Stories And Poems I'd like to share

The next two stories are recent fiction of mine

Through the Spyglass

By Ron Taube


My father was a sea-faring man. He served honorably in the Navy aboard a tanker in the North Sea in World War 1. After the war he was briefly with the Coast Guard and then he was in the Merchant Marines. So my father was a man who loved the sea. We grew up on the shore of Lake Superior.
I went to a little schoolhouse about thirty miles north of Duluth where we had only thirty students. Most of those students had to bike or walk many miles to the school since houses were few and far between at the time. I thought that I knew every kid within twenty miles of our house but I was wrong.
In our living room facing the Bay window that overlooked the lake we had an old fashioned Spyglass. It was made of brass and it's casing was leather. It stood on a tripod that that had markings for the degrees of a circle. My mother looked through it frequently to see if my father's Tanker was heading in to port. It was an excellent Spyglass and one could see clearly for many miles.
My father was often gone for long periods of time. After saying goodbye to him at the shipyard mother would turn to me and say, "now you must be the man of the house." And so I was.
I had a little sister named Lucy who could be quite a handful. When mother went into Duluth for Groceries I had to watch Lucy. One day when I was about fourteen and I was reading Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Lucy yelled out to me.
"There's a pretty girl on the point Sammy. I bet you will fall in love with her."
Lucy was standing on an orange crate and looking through the Spyglass. She was only five but was very resourceful.
"Mother will kill you if she sees that you took the oranges out of the crate and used it for standing on!" I yelled back. But I was more interested in what she was looking at than in chastising her. I just didnÍt want her to know that I was interested.
I got her off the crate and returned it to the kitchen then I found something in her bedroom to keep her busy with. When she was out of sight I stole a look through the Spyglass.
Mom always kept it set on 152 degrees so that she could see the ships but Susie had moved it to 137 degrees, which was at Grovers' point.
I looked through the Spyglass and saw a thin girl of about my age or perhaps a little older. She had long dark hair and was sitting on the overview rock reading something. She was all alone.
The spyglass was not fully extended since mother wanted an over view of the lake so by pulling it out one more notch I could see a bit closer. Instead of just a stick figure in the distance she now filled about one third of the scene. She had her back against a large boulder and her book was resting on her knees, which were almost to her chest. She had on a long skirt that went almost to her ankles. I could not quite see her face but she was clearly into her book.
I looked around to see what Lucy was doing. I couldn't see her but I could hear her singing to herself in her room. I went back to the Spyglass.
She was looking up now. She was looking out at the Lake. The waves were high that day and they were starting to splash up towards the rock she was on. I worried that she would become afraid of getting wet and walk away but she seemed unconcerned and went back to her book.
It was a warm spring day when I first saw the girl. We didn't get as many tourists on the North Shore back in 1933 so I figured that she was visiting one of my neighbors.
I soon heard the sound of our Model A roadster pulling onto our gravel driveway so I quickly put the Spyglass back to 152 degrees and pushed it back in a notch before my mother came to the door.
I was grateful later that Lucy said nothing about the girl to my mother. Mother was always trying to encourage me to become friends with the kids at school but I preferred the friends that I met in books. I already felt like Jack Hawkins from Treasure Island was a kindred spirit. Maybe this girl would be also after all she seemed to be a bookworm too.
I asked around the school to see if anyone knew of a new girl but no one had heard a thing. I didn't want to seem too curious so I let it go after a while. Each day after school when my mother wasnÍt around I would look out on the point but there was no sign of her. There was an old house on the point owned by the Ferguson's but they were an old couple and it seemed unlikely that they would have a young daughter.
Finally about a month after I spotted her the first time I saw her again. She sat again on the same spot reading a book. Mother and Lucy were in town so I just sat there and watched her for about an hour. When the sun poked out of from a cloud I could see that she had either red or reddish brown hair. She was wearing blue jeans on this day with the pants folded up at the ankles. She read her book for a few minutes then looked around then went back to her book. I wondered what she was reading. I was about to take a walk down to the point when she looked suddenly over in my direction. I backed away from the Spyglass and into a shadow in the room. I don't know why but I was so afraid that she would see me spying on her.
