Over The River And Through The Woods (Pt 1)

Seconds seemed like minutes as I looked down the road for the family station wagon to drive into the school parking lot. Friday was the day that my parents took my brother, two sisters and me to visit my grandparents and I couldn't wait to see them! The old wagon finally arrived and I quickly jumped into the backseat.

Without delay, we all broke out into a chorus of the old traditional song “Over the River And Through The Woods”. After about 14 verses of that, we went on to playing “Punch Bug”. For those of you that have not had the pleasure of playing this classic road trip game, you are in for a real treat and a sore arm. The object was to find a Volkswagen Beetle and then punch your competitor in the arm before they got to you first.

The tempo of the ride seemed to always pick up after a few games of “Punch Bug”. My oldest sister would start giving me dirty looks as I stuck my tongue out at her. I always thought I knew how far I could push my sister before she would start yelling at me but I never seemed to get it right. My father, in his stern voice would dish out the punishment for my sister and me for fighting with each other.

As he spoke, I hoped and prayed that it would not be the punishment that I hated the most. Making my sister and I embrace each other for fifteen minutes and telling her that I loved her was the ultimate in punishment in my mind. I would have rather walked on hot coals or gone without eating for a couple of days. To my surprise, my father had changed the punishment this time. Holding my sisters hand for 20 minutes seemed a bit easier than the hugging thing so I felt somewhat relieved.

The forty-five minute ride came to an end as we pulled into the driveway. I couldn't run any faster as I ran up the steep hill to the house that my grandparents had lived in for decades. Up on the porch and through the doorway to the kitchen I went. It was just as I had expected, my grandmother standing by the stove cooking a meal. She looked up and smiled. Her blues eyes were sparkling as she said, “Well, hello there”.

Words cannot describe how much I loved to see my grandmother. I believe in angels and she is one of them. I have never heard my grandmother even whisper a hurtful word about anyone no matter how bad the person was. My grandparents were poor farmers for many years. My father would tell me about how difficult it was growing up, especially at Christmas time.

My Dad dreaded his school teacher making each person in his class stand and tell everyone in the room what Santa Claus had brought them for presents. Dad was faced with the decision of lying or telling the truth about his present. The two oranges he got couldn't compare to the new bicycle or toy truck his peers had received. What my dad and his siblings lacked in material things was made up in the love that my Grandmother showed them.

I continued though the kitchen area and into the living room to see my grandfather. He was sitting in his armchair watching television. His eyeglasses rested on the bridge of his nose and he appeared to be half asleep. “Hi Pap”, I said as I began to sit down on the couch. My grandfather reached out and grabbed the back of my leg and squeezed it. I jumped into air kicking as he chuckled.

The rest of the family settled in living room to watch a television show. This was a special treat because we didn't have a television at home. My attention would drift away from the cowboy movie I was watching to listen to my Pap tell about the gigantic whitetail deer he saw while working in his garden earlier in the day. To be continued.... JN

Sources: Image is my own