When I was around nine years old, I was going someplace with Grandpa Al in the city, and we came up to the bus stop just as the bus was passing by.
Grandpa Al and Grandma Amy both treated me like a one year old baby until I was eighteen, so when Grandpa looked at me and asked, "Can you run?" I believe he meant it as a serious question. I took it seriously, of course, and gave him a stern,
And off we ran, after the Muni bus!
We ran one block, just caught up with it as it stopped at a red light, and then the light turned and - darn it-we missed it! But just.
Now, all of my life until I was nine years old, I had known that my grandpa was a runner, but now I saw him running- unteathered. (He would tie a rope around his middle and tie the other end to my bike, and pull me up the hills of San Francisco, but never before had I seen him run free, so to speak.) The most striking thing about his running was the noise. He must have had just pockets and pockets full of change. The noise of the change clanging was just wonderfully deafening! (I recently noticed that Verona, Wisconsin has a street called "Silent Lane". We could never live there.) So we ran and ran, and every time we almost caught the bus, the light would turn green and we would loose it again.
This went on for seven blocks.
Oh, I was gasping for air! And we were creating such a spectacle. We were so quick.
We finally caught up with the bus, really, after seven blocks. (I say seven. I really don't remember. But it was a long ways.)
I boarded the bus with a feeling akin to that of reaching the top of a tall mountain. I had proven to Grandpa that I could run! Gasping for breath. Alvin paid the fare with the buckets of change from his pockets.
We rode for maybe three blocks, then got off of the bus at our destination. I was too young to see the irony, that we had run seven blocks to ride the bus for three. No matter.
I've probably already told this story. So what? It's my blog.*I'll do as I wish.
* I've noticed that I lost two subscribers recently. I'm wondering if they were vegans who couldn't handle my new meat-eating ways. It brought out this weird side of my personality. I now wonder, How many readers can I get rid of? Go ahead! **Unsubscribe! See if I care!
**I mean, please don't unsubscribe. You might hurt my feelings.