Another old man, a tall one leaning on a cane, with Daniel’s bright blue eyes and straight nose, comes into the picture. This is Uncle… Frank, and he must be a great-uncle if he’s that old. Why he isn’t a grampa, I don’t know.
I do know that Frank is a retired GM man. I don’t think he’s a millionaire, so he wasn’t a top manager, but he’s well enough off that he had planned to spend his retirement years traveling the world with his wife.
I know next to zilp about the career structure of car companies, but I’m assuming something like an engineer must make some darn good money. The problem is, I know a car engineer, and all he wants to talk about is car stuff, which I couldn’t care less about and have no intention of researching, for the same reason. Obviously, if Frank was an engineer, he’d want to talk about cars, so I think I’m just going to leave it very open as to what he did.
Anyway, his wife died before they could get much traveling in, and like most men, he felt depressed and lost without her for several months. It was probably his brother who suggested that Frank visit the town where they grew up. It was much different when he got there, of course. The house where they lived had been torn down and bank sat in its’ place.
This too sort of depressed him, but he found the old pharmacy, now a greasy spoon restaurant, where he got his first job. There he found our old man with the tattered sweater, savoring tomato soup and asking the waitress for more crackers, not to sop up his soup, but because he was still hungry and can’t afford more.
Frank is a kind hearted man, and offered to buy this man his lunch. In the course of their conversation, he found out that “Burt” was a retired doctor, and his very first case in this town had been saving Frank’s sister’s life.
After taking “Doctor Burt” home to a dilapidated trailer park, and seeing the horrible conditions he and other residents lived in, due mostly to an absentee and heartless landlord, Frank decided to buy the place. And thus, Frank found his joy.
NOTE: Obviously there must be much more to that story, and I will get back to it eventually. But for now, Lucy’s description keeps niggling at me, and anyone who’s ever tried ignoring their “muse,” knows that he can get mighty persistent and noisy.