Ruby worked part time at the Post Office.
That’s where I met Bob, drunk since 11 this morning. He made wind chimes from abalone shells and flattened silverware.
I went over with Michael, who had come north on ”vacation” after getting out of jail in July, Ruby’s middle boy.
Rudy was the youngest of four sons. Michael had been in jail off and on since he was 14. Number three was currently serving a 39 year old sentence. The oldest lived in Whittier, in East LA.
Earlier in the day, I had chatted about Oklahoma with John, and I had heard the story of a mom’s epic travails in trying to bring her 18 year old home from a Eureka mission.
I felt as if I was undergoing a change of direction with the new year, but I found that I had better questions than answers.