Another pleasant spring evening high upon a limestone bluff by the Mississippi. I set out on a walk and found my elderly neighbor Beulah doing something with an empty plastic trash-can in the driveway.
“Larry, I raked up some leaves and I thought I’d put them in this can, but then I banged my leg against a tree branch. I’m injured; I need to go inside and doctor myself!”
She went back into her apartment; I was worried about her and I knocked on both her front and back doors but got no response. I never did see the pile of leaves she was talking about. I hope she’s all right!
While I was out front I noticed a couple of boys, perhaps 14 years old, inspecting a big TV set out by the curb. After repeated entreaties, my landlord had sent a handyman and his assistant to move the heavy thing out of my apartment — it had been left behind by my renter predecessor Debbie.
I said, “You want that thing?”
“Yeah, but does it work at all?”
“Well, kinda. The picture tube works, but someone tore out the cable and antenna socket. There may have been a fight.”
“We’ll take it!”
“How are ya gonna move it?”
“On a skateboard!”
The boy’s friend had left during this conversation; he came cruising back down the sidewalk on a skateboard and before long the TV was gone. That’s cool! Maybe Albert at his shop down on Maine St. can fix it for them.