Cricket201909

(Lars) #1

“Someyoungbear!”hejoked.
“Somedrop-off,”I saidweakly.
Granddadcuppedonehandbeneathmy
elbow,whichhelpedhimorientnowthatI
wasback.Wemovedtowardthescreened
porch,wherelanternlightshonethroughthe
summersnow,revealinga storyboardsetup
andsectionedwithpinsandstring.I’dbeen
wrongtothinkGranddadmightnotusea
mundanebearrub.He’dalreadybegun,and
it mademesmile.
Belowa boldslashoforange-barkedpine
tree,a blockyblackbearbumbleditsway
downa dark,impressionisticslope.A bear
wearingmyclothesandslidingonitsbottom.
HowhadGranddadknownI washis“bear”
crashingdownhill?Nodoubtaboutit.Blind,
GranddadsawmorethanI did,fullysighted.


Well,whoneededa campfire to spin a
storyidea?“Hey,Granddad, what if a young
bearwasrubbingagainsta tree because his
backwasitchy?”
Granddadconsideredit. Nodded.
Inspirationstruck.“So, maybe he’s
enjoying hisbackrubsomuch he falls
behind hisfriendsheading for the huckle-
berriesontheridgebelow. He hurries to
catchup.. .”
“... thenslipsandtoboggans downhill,
scoopinguphisanimalfriends as he goes!”
Granddad’ssightlesseyestwinkled. “And
afterthat... ?”
Afterthat, we’dspend the rest of our
weektogether, spinningmore ideas. Bring
onthenewnormal.We’re still a great
team.

TOO BAD ALEC
DIDN’T SEE A
B-B-B-B...

BEAR!
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