Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Cleveland Browns 51, Cincinnati Bungles 45

I heard the last quarter of the Browns game on the radio on the way back from Evansville, Indiana, where the kid who lived with us for half his teen years, Mark, got married on Saturday. We got back home, and I took the dogs out for their evening stroll. As we were walking along the river, two guys approached, both wearing orange traffic cones on their heads. As they drew closer, the one on the right had two traffic cones on his head, stacked on top of each other, one black under the orange one, and was wearing a Cincinnati Bengals sweatshirt. The other guy wore only one cone with his Cleveland Browns sweatshirt. He was excited, giving me the thumbs up, yelling, "Browns WON, Dude!" I said, "Yeah, great game!" with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. The Bengals guy, staggering a little, exclaimed, "It was amazing! What a great game!" then punctuated that with "They almost scored 200 points!"

Errrr ... yeah, I guess so. Like 51 plus 45 is so-o-o close to 200. It's like some kind of record, dude. Totally awesome. Almost as good as that cheater Bellichick could do ...

On the other end of the spectrum, a guy driving down Robert Lockwood, Jr., Blvd. stopped his car at the intersection of St. Clair at the stop sign, opened the driver's door, alighted from the car, and walked toward me and the three dogs.

"The dogs cool, man?" asked the 20-ish, shaved-headed, skinny kid with scruffy whiskers growing from his chin.

"Unless I tell 'em not to be ... yeah, they're cool," I replied.

"I have some spaghetti dinners for the homeless. Where should I go?" he asked.

"There's a place across the river ...," I started, pointing across the river.

"I was thinking about Tin City," he said.

So, I gave him directions to the plot of land under the Innerbelt bridge near Jacobs Field, where a lot of homeless had settled, living in tents and makeshift sheet metal structures. "Thanks. God bless you!" he called out, running across the street to his open car door, two cars stopped, honking horns, waiting for him to move.

And I felt blessed, having run into him.

And that was that.

Posted by Bill at September 16, 2007 09:13 PM