Grandma's Hike
The Source
The menu never varied: 3 bottles of Orange Crush soda, 6 oatmeal cookies, and one bottle opener, all carefully placed in a brown paper bag then placed in my tiny hands. It was my job to carry our snack as my grandma would lead my brother and I out the door and across the pasture. It was the most sublime of summertime rituals… a walk with grandma to the woods on the far end of the farm. The rules were simple: no eating until we’d reached the black oak log beside the creek, and if you forgot the bottle opener you’d get mighty thirsty. Note: two pre-school boys and an elderly grandmother cannot pry loose a bottle cap in the woods, no matter how many sticks, branches, and rocks are broken in the process. Note two: my grandpa could take the cap off with this thumb. I’ve seen him do it. There’s a lot to be said for corn-shucking thumbs. We’d open the gate to the pasture, make a diagonal for the cornfield gate, and then head to the woods, all the while keeping a wary eye on Grandpa’s Hereford Bull. He was blind in his left eye (The bull that is. Grandpa was fine.) and it was suicide to approach the creature from his blind side. He was like an aunt I knew… it was okay to approach her as long as she saw you coming. We’d walk what seemed like forty miles to a pair of legs that weren’t very long until we found our “secret spot” down the creek. Frankly, I don’t remember a thing we chatted about, but I can remember the details of the log, the refreshing tang of Orange Crush on a young tongue, and the delight in eating an oatmeal cookie in an idyllic setting that didn’t complain at all if you dropped a crumb or two. Grandma would check the depth of the creek, the greening of the summer trees, and the number of butterflies whipping around this season while my brother and I learned to skip rocks, shanghai toads, and get about as dirty as our grandmother could abide. Then we’d put the empty bottles back into the sack and trudge back happily across the fields, hoping that Grandpa’s bull was grazing against the far fencerow. I’ve been reminded much of those youthfully heady days recently as my Lincoln Land students have traveled to Knollwood Retirement Village to log nearly a hundred hours interviewing some of Jacksonville’s most delightful citizens. Although the ultimate goal is to weave these tales into a play, the immediate benefit has been even more profound. Each day when the interviews are finished, my students climb onto the bus chattering about what they’ve just heard… “He said he could shuck 85 bushels of corn a day! What’s that mean?” “She told us a joke that we can’t put in the show!” “Seven kids! How does anybody raise seven kids during the Depression without a husband in the house?” “He said that Knollwood was full of nice people, but nothing would ever take the place of having his wife with him.” “She told the same story three times and it got better every time!” “Did you know the Mac Murray girls had to wear hats all day on Sunday?” Again and again, each new day of interviews brings a cascade of new revelations, fascinating stories of hardship, hilarious tales of making do, and heart-breaking sagas of growing up in hard times. In short, the students get an education…an awakening… that no textbook could ever provide. Which is why I think much of Grandma and that trip across the pasture as I see the young interviewers huddle happily onto a Knollwood sofa with an elderly resident. I’d always promised Grandma that we’d take one more trip across the pastures to sit on the log and drop our crumbs of oatmeal. Then…well…things came up… I got a driver’s license, I got a girlfriend, I joined a rock band…I got…well, busy. And forgive the Disney-ending-gone-bad, but we never took that trip. She was gone before I got around to it. After each Knollwood session the students write an entry in our Internet blog, talking about their day of interviews. From a junior girl’s entry. “I had no idea. I just had no idea. I mean, those people know a lot more than I do and they’re so sharp! I couldn’t believe it! I never knew my own grandma and actually I was afraid that we wouldn’t have much to talk about. Boy, was I wrong! They’re not only people just like me but they’re so darned cool!” Know anybody who needs a visit? But I warn you…don’t do it for them. Do it for yourself. They’re so darned cool!