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DAVID BENTLEY'S WEEKLY COLUMN |
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MISTAKEN IDENTITY
It was after hours at the post office. People dashed in and out to check mailboxes. A little, redheaded boy was waiting patiently for his dad to sort their mail. The child stood up against his father’s legs and stared at me as I approached them. I smiled, but he was transfixed. As I moved toward my own mailbox, his body pivoted so that his eyes could follow me. I winked at the lad and pulled a stack of envelopes from my mailbox. He missed not a single movement I made. No matter which direction I turned, or what action I took, this little boy’s eyes were focused intently on me. He seemed to be trying to reach up with his left hand to pull on his father’s pants leg, the way all small children do when they want attention. Yet no words came out of his mouth, nor did his hand make contact with the fabric. He didn’t appear frightened of me, but was watching more as if charmed by what I was doing. Again, I smiled and winked. His mail finally sorted, Dad took his son’s outstretched hand and walked toward the front of the post office. The child looked back over his shoulder to watch me until they turned the corner and were out the door. I could feel the absence of his eyes. Free from scrutiny at last, I sorted my own mail. That’s when a clever grandmother standing next to me said, "I bet that happens to you frequently this time of year." Detecting my confusion, she added, "You know...older man...silver rimmed glasses...white beard...ample belly...with a red parka to boot; and there you are...taking a big stack of letters out of your mailbox." Then I understood. With a huge grin on my face, I rubbed my "ample belly" and let out my best "Ho, ho, ho!"
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SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008 |
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