If you were a grape you might hang in a bunch
And some hungry kid might have you for lunch
If you were a grape maybe grape juice you’d be
You’d have to be squeezed but you would flow free

If you were a grape you could be a jam or jelly
And you might wind up in somebody’s belly
If you were a grape you might become wine
You’d be in a bottle for a very long time

Yes a grape has potential to be different things
Just like girls and boys that can be anything
Your potential is so great it’s simply amazin’
In fact I’m so old I’ve turned into a raisin

Actually “M” didn’t really have a name. But in the interest of keeping the story easier to follow and for the sake of alliteration, I named him “M”.
Many…and I mean many many years ago when I was even younger than you are today, my parents had a radio that was as large as a big flat screen TV. At night after supper (dinner…not sure) there used to be radio shows that ranged from mysteries and dramas to comedy and also there were programs consisting of classical music.
My Dad loved classical music and my Mom loved the story programs but we would all sit in the living room and listen to and “Watch” the radio.
Yeah I know… but we did and I still don’t have a very plausable explanation for it but we weren’t the only family that did that.
Well, when the mysteries and comedies were booming out of our large speakers there was never a sign of him. But when the classical music came on, in just a minute or so…he would sneak out from somewhere behind the radio, look around and then settle down and….you guessed it…LOOK at the radio and enjoy the music.
Occasionally “M” would came out briefly when swing music was playing (before Rock and Roll kids) but “M” quickly decided that it wasn’t classical and then he’d disappear back to wherever he’d come from behind the radio.
One time as he was leaving due to swing music being played, I’m certain and so was my Mom; he looked at us and glared as he vacated his listening spot.
This whole series of appearances only lasted a few weeks (neighbors had a cat) but the thing that is the most amazing about this entire story is that it is TRUE.

”Hey Mister James!” Ten year old Eric Samuel, from just down Clancy Lane, the one way street named for the very first family to build a house on the once dirt road leading out of the tiny town of Denver, North Carolina, yelled, then stopped and peered in at the sunlit porch of his old neighbor.

Ezra James, whose actual age had been possibly mentally forgotten by him or deceptively hidden from the knowledge of all other residents, was either sleeping in his Kennedy rocker, or was dead.

Eric was “sore afraid,” an expression he had picked up from Mr. James,…well, the boy feared that his very old friend was not asleep, but just looked that way.

Eric’s hands started to tremble, sorta like Mr. James’s wrinkled, but very warm hands often did.

Eric yelled again and leaned in a bit farther over the front yard, white, but needing paint, picket fence. Suddenly, Eric saw a hand move, then he spotted an arm go up and he breathed a long sigh, and just as he was about to say something, Ezra James yelled out in a strong clear voice…”Thought I was a goner did ya? Ha…well, not yet. Plenty more to do, plenty more! C‘mon in and sit a spell.”

Eric, having nothing to do besides trottin’ down to Mr. Shipley’s corner store to get a quarter pound of American cheese for his Mom to make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch, opened the gate and then quickly got outta the way as the heavy cannonball on the chain slammed it back shut.

“Did the gate gitcha?”

“No Sir. I was quick. That’s fourteen straight times I cleared it!”

“Good for you. What’s the record?” Ezra asked.

“Twenty nine!”

“Got a ways to go yet, but we’ll surely celebrate thirty! Grab a chair.” Ezra pointed to the nearest one.

“Now today we’ll continue on our lessons about bein’ old and bein’ a young boy in the town of Denver.”

“You first Mr. James.”

“Well, it’s important when you get to be older that you keep track of following’ your dreams and your heart, and how you are doin’ on both.”

“You mean like getting good grades at school?” Eric tried making a comparison.

“Yeah, except it’s you givin’ AND gettin’ the personal grades and you gotta be honest with yourself…always! That’s important.”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know about heart, but I still wanna be a major league ball player when I get older. Is the heart stuff some kinda code for likin’ girls or something?”

“Well, that will sort itself out, but it’s all accordin’ to how you feel about the world and your place in it.”

“The world’s not very big in Denver.” Eric said.

“No, but big league ballplayers have come from tinier towns than this one!”

“ARE there tinier towns than here?” Eric asked.

“Sure! You’ve got lots to learn, but I do too and that’s one of the great things about life. You can keep learning all the way through!”

“What have you learned today Mr. James?”

“Well, I learned that your “not getting’ hit by the gate record” is at 14, and I ain’t dead! I’d say that’s a real good start!”

Then Ezra said “Now, I’m gonna teach you something’…how to shake hands in a manly way. Put out you hand.”

The boy complied and Ezra clasped his hand with Eric’s and squeezed and shook it up and down.

“Ouch!” Eric was rubbing his hand after the handshake.

“A might too strong maybe, but never be a weak limp handshaker Eric. That’s important.”

“Who invented the handshake Mr. James?”

“Not sure anybody knows, but it was a great long time ago.”

“I bet it started with cavemen. One guy had some food in his hand, and another caveman from a rival cave tried to snatch it out for himself and they grabbed hands; one trying to take it and one trying to keep it, until they both decided to split the food and become friends!”

“Well, Eric, if that ain’t the best explanation to the beginin’ of shakin’ hands, I don’t know of one!”

Then Ezra rocked back and said “So now teach me about bein’ a modern boy!”

“Well, it isn’t easy. Not by a long stretch!” (that expression, he had also picked up from Ezra and felt that it was the perfect place to put it into a sentence) I mean, you aren’t in charge of anything, not even your toys. And you’re shorter than most all grown ups and they ALWAYS treat you younger than you really are!”

“And they make you eat food that’s good for you instead of food that tastes good, and you have to finish all of it, and also watch them eating whatever they want and as little of it or as much as they want!”

