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Show 27-3 As I crossed the street, I heard a pounding from the backyard. Grandfather was standing in the middle of a pile of wood, the feeble afternoon sun all around him. "Hiya, Annie." He waved. "Hi, Grandpa. What are you making?" "Oh," he waved at the mess around him, "I thought I'd prop up the tool shed a bit. It's real wobbly. Probably because that dog of yours," now he waved at Fidelio who panted at my heels, "thinks it's his doghouse. To sleep on." We both turned to look at the shed. It was leaning to the left a lot. "Paul made that. The summer after high school. Handy boy with a hammer." He began to pound again. "Paul?" I dropped my bookbag on a board and sat down beside it. "I didn't think Paul liked to work like that." Grandfather stopped working. Sure he did. Why he was handy about the house. Repaired a lot for your dad. ' He set the hammer down and sat across from me. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He must have forgotten how cool it was. "Especially good with wood. He loved to feel a smooth, cool piece of wood." Grandfather smoothed the board he sat on with the handkerchief. He chuckled suddenly. "Do you know, Annie, how much Paul would have hated tomorrow? He always made fun of parades and bands and speeches. Thought they were a grand waste of time. And now, one is to be held in his honor. How he'd laugh." He chuckled again. "Now mind me, Annie. Don't tell your grandmother I said that. Tomorrow is a sacred thing for her. She wouldn't want to know I'd been laughing about Paul He waited a moment. "Some things she's better off not knowing." I looked at him and he was looking at me. Then he nodded slowly. "Better off." |
