I received this email and I thought it appropriate to post it in this blog.
One day a florist went to a barber for a haircut. After the cut, he asked about his bill, and the barber replied, 'I cannot accept money from you, I'm doing community service this week.' The florist was pleased and left the shop. When the barber went to open his shop the next morning, there was a 'thank you' card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door.Later, a cop comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replied, 'I cannot accept money from you , I'm doing community service this week.' The cop was happy and left the shop.The next morning when the barber went to open up, there was a 'thank you' card and a dozen donuts waiting for him at his door.
Then a Congressman came in for a haircut, and when he went to pay his bill, the barber again replied, 'I can not accept money from you. I'm doing community service this week.' The Congressman was very happy and left the shop. The next morning, when the barber went to open up, there were a dozen Congressmen lined up waiting for a free haircut.
And that, my friends, illustrates the fundamental difference between the citizens of our country and the politicians who run it.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
The Congressman and the Barber
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Over the Rainbow
A local theater displayed posters of what was showing at my father’s barber shop. In turn, they got free tickets. One of the movies that became a hit was “The Wizard of Oz” directed by Victor Fleming and based on the 1900 children’s novel by L. Frank Baum. I learned of this little detail when my mother mentioned Arlen and Harburg’s “Over the Rainbow” sung by Judy Garland.
She and my father saw the movie which earned Judy a special Oscar in 1940. “Over the Rainbow” turned into Judy’s signature song and topped the “Songs of the Century” list, a project of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), the National Endowment for the Arts, and Scholastic Inc. ”White Christmas” sung by Bing Crosby was second in the list, followed by: Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land” (3rd), Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” (4th) and Don McLean’s “American Pie” (5th).
The music that Harold Arlen composed for “The Wizard of Oz” with lyrics written by E.Y. Harburg, became a classic ballad, and more popular than the movie itself. It has been interpreted in many ways by several artists.
Somewhere over the rainbow Way up high,
She and my father saw the movie which earned Judy a special Oscar in 1940. “Over the Rainbow” turned into Judy’s signature song and topped the “Songs of the Century” list, a project of the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), the National Endowment for the Arts, and Scholastic Inc. ”White Christmas” sung by Bing Crosby was second in the list, followed by: Woody Guthrie’s “This Land is Your Land” (3rd), Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” (4th) and Don McLean’s “American Pie” (5th).The music that Harold Arlen composed for “The Wizard of Oz” with lyrics written by E.Y. Harburg, became a classic ballad, and more popular than the movie itself. It has been interpreted in many ways by several artists.
Somewhere over the rainbow Way up high,
There's a land that I heard of Once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star And wake up where the clouds are far
Behind me.
Behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops Away above the chimney topsThat's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow. Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly Beyond the rainbow Why, oh why can't I?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Swimming Practice at 6:00 AM
During the last days of 2008, I decided to get rid of a lot of things that are stored in the house, including those that my parents kept. My mother is very orderly and kept things well but my wife, my children and I were not as organized so purging is not very easy as I hate to just throw away things that may have some value, even for sentimental reasons that are usually not rational. One of the letters I found was dated November 23, 1965 addressed to my father.
PHOTO: Dawn Fraser 1963 by David Moore (Collection: National Portrait Gallery)
First Published on May 28 2006
Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool
This morning, I found myself reminiscing those early mornings at the Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool. I was a member of the High School Swimming Team of De La Salle College in Taft and I recall some of the members of that team included Noel Tolentino, Nick Gregorius, Manuel Lopez, Benjie Sandejas, Mari Valles, Rene Ledesma. Our Coach was Angel Martinez and later Doroteo Algere. The Team trained together during the NCAA season at the Rizal Memorial Swimming, not at the Jacinto. After practice, we would hurry up for classes croosing that small bridge that connected La Salle to the Rizal Memorial Complex. The water in the pool was not well maintained during that time and we did not have enough time to get a good shower. Most of us suffered from ring worms and it was terrible. But somehow, we didn’t mind and exchanged notes on what is best medication.
