Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Luck of the Irish

Every morning I walk the dog.  Two different dogs, same route, 18 years.  Over that time, I've met a few people along the way.   

Around the corner from my street is a retired plumber who raised eight kids in a cape cod that was a better fit for a family of four.  With the weather being warmer, he's out a bit more and so we often visit  before we both move on to the tasks of the day.  Last year I found out he has early Alzheimer's.  I wouldn't have known that then, but this year when he drew a blank right in the middle of a conversation, he told me that he sometimes has trouble finding the right words.  He no longer drives a car and gets around the neighborhood on his bike, which has made him fit everywhere but in his mind.

The other day he was outside puttering with his lawnmower.  We talked for a few minutes and then he looked at me and said, "You and me, we've got the luck of the Irish don't we?"  Oh yes we do, kind man.  I told him I'd let him get back to work, but before I left he said, "Isn't this a beautiful day?  This is the day the Lord has made."  True on both accounts.

This dog of mine and I walked the last block home, and on that lovely spring morning, the wind was at our back, the sun shone warm upon our face and I said a prayer for the friend who always rises to meet me.

3 comments:

  1. Very well put! Brad and I recently attended a K of C Council meeting where we found out about several members who are staring death in the face. I know people leave this world every day but when the good ones do it hurts just a little more.
    People tend to think in terms of "what I want to own or possess" when they should be thinking about what they have, even if it means one more day on this earth.
    P.S. How'd I do with my commas?
    Jim

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  2. I swear you have got the genuine gift. Waiting for the day I stand in line to have you sign my copy of your book or hand me my receipt from your store.

    Becca

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