Midnight Rambler

When I was growing up, the first ten years or so of my life our little town was still a farm town. Yes it was a suburb of Chicago, but you took two lane country roads for miles before you entered the urbanized landscape of Chicago. And being a small town out in the country, everybody knew everybody else. It was mostly friendly and easy to talk to your neighbors. Now that town is part of the unbroken urban Chicago sprawl. 

I don't know if people back in the Midwest are as friendly as they used to be, but I am. I know most of my neighbors here in Gayberry, Florida. In fact Mark refers to me as Mrs. Kravitz, like on Bewitched, because I'm always waving at people, saying hello, and passing on gossip. My problem is that not everybody here is from a small town in the Midwest. The majority are from up around New York and have those "New York values". So I probably shouldn't be so insulted when I am walking Chandler late at night, and people ignore me. Sometimes I try to strike up a conversation with another dog walker and they keep walking without acknowledging me. Just last night as we made our way around the block in the dark, I came upon another man walking a dog about half the size of Chandler. I said hello and made some remarks about the dogs being all frisky because of the cool weather. Nothing. The other guy walking his dog looked at me as if I were some kind of serial killer, and said nothing. He just skedaddled on down the street. That happens often and I can't explain it. Maybe I just look scary at night, or maybe people just don't want to be friendly to a strange man at night. Whatever, one thing I do know is that Chandler is an excellent judge of character. After I said hello to that guy last night and was blown off by him, Chandler went nuts, like he wanted to tear the guy apart. Hmmm... maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Chandler went nuts as I said hello, and then the guy skedaddled.