The Old Ways Are Dying

R0330155smallHere in Maine now the tourist season is full bloom. New York, New Jersey,Texas and Florida license plates prowl our streets making rude u-turns in heavy traffic to snag rare parking spaces. For the merchants selling tee shirts, lobster mugs and other god awful tchotchke it’s sell the stuff  now or wait til next year. 

It wasn’t always that way. Look closely at the people in the diners and now and then there will be an old man dressed in khakis wearing a belt and suspenders with a sweaty baseball cap glued to his head. He is the last of a breed. Self reliant, taciturn and determined to keep on doing exactly what he’s always been doing until the undertaker carts him off. 

The tourists don’t recognize his type anymore. He belongs to another age. But here’s the thing. This man, once he gets to know you and approves of the “cut of your jib” is your friend for life. You can go away for years and when you come back he’ll greet you like you’ve never left.

“Hi John. Ain’t seen you around for a while. How you been gettin on?”

In his mind nothing has changed at all.

They don’t make them like that anymore.

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