CHAPTER 1
THE WISH
The town is a small southern town, maybe average size, withplenty of soft southern sunshine. It's one of those towns whereeverybody knows everybody. Almost, as if it were nestled in alittle valley forgotten by time, where keeping a secret is next toimpossible.
A quaint little breeze blows through the trees and flower gardensas a train whistle bellows lonesome in the distance. Looking aroundat the buildings was like looking back into the past. They wereold and ancient, but still looked pretty good. Folks around heretake a lot of pride and patience in preserving things. People arealways tinkering and patching, adding a little new with the old, andsomehow still managing to keep the old down home friendly face.It's a kind of laid back, slower look at life sort of place.
The old two room school house was fixed up pretty nice andwas made into a museum. The train depot is simply grand too.There's always something interesting to look at there. Just standinginside, you can almost hear the echoes of time moving all aroundyou. Makes you want to stop and listen as your mind wonders howthings were back then. Stepping outside next to the tracks you canalmost hear the conductor as he yells, "All Aboard!"
Yep, things are pretty neat around here, but my favorite placeis the old ball stadium. It's not like the fancy stadiums nowadays.It starts just beyond first base, circling home plate, and goes justbeyond third base. It's made mostly of oak and hickory boardsas wide as home plate. It's about fifteen or twenty rows of seatsreaching up toward the sky with a tin roof stretching out over thecrowd to keep the sun off.
You can stand on the field and look toward home plate andpretend you are in a big league park. It is one of my favorite placesto bring a lunch and sit in the shade listening to the boards pop andcrack. Sometimes, if it was hot enough, the boards popped so loud itsounded like a bat hitting a ball. The howling of the breeze throughthe cracks sounded like the cheer and chatter of the crowd. Somefolks say it's the ghosts of fans and ballplayers still having fun.
It was always fun to look at all the hearts, with initials carved inthem, to see who loved who throughout the years. Hee, Hee! Overin the corner is Dad's name, but mine is in the other.
Yes, this is a nice little town. We even have a town dog, oldJoe. He sleeps on the corner at the busiest crosswalk in town. He'sbeen there for years waiting on the school kids, looking for a paton the head or a leftover lunch. He's probably eaten more peanutbutter and jelly sandwiches than a bread truck could carry away.
The ice cream parlor on the corner is probably the busiest placein town. I believe every kid in town has used the old parking meterin front for a merry-go-round. I did, and still do from time to time.The concrete around the base has just about had all it can stand.That old meter is about as wobbly as a one legged duck on ice.It doesn't work anymore. It's had the same penny stuck in it fordecades. I believe everybody in town has had their pocket knivesin it trying to get it out. They say lightning struck it back in thethirties welding everything together. It's the only meter in townnow and has become more like a historical marker.
I've often heard the old men in town talk of the lightningaround here; near misses, strange happenings, unexplained eventsthat no one was able to figure out. Talk as if the lightning had amind of its own and eyes that look right into yours and could seeyour thoughts. As if its strands of light were fingers caressing anobject it admired, like a kid in a toy shop. There was also thathaunting laugh that no one had an explanation for. All kinds of talesand stories that kept a little boy sitting on the edge of his seat, witheyes and mouth wide open and his head under his pillow when astorm is coming.
I guess every town has had its moments or events that throughtime have been added to making mountains out of mole hills. Itsure makes for a good conversation, like the saying, "Believe It OrNot."
I see an old man in his late sixties, still able to walk unassisted,taking short choppy steps almost sliding his feet at times. His bodystooped with age and fingers that cannot bend enough to really gripanything tight. He looks like he might have been stout as an oaktree when he was in his prime.
He had worked hard all his life starting at an early age, workingon other people's farms and in the hot noisy factories. He put inmany a shift inside the earth digging coal. In those days, a manearned his money with a pick, a shovel, and the strength in hisback. Yes, looking at him now, time and hard work have taken theirtoll.
The lines run deep across his brow. His skin is dry andcalloused, feels and looks like ancient leather. He often spoke ofthose days as if each day or event had a name, especially the onesthat left a scar or special notch on his memory.
The old man is my dad. He lives with me now since mom died.Like most old folks, he's cantankerous and doesn't like to takeorders from little whipper-snappers like me. He said I hadn't livedlong enough to know anything, even if I was next to forty.
I'd listen to his stories of life and the "what I should havedones" and the "if a man could haves" with open ears, even thoughI'd heard them a hundred times. There was always a little advicealong the way. I tried not to let on like I was listening to that. Iguess I just wanted to hoe my own row without any help. Lookingback, that advice has been worth its weight in gold.
