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“No, I didn’t name anyone, nor did I hear you doing so,” I laughed, wondering who he had given those names to.
“The old man in the store with the left-over bait?” he said, running a new hot dog through with his stick.
“Oh, that guy? I thought he looked more like a sweet and skinny Santa Claus,” I laughed, thinking it was humorous how John’s mind worked at labeling people.
“He looked like a moonshiner who’d been on the job since the 1920s,” he said with a goofy grin.
It was a good thing I’d already swallowed my hot dog because I almost choked with laughter when he said that.
“As someone who grew up in Appalachia, I know a moonshiner when I see one,” I said, clearing my throat. “And you’re absolutely right about Huckleberry Joe.”
“I knew it,” he laughed. “Anyway, he said something that sort of stuck with me.”
“What did he say? I think that’s when I took off down the aisle to pick out the marshmallows and chocolate for the s’mores you’ll love later on.”
John was solemn as he stared at the fire, cooking his second hot dog. “He talked about needs versus wants. I’m still trying to put it together and how it should apply to me.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. This guy was among the smartest guys I knew, but it made me think about my dad discussing the difference between street smart and book smart.
I think I was seeing what my dad was talking about firsthand.
“You’re serious?” I had to check if he was joking because John was notorious for allowing you to believe something that seemed genuine—like this—and then turning it on you and laughing at your expense because you were too fucking gullible.
“Deadly,” he said, half-teasing with a cute little wink as he devoured this next poor hot dog.
“Well, what do you think he meant?”
It was always good to turn the question back onto John when you weren’t sure if he was fucking with you.
“I have no fucking idea,” he said, acting like he was stumped, trying to solve the world’s hardest math equation. “What would a statement like that mean to you?”
I still wasn’t sure where he was going with this.
“Well, if a man who looked like skinny Santa made a statement to me about anything concerning needs versus wants, I would assume I might need to prioritize those things.”
“Simple as that?” He smiled but seemed confused.
“It’s that simple because it’s not that hard to figure out.”
“I think it is for me,” he said, seemingly in turmoil over this shit.
“How?”
“All my life, I was raised that the world was at my mercy. I was raised to have manners and to treat everyone with respect regardless of my status, of course, but my family’s wealth made it so that if I ever wanted anything—anything—I got it.”
“You didn’t seem like that was the case earlier, acting like a kid in the candy store after buying that new 4Runner,” I said truthfully.
“Well, I didn’t ask Mommy and Daddy for that. I used my own money for it. I earned that, and I’m confident they wouldn’t approve of any method I’d used to purchase it.”
“But they approved of the Ferrari?”
“Ivy League graduation gift,” he chuckled. “I don’t know; it was just interesting to hear that guy say that, knowing I’ve never been in a position to need anything.”
“And you always got what you wanted,” I said. I felt sorry for him because it seemed like he was lost, never feeling the joy of appreciating the things you have because they could quickly be gone tomorrow.
“Precisely,” he answered.
“Well,” I softly chuckled, “why don’t I send your handsome butt off in that direction with nothing but the clothes on your back,” I pointed toward the trail that led through the woods and toward the lake, “and I guaran-damn-tee you, that you’ll get yourself a crash-course in wants versus needs that only the mountains can give.”
