The truth is, I found myself wandering home down Mill Street. Sometimes it's tough to tell whether it's late at night, or early in the morning..........so it was early one morning, and I was whistling "I am a pilgrim" while I walked home.
"I am a pilgrim" is a good tune for walking, if my left foot lands on every downbeat, I can walk from my side of town to yours is about twenty minutes; the whole time whistling a merry tune, but I digress.......
When I came to Ann Arbor Trail, I contemplated the crossroads for a while, but that's for another time.
Wait just a second, the warmth of revelation surrounds me .." I am a pilgrim, and a stranger, traveling through this worrisome land." I just spent the evening hanging out with some of the finest pickers in town, I wonder if any of them would be interested in playing an old dusty traditional tune like " I am a pilgrim "? I strongly dislike being illuminated by headlights, I guess That's probably how a raccoon would feel about it. Raccoons have it tough these days, with times being hard and all. Mr. Miller got laid off from his job, so the family tightened the belt; which meant the garbage can was a whole lot leaner than usual. The house next door to the Millers is in foreclosure, and there is no garbage can at all. The family two doors down from the Millers throw their table scraps outside to a fat, mean stray cat; who was abandoned by his family when they lost their home. There isn't a raccoon in the bunch that would mess with that mean cat, fat cat, upset that things were going fine, but now he's out on his can type of cat.Yes sir, things are fine and dandy here. The people get desperate. Some cats get fat. The raccoons get skinny.