The most frequent comment I get about A Gritty Little Tourist Town goes something like this:
People who read the book tell me that they feel like they know these characters. Which pleases me to my toes. Because I want them to live forever.
So every once in a while, I will introduce you to one of them. The first one has to be the inspiration for the bar tales: Richie Cox.
Here is Richie:
Viet Nam vet in a white t-shirt, scraggly pony tail, brilliant light blue eyes, sun-toughened complexion. Didn’t say much, didn’t correct you when you said something stupid. His eyes said whatever needed saying.
One liners from Richie:
Regarding his career as a house painter: I may be slow, but I’m mediocre.
Regarding story-telling: The first liar doesn’t stand a chance.
Regarding fishing stories in particular - the epigram of the book:
Any story worth telling is worth improving.
I was a bit intimidated by Richie, which was both silly and understandable. He saw through the bullshit. He just saw through it. That was the understandable part of my being intimidated—being known.
We were talking about gun ownership in Costa Rica:
Richie advised, “If you own a gun, you have to be prepared to use it.” Wow. I said, “I’m just not the kind of person who could shoot somebody.” Richie never judged. He simply named whatever needing naming. “Then you’d have to become a different kind of person.”
The silly part of my being intimidated was his enormous heart.
Another Richie story:
Then there was that young girl with skinny arms, wide eyes, and a soft voice who offered sliced green mangos with packets of salt in the ubiquitous plastic bags. Richie came home from Bohío every day with another bag. I asked him, “Do you like green mangoes with salt?” “Nah, I just like the little girl. She can’t go home until she sells all her mangos.”
And then there was his relationship with Mary.
They settled each other down. Richie never got arrested after he met Mary. She would say, “He keeps me sane.” He would smile.
Each was God’s great gift to the other.
At 5:30 a.m., the sun not yet risen but starting to pink the sky, the first chirps of the kiskadees sounding outside the windows, without fail, Richie would bring Mary a cup of coffee in bed. Every morning her day began with his loving gesture . . .
Ah, but I can’t continue with that story.
I will just say that it is a blessing to remember that man.
Click on the title to buy A Gritty Little Tourist Town: Bar Tales from Costa Rica from a local bookstore.