I already smoked during that time, perhaps two to three sticks a day. Imported cigarettes were available at the Archer’s Nook across La Salle and they sold at ten centavos per stick or fifteen centavos for two sticks. Nobody bought one stick…it was custom to look for another student who would add five centavos to your ten to get two. The brands then were Salem and Marlboro. Ate Glo (not GMA nor the impersonator) was Ate to all the La Sallites. Bismarck Hadarly, a classmate and member of our high school gang discovered that smuggled cigarettes were sold at Plaza Santa Cruz. These were State Express and Peace Cigarettes in packs of ten and we found it awesome.
The effect of cigarettes showed when you swam for competition so I abstained during training season. Whenever I cheated, my timed sprints would suffer one or two seconds, even with just one cigarette. Ah, those days when one was young and healthy.
During off season, I kept in shape at Jacinto with other swimmers from different schools and the usual fare was 400 meters of warm up, 400 meters of leg work, 400 meters of arm work, 400 meters pacing (arms and legs), 50 meter sprints eight times, and 400 meters of loosening up. Some of the swimmers were Connie Paredes, Ressie and Violeta Neric, Hedy Garcia, Jean Belzer, Lulu Trinidad, Beth Dalena, Arthur Navasero, Gilbert and Melvin Marquez, Ogie Borja, I cannot recall the others, some only their last names such as Julaton, Duff, and Beltran.
PHOTO: Dawn Fraser 1963 by David Moore (Collection: National Portrait Gallery)Republic of the Philippines
City of Manila
DEPARTMEN OF SOCIAL WELFARE
November 23. 1965
City of Manila
DEPARTMEN OF SOCIAL WELFARE
November 23. 1965
Mr. Federico Cruz
Coach, FEU Swimming Team
Far Eastern University
M a n I l a
Dear Mr. Cruz:
Referring to your request to use the Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool by your swimming team, the Far Eastern University, from 6:00 a.m. to 8: a.m., everyday, except Tuesday, please be informed that permission is hereby granted.
However, inasmuch as this is not within the official working hours of the personnel of the swimming pool, you shall be held responsible for any loss or damage in the pool and its premises during that period, and you shall be responsible for the safety of your swimming team.
In this connection, you are requested to make arrangement with Mr. Romeo Ajero, Swimming Pool In-charge, regarding the use of the said pool on the aforesaid time.
Very truly yours,
(SGD) RODOLFO S. ROBLES
Social Welfare Officer
cc: Station Welfare III
Acting Chief, Acquatic Sports Sec.
Mr. R. O. Ajero
Coach, FEU Swimming Team
Far Eastern University
M a n I l a
Dear Mr. Cruz:
Referring to your request to use the Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool by your swimming team, the Far Eastern University, from 6:00 a.m. to 8: a.m., everyday, except Tuesday, please be informed that permission is hereby granted.
However, inasmuch as this is not within the official working hours of the personnel of the swimming pool, you shall be held responsible for any loss or damage in the pool and its premises during that period, and you shall be responsible for the safety of your swimming team.
In this connection, you are requested to make arrangement with Mr. Romeo Ajero, Swimming Pool In-charge, regarding the use of the said pool on the aforesaid time.
Very truly yours,
(SGD) RODOLFO S. ROBLES
Social Welfare Officer
cc: Station Welfare III
Acting Chief, Acquatic Sports Sec.
Mr. R. O. Ajero
I recall a blog entry i made about three years ago where I mentioned the Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool and drew some responses from the names mentioned there. I must admit this brings back fond memories of people some of whom I am happy to have had the acquaintance.
During those times, Australians ruled in swimming and Dawn Fraser was an icon which even my father loves to mention during training. In any case, I am somehow delighted to find out that our using the facility outside the official pool hours was sanctioned by City Hall.
First Published on May 28 2006
Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool
This morning, I found myself reminiscing those early mornings at the Jacinto Ciria Cruz Swimming Pool. I was a member of the High School Swimming Team of De La Salle College in Taft and I recall some of the members of that team included Noel Tolentino, Nick Gregorius, Manuel Lopez, Benjie Sandejas, Mari Valles, Rene Ledesma. Our Coach was Angel Martinez and later Doroteo Algere. The Team trained together during the NCAA season at the Rizal Memorial Swimming, not at the Jacinto. After practice, we would hurry up for classes croosing that small bridge that connected La Salle to the Rizal Memorial Complex. The water in the pool was not well maintained during that time and we did not have enough time to get a good shower. Most of us suffered from ring worms and it was terrible. But somehow, we didn’t mind and exchanged notes on what is best medication.
