Hobo post

Life is agreeable on Lone Lake (evident here in the satellite view, though wierdly not on the map), providing the perfect 48-hour escape for our Labor Dayz. I could go on about the superb weather, the pristine setting, the congenial disposition of our hosts—three and a half generations of them. But I couldn’t prattle long without talking about the hoboes.

For no real reason, hoboes became the weekend’s guests of honor. It began with our recollection of the song “Hobo,” which we’d heard in a version by Linda Ronstadt, though she apparently had a much bigger hit with this hobo song. And that’s the thing: you don’t have to look far to find a whole universe of hobo history, music and cultural representation out there to laugh about. Ours was limited to jokes about the lake’s native Sea Hoboes and their nemeses the Land Pirates. But as soon as we’d drop the topic, they’d pop up again: on the radio, on the grocery bag

For Chrissakes, there are hoboes swarming around McCain’s VP pick.

Listen: 700 hobo names by John Hodgeman.

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