He stands in all seasons. His weathered skin is older, and his neon coverings hide shabby clothes. He says hello and he smiles, and sometimes he slurs his words just a little but it’s not very noticeable due to the limit on talking he puts on himself.
I’ve seen him as himself, wandering the main road, checking parking meter slots for coin returns. I’ve heard him clink his way to the recycling bin on the side road. I’ve seen him clink home with replenished stocks.
This lollipop man, I guess, is an alcoholic. And I’d love to hear his story. Hear what drives the unsettled momentum only calmed by liquid. But it is not my business. My business is to say hello, pass talk of weather and smile as he smiles to me.
The lollipop man one junction up is the opposite. He is gregarious and upright. He engages with everybody, including cyclists and drivers, and sends everybody on their way with a laugh, a smile, sometimes a song!
But I feel safest with the shabby lollipop man. As far as I know he has never missed his shift, morning or afternoon, he is reliable. I have never worried about crossing at the wrong time the way I have with the lollipop man one junction up, who has had quite a number of near misses due to his chatty distraction.
My favourite lollipop man is as sure as the day is long. He does his job very well and is trustworthy. He is a high functioning, committed human. I like his cheery nod and I wish him well as he navigates his own safe route.
The room above the garage
A Moodscope member.
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