This is a little story my Dad told me about this guy, Owen... I typed it up pretty much as he told it, I want to change it around sometime, it is a neat little story.
(A good excuse to get my Dad talking about the past, not like he needs any excuse and all...)
Owen walked everywhere, he didn't have much in the way of worldly possessions. In fact he only ever wore tattered overalls and he lived in a little trailer on the edge of his brothers property. Owen would walk past our house every day, on his way to the store. Sometimes Todd and I would see him, walking along the railroad tracks, his beard hanging down, colored yellow by the "Prince Albert" tabacco that he chewed. We would stop and talk to him every once in a while, he liked to talk. He would tell us about World War I and even speak a bit of French for us. Todd and I noticed that he had piles and piles of tuna fish cans piled outside his door, we told dad about it and dad started to give him deer meat from the freezer whenever he passed. After that we noticed that Owen started to walk on the other side of the street, guess he didn't like deer meat all that much. One day Owen was walking by our house, he was wearing a new pair of overalls. My old dog rebel took off after him, tore a chunk of fabric right out of the leg, I still feel bad about that. That was Owen, his family still lives in our neighborhood.