Page 32 of Lovetown, USA

Column

Sherlock Holmes Ain’t Got Sh*t on Me

By Lane Washington

I’m getting closer.

People who investigate—detectives, journalists, parasocial people on social media with a lot of time on their hands—often find themselves in possession of tiny bits of information they can’t quite make sense of yet. Hints. Factoids. Red herrings. Like a bunch puzzle pieces that don’t fit.

But if you’re good, it’s inevitable that there will be a eureka moment, that split second when the lightbulb turns on inside your head and you realize 1) I was right, and 2) I can prove it.

Your girl’s light isn’t on yet, but it’s coming. I can feel it. But in the meantime, here’s some news:

I had an experience.

I went to this…potluck dinner. And not the kind of potluck you see on Pinterest where everybody labels their quinoa salad with cute chalkboard signs. This one was different.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I do know one thing for sure. If you’re black, you already know we don’t eat just anybody’s food. There are rules to this thing.

Once those were established, we got started on the first course. A modest appetizer. It was light. Playful. Easy to share. Delicious flavor, but bite-sized, leaving everyone wanting more.

I brought the main course, and it was out of this world good, if I may say so myself.

People dove in and devoured it. A rabid, noisy lot, they were.

A few moments of confusion ensued, with forks crossing, plates in the wrong spot, laughter and a few spills and messes, but overall, it was magnificent.

A couple of spicy surprises popped up and made my eyes water, but that’s just part of the adventure, I think.

And when we finished…the table was a mess , y’all. But a beautiful mess. Everyone got fed. We all got full. We sat there after, grinning, licking our fingers, halfway to a food coma, and most of all, satisfied .

But I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the wonderful conversation. I’m still learning about myself. Still growing. And it’s easy to do when your dinner companions are so smart and insightful.

We shared things with one another that were meaningful. Baring our hearts, I suppose. I enjoyed that just as much.

I wish I had more to complain about, quite frankly, but I’ve had a good time here of late. That tends to happen when you let go of your preconceived notions and plans and let life take you to new places to experience new things. That’s what happens when you’re open to the possibilities.

Some things just can’t be curated. They must be stumbled upon.