:03:03
It was the October of my 12th year
when the seller of lightning rods
:03:07
came along the road
toward Green Town, Illinois,
:03:10
sneaking glances over his shoulder.
:03:13
Somewhere not far back
was a terrible storm.
:03:17
Even now,
on those special autumn days,
:03:20
when the air smells like smoke
:03:22
and the twilights
are orange and ash gray,
:03:26
my mind goes back to Green Town,
:03:28
the place where I grew up.
:03:30
In my memory,
I'm back on Main Street again,
:03:33
among the neighbors
who gave me my first glimpses
:03:36
into the fearful needs
of the human heart.
:03:40
The cigar store
was owned by Mr. Tetley,
:03:43
a man obsessed with money.
:03:44
Morning, Mr, Crosetti,
:03:47
Mr. Crosetti, our barber,
cut my hair a thousand times,
:03:50
always talking about faraway ladies
he would never know.
:03:55
I remember Ed the barman,
:03:57
yesterday's football hero,
:03:59
still haunted by 40-yard runs
down the dark fields of his dreams.
:04:06
Our teacher was Miss Foley.
:04:08
We couldn't believe it, but folks said
that once, before we were even born,
:04:12
she had been
the most beautiful woman in town.
:04:22
And of course,
I can still see Jim Nightshade,
:04:25
my best friend,
my blood brother, my shadow.
:04:45
- Finished?
- Yes, Miss Foley,
:04:48
- Then you may leave,
- Thank you, Miss Foley,
:04:51
Quietly,
:04:53
And let this be a lesson to both of you:
:04:55
I will not have whispering,