First the memory. It started with my daily visit to A Grateful Heart. Last Friday, Shawie posted a story about a woman who was a friend of her family. It’s a story worth reading. I lingered on Shawie’s blog as I thought about what I had read. Soon I was thinking of an old fellow I knew when I was a child. Let me share that memory with you.
Young man with a crutch that was used over a hundred years ago.
The photo is not of the man I remember. I can picture him only in my mind. It was the late 1940s and early 1950s. He did use a crutch just like the one in the picture.
He was a tall old man, and he walked with a crutch. He had lost his right leg below the knee in World War I. When I would see him walking into town or returning home afterward, he’d walk so fast with long strides that a normal man couldn’t walk and keep up with him. In winter and cool weather he wore a woolen great coat over a flannel shirt and denim britches.
He was Mr Cleaver. That’s what folks called him. I’m sure it was out of respect for the price he paid in “The War to end all Wars.”
Mr Cleaver lived around the corner from us and about a mile up the road. And I do mean up. He lived at the top of the hill where the roads makes a sharp turn.
He lived in what appeared to be a small barn. One side had huge barn doors, and a small regular door was on the other. He lived alone in that side. It looked like it was meant to be a work shop. His bed, table and a single chair filled the space. It was a very simple setup.
I asked my mother once what Mr Cleaver did. She replied, “Oh, he’s a hermit.”
When Thanksgiving came, mother prepared a plate with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, yams and on a second plate a piece of her famous apple pie. She instructed me to take it to Mr Cleaver.
“What Shall I say?” I asked. She said, “Tell him your mother thought he might like this today, and Happy Thanksgiving.” I had seen Mr Cleaver from time to time, but not often. He was never mean nor cross, but he had little time to return a friendly greeting. I took the food to his house.
His house was in an apple orchard that was surrounded by a fence. There was a large farm gate in front of the barn/house. Beside the gate was an old fashioned stile. We didn’t see many of these in Michigan, but there it was. A set of stairs that went up and over the fence and back down. Neat!
I approached the door and knocked. A voice inside said, “Come in.” I went in and saw him sitting in his bow-back chair. Like him it was old, and the finish had long since worn off. I said, “Hello. My mother thought you might like this today.” He looked up with tired and sad eyes and said, “Your mother is a wise and perceptive woman. Please thank her for me.”
I don’t remember any further conversation. In fact, I only saw him a couple of times after that. I feel sad to think of the man who had been a soldier. Once proud and brave, but then broken and alone in the world. Through it all he kept his dignity.
Updates:
Water Polo tournament
The EK Falcons lost in the first round of the regional tournament. That means that they are not going to the state tournament and their season is now over. They did, however, win in the subsequent two rounds and so they came in fifth. Briana did her part and we are very pleased at this years results. They lost a lot of players (like Kayleigh and Gretchen) at the end of last year. This year, the losses to graduating seniors is small. We’re hoping for a real good season next year.
Sylvia’s Dad
Sylvia talked with him on Sunday. Leon is doing better and has some meds to take. Hopefully, he will take them and not decide that he “doesn’t need them.” He expects to return home on Monday. Thanks for your prayers.
