St. Francis of Philadelphia

His name was Francis, and he admitted to being about 90 years old. He constantly wore either his WWII cap or a Baltimore Orioles baseball cap (my home team). He lived up the street from me and was seen outside for walks or just to see who was passing by. I walked my dog past his house everyday, and he introduced himself to us as St. Francis because all animals loved him. He was right about that! My dog, Gwyn, would drag me to his front steps, hoping that he was outside. She promptly greeted him with kisses and a wildly wagging tail. St. Francis and I chatted about weather, and his love of bowling, or whatever. I worried over his being alone in that house, but he assured me he had his children and friends looking in on him and that he was warm enough in the winter and cool enough in the summer. All of a sudden, St. Francis was no longer outside to greet us. I wondered. Then I started to see trash bags outside once a week, along with crates of miscellaneous dishes and glasses. Finally I was able to find out that he had left this world and that his family had sold the house and was getting rid of what they did not want. Is this what was left of this gentle and kind man - bags of stuff at the curb? I looked through a box of glassware and found two lovely cordial glasses and a small glass dish, all of which I have a special use for. I brought them home and gave them a good cleaning until they sparkled. If his family had only told someone in the neighborhood, there would have been a parade of folks to pay their respects, including one red-headed little dog who misses his special touch. St. Francis, may you be surrounded by dogs and cats and people who like to bowl. We do miss you.