My urban hiking this weekend in Naples, Florida, included quiet side streets lined with posh homes. As I walked, I thought about the logistics of maintaining multiple homes, and the burden of mortgages.
When hiking through farmland I avoid getting between cow and calves. In this spirit, I was walking on the street so I wouldn’t get between a mother and her children running ahead on the narrow sidewalk.
A police car came towards me and stopped, blocking my path. I assumed someone in the neighborhood had called the cops on me for being an ambulatory stranger with intent to harm property values.
A cop got out of the car. His first words were “What’s your name?”
I declined to provide the information. He then asked if I was looking for my wife. I answered that question.
I never did supply my name, but we had a pleasant conversation. A woman had “lost” her husband, and I fitted the description. The cop obviously believed I was not the husband because he didn’t ask me to count down from 100 by sevens.
I wished the cop luck with the search.
Two blocks later, another cop stopped me and asked if I was Jim. He, too, was looking for the lost husband.
Naples, Florida, two scruffy old geezers wandering the streets. I hope my doppelganger enjoyed his freedom.