One of my fondest Jim stories is about a slice of apple pie.
I was out going from house to house collecting money on an early fall afternoon when I noticed Jims elderly neighbor turning the corner at Jims driveway and heading for the garage. He had a walking cane in one hand a foil covered dish in the other.
I naturally had to check it out. Jim and the old guy were standing at the work bench when I walked up. Jim was cutting into an apple pie with his pocketknife. He nodded at me and smiled, then shook his head as if to say I picked the right time to show up.
Of course, he offered me some pie too. I watched as they each scooped up a slice of pie with the wide part toward their palm and the pointy end near their fingers with the other hand below to catch any gooey drips.
I did my best to do the same. We three slurped it down in messy bites then went over to the garden hose to wash it down with cold water after washing our hands and faces.
Probably the best piece of pie I have eaten in my life.