I'm not sure why, but I feel like crying. That was a wonderful story.
That one excels even Ambrose Bierce. Wonderful!
Some of us have ghosts that follow us a few steps behind; they are from the past and can only come so close. Maybe others lead but mine follow, or at most flank like Stonewall's cavalry scouts, but always with a purpose, a lesson, even a tease. The experience is a less startling this decade than previous, and leaves an unfillable pang of regret I cannot compare to anything.
Embrace your ghosts, if yours are like mine their emotions are tender.
As a boy, we lived poor -- but always helped the poorer.
Thank you for your shared memories in this wonderful ghost story.
Boy! Can I identify with this. I left home 53 years ago and only in the last ten have I made short trips back to visit my sister, old friends and a few cousins. I drag my wife to childhood haunts and revel her with my boring stories. And I find ghosts, sometimes long forgotten ghosts. What bothers me most is to go to a place that was significant in my life and it simply isn't there anymore. My parents house on 2 acres is gone and in it's place are four McMansions. My high school is still there but it isn't safe to get out of your car and walk around now. It is a strange mix of nostalgia, loss, anger and sadness. Friends have passed, things have changed. It is true, you can't go home again.
It was absolutely a beautiful story, with a beautiful ending.
Reminds me of my home at the same time and not far away from where you are Gerard. Brings back wonderful memories.
So lovely. Thank you for sharing.
When I was young, there was a new wonder every day; life exploding--loaded, fragrant. Entering late middle age I am not really surprised that this kind of wonder is almost vanished. What does surprise me is that there are still some new wonders, and that there are ghosts who teach me things.
Beautiful story and well told as usual.
BTW does anyone know if Happy Acres has opened shop anywhere else since tumblr shut him down? I really enjoyed his commentary and quirky pictures.
What a Dad. We never quite get Dad until years after he's gone, and it finally sinks in how cleverly he taught us so much.
Dads don't really keep secrets about the important things in life...it's just that it takes us quite a long time to really understand the purpose of Dads and what they left us.
Well, that clinched my blurry eyes up and trembled my lower lip until I smiled.
I'm so very glad you told us.
@Arty, Mr Happy Acres has decided to take some time off- he is blue about his soon-to-be empty nest. I told him he was missed.
That touched me, in part because three of the four homes I lived in as a boy with my family no longer exist. I have no choice but to remember what I can of them.
Thank you Leslie. I discovered H.A. through American Digest and both were regular stops for me. He is indeed missed. Wish him 'all the best' from me.
You got a lot more than silver dollars.
Simply, gloriously, beautiful. Thanks, Gerard.
Being haunted by kind spirits is earning a medal of honor.
Born and raised in Gettysburg where plenty of ghosts stir, I too moved away at age 11 (1966) and never yet returned. Maybe it's time....
HappyAcres was dumped? Was it his white privilege? Perhaps his blatant happiness with life. Or did he commit the ultimate sin of saying "blue lives matter"?
Some years back while traveling in Southern Europe my wife and I encountered a sketchy situation in a semi-public place with a guy who looked dangerous. He asked if we were American. I immediately remembered some advice I had gotten in the past and responded no, that we were Canadian, hey! He believed us and moved on.
Absolutely precious. Thank you.
@Gone WTW- I believe it was his posts about IQ and his general habit of "noticing", that got him kicked off tumblr. He was sent packing with no warning or explanation beyond, "Offensive" material.
Hey GWTW, what a coincidence. Every time any of my relatives went to Europe they encountered sketchy situations too. They were shot at and bombed the whole time they were there. I promised myself I'd never go.
Wow. Just started coming here. Now I'll be back, often. Brought me back 50 years to a similar story. Terrific writing.
Even knowing your writing as I do, I had to read it three times. Then, the tears came to my eyes. Beautiful.
Got me all misty again. Thank you.
Thanks for this. So lovely, and so lovely to share.
Thank you. I'm glad you got to go home again.
I haven't read anything so wonderful in a very long time, Mahalo.
My father was a very successful CPA, a mathematical wizard who had his own small corporation, with clients that ran throughout South Texas. I saw occasional glimmers of his back-channel generosity, confirmed by many only after his funeral, when he would secretly lobby his contacts throughout the area to grant jobs to promising young men, and his anonymous fund-raising efforts.
One of his many bon mots on this subject was his observation that when you return to find your childhood home, it's not your home that you are seeking, but your childhood.
My parents are gone, their home sold. I cannot go home again but often they come visit me.
This was beautifully done Gerard.
Wonderful, thanks Gerard.