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The Savages Are Within The Gates And Taking Over

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For those who think our North American culture has progressed  over the last fifty years, I offer this conversation I heard on a city bus mere hours ago.

This is between two gentlemen sliding out of their sixth decade. One was even wearing the garb, and affecting the  pony-tailed hair, of the actual Sixties of the last century. The other had a sports coat and neat pants, and was carrying a number of books.

Sports Coat (to bus driver): Do you go past the New Library?

Bus Driver: No, but I go past the end of the street. A ten minute walk.

SC: OK – I can do that.

Pony Tail: You taking books back?

SC: Yup. My Sunday chore. I’ll get others.

PT: There’s a closer library – right along here.

SC: Jeez – I can’t go there.

PT: Why?

SC: Loud as hell.

PT: What?

SC: The kids. They run the place.

PT: You mean after school?

SC: All the time I’m ever in there.

PT: They can be loud.

SC: They’re savages taking over.

PT: They’re just young.

SC: In my day, kids showed some respect.

PT: It’s a small library. Things sound louder.

SC: The librarian would shut us down.

PT: It isn’t that bad.

SC: She’d tell us to shut up, and that would be it.

 

He never – it is true – used the phrase: To Hell in a Handcart.

(image)i.huffpost.com/gen/1640210/images/o-LIBRARY-UNIVERSITY-facebook.jpg

 

 

 

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The Time He Could Have Been King Of Montréal

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“I don’t mean to stare – I apologize. I’m not in the habit of doing this, but you remind me of someone. That has to sound like a line – the look on your face. But I’m not after ….

 

“Have you ever been in the train station at Place Ville Marie in Montreal? The escalators that come up by the Queen Elizabeth Hotel.  I had a lot of travel to get to work when I lived in Montreal, and made train and bus connection.

 

“No, thanks. I don’t want another.

 

“One morning – a Thursday – as I was going up the escalator, I saw a girl coming down from the street. She had short red hair – that’s the main reason I’ve been staring – and a green skirt with a white blouse. Coming down that escalator, with that wide space between us. She was looking at me the way I was looking at her – interest and excitement and whatever potential that leads to. We stared into each others eyes as we came level, and craned to look back as we passed.

 

“I guess I’ll have another of the same, after all.

 

“That was stupid enough. I should have jumped that barrier, or at least gone down after her. But I had a job, and was young, and things like that just don’t happen.

 

“Next morning, even though I was looking for her, and hoping so much, I couldn’t have been more shocked by a ghost when I saw that red hair. She had that same look – of shock.

 

“God, to be so unsure of what to do, and stupid to the ways of the world, and even to have that stabbing thought that it can happen again tomorrow. We stared and stared, you could almost feel electricity between us. At the top I waited as long as I dared, hoping she would come up. I had to get my bus. I just jumped it as it was pulling away.

 

“That was a Friday. I sweated through the weekend, full of grand plans about telling her to wait, or to come up to me, or yelling my phone number. She wasn’t there, of course – on Monday or any other day. I looked the rest of the summer, then it was back to university.

 

“I mean, to be given one chance like that and waste it. But two. I’ve never forgotten, even now with a wife and kids, I wonder what might have been. It can make my hands shake, seeing someone like you, and with too much drink in me.”

DE

(image)https ://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/04/34/64/1f/underground-city.jpg

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