Folks you remember

(Note: Lucy, Joe and Spunky are well. She has lost her Blog and don't know where to find it, computer glitch, I found her on Facebook)

I remember a wayfaring man,  Dugan. He stopped by our house at least once a year. Mama provided him a place to sleep and take a bath. He sold needles and threads, and she always bought some. Mama washed and hung his clothes out to dry.
He told me he slept in the woods most of the time, and was happy when folks allowed him a place to sleep and eat.   I liked Dugan. He had a lot of tales to tell, and I am sure I sat wide eyed.
I said to daddy once, when were alone in the car, that Dugan was a bum. “No Son, Dugan is a throw back to many years ago when men made their way as ‘WAYFARERS’, the practice is most gone and you are witnessing history. Dugan is a figure of history. The ‘wayfaring man worked as he traveled, Dugan does work at farm houses, along with selling needles and pins to the ladies along the way.”
There was ‘Woolly’, or that is what daddy called him.  Woolly had a giant bushy beard and long bushy hair, he looked wild to a 6 year old. In 1949 men did not have long hair.  Anyway I was in the back seat of the  1948 Chevrolet, when Woolley got in. I squeezed as close to the other side as I could.  later dad told me Woolley was one of a group of folks in the country who called themselves ‘Israelites’, and I think Woolley was a Nasserite who did not believe in cutting his hair.
Then there was ‘Blue’. I met him in 1946, I was in the 2nd grade and he must have been in his 20’s. He was a light shade of blue. He was an avid reader and a person who studied scripture. He was a gentle person and lived about a block from the parsonage,where we lived. He attended our church.
His fingernails were a darker blue than his body, mama said it was something to do with how his heart was made, it did not process  blood properly. He was not an invalid, but he knew he would not live long, I remember his  funeral.
People I knew just in passing:

The ‘Goat Man’, I have mentioned him before. He drove a wagon pulled by 8 to 12 goats. He picked up stuff along the roads and his wagons were covered with hub caps and other junk he had found and would sell. That was along with goat’s milk. When he was passing any area where we lived, Daddy always drove us out to see, “The Goat Man”, I loved it. I wanted to live in a covered wagon and cook over a camp fire.

Some folk are hard to forget.
Nite Shipslog
PS: How did this happen? Would the Insurance man believe it?

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The Lark, lots of TV commercials about this car…