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A duck tale

Letters home ...

Traveling abroad for personal, educational or professional reasons?

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The world's a big place. Bring it home with Letters Home.

Contact Colin McNickle (412-320-7836 or cmcnickle@tribweb.com).

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Thursday, Oct. 31, 2013, 8:55 p.m.
 

My wife and I were among the thousands who made the pilgrimage to Point State Park to see the Rubber Duck. We were pleased we had made the effort, despite the bad leg that she has. Friends lent us a handy wheelchair that made it all possible.

We parked in a nearby garage and I pushed her to the site. We were just amazed at the crowd streaming to and from the wharf — all sizes, all ages, all well-mannered.

A couple of times, I had difficulty getting the wheelchair over some sidewalk imperfections. Immediately, some men or teenage boys grabbed the armrests and lifted the chair over the bumps.

All they saw was a need that they could satisfy. All they cared about was that they could help us get to or from the Rubber Duck. All we could do was thank them.

While watching TV news about the Rubber Duck leaving town, I thought of a “thank you” that the duck would understand. If some similar artist would construct on the wharf a huge nest and place in it a proportionately sized yellow egg, it would sort of thank the Rubber Duck for coming and tell it that we would like another, just like it, to take its place soon.

Hank Bohl

Forest Hills

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