While I was taking Betty for her walk this afternoon, the Swiss eccentric, Edouard, called out to us. He is a dog-lover, and wanted to greet Betty. She likes him too, and clearly considers him a friend. After giving her a lot of attention, he said "she probably smells wine on my breath." (He said it in Spanish, but I translate.) He showed me his tongue, which was purple from the fruit of the vine--he was obviously three sheets to the wind. He gave me the useful information that, in Germany, Johnny Walker Red is Johann Geht Rot. But he pronounce "geht" to sound more like the English word "get," so I guess that must be how it is in svitsdutch. About then an attractive young woman went by on a bicycle,and he followed her up the block with his eyes (actually, I think his whole body turned). He said, "for me, it's a memory--many years ago." "My bird is dead," he said. I guess he's in his sixties, and I'm in my seventies, so I probably know more about dead birds than he does. Sometimes there are ways to revive them, at least for a time. We commiserated a bit with each other, and then Betty and I had to go. Although Eduardo's property is filled with an incredible collection of junk,he's a friendly guy, and I consider him an asset to the neighborhood, dead bird and all.
28 March 2017
