A chat with Jerry Leon

Jerry Leon's teeth rotted out when he couldn't brush them after the storm. Ask him and he'll tell you. He doesn't mind, though. Jerry Leon's 71 now so teeth aren't as important as they used to be, and besides, he's had plenty of trouble to cut those teeth on. Like that time he was working for the steamship company out of California, working his way from waiter to cook (hand raised just so to show the perfect balancing technique of a man accustomed to carrying a tray full of drinks on a creaking ship), and, when he came home after a long trip, walked into his house only to find that his wife had moved without telling him, and then, boy howdy, did Jerry Leon have some explaining to do to the new husband of the home.

There's a restaurant you should visit, says Jerry Leon. It's by the African clothes store. Are those your real teeth, he asks? They're so straight and shiny. 

No, I can't tell you the name of the restaurant or the street it's on, continues Jerry Leon. You see, it's because old  Jerry can't read. But he's made it through just fine so far, he knows how to read other signs. 

What signs would those be? 

You have a glow about you, says Jerry, so I'll tell you. I'm old and I have to tell what I know to people who want to hear. 

Think clear thoughts when you cross this river, girl. Because if you dream of muddy water, bad luck is coming your way. 

I'm a little in love with Jerry Leon by the time  the boat docks and I watch him as he slowly makes his way off the boat. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other soon.