Fav person

We have a client who is a favorite person of mine. He is older than middle aged, getting close to 70 years old. He has white hair and an incredible history of perseverance. He was a refugee of his home country in the Middle East, one son among about twelve children left to find their way in warring countries. He learned economics and architecture and business and built an empire from the ground up based on lucky real estate investments at the height of the Middle Eastern oil boom. He was an infamous bachelor with a hard party lifestyle. And then, at 65, he met a beautiful American woman who was around 30 years old. They married, and within five years he had five children – two kids and a set of triplets. Now he spends his time moving back and forth from Costa Rica, London, France, and the US so that he does not have to pay taxes here. He calls frequently to chat with my boss, and speaks in a long drawl of well thought out sentences peppered with a laugh just behind the words. He walks slowly and often, and when he visits, such as now, he takes my boss away for several hour long lunches and stops by for a three hour visit. He likes to chat.

My point, my friends, is that his cell phone just rang. The ringer was a rap song. He is a favorite person of mine.