517. MY MR. SAWTOOTH

MY MR. SAWTOOTH
One seemingly forthright Sawtooth Titus, a grand
old man I knew from 17th Street, wore a heritage
like a halo for me. He was from the 'Revolutionary
Titus's - of Grand Falls, Maine' and claimed his
family had settled there in the 1600's. He never
ate meat and yet took the cake, as far as I
was ever concerned, at never batting an eyelash
if something was free. 'Meat, fish or fowl, I'll
go by the price, thank ye.' That's all he'd say.
like you were supposed to understand.
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He'd walk the street and - seeming to know everyone -
never come home empty handed. Pastry, pudding,
soup or gruel, he'd manage to get something.
Introducing me often as his 'Nephew Aurelius',
he'd never flinch at adding me in for his take.
'I figg'er, the more they'd see us together, they
more they'd think our needs.' I gleefully
acted as 'Aurelius' for near one year.
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The Baxters of Merian, and the Sawtooths
of Grand Falls. Some durable duo betting
on a lifelong feud or an anxiety over something.
They never met, that I knew of, but he
sure talked of them a lot. I'd say 'but this
is New York, now who cares and why?'
He'd laugh and rear back his head, and
just say 'someday you'll see, my boy,
someday you'll see for sure.'
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Mr. Sawtooth Titus sure could endure.