I don't think I have ever done anything so sweet, as what Sheryl and I did today. It was truly amazing. Changed my life.
Every year in February we invite anyone to come make homemade Valentines with us at ART 634 on Second Sunday. We call it the Valentines Project. We decide who we want to present the Valentines to. We also collect items that we think they might be able to use. This year we decided that it would be nice if we made paper sack Valentines bags and filled them with snacks, treats, health and beauty items, chapstick and home made Valentines.
The donations were plentiful. Folks were so generous. One person brought us 78 new chapsticks. Her idea. She thought with this rough winter, they could use one. Sheryl brought 60 white bags with hearts applied on the front of them. Others brought bags and bags of Chocolate candy. One gal brought a bunch of rice crispy bars. The almost unbelievable one was over 70 bags of toothpaste, tooth brush, shampoo, lotion and cream rinse...all in travel size.
We spent the afternoon with many, making Valentines. How fun was that? Just after we got started the reporter/photographer from the newspaper showed up to do a story on the project. The next day our big project ends up on the front page.
With the bags all filled with cards, treats, chapstick and chocolate we set out today to distribute them to folks that might need a little hug.
We originally thought that we would place them at the door stoop of people that resided at the hotel/motels. You know where they rent a small room to live in. We had some fear but not enough to stop us. We agreed on the way to the first stop to play it by ear.
Well, Sheryl knocked on the first door. We didn't feel comfortable just leaving them on the cold ground. When we both saw the look on the face of the resident, as we handed them a small bag full of love and said, "Happy Valentines Day!!" we knew we were knocking on all the doors.
The look was hard to describe. Most answered the door with a look like what do you want? When we just handed them a sweet bag and wished them a Happy Valentines Day, they mostly would smile real big and say a sincere thank you. Some would ask where this gift came from. Some would say that we made their day. Some, we would say that they made our day. The smiles were great. One guy told me that now he could surprise his girlfriend with a Valentine because she was at work now.
At the first stop we did a few doors and a guy that we had given a bag to came back up to us and said he didn't have much but he wanted us to have this.....and handed Sheryl a book about Elvis.
So many smiles, handshakes and hugs.
Sheryl knocked on one door as I was further down the hall. A guy came to the door. The look on her face as she walked away was different. It appears that he answered the door in his purple negligee.
She noticed that there was a really nice old ornate mirror in the dumpster. I grabbed it to give it a new home.
One guy knew me. He asked me how my Son was doing. I guess they were friends in school.
A sweet little girl barely opened the door and kept telling her Dad that a lady was out here with Valentines.
After two stops we took a little break and contemplated what lives we might have changed. Like someone that had no reason to go on another day until they felt the love from a simple Valentine. The tears of joy. The hope they might have felt. At that point I wanted to interview all of them to tell the story of their struggle.
Our last stop was the Adams Hotel. We started knocking on doors and it was really nice. They all seemed to appreciate it. One resident said, "My across the hall friend is not here but he sure would like one, it would be a great surprise for him." He was lookin' out for you brother.
One guy heard all the knocking and peeked out his door to see what all the action was about. He was very happy to get the last Valentine Bag.
As we were leaving the Building Manager and a resident were in the hall by the kitchen posting the handmade Valentines on the wall for all to see. How great is that?
I walked away feeling good about our deed on another frigid cold winter day. Leaving hearts a little warmer. Realizing that they were all very human and accepted some love that was offered.
I think Sheryl and I got way more out of this experience than anyone else did.
The Thanksgiving Day parades were on the TV, the kids watching them and goofin' off as usual, he was out on our 40 acre farm deer hunting since daybreak and I was in the kitchen cooking all the fixins for a festive holiday dinner. I had worked hard at trying to make it nice for my young family. The bird was turning a golden brown, the potatoes all peeled and cut. The night before I made a tasty pumpkin pie and a cranberry jello walnut side dish. The old oak dining room table had been set with my Grandma's best Nortake china, silverware and glasses. It looked like Martha Stewart had been here. I am sure the kids made a turkey centerpiece for the table.
We were about an hour from dinner being served. I am sure I was feeling proud that I could do it all myself but at the same time was hurt that I had to do it all myself. You know, kind of wondering who made the rule that you get to go hunting most of the day while I slaved away in the kitchen to make sure that when you walk through the door, there will be a delicious meal for you to enjoy.
