Vox Populi: The Legacy

The Razorbacks are playing down the street at the stadium. People are parking all up and down my street and walking down Van Buren to hang around and tailgate. I was sitting here on my porch swing reading a magazine when I noticed a Prius pulling in in front of my house.

A portly fellow with a goatee gets out. He walked around back of the car to make sure that he wasn't blocking my driveway.

"You're good!" I call out.

He stands in my yard and with his hands on his hips and a weird expression on his face.

"Do I see a Tulane shirt?" he said.

Indeed he did. "Tulane Baseball" was writ large across my chest.

" Did you go to Tulane?' he asked while walking up my front walk.

" Yeah. I went to law school there."

He looks at the ground and shakes his head ruefully.

" I couldn't get in," he volunteers. "And I was a legacy."

"I don't know how I got in," I stammer, trying to lighten the mood.

" My father graduated from there. I was a legacy. Oh well. It doesn't matter."

I don't say anything.

Finally he looks up.

"Would you like to sell programs for the Lions Club at the game this afternoon?"

" Well, thanks for asking but I am going with my brother."

" It's really a good deal. It's a lot better than selling cokes and stuff. You get in free and you get to watch the game while you are selling programs. Can't do that when you are downstairs selling cokes and stuff. "

" Sounds like a great deal indeed," I say, lying through my teeth.

He starts walking away.

"Guess I better head down," he says. " Let me know if you ever have an interest in the Lions Club. I tell everybody that." I smile and nod by way of response.

I bet he does tell everybody. But it would be hard to take him up on that invitation under the circumstances even if I were so inclined. Which I am not.

I have no earthly idea who that man was. And I get the impression that there are a whole of people that don't know him either.