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Strawberry Man

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There are images and sounds and people that stay with you that seem to never fade. Sometimes they’re all three. Each facet leaves a memory. And so it was with the Strawberry Man.

I was a kid in the Portland neighborhood of Louisville. “Straaawwwberries…STRAWBERRY!” I can still hear him. His voice high and clear. The red shirt, sleeves role up and carrying plump red fruit like jewels on a tray ready for choosing. I was five and he was larger than any human being that had ever been born. And this is how he will remain.