We have to go backwards a little here and explain that when I cooked there was rarely a compliment given by him. If he cooked, he asked on almost every bite if you thought it was a delicious as he did. I swear through the entire meal he keep saying, "This is so good, don't you think so too?" if he cooked.
Well, I heard the truck pull in the driveway. He came in the back door, as usual. Walks right up to the stove and started the "inspection" of dinner. He checked the tenderness of the potatoes that were boiling, the temp of the turkey and then took a small spoon and tasted the gravy that was bubbling on the stove. Threw the spoon down and it made a big splash in the gravy. I asked what the problem was. He said it was too salty or something. I am pretty sure I was offended by his inspection and criticism after not helping at all to prepare it. The details got foggy after that but I believe he threw the entire meal in the waist basket and then took it outside to dump it in the trash can.
What do you do?? I was at a complete loss on how to continue the day. We had very little else to eat in the house. How do you fix this horrible memory for the kids when all you were trying to do was make a great memory for them? How do you live in the same home with him after that action? What a horrible mess we have now. What makes a grown person do this?
I do remember going out to the trash can and lifting the lid and crying as I saw the dinner that I cooked with all the love that I had, sitting in the filthy trash can. That vision is clear to me. I don't remember how I solved the dinner thing. Seems like we went to McDonald's or had spaghetti or something.
Thanksgiving for me has rarely been about family tradition. My Mother passed away 30 years ago and that pretty much ended any tradition that we, as a family, shared. I remember one year right after my divorce when the kids were at his house for the day, I went to Denton's Den with my sister and had a turkey sandwich. For a few years I cooked a full meal and invited all the homeless or near homeless folks that I knew in the neighborhood. Sometimes those were the best.
If it was up to me I would cook like a fool and invite all of my relatives to share in the meal served on my Grandmother's best Nortake china. Sadly, it isn't up to me.
On this day of reflection and an opportunity to be thankful......I am thankful for my wonderful circle of friends. Many of whom invited me to share the day with them today. The ones that are there for you all the time. The ones I would do anything for. I am seriously thankful for them. They keep me sane.
Brad, Patrick and Tavis I wish you were at the table with me today. Love you!!
I am going to tell you about Sue Ann. She used to live across the street from me. I first noticed her when I was out front talking to my sister. This crazy looking woman walked past and we both thought, "What the heck was that? Did you see that?" Oh my, a little bit of a woman that was dressed quite colorfully. Like hot pink spandex pants and a crazy patterned top. A flaming red wig and a hat that looked like it belonged on a Las Vegas stage. I have photos somewhere. I will have to find them.
Next thing we knew she moved in right next to both of us. This ought to be entertaining. Every day she would get dressed up in her finest and trot her little happy ass down to the party store to get her beer supply for the day. Different wigs, hats and other very colorful adornments.
There was some odd behavior that went along with the wardrobe. My sister grew a garden on the side of her hill and Sue Ann would regularly help herself to green tomatoes. I would call my sister and let her know that the garden was raided again. She would tell me that she already figured it out because she could smell the green fried tomatoes cooking.
Almost every time that I walked out my front door I would hear, "Honey, ya you. Do you have a cig that I can have?"
One Thanksgiving she saw my sons and I, gathering on my front porch to have a smoke while the turkey cooked. She trotted across the street and asked if we were having dinner together. I invited her to join us. She enjoyed a plate full of home cooked Thanksgiving dinner, said her thanks and left to go back home. On her way there she helped herself to some beers that were being stored on the front porch to stay cold. Oh well.
I heard tell from one of her relatives that she used to "work" the turn at the train station a long time ago. She would pace the sidewalk at the West end of the station and flag down cars as the went around the bend.
Frequently she would sell her dentures for money for drugs. Then she would send some guy from her family (nephew, cousin, son, etc) to go get them back.
She would come to my front door at least once a week to ask me if I wanted to buy some Vicodin. I would always say no thanks Sue Ann. Maybe another time. One week I had a killer tooth ache and finally said yes, bring me some. She said she would be right back. She brought over some guy with her and he handed me a thin plastic bag that was rolled up with some pills in it. Now, I had never purchased drugs, so before she came back I looked up Vicodin on the www to see what it looked like. When he handed me the package I gave him the $20. They stood there while I opened it up to check it. It looked funny. Kind of squishy. A tinge of blueish/green. Smelled of mint.I wasn't sure but I mentioned that it didn't look like Vicodin. My tooth hurt bad. Matter of fact it looks and smells like soggy Tic Tacs. It was. I tried to hand it back and get my $20. The guy says, "A deal is a deal." Ok, lesson learned. I am never trying to buy drugs on the street again. Duh. I am not a tough guy.