By the time I had the courage to go back to the Spyglass she was gone from the rock. I worried the rest of the day that she had seen me. I couldn't get her out of my mind.
The next day while mother was hanging her wash out on the line I dared to look through the spyglass again. She was there again. She wasn't reading this time. She had on a swimsuit. It was a one piece swimsuit with a short skirt that was the fashion at the time. It was too cold in the lake to swim except on the hottest days so I figured that she was just taking in the sun. She had a large bath towel beneath her and she was lying on her stomach.
I asked my mother if she would need me and she said not until dinner time so I told her I was taking a walk along the shoreline.
The shoreline was full of large boulders and a few trees between our house and the point. It winded and there were areas where I couldn't see the point and I figured someone on the point couldn't see me. In those areas I ran and jumped over the boulders. I didnÍt want her to be gone by the time I got there.
At last as I drew near the point I slowed down and tried to act as if this was just a casual walk along the beach.
The point was maybe fifty feet above where I was at so I had to make a slow circular climb in order to reach it. When I was at the peak at last I could see the girl now sitting on the boulder she usually leaned against. She was facing the lake and couldnÍt see my approach.
As I drew nearer, I was struck by the beauty of that long, red, shiny hair. I tripped over a rock as I approached and expected her to turn and look but she didn't. At last I was almost at her side before she noticed me.
She had freckles and she had blue eyes that seemed innocent. She was frightened a little at the sight of me and those eyes went wide.
"I'm sorry, I was just taking a walk and I.. ." I stammered.
She quickly gathered up her towel and walked past me. She walked quickly back the way I came and I followed her until I saw her heading towards the Fergusons' house. She turned briefly. She saw me and stopped. I stood there like a helpless idiot.
"I'm sorry!" I shouted but she ignored me and went into the house.
I decided to stick to my books for a long time after that. Books didn't hurt your feelings like people did.
My father came back after that and stayed for two weeks before his next tanker headed out. He caught me looking out through the Spyglass one day and asked me what I was looking at.
I made him promise not to tell mom and he put his hand over his heart and swore an oath so I told him about the girl.
He looked through the glass even though I had already told him she wasn't there that day.
"She's living at the Ferguson's?"He asked at last.
"Yes, sir."
"You know I'm friends with Larry Ferguson, don't you?"
"No, sir I didn't."
"Well I'm his first mate and he's my Captain. You know that his wife died last year down in Duluth having their second child and her first child was born deaf and dumb so his parents took her in over the winter. You've never heard your mother and I talk about them?"
ñNo sir, not that I can remember.î I honestly had no idea about any of this.
ñShe canÍt go to regular school so they are teaching her everything at home. I guess that sheÍs very shy so thatÍs probably why she ran from you.î
ñWhatÍs her name?î I asked.
ñIÍm not sure if this is right but I think itÍs Lonnie.î
ñDo you know how old she is?î
My dad scratched his head. He usually wore his sailorsÍ cap even indoors but today I could see the bald spot where he was scratching.
ñWell they were married the same year your mother and I were and that was right after the war. I think that she is maybe just a couple of months older than you so IÍd guess that sheÍs your age.î
I was grateful for this new information.
I continued to keep looking through the Spyglass all summer. Sometimes I would see her, more often I wouldnÍt. One day mother was making a cake and ran out of sugar and she asked me to go to the neighbors and borrow a cup so I ran down to the FergusonÍs house and knocked on the door.
I had a long wait and then finally old man Ferguson opened the door. I told him that my mother needed sugar and I handed him the cup that she gave me. He was very nice.
He invited me in and offered me a seat in his rocker while he went to the kitchen. I looked around for signs of Lonnie. There was a book on the table beside me that was poetry. I picked it up. The writerÍs name was Emily Dickinson. One page was earmarked. I started to read it when old man Ferguson returned with the sugar.
ñDo you like poetry young man?î
ñI donÍt know.î I said.
ñI havenÍt read much.î I added.
ñWell that book is one that our granddaughter has started to read. It has a poem in it that I earmarked for her. Is that where you are?î
ñYes, sir.î
ñRead it please.î
I held the book in front of me and read.
ñIÍm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you-Nobody-Too?
Then thereÍs a pair of us!
DonÍt tell! TheyÍd advertise-you know

