Grandpa Stories

By: Robin Knowles

Narrated by: Virtual Voice

Forty-some years ago, my parents read and recorded stories for my children. From time to time I listen to them. They’re still wonderful to hear. I like to write. As to reading aloud, maybe I too can…. These stories are for my grandchildren. Some are snips and snails boy-stories, some are sugar and spice little-girl stories, others are for teens or adults. Some of these stories – images really – photo-developed onto the fertile mind of a little boy – that would be me – like a photo-negative – a long time ago, yet the images continue to bubble and etch like acid on an old tombstone, even now. Others are less sinister – humorous snapshots. As to time and truth, these are just stories – stories with many small truths, but also many fictions. So that my skills of creating made-up stories don’t get confused with honest recollections, I use the names of my family members in true stories and fictitious name in the others. One of the sections describes three houses – three homes. I remember all three vividly. Imagine that you are a little boy. Now imagine that you are sitting in a plain grey wooden boat with your father. He’s fishing intently and he’s just explained to you that the twin rows of pilings going down into the cool forbidding dark black water once held a railroad with a train, and…. In your mind’s eye you see the steel rails that the train once rode on. On the other side of the pilings, a giant hulk of an old rusting locomotive lays on its side – barely under the surface of the black water. You can’t see it, but it’s there in your mind. Underneath the locomotive are the skeletal remains of a man who was pinned under the locomotive when it overturned….