Charlie

At the shop where I work, an old man would visit every day, at the same time...about five o'clock. He would shuffle in, giving a left hook to the air, and sit down on the usual chair. He'd give my boss one of about ten lotto tickets to put his name on, take Gerry's share, and then chat about the troubles of the world. Inevitably, the conversation would allow a trip back in time. We head back to the time he shone shoes in the city, and got a measly tip from a politician. Or the time he met Frank Sinatra ("not a bad bloke at'all") or when Louis Armstrong showed him the warts on the inside of his lower lip from playing the trumpet. Or the there was the time he saw a guy roughing up a young lady in the street, and when he came to her defence, got whacked with the butt of a gun for his troubles. 13 stitches...the nurse said the doctor must have thought he was sewing up a bag of potatoes. All theses stories and more, I heard them every day at the end of trade. The same stories over and over, but such great stories. he would promise to buy me a new car and "a couple of boyfriends" when he and Gerry won the lotto. Sometimes he's bring a little present for me...a nail polish, some skin care samples, a mini torch, an alarm clock. Once he bought in something extra special... a 50cent coin from 1966, 70 per cent silver, "for luck...its bought me alot of luck". A week later, he brought in an American silver dollar from 1921. "I'm the luckiest girl in the world" I said. A couple of weeks after that, he gave me a dollar note that has never been circulated.
His greatest gift to me was his time with me. Listening to his stories gave me time with the grandfathers I was too young to appreciate, too grown up and busy to see, and who were gone too soon.
We haven't seen Charlie since very early in the new year. We suspected the worst, and John finally told me the other day, that he really was gone. He'd found out from another store that Charlie used to visit. Had we known we would've gone to the funeral. I would've worn something bright and colourful. Charlie always said "you're lookin' lovely" when I wore bright colours. And hopefully, Charlie got his "mahogany overcoat", "none of that cheap crap" as he once declared.

See ya' Charlie, I'll miss you. Give 'em hell up there.