The Pig…

The trains just weren’t running today.  I saw only two long freight trains and one short local in the two hours of sitting on my favored bench behind the bank. I sat reading my Model Railroaders and smoking.   I did get to see an old dilapidated GP-38-2 from the seventies pick up a string of pulpwood cars in the wood yard. That excited me as the GP-38-2 is my all time favorite diesel locomotive.  Disappointed, I finally walked up to the Piggly Wiggly which is just up the street.  I parked on a bench, ate some cheese and wheat crackers, and began people watching.  There was an interesting little altercation when the police were called when a man had been found to be stuffing steaks down his pants.  I couldn't help but laugh and feel sorry for the young Hispanic man at the same time.  He must’ve really wanted a barbeque bad.  I can distinctly remember the look on his face as he stood a few feet from me handcuffed.  A look of being lost and bewildered. He feigned that he couldn’t speak English as the police officers questioned him.  There is always something interesting happening at the Piggly Wiggly.  It is in a high crime area. 

This morning reminded me of all the times George and I would sit out in front of the Piggly Wiggly drinking beer years ago.  Slop would be panhandling and Ferret would be up to his usual drunken antics.  Cap w/Tag Guy would be standing outside selling crack mute as always.  Clara would usually show up midday after drinking all night and sleeping behind the dollar store in her little nest of dirty blankets.  She would beg me for a few dollars so she could go inside and buy another bottle of cheap wine.  Sometimes, she would feel generous and pass the bottle around to us as we would take drinks of that acrid swill that is Wild Irish Rose.  George always called it cough syrup, but that didn’t stop him from drinking it.  Occasionally, they would chase us off saying we were loitering – the manager blustering obscenities at us calling us vagrants. I lived like a homeless person then, except I had a home.  Old habits die hard as they say.

I just called dad and asked for my medications early.  He said he would call me when he got home.  He was at Ponder’s nursery picking out new plants to line the edge of the fence in the backyard.  My father’s busyness astounds me.  He is twice my age and I couldn’t do half of what he does.  I would be lazily at home on my day off after working for days.   His days off are spent cleaning and improving the house and yard.

Dad and family are going to D.C for the 4th.  It is my sister-in-law’s birthday as well.  Dad told me last night he wished I was going and it shocked me.  Usually, they don’t want me to go as I can be hassle medication issues and all.  I have to take extra medications to make it through the airport and all that travel.  Dad will laugh and say they have to dope me up for the trip.