"I ain't what I used to be, but who the hell is?"
I live outside Chicago with the Redhead, the poet, three cats, and two dachshunds.
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Born on this day in 1915:
About 4 yesterday afternoon, I was enjoying a nap (at home) when it was interrupted by the phone. Nick was calling in a state of near-panic; he had just gotten off the Kent-Cleveland shuttle, only to realize his wallet was still on the bus. No money in his pocket, a plane to catch in a couple hours, and no way in sight to get to the airport. Furthermore, his mother was at the store and not answering her phone.
A few minutes later, I got a hold of her and explained the situation. She called Nick, fulfilled her motherly obligation to yell at him, and then called Parta, the bus service, in the hope that they had at least found the wallet and, if they had, could possibly get it to him.
They did much better than that. The supervisor she spoke to confirmed that the driver had recovered the wallet and was on his way back to the garage with it in hand. In the meantime, Nick had caught a break and was on the train to the airport. This supervisor, showing true charity, said he would personally take the wallet to the airport and make sure Nick got it.
Nick is here now, sleeping in as all good college students do on Saturday morning, so this story has a happy ending. If any of you are in the
