The King of Henry Ave.

Perhaps you've seen the king on your street.
All streets have one.
Ours is John.
Greek, tall, and a cigar smoker; he gallantly strides the neighborhood, cane in hand.

John is also a very kind man.
He plays cards on his porch with his older sons.
In fact, the king gave us a loveseat a while ago that is very comfortable.
He has two peach trees by his porch.

Several weeks ago, John gave Dad a few peaches.
Oh man. They were tasty.
They hit the spot like John Kruk on a good day.
We ate them all.

To our surprise, the king then gave us Greek Sausage one day as we climbed out of our car after parking.
It was intense, but good. (I didn't get that much... something about my intestines and gas..)

But to really get to the kicker, I have to tell you that mom decided to say thank you for the sausage by giving the king some cookies.
They were Chocolate crinkle cookies.

And this is when I tell you the most amazing thing:
Dad and I went over one day when John was on his porch to give him the cookies. At first he said he shouldn't take them, but Dad insisted. (We think Mrs. King may have an opinion on Mr. King's sugar intake). But John DID take the cookies and then the most amazing thing happened: John said "Hold on!" and went inside his house. A moment later he came out of the house holding a pack of three new boxers (underwear for older boys). He gave them to Dad. They have stripes and spots and elastic linings.

So now we sit on our in boxer shorts, eating peaches and Greek sausages, on our tan loveseat.

May you find your neighborhood king and may you enjoy the richness of friendship with that person to the extent that they give you underwear.