The Key to Life

By Jim Hagarty
2014

A neighbour rang the doorbell this morning.

“Could I borrow the key to my house?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied and went and got it. “I’ll bring it right back,” he said.

“No hurry,” I answered. He has our key at his place.

I want always to live on a street where I have the key to my neighbour’s house and he comes and asks to borrow it when he misplaces his copy.

Next on the agenda: The keys to his beautiful truck and car. (He can’t drive both of them at the same time.)

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.