O’ Happy Day!

Old men and their Suburu Foresters. You gotta love ’em

O’ Happy Day!

Cenelli pulled his aging Forester into the driveway and waited. He kept his hands on the wheel, his fingers tapping, keeping time to the rapid beating of his heart.

O’ Wondrous Happy Day!

He’d worked in secret for so long and today was the day!

Many times good neighbor Andy came over and asked how Cenelli was doing since Effie passed.

“Doing fine. Working on something special in the basement.”

Each time Andy asked about the special project Cenelli winked. “It’s a secret.”

Andy smiled and nodded. He’d invite Cenelli over for a game of cards or some ice tea. Andy’s wife Betty made her ice tea just sweet enough to give you a good, shivering chill on these hot summer days.

“Betty’s asking for you, Ed. You should come over for dinner sometime.”

“Can’t. Working on something special. It’s a secret.”

It took a bit of doing.

 
Andy and Betty were frequent guests when Effie was alive. Cenelli gave Andy a tour of his basement workshop once.

Andy looked around like a kid in a candy store, his eyes almost as wide as his smile as he pointed to each of Cenelli’s tools. “What’s the name of that? What’s that one do?”

Cenelli made a weathervane out of scrap metal while Andy watched.

“I never knew what a tool and die maker did. This is amazing. Betty,” he called up the stairs, “you’ve got to see what Ed can do.”

All those years talking to Effie, asking her advice, taking her suggestions, talking to her picture after she passed — Effie explained that Andy wouldn’t understand what Ed had done, that he should take his project on the road, do something special to get someone interested.

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Man and Boy; Tennessee, 1932

It’s better to be wise than rich

“Boy, what you straining with?”

“Don’t know, pa. It’s fighting me, though. It’s fighting me.”

“Look at that pole bend. Ease up a bit, boy. Give it some slack. See? Your pole’s not twitching. Whatever it is, it’s not fighting you, it’s dragging. Maybe something crawling on the bottom.”

“But it’s coming, pa.”

“Want me to take her for a spell?”

“I’d like that, pa.”

“Give it some slack before we switch poles. Something that heavy, you got to work slow, might have to get upstream of it to pull it in without snapping the line.”

“Look, pa. There it is. I see it.”

“Damn thing’s in the glare of the sun. What is it? Can you see? Feels like some bottom grass. Pity if we can’t loose the line.”

“It’s a man, pa. A black man.”

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