Most know that I own and listen to a police scanner. One day I was sitting her working and heard that Sue Ann was down at Log Cabin Party Store and called on the corner pay phone to respond to her house because there was something in the basement. I knew she stored her garbage in her basement so one could only imagine what it was. I see the officer arrive at her address. He walks in and talks to her for a few minutes. Then I hear, "I will be at 217 Third St. to further investigate. She says that the neighbor has buried men in her basement." I hear the doorbell. Ah shit, now what? I turned the scanner off.
I go to the door and a uniformed officer asked me if he could look around in the basement a bit. I asked what he was looking for. He mumbled something. I was just being nice and had nothing to hide so I said follow me. At the bottom of the stairs he took his flashlight and aimed it under the stairs.....nothing but spider webs. Then to the next room. Kind of an empty staging room for the maintenance guys. Sink, storage, fuse boxes, etc. The next room was locked. It was a storage room of mine. I unlocked it and showed him a room full of garden tools and other assorted storage. Then the next room was more of the same. I unlocked that one also. The next room is locked by the landlord with supplies, paint and the like. I don't have the key to that room. So, I didn't open it. Then the boiler room and the laundry room. In the laundry room besides a washer and dryer there is a mounted old wooden storage cabinet. I had huge boxes of prom dress storage in front of it. You would have had to move them to open the doors. He asked me, "What is in that cupboard?"
I looked him right in the eye and said, "That is the secret door to the locked room where I bury them."
He said he was done looking and proceeded to leave.
I don't get why if you bothered to come investigate in the first place, why you wouldn't make me move the boxes and see what was behind the secret door. Oh well......
I have not seen Sue Ann in a couple of years since she moved. I was told tonight that she passed away on her birthday while visiting some "friends" at the Colonial Inn. She went there to get some drugs. A mix of a few different ones. She overdosed. The friends left her there to die. Someone found her later.
She was the most colorful thread that ran through the fabric of this neighborhood.
R.I.P. Sue Ann.
I spent a lot of time on the streets of the French Quarter of New Orleans....alone.
I went down to visit my Son a little bit after he moved there. He had just turned 18. I surprised him with my visit. Consequently he worked all day and rested at night. I would get up and find my way to the Quarter, then wander around all day. Around dinner time we would go somewhere for dinner and then he would drop me off near Bourbon St. so I could entertain myself till Midnight or so with all the live music offered there. He would come back around to get me and take me home. He could not go into the bar because they all had bouncers at the door and he was only 18. He just stood outside the open door around Midnight and I would see him there.
After a few days I found my favorite spots. I returned to them frequently. There was one in particular that I still remember. It had a stage with a curved front edge. Not a very large stage either. They would jam about 8 musicians up there. The front row was a horn section. Loved that band. I also kept running into a nice guy from England that, one night asked me to dance. He didn't speak any English and I did not speak French. So we used hand signals to communicate with each other. We ran into each other a few times that week. I had told my son about meeting this guy and the language barrier that we had.
One night the guy from England was in that same bar with some friends. He asked me to dance again and was standing next to me talking. Well, not really talking but there was some form of communication. The band went on break and the bartender turned up the jukebox. It was a song that I had heard before. Yep, I knew the words....sort of. It was in French. Trying to find something to "talk" about, I turned to him and motioned something like a question (shrugging shoulders) and a listening thing (hand cupped up to ear) to the speaker in the ceiling above us. He knew what they were saying in the song but had no way to explain it to me. Remember, he spoke no English. Right then my son appeared at the front door. Mind you, he is 6'6" with dark features and buzz cut hair. I wanted the two to meet. I asked the guy from England (by pulling on his arm) to come to the door to meet my son. To my surprise he sat down on the bar stool and hung on to it tight.
He was motioning to me that he wasn't going anywhere. Now, why would he be opposed to meeting my son? Oh well, nothing I could do. I think I gave him a brief hug and took off.
I got in the car for the short ride home and was telling the story to my son and his gal. In the part of the story about the song in the jukebox I kind of sang it (badly). She turned around and said that they were asking (in French) ...."If you want to go to bed with me."
As usual, what I did was innocent but if you look at it from his point of view.......
"voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir"
voulez=will
vous=you
coucher= to sleep
avec=with
moi=me
ce=this
soir=evening
I know, it has been a while since I wrote. I have been kinda busy and a little uninspired.
I first noticed her when she lived across the street from me. She would sit out on her large second floor balcony. Grand kids would come and go. She never bothered to wave or say hi. I tried to soften her up, I had a friend take her a little kids bike that we found. She said thank you.
One day she was sneaking around the back parking lot. I went out and asked if I could help her find whatever she was looking for. She said she had it under control. She was looking for a place to park her car. Appears she was moving in right next door to me. From the get go she had an attitude that seemed unfounded.
The next weekend she moved in. There appeared to be a weekend long party. Lots of folks coming and going. My peaceful existence was shattered.
There always seemed to be turmoil there. One by one more folks moved in. Or stayed the night a lot. Her daughter, her three kids, her daughters boyfriend and some teenage boys. I think at the peak there was 9-11 people staying there.
It is a non smoking building and frequently the sweet smell of pot filled the air. They smoked out back, out front and inside.
She took over the laundry room facilities while trying to keep up with dirty clothing for all of them. Every time I went down there she had the washer, dryer and folding table full. Never attending it. Left it there for days. I resorted to hauling my stuff to the laundromat It was easier.
Most nights there were 8 or more cars parked all over the place with "guests" that stayed all night. She was always kinda pissed that I had the driveway to park my truck.
One cold winter day the police questioned her daughters man, right outside my living room window. He was being questioned for passing counterfeit bills to the pizza delivery guy. He had a gun on him and went to jail.
After a long winter I went out to look at the 40ft garden that I tend to and things were starting to come up. There is hope for some beauty here. Couple of days later I noticed that some of the tulips were trampled. I kept my eye open and watched the 5 Grand children walking through the garden. I went out and explained to them what was coming out of the earth and that if you walk on them they will not have pretty flowers. I think we had an understanding. Well, I thought we did. I asked them every couple of days to not pull stuff up, knock it with sticks or peel the bark off the trees. Always talking to them like a teacher that just wanted them to know it was harmful and destructive.
It failed to stop. I tried to figure out what it was that I could do to teach them. I went to the store and bought seeds for them to plant their own garden next door at an empty house. They were into it. Or so I thought. They dug it up and planted pumpkins, sunflowers and cosmos. But alas they trampled on that too. We watered them with buckets and tried to learn how to take care of a garden.
To try and be cool with them I let them use my ring toss game, balls, paint, etc. Every day I would offer something else to give them something to do besides destroy stuff. I even went to the dollar store and bought them jump ropes and yo yos. They just held them by one end and swung them around. Never trying to learn how to use them properly. I got them paper and set up an art table. I supplied them with paint and sidewalk chalk. They would just paint and paint until the paper had holes from the water and too many brush strokes.
A good friend felt for my issues and showed up at the front door with a toy lawn mower, a baby stroller and some trike like things. Hot wheels and the like. One for each of them. They played well with them for weeks. Every day riding around the house 100 times or more. Until one day some cousins came to visit and as I was trying to take an afternoon nap I heard them smashing all of them with bricks, right outside my window. Like a feeding frenzy. Three or four boys would stand around the toy and all throw bricks at the same time to break it to pieces. Oh well......
This struggle went on for a couple of months. It was very frustrating. There had to be 5 adults over there and every day they would just let the kids out the back door to run around and break stuff. They were actually taking a plastic baseball bat and picking up rocks and hitting them towards the windows in the garage to see how many they could break. No one every watched them when they were outside. They would get in my car, throw rocks at passing cars, etc.
After all this, I went out to look at the garden one day and found all the flowers stripped off my larkspur plants. They had just bloomed. I was kinda pissed. I gathered up the petals that were all over the sidewalk and took them to her front door. I had not previously said anything to her. Just tried to deal with the kids in a nice way. I rang the doorbell. All of the kids answered it and when they saw me they went back in and closed the door. I rang it again. This time I said I wanted to talk to their Mom. They said that Mom was in the shower. Then where is your Grandma? They opened the door and pointed to her. She was sitting in the chair in the corner. I showed her the petals and said that something has to change. The destruction of the garden had to stop. She real matter of fact like just told the kids that it looks like you might have just lost a good friend.
