I never met Cash and Silverstein’s Sue but I met a man called Jan. We met one day, in usual way men of our age meet, in a bar. Specifically, we met at the famous Pat O’Brian’s in New Orleans.     I was there drowning my so-called sorrows. Seemed my wife of 3 years had decided she was tired of my “shit” and she believed our vacation in New Orleans was the perfect time to tell me this. Quite frankly, I sick of her “shit” as well so I sent her packing on the next flight out. May December romances just don’t work. Anyway, I’m there sipping my whiskey on the rocks thinking about what kind of trouble I can get into that night when I spot a couple of elderly couples coming in.   I can’t say what exactly drew my eye to them other than both couples looked pretty happy. They took up a table near the flaming fountain and ordered up a round of hurricanes.  One couple were olive skinned beauties that had a general look of exhaustion. The man fully reclined in his seat and let out a hardy sigh while the woman just slouched in her seat. The woman of the second couple seemed to be a delicate thing.  She could not have been more than 5 foot with salt and pepper hair. She was just a tiny wisp of a thing. She had a sweater jacket pulled tight across her and seemed to be the one that wanted to be near the fire. The leader of the group seemed to be man of this couple. He had a vibrant look to him with sun redden cheeks and a beard as white as the purest snow. He had on a green hat with yellow “U” like thing on the front of it that kind of resembled a bull.  He led the conversations and seemed to relish the jokes he was telling. The more I watched these couples from afar the more I knew that I had to talk to this man. To me, this was the man with the secrets of life.  I mean there he was, laughing, relaxing with friends and, I assumed, his wife. He seemed not to have a care in the world. When he left the table and went to the bar to get his little group another round, I…

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