There is a man I often see on my route. He is older. Perhaps mid-fifties. He always makes a point of waving to me and calling out "Hey Mailman." He always looked as though he might be a little on the slow side to me, but in an effort to end judgementalism, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Lately, he has decided that we should have a little talk time each day. First he just stopped and offered me candy. I was glad to have it, and thanked him very much. Soon that offering had become cookies. I'm not crazy about eating unwrapped (possibly home-made) treats, but i accepted anyway. This went on for a few weeks.
Last Saturday, the Fashion show started. He came wandering past my truck. I said hello, hoping that it would be enough to keep him moving. It was a hot day and I was ready to go home. He stopped though and asked me, "Do you like my boots? They are new." They did indeed have that new boot shine. I said I did, and seeming satisfied he went on his way.
Monday: Here he comes again. He stops. Again. "What do you think of my shirt?" Hmm...I think I hope that it stays ON!
"It looks great"
"Thank you." He turned to leave but stopped short. "It's blue."
I had to take his word for it. I am color blind you see. I'm not sure what the significance of the Tee's color was. At this point I felt justified in thinking that this man was quite daft. Feeble even. He had moved on after the what I am now calling, The Pigment Proclamation. I was left to shake my head and wonder.
Tuesday: I was making my rounds when I noticed a man walking down the street in my direction. For some reason , he was wearing a full face-mask motorcycle helmet. When he came closer, I realized that it was my buddy Raymond, as I had taken to thinking of him. Oh boy! This should be good. I imagined a quite a conversation ahead. "Yes, that IS a nice helmet. Safety first I say!" He walked right past me though. I have to admit I was a little disappointed. Oh well. There's always tomorrow and all manner of head gear possibilities.
I moved on and rounded the corner to the next street. A very shiny, very LOUD motorcycle was barreling down this street. Mr. Raymond at the wheel. He glanced in my direction as he passed me, waving and revving his growling engine. Then he made a sliding, one foot on the ground, half donut move. Course reversed, he waved at me again, this time goodbye as he drove off out of sight.
I did not judge Ray by the way he looked. I even wanted to give him a pass on the way he acted. Maybe he was just lonely right? But over those past few days I had decided that he had some mental deficiencies. I couldn't imagine that he was even capable of handling a motorbike, let alone be ok with the fact that he was anyway, like it or not. I thought about calling the police. What would i have said? "Hello, there is a fashion conscious old man riding a motor cycle here! Send back up!"
After seeing the sweet U turn he had pulled though I couldn't rightly complain that he was not capable of handling his machine. Hell I couldn't have done that. I decided to let the dude have his fun. One thing is certain, if I see him coming down the street wearing say..... Scuba gear perhaps, I will NOT let him walk on by. His apartment complex has a swimming pool so I have a good idea where he would be headed. One should never Scuba alone!
