Harold And Phoebe

I often meet people who leave lasting and meaningful memories. Such is the case of Harold and Phoebe. One early morning forty years ago, I saw an elderly man standing in our driveway. He appeared to be a man of simple needs while possessing an outward gentle nature. He introduced himself to me.saying that he came to welcome our family to the “neighborhood.” He apologized for not bringing his wife Phoebe because she wasn’t feeling up to it. 

I was immediately drawn to him by his sincerity and childlike persona, and was eager to get to know him better. I asked him to sit awhile, but he insisted he needed to get back to ensure Phoebe was okay. As he was leaving, he invited me to come and visit him and Phoebe. They were living on the Tracy farm about half a mile from us. I offered him a ride, but he said he would much rather walk to enjoy the beautiful day and scenery that surrounded him. 

That Sunday, I took a walk to spend time with him and meet the wife that he had spoken so highly of. We sat on the front porch while I listened to the wonderful stories they weaved through a tapestry of  a time long ago. When our property was once a dairy farm that still sits on fertile soil that was settled on just after the Civil War. They never had children of their own, but I can only imagine that they would have been brought up in a family that centered around strong  Christian values. As time moved on we continued to “laze about”on the front porch enjoying the large array of delectable homemade desserts from Phoebe’s kitchen. Harold filled my head with intriguing stories of bygone days when seasons raced from spring to fall. His words opened up a new world that seemed to conquer time as though he was a factual book of knowledge. Every time I walked down those front steps I knew I just had to go back for more —  very soon and often.

Well, that very first day was the beginning of a friendship that would only last a few short years, but would become the sweetest and most loving memories I could ever have imagined. 

To Herald and Phoebe

It ought to be lovely to be old, to be engulfed in the peace that comes from experience and a wrinkled ripe fulfillment of life and love. Soothing old people should be like the farmers’ apples and the yellow, gold, and crimson leaves that dim with the stillness and satisfaction of Autumn. Your memories still live deep within my heart and soul.

Blessings,