My Friend

Some people believe my friend, Marshall, is fictional. If you do, I don’t care. He is real. I have pictures. They are not fuzzy piics like sasquatch. The pictures depict him as a well groomed, educated and terrific man…..and friiend.

Even with glasses, Marshall taught me how to see, but far more importantly, listen. He and I listened to ballgames on the radio when they were on a T.V. ten feet away. (It was glorious.) We listened to carnival rides at the State Fare, and both said, “F that noise”. That was a ride we never bet on.

Don’t just see. Bet on Listening. Then, and only then, can you can translate the Bull S—t

Thank you, Marshall.


Some see, but forget how to listen.

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