They next couple of weeks she just did not let them outside. That had to drive all of the above crazy. Then one day she came to me on the front porch and started getting in my face. I was giving away flats of vegetables that I had gotten for free from Becks. Two neighbors were on the front porch. She went off in front of them. She asked me to move some plants off the stoop by the driveway. I asked why she needed them moved. She said if she lets the kids out and they happen to knock them off them I would do "what I do" and start bitchin' at them again. She then threatened me that, "If I continued to do what I do then certain folks might do certain things to me" that I would not like. I asked her if she was threatening me and her answer was, "No, I am just warning you."
When she went back in the two gals on the front porch asked me what did I think she was going to do. I said, "Either destroy the gardens or mess with my truck."
A week or so later I pulled out of the driveway in the morning to take a friend to Walmart so she could shop with her monthly food stamps and help her haul them home. We did this once a month. When I got to the end of the street my brakes felt kinda different. I think the pedal went down further than I was used to. I was going to drop her off at Walmart and go right to the oil change place and have them check the fluid level. I had all green lights on the way there. They felt even worse as I dropped her off. I said I would be back in an hour to get her.
As I pulled out of the parking lot it became apparent that I had a bigger problem than I thought. It would not stop at all. I down shifted to slow down some but it didn't work. I rolled into Michigan Ave right through a red light and when I looked to my left I knew then that there was going to be a BIG problem. Coming right at me was a huge cherry picker semi truck that was dragging a big commercial pick up truck behind it. Yep, it hit me going about 40. It twisted me around and took me with it. Smashed most of the front end of the truck. It pushed me up onto the grassy area and there it landed.
Now, I have no proof of what happened to my brakes but the events that followed gave me somewhat of a clue.
I came home with no truck.
She started to park in the driveway. When I told her that I was going to need the driveway she slammed the door on me right after she said, "No, you won't."
The teenage Grandson moved out that next day.
The rest of the lot of them moved out a week later.
I didn't have much.
I was driving the 1965 retired Summit Township Rescue Squad, for a car. I washed the clothing for 5 and diapers, in a ringer washer and hung it all on the line.
Even in the winter. I called it Freeze Dried. I barely went shopping for myself. Mostly just cleaned and cooked and watched three young sons all the time. I rarely let them out alone. They all had wheels of various kinds and we lived at the bottom of a hill. Cars came around the curve so fast, that they would never see a kid on a Hot Wheels.
I could not tell you how many hours that I sat on those front steps watching the kids play. A lot. I read books there, cross stitched, wrote stuff, talked on the phone, etc.
My view of the world included a 4 ft. patch of grass between the front sidewalk and the parking lot. One day I had this brainy idea that I was going to buy some flats of bright flowers and change my view. I went to Beck's and picked out exactly what I wanted. It took a while to make all those decisions. I wanted a border and some herbs. I even got a Citronella Geranium. Lemon too, if I remember correctly.
I brought it home and proceeded to take a spade to the grass to lift it off. It was warm out. I was working up a sweat. The mail man walked by and politely asked me what I was going to put there. I proudly told him my plan. He said something like, "That will look nice."
I spent all afternoon implementing the plan. I dug deep so the roots would have room. I placed the border and then artistically planted the rest of the plants so it would be pleasing to my eye. I was the one that had to sit there for hours a day. Then when all done you stand back and admire the days work. Check it out from many angles. Yep, it looks good. Gave it a good watering and went in to cook dinner.
About an hour later I heard a strange noise out front. Like an engine running, or stuck. Tires spinning. I went out to see what the noise was to find my husband had backed up into the garden that I had just planted and was aggressively spinning his back wheels in the garden. They were all chewed up and spewed all over the front of the house. The tires were still spitting out dirt clumps and tore up flowers. It made no sense to me. Why the hell would any one do that?
I am not sure I know why he did it but I think he said something about me spending his money on plants.
Things were not to peaceful around my home that night.
He went to work the next morning and after I got up I went out and looked at the disaster that was my little place of Peace. I thought about the mailman that would see it that day. How horrible. I thought about cleaning it all up so it didn't look so bad. I went back inside and got some cardboard. I cut it into the shape of headstones. I wrote "R.I.P. David" on them and planted them in the newly spewed earth.
She held my right hand in hers and very quietly she said, "Just imagine what you want and he will appear."
I had not dated in so long I was at least going to try it. I pictured a tall man with brown wavy hair, a fu manchu mustache, eyes with emotion, gentle hands, hairy chest, looks good in jeans, somewhat fit, passionate, not too rich and not to poor, a hard worker and treats me good. Someone to connect with. It seemed kinda crazy at the time but I guess you never know. What could it hurt?