How dreary-to be ?Somebody!
How public-like a Frog-
To tell oneÍs name ?the livelong June-
To an admiring Bog!î

ñVery good you read very well young man. ItÍs a pity that Lonnie canÍt hear poetry. She can only read it. SheÍs deaf you know.î
ñUm no I didnÍtî I lied.
ñDid you see her when you came to the house?î
ñNo sir.î
ñWell she should be back. . .î
Just then the front door opened and there stood the girl of my dreams. She had a small bunch of black-eyed susans in her hands and a smile on her face at least until she saw me.
She walked up to her grandfather and handed them to him then gave him a hug. He pushed her back to arms length after the hug so that she could read his lips.
ñThis is our neighbor.î Then he looked at me. ñWhatÍs your name?î
ñSammy Stanford.î
ñHis name is Sammy. You must be HarlanÍsÍ son. Your father is my sonÍs first mate right?î
ñYes sir.î
ñHeÍs practically family.î Mr. Ferguson told Lonnie.
I was liking this old guy better and better.
Lonnie looked over at me now. She was blushing a little. Maybe she was remembering how I had scared her.
Mr. Ferguson walked over to me and asked me to hand him the book. He took it and sat down and asked Lonnie and I to take seats facing him. He explained to me that Lonnie could read his lips if she looked directly at him.
He then paged through the book until he came to the poem that he wanted. He took a deep breath and then read in a most soothing voice the following poem.

I never saw a moor,

I never saw the sea;

Yet know I how the heather looks,

And what a wave must be.


I never spoke with God,

Nor visited in heaven;

Yet certain am I of the spot

As if the chart were given

When he was done I looked over at Lonnie. She seemed to understand it and got up and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. She must love him very much I thought.
Mr. Ferguson told me that his wife was in town and would be back later. He wanted her to meet me and he wanted me to come over for supper some time. While he told me all this I was looking at Lonnie to see if she was against it but she sat there stoically.
I knew that it was time to go so I ran off back home with the sugar. Later I told mother about meeting Mr. Ferguson without mentioning Lonnie. She said that I could go to dinner there anytime they wanted.
When I thought about it I figured that he was just being nice and would never invite me over but the next morning there was a loud knock on our door.
Lucy answered it, I heard her talking to someone then when the door slammed shut she ran to me and handed me a note. It invited me for dinner that very night.
ñWho gave you the note?î I asked casually figuring that it was probably Mr. Ferguson.
ñIt was that pretty girl that we saw through the Spyglass.î Lucy said with a giggle.
I ran to the door but she was already well gone.
I then ran to the spyglass and after finally spotting her I used it to watch her all the way back to her house. I mentally willed her to turn but she never did.
I thought about it for a minute then realized that they needed a response from me about dinner. It was an excuse to go to their house so I did.
Lonnie was sitting in a deck chair in their front yard reading a book when I arrived. Her shiny long auburn hair was tied up in pigtails. She was so absorbed in her book that she didnÍt notice me. She was reading Rudyard KiplingsÍ Captains Courageous a book that my dad had me read last year.
I touched her shoulder and she looked up at me startled. To my surprise when she realized who I was she smiled. She had the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. I spoke slowly so that she could read my lips. I said that IÍd love to have dinner that night. I knew that she couldnÍt speak but she nodded that she understood and ran in and told her grandfather.
He came out and shook my hand and told me that heÍd be delighted to have me over. His wife came out to say hi also. She was drying her hands on her apron.
We had Lamb stew that night with boiled potatoes and peas. I wanted to just stare at Lonnie but I knew that would be rude so I only stole glances at her.
After dinner we all talked a few minutes then her Grandfather picked up a book and sat in front of the fireplace while her Grandmother did the dishes. Lonnie and I walked along the lakeshore. Neither of us spoke. I couldnÍt because in the dark, even by moonlight it would be difficult for her to read my lips and she just plain couldnÍt speak at all. Once she grabbed my shirtsleeve and stopped me and pointed out a tugboat going by.
After my first dinner at the FergusonÍs I got invited back many times over the years and my mother had Lonnie and even her grandparents over several times. Lonnie and I gradually became friends. She was like the most gentle flower you ever saw and I knew it even then. She took delight in the most simple things and loved to show me her world as much as she could.
I never told the kids at school about Lonnie. I guess I was in part protective of her and also worried that if some of the boys saw how beautiful she was they would take advantage of her.
After high school I joined the Coast Guard and whenever I came home Lonnie was always there waiting for me. She wrote me long letters telling me about everything and I kept those letters through the years. I never told her in those days how much I loved her and thought about her but I think that she knew.
When the war broke out I switched from the coast guard to the Navy. Before I went overseas I came home on leave and proposed to Lonnie. I took her out to the point where I had first seen her through the Spyglass and told her how much I loved her and wanted to marry her. She cried and cried and nodded yes.
We married at an old church in Duluth and her father and Grandparents were there as well as my family. My mother loved her too. Her father and my father were in uniform.
I spent four years in the North Atlantic and was in a ship that sunk at one point but I came home with all my limbs in tact. My father was killed in the pacific when his tanker was sunk and my mother died of scarlet fever soon after. Lucy got taken in by my Aunt Carol in Minneapolis.
When the war was over and I sailed into the port at Duluth I thought that no one would be there to meet me. I hadnÍt wired ahead so no one knew but someone was there. It was Lonnie.
She had bought my old spyglass from mother after father died and placed it in her living room and used it to watch for ships. Every time she saw a ship come in she drove down to Duluth to meet it hoping that it was me and finally it was.
Lonnie and I had three wonderful kids. Each time she was worried that one of them would be born deaf and dumb but none of them were. In time she met a therapist who taught her how to talk a bit and she was able to say a few muffled words.
After the war I went into the Merchant Marines like my dad and retired in nineteen eighty. Lonnie and I had seven grandchildren, some of which visit us regularly.
Last year Lonnie got cancer and when she died yesterday the last thing she said in her muffled voice was. ñI love you Sammy.î
I will never look through that Spyglass again. IÍve already seen the best that this world has to offer.

