TWO MEN

 I know an older man who has been around the area for a long time. He grew up in the Ball Camp community, went to the elementary school when it was grades 1-8. Like all the boys he grew up with, he played baseball, basketball, and football, although he wasn’t a star in any of them.   

After working for a long time, he finally retired. Before long, boredom set in, and he looked for part-time jobs to take up his time. None of the jobs paid much, but his retirement kept him comfortable enough. The work was to keep him busy and healthy both physically and mentally.  

I’m not sure what caused it or when it happened, but one day I saw him, and he’d changed. The youth that peeked out from his eyes disappeared. The wrinkles seemed more deeply furrowed into his forehead, and his face now had a fleshier look. His neck was skinny, but the flesh had lost its elasticity, just like old guys.  

Worst of all, he said he felt old. Aches and pains constantly hit him in joints and bones and tendons. The loss of what little strength he once had caused frustration. Doing things that used to be so easy became difficult, and the workhorse he once was now had turned into an old mule that could do no more than half of what he once did.  

No matter how the man tried to keep a good outlook on his life and aging, bitterness and sadness too often surfaced. He always said “I used to...” as his head shook in disbelief. The realization that the years in front of him were few compared to the ones that had already passed stunned him. No, he wasn’t afraid to die; his belief in a place better than anything he could imagine was strong. Still, unfinished business ate at him. The things to learn and accomplish were so many that he realized not enough time was left on this planet.  

His delight came from his family and friends. He loved his wife, children, and grandchildren. Being with them contented his uneasiness. His relationship with his maker and church also made each day a little easier to bear. Those good times only dimmed when he acknowledged that some day they would go on without him.  

In contrast to this grouchy, hateful man was a young man whom I’ve known since his arrival on this world. He’s one of those persons who never acts his age. Instead, he is a perpetual teenager who recalls the not-to-distant past events, both good and bad. He laughs at the goofy things he did as a youth, and sometimes, he sheds a tear for the losses of family members or broken-hearted romances. For the most part, high school years were times for being immature.  

He loved college because for the first time in his life he was on his own, and it was in those classrooms that he discovered a real interest in English, history, social sciences, and responsibility. As much as he loved home, he felt most comfortable in his dorm room, a place that he could call his own. 

This young man married, but he and his wife waited for a few years before having children. When they came along, those little people stole his heart. He had one of each-a boy and a girl- and declared that it a third kind existed he wanted no part of it. He tried to be a good father, but to tell the truth, he wasn’t. Oh, he put forth the effort, but his temper flared, and his impatience stormed.  The man had no idea how to be a good father because his had died when he was just a boy. Over the years, he loved those close to him, and he did what he thought was best. Hopefully, his children wouldn’t be traumatized as adults.  

This young man enjoyed his own family, and he also felt the same for his mother and brothers. It took him a long while to understand that loving one didn’t mean giving up the other.  

In case you haven’t already guessed, I am both of these men. Being the age that my Papaw was at his end is shocking. I might be able to work from the morning until about 2:00 p.m., but after that, the time comes for me to lean back in the recliner with Sadie lying on my legs and snooze for a while. I must admit that even as a senior citizen, my mind is still not much different than that of a high school graduate. I suppose that’s one way to stay young, although many times I wind up looking foolish. However, at this age, I don’t much care what others think of me.  

 

THE SNOW DID RETURN

 It snowed. I’d about decided that we humans had screwed up the environment so much that snow would never fall on East Tennessee again. I’m glad to see I was wrong. 

 

At our house, I took my tape measure and stuck it in the white stuff Monday evening. It hit the ground about ten inches down, and the snow increased its intensity as it fell from the cloudy sky. I wondered if the area was in for another 1993 event.  

 

No one should think that I’ve changed my mind and now love the stuff. The feeling of being trapped still brings on anxiety. Years ago, I was afraid of running out of smokes, but quitting that habit has erased that fear. Boredom also sets in quickly when the only thing to do is watch television or read something. The frigid temperatures keep me from any project outside, and working on mowers or woodworking projects aren’t comfortable in our unfinished basement.  

 

I don’t worry about bread, milk, and eggs, so neither Amy nor I made a mad dash to the store. If our children were still little and at home, things might have been more alarming. Instead, we can eat the items we already have in the house.  

 

I recalled the snow days we had when Lacey and Dallas were young. He even called me before the snow began and asked if I would pull him down our icy road on the giant coal scoop my older brother once used to fill the coal furnace at home. I laughed as I thought of pulling a son larger than I am on that shovel. 

 

During my teaching years, I was caught at school on one occasion when the snow hit suddenly. Buses began running routes, but the roads quickly became treacherous. The drivers stopped at the high school and dumped elementary and middle school students. The youngest were terrified to be in a place where they’d never been before. I finally made it home at 10:00 p.m. when the last student was taken home by volunteers with four-wheel drive vehicles.  

 

During graduate school, the most remembered ice storm hit. I was in night class, and by the time the professor dismissed us, driving on the roads was impossible. Until 3:00 p.m. the next day, I wandered between the building in which the class was held, the Krystal, and the motel behind it. Even driving out of the parking lot proved difficult with a thin coat of ice covering the asphalt. Another hour and a half were spent navigating the roads home as I dodged abandoned and wrecked vehicles and creeped across black ice.  

 

My plan was to stay inside and watch the snow come down. My dog Sadie had different plans. At least half a dozen times, she barked and barked until I took her outside. Since the day we rescued her, the dog has loved the snow. She turns into a pup and runs, jumps, and plays. Sadie plunges her entire head into the deep snow and sniffs for only God knows what before scooping a mouthful of snow to chomp on. Finding a place to take care of business was difficult for her. The dog hates for the wet ground or deep snow to touch her bottom as she relieves herself.  

 

Once inside, wiping the ice and moisture from her feet, legs, and bellies takes a few minutes. Then she’s ready for a treat and a long nap, after which she goes through the same routine. On a couple of occasions, her quick sprinting almost dumped me into the snow. Those times outside with her reminded me of dealing with my own children when they were toddlers. The big difference was my age and ability to control a muscle-bound mutt. Still, I love the dog as if she were one of my children, and her spoiled acts are my fault. Besides, walking around in the deep snow was fun and brought back plenty of good memories.  

 

The snow has ended, but a deep freeze is predicted for tonight. I’m ready for the sun to come out and clear the roads so that I can get on with my life. Yes, I liked “Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening,” but now the things I want and need to do are calling me back.