My Uncle Jim did not appear to be much for words. Nor, was he ever seen to have friends or pets. We thought he was the primordial loner, until one time we caught him with his ant farm.

He loved the creatures. He knew more about ants than I knew about the streets in our little town, and he loved to talk about them. Indeed, it was a deep and private affair, and we admired him for it.

One day tragedy hit in the form of a very high wind. It blew the top off the ant farm and his creatures were gone. Practically in tears, he called me on the phone.

When I asked what was wrong, he replied,

"The ants are my friends. They're blowing in the wind. The ants are blowing in the wind!