Benton Courier - DAVIS: What memories did you make?

No matter where you live or who you are, holidays are all about nostalgia, tradition and looking back to discover those little nuggets in time to cherish forever. They are all around you; it just takes focus to catch them.
Recently, I had the opportunity to make such memories, not from anything I was participating in, but from watching others.
The first was a little more than a month ago. I was out with the family and was sitting on a wall, waiting for them to finish their rounds in an amusement park. Along came an older gentleman with two young children in tow. One girl. One boy. I imagined the older man to be the grandfather of the children. The boy appeared to be about 5 or 6 years of age with dark brown hair flying all around as he pleaded with grandpa to ride the Merry-go-Round. Upon giving permission, the little boy ran around to the other side to take his place in line. The little girl was much more reserved. I estimated her to be of near 7 years of age and perhaps a bit too mature for such childish matters as riding on a wooden horse. Instead, she took the time to talk with her grandpa.
I could not ascertain the subject of their conversation but it was clear that both were happily engaged in their moment. The grandpa was a rather short, rotund man dressed in denim overalls and a plaid shirt. As I watched him sitting across from me, he appeared to me as a living version of Humpty Dumpty perched on his wall with an English driving cap upon his head.
Once the conversation started, grandpa reached into a side pocket and pulled out a piece of wood approximately five inches long and one half inch wide on all sides. The little girl continued to talk as he reached into a pocket on the other side to find a white gardening glove, placing it on his left hand. His attention never wavered from his granddaughter. After placing the wood securely into the palm of his left hand, the gentleman pulled a knife wrapped in newspaper from the bib of his overalls with his right hand.
He began to whittle a small round ball at the top of the stick. He cradled the wood in his glove while the knife cut into the sides, carving images too detailed for me to see. When one side was complete, he moved to the next. A pile of shaving grew around his feet. The two of them carried on with their conversation. Grandpa was focused on his carving but never lost sight of the jewel sitting next to him on his wall. Soon the boy returned, all excited and energized from his ride. Grandpa placed the knife in the newspaper; stored the wood and glove back into his pockets and they left hand in hand to their next adventure.
I watched them leave and turned my attention back to where they had been sitting. I imagined a Christmas day to come and one in the distant future. The one to come was of the boy and girl at grandpa’s house opening a gift from him of a handmade wooden Christmas tree ornament. The one in the future was of a grown woman and man with their respective families, decorating a tree with the memory of a day long ago and the smile of a loving grandpa captured in a length of wood from an old man’s overalls. I picked up a shaving and put it in my pocket.
The next memory came just last week. I was invited to a potluck at work. As it turned out, I was the only male in a group of 19. And, as typical, I forgot to bring anything to share. Fortunately, the ladies let me stay and eat anyway. We made our way along the line and gather at tables arranged in such a manner to resemble one big kitchen gathering place. I listened to the conversations taking place around me. Recipes were being discussed. Last minute shopping ideas were exchanged. And then, it happened, just as I was afraid it would. Someone decided it was a good idea to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. Anyone who has heard me sing before knows this to be a suggestion never made again after the first time it is offered. I must say this was a very organized group of women. The words had been printed on sheets for all to use and the suggestion was made that different people sing different days. I immediately called out “I get day 12”. I felt the cringe of previous times when I had done this before and was relegated to singing “and a partridge in a pear tree” twelve times. Believe me, it is not a treat for the ears. Fortunately, others in the group wanting to sing it regular, so we did. Let me tell you, the ball just kept rolling from there. After “Jingle Bells” was finished, I raised my hand to say something.
I said, “I have three things to say. First, I can’t sing with you because I won’t be able to hide my voice. I don’t sound like the rest of you. Second, you will never find a group of 19 men sit around and say ‘hey guys, let’s sing Rudolph’ (at which point one of the ladies said yes you would, in a bar). Finally, I want you all to know that I watched you while you were singing and right before my eyes, you all turned into 10-year-old little girls. You were having so much fun”. And it was true. They all smiled and laughed. The moment took them back to childhood and the joy shone through their faces – and they kept singing. I was thankful to be a witness.
So, today, did you make any memories? Did you savor the moment? Did you soak it all in?
But most of all, did you remember to thank God for the birth of his son and the salvation offered to each of us this season of Christ.

Brent Davis is a lifelong resident of Benton and Saline County. The Courier has been part of his life for as long as he can remember. He is a graduate of Benton High School. His column appears on Fridays.

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