CITY SQUARE- There’s a witch- hazel tree outside the museum, there is Ralph spraying the deck of the Pub with a hose. Every morning I pass by I wonder if Ralph knows, if he knows that I know that he sings. His life has been rammy and hard, yet I know that Ralph sings. it is mid day now tables are set up to sell, books, fortunes, fudge, homemade knitting and lace. A group of young men sit, smelly together, they are laughing at Godfrey passing by with his suitcase. He wanders through city square with his plaid suitcase, they are laughing at Godfrey I do not understand why.

City square busy, late afternoon sun, street musician plucks out a slow banjo run. I can smell fish and chips, crows wander expectant, from the cafe a crash and the shout of a woman, “Marlene, she screams, that was disinfectant, not soup”. problem going on in there, as I sit neath the witch hazel tree in the city square.

Cool evening now in city square, young chap and his dog settle down to sleep out there. On the harbor steps is where we met, where I, Lost John, met up with Godfrey watching the sunset.

LOST JOHN- He was shaggy and old; he  had scuff kneed coveralls on, he had three teeth, feather in grimy hat, he introduced himself to Godfrey as only Lost John.  He reminded Godfrey of  a tramp from his childhood back in Wales, they hopped a freight train leaving Hope, and Godfrey listened intently to the old hobos’ tales. He listened to the stories of this old prospector man, he learned  how to read the streams and gold-pan. Godfrey said’ to see the Fraser Canyon, from a train has long been a dream I have had, to know its’ history  also makes me feel very quiet round the fire and sad. Lost John said, “I feel it to, dark days in early spring, I hear pick-axes, and voices in the wind, there are places in the canyons, I will never go, and some nights along the tracks Ive’ seen a moving lantern glow…though posessive of the streams and creeks he panned on, Godfrey , learned some life’s lessons from the hobo Lost John, around his neck in a pouch he wore a small gold nugget, heading for the mountains when Godfrey journeyed on..

THE ROAD TO BEET COULEE- With a bag of apples at his side, given kindly by his last ride, on a gravel road somewhere west of Beet Coulee, looking back at the Rockies in awe, sat Godfrey. A smelly old man in a rusted out van, a rather shy chap who said he grew birdseed, and a bus load of Bingo-Bound, elderly ladies unruly, were rides Godfrey had on the road to Beet Coulee. But the lift that Godfrey enjoyed the most, dropped him off with the apples in the shade of a post- these words he read carved on it. “I WAS HERE, GIVE ME YOUR ANGER, YOUR SORROW, YOUR FEAR, AND I WILL GIVE YOU PEACE…That day on a country road west of Beet Coulee, the words struck a deep chord in the heart of Godfrey. His 5th wisdom came on the breeze as he sat, eating warm wild blackberries out of his hat. on a gravel road, somewhere west of Beet Coulee, looking back at the  Rockies in awe, sat Godfrey. AND HIS 5TH WISDOM STATES- SUN WARMED BERRIES, LIGHTLY DUSTED BY A COUNTRY ROAD AND DEW RINSED, MAKE THE FINEST LUNCH..THANK YOU FROM GODFREY.



  1. The description of the city square is so perfect I can hear Ralph singing, a banjo run, laughter and shouts. The sounds and smells of an early morning in a town center come back to me. Lost John and a ride from unruly women. Delightful.

  2. My goodness, this is rough draft of one of my very first Godfrey stories, twice a day, year round I pass through our old city square- so full of stories. Thank you- must fix it one day.

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