Mr. Butch
Mr. Butch is dead.
Mr. Butch was an integral part of my first year in Boston. I worked at Planet Records in Kenmore Square. We had a coffee can which was his "bank" on the counter. We held his Sunday's beer in the fridge on Saturdays, so he could pick it up on the Lord's day in spite of the blue laws. We could loan him money, up to five dollars, and he'd pay us back; we could also borrow money from Mr. Butch, up to five dollars, and pay him back. Once he told me I was "SO beautiful -- daaaaamn!" Often he played his wooden flute or recorder in front of the store, but on a less harmonious day I saw him screaming invectives against the American educational system at a group of elementary school children, as they wandered past on some tour.
Bless you, Mr. Butch, on your way. At least you went out in style.
Mr. Butch was an integral part of my first year in Boston. I worked at Planet Records in Kenmore Square. We had a coffee can which was his "bank" on the counter. We held his Sunday's beer in the fridge on Saturdays, so he could pick it up on the Lord's day in spite of the blue laws. We could loan him money, up to five dollars, and he'd pay us back; we could also borrow money from Mr. Butch, up to five dollars, and pay him back. Once he told me I was "SO beautiful -- daaaaamn!" Often he played his wooden flute or recorder in front of the store, but on a less harmonious day I saw him screaming invectives against the American educational system at a group of elementary school children, as they wandered past on some tour.
Bless you, Mr. Butch, on your way. At least you went out in style.