Every Little Crook and Nanny [antikvár]

It was a gorgeous Wednesday in August, of which there had not been too many in New York this summer. It reminded Benny Napkins of the good old days in Chicago, back in the sixties, when he had been in the garbage and linen profession. Not the winters in Chicago, no, because to tell the truth those had not been so pleasant, having to hang onto ropes tied to oflBce buildings to keep from getting blown oflF Michigan Avenue, who needed that kind of breeziness? But he could recall Chicago summer days that inspired a man to poesy, mild summer zephyrs wafting in off the lake, guitars strumming, broads parading. Still, what good did it do to reminisce? Bygone days were bygone days. Linger on memories of summers past, and a person could miss the beauty of a truly magnificent August day that was actually here and now, the sky the color of Jeanette Kay's eyes, the trees in splendid emerald leaf awaiting the onslaught of fall.He looked at the expectant trees through the vdndshield of the red Volkswagen. I think that I shall never see, he recited silently and completely from memory, a poem lovely3