\u00a0<\/p>\n
________________________________________<\/p>\n
This was supposed to have been a Christmas issue, on December 25th. Obviously, that didn\u2019t happen\u2014the result of a family tragedy from which we\u2019re not yet fully recovered. Thanks for your patience. Here it is, as originally written for you.<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n The story that follows is an excerpt from the manuscript of a full-length novel I\u2019ve been writing, that borrows liberally from some of my own experiences as a boy and as Scout.<\/em><\/p>\n As this scene opens, it\u2019s the day of Christmas Eve. Eleven year-old Scout Eddie Starling\u2019s parents are at work this day, so he\u2019s at his grandfather\u2019s house, helping decorate. Grampa is a pre-Vietnam Era Army veteran who lost his wife\u2014Eddie\u2019s grandmother\u2014two years ago…<\/em><\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThanks for coming over today, Eddie. I\u2019d been tempted to just let the Christmas decorations sit in their boxes again this year. It hasn\u2019t been the same since\u2026\u201d \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Grampa\u2019s house is a few miles from ours. It\u2019s out on the edge of town, where the fields and farms and woods begin. It was built nearly a hundred years ago and it\u2019s the only house Grampa and Grandma ever lived in. They bought it right after Grampa came out of the Army and married Grandma, and it\u2019s where Dad grew up. It\u2019s a tiny house\u2014called a \u201cCape Cod,\u201d Dad said\u2014but it\u2019s totally organized, just like Grampa\u2019s tools, all hanging on pegboards above his basement workbench and more on the walls of the old garage out back. They\u2019re from when he owned his service station, after he became a master mechanic and then bought it from the original owner. He sold the service station to his own main mechanic two years ago, after Grandma died.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As I lay out a strand on the railing, Grampa turns to me. \u201cEddie, while I\u2019m connecting these to the extension cord, how about you get the last box of lights from the basement?\u201d Andy<\/em><\/p>\n [No. 624 \u2013 1\/17\/2020 \u2013 Copyright \u00a9 Andy McCommish 2020]<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0 ________________________________________ This was supposed to have been a Christmas issue, on December 25th. Obviously, that didn\u2019t happen\u2014the result of a family tragedy from which we\u2019re not yet fully recovered. Thanks for your patience. Here it is, as originally written for you. The story that follows is an excerpt from the manuscript of a full-length […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2555","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2555","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2555"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2555\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2558,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2555\/revisions\/2558"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2555"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2555"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/netcommissioner.com\/askandy\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2555"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI know, Grampa. It\u2019s just not the same without Grandma. But I\u2019m glad we\u2019re doing this,\u201d I say as we stretch a string of lights across his front porch railing. \u201cIt\u2019s gonna look nice when we\u2019re done. She\u2019d like it.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYes she would, Eddie. She and I did it together for\u2026what? More than fifty years, I reckon. I\u2019m sorry your mom and dad have to work today, but the good part is I get the best assistant I could imagine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I haven\u2019t been in Grampa\u2019s basement for several years, so I have to remember where things are. Wandering around in the dim light, I notice something that seems different; I don\u2019t remember it being here before. It\u2019s against the far back wall. I can see it only dimly because there are no lights on back there. Making sure not to trip on anything, I find my way to the back wall.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It\u2019s a big square thing; taller than me by a lot. It\u2019s got a couple of old blankets thrown over it. I\u2019m puzzled and curious, but I leave it alone. Grampa\u2019s pretty private; I guess that\u2019s where Dad gets it. But after I find the last lights, bring them up to the porch, and we string them on the other side of the porch railing, I take a chance.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 “Grampa, what\u2019s that big thing against the wall in the back of the basement?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat big thing?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThat thing with the blankets over it.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, that,\u201d he says, looking far away, like he can see over the horizon. \u201cIt\u2019s just something I thought I\u2019d try, but it didn\u2019t work out, so put it down there instead.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat is it?\u201d I persist.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Grampa sighs. \u201cWell, come on with me and we\u2019ll take a look,\u201d he says. So back to the basement we both go, and he tells me to pull the blankets off it. It\u2019s an upright piano, like the kind in the old western movies that Dad likes to watch.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCan I try it out, Grampa?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, no harm, I suppose. Go ahead, Eddie,\u201d Grampa says as he reaches behind some storage boxes and pulls up an old piano bench.