The Gift

The Gift
By Ron Taube

It seems that the older you get the fewer friends that you have. Just the other day I read in the obituaries about someone I knew as a child. His name was Harold Gardner and he died from some kind of annurism. He was seventy eight years old one year older than me. I knew him when he was ten years old and I was nine. We lived in a little town in the center of South Dakota named Stumpton when I knew him. We both were farm boys.
His farm was about five miles from mine but both of us could get to town on a Saturday afternoon in about twenty minutes. We would meet at Hendersons General store at the soda counter and order Lime Phosphates. Henderson was an old man in a straw hat who talked tough but if you offered to help him unload supplies or sweep up heÍd give you a soda drink and let you pick out a penny candy from a glass jar.
Times were tough then. Lots of our neighbors had already lost their farms. The bank took them all. My dad said that but for the grace of God we still had ours but it was touch and go most of the time. There hadnÍt been much rain and the land was mighty dusty. Some days you couldnÍt see your hand in front of your face for the dust.
Me and Harry used to help old man Henderson then get our phosphates and candy and then walk around the town. Stumpton wasnÍt much of a town then. There was Hendersons and the grain elevator and TomÍs Texaco and a bakery and that was about it. Harry and I liked to sit on the pavement near TomÍs Texaco and watch him work on cars. Tom was a bald man of about forty and once in a while heÍd ask one of us to hand him a wrench or hold something. Tom was a nice man.
Harry and I would sit there all afternoon and talk. Harry would tell me about his sister and his parents and I would talk about my dog Pete and my old man. We got to be good friends and we helped each other on our farms when it was time to plant and time to harvest. Our parents were never that close but Harry and I knew everything about each other.
One Sunday after church at the Stumpton Methodist church Harry had me over to his house for dinner. I had been there before for Sunday dinner but this Sunday Harry promised to show me something special.
At my house my mother always tried to make a roast or something on Sunday but at HarryÍs his dad always made fried chicken and I loved his fried chicken. My mom would be working steadily from the time we got home from church but HarryÍs mom sat on the sofa and knitted socks while his dad made the entire Sunday dinner.
While HarryÍs dad was cooking and his mom was knitting Harry brought me upstairs to his room. He was very hush hush about what I was about to see. He took a key out of his drawer then dug way under his bed where he found a small metal box with a lock on it. He looked around carefully to make sure his nosey sister wasnÍt around then he carefully opened the metal box. Inside the box was a smaller metal box that had once held bandages and he then opened this box. Inside the box was a small folded square of paper. Harry looked around again and then carefully unfolded that piece of paper. When he was done there was nothing left but a penny.
I looked at Harry like he was crazy.
ñYou keep a penny in a locked box under your bed?.î
Harry started to explain but I interrupted him.
ñI know that everyoneÍs poor and we all need our pennies but no one keeps a penny locked in a box under his bed. Harry youÍve gone nuts.î
Harry looked patiently at me. He was after all older and wiser and needed patience with my stupidity.
ñIf you will just be quiet for a minute Jerry IÍll tell you about this penny. It ainÍt no ordinary penny.î
I picked up the penny and looked at it. On one side was an Inian head with full head dress and the word Liberty in the head band. Beneath that head was the year 1904. On the other side were the words One Cent surrounded by a garland of leaves.
ñIt looks pretty ordinary to me.î I said.
ñWell maybe it looks that way but it ainÍt. I found this here penny on the road to Mitchel about a year ago. It was just a lying there shinning away in the sun when we stopped to change the tire on the car. I picked it up and didnÍt say nothin because I would have had to give it up to dad if I had .Later on I heard on the radio that there were some rare coins and some of them was Indian Head Pennies so I went to the library and looked up this one here and it was just like the picture in the book. This one here is worth maybe two hundred dollars.î
I laughed. ñHow can a penny be worth two hundred dollars. ThatÍs nuts. A penny is worth a penny and thatÍs it.î
ñJerry sometimes you just donÍt get things. ñThis penny is rare. You know how gold is rare and because itÍs rare itÍs worth more? Well they donÍt make this penny no more so itÍs rare. Dad says that if the whole world was made of gold then a handfull of dirt would be worth a lot because it was rare.î
ñOh.î Was all I said. This idea was new to me.
ñSo this is like my most treasured possession and I got to guard it because if my sister saw it sheÍd probably just go down to Hendersons and spend it on a peppermint stick or something. You know?î
Even though I had no little sister, I had met his and he was right.
ñRight.î I said.
After we were done looking at it he put it back in the paper and back in the bandage box and carefully placed that in the metal box with the lock and key and slid it way under his bed.
Over the next few months whenever I came over he would show me his penny. It was his most treasured possesion.
In the fall of that year when we were about to harvest our crop the locusts came and wiped us out. My old man said that it was an act of god and that it was time for him to leave the land and get a job in the city. We had to sell our farm and I had to give away Pete. I gave him to Harry who promised to take good care of him. The day we left Harry was sitting on the pavement in front of TomÍs Texaco and I asked Dad to stop the truck and let me say good bye.
Harry stood up and looked me deeply into the eye then he took something out of his pocket and stuck it inside of my shirt and made me promise not to look until we reached the Minnesota border. I said goodbye to Harry and kept my word. But the second we crossed into Minnesota I opened my shirt and there was that bandage box and I knew what it was immediately.
ñWhat you got there Jerry?î My dad asked.
ñItÍs just a lucky Penny that Harry gave me.î I said without opening it. My dad said nothing more about it but I thought about that penny every day for weeks. Finally I went to the library and checked it out. It was worth a lot less than Harry had said but when I finally told my dad about it he said.
ñWell Harry thought it was worth a lot and thatÍs all that counts. It was the most valuable thing that he owned and he cared enough about you to give it to you. So if I were you IÍd never sell it for the rest of my life.î
And I never did. I still have it and when I read of HarryÍs death I took it out of itÍs little box and held it in my hand and cried.

