June 29, 2013
I’m walking west on the River Road and a wall of black rain rushes at me and then marble-size hail starts falling on my bare arms and legs. I’m bruised and stung and raw, a hailstone smacks the left lens of my sunglasses, and this kid stops in his truck and yells for me to get in. There are beer cans, a vodka bottle and candy wrappers all under his feet.
He drives me up Clifton Terrace to Genehouse, this beer drinking decent kid and I say, “Thank you, sir,” and he says, “Pay it forward, man.”
Indeed. Cosmos, bless this drunk boy on a Saturday afternoon, protect him and ease his pain.