THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Just because the guy sitting next to me at Abbott's Habit this evening was BARKING like a dog, it didn't put me off one bit. In every other respect, he seemed like a perfectly decent fellow enjoying his coffee and reading the Wall Street Journal. The pidgeons were running off the little finches who wanted to share the discarded pizza crust, there was a cool ocean breeze tossing my hair about my head, and nancy x. was sharing all of the great artistic endeavors she plans to execute while camping out at my nest in a couple of weeks. Another day in the neighborhood.
Long ago, in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood in TVland, Mr. Rogers would zip up his neat sweater and in a slow, gentle voice ask something like "Hi neighbor, can you say ladybug?" Or, "Can you say sock factory?" Well, I had a friend in college who could imitate Mr. Rogers to a tee, and he used to come up to me and say in his Mr. Roger's voice, "Hi neighbor, can you say quaaaaaaaaaaalude?" He always made me laugh.
