I was born in small town

On Saturday, I went up north with my mom to help clean out the lake house before winter. On the way there, we passed Onamia, and my mom told me a story.

One of my dad’s friends, Kenny, is from Onamia, and he used to drive to Princeton every day to get to work.

One morning, he sees a naked man in middle of the highway, on the grassy area that divides the lanes. Kenny stops to see if the man needs help, thinking that maybe he was robbed and beaten up and then stranded, naked.

He pulls up to the man and says “Hey buddy, is everything okay?” and the man says “Yeah, but I need a ride to Princeton,” and Kenny says “alright” since he was going that way.

On the way, Kenny asks the man what happened to his clothes, and the man says “Oh, the devil was chasing me, so I took off all my clothes so he wouldn’t recognize me.”

Kenny drops the guy off in Princeton. That morning, my mom was at work and just happened to be near the front window of the store she worked at, and sees a man running down the street (still naked). When my dad came home from work that day, first thing he says is “Oh man, today Kenny picked up Rick, and he was naked!” and my mom says, “Yeah, I saw him running down the street!” Turns out the naked guy was a guy they knew (small town) and poor guy has some mental issues.

This, my friends, is the kind of stuff I missed out on since we moved away from Princeton when I was five.