10/27/2023 0 By BuddyCushman

Walking up Spruce Street I looked at a set of spacious second-floor windows at a house on the corner, turned around to see they offered a view right down over the Spruce Street suspension bridge, and said to no one other than me, “That’s crazy.” It wasn’t the Patsy Kline heartbreak crazy. Nor was it Ozzie’s psycho train crazy. More of a “Wow”, “Gosh”, “Far out” crazy. Crazy, this morning, feeling large, with big, wide arms.

Scattered here and there on the morning walk were homeless folks, sitting on the sidewalk and pushing carts, sleeping under piles of fabric, and that seems crazy too. Probably closer to Ozzie than Patsy, but not really anything like either. Or my “Wow.” A crazy feeling more off; more wrong.

I’m trying to live this still-here, grateful life of mine these days without opinions, and for sure not to share any. There’s already enough stuff on the planet. This is simply a place I get to tell stories. Like here, the way of the world I see this final Friday before Halloween.