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He was sitting outside his home on a tiny patio, wearing a fedora and smoking a cigar.

He had a portable music player sitting beside him, and he looked as if he was enjoying the September sunshine about as much as anyone could.

“Good afternoon!” I said as I passed.

“Good afternoon!” he agreed.

I don’t smoke, but I like the smell of cigars. My grandpa smoked a cigar occasionally, and the smell of cigar smoke reminds me of my childhood. In fact, all of September reminds me of childhood.

I see yellow buses carrying kids to school and wonder how it is possible that school buses l...