STORY: There was a winter when Mother could not pay the gas bill for our three-story Victorian house. Pop put a door on the kitchen and turned on the electric stove to use the oven for heat. We heated water on the stove and washed in the sink. We ate, dressed and did our homework in that one room. At night, we scurried to a large bed upstairs, where the three of us kids pooled our blankets and shared the warmth.
Pop hated cards. He said that people always fight over cards and have even killed each other. Occasionally, we would get a deck of cards from the dime store to play games like fish and gin rummy. He allowed it until we started arguing over who was cheating - always my brother. Then he grabbed the cards and into the trash they went - until another deck came our way.
STORY: A couple boys had Jerry just outside our yard and were taunting him. He must have been nine or ten years old. Pop, Karen and I were watching from behind curtain at the kitchen window as they placed a stick on my Brother's shoulder and knocked it off. He was confused and humiliated and I felt so bad for him, but Pop would not intervene. When they were finished bullying, Jerry came in the house and Pop made it clear to him that if that ever happened again Jerry would get the whipping of his young life. Pop never made idle threats and Jerry knew it. A few months later, my brother came in holding one hand in the other. Grandfather stopped him in the kitchen and wanted to know what was going on. That's when my brother fearfully revealed his hand with two knuckles out of place. Pop pulled on his fingers to reset them while asking how it happened. Jerry had a disagreement with his best friend and had punched him. Pop was so proud, and my brother did not let anyone bully him from that day on. Oh yeah, he and Charlie remained best friends through the Vietnam war.
Pop told us he knew everything we said and did. He had eyes in the back of his head was how he put it. We believed it because - he did! It took me some time to realize that he spied on us at play. He would amuse himself by sitting around the corner and listening to us. He heard if we said a bad word, if we cheated at a game, what we argued about and learned all about each of us as individuals. He also used shiny surfaces to see us when his back was turned. Nothing got past that old man and we thought he was magic.
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| Jerry, around age 12 - 13 |
STORY: About the age of eleven or twelve, my brother's friendship with Charlie had grown. Charlie had a father who smoked cigars and would drink himself to sleep on a weekend. After the household had retired for the night, my brother would climb out his bedroom window, down the drain pipe of the back porch, and go to Charlie's house where the two of them would wait for Charlie's "old man" to fall asleep (pass out). Once this was done, my brother and his friend would finish the whiskey and smoke the cigars. In the early morning hours, my brother would sneak back into the house by way of the old coal delivery door in the cellar. Pop became aware of pretty much all of this. On one of these occasions - I believe the last one - Pop waited for midnight and went to the basement to wait at the door of the coal chute. When Jerry came in, feet first, Pop grabbed his ankles and scared my brother so bad that he peed his pants and baptized Pop in the process. (It was a sprinkle baptism.) Of course, Pop let go and Jerry ran. In the morning, Pop found my brother asleep on the cold concrete of the front porch. He opened the door and Jerry came in - very sheepishly I might add. There was never a word said about the matter. My brother stopped sneaking out at night.
God must have blessed Pop for all he did for us, Mother and those to whom he shared the wisdom of Solomon before and after us. We became his life during that time; a kind of mission. The teachings and constant attention cannot be measured by mere love. Pop was God sent.
* This continuing story begins with the post on Dec. 30, 2024
