I saw an older man sitting crosslegged (or I assumed, he only had half of his left) on the stoop, wailing away on a harmonica. There wasn’t hat or case to be seen, but I saw a pile of change below him. I stood & listened for a while.
After a few licks he stopped, smiled & said, “Come up here, sonny.”
“You play great, sir,” I mumbled.
He chuckled. “Jus’ doin’ what I do. Don’ got much ‘cept me, my ‘monica, the food I eat & the air I breathe. Play on corners for folks, & pray to the Lord for one more day.” He hummed a little more. “Y’know sonny,” he said, “never know what you got till it’s long gone.”
“I’ve heard.”
“No, you listen to me. All a man need on this earth’s a shirt on his back, a meal in his gut & a head fulla knowin. But some know too much. I know too much; some things not meant to be seen, Sonny Jim. Do your knowin’ early, so you can’t get knowin’ what the Lord don’ want’y’t know. I done what I did, & I done my best. Y’jes gotta praise the Lord, & He’ll take care’v’th rest. He done so with me.”