Leaving Sudbury

 Leaving Sudbury 

We left Sudbury mid-morning. The downtown inn Uncle Albert arranged for us served him breakfast in bed. We ate with our hosts, a petite Vietnamese woman and her very large Danish spouse. We ate very well - an old-fashioned English breakfast: soft-scrambled eggs, sausage, black pudding, bacon, mushrooms, baked beans, hash browns, grilled tomato. Then, we wandered out to look for what we could find of Sudbury’s downtown murals.

     Our wandering took us along the alley by Memorial Park, where three women in green scrubs were leaning against a rail, gossiping, laughing, smoking cigarettes. The morning methadone line was beginning to form by the door opposite them, a bent wee man dragging his blanket like Linus, a narrow, narrow woman with a patch over her left eye, a man equally narrow, like a skeleton, with a skull tattooed over half his face. In the park, an older woman with more flesh than the entire line at the door pushed her grimly determined grandson on a swing.

     We found several of the murals. Roz likes this kind of public art - by artists that are not famous and never will be but without whom, she says, great art could not exist. You cannot winnow without chaff.

The little sign by Troy Lovegates’ grandmother’s heel says the mural is by Troy Lovegates (San Francisco, CA via Ottawa). Then there is this caption: “Over tea, Troy’s grandma told stories of little men that would come and dance for you but as you clapped they tricked you. Troy Lovegates (AKA Other) is a story-teller at heart with a nomadic spirit who’s work is inspired by people he’s met on his travels around the world.”

 Uncle Albert was dressed and ready to go by the time we returned.

     “I’ve been thinking about Truth,” he said, “while you’ve been wandering.”

     “That ‘T’ sounded capital,” Roz said. Uncle Albert nodded. 
     “Does anyone believe in capital-T truth anymore?” she asked. Uncle Albert nodded. “Here’s the way I see it,” he said just as she said, “Besides fundamentalists?”

     “Yes,” he said, “fundamentalists. And for them, the more inconvenient the Truth the better, as long as it’s more inconvenient for my neighbor than myself.”

     “Isn’t that true for all of us?” I asked as I helped him into the SUV.

09.04.17

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 Yes, it does say “who’s.” For more murals, see http://uphere.com/murals/. Don’t feel left behind. The story of the journey - with interruptions by the inattentive narrator - begins here.