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* Saturday in the park with Jim: Man with bent back passes bench, we exchange good mornings.  Little dog runs about, mistress tagging along, leash in hand.  Across the grass 50 yards away, three knights of the road (homeless to our unimaginative age) gather on a long bench, catching the self-same freshness of April-morning air as I, who have a home and limit my road-riding to the “L.”

A yellow-sweatered blond, legs jeans-covered, with moderately shaggy medium-sized dog — an older fellow — walking calmly along with her, unlike those little guys that run and run.  Like one who chases the floppy cloth frisbie thrown by his blue-jacketed mistress, leaps, catches in air, wheels about, returns, and does it again, though not always with like results. 

Two days ago, for instance, he did not return after catching cloth frisbie, but dropped it a few feet away, then looked about briefly for a suitable grassy spot, and when he found it took the position recognized by dogwatchers everywhere, to do his stuff. 

He was far enough away from the frisbie-thrower to make the exact location uncertain, so that before I looked away unwilling to see the disquieting results, she was still looking about for what the little fellow had left behind.

* Friend has grandchild named Berlin, so named for the good time her parents had in the capital city of that name.  Paris Hilton’s parents probably had a comparable experience in that capital city.

But what of those who relished their time in Budapest or Copenhagen or The Hague?  Of course, we know that many had fun in Sofia, with its National Opera and Ballet and other features — more we think than any other fun place, to judge by the number of Sophies.

And what of other towns and locations?  Waxahachie, for instance, south of Dallas, whose downtown has  charming turn-of-the-century architecture and friendly people, or the Okefenokee Swamp, where alligators can be seen?  Or Kalamazoo, where the singer had a gal, oh what a gal?  The world beckons.

* Seen on the Green Line on Good Friday: Two perfume sellers making their rounds, or lengths (of cars), peddling.  No sales that I saw, but one rider, herself 200 or more pounds of fun with ample makeup and pierced lower lip, did engage him in brief chatter.

* St. Peter’s Franciscans: Are good liturgists, that is, performers.  They know their lines and stage (altar and aisle) positions and carry it off with appropriate seriouslness and gravity.

They recognize the importance of form and restrain any impulse toward self-expression.  It’s refreshing.  With them the liturgy’s the thing, not the liturgists.

* Tips for weight-losing:  1. Be a nibbler, not an eater.   2. Go to bed hungry.

* Is that a robin I see before me?  Yes but: Among disappointments I have had to endure in my long life has been the realization — I don’t remember when it dawned — that Robin Redbreast has an orange, not red, front.

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