By Maik Strosahl
I was four when we moved into the house my parents still live in, and very shy. As I explored the new backyard, never straying far from the sidewalk, I noticed a tall man walking on the other side of the grape vine, from the neighbor’s garage up to that green house.
“What do you know, Flanagan*?” he asked as he noticed me watching him. That was enough to get me running back inside.
By Maik Strosahl
I thought I would do a tribute to Moristotle’s “Goines On” series. I don’t know where he got the name Goines from (I didn’t find it in the ones I went back and read), but Flanagan is the name the old man called me who was my neighbor when I was six and was watching him work on his lawn mower. He taught me many things as I grew and I don’t think he ever called me Maik. I never had a chance to tell him thank you.
