Woody was a quiet man,
who kept pretty much to
himself, one of those who
rarely speaks, and only a
few words when spoken to.
Today, Woody needed a
ride to work as his car
was in the shop for repairs.
And the day before he had
asked a fellow co-worker
for a lift.
Otherwise, he was a man
with nothing much to say,
no questions or answers to
investigate or explain.
It was uncomfortably
strange seeing a man of
fifty or so who seemed
to manage getting this
far in life pretty much
on his own.
Woody was a gray
haired, medium
sized guy who usually
fixed his eyes straight
ahead. He rarely turned
to the side when spoken
to by the person next to
him wanting to engage
in small talk conversation.
How about them Chiefs,
he asked Woody? Do you
like to fish? I went to
Bennett Springs last week
and caught me some fair
sized trout. Ever been there?
The co-worker tried to strike
up a conversation, but got
only “Nope” for an answer.
He finally gave up,
figuring Woody may
be one of those autistic
Rain-man-type persons
like he saw once in a
movie.
It was a long 30-minute
drive to work that day.
“Have a good one,” the
driver bid Woody when
they got to their work-
place destination. “Pick
you up right here at 5.”
Woody nodded his head
and got out of the car.
He made his way to the
door, and opening it he
disappeared as he does
every day, Monday
through Friday, five
days a week, no antici-
pation, no complaints.
Just another routine day
packaging finished goods
in the shipping department.
It’s a living, the co-worker
figured, not a hell of a lot
to say.
-30-
Chris Hanch 6-8-2023
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