Sherlock in the morning

Park Street, Newburgh, New York, looking east at the Hudson River and the Newburgh-Beacon Bridge. This morning. 8:45. Monday, December 8, 2014.

When I was pulled over at the side of the road, leaning out the car window to take this photo, a man came jogging up the street and passed me on the driver’s side. When he saw he was in my way, he apologized. He was about 70, trim, with thin but neatly combed short gray hair that stayed flat to his head while he ran. His face was weathered but youthful and handsome, his long jawline firm. He was wearing a gray t-shirt over a blue sweatshirt and dark gray tights. As soon as I saw him I thought, “Military. Retired. High ranking officer. General maybe.” I thought I was just judging by his face and the way he carried himself. A Sherlock Holmes moment on my part, I thought. Pulling off the stunt Holmes and his brother Mycroft pull off looking out the window of the Diogenes Club  in The Greek Interpreter. West Point’s just down the river. Maybe he taught there, commuting from here. Then I read his t-shirt and realized I’d probably noticed it and registered it subliminally as he was running up and that was why I thought what I thought.

ARMY, it said.

Comments

[the blonde]

My God, Watson! You see, but you do not observe.

[El Jefe]

The Blonde,

:-)

But he has the remarkable gift of encouraging it in others.