travelin2
Pennsylvania Chapter Leaders-retired
In the countryside around Dublin, a tourist leaves a pub into the gray blustery drizzle common to the country.
As he resumed his sightseeing of the quaint locale, he watched the water splashing as his boots navigated the old cobblestone road. He looked up to see a venerable old man, sitting on a crate in front of a pool of water that formed at the side of the road.
His coat, old and tattered, collar popped up, an old wool cap, soaking wet and pulled down across his brow, barely keeping the rain from his gray eyebrows.
The man held a stick with a string tied at the end, and he appeared to be fishing in what was nothing more than a muddy rain wheel rut.
The sight struck the visitor, and he could hardly keep back the emotions of seeing this poor old man, neglected, disheveled, and suffering the confusion of age sitting there in the rain, probably reliving memories of his younger days.
The tourist approached him and helped him to his feet, and casually invited the gentlemen back to the pub, where he offered to buy him a drink, and a chance to get out of the cold for a while.
"Whiskey," the old man said, gruffly and grizzled. "Two," said the tourist, "I'll drink with you."
Enjoying the libation and the warmth of the bar, the visitor struck a conversation with the old man, hoping to hear stories of better days. He cautiously inquired, "It's kind of a rough day for fishing sir. Have you had any luck?"
The haggard fellow peered from under his cap, "A wee bit. You're me sixth one today, lad."
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As he resumed his sightseeing of the quaint locale, he watched the water splashing as his boots navigated the old cobblestone road. He looked up to see a venerable old man, sitting on a crate in front of a pool of water that formed at the side of the road.
His coat, old and tattered, collar popped up, an old wool cap, soaking wet and pulled down across his brow, barely keeping the rain from his gray eyebrows.
The man held a stick with a string tied at the end, and he appeared to be fishing in what was nothing more than a muddy rain wheel rut.
The sight struck the visitor, and he could hardly keep back the emotions of seeing this poor old man, neglected, disheveled, and suffering the confusion of age sitting there in the rain, probably reliving memories of his younger days.
The tourist approached him and helped him to his feet, and casually invited the gentlemen back to the pub, where he offered to buy him a drink, and a chance to get out of the cold for a while.
"Whiskey," the old man said, gruffly and grizzled. "Two," said the tourist, "I'll drink with you."
Enjoying the libation and the warmth of the bar, the visitor struck a conversation with the old man, hoping to hear stories of better days. He cautiously inquired, "It's kind of a rough day for fishing sir. Have you had any luck?"
The haggard fellow peered from under his cap, "A wee bit. You're me sixth one today, lad."
_________________________
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