I already smoked during that time, perhaps two to three sticks a day. Imported cigarettes were available at the Archer’s Nook across La Salle and they sold at ten centavos per stick or fifteen centavos for two sticks. Nobody bought one stick…it was custom to look for another student who would add five centavos to your ten to get two. The brands then were Salem and Marlboro. Ate Glo (not GMA nor the impersonator) was Ate to all the La Sallites. Bismarck Hadarly, a classmate and member of our high school gang discovered that smuggled cigarettes were sold at Plaza Santa Cruz. These were State Express and Peace Cigarettes in packs of ten and we found it awesome.
The effect of cigarettes showed when you swam for competition so I abstained during training season. Whenever I cheated, my timed sprints would suffer one or two seconds, even with just one cigarette. Ah, those days when one was young and healthy.
During off season, I kept in shape at Jacinto with other swimmers from different schools and the usual fare was 400 meters of warm up, 400 meters of leg work, 400 meters of arm work, 400 meters pacing (arms and legs), 50 meter sprints eight times, and 400 meters of loosening up. Some of the swimmers were Connie Paredes, Ressie and Violeta Neric, Hedy Garcia, Jean Belzer, Lulu Trinidad, Beth Dalena, Arthur Navasero, Gilbert and Melvin Marquez, Ogie Borja, I cannot recall the others, some only their last names such as Julaton, Duff, and Beltran.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
The Passport Has Tire Marks
Many things have changed. My escape route from my bank to the church is no longer there, and so is my bank which moved down the road to occupy a much smaller space with the coming of unmanned teller counters. My bar tender has retired spending his pension on the horse races. No more are the original recipes of that spanish lady and in its place, we gobble spags from brances of the Old Spaghetti House or some other fast food restaurant. Let me tell you that story once again.
Gloria's
First Publlished on August 26, 2006
Once upon a time, there was a bistro along Mabini Street at Ermita owned by a Spanish lady named Gloria. It was called, you guessed it right, Gloria’s Restaurant and Bar and it specialized on, you got it again, Spanish cuisine. When the owner died, a gentleman took over the management. Romulo Cecilio, a businessman and father of the actress Dang Cecilio, took pride in his restaurant’s cooking which was faithful to the original recipes of the late Gloria.
A seasoned bar tender and one time boxer manned the bar. Mang Doming worked at Ambassador Club and at Taboy’s Cinco Litros along M. H. del Pilar Street. He tells his guests that he has served all kinds of people at the bar including a prnce later spanish king, Juan Carlos de Borbon.
Gloria’s occupied a portion of the property that belonged to the Ermita Parish. I found out that Gloria’s kitchen connects to open space behind the Nuestra Señora de Guia Church. The parish priest then was Monsignor Pedrosa, whose homilies were laced with politics.
From my bank at the corner of Ermita and Padre Faura I would hear mass using the restaurant as a shortcut. After going to noon mass at Nuestra Señora de Guia it was very convenient for me to meet people for lunch at Gloria’s. The spaghetti was good and I managed to get the recipe from the cook but too bad, I misplaced it somewhere.
Eventually, Gloria’s closed shop and the building was demolished. A four story building took its place which now houses the Metro Bank. I made many acquaintances at Gloria’s, such as businessman Tony Lo, photographer Joe Gabor, Jim Nicoll of Walem Shipping, the late Pepe Damian who had a corner of the billiard hall industry in Manila, Anthony Weinstein who organized the Manila Sports Club which for sometime, ran the idle facilities left by the defunct Army & Navy Club.
Carlos
First Publlished on September 2, 2006
There is one instance when my marriage may have ended up a disaster because of a young lad named Carlos. He must have been about eight or nine years old then, about the same age as my youngest son Martin.
