Rosie's Variety

Years ago when we first moved in my friend Merrill from Arizona visited me with her seven year old son Adam. Our urban neighborhood was nothing like where he had ever lived. We had an old guy who ranted from the porch on the top floor across the street. He was rumored to be a Vietnam Vet who was probably suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Poor guy. We knew him. His name was Normand. He cackled continually shouting things we couldn't fully comprehend. My friend's son, kept awake all night, was fascinated. The next morning he told his mom he wanted to go across the street and order a sandwich from the variety store on the ground floor. They came back an hour later. They loved the place! It's a time warp in there, Adam said.