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of life as he possibly can, and obviously accomplishes this whether he
is working behind a bar or stroking a cue stick. He possesses no for-
mal or complex philosophy, but a sensitive spirit endowed with per-
petual good humor and a profound understanding of people.

After we had eaten, we returned to his tavern and he asked me if
I would like to shoot pool with him before his customers began to
arrive. I naturally consented. He then walked to a locked cabinet in
the corner of the room and produced a beautifully carved cue stick,
which he asked me if I would like to use. I played, but not well, for
my only consideration was the care of that stick.

In the two years that I have known Fry, he has never failed to
shout a congenial greeting at me as I entered the door. If he is not
busy, we will talk for hours, while he slowly and methodically polishes
glasses and lines them up in their rack. How he balances his books
is the eternal mystery, for I find I always leave with much change in
my hand. If he deals with other customers as he does with me, his
billiard room must represent a total financial loss, for he has always
refused any payment for the use I have given his tables.

I first visited Fry's on the recommendation of a friend and know
nothing about his background or past life. This may be strange in
view of the many hours we have talked together, but it seems insignifi-
cant each time I sit down with him.

IMAGERY

As from the surface of a pond I see
Reflected back in thin transparency
The image of my surface form,
So from the liquid tree
Comes floating back to me
In divine sublety
The image of my soul.

MARY HENDREN

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