The Walking Man Talks…part 2

This is my fifth day of walking to work and I have begun to feel it.

There was talk in the newspapers about how the union and management were getting back together at the table. The last strike, back in 1998, last five whole weeks – but that was summer weather. I’ve got to believe that it’s a lot colder standing out there on the picket line these days.

Still, I have also seen the pictures in the newspaper – and the fellow who is in charge of the union looks like a fellow who likes to argue. You can’t judge people by appearance – but he does look like he’s got a bit of pitbull in his bloodline.

Still, I am making the best of it. I can also feel the fat cells burning and hopefully that will translate to a few less pounds. When you stop to think that I am – basically – walking a 10k footrace every day back and forth to work it has got to have some sort of a physical payoff.

I did see a couple of pretty cool sights coming home today.

As I was walking by the Skating Oval, aiming across the Commons to the corner of Cunard and Robie I saw a remote control model muscle car roaring across the Commons. Try as I might I could not tell where it’s owner was standing – but where ever he was he was having a fine old time. That little buggy was just ripping across the Commons.

Don’t panic. It didn’t tear up the turf. It wasn’t that big of a vehicle. But it did kind of startle and surprise me and it brought a grin to my wind-chilled features.

Then, when a passing greyhound caught sight of the little buggy things got even more interesting. That old greyhound froze and stared fixedly at the little moving vehicle and through my paracanine doggy senses I could tell exactly what that old greyhound was thinking as he stared at that remote controlled speedster.

“It’s that rabbit,” was what he thought. “I have no fucking idea how he got this far up north nor when he got himself a muscle car – but I know for certain that it’s got to be that goddamn rabbit.”


Then, later on, as I was walking through the Airplane Park – that park off of Chebucto – I saw an even more interesting sight.

I saw my first robin.

No, dang it, not that Robin.

This one.

I don’t exactly know what that foolish bird was doing out flying around this far up north when it was still so very cold.

I think he might even have been grinning at me.

I think he might have been taunting me.

But you can’t judge a robin by his appearance any more than you can judge a union representative.

yours in storytelling,

Steve Vernon


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