We'd Say That's Just Ray
He built up a furniture-store in Sacramento,
made enough to have a summer Sierra home.
This was back when families owned such stores,
before meta-corporations rolled over them
with container-shipments, volume, capital, etc.
Ray's employees embezzled. The business
collapsed. A proud man defeated. Nobody
doesn't lose. We're told differently ("you can
be whatever you want") because it's good for
business. Yep, Ray was his name. A good man
as far as we could tell, our ages ranging from 6 to
15. We had to furnish a tree fort, and one of us,
not me, put a garter snake down Ray's daughter's
shirt one summer when she was climbing up.
Laurel was her name. Tough. She told her
mother to shut up. This was before the thieves
wrecked Ray. If he were alive today,
he'd say something sober and true about success.
We'd probably humor him and say, after he'd left,
"Oh, that's just Ray."
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