James, everyone I talk to in town about you, they love you to death! You're a very special person.

What the f***? I totally don't get it. I don't get it.
Towns don't love me. People don't love me, they never have. That's not a complaint. Just a fact.

The only large group I have ever known of that loved me, cared about me, was the workers in a factory of Utah, I spent six months re-engineering their company and getting them their first raise and many many years. They had tears in their eyes when I parted ways.

These words just now from one of the fellows on the road crew that I met about six weeks ago, maybe less, when I ask some fellows about the work they were doing clearing the huge Switchback by the portal. One of their projects was exploding and clearing a 200000 lb Boulder that it come down across the road.

A Hispanic guy. So kind, warm, jovial, enthusiastic. Probably a little younger than me.
Makes my head spin.

Are you warm enough? Do you need a heavier jacket?

I'm sitting here working in this magnificence, gray though it may be and cold. He beeped going up the hill and then stop this truck to give me this bag of Cracker Jack and I gave him a hug. And then he was on his way. I'll stop next time I see you, he said!