Grandpa Wally

Someone Who Influenced Me
By
Ron Taube

Grandpa Wally was an occasional dinner guest at our house. He was the man that my mother most worried that I would grow up to be. In old family films he had the stern old-world look on his face. He wasn’t really born in Germany but his parents were and they left their mark on him.
He was born in 1887 the third of four brothers. His oldest brother Paul was known as the cowboy because photos of him show him on a horse with one six shooter on each hip and a big white cowboy hat on his head. He had also prospected for gold in Alaska at the turn of the century.
Wally was the artist in the family. He had a talent for drawing that enabled him to draw virtually anything with photo-realistic accuracy.
He became a commercial artist as a young man and by the time my father was born he had his own studio in downtown Minneapolis and created adds for some of the largest businesses in the area.
His two best known icons were the original Land of Lakes Indian and Rocky the goat on the side of the Great Northern trains.
My earliest recollections of him go back to about five years of age.
He had a cabin on the shores of Round Lake in northern Minnesota near Hubbard . One day as I was attempting to overcome my fear of water, I tried dipping my feet into the water and Grandpa Wally seated upon his deck chair kicked out his foot and sent me sailing into the water instantly. He had little patience for timidity. I still was afraid of the water, perhaps even more so but he felt that he had taught me something.
We often went to that cabin in the summer time. My father and Grandpa Wally had built that cabin back in the early thirties. The main part of it was a log cabin and added onto it were two porches and a spare bedroom. One porch was a screen porch and the other was really a sun room made from the windows of a streetcar. I used to like to sleep in there when the weather wasn’t too cold.
By the time that I knew Grandpa Wally he was a successful commercial artist. He had been vice president in charge of advertising for Campbell Methune and had a top rated agency of his own on Marquette street in Minneapolis. He did the magazine adds for Land O’lakes and a number of other clients.
My mother had many fights with Grandpa. They both were vary opinionated and neither knew what it meant to compromise. My father was often in the middle.
Wally’s wife Helen had died in 1940 and I never met her. He dated occasionally after that but except for occasional rumors that he was seeing Great Aunt Lila he had no real love life. He was in semi-retirement on the first week of July in 1958 when he invited me to go with him to his cabin over the fourth. I knew that I was his second choice, he had already invited my older sister Maureen who had other plans, but I was glad to go up there.
He drove a 1951 Studebaker. It had the nose of a bullet and seemed like a jet plane to my 11 year old imagination. Wally drove fast all the way up to the cabin. It was a four hour drive and it was hot and he had no air conditioning. We had the windows open and I often hung my head out the window along the way.
We reached the cabin near nightfall. It was seven miles off the main highway and the back road was nothing but car tracks imprinted on the grass.
When we reached the cabin Wally unlocked the door and we started to clean up the place. It had an old gas refrigerator that had to be lit and my Grandpa proceeded to light it and then we carried in our gear.
After dinner that night Wally complained of being tired and went right to bed. The next morning I got up with the sun and was surprised that Wally wasn’t out of bed yet. He was in the spare bedroom and he had on the space heater and it was hot in there, but still he complained that it was too cold in the cabin and he asked me to light the stove and turn it up to make it warmer.
