• I first saw him in Hibbing, Minnesota. Its a town known for a hole, that and Bob Dylan used

    to live there. Yes, Hibbing is a mining town, and as sorry as I am to say it, its a very boring

    place, and I'm sure everyone living there agrees. He had the most beautiful hazel eyes, that

    shone with knowledge. When you looked into them, you could see something more,

    something mysterious there, and if you ever tried to explore what was there, those beautiful

    eyes would flash dangerously as if warning you to keep out. They say the eyes are the

    window to a persons soul and I truly believe that. It had been a few days since I got there,

    when I first met him. He was sitting on a bench next to a fountain plucking at an acoustic

    that looked like it had been salvaged from a dumpster. Knowing him, it probably was. He

    also had this way about him that was....slow. As the world passed him by day by day he

    would sit and watch, smiling and looking on with mild interest. His soft brown hair was

    never flat, and it was always in a dissarayed mess like he never even bothered with it. As I

    sit here, an old woman with gray hair and as many wrinkles as an old lady can have, I tell

    you my story. A story of sadness and pain, a story of happiness and love. I tell you my story,

    because soon I fear I will not live to tell anyone else the burden I have carried for 60 years.