A rare morning commonly found.

Bruno and I were up and out before sunrise, as is usual, for our morning walk. We went to our usual haunt, the river. I will fall well short of describing the moment, but I feel I must try.
It was peaceful. The uncommon peaceful type moment that will stay with one throughout their lives and be judged against all other moments like it. The cold wind was blowing gently in our faces as the Canadian geese a mere few feet away, went through their morning routines of conversation, flapping and trying to impress the fairer of the sex. Lesser scaups dove and landed, their white feathers standing out against the dark water. The Village roosters,(crows), tried to wake the world as song birds warmed their singing voices. As the sun rose over the mountain I realized that I had, at that moment, no worries, no cares. I just "was". I was there, with my pal, Bruno, enjoying a peace that while rare, is all too common here. I noticed that even the usually impatient Bruno was sitting still, watching the water flow lazily by us, caught up in his own silent thoughts. He too, looked to be at peace. All was right in the world. It was a moment that, if shared with all the humans of this conflicted and confused planet, would put a cease to all ill will and hatred and worries, if just for a short while.
I wonder if a hundred years from now if another boy and his dog will stand at that same spot, watching the same sun rise on a peaceful, cool spring morning?

Joe

I would like to share a chance meeting that i had with a fellow in one of those horrid gathering places of mass consumerism a few weeks back. Understand That I am not stereotyping this guy or being a racist, his accent really was this thick and he knows it and says so. I am going to try to type his part as close to phonetically as possible so you too can get the flavour of his accent.
I was waiting for my Tree to get off work when I spotted this elderly fellow sitting on a bench. I nodded and he returned the nod. I came back a few minuets later and sat next to him and thus begins the meeting. His name is Joe.
Joe is an Italian immigrant, somewhere as he says, in his 80's for a while now. He is the veteran of our Air Force and served during Viet Nam. Joe is full of life and stories as I was to find out. With an impish grin and very little pause, he dives right in to a story.
" When-a I was-a in Japan, they had-a me drive a truck-a to a place. Now, I'm-a no truck-a driver, I no know what-a fuck is-a going on, but hey, I do it! Now the trucks, they have-a call sings, you know-a; a=alpha, t=tango and so on. This-a is my first-a time to do this, so I have-a no idea what I do-a. This-a guy, he stop me and ask, are you 124 Charlie? I say-a no, my name is-a Joe! He say, listen here-s you dumb fuck-a, not-a your name, what the truck's name. I say, how the hell should I know the truck's-a name, I never been introduced before!"
After a few laughs from me, he explains how "back then" you could buy a woman for $5.00 for the whole night. He then tells me this short tale and trust me, i cannot do it justice.
"Me and -a my friend from Kentucky was-a at this bar with this guy from-a the Boston whose accent was-a terrible! There was-a this woman there who my buddy bought-a a beer. She starts-a rubbing between my legs and-a I move her hand-a away. She move-a it back-a. Next thing I know-, she in my lap-a! So I says to my buddy, Hey Tom-a, get-a this yougly bitch-a off-a my lap-a!!! The other guy, he say, What the fuck-a he just say? I say Get this yougly bitch-a off-a my lap-a!!!!! He say, What the fuck-a is the yougly??? My friend, he say, That when ugly is-a not enough to describe-a how-a ugly she is. Now, back-a then, my English is not so-a good, not-a like now, so I-a not know how you ugly so I say it yougly. It was-a all over base very soon. A few months-a later I was transferred to Greece. I'm-a sitting ata bar when this-a guy, he come in looking real rough. I say, Hey fella, what's-a happened to you? He say, "I had-a this date last-a night and man! was she YOUGLY!! I says, "you just come-a from Japan? he say, "Yeah, how-a you know? I say never you-a mind!
As I said, I cannot do these stories justice without telling them in person and even still, it would not be NEAR as funny without Joe telling them. I would love to record a conversation with him. Eventually his wife walks up and Joe's face was afire with love that comes from years of waking up next to a beautiful sunrise, and his sunrise is his wife. She too is an Italian immigrant. She looked to be maybe half of Joe's age and a real looker!! Go Joe!!!!! I don't know what his secret is, but it sure works for him.
I hope to meet Joe again, though I doubt that I will. Meetings like this are once in a life time happenings. I type this more for me than for anyone else, so I will remember Joe, and the life that still burns inside of him. To remember his many stories, of which I only shared two short ones. Live long Joe, and keep telling your stories!