Commas

Back to the Witness Protection Program man one more time. When he was transplanted here my WPP guy initially owned a pizza parlor.  He sold it and decided — or decided with the government program’s help, I don’t know — to enroll at one of the local community colleges. When I ran into him one day he confessed that he was struggling with a basic English class. “It’s the commas,” he told me in his strong Tony Soprano-esque accent. “I just don’t get ‘em.” He was a big guy and to me an intimidating presence. For some reason it seemed mildly amusing to think of this man, with his previous background, encountering issues with English 101.  He narrowed his eyes and gave me a hard look.  “I bet you do. You look like someone who understands commas.”  I caved under his stare and I admitted that yep, for the most part, I do.