STORIES

Have you ever thought you would like to know a little personal history? And perhaps share that with others? I have, and while I been in the hospital so much these last two months I have been thinking some what along those lines at times.

The generations that came before us are the essence of the people we become. But all too often, we know so little of their lives and the people they were. They're just names and dates chiseled in granite.

It's in the storytelling that our lives become real, are sanctified and given dignity.

So now when the grandchildren come over for a visit I often hear: ".Grandpa, tell us a story about when you were a little boy."

In that moment, I know I am wanted. With them, I can become a child again. I tell them with joy...and perhaps a story or two they'll remember and pass along someday to their grandchildren. Perhaps you too can tell a story of a past generation that some would like to hear. There are quite a few first cousins who can't remember anything about Grandpa and Grandma, because they never had the privilege of knowing them.

Grandpa, his rabbits and rats.

He was an old man probably not much older than I am now. Thick white hair, bib overalls and a white mustache and usually a long sleeve plaid shirt. Because he was an elder he was respected by this little boy of 6 or 7 years old. You see I walked from my house to his house, about a mile which is a journey for a lad by himself pulling his little red wagon and I was proud I could do it. My Mom had ask me to go see Grandpa and to fill my little red wagon with rabbit droppings so she could place it around the flowers and make them grow. When I got there I found Grandpa under a shade tree in the back yard fast asleep in a lawn chair. He awoke right away and I told him what I had come for. Well he said there is more to it than that. First we have to go out to the garage and sit a spell so you can learn some things that you don't know.

He went into the back porch and got his gun, and to this young kid I was afraid and told him I didn't want any part of a gun. "Come on I will show you a few things." We when out to the garage and there was an old bench where two people could sit. He said I should sit with him on that bench and watch the hole in the wall on the other side of the garage. He told me I needed to be very quiet and still. Something a boy my size found hard to do, especially with him having a gun in his hand, I did my best. He put his hand on my knee and said it would be alright, that rats liked to get in the rabbit cages and kill the rabbits. and he usually had to keep them under control. I had no idea what this meant, but I sure found out fast.

We were sitting there very still just him and I, when a rat appeared in the hole. He raised that gun and shot that rat right between the eyes. I started to get up. He said nobody told you to get up sit right back down and stay quiet. Where there is one rat there is always another, He told me, Sure enough a few minutes later another rat appeared in the hole. He raised the gun and shot that rat between the eyes too. He told me. "In your life some times a rat will show up, be sure to look for the other one, that's life." I never knew what he meant for a long time. I often remember his advise, and wish that some of the words I get to tell my grandchildren will stick like his did to me.
To a little boy with a little red wagon full of manure walking home and thinking about what had just happened between him and his Grandpa is a memory that lasts and lasts. Thanks Grandpa.

Perhaps you have a memory or memories of days gone by that you would share.

Storytelling adds substance to names and dates chiseled in granite and keeps memories alive. Hope to read your stories on the blog.

John