The Collector

To say he was a collector is an understatement! For a start my dad was a collector of years. Last Nov. 17, he had collected 90 years. What a day that was! He started out saying he wasn't going to get up that day. He didn't like birthdays! And...he ended that day saying it was the best day ever! We all gathered at Bob's to surprise him. Which brings us to his collection of friends! He had so many, of all ages. Not just 'friends' but the good true, blue sort! Even in his most mulish of moments they stood beside him! One day a high school boy said,   " He told me to do good and I am going to do my best to do that!" Some of his best friends he had from childhood. He gathered more in his army years and more as the years went by. He didn't let any slip away. One day a fella came by asking for Oliver Johnson. He said he had told himself when the war got over he was going to look him up. And find him he did. We asked, "Who was that?"  Dad said, "Hell if I know! He said he knew me and I wasn't going to tell him I couldn't place him!"

He was a collector of stories. "And then he would push that button on that dog collar and that ol' mare would put her ears back and come at me again! I only had time to jump that fence and get outta there!  "And then that bear climbed out of that box and right in the window of the pickup! You should have seen her gather up those 2 kids and move! He could tell you stories about all his favorites...horses, mountains, lakes, hunting trips, camping spots, dogs...Where he used to find the biggest bucks or catch the biggest fish. Which gun was the best for which quest.

And a collector of wisdom! There really wasn't anyone who knew more. "Did you hear that? That was a bull bat." He knew about anything you could ask him; why your horse had a belly ache and what to do to fix it! How to catch a bullfrog, what to feed a newborn kitten or colt! How to braid a halter. What grew between the bark and the trunk of a tree. How to teach a horse to pack! Where to find icknish. The best way to catch a chipmunk...

He intriqued kids with his boxes of pocket watches, pocketknives, padlocks and keys, bottles and jars of marbles, old toys, all the things kids couldn't resist! And... GUNS! He had a gun for every grandkid...oh did I say "A" gun...I really meant a passle of guns to dole out at every visit. And when that kid went away G'pa went on a search to gather more for the next visit.  He made them promise to have a .30 .30 shoot every year. And when they grew up even their wives got guns!

And he was a collector of hearts. It seems a conundrum that just when one is finally old enough to realize and appreciate the special treasure he has that time has slipped away. Now we are all collectors of memories. The memories get shinier and more precious as time marches on. They are brought out at each and every occasion of a get-together and each time the treasures grow more dear.