The more interesting parts of both their lives were in the past. The Loser put the focus on his father's past. He was in his eighties, then nineties. How many more chances would there be? Few -- his father died last December.
At this time of year the Loser's father would talk about how it was his favorite time of the year. The last weeks of August, early September. Same opinion, year after year. It was because of his time in the Boy Scouts, in the early 1930s. The troop would go to the relative wilderness of New Jersey where his father, a city boy, experienced silent nights unmarred by the noise of the elevated train a block away, sunsets over trees instead of buildings. He was in the Scouts for just a few years. Amazing how the experience stayed so fresh for eighty years.
The Loser would say that it wasn't his favorite season as he was not in New Jersey but the city, where the heat and humidity still punished. Same opinion, year after year.
|This station, this car, the one nearest the camera.|