So I am walking along on this beautiful day, thinking about a problem or two in my life, when I go down an alley to cross over to a variety store. There are three young men smoking in the alley and one is talking excitedly while the other two listen. Surrounding the talkative guy is, apparently, all his belongings – in bags and a recycling box. As I walk by I hear one guy tell him, “If you haven’t found a place by 3:30, give me a call.” I think the young man has been kicked out of his home, but that is a guess. I have no problems, come to think of it.
©2014 Jim Hagarty
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Author: Jim Hagarty
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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