I did this and then he apologized for not feeling well and asked me if I didn’t mind going fishing by myself. I was shocked but agreed to go.
I was gone the rest of the morning and came back in the afternoon for lunch and Wally was still in bed.
I made my own lunch and went out fishing again with no results and came back towards dusk. Wally was making dinner when I got there and I was really glad to see him as I was getting rather lonely.
After dinner we played cards on the table in front of the picture window overlooking the lake as my Grandpa smoked his pipe. We went to bed early and he promised to show me a good fishing spot the next day.
I slept beside the fireplace and woke when the sun rose again. Wally was still in bed and complaining again about feeling cold. I turned up his space heater and lit the stove again and got him an extra blanket. He apologized again about not going out with me and I went out fishing again by myself.
When I returned hours later, he was still in bed but he sat up and asked me if I had any luck. I shook my head.
“Well then we’ll just have to get you some nightcrawlers.” he said and got up and got dressed.
“What are night crawlers?” I asked.
“They’re big worms and I know a spot behind the garbage pit where I can get you some.” He said.
So he got a pitchfork and I followed him out behind the garbage pit and he started digging. He had only turned over one forkful of dirt when he stiffened and fell over on his back.
Grandpa Wally loved to pretend to be dead and so I poked him a couple of times with my finger and told him to get up. He didn’t move. I said. “I know you’re alive Grandpa because you’re eyes are open.” But he said nothing, so I poked him with the pitchfork gently in his side but still he didn’t move. I got scared then. I stood there a long time hoping he would move but he didn’t.
The nearest neighbor Mr.Koch ,was a quarter of a mile away along the beach so I ran as fast as I could along the wooded trail to the neighbors cottage. He was cleaning fish out side his cabin when I arrived. Mr.Koch was a man about Grandpas age and I had seen him once or twice in the company of Wally.
“Grandpa’s playing dead,” I said to him, “but he won’t get up , he may be hurt or something!”
“Follow me.” he said as he hurriedly led me back up the trail I had just come down. When we got back to our cabin Wally was still on the ground and it was beginning to rain lightly.
Mr. Koch leaned over my grandpa and felt his pulse and put his head on his chest, then he gently closed his eyes with his two index fingers.
“Your grandpa ain’t faking this time son, he’s dead.” It was the day before his 71st. birthday.
I was stunned. This couldn’t be happening. The neighbor found a tarp and placed it over my Grandpa to keep him dry then he led me back to his cabin and called the ambulance. Our cabin had no phone.
There was some debate about who should take his body because the lake was one half in one county and half in another.
Finally an ambulance drove him off while I stood in the rain thinking I had killed him somehow.
Later we called my dad and he promised to come get me. I ate dinner at the Kochs’ house and his wife even made me cocoa and then I fell asleep beside their fireplace.
I had a dream then that I’ve never forgotten. Grandpa Wally came to me like from out of a cloud and told me that I hadn’t killed him because he was still alive and that he was happy. When I awoke my father had just arrived and though I was glad to see him I never told him about the dream.
My grandpa was the first to show me that life never ends. It has helped me in many ways over the years.

Other Links

Ron's Thoughts

Email Me

My Favorite Products

Download AOL Instant Messenger