Six twenty five.
After nine o’clock last night I got home from a trip to Springfield to see the Festival Carolers with a few friends. It was what it was. I guess I’m not very Christmassy, but then I usually don’t get into it much. Right now I’m looking forward to my morning Snapples. I remember something that happened a few years ago. My driver’s license was up for renewal, so I had to go to the dmv on W 11th before my birthday. I took a RideSource van very early in the morning to their office, stopping once at a house on N Park to pick up another rider. It was still dark out. But the thing that was rather odd was the way I was dressed in a black woolen coat with an old black hat, and I carried a wooden cane for support because my leg hurt. Together with my shaggy beard I looked like Old Nick himself. Later on, when my turn came at the dmv, the person behind the counter’s eyes were saucers upon seeing me, as if she beheld a ghost. And by coincidence, she said her own birthday was the same as mine. So they took my picture and so on, and my image actually photographed. Then I had to wait a long time for my return ride. The trip home took us through Seneca Street and Hwy 99, as I recall, and I thought about the industrial ugliness of that part of town. Maybe it wasn’t Seneca after all…
robgradens 