It seemed that everywhere I would go, the boy would find himself there as well.  I often wondered if he was without family, and perhaps lived at the orphanage nearby.  Every time I had seen him, he had been alone, but I do not believe an institution as respected as the Merrick Home for Children would allow those under their care to simply run about town as they pleased.  My inclinations began to veer more and more towards a rich parentage who, for whatever reason, simply did not pay attention to their offspring.

    I had gone into town to purchase the new offering from Dr. Frederick Treves.  It concentrated on the work he had done with some of his exceptional patients, and had been hailed as the most engaging literary offering in quite some time.  Before taking myself back to my favorite reading chair, I decided to control my excitement and purchase the rest of the goods which I knew to be on my list at home.  This mainly consisted of a trip to the grocer’s.  It was on my way home from there that he happened along my trail.
    
    “Hi!”
    “Well, hello lad.  And what is your name today?”
    “Ig-natius,” he said with a puzzled look,  “same as it always is.”  

    This time he was not alone.  Alongside him was an older man, perhaps around 70, but appearing in fair and amiable condition.  His gray hair and mustache carried an air of distinction, which contrasted with the simple tan cardigan he wore to keep his bones warm on this summer afternoon.  

    Without any introduction or acknowledgement from himself or the boy, the gentleman turned to me, smiled, and said “That’s a great hat!’’ Nodding to himself in approval of what he had just said, he concluded his thought, “looks good on you.”  I thanked him for the compliment, corrected him in that the praise should go to my friend who had given said hat to me, and continued on my path home, with them now as apparent companions for the trip.

    Noticing my armful, the gentleman struck up a conversation with the obvious, “I see you have been to the grocer’s…”
    Courteously, I answered, “Indeed I have.  This seemed a lovely day for the exercise.”  I attempted to show him the possession I was most excited for, but he appeared wholly uninterested.  His attention had become fully focused on my consumable goods, especially the bottle of Canadian Club.
    “You must be sure to date them!”
    Taken aback, I thought perhaps I had misheard him -  “Pardon me?”
    “Date them, you must date them - so that you know when you have purchased them and how long they have lasted for…Oh, and the price!  You should always put that on as well.”
    While I believe my face had retained the same appearance of common pleasantry, my mind attempted to slow down and push aside the coarse words which came into it.  I noticed my step had gained in speed.  Ignatius seemed to observe this as well (he is rather perceptive for a young one), and brushed off the gentleman, saying, “Oh, don’t worry about him, he dates everything - hey, when did we meet?”
    The man proceeded to pull a small brown leather book from his right cardigan pocket.  It appeared to be older than the man himself.  Quickly leafing through the series of dog-eared pages, he declared, “June the fifth, seven years ago.”  The man’s face was one who was sure of himself.
    The boy smirked, “See? He keeps track of every date.”
    I was perplexed, and queried, “Come old boy, what purpose does this serve you?”

    The gentleman stopped, and the two of us followed his lead.  His eyes met mine and showed me the seriousness of the remark I had just thrown off.
    He began, “ To what purpose?  My good man, the concept of time is man’s greatest creation and I will use it to the full extent of my powers!  It lets us know who we are, where we have been, and how much longer we have to go on.  I ask you this, on what else other than time does everyone in the world agree on? Nothing.  To make friends with time is to exist, to be recorded, and remembered.”
    The look on his face was one rarely seen - I imagine it was much like Baum’s when he would awake in the middle of the night to write on his walls.
    The gentleman continued, “Would you really desire to exist without dates?  Without time?  Numbers are magical creations.  They are grounding, solidifying, satisfying.  Without them I don’t know if I would ever have existed. They can be counted on, they are unchanging, and infinite.  Thus, sir, I implore you, for your own sake, to date your newly acquired groceries when you arrive home.  I assure you, the benefits will be innumerable.”
    
    Somewhere during the middle of the man’s proclamations we had apparently began walking again, for it was at this point in time that I had come to where my path home veered off the main to the right, and they straight ahead.  The man smiled, shook my hand, and said, “I really do love that hat!”  The boy told me to wish “gray-ee” well.  With that I bid them good day.


    Placing the book beside my favorite chair, I had unpacked my groceries onto the kitchen table.  The sound of the felt tip across the masking tape seemed to echo through my home, “June 24...June 24...June 24...”