Today it seems the stories have taken on a whole newatmosphere; Kind of strange and chilling, but yet like a still calm, asmooth and sweet feeling. When a person gets used to something,it's always there; like a house, a tree, or a mountain. Then therecomes a day when for no reason it just looks different. Today wasthat day for me. I'd always looked up to him. He was my hero!Today for the first time in my life, he looked like an old man, tiredand worn, beaten down by time.
It was Sunday and he wanted to go down to the little park abouta half mile down the street. It was his favorite place to go, to sitfor hours in the cool breeze and shade. Just enjoying the beauty ofnature and recalling yesterdays.
There was a gazebo with a picnic table in it and benches alonga narrow path that winds around all through the park. There weretrees that took almost a dozen kids to reach around and a littlestream just big enough for small children to jump across. They hada good time cooling off. The smell of hotdogs and fried chickenwas always in the air.
It took him some time but he sat down on the grass in a clearingwhere he could see the children play. "The grass feels good here,"he said.
He seemed to get a lot of enjoyment from watching the kidsplay and giggle. There was a smile on his face and the look in hiseyes as if his mind was going back to another time. A time that wasgood in his life.
Getting out a cold drink and a piece of chicken from our picnicbasket, he said, "Nothing like Sundays and fried chicken.
Today seemed so slow, as if time was trying to stand still. Therush, rush, rush and hurry, hurry, hurry could not be found. Whatlittle noise there was seemed to be far off, barely able to be heard.Someone was ringing a church bell and it echoed throughout thewhole valley.
While we ate, we talked of the weather, old cars, some ofthe hot rods of his day. He talked about best friends, girl friends,baseball and Mom. A little boy caught a frog by the creek and wastrying to put it in his sister's hair.
"I remember doing that," he said. "Hee, Hee! Been there, donethat."
A few moments passed. The old man grew silent. "A penny foryour thoughts," I asked?
"You know, life and your job have a way of taking thingsfrom you or just simply passing you by. Pick and choose. Pickand choose. I've always hated that part of life," he said. "Somany days I'd like to have over again to change things if I could.So many things I'd like to do different; to take advantage of themoment. In all my years I have learned one thing; some things inlife are only once in a lifetime. If you miss that moment or thatspecial something, it's gone and gone forever. There are no secondchances. Yes, I missed my moments and those special somethings.It grieves my heart that I let it happen. Trying to provide for myfamily came first," he said trying to hold back the tears. He pressedhis lips together and looked down at the ground.
I looked in his face and saw a tear running down his cheek and hisstare was looking far off. For a moment, I could almost feel his heartbreaking. I just sat there not knowing what to say or how to comforthim. In his heart and mind, he truly had suffered a great loss.
Drying a tear from his cheek, he said, "I wish it was possible to havea wish, just one wish to come true. I would gladly give up tomorrowfor one more yesterday." From the look on his face I knew he meantit. "They say it's not good to dwell on the past," he said, "but I think ifa fellow took a closer look at the past it would make tomorrow mucheasier, perhaps. Yes, it would be a fair trade! He paused for a momentand said, "Tomorrow, for one yesterday? Yes I would! I would."
Curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask, "What day wouldyou trade for Dad?"
"Well," he said. "A long time ago I missed a baseball game.Probably the most important game there ever was. I let it slip rightthrough my fingers. I thought there would be another. I thought I'llgo to the next one, I'm too tired today. Boy was I wrong!"
Dad was a big baseball fan. He never got a chance to play much asa boy. He became a New York Mets fan after they won the sixty-nineWorld Series. "Those Mets," he said, "the youngsters trying to provethey belong, and the old men on the team ready for retirement playingtheir hearts out as if they were nineteen again. Playing like there wasno tomorrow. Giving the young guys a lesson on how playing fromyour heart can change things. The love for the game was definitelyon the field in that World Series! That's the way it should be played.That's the way it should be played everyday. That's baseball!"
As he talked, I just sat quietly listening. You could almost hearhis thoughts before he spoke.
"I love baseball!" he said. "My dad, your papaw, used to takeme down to the stadium," he laughed. "That's what we called it,but it was new then. Oh, and it was a dandy stadium indeed!" hesaid. As he talked of how things looked back then, you would havethought he was describing the Titanic with all its splendor.
He said, "Your papaw and me would come down after churchon Sundays to watch the semi-pro teams play. "Semi-pro," he said,guys that loved playing baseball anywhere from the age of fourteento fifty something. Those were the good old days in baseball. I canstill remember those old guys having the time of their lives stillpretending to be twelve years old again. Some of them were darngood ball players. It's sad they never got a chance at the majors.That old stadium was the place where they could come live theirdream; put on a uniform one more time."
Sitting there puzzled, I could not figure that one out! Tradingtomorrow for a ballgame! I thought Dad had finally lost all hismarbles. What a trade!
