His head, crowned with a rough brown leather “plains style” hat and lowered to the point

of avoiding any possible eye contact, slowly swung from side to side as the living 10 pound

grey matter filled pendulum it was.  Hands were buried deep into worn but not yet thread

bare Levi pockets, each apparently in individual search of elusive contents never found.

Layered shirts evidenced the successful achievement of comfort and warmth over that of

contemporary fashion or style.   A slightly over-weight body was precariously balanced on

a straight supporting left leg while the toe of the right leather work boot meticulously

prodded and circled an oblong piece of rock in repeated failed attempts to stand and balance

it in the dark moist foothill soil.   A reddish hued recipient soil oblivious to the supplemental

offerings of blood, sweat, and tears manufactured through decades of back breaking physical

work. A dog barked for wanted attention as weight was shifted to the other leg and the head

momentarily lifted just enough for a reluctant glimpse of the cold surroundings.  A perplexed,

eye brow crunched, tight-lipped expression was cloaked in the shadow of the hat brim and

barely discernible in the low light.  A slow, smooth, steady gulp of crisp November night air

was momentarily held then released with a drawn out audible exhausted sigh with the lung

warmed expelled vapor dispersing into the cool night air.  A seemingly defeat inspired voice

then admitted softly, “yup, I went to the meeting” while a gentle touch of the boot quietly

returned the ultimately balanced rock to its preferred resting position in the cold dirt.

 

My best to you and yours, Lew