A visit with Rylee. Friday. August 25. 2023.

 

 

A visit with Rylee. Friday. Aug 25. 2023.

"Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, The proper study of mankind is Man." (Alexander Pope.)

I arrived in front of Hruska's Kolaches this morning at 6:49 a.m. with what I thought was a fine haiku:

"Mount Timpanogos –

Thrust up, in legend, to guard

Against the freeways."

 I was ready to study Man in all their shapes and moods.

I was given my first kolache, egg & bacon, at 7:38 a.m.

Then came an unsettling lull in reactions to my sign. No more kolaches. No dollar bills, or even coins. Lots of foot traffic, but very little notice of me.

Until a white-haired middle-aged woman read my haiku several times before demanding: "What is that? Is it anti-Mormon?"

"Certainly not!" I replied. "What makes you say such a thing?"

She did not deign to answer but huffed off.

Initially, I told myself she must be a priggish cretin, an unpleasant anomaly. But then I cooled down and thought, 'If that lady thinks it's anti-Mormon, then others are likely to think that way, too; that may explain the lull this morning.'

So I got off my high horse and hastily scribbled another haiku:

The morning shadows

Melt away in the warm sun –

Yet August weakens.

Within 5 minutes of displaying the new haiku, I got another kolache, and a dollar bill in my canister. Is there any correlation, any causation, here? If there is, I can't see it. One thing that might have made the first haiku this morning less attractive to passersby and bakery customers is that the first line – "Mount Timpanogos" – is a long and slightly difficult phrase to take in all at once. My panhandling experience teaches me that more people will read your first line if it's Dr. Seuss-simple, like "The cat in the Hat", and react more positively than if you start with something portentous, like "Mount Timpanogos." Go figure.

That first dollar bill had stamped on its back, 'FEDERAL ENDORSEMENT OF A DEITY OR RELIGION VIOLATES THE CONSTITUTION.'

But, hey, a buck's a buck. You can pencil in horns on George Washington – but I'm still gonna spend that dollar bill.

So today, I got a total of 8 kolaches. And twelve dollars.

I forgot to shave this morning. Amy and I went to the Provo Rec Center at 5:15 for a swim and a run on the treadmill. When we got home, I felt in a rush, so neglected to mow the chin spinach. I always feel scabby when I don't shave. As I write this, I run my fingers over the stubble, trying to decide whether to shave now or wait until tomorrow morning. Or grow a bushy beard that makes Amy leave me in a few weeks.

Most bakery customers don't make eye contact with me and don't stop to read my haiku, which takes, what, less than 30 seconds to scan? But I do not bear any malice towards these Philistines. None at all. Mainly because the sidewalk slab right in front of where I park my chair is tilted ever so slightly. Just enough so that people who are determined to be oblivious to my presence, usually by staring at their smartphone, often trip over the raised lip of the slab – stumbling away in hilarious disarray. Serves 'em right . . .

Another delicious diversion for me occurs when parents sit at one of the bakery picnic tables while their children monkey with the big overhead umbrella. The umbrellas each have a crank to open them and fold them shut. No child can resist a crank – they are hardwired to start turning it the moment they lay eyes on it. This results in the umbrella canvas collapsing on the whole family and threatening to smother them. It's a scenario that never grows stale to me.

About halfway through my shift, a young lady named Rylee bought me two kolaches, one savory and one sweet, and then sat down on the sidewalk next to me to chat. We had a pleasant ten-minute visit. She's a dental hygienist from St. George who only works four days a week. SHE WAS STUMPED when I asked her what she did with her 3-day weekends.

"Clean the apartment?" she replied doubtfully.

She clearly felt a more dynamic response was needed, so she added:

"Maybe go on a date or something?"

I decided not to press Rylee. If she wants to spend three days a week on the couch, sucking on a can of Cheez Whiz, while watching Hulu, that's none of my affair.

At 11:54 a.m., I was offered kolache #9 by a kindly-looking gent in a black t-shirt and shorts with the Nike logo on them both. I politely turned him down, explaining that people had been so generous that I didn't need any more. (Amy is making fettuccine with hamburger/tomato sauce for lunch today.)

And so I closed up business for the day on the stroke of noon. I put all eight of my kolaches out in the community kitchen here at Valley Villa for others to enjoy. Five minutes later, a lady from down the hall brings us the platter they were on and thanks us for the meal. Did she take all 8? I suspect she did. I'd like to knock on her door and ask. But as my Uncle Felbish used to say while stuffing dynamite down the garbage disposal: "Never trouble trouble unless trouble troubles you."