— Eye on Everett —



The following is a private discussion with my good friend, the mayor’s Blue Suit.

I want to set the record straight today about the Blue Suit. Above all, he is to me a person – he is a human being with feelings, fears, even some noble aspirations for a better life.

To me he is more than just a suit worn by the mayor who is privvy to nearly all the mayor’s secrets.

We have become close friends, the Blue Suit and I. His connection to the mayor as the mayor’s favored blue suit has informed me that the Blue Suit has a cross to bear – and that’s the mayor wearing him all the time, dropping food on him, tearing him here and there, and letting his pants out and taking them in dependent upon where the mayor’s head is at.

Recently, the Blue Suit has been stressed out by the racism charges and especially by the media attention paid to Everett. The recent announcement that the Feds are doing an investigation here has magnified the paranoia he feels. He is near to the end of his wits about what the next shoe to drop will be for the mayor.

As a result, the Blue Suit has been speaking to ‘some people’ and they tell him the stress he is feeling is accounting for the Blue Suit’s enormous appetite.

The Blue Suit right up to now couldn’t control his appetite.

“I’m so nervous about all these investigations and Globe articles that I am overeating to calm my nerves. I can’t go on like this. Life is supposed to be fun. My life is supposed to be fun. I have to do something about my situation. I am going to do something, anything to get out of the rut I’m in,” he told me during a ride around the city Tuesday afternoon.

“I’m going to tell you things I can’t talk about with Carlo. He wouldn’t understand. He’s so difficult to speak with about person- al matters. You have no idea,” the Blue Suit said to me.

“Go ahead. I’m all ears,” I answered.

“I’ve been talking to a therapist – an 800 line therapist – in confidence. She sounded great to me. I had a free 45 minute session. She told me she will consider whether or not to continue the therapy with me. She sent me some medication. I’ve been taking Lexapro for about two weeks. It has cut my anxiety dramatically. She said I’d never have another panic attack taking Lexapro. This gives me some hope because sometimes the world just seems so dark to me, you know, a place filled with pain. A psychiatrist friend of mine once told me that everyone in this world wishes to anesthetize themselves against pain. This is why so many people drink and do drugs…they want to escape from the perils and the pain of the world they are living in,” he added.

“What did the therapist tell you?” I asked the Blue Suit.

“She says I have self esteem problems,” he revealed.

“Wow! I never figured you had self esteem problems. I always thought you might be a bit depressed from the guff you’ve had to take from Carlo all these years,” I said.

“The therapist said my parents were the cause of my problems. She said that my relationship with Carlo added to my problems but she assured me I am the way I am because of my parents,” the Blue Suit told me.

“I can’t just go out any more like I used to. There is too much pressure on me now that I’m a celebrity. There’s a great number of people in Everett who love me, who live to read about what I do with you, and to discuss what I tell you. I mean, look at how often I am recognized everywhere I go. I’m a celebrity. More people know me than the mayor, I think. That drives Carlo crazy,” he said.

He paused thoughtfully for moment.

“I owe my fans bigtime. I have to be myself for them. I can’t go on being lost as though in a fog. The therapist told me I’m conflicted. What the hell is that? Is that like constipation?” he asked me.

We both had a good laugh.

‘Constipation is not confliction,” I added.

“Did the therapist ask you about your love hate relationship with Carlo?” I asked.

‘Yes. She wanted to know all about Carlo and how he treats me. I just clammed up. I can’t go there. I mean, we go back many years. I’ve been with him through the good times and the bad. Right now, this is a bad time. He may not think so but it is. I’m not much of a historian but I know this- Carlo is not at the beginning of his run. He is coming to the end of his run. I’m not a new suit. I’m an old suit. I look good but I’m tired. No one wants to stay by the side of someone going down. You know this, Josh from your personal experience,” the Blue Suit said.

“Tell me about it,” I said.

“The therapist said I’m narcissistic and egotistical. She said my overeating revealed that I am unhinged. The overeating is my dif- ficulty. Carlo is doing the same thing,” he revealed.

“He’s grown sloppy. This comes at my expense as he gets food all over me – on my pants, my sleeves, everywhere. He spills drinks on me…and other stuff I don’t want to talk about. I can’t stand it. Carlo’s added girth is stretching the seams of my suit jacket and pants. This is no joke. It actually hurts when I bend over to tie my shoes!”

The Blue Suit promised me he was going on a diet. He said he wanted to sleep better, eat smarter and basically begin to be healthier.

No sooner had he said this to me, we were in front of Bill Ash’s Pizza on Revere Beach.

I parked the car. We took a table for two out in front of the storied pizza place.

The waitress came over to our table.

She looked us both over – the Blue Suit that is, bursting at the seams and me, with a flat stomach.

‘Don’t I know you?” she asked the Blue Suit.

The Blue Suit gushed with pride.

I couldn’t take it. I can’t believe how popular the Blue Suit has become – not just in Everett, but in Revere and in Chelsea.

“Just order me a Coca Cola,” I told the Blue Suit. I excused myself and went to the men’s room. I didn’t hear the Blue Suit ordered.

While I was away from the table the Blue Suit and the waitress talked. Turns out she’s from Everett.

“I know all about you,” she told him. “I love reading about your exploits. You’re quite the character,” she told him.

When I returned to the table, we got talking again about Carlo, about life, about our lives, about Everett, about racism, lawsuits, and on and on.

Then the waitress arrived at our table.

She carried a large pizza, a diet Coke and a regular Coke. “How does that fit in with your new eating regimen?” I asked. The Blue Suit took a slice of pizza. He folded it. He shoved half

the slice into his mouth and proceeded to grind it up, chewing with neurotic energy. His cheeks looked as though they were going to burst. I watched him chewing that slice of pizza.

I gasped to myself when he attempted a swallow.

“I thought you said were going to eat healthy?” I asked him. “I am eating healthy, Josh. This is a vegetarian pizza!”

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