I think I saw Ben Franklin at the grocery store.
Okay, okay, I know it couldn’t have been him. It’s not as if he is some immortal that just goes around shopping at large supermarkets in the desert Southwest, but it sure looked like him.
I was walking into my local Fry’s. It was a weekend and I was on a morning mission for Tasty. As I selected the finest cart I could find and turned it around to go the rest of the way into the store, I saw an older gentleman who was the absolute spitting image of the celebrated Mr. Franklin. He had a roundish face, and a bit of extra on his chin, and brown somewhat fluffy hair, swept back from a slightly receding hairline, and a fine, high brow. He even had little, round, gold spectacles of the same type I’ve seen in many a painting.
I would have thought he was from a performer’s troupe only he was wearing shorts and modern clothes. He gave me a knowing smile and little nod, and headed out of the store.
I will probably never see this guy again. He raises in me a great and terrible curiosity. If I ever do see him, I wonder if I will have the brazenness to call out “Hey, Ben?”
(And I thought my DAD looked like Franklin? This guy has him beaten all hollow.)