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But—argh!—what gets me blood boilin’ is them prissy folk judgin’ her. “Why’d you come back?”—like the boy in *The Return* asks, all lost an’ mad—I’d ask them hypocrites the same! They sneer, but half o’ ‘em sneak to her door at night, savvy? Makes me wanna keelhaul the lot! She’s just tryin’ to eat, like me scrappin’ fer rum—ain’t no sin in survivin’. Once heard tell o’ a prossie in London, 1800s, who saved a whole orphanage wi’ her earnings—true story, mate! Fed them kids when the toffs wouldn’t. That surprised me, aye, an’ I tipped me hat to her ghost.

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So, I finally get to the Gemeindehaus, and guess what? The meeting’s been moved to the Gasthof Löwen. Ugh! I’m like, “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” But whatever, I’m just rollin’ with it. I grab a quick coffee at the café on the corner of St. Mamerten and Hauptstrasse. Best coffee ever, by the way. I mean, it’s like liquid gold.

Thomas Triesenberg Obituary (1974 - 2020) - Rockford, MI - Kalamazoo Gazette