When we moved to Oneonta, New York, George Hamway was already
an institution. He sat in a battered green truck on the roadside and waved to
everyone who passed. He was ALWAYS there; weekdays and weekends, summer or
winter. He was unshaven, unwashed and toothless, but that didn’t stop him from
smiling at everyone. The German shepherd at his side looked as unkempt as his
master. When I was in school I heard
several outlandish stories about him; the most common one being that he was a
wealthy eccentric. I never quite believed the wealthy part, but eccentric described
him well. He reminds me of a line from an old poem: “Let me live in a house by
the side of the road and be a friend to man.” I suspect more people would have
been friendly back if he was in a house instead of a truck, and if he’d
showered more often.
No comments:
Post a Comment