ALSO ADMITTED IN TEXAS DAVID J. L'HOSTE
ATTORNEY AT LAW
SUITE 1100 • QUEEN & CRESCENT BUILDING
344 CAMP STREET
NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA 70130
TELEPHONE (504) 566-0056
TELEFAX (504) 525-7213
29 January 1993
Cheryl B. Horton
6420 Orleans Avenue
New Orleans, LA 70124
Re: Current Events
Dear Cheri:
Years ago, before I got a washer and dryer and long before I employed a maid from south of here (before I blew my chance to ever be confirmed as U.S. Attorney General), I would weekly lug a load of dirty clothes to a laundrywoman to be washed and folded. I lost some great clothes that way: my pebble-knit sweatshirt and a pair of yellow, elastic-waisted pants which were as comfortable as nothing at all. The sense of loss was acute.
The same thing happens these days, but instead of some college punk pilfering from unattended dryer irreplaceable pieces of my wardrobe, the maid shrinks or bleaches them into oblivion. Accepting these losses is easier: probably because I am allowed to view each dead apparel in its final misshaped, colorless state. Too, Stephanie seems genuinely to be sorry for her misdeeds: "Meester Daybid, I yust want to apoyohize," she says. (Now the bleach is locked away.)
Life is full of small losses which really aren't so small. A fountain pen received as a gift is misplaced. A favorite silk tie is indelibly branded with dribblings of white clam sauce.
Recently I have endured yet another small tragedy: Doreen moved to the North Shore. For ten years, first Carol then Doreen were my barbers or hairstylists or hairdressers or whatever they are called nowadays. Carol moved to Houston about five years ago, but Doreen intermittently had been substituting for Carol for months before the move, making bearable the jolt of her absence.
Then last month I got a form letter -- my name handwritten behind the typed salutation -- telling me and everyone else how we've been more than clients, friends really.
I wrote to Doreen wishing her luck in her new venture and then, with listless apathy, worried for a month about a replacement as my appearance grew shabbier about the collar.
I am a picky sort and get fussy when a stranger waves and pokes pointy metal implements around my eyeballs while conversing with someone across the room about how long the henna needs to set before rinsing. Without trust, the haircut experience can be harrowing.
There was a complicating factor to my dilemma: For the whole of the ten years I did not give so much as a nickel as gratuity to either Carol or Doreen. It is not that I was unappreciative of the warm shampoo massages my scalp was treated to on brisk winter days. I just didn't give Carol a tip for the first few haircuts way back when, and then I was embarrassed to give her anything since I had gone some time without tipping. Don't ask me why. Ask Denise; she'll tell you I'm wacky, or maybe she'll just tell you I'm cheap.
Well, realizing the remaining stylists probably heard a word or two about my generosity, I was embarrassed to go back and went about searching for a new shop and a barber with whom I would enjoy an unblemished record. I asked friends for advice; I looked in the yellow pages; I even walked by a place called the Clip Joint.
My apprehension about going to an unfamiliar place and subjecting myself to an unknown stylist brandishing scissors grew until it was overwhelming. Fed up with friends commenting on my big hair, I eventually returned to the old shop and a new woman, Lisa. She did a splendid job. And I tipped her.
I understand my dentist is retiring soon.
HONEYMOON
The galas in D.C. have now ended,
And Bill is now William J.
A lengthy honeymoon was supposed to ensue,
But it barely lasted a day.
A woman named Zoe, which rhymes with Joey,
Was a lawyer who was handsomely paid.
Then Clinton suggested Top Lawyer she become,
But Peruvian were her chauffeur and maid.
"She is a working mother; her crime was petty,"
Cried Clinton staffers and feminists alike.
She'd be a lawbreaker pressing a law she broke,
As effective as a hole-riddled dike.
In seeking favor, a promise made Bill,
If elected all gays can fight.
This might be just, so what,
Bill is fighting the religious right.
Colin Powell is chief of chiefs;
In the military there is no higher.
And Colin believes gays should be
Neither sailor, nor grunt, nor flyer.
Said Candidate Bill, "Middle-class folk will get relief
When levies I lift from their backs."
But Bentsen of Texas, the Treasury boss,
Now mentions a broad energy tax.
When asked about this, an unnamed source,
His eye showing a devilish glint,
Said, "The press mistook what our leader meant,
You must always read the fine print."
From all indications, it's too early to tell,
If what we saw is what we got.
Only one thing is certain from what I see,
For the honeymoon suite, order Bill a cot.
More Later,
David J. L'Hoste
DJL/djl
cc: Bernard A. Horton
     Russell B. Ramsey
     Denise F. L'Hoste
     Paul D. Cordes
     Adrian C. Benjamin, Jr.

© David J. L'Hoste

Current Events Essays, etc. inter alia