It was a dark and stormy night back in early December, as I watched “Jeopardy!” on the television. I was doing OK, but what do I know about ancient Greek mythology or classical music?

A knock at the front door surprised me. I ran my fingers through my hair to seem presentable and looked out through the glass pane. Standing on the porch with shy smiles were two of my young neighbours from down the street, Marty and Ty Sherlock.

It wasn’t Halloween, so what were they up to? I opened the door.

“Mr. Robinson, we were at a garage sale this morning and this great Canadiens sweater was for sale. It was jumping off the table and we had to buy it for you.” 

They handed it to me. It is a really nice red and blue wool sweater, not a hockey sweater. The CH logo on the front is big and brilliant.

“You have always had fun watching us play road hockey and skating on Lansdowne pond last winter. Playing hockey outside was so much fun.”

 “We know you love the Canadiens, so we want you to have it.”

I was, quite frankly, speechless. 

I mumbled my appreciation, and within a few minutes, my eyes were damp as I reflected on the purity of thought, the generosity, yes, the neighbourhood love.

Truly a special moment in my life.