that river is low…very low, the old man said as we drove the Ford over a bridge heading somewhere…nowhere in particular…

we had any rain?…I mean a good rain…the kind that leaves a mark, he mumbled…hating being the passenger…remembering when he was behind the wheel…

didn’t think so…I’m talkin’ for the month…not summer…I guess we need it, kept looking out the window at the old houses…the abandoned homes…where families once lived…kids were raised…

boy…this neighborhood’s gone to hell in a handbasket, a loud clearing of the throat…a handkerchief taken out, Coloreds moved in…no-one gives a shit..
damn shame…you listenin’ ?…

I hear you pop…I hear…

hope we get some rain…that river sure is low…you see how low that river is…uh?…

I see dad…yea…I see…

just not on Labor Day though…I hope Monday’s nice…nice for a final picnic ‘fore the kids go back to school and all…

dad…Monday’s the 4th of July…

you see how low that river’s gotten?..not a decent rain all summer..

right…that’s right dad…