designs on the walls. One of comic-book characters. Another of sailing ships. There was a string of droopy tinsel across the front of the counter where he was sitting. Arthur had no idea how the guy stayed in business. He never seemed to have any customers, although Arthur guessed that getting a tattoo in the middle of winter probably wasn’t very popular.
As Arthur closed the door behind him, he realized he hadn’t planned out exactly what his story would be. What would he give as a reason for being there two Saturdays in a row? And how would he explain why Mr. Hampton was leaving him bizarre quotes on pieces of cardboard?
“So, what can I do for you?” Groovy Jim asked as Arthur stood awkwardly just inside the door. “You looking for Mr. Hampton again?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Arthur reached into his pocket for the scrap of cardboard, still debating what to ask. “He left me this note and I have no clue what it means.” Slowly, he read the words to Groovy Jim. “Have you ever heard that saying before?”
Groovy Jim laughed. “Sure, I’ve got the same one right here.” He tapped his finger on a piece of paper taped to his counter. “Hampton likes to hand it out a lot. Grocery guy across the street has the same quote taped on his counter too.”
Arthur stepped closer to see. It was written on an old, creased note card. Same blue pen as on his cardboard note. Same square printed letters.
“What does it mean?”
Groovy Jim shrugged. “Beats me. Hampton, he’s deep, man.”
“Deep?”
“Smart. Philosophical. Way beyond ordinary folks like you and me.” Groovy Jim leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on top of the counter. He was wearing bedroom slippers, Arthur noticed. In the middle of the day.
“See, most people don’t get the guy at all,” Groovy Jim continued. “All they see is some far-out dude going around town with a cart full of junk. They think he’s nuts. But I’m telling you, Hampton is way deeper than people realize. Trust me, he’s got a good reason for everything he says and does.”
“What reason?”
“Well, that’s a question you’ll have to ask him yourself. Can’t help you with that one, kiddo.”
Arthur couldn’t tell if Groovy Jim was avoiding the question or if he really didn’t know anything more about Mr. Hampton.
Groovy Jim tapped his finger on the note card. “Now, if you want my opinion of what the quote means, I think it is trying to say if you don’t have vision—if you don’t look deeper and see the possibilities in things—your spirit, your soul, will die.” He squinted at Arthur. “Get it?”
No, Arthur didn’t really get it—and he especially didn’t get what his spirit had to do with collecting garbage. How was he supposed to look deeper at a coffee can, for instance?
But he pretended he understood. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Thanks.”
“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for this morning.” Groovy Jim nodded and picked up a magazine from the counter. “Stay warm.”
It was only later, after Arthur left, that he realized he hadn’t actually told Groovy Jim he was looking for anything that morning.
SEVENTEEN
A fter all the talk about vision and looking deeper for things, it was ironic that the first thing Arthur spotted after he left Groovy Jim’s was a mirror.
It was leaning against some garbage cans at a house a few doors down the street. Arthur was trying to get the grocery cart to move through the slush—he’d cleared out the stuff from the week before and decided to bring the cart along just in case he needed it—when he saw the corner of something catch the reflection of a passing car. He sprinted toward the trash pile as if it might suddenly vanish.
Yes, it really was a mirror.
As Arthur tugged it out of the wet, snow-covered pile, he couldn’t believe his good luck. One corner had a long, diagonal crack, and there were a few specks of tarnish on the surface, but the rest was perfect. A slam dunk.
As Arthur closed the door behind him, he realized he hadn’t planned out exactly what his story would be. What would he give as a reason for being there two Saturdays in a row? And how would he explain why Mr. Hampton was leaving him bizarre quotes on pieces of cardboard?
“So, what can I do for you?” Groovy Jim asked as Arthur stood awkwardly just inside the door. “You looking for Mr. Hampton again?”
“Yeah, kind of.” Arthur reached into his pocket for the scrap of cardboard, still debating what to ask. “He left me this note and I have no clue what it means.” Slowly, he read the words to Groovy Jim. “Have you ever heard that saying before?”
Groovy Jim laughed. “Sure, I’ve got the same one right here.” He tapped his finger on a piece of paper taped to his counter. “Hampton likes to hand it out a lot. Grocery guy across the street has the same quote taped on his counter too.”
Arthur stepped closer to see. It was written on an old, creased note card. Same blue pen as on his cardboard note. Same square printed letters.
“What does it mean?”
Groovy Jim shrugged. “Beats me. Hampton, he’s deep, man.”
“Deep?”
“Smart. Philosophical. Way beyond ordinary folks like you and me.” Groovy Jim leaned back in his chair and rested his feet on top of the counter. He was wearing bedroom slippers, Arthur noticed. In the middle of the day.
“See, most people don’t get the guy at all,” Groovy Jim continued. “All they see is some far-out dude going around town with a cart full of junk. They think he’s nuts. But I’m telling you, Hampton is way deeper than people realize. Trust me, he’s got a good reason for everything he says and does.”
“What reason?”
“Well, that’s a question you’ll have to ask him yourself. Can’t help you with that one, kiddo.”
Arthur couldn’t tell if Groovy Jim was avoiding the question or if he really didn’t know anything more about Mr. Hampton.
Groovy Jim tapped his finger on the note card. “Now, if you want my opinion of what the quote means, I think it is trying to say if you don’t have vision—if you don’t look deeper and see the possibilities in things—your spirit, your soul, will die.” He squinted at Arthur. “Get it?”
No, Arthur didn’t really get it—and he especially didn’t get what his spirit had to do with collecting garbage. How was he supposed to look deeper at a coffee can, for instance?
But he pretended he understood. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Thanks.”
“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for this morning.” Groovy Jim nodded and picked up a magazine from the counter. “Stay warm.”
It was only later, after Arthur left, that he realized he hadn’t actually told Groovy Jim he was looking for anything that morning.
SEVENTEEN
A fter all the talk about vision and looking deeper for things, it was ironic that the first thing Arthur spotted after he left Groovy Jim’s was a mirror.
It was leaning against some garbage cans at a house a few doors down the street. Arthur was trying to get the grocery cart to move through the slush—he’d cleared out the stuff from the week before and decided to bring the cart along just in case he needed it—when he saw the corner of something catch the reflection of a passing car. He sprinted toward the trash pile as if it might suddenly vanish.
Yes, it really was a mirror.
As Arthur tugged it out of the wet, snow-covered pile, he couldn’t believe his good luck. One corner had a long, diagonal crack, and there were a few specks of tarnish on the surface, but the rest was perfect. A slam dunk.
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