//DON'T SHOOT THE MOCKINGBIRDS//
I have kind of a nightly "Boo Radley" moment when I'm out walking my dog. It's usually just after 9 p.m., and we walk around the neighborhood for 20 minutes.
An elderly "gentleman" (because I don't know any differently) strolls the neighborhood about the same time – wearing a vest with flashing red lights on the front and yellow glowing tape on the back. Nothing wrong with that – he's got the sense to attempt being seen by the speeding cars that tear through the 'hood.
However, whenever he passes the house, or Gypsy and I pass him elsewhere, he is always mumbling to himself. At least I hope it's only to himself, because I've never responded.
In reality, just as in To Kill A Mockingbird, my Boo Radley is probably just a nice old man getting some exercise. He good be a war veteran, a loving grandfather, a kind father, a loving husband. But it spooks me out just the same. Guess one day curiousity will get the best of me and I'll at least say "Hello" to the old man.
Gypsy, the "attack" Border collie, could come to my aid, licking the guy senseless if he proves harmful. We both can outrun most old men, and I must say, the T-bone is somewhat athletic enough to fight back. But the Boo Radley-ness might leave me paralyzed – morphing me into Jim Finch.