My wife’s sister who lived in Calapan was planning to migrate to Canada with her whole family. One week before their first trip to Vancouver, they had to arrange travel papers in Manila so they stayed with us. My wife asked me if I could pick up the passport of Carlos, her sister’s son, at Supra Tours at Mabini Street, just across Glora’s Restaurant.
Late in the afternoon, I hurried to Ermita for the passport. As parking was a problem in Mabini, I parked at the old Robinson’s Supermarket at Padre Faura and walked to Supra Tours. I met the travel agent Claire who gave me the passport of Carlos. This I placed inside an envelope together with Claire’s business card. I placed the envelope inside a folder, went to Gloria’s for an early dinner, walked back to the parking lot at Robinson’s, and drove to Adamson University to give a lecture.
When I went home, I forgot all about the passport until my wife asked if I was able to pass for it. To my surprise, the envelope was not in the folder. I must have left it at Gloria’s, I thought, so I called. It was not there. I lost the passport and Carlos was schedule to leave in five days!
I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind was formulating a strategic plan.
Assumption One: I left it at the travel office. If I did, it should not be a problem.
Assumption Two: I dropped it pm the way to the parking lot. What if I did? What are the alternatives? It haunted me to think of the consequences. This must be one blunder that my wife will never forgive.. I did what most desperate people do. I started praying for a miracle.
Claire
First Publlished on September 7, 2006
I was at Ermita early morning on a desperate attempt to recover the passport. Parked the car at the Parking Lot and back tracked my trail the night before. My eyes were on the pavement looking for any sign of a business letter envelope. All the time, I was praying. “Dear Lord, please, please, please.” I was praying to Saint Josemaria Escriva, who at that time has neither been canonized nor beatified. That night, I must have said his prayer card a hundred times. I was looking, no… I was begging for a miracle.
A woman with a broom was sweeping the dust off the sidewalk fronting her shop. “Would you have seen an envelope that I may have dropped last night?” Negative. I asked the same question to a few other by standers, but nobody has seen my quest. I was getting nearer Mabini Street hoping it was with Claire.
I entered Supra Tours and Claire was there at her desk just after the door. She gave me a surprised look. My anxiety must have been obvious. “Did I leave the passport here yesterday.”
“No, you placed it in the envelope and in your folder,” says Claire.
“Yeah, I know. I lost it,” I said “How long will it take to get a new passport? I’m willing to spend what it takes.”
Claire counted days with her fingers “There’s not enough time. At least a week if we’re lucky.”
It was less than two minutes after I reached Supra Tours when the telephone phone rang. Claire answers “Hello. Yes sir. Yes. Yes sir.”
There was a smile on her face. Did someone find the passport? I was trying to be an optimist. Claire was looking at me but I cannot make heads or tails what that look meant. “Monsignor Escriva. Please, please, please.”
Someone found it and it’s him calling. I can’t believe it. I talked to the man. Yes, he found it at the parking lot. Good thing Claire’s business card was inside. I asked for his telephone number and address. It was somewhere in Tondo.
Anthony
First Publlished on September 12, 2006
I went home from Supra Tours very excited, told my wife that someone has found the passport. I brought Carlos along with me to Tondo. The address the man gave was Abad Santos. If my memory serves me right, his name was Anthony, but I am not too sure.
It was one of those buildings that looked funny. It sat on a lot that was about 50 square meters and Anthony lived at the fourth floor. He sat behind a narra office table, wore a red sleeveless shirt. The guy was stocky and had curly hair and wore a ring on one ear. It was not too fashionable for men to wear earrings then, and the same goes for tattoos, which Anthony sported on both arms. I would not have been surprised if he demanded ransom for the passport, but he didn’t. How wrong you can when you judge people by the way they look. So I introduced Carlos as the owner of the passport and Anthony greeted him warmly, invited us to take a seat and was all smiles. Anthony seemed to be pleased with the situation, a feeling that I gladly shared.
“I saw the business card and decided to call Claire” says Anthony. He brought the envelope out with Claire’s card and the passport inside and continued to explain how he stumbled upon the envelope. “My girlfriend and I went to see a movie at Robinson’s last night. After the movie, we went to my car at the parking lot and she saw the envelope. She tried to get it, thinking it contains money but the tire was stepping on it. I had to move the car to free the envelope and she saw your passport inside,” Anthony told Carlos.