I flip up the curved key cover. Taking a seat on the bench, I try middle C, then a couple of chords and scales. The keys are ivory. It must be really old, because they\u2019re all yellow and a lot are cracked and chipped. But it\u2019s in tune and has a nice, mellow sound.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cCan you play it, Grampa? Do you have any sheet music?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNope. Never needed \u2018em, Eddie.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHuh?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI play by ear. Whatever I hear, I remember. And once I hear it, I can play it. I\u2019ve never figured out how that happens, but it does.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo, can you play this?\u201d I ask him, as I play the first measures of Beethoven\u2019s \u201cF\u00fcr Elise.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He gives me a small smile. His eyes soften. \u201cOf course I can play that. It was your grandmother\u2019s favorite piece.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I move over a little so he can sit next to me on the bench, and he plays it all the way through, gently and as beautifully as I\u2019ve ever heard it played.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHow\u2019d you learn that?\u201d I ask him.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMy own father had an old record, and after I heard it, even though that record was really scratchy, I just sat down and played it, simple as that.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhen you were a kid?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYup. My father played, too, and he let me play whenever I liked. But that piano was lost in the fire we had when I was about eight or nine. I never really played much again until I married your grandma.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve never heard this story. Can you tell me about it?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, I enlisted in the Army right after high school and stayed in for four years. Your grandma wanted to get married first, but I wouldn\u2019t do that, even though I loved her like crazy, just like I had all though high school.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThis was way back in the late fifties, just a few years after Elvis Presley was inducted, and…\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cElvis who<\/em>?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cElvis Presley\u2014the king of rock n\u2019 roll, o’ course!\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSorry, Grampa. Never heard of him.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, never mind. Ancient history, just like me. Anyway, my unit stayed stateside. We weren\u2019t sent to Lebanon when they had their political crisis over there and Ike\u2014that\u2019s President Eisenhower\u2014had to send troops. At least you\u2019ve heard of President Dwight D. Eisenhower, I hope?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYeah, Grampa. He\u2019s in our history books.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, he sent a bunch of troops to Lebanon, to help the government there. It was a small war, but it was a shooting war, and I lost some of the high school buddies I\u2019d had\u2014we all had enlisted together. I lost some more pals in the early sixties, when President Kennedy started sending Special Forces to Vietnam. But, for better or worse, I wasn\u2019t in one of those units. There\u2019s still a part of me that haunts me every now and again. It\u2019s a feeling that never goes away. I should have been there with my high school buddies and not sitting on my ass, stateside. But that\u2019s another story for another time\u2026 Anyway, I was discharged in sixty-two. Your grandma, God bless her, had waited for me.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo as soon as I got out, Annie and I got married, and within that first year your dad was born. We didn\u2019t have a lot of money. I was just an apprentice mechanic starting out, and your grandma, being pregnant, stayed home. That\u2019s what most wives still did back then\u2014not like today. We had a little apartment in town, near the gas station where I worked, and…\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIs that the one you bought from the first owner, Grampa?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThe very same, but that was about ten years later. Anyway, we couldn\u2019t afford a record-player or any fancy stuff like that, but some neighbors down the street wanted to get rid of their piano. They were willing to give it to anyone who\u2019d haul it away for them. So I rounded up a couple of buddies and sure enough, we rolled it down the street and humped it up the stairs to where your grandma and I were living.\u201d
\u201cBut how did you know you could still play it?\u201d I ask.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, I knew I could play it, all right. There was a baby grand at my school. I\u2019d sneak into the music room any chance I got, and tinkered around with it. Found out I could still play just about anything I heard.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo what happened to the one you brought home?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, I played it for years. If you ask your dad, he\u2019ll remember. I played a lot in those early days, before we got a hi-fi and a TV and all. But then, after I bought the gas station, I didn\u2019t have much free time anymore. I\u2019d still play for your grandma every now and again. She loved it. Especially some old stuff you\u2019ve never heard of, like Hoagy Carmichael\u2019s \u2018Stardust\u2019 and \u2018Georgia on My Mind,\u2019 and some Gershwin show tunes and such, and your grandma\u2019s favorite, \u2018F\u00fcr Elise\u2019.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat happened to that piano? In all the times I visited with you and grandma, I never remember seeing a piano anywhere.