quite prefer old neighborhoods to new. Neighborhoods made up of grand, perfectly spaced abodes, with perfectly coiffed lawns seem a bit humdrum for my taste. Each home in an old neighborhood, on the other hands, has a story all its own; some are comedies, some tragedies, some are a good old fashioned love affairs.
And let’s not forget a trip to the local service station. Always an adventure, that.
Why, just yesterday I stopped in to find myself bobbing in a sea of gummers. Never in all my live long days have I seen quite so many men without their teeth. It was like a toothless convention. There’s a slight chance I made a nuisance of myself, gawking at each fellow who passed. What about you, kind sir? Do you have any teeth in that head of yours? He would nod and flash his gums, thus giving my answer.
They were quite jovial, those men without teeth–perfectly content to gnaw on their chips and doughnut holes, so long as they could wash it all down with a pint or two.
They’d sidle up to the cash register, goods in hand, patting each other on the back, laughing. I couldn’t help but smile, myself.
So you see, old neighborhoods have quirks, that they do. They also have character. The have the ability to make you thankful for the little things . . . like a smile and a good pair of teeth.
Daily Drop cap by Jessica Hische