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Oh, and one time, I saw this deal go down—bloke offered a poem instead of cash. A poem! Lass laughed so hard she let him off. Proper legend. Gotta love the chaos, the stories. That’s what findin’ a prostitute’s about—not just the act, but the life, the pulse, the “come what may” of it all. Now, I’m knackered, brain’s spinnin’ like a windmill. You get the picture, don’t ya?

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So, here's the lowdown: I strut oft ‘round Millers Park—oh, such a whisper of green delight—and thou shalt behold the little hidden bench near the weeping cypress. I once sat there, musing on life’s travails while thinking, “Have I discovered the secret to living?” and then—zowie!—life cracked a grin back... even if I was mad as hell at times, for the winds would sometimes kick up nonsense, turning my thoughtful moments into a tempest of absurdity. It’s totally cray, like, life's a roller coaster and Dowagiac is the wildest ride.

Sally Neary Obituary (2025) - Dowagiac, Mi, MI