SPRUNG FOR A LAST OUTING

Carolyn, thanks for remembering Raz. I will have to admit that I've had a harder time "moving on" so to speak, than I thought I would. I really miss picking up the phone and calling him. It was a weekly ritual. Plus, I am so grateful that I said goodbye and, of course, I stopped by briefly and you fed us which was great as usual.  I probably related thisl story when we were there: about the second day, Raz seemed to rally a bit and so Kathryn and I decided to take him for a drive. I got him in his wheelchair, brought the car around and got him in it. He really had had a big day, all the brothers showed up and we went to the fine dining of Waffle House. He really ate heartily: country ham, grits, etc. We laughed and told the same stories we always do. A good time. So, after a nap, Kathy and Raz and myself took off. Later on, we discovered, we were fugitives. We hadn't signed him out or anything. We decided to go for Smithfield Barbecue and I'm on the way to Fayetteville, I think. The next thing I know, Kathy, who has no sense of direction, tells me we are headed to Hope Mills. What! I do know we are way out in the country. We wander around for awhile. Laughing all the time about "touring the countryside" while looking for a barbecue sandwich.   With something akin to a miracle, we see a sign for 401. We head in that direction. Finally, after about what seems like  hours, we end up at the Cultural Center of Hoke and Cumberland County: Walmart. Low and behold, there is Smithfield Barbecue. We pull in, get a barbecue, with all the cholesterol clogging good stuff. We have a feast and Raz eats it all. We jump on 401 and head back to Raeford, still not knowing we are fugitives. Just inside what I guess are the City Limits, a policeman pulls us over. He looks in the car. Kathy is in panic mode. I'm thinking, "give me the ticket so I can get Raz on back to his present abode, Open Arms, this nice skilled nursing facility. The cop takes my license. Goes back to his car and I guess checks it. Comes back and says something like, "I don't know how you do it in California but here in North Carolina, we obey the law." I figure at this point the better course of valor is to say nothing. Finally he says, "You be careful and watch your speed."  "I will. Thank you very much." (In fact, as an aside, having spent a night at the Days Inn where I heard sirens all night. My thought: Brooklyn doesn't have that much police activity).  Anyway, we get back and people run out to greet us in a panic. They have been looking everywhere for us and have called his son and are within milliseconds of  calling the police. Well, we had temporarily sprung Raz. We thought it was funny. Nobody else was laughing. {{{{{{{Jerry}}}}}}