The Hippie Who Sat Next To Me At Tony Mart's
I never caught his name, which I regret, because he gave me the best "welcome back" that I received.
Permit me some nostalgia.
In a summer in the early '70's I returned to the United States from Scotland. I went from rainy, gray skies, meat pies, wool jackets, tiny cars, and incomprehensible accents from Taysiders to the beach in south Jersey, which meant…