I looked at the passport and saw the tire mark pressed on the cover. I explained that Carlos was leaving in a few days and that his returning the passport was a great favor. I asked Anthony how much I owe him but he declined to accept any payment. I offered him a five-hundred peso bill and persuaded him to accept and buy anything that will remind him of Carlos. Reluctantly, Anthony got the money and called his assistant to buy a bottle of Fundador. I remembered Monsignor Escriva, “el Fundador del Opus Dei” to whom I owe this favor. I gave Anthony a prayer card and invited him to join us in a little going away party at my house that night.
Anthony came to the party and met the family of Carlos. After that, I had the pleasure of inviting Anthony to Gloria’s a few times. I learned more about this fellow. He said he was a businessman, dealing with spare parts for machineries used in mines and other industries. He admits that his business deals are far from being honest. He admits he is bad, really bad. I still think that Anthony is not the kind who will bother returning lost things, but I could be wrong. At least, this time I was.
Gloria'sFirst Publlished on August 26, 2006
Once upon a time, there was a bistro along Mabini Street at Ermita owned by a Spanish lady named Gloria. It was called, you guessed it right, Gloria’s Restaurant and Bar and it specialized on, you got it again, Spanish cuisine. When the owner died, a gentleman took over the management. Romulo Cecilio, a businessman and father of the actress Dang Cecilio, took pride in his restaurant’s cooking which was faithful to the original recipes of the late Gloria.
A seasoned bar tender and one time boxer manned the bar. Mang Doming worked at Ambassador Club and at Taboy’s Cinco Litros along M. H. del Pilar Street. He tells his guests that he has served all kinds of people at the bar including a prnce later spanish king, Juan Carlos de Borbon.
Gloria’s occupied a portion of the property that belonged to the Ermita Parish. I found out that Gloria’s kitchen connects to open space behind the Nuestra Señora de Guia Church. The parish priest then was Monsignor Pedrosa, whose homilies were laced with politics.
From my bank at the corner of Ermita and Padre Faura I would hear mass using the restaurant as a shortcut. After going to noon mass at Nuestra Señora de Guia it was very convenient for me to meet people for lunch at Gloria’s. The spaghetti was good and I managed to get the recipe from the cook but too bad, I misplaced it somewhere.
Eventually, Gloria’s closed shop and the building was demolished. A four story building took its place which now houses the Metro Bank. I made many acquaintances at Gloria’s, such as businessman Tony Lo, photographer Joe Gabor, Jim Nicoll of Walem Shipping, the late Pepe Damian who had a corner of the billiard hall industry in Manila, Anthony Weinstein who organized the Manila Sports Club which for sometime, ran the idle facilities left by the defunct Army & Navy Club.
Carlos
First Publlished on September 2, 2006
There is one instance when my marriage may have ended up a disaster because of a young lad named Carlos. He must have been about eight or nine years old then, about the same age as my youngest son Martin.
My wife’s sister who lived in Calapan was planning to migrate to Canada with her whole family. One week before their first trip to Vancouver, they had to arrange travel papers in Manila so they stayed with us. My wife asked me if I could pick up the passport of Carlos, her sister’s son, at Supra Tours at Mabini Street, just across Glora’s Restaurant.
Late in the afternoon, I hurried to Ermita for the passport. As parking was a problem in Mabini, I parked at the old Robinson’s Supermarket at Padre Faura and walked to Supra Tours. I met the travel agent Claire who gave me the passport of Carlos. This I placed inside an envelope together with Claire’s business card. I placed the envelope inside a folder, went to Gloria’s for an early dinner, walked back to the parking lot at Robinson’s, and drove to Adamson University to give a lecture.
When I went home, I forgot all about the passport until my wife asked if I was able to pass for it. To my surprise, the envelope was not in the folder. I must have left it at Gloria’s, I thought, so I called. It was not there. I lost the passport and Carlos was schedule to leave in five days!
I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind was formulating a strategic plan.
Assumption One: I left it at the travel office. If I did, it should not be a problem.
