Allister Cromley's Fairweather Belle (Bedtime Stories For Grownups To Tell)
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That's A Nice Sandwich Ya Got There

4/23/2012

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Allister saw an old man one day. He looked like his grandfather or my grandfather or your grandfather, slightly bundled from the cold that was beginning to melt away. But, that day, it was finally sunny. Not completely warm yet, but the promise was there. The old man had on a knitted cap and gloves and they all seemed in good condition, as did he. 

And, as Allister passed him, he leaned his torso over and into a garbage can. He came back up with a newspaper and a quarter of a sandwich emerging from its tin foil like a pearl escaping from an oyster shell. The old man shuffle-walked two feet and handed the quarter sandwich to a waiting friend, another senior citizen who looked much like Allister's or my or your or someone we know's grandfather. 

And Allister would never have pegged them as homeless. He was not sure, even when telling me the story, if they actually were. They seemed just like two grandfathers canoodling. They were clean and smiling and hanging out in the sunshine with all the passersby. It was odd. But, so sweet, too.

The first grandfather kept the paper to read while his friend enjoyed the pearl sandwich. 

And, as Allister walked past, he had this thought, "That's what I want to be when I grow up."
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A Steady Stream

8/25/2011

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Now, this is strange. And Allister never knew if what follows had/has ever happened to anyone else. But, it had happened to him enough to count as several.

He would be in a public bathroom (urinating, as it were) and some older fellow in the neighboring stall next to him would say, “I remember those days,” pining for the days when he could urinate with gusto.

As hard as that may be to believe, Allister swore it was true. And that it had happened more than once.

Now, Allister had never thought that he had some extra-strength pee-force.

And the neighboring tone was always so tinged with nostalgia and reminiscence that you could not mistake it for perversion. No, no. That guy was remembering moments he never would have imagined he would want to remember. Moments and streams at urinals across the country (and perhaps the world) that he had come in contact with throughout the tenure of his life.

It was not something Allister thought about when he thought about aging. That he would pee slower. Or even that, one day, he would miss his once-youthful stream. It made Allister wonder whether somewhere there was another guy, older than the first guy, who was pining for the days when he pined for the days when he could pee with more force.

And Allister never knew the proper response.

“Thank you,” would have been the easy way out. That would have shown that he was appreciative and it also tended to hide (perhaps) some of the uncomfortableness of the situation. But, there was always part of Allister that wanted to console the guy, too. To encourage him to keep at it because…well….because he had to.

Something in Allister that always wanted to say, “And you pee really good for your age.”
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