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Adrift I See

This change of season.
This dryness of the air.
The leaves falling all around me.
Is this it again?

Is this a revolution
on the carousel of life.
Fleeting glances of what appears
 then is taken away.

No matter how many times it spins
A different person on the pony,
the seat for two,
the kangaroo.

The same course.
but a different way.
It is what it is
as it appears today.

I got a story for you today. It's about a pickup truck, the parking lot outside the Kof C on the south side of Milwaukee and a guy named Doc.

Put aside the country western song you think I'm writing for background music. My pal, Lee Nimmer and I went to Milwaukee for a gathering of top-notch Blues Harmonica Players. We were promised four hours of one of our favorite music genres. They certainly delivered, but that's another story.

When we got to the parking lot on South 92nd Street, Lee spotted an open parking space and decided to back into it. When we got settled and before I got out, he asked me if I had enough room. I told him I thought I did. I carefully opened the door to make sure I wasn't going to get flagged for illegal contact on our next door neighbor. No Problem! Lee got out and looked and realized we weren't between the stripes on the lot surface.

 (If your not from Wisconsin I can explain in depth, without using clinical language, why this is important. But in the interest of shortening a long story. We can do that some other time.)

At this point, another truck pulled in next to Lee's. The driver got out, he looked and realized the same thing. We all stepped back and found another pickup down the line that was straddling two parking spots. The new arrival, Doc, a crusty senior that looked like he more than likely drank too much and smoked more than he should, postulated that the offender was probably a drummer.

Now we were on the south side of Milwaukee. I could have defended the percussionist and said something racist like that was more likely the offender was Polish, but I didn't and that's certainly why Lee and I weren't drawn into any fist fights that night. Sometimes, I'm so proud of me.

Never trust me when I'm out of town.
As we listened to the entertainment Lee and I noticed this lady was sketching the players as they appeared. Lee talked her into selling one of them to him. Later, as she and her husband got ready to leave, she passed him two more. One of them was a compilation of all of the featured players that evening.


I shoveled a little bit of snow Sunday morning. It was a very light snow. 

Ed:
How light was it Jeff?

Johnny:

It was so light I kept checking the shovel to see if I had anything to throw.

It was so light if I threw a shovel full back up in the air and it went back up into the cloud.

It was so light I threw it back on the walk and shoveled it again just to get some exercise.

Johnny Carson said to always quit at three.

That's it from Camp Jeff. 
I'll be back after one more spin on the Merry-go-Round next week.



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