The restaurant line Sunday noon was miserably long. This was the after-church crowd — a group that has grown more casual over the years. Yet, standing right in front of me was an older gentleman in a 1950s wool suit. I had no idea who he was until he turned around and said, “Hello, Ugly.”

Why it was my irascible old buddy, Eb Griper — clean-shaven and hair slicked back.

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at ©2022 by Huisman Communications.

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