The second book in a series, "Grover Always Said" tells the reader more about the life and times of Grover Cleveland Walborn, the premier story teller in Michaelville, PA during the author's childhood and young adulthood. Although Grover lived and died in the house he was in which he was born, and everyone in and around Michaelville knew him, there was an air of mystery about the man. "Grover Always Said" attempts to solve some of the mystery.
Grover Always Said
A Taste of the Good LifeBy Bob HullAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Bob Hull
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-4242-4Chapter One
9-16-2007
Dear Brenner and Shane,
I need your help to get an idea off the ground.
When the terrible events of 9-11-2001 happened, like a lot of Americans, I was angry. How could these so-called believers in God kill and maim so many innocent people and cause so much destruction? I spent most of 9-12-2001 trying to get back on active duty with the U.S. Army. Of course, with my age and health problems, I was turned down. I remember going to St. Ann's Basilica in Scranton, PA. I was too angry and too disappointed to pray so I just sat there in that big, cool, beautiful, old church. I don't know how long I sat there. Suddenly an idea popped into my head. In a flash I realized my anger at the hijackers and others like them and my disappointment in the Army's refusal to take me back on active duty weren't doing any good for anyone, including me. I decided to do something nice for someone, anyone, nothing spectacular, just some thing nice. Not just one time, I'd do something nice for someone every day. I've done just that every day since; and, where possible, I've asked that person to pass it on. I don't plan what I'm going to do in advance. Some days have more opportunities than others. In a long line of traffic, I'll let someone pull in front of me. In a restaurant, I'll buy a meal for a complete stranger. I make arrangements with the person's waitress, pay for the meal and leave the restaurant before the person does, leaving instructions for them to pass it on. They know only that someone bought their meal. They never know I was that someone. Sometimes, I see things you guys might like, so I buy them. Someone coined the phrase "Random Act of Kindness." That's what I mean, random or unplanned. But I'd like to add "Everyday." Random Act of Kindness Everyday which gives us the acronym RAKE.
On February 10, 1964, just before your Mother's fourth birthday, I went to work for the Prudential as an insurance agent. One of the people I worked with was a Claims Agent named Norman Rake. In the prime of his life Norm was stricken with polio which left him paralyzed from the waist down. Norm had every right to be angry. Instead, he was one of the nicest, most gracious people I have ever known. He always had a kind word for and about everyone. He went out of his way to be nice to people. He did a lot of favors for people he hardly knew.
So I need your help. Let's start a movement called RAKE, Random Act of Kindness Everyday. Talk to your Mom and Dad. Talk to your friends and teachers. Let's all try to make this world a kinder, better place for each other. Let's dedicate our efforts to all the Norm Rakes we've ever known.
Write soon.
Love and thanks, Grandpa
* * *
It was a hot lazy afternoon in late summer, right after the last bale of third crop alfalfa was put up in the hay mow, just before the first day of school. It was so hot that the checkers players and storytellers at A. J. Tull & Son General Store & U.S. Post Office moved outside to the front porch just in case a cool breeze might try to sneak through Michaelville, PA. Grover Cleveland Walborn was unusually quiet as he read the Lock Haven Express. In fact, Grover was so quiet some thought he might be feeling poorly. Grover just sat, arms outstretched, holding the Express wide open in front of him. Suddenly, Grover peeked over the top of the newspaper. "It says here," he began, "the Pope has eased the requirements on holy water. Catholics no longer have to get their holy water at church." I could see the twinkle in Grover's eyes that meant a good story was coming. And since he said "Catholics" I knew the story was for me because my family were the only Catholics in town. Grover continued, "It says right here, Catholics can now make their own holy water at home. All they have to do is take a pan of clean tap water, put the pan on the stove, turn the stove up to high and boil the hell out of it." Of course there were some who didn't know Grover was telling a story. They were the ones who leafed through the Express looking for the holy water story while Grover went inside the store to get a bottle of Nehi grape pop. But I didn't have to look at the Express. I knew it was a story, a darn good story. I had seen the twinkle in Grover's eyes.
* * *
Grover Cleveland Walborn told us his uncle went blind from drinking coffee. Grover's Uncle Link, A. Lincoln Walborn, always left the spoon in the cup.
* * *
According to Grover Cleveland Walborn one of the smartest personalities he ever met was Buster K. Hull, M.D. The K stood for Keaton. The MD stood for Male Dog.
Buster was a six-week-old bundle of fur with floppy ears when Kyle and I first saw him in late January, 1986 at the Lycoming County S.P.C.A. in Williamsport, PA. When the attendant brought him from his cage and put him on the floor, Buster walked briskly up to us, sat, and extended his right paw. He knew Kyle and I belonged to him right from the start. We completed all the adoption papers and took Buster home.
He was easy to train. From the beginning, Buster seemed to know he needed to conduct all personal business outside. We're fortunate to have a beautiful woods right behind our house. There's a paved path through the woods that makes walking enjoyable for both humans and canines. When we took Buster home from the S.P.C.A., after he had eaten and taken a nap, Kyle and I took him for his first walk through the woods. Buster had a lot of fun watching all the squirrels and birds. There must have been lots of glorious odors that only a puppy can smell. Of course, Buster met other dogs out for their constitutionals with their humans. One of Buster's favorite dog friends was a frisky, friendly Beagle named Kelly who was just a few weeks older than Bus'. Over the years Kelly and Buster ran many miles together through the woods and nearby fields. On our first walk, Buster discovered a cat hiding behind a bush near the Avis Elementary School. Every day for the next fifteen years Buster checked behind that bush but we never saw the cat again.
One of the best things a dog owner can do for himself and his pet is to enroll his dog in an obedience class. There are few things more enjoyable than a well-trained, well-behaved dog. There are both Basic and Advanced Courses. Some people train their dogs for Obedience Trials and Competitions. Kyle and I just wanted Bus' to be a nice puppy dog. So, when Buster was four months old, we enrolled him in a Basic Obedience class. There were twenty-four other dogs in the class, mostly Golden Retrievers, with a few German Shepherds, a miniature Poodle and an English Mastiff puppy who was a couple of months older and about a hundred pounds bigger than Buster. The big Mastiff became Buster's best friend in the class. Buster was not only the youngest dog in the group, but he was also the only mutt. The rest of the dogs in his class were all purebred, registered animals with pedigrees and papers a mile long. Each week Buster and Kyle and I learned something new. The course lasted eight weeks. At the End of Course Competition, Buster placed fourth. Not bad for a little mutt in the midst of all those pedigreed competitors.
To show our appreciation to Bus' for his efforts in the Basic Obedience Course, Kyle and I took him to a local drive-in theater to see an old...
