Just wanted to share, have posted else where,but some times we get to tied up in things:
Winter of 52 it was cold, in Kansas, and Grand dad George was feeling old, he had been having breathing problems for a year or more,and was running down the clock with the devil as he said. Mom and dad let me stay for Christmas that year, the morning broke crisp and cold, you could see out to the old hay barn,and icicles where hanging from the eves, there was frost fog rolling in the meadow, and you could just make out the cattle,in the back. Granddad said to go out, and start up the Chevy, so out I went; bundled up like a longshoreman,as I headed for the door he said,"Davie you got your colt?" Yes SIR! The old Chevy has a hard starter and my legs a tad short for the button, but she cranked and started to purr, I watched from the front seat as he kissed grandma bye and walked toward the car,he had his 99 with him,he slid it into the scabbard under the seat and told me to soch over and grab the wheel. "Where we going?" "Davie Mr. Johns wants us to pay a visit before the road closes to his place" So off we went slowly out the drive and up the old dirt road, hard left onto the back forty and the devils path,about an hour or so later we pulled up to the fence line and there was Mr.Johns in his buckboard with Susie biggest damn Percheron I had ever seen to this day. it was a quite ride,I sat bundled under heavy hand made quilts in the back on straw and listened as the wheels crunched and the ice popped,every once in awhile you could hear the braces snap and Mr.Johns "whoa Susie,don't kill'em yet" When we finally got to his place, I could see the smoke and smell the chips burning.Out front on the ground on a logging chain laid buff, he was a dog and yote cross and just plain mean when cornered, but he loved me to rub his belly . I walked up and extended my hand palm down and waited what seemed an hour for him to move, he yawned and smiled and stretched that dog type stretch where you whole back just wants to be able to do the same, and walked over and licked my face.We walked into the house,I could see Mr.Johns had added some new sod in the summer and the inside of the home had that earthen smell. Over the fire was his dutch oven and it was just cooking away,we had lunch and hand ground coffee,"Black and HOT" as granddad like,Mr Johns slipped an cycle in mine to cool her down, I laid on buff and scratched his belly while the two talked "men" talk, I listened to stories of young men in the 1800's walking the plains and fighting the last of the "real" Indians, of wars and lost loves, we went out back shot some,and watched a couple of foxes running the snow banks laying on the sand hills,we spent the night and then retraced our steps home,as we left Mr.Johns came up and gave me the biggest bear hug short of the old man's and told me I was a fine lad,and to remember to all ways look a man in the eye,and stand by your word..
Winter past and Mom got a call one April morning, Grandad had Finlay lost his battle with the devil and the "old folk" had found Mr. Johns dead in his bed,and buff gone.
Grandad was 103 and Mr.Johns,well was just older'n dirt as he said. Christmas's come and go, and most i hate, but I remember that one,as of the best in my life, Its funny what life will throw at you . Enjoy the season, and the memories to be had.
Dave
