When I was sixteen, a young man about 19 happened to stop by the lake where I stayed at a cottage. We “regular” kids hung out together after dark and, one night there he was, nap sack,guitar,Great Dane companion and some hash. (The kind you smoke not eat.)
I couldn’t imagine a life of roaming around.
He frightened me although he was such a likable fellow. Dog lover’s rate highly on my initial character evaluation.
I hung around just long enough to listen to his campfire romancing of the “free life”. I have to admit, it sounded like fun.
When he broke out the drugs, I left.
Still, I liked him. I don’t believe he was evil and I vowed never to judge anyone upon there choice of lifestyle again.
Within a day or two,he moved on. I remember considering giving him a loaf of bread. I didn’t though. Once he showed the drugs, I kept away. He may have bartered for the drugs so I felt I couldn’t assume he was a thief. At sixteen, the drugs were enough of a warning sign.
I can’t listen to Mr.Bojangles without him coming to mind.
Sometimes, at age 54, I still think of him. I wonder if it was as grand a life as he imagined. I hope so…