Beyond the Badge

My first house was built in 1865. So it was about 100 years old when I was born, and aged gracefully while I grew up. The deed became mine when in was in my mid-twenties. I always told people the place had been pre-owned. A lot.

We bought it in the fall of the year; the heat source was only wood. Two Vermont Castings iron stoves belted out a creaking, crackling song as hardwood became smoke, ember, and ash.

The wind whistling through the old window frames and loose panes as sparsley insulated walls gave those stoves all the oxygen they needed for a good burn. Strategic sitting was required to avoid a draft on your neck or your ankles; usually at the same time.

I was young, broke, dumb, and happy.

My lady-friend, later to be called Mrs. Cotton, was a scavenger of formerly well-loved furniture. She found a good used couch and chair; both were uncomfortable.

She was finishing her degree and stopped by from time to time to replenish the bare cupboards

Pete, the clerk at the Quik Pick, saw him pulling in at 0237hrs and rushed across the store to the four-pot coffee maker. Pete prided himself in making fresh coffee for customers.

Bunn coffee machines are guardians against the slowly creeping sleepiness which haunts those who work late nights and early mornings.

Similar stainless-steel sentinels stand watch in small stores all over America. With a little coaxing from Pete, this Bunn made the best coffee in town.

Incidentally it was also the only coffee in town at that hour.

Pete made sure the machine was kept clean and that the pots were always spotless. He worked 6 nights a week, didn’t talk much about his past life as a bookkeeper, and always said, “God rest her soul” when he spoke of his wife.

The widower’s boat shoes- a Dexter Shoe Company staple- had come apart about five years before.