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, I sold it a long time ago. We were never poor, Eddie. Poor\u2019s a state of mind, anyway. But there were times we were pretty broke. One of those times was when your dad wanted to go to college, to be an engineer. I said okay \u2018cause, after all, he was one smart student\u2014smart as a whip. But tuition was pretty steep and I didn\u2019t want him taking college loans. College loans put you way behind the eight-ball the second you graduate. All through college he worked two jobs\u2014one at the gas station and the other as a salesman at Sam Siegel\u2019s Sport Shop, where he got a small commission as well as hourly pay. To help him out, I sold a couple of things, and one of them was the piano.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cDidn\u2019t you miss it?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOh, yeah, you bet I did. And Grandma missed it even more. But your dad deserved a shot at a better life. Your grandma and I never regretted that decision, not for a minute.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo, what\u2019s this one doing here, then?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, after your grandma died, this was a pretty empty house. So I thought, maybe a piano might bring some life back into this old place. I found a used piano for sale in the local paper. I went to see it, liked its sound, and bought it for a good price. I didn\u2019t make any big fuss about this because it was sort of an experiment and I wasn\u2019t sure it would work or not.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo it didn\u2019t work, I guess. What happened, Grampa?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIt just wasn\u2019t the same. I most always played for your grandma. Now, I played for nobody. So within that first week a couple of old friends and I moved it down here.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cBut still, you played for yourself\u2026 Didn\u2019t you?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNot the same thing, Eddie. You see, that first piano was a sort of connection between your grandma and me. Sometimes we\u2019d be on the outs with each other. This happens, Eddie, even when two people love each other the way we did. But that first piano always brought us back.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYour grandma might get in a snit, or I\u2019d get ticked off at something, and we wouldn\u2019t talk. But after a little while, I\u2019d sit down and start playing. And Annie would quietly come and sit beside me on the bench. She\u2019d put her arm around my waist and her head on my shoulder, and we\u2019d just sit there together. I\u2019d play gently and she\u2019d listen just as gently. That piano got us through some rough spots\u2014maybe even saved our marriage\u2014dozens of times over the years.”
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cBut you and grandma never had an argument that I ever remember. And neither do Mom and Dad. They\u2019ve never once been angry with each other!\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cOf course they have, Eddie. I know that for sure, because your dad and I used to talk about it sometimes.”
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, they never argued that I ever saw.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThen they made a big mistake with you, Eddie.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMistake? How?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cPeople get miffed, or sometimes angry, with each other from time to time. Even your parents. It happens. And it\u2019s okay to show it. And work through it. If you don\u2019t, it just sits there and becomes a bigger and bigger gulf between two people. They don\u2019t mean for that to happen, but it does. Or it gets buried, and that\u2019s even worse, because it\u2019ll come back meaner and uglier next time, and you can\u2019t predict when. So the best way to handle it is to let it out, even if they\u2019re parents and their kids\u2014like you\u2014are around.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cBut why?\u201d I ask. \u201cI don\u2019t want to see Mom and Dad fight.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 “Fighting\u2019s different. That\u2019s not healthy. But having differences, and letting it show, can be a good thing.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cGood? How\u2019s that, Grampa?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWell, Eddie, how are you ever going to learn how to deal with anger, and resolution, if your parents don\u2019t show you how? Unless you get to see that even people who love each other can get angry with each other sometimes, you\u2019ll never see how to cope with it, and never get to see how to work through it. You won\u2019t get to see that love doesn\u2019t come to an end just because two people may sometimes not agree.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI never thought of it that way before.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cNo, I guess you didn\u2019t. But that\u2019s alright. I\u2019ll have a little chat with your dad. He and I still do have father-son talks, you know. In the meanwhile, this is just between you and me, okay?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSure, Grampa,\u201d I say. But I\u2019m still feeling uncomfortable, so I change the subject.
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cHow about Christmas songs? Have you tried playing any of those?\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYup. I sat down here, just like we\u2019re sitting now, last Christmas. But, like I said, with no one else in the house, it just wasn\u2019t the same. But I still come down here every so often and just sit on this bench. I don\u2019t have to play. All the tunes and all the memories come back all by themselves.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI know \u2018Jingle Bells.\u2019 Would it be okay if I played it for you?\u201d
Grampa nods and so I play it, and then he and I play it as a duet. Then, sort of caught up in the moment, we share playing \u201cThe First Noel,\u201d and \u201cO Come All Ye Faithful,\u201d and then \u201cWhite Christmas.\u201d
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 We end with \u201cSilent Night,\u201d and after the last notes drift away in the dim light we sit together in a glow that\u2019s all our own. Grampa puts his arm over my shoulder. I lean my head against his chest. We sit there for a long while. There\u2019s no need to talk.<\/p>\n