An older man who lives about a block away was out near the road when we peddled by on our bikes. He had an armload of sticks that had fallen in the rain. (We had four inches according to Jared’s rainometer.) He asked if we needed any sticks, a question meant to be funny, but one we both considered. We collect our own sticks and keep them in barrels. We use them as kindling to get fires in our wood stove going in the winter months. He asked, “What are your names again?” as if we had been introduced but we have only waved to one another over the years.
He told us his name was John and some people call him “Johnny Harmonica” because he plays the instrument in a band. In fact they had a gig that afternoon at Saint Ann’s Home. He said he doesn’t do his own lawn anymore, hadn’t mowed it himself in five years, and the service he has charges him extra if they have to pick up sticks. Johnny said his lawn is mostly weed grass now and he doesn’t care. He’s ninety-four and says, “I used to fuss with it but it’s green and that’s all that matters now.” He said he is never sure whether he has even eaten breakfast so he checks the sink and if he finds dirty dishes in there he knows he has eaten.
We told him we played instruments too and his eyes lit up when Peggi told him she played the sax. He said he played in a big band, one with a sax and violin player, and he uses a pickup so he can be heard.
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knelling?
Knelling: 1. To ring slowly and solemnly, especially for a funeral; toll. 2. To give forth a mournful or ominous sound.
Actually, my mangled spelling of “kindling” coupled with spellcheck gave us this interesting word. I changed “knelling” to “kindling” in the post above.
ask not?