Looking out over the park with our bellies full of chicken andsoda pop, I could see a huge shadow approaching really fast; likea predator hovering and circling its prey. The wind started to pickup, putting a little chill in the air. Looking up, I could see this giantblack cloud starting to cover the park so low to the ground youcould almost reach up and touch it or get a piece in your hand. Thechildren were running for cover as the picnickers started to pack up.
"Looks a lot like rain this time Dad," I said.
"Let's get in the gazebo. It should pass soon," he said.
The trees started to sway as the wind got stronger and strongermaking the big oaks and maples pop and crack. Gushes of windcame over the hill like an army charging into battle to face the enemywave after wave. Then the wind started sweeping and swirling,twisting into a small funnel shaped tornado as it came dancing up thepath toward the gazebo. As I looked deeper into the swirl, I could seewith astonishment what looked like a face. A face of leaves, eyes thatcould stare you down, a nose and big smirking smile that just daredyou to speak. The howling wind started to sound more and more likea loud taunting laugh, frightening yet magical and mysterious.
Boom! A bolt of lightening just struck a mighty oak. Rippingthe bark open as it came shimmering down the tree and slowlydisappearing into the grass, leaving a trail of ash and smoke. Thenanother and another! I had never seen lightening strike so manytimes in one small place as if trying to put on a show.
"You ever see anything like this before Dad?" I asked.
"No sir I haven't!" he replied. "Nobody is gonna believe this!"
The rain started giving everything a reflective glassy lookwhen the lightening flashed. We stayed in the middle of the gazebohuddled against each other trying to stay dry. After about fifteenminutes the lightening calmed down and seemed to be over. Thenall at once, Zap, Zap, Boom! There were two bolts of lightening soclose together you could only hear one roar of thunder; a roar thatsounded like a horrible beast. One bolt of lightening passed rightthrough the gazebo, right in front of us. You could feel the heat asit passed. The other struck the top of the gazebo and the rain andlightening came pouring off the roof as we were surrounded in abeautiful electric waterfall. We watched in awe as we were caressedby the lightening inside the gazebo. It happened so quickly butit seemed to last forever. As we watched, things started spinningfaster and faster and faster.
"What's happening Dad," I yelled.
"I don't know son," he replied.
"I'm getting dizzy Dad, I'm getting dizzy!" I shouted.
"Me too, I think I'm going to pass out!" he said.
I could feel myself slipping away as I lay on the floor. My eyeswere wide open but all I could see was the spinning funnel. "We'vebeen struck by lightening," was my first thought. Are we going todie? Am I near death? Is Dad OK? Is there anyone around to helpus? A thousand thoughts ran through my mind as I tried to keep myconsciousness. I tried and tried to speak, but nothing would comeout. My body seemed to be paralyzed, unable to move. I soon lostthe battle of trying to keep my eyes open and I slowly drifted intototal darkness.
As consciousness finally overtook the darkness, lying on myback I could see a clear blue sky. The sun was shinning so brightand warm and the feeling in my hands and legs was coming back.To my surprise, I was lying on grass, and not in the gazebo. I washesitant to rise up to look around. I was afraid of the worst. I wasafraid of finding myself dead.
After a minute or so, I got the nerve to rise up about half wayon my elbows. As I tried to focus my eyes and look around, I couldsee I was in a pasture field. While I was lying there trying to figureout if I was alive or dead, a baseball rolled up against my leg. Thesound of laughter was in the air. I heard someone say, "You shouldhave caught that one." As I rose up I could see a man wearinga baseball cap and glove. He was laughing so hard I thought hewould bust.
"What a play!" he said.
"Get up," yelled the man, "no resting today. We got a game toplay."
"Play ball," he yelled.
I got up more puzzled than ever as I looked around. There werekids everywhere wearing ball gloves and hats. As I looked closer,the kids were so familiar. Why that's my brothers Elrod and Leon!Those other kids are the guys that used to live around us when wewere growing up.
By now things were starting to freak me out. Where was I?Why is everybody so young looking? I started turning around andI could see the house we lived in when I was a boy. There is thebarn and that old truck looks a lot like the one Dad drove. Thingswere getting stranger by the minute. I stopped for a second andslowly reached out my hands. As I looked at them, my heart almoststopped when I saw how small they were. I looked down at myclothes. I'm wearing a pair of bibbed overalls with a hole in theknee. I remember those because they were my favorite. They werebig and baggy on me but I loved them anyway.
Cautiously, I reached for my face. It was so soft and so smooth.I can't believe it! I broke out in a run toward the old truck as fast asI could go. Everybody was yelling "Come back! Come back! Playball!" I ran over to the truck and turned the mirror around to seemyself. Oh no! It can't be, it can't be! I was ten years old again!My heart was racing like a runaway train. It's me, but it can't beme! But it is me! The lightening killed me! No, I'm not dead, I'mjust dreaming! Wake up, wake up! Can't wake up, what am I goingto do?