“And bedtime is always 9:00 and they stay up until all hours and I hear them laughing and enjoying everything and it keeps me awake sometimes!”

“Now calm down Eric, don’t get too riled up. The best thing about it is you’re young and when you grow up you can do whatever you want, within the law of course.” Ezra smiled at Eric.

“I know, but time goes too slow and I want to be an adult right now!” Eric folded his arms to his chest and looked very unhappy.

“Tell you what. “You be me and I’ll be you for ten minutes. Whadaya say?” Ezra suggested.

“Ok.” Ezra stood and went to the rocker.

“Oh I gotta get up?”

“Of course, you’re the kid and I’m the ol…ah…adult!”
“Would you be kind enough to go get me a cold coke outta the fridge young man?” Eric said in a crackly voice.

“Do I really sound like that?” Ezra asked as he hobbled through the front screen door and went to the kitchen and got two cokes and slowly made his way through the house and back to the porch.

“Thanks, but you can‘t have a coke until you eat all of your supper young man!” Ezra admonished.

“Well, Ok.” Ezra laughed, but he enjoyed being referred to as “Young man!” and he watched Eric gulp down, and thoroughly enjoy, his soda.

“Your ten minutes are up! Now get outta my chair boy!” and they both laughed and resumed their places on the sunny porch and Ezra drank his coke.

Grandpa Sanders was looking high and low, into every drawer and into every closet and even into every mirror although his grandson Mark didn’t know what his Grandpa was searching so much for, especially in mirrors.
“Ah Papa…what are you trying to find?”
“Oh….I’m looking for something that I think I lost and can’t seem to locate.”
“Maybe I can help Papa.”
“Naw…I don’t believe so. It’s all up to me and me alone to find it.”
“Well…what is it Papa? Is it a book or a piece of jewelry…or a key…yeah…you are always losing your keys.”
“No…not those things. I lost something that you should never ever lose. Something you need everyday no matter how old you get to be.”
Mark was searching around under chairs and behind cabinets but admitted he actually was just trying to be helpful and had no clue as to what his grandpa had lost.
Then Grandpa Sanders stopped and squatted down and spoke directly at Mark.
“You’ve still got it and I want you to promise me you’ll never lose it no matter what!”
“Ah…well OK Grandpa…but it would help a whole lot to know what it is that I should never lose.”
“The “KID” in you. Even after you grow up and be a man and even when you get to be as old as me…always keep that kid that you are today inside of you.”
“Well… I kinda see what you mean Grandpa.”
Then Mark started to think and then a huge smile lit up Mark’s formerly sad face and he took his Papa’s hand.
“C’mon Grandpa…I think I know where you can find it again.”
Mark led Grandpa Sanders outside into the backyard and onto the playground filled with swings and a sliding board.
His Papa started to smile and ran, not too fast, but still running, straight for the sliding board, climbed to the top and as he whooshed down the slide yelled out an unmistakeable “WHEEEE!” and just about at the middle of the slide, Mark’s Grandpa found his lost “KID”.

Grandpa Sanders was looking high and low, into every drawer and into every closet and even into every mirror although his grandson Mark didn’t know what his Grandpa was searching so much for, especially in mirrors.
“Ah Papa…what are you trying to find?”
“Oh….I’m looking for something that I think I lost and can’t seem to locate.”
“Maybe I can help Papa.”
“Naw…I don’t believe so. It’s all up to me and me alone to find it.”
“Well…what is it Papa? Is it a book or a piece of jewelry…or a key…yeah…you are always losing your keys.”
“No…not those things. I lost something that you should never ever lose. Something you need everyday no matter how old you get to be.”
Mark was searching around under chairs and behind cabinets but admitted he actually was just trying to be helpful and had no clue as to what his grandpa had lost.
Then Grandpa Sanders stopped and squatted down and spoke directly at Mark.
“You’ve still got it and I want you to promise me you’ll never lose it no matter what!”
“Ah…well OK Grandpa…but it would help a whole lot to know what it is that I should never lose.”
“The “KID” in you. Even after you grow up and be a man and even when you get to be as old as me…always keep that kid that you are today inside of you.”
“Well… I kinda see what you mean Grandpa.”
Then Mark started to think and then a huge smile lit up Mark’s formerly sad face and he took his Papa’s hand.
“C’mon Grandpa…I think I know where you can find it again.”
Mark led Grandpa Sanders outside into the backyard and onto the playground filled with swings and a sliding board.
His Papa started to smile and ran, not too fast, but still running, straight for the sliding board, climbed to the top and as he whooshed down the slide yelled out an unmistakeable “WHEEEE!” and just about at the middle of the slide, Mark’s Grandpa found his lost “KID”.

“Pssst….ah….excuse me….yeah you…the reader….listen he just left but he’ll be back soon so I have to make this quick!”
“What….who am I?” “Oh yes excuse my manners….I’m one of his recurring characters…he puts me in some of his short stories…and I was even in a poem or two of his. But anyway, lately he’s been a bit disappointed with the response to his web sites. He CAN be a pain occasionally but all in all he’s been pretty good to me as an author. I mean he doesn’t make me look TOO stupid and I do get a few chuckles now and then. I must admit though OCCASIONALLY I DO wish that he were a better writer. I think I’d have more of a following, maybe even a fan club, although with him I gave up on that a LONG time ago.”
“W…A…I…T….!!!….whew…he almost caught me talking to you. Luckily he forgot something and left again. He wouldn’t like me going over his head directly to you the reader….he is definitely the only AUTHOR….in this household.”
“What I’m really asking is that if you could try to act as though he were a bit better at his writing craft then he is….believe me it would make life much easier for me and the rest of those characters of his.”
“Oh….here he comes again….thanks in advance for anything you can…….”
“Ah… what Russ ?…..No I was just… ah….thinking out loud!”