Of all the columns I written over the years, there is one that stands head and shoulders among the rest. Of course, it isn’t one about people who have faced adversity, triumphed over impossible odds, or overcome hardships that impede their daily living.
At times I’ve written columns as tributes to good deeds done under the radar, or the power of love and romance. I think I’ve written quite poignantly when it came to the recognition of those who have left us or those who were taken far too early.
No, none of these has had quite the impact or the effect of one particular article I’ve written. People burst into laughter and can’t finish their sentence when they remember to tell me “Hey! I saw him!”
The Chicken Man. I wrote about a fellow who my beloved first spotted one day while driving on Lake Road. The man was riding his bicycle, and there was a chicken sitting calmly on a stick, slung over his shoulder. I didn’t believe him until I saw it myself the next day, for he seems to travel the same route every day, sometimes twice a day. I said that I would write about him if I ever had the chance to speak with him, and yesterday I did. I was driving in my car and spotted him right away. I couldn’t believe my luck because I thought I would never see him again. Making a quick U-turn, I drove up slowly beside him.
I told him who I was, asked him his name and if I could write about him. His smile said it all when he answered “My name is Todd.”
I told Todd that I thought it was amazing that he taught this chicken to stay on the stick with him while he rode the bike, and that many of our readers did too. I made sure to look to see if “she” was tied down in anyway, and noticed that no, she was free as the proverbial bird.
“I heard her name is Lucy, is that right, Todd?” I asked as we rode side by side, slowly down Lake Road.
“Actually, no.” he answered slowly. “Her name is Whoosy.”
“Really? Where did you get that name?” I was intrigued but the chicken was looking at me as if to say “what’s your problem, sister, it’s a better name than yours, pegleg…”
“Well,” he began to explain. “You know how horses wear blinders to keep them from looking around when they are pulling a wagon?” I nodded.
“Well, she can’t wear blinders, they keep falling off her head, so she looks around a lot. I try to keep her on track by saying ‘Whodoyasee? Whodoyasee?’ So it became Whoosy.”
He smiled quite satisfied with himself. I was almost afraid to ask the next question.
“How did you get her to ride on the bike with you?” I wished I’d had a tape recorder with me.
“Oh, she likes to do a lot of different things, but she enjoys bike riding the most.” He smiled and the chicken was getting antsy.
I always know when its my cue to leave. I smiled at my two new friends and realized I had more questions. They would have to wait until next time. Whoosy was getting hungry for lunch.
I think the next time I see him I’ll ask if she’s partial to chicken salad or tuna.
At times I’ve written columns as tributes to good deeds done under the radar, or the power of love and romance. I think I’ve written quite poignantly when it came to the recognition of those who have left us or those who were taken far too early.
No, none of these has had quite the impact or the effect of one particular article I’ve written. People burst into laughter and can’t finish their sentence when they remember to tell me “Hey! I saw him!”
The Chicken Man. I wrote about a fellow who my beloved first spotted one day while driving on Lake Road. The man was riding his bicycle, and there was a chicken sitting calmly on a stick, slung over his shoulder. I didn’t believe him until I saw it myself the next day, for he seems to travel the same route every day, sometimes twice a day. I said that I would write about him if I ever had the chance to speak with him, and yesterday I did. I was driving in my car and spotted him right away. I couldn’t believe my luck because I thought I would never see him again. Making a quick U-turn, I drove up slowly beside him.
I told him who I was, asked him his name and if I could write about him. His smile said it all when he answered “My name is Todd.”
I told Todd that I thought it was amazing that he taught this chicken to stay on the stick with him while he rode the bike, and that many of our readers did too. I made sure to look to see if “she” was tied down in anyway, and noticed that no, she was free as the proverbial bird.
“I heard her name is Lucy, is that right, Todd?” I asked as we rode side by side, slowly down Lake Road.
“Actually, no.” he answered slowly. “Her name is Whoosy.”
“Really? Where did you get that name?” I was intrigued but the chicken was looking at me as if to say “what’s your problem, sister, it’s a better name than yours, pegleg…”
“Well,” he began to explain. “You know how horses wear blinders to keep them from looking around when they are pulling a wagon?” I nodded.
“Well, she can’t wear blinders, they keep falling off her head, so she looks around a lot. I try to keep her on track by saying ‘Whodoyasee? Whodoyasee?’ So it became Whoosy.”
He smiled quite satisfied with himself. I was almost afraid to ask the next question.
“How did you get her to ride on the bike with you?” I wished I’d had a tape recorder with me.
“Oh, she likes to do a lot of different things, but she enjoys bike riding the most.” He smiled and the chicken was getting antsy.
I always know when its my cue to leave. I smiled at my two new friends and realized I had more questions. They would have to wait until next time. Whoosy was getting hungry for lunch.
I think the next time I see him I’ll ask if she’s partial to chicken salad or tuna.
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