In 1972 in our house in Southside St. Petersburg, my wife shook me awake and said SHHHH! and pointed to the window. There was someone trying to prize the Florida louver window open right there over our heads. I got up quietly and retrieved the circa 1500s Arabian Damascus sword off the wall that my Dad had got during his tour as a Truce Observer in Palestine in the early 60s. The blade is just under a meter long, narrow, and curved. I slipped into unlaced jungle sneakers and put my Việt Nam boonie hat on my head.
I silently exited the house through the back door (unlocked) and went around to the affected side of the house where I saw a fellow working away at the window. He had got the louvers przied up and was
removing a slat. I raised the sword over my head and waved my other hand where he could see the motion from the corner of my eye. He turned his head and froze for a second then moved faster than I thought possible and was gone somewhere across the street where I lost sight of him because the street lights were out.
removing a slat. I raised the sword over my head and waved my other hand where he could see the motion from the corner of my eye. He turned his head and froze for a second then moved faster than I thought possible and was gone somewhere across the street where I lost sight of him because the street lights were out.
I went back inside and told my wife, "He coulda just opened the door but I guess you just get used to doing things a certain way."
No comments:
Post a Comment