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Tommy Maaltman Blogging

Tommy Maaltman Blogging
Tommy Maaltman Blogging

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Tommy sees the light.

Last night, as the sun slipped into the water, sans the green flash, Jill and I noticed the faintest of a faint light down by the water's edge slowly and meticulously making it's way to our cottage steps. What was it? A wayward firefly? Perhaps a mirage? Something extraterrestrial? At first we thought we were seeing things, but as the light was almost upon us we could make out the forms of four people slowly progressing towards our cottage in the pitch dark illuminated by what appeared to be a small birthday cake candle. Low and behold, it was the very frugal Jimmy Lang and his family. Jimmy, an old friend and medical school classmate of mine, recently pulled a fast one on his aging and infirm parents and acquired the family cottage in Grand Haven, for a song. We decide to celebrate with a "Tour of Scotland," starting with a ten year old Glenkinchie, smooth, mellow, a sweet nectar even a baby would love. Next a ten year old Glen Morangie, sweet, fruity, with a taste of pink cotton candy. The nose was like grandma's purse on Sunday morning as she doled out penny candy to the children feigning interest in seeing grandma but really only greedily interested in getting as much candy as as they could get their grubby little hands on. Staying in the Highlands we had the Macallan twelve year old exclusively matured in select sherry oak casks from Jerez, Spain. What a magnificent color! By no means the mahogany color of a Ben Nevis, but spectacular in its own right. Rich and complex fruit, floral, sugary candy and black licorice. OK, enough of the girly drams. Jim and I were ready to move to the Islays. A fifteen year old Laphroaig with all it's powerful phenol and formaldehyde brought us back to our senses and reminded us of our days dissecting our cadaver as first year medical students. Were the tears in our eyes due to reminiscing or the caustic fumes billowing out of the Glen Cairne whisky glasses? Finally we had an eighteen year old Coal Ila with all it's peatiness. Speaking of peat, Jimmy's son Pete introduced us to his girlfriend . We all sighed a sigh of relief. He's not gay! In the wee morning hours the Langs left to go back to their cottage that I have appropriately named "The Windsong," (It sounds better than "The Land Grab" or "The Blitzkrieg,") illuminated by a fifteen million candle power rescue beacon I keep handy by the bedside. I finished the evening with a long swim into very deep water straight out into the lake in 82 degree water temperature illuminated only by the stars. Slainte, Tommy Maaltman

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