For all the years I’ve been walking most mornings in McKinley Park, I could count on finding David and Vi Gair there ahead of me, feeding the ducks and geese from copious supplies of breadstuffs they had gathered from various sources.

David, a Scot and veteran of Britain’s armed forces during World War II, referred to Vi as “the wartime souvenir I brought back from Germany.”And when David decided to serenade a passerby with a Scottish ballad, Vi would try to look embarrassed although one knew she was pleased, the song being for her as well.

While McKinley’s avian populations will gladly accept food from anyone, they actually waited each morning for the Gairs at the south end of Lake Kiesel and followed them to the chosen bread dispensing spot along the east shore.

Of late, beginning a couple of months ago, David began appearing alone with his loaded backpack. Vi, he told inquirers, “is not feeling well.” Later that became, “Vi is depressed,” and later still, “Vi has had a stroke and is in the hospital.”

Then came the morning that David himself was not to be seen.

The following day he explained: “Vi passed away last night.”

He went on to tell us of the kindness shown them at Sutter Memorial Hospital, where a cot was placed in Vi’s room so he could spend the last few nights and be with her until the end.

That’s the end of the story, too, and I apologize to anyone who feels it’s rather pointless. But I find this old-fashioned love story very touching.

And I know that Tony and Nadine and George and I and the other early morning regulars hope David will find comfort in treading alone the path he and Vi traversed for so long together.

•      •      •

Memory can be a very selective thing, can’t it? Take what so many considered a tripling of the tax on automobiles, since rescinded by the new governor. They completely overlook the fact it actually was the re-imposition of an old tax, triggered by economic conditions.

At the time the tax was reduced to one-third of what it had been, it was explained that the cut was due to a surplus in the state treasury, and that it might be raised to its previous figure if that fiscal surplus disappeared. Which, unfortunately, it did.

So now it has been somewhat unrealistically reduced again, and according to news reports it’ll be the cities and counties that will come up short with funds needed for such necessities as street and road repairs.

The next cries of anguish you’ll hear will be from those who complained about the vehicle tax — griping about the high cost of pothole-necessitated wheel alignments.

•      •      •

It’s long been one of my theories that one of the main reasons for playing baseball is to provide statistics for fans to discuss and argue over during the off season. The problem is that some of those who argue also appear to be ignorant of the rules of the game.

Just recently I saw a letter in a newspaper from a fan deeply aggrieved that Barry Bonds was named the National League’s Most Valuable Player rather than St. Louis’ Albert Pujols.

Now I’m no particular Barry Bonds fan. I consider him pretty much a one-dimensional performer who at times is downright lazy in fielding his outfield position. But I can’t agree with this fan’s highly disputable logic.

First, he complains that Bonds had but 133 hits contrasted with 212 for Pujols. Did he stop to consider how many times Bonds never got a chance to hit? Opposing managers made sure that many of a staggering number of walks were intentional. Since a walk does put a man on base, it validates the old saying, “A walk is as good as a hit.”

In the same vein, the letter writer complains that Pujols had 390 at-bats contrasted to only 201 for Bonds. It may be news to the Pujols fan, but a base on balls does not count as a time at bat. If bases on balls did, I’m sure the two players would have had comparable figures.

Methinks the complainant got himself into one of those comparative situations that involve apples and oranges.

•      •      •

I used to pride myself on being able to work crossword puzzles with a pen rather than a pencil. Sometimes I could even solve those from the New York Times on Fridays and Saturdays whereas now I never even try past Monday or Tuesday.

The problem is that the world has moved ahead without me. Oh, I don’t mean the political world, the truly serious and real world. What has left me lost in a cloud of dust is the unreal world, the world of trivia. You know, the unimportant stuff like entertainment.

Sports I follow, but movies and television? Forget it. I see maybe one movie a year, two at the very most. When it comes to the tube, I haven’t watched a sitcom in years because I despise laugh tracks. I don’t need anyone to tell me when it’s time to laugh.

Just recently I was puzzled by the word “mic” in an entertainment story. Then I learned it’s short for “microphone.” Whatever happened to “mike,” the spelling I grew up with?

So I suppose I’ll keep on getting my news from newspapers (TV doesn’t care about news unless it photographs well) and follow live sports on the tube.

But it does bother me a little that I don’t even miss all the things I’m obviously missing.