Assumption Two: I dropped it pm the way to the parking lot. What if I did? What are the alternatives? It haunted me to think of the consequences. This must be one blunder that my wife will never forgive.. I did what most desperate people do. I started praying for a miracle.
Claire
First Publlished on September 7, 2006
I was at Ermita early morning on a desperate attempt to recover the passport. Parked the car at the Parking Lot and back tracked my trail the night before. My eyes were on the pavement looking for any sign of a business letter envelope. All the time, I was praying. “Dear Lord, please, please, please.” I was praying to Saint Josemaria Escriva, who at that time has neither been canonized nor beatified. That night, I must have said his prayer card a hundred times. I was looking, no… I was begging for a miracle.
A woman with a broom was sweeping the dust off the sidewalk fronting her shop. “Would you have seen an envelope that I may have dropped last night?” Negative. I asked the same question to a few other by standers, but nobody has seen my quest. I was getting nearer Mabini Street hoping it was with Claire.
I entered Supra Tours and Claire was there at her desk just after the door. She gave me a surprised look. My anxiety must have been obvious. “Did I leave the passport here yesterday.”
“No, you placed it in the envelope and in your folder,” says Claire.
“Yeah, I know. I lost it,” I said “How long will it take to get a new passport? I’m willing to spend what it takes.”
Claire counted days with her fingers “There’s not enough time. At least a week if we’re lucky.”
It was less than two minutes after I reached Supra Tours when the telephone phone rang. Claire answers “Hello. Yes sir. Yes. Yes sir.”
There was a smile on her face. Did someone find the passport? I was trying to be an optimist. Claire was looking at me but I cannot make heads or tails what that look meant. “Monsignor Escriva. Please, please, please.”
Someone found it and it’s him calling. I can’t believe it. I talked to the man. Yes, he found it at the parking lot. Good thing Claire’s business card was inside. I asked for his telephone number and address. It was somewhere in Tondo.
Anthony
First Publlished on September 12, 2006
I went home from Supra Tours very excited, told my wife that someone has found the passport. I brought Carlos along with me to Tondo. The address the man gave was Abad Santos. If my memory serves me right, his name was Anthony, but I am not too sure.
It was one of those buildings that looked funny. It sat on a lot that was about 50 square meters and Anthony lived at the fourth floor. He sat behind a narra office table, wore a red sleeveless shirt. The guy was stocky and had curly hair and wore a ring on one ear. It was not too fashionable for men to wear earrings then, and the same goes for tattoos, which Anthony sported on both arms. I would not have been surprised if he demanded ransom for the passport, but he didn’t. How wrong you can when you judge people by the way they look. So I introduced Carlos as the owner of the passport and Anthony greeted him warmly, invited us to take a seat and was all smiles. Anthony seemed to be pleased with the situation, a feeling that I gladly shared.
“I saw the business card and decided to call Claire” says Anthony. He brought the envelope out with Claire’s card and the passport inside and continued to explain how he stumbled upon the envelope. “My girlfriend and I went to see a movie at Robinson’s last night. After the movie, we went to my car at the parking lot and she saw the envelope. She tried to get it, thinking it contains money but the tire was stepping on it. I had to move the car to free the envelope and she saw your passport inside,” Anthony told Carlos.
I looked at the passport and saw the tire mark pressed on the cover. I explained that Carlos was leaving in a few days and that his returning the passport was a great favor. I asked Anthony how much I owe him but he declined to accept any payment. I offered him a five-hundred peso bill and persuaded him to accept and buy anything that will remind him of Carlos. Reluctantly, Anthony got the money and called his assistant to buy a bottle of Fundador. I remembered Monsignor Escriva, “el Fundador del Opus Dei” to whom I owe this favor. I gave Anthony a prayer card and invited him to join us in a little going away party at my house that night.
Anthony came to the party and met the family of Carlos. After that, I had the pleasure of inviting Anthony to Gloria’s a few times. I learned more about this fellow. He said he was a businessman, dealing with spare parts for machineries used in mines and other industries. He admits that his business deals are far from being honest. He admits he is bad, really bad. I still think that Anthony is not the kind who will bother returning lost things, but I could be wrong. At least, this time I was.
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My Father's Barber Shop
