Over the past many years, I've probably spent more money in this place than anywhere in town. From filling up with gas, to their cheap car washes - from buying those (former) daily pack of smokes, along with an occasional Pay Day candy bar - there's just about everything offered up, that one would need to survive. And there, on most days, there's a guy there working who I've gotten to know - and when he can smile, we briefly chat.
Pat is his name, originally from Chicago, though most of his adult life he had worked hard in the oil fields of North Dakota. A tough road eventually led him to Sarasota in 2005 - and while here, he began his slow recovery, his sobriety at our local "Sally" (our Salvation Army).
Lately, it's become much more difficult for either of us to have that brief conversation or even visually, to find each other. So I guess, my so called convenience store has now become far less convenient - by adding more and more, and way too much more.
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