That night.....
I went to the Flight Deck to hear a band play. They had every seat filled. I sat at a table with friends in the middle of it all. I wanted a higher perch. I kept my eye open for somewhere at the bar to sit. Finally a seat opened up. This one guy left. I got up, squeezed my way to the open seat at the bar and made myself comfortable. Now I can see better. A few minutes later (maybe 10) I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me, that was my seat." he said. "Not now it isn't." I answered back. He said, "Oh, never mind. You can stay. I wanted to talk to you anyway." "Oh really, about what?", I asked. He said something like....I think you are cute and I would like to get to know you. "Ok, I'll stay but you really should walk away now because I am not going to birth you any children. I can tell you are younger and I don't want to get all tangled up in love with you, only to break up when I don't want any more children. " He said, "I did not ask you to have any kids and I won't."
I took inventory and this was what I visioned earlier as I held the hand of the psychic. All the details were there. How could that happen? Could it be? No way!! Before the night was over he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me with passion. Maybe this was him. He asked for my phone number (before cell phones) and I said, "My name is Jana Jamieson and if you really want to call me you will figure out how to find my number, goodnight."
He called the next night and asked me out to the races at Butler Speedway. On the way to the track we were getting to know each other and I asked him what his last name was. He told me. I said hmmmmm I went to school with a gal with the same last name. He said, "Who?" I told him and he said, "You couldn't have she is 15 years older than me." That is when we figured out the age difference. You really could not tell by looking at us. I looked way younger than my age and he looked older than his. It balanced out so we both looked to be the same age.
We dated for the next three years. He was real cool with my sons. They all got along. During the week I needed to take them to activities and help them with homework. He worked out of town all week and came back on the weekends. When he pulled into my driveway on Friday nights I always felt a flutter. I loved the smell of him, his voice, the way he walked ....well everything actually. I was in love. So much that while he was out of town all week I would lay in bed at night and talk to him and I really felt that he could hear me. We always got along very well. We only saw each other on the weekends so there was no time to fight. Most weekends we would go to the Flight Deck and dance all night then end up at Denny's for a late breakfast.
Without bothering you with any details.....making love to him was always a treat. He would ask me if I wanted to have "a session." I could not get enough of this man. Loved, loved, loved him. If I so much as snuggled up next to him and got a whif of his scent, it was go time.
He was exactly what I ordered. Most folks thought we were married.
Once in a while I noticed the way he looked at babies when they were in the same room. He didn't think I saw it but I did. Not in the first couple years but that third year he was. He would look at them with a child like curiosity. He wanted to know more. One day I sat him down and asked him to tell me the truth, did he want a child now? Well, the answer was a solid yes. Shit!! I had full custody of three sons already. That wasn't easy. It was quite a task to work full time and make sure they had something to eat, decent clothing and help them with massive amounts of homework. They were in scouts, church, t-ball, etc. They were about 10, 12 and 14. He worked out of town all week and did not want to leave the employment of that company. He was a construction foreman. I just could not see taking on a baby in addition to everything else. I drew the line. I said no. He let me know that the feeling in him was so strong that he would have to move on. We talked for hours to see if we could come to a compromise but it wasn't going to happen. I did not want to birth a child and he wanted one. We parted ways while crying in each others arms. We held each other tight for what seemed like the longest time and then eventually he walked out the door....never to return. That was the last I saw of him. 18 years ago.
It took him 10 years but he found her. They had a son 8 years ago. A little handsome guy. I am happy for him.
I ran into him a while back. He said hi. I went across the room to talk with him for a minute. I told him that I thought it was cool that he still hung out with my son once in a while. That I liked that they were still friends. All my sons went into construction jobs. I really think they looked up to him. I think he was a great influence.
Before I walked away he asked me if I remembered the photo of myself that I had given him 18 years ago. I did. He said, "I still carry it with me and look at it often." He then said that he thought he had misplaced it a week or so ago and he was none to happy about it. He then found it and felt better.
I should have told him that if he ever did lose it for real that I would get him another. Instead I looked at him sincerely and asked him to run away with me. "Let's just go," I said. The look in his eyes told it all. There was no way he could leave his son. I understood.
He looked down at me and with those really sincere eyes he said, "We really did have something, didn't we?"
Yes, we did.
.jpg)
