"Blessed are the weird people;
poets, misfits, writers, mystics,
painters and troubadours, for
they teach us to see the world
through different eyes."
~Jacob Nordby
I so love and enjoy all peoples
different . . .
As my father was an eccentric,
I was blest with enjoying those
of a different cut of cloth . . .
I believe they were drawn to my
dad simply because he accepted
them and they felt comfortable in
his presence.
I remember Mr. Bailey; he always
carried petrified dinosaur scat in
his pockets. Sometimes he would
actually lick the polished surface
so we could better see the beauty.
One of my dad's best friends was
a douser. He would come over
with his dousing rod and wend
his way through the outskirts in
search of water. Loved him!
He got a kick out of Gay Johnson's
daughter. She would climb ladders
in her mink coat and spike heels in
order to better see the work he was
doing on her house.
He loved the Asian owner of the
Far East Restaurant. We would eat
there once a month as a treat. Later
he built two fireplaces for the man
in exchange for a piano for me.
I am ever so fortunate to have been
reared by him. God, I so miss him;
beyond the pale . . .
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