He walked with an umbrella

Friday, September 29, 2006

He walked along the side of the road. He carried an umbrella. He wore a straw hat that was tidy and trimmed and a cardigan that was the same-- tidy and trim. He was 65 ... maybe seventy-five, thin, grey, and black.

He could've called a cab. He could've bought a moped. He could've hitched or called a friend.

Instead, he walked.

He could've used a cane. He could've tried crutches. He could've used the hand of a friend.

Instead, he chose the umbrella.

Something about that man struck me. Somehow, he seemed like the most dignified person I'd seen in a long time. I looked at him and could imagine him easily at 30--young and strong and dressed the same.... in a hat and jacket... carrying an umbrella. Ready to celebrate.

Call me an English major, but it reminds me of a poem by Dylan Thomas, "Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night"-- It starts like this:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Soooooo.... Cheers to hanging on to the things that make you feel alive, whether they be a good run or a nice umbrella.

Sunshine. Pizzaz. Pink.


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