The Heartland

[Feathers and Fins]

He was 60 years young, now returning to the place of his youth. when he was a kid he played in the corn fields during the summer and ran in the wheat fields during spring. Vast fields of golden wheat blowing in the wind. Land that was as wide open as a child's eye at Christmas.

He moved from this wonderland with his parents when he was seventeen but always remembered them in his dreams, He grew up and worked in the big city but was a country boy at heart. He raised -Five young children to fine adults. But all the time longed for those days of his youth and playing in the wide open fields.

He dreamed of an open pond where he and his best friend helped there fathers build an old blind, the many season they shared hunting ducks and geese. How the sounds of fall nights were filled with migrating geese, and not of jet planes how on the right night with a bright moon shinning you could see their formations. This was what he missed most those trumpeting messengers of the fall.

As he packed his home his loving wife so cautious with the china and fine glass he worried he would return to a far different place. He had watched the fields and hills around the big city slowly slip away in to a steel jungle. What once was orange groves and sage covered hills now was concrete and steel. What he wondered what was in store for him when he moved home?

Driving the interstate his mind kept second guessing would he find what he left as a boy or would it be yet another urban jungle. He kept reminding himself the real-estate agent promised it was a nice country house they bought, you see they did not have time in the urban jungle to go see the land they just knew they wanted it.

He hoped his best friend was still there someplace and his parents old house stood and he could show it to his wife along with paying honor to the small cemetary where his great grandparents and grandparents laid forever peacefully asleep;As they turned off the interstate and on to a long dirt road there were rows of green corn as far as the eye could see and blue sky with clouds dotting it to the horizon. As they continued this road they could see a house with a for sale sign on it and a sold sign sitting on the top. They knew this was their new home.

As they came closer they saw an old pick-up truck in the drive and a man about their age sitting on the front porch steps, they believed this was the kind real-estate agent who helped them buy this land. When they got out of their truck and approached him he held out his hand. Not to shake but in it was to old blue marbles and he said My marble is bigger than yours and I can outshoot you on any day.

The old man broke in to tears and his knees buckled, Before him was Tim Range his best friend from child hood his friend he lost contact with 30 years ago, here before him was the person all his youthful memories were built around. Both men sat on the old porch tears in their eyes. Bob asked Tim, how did he know?

Tim smiled and said your agent is my cousin Mike! When he heard your name and how you use to live here it was all he could do not to bust in to tears from hearing your voice again. When you hung up he called me. These last 6 months knowing your number and not calling has been the hardest thing I've ever done. But come here Tim said with a urnest I must show you something else.

Tim walked with him around the corner of the house and there before him was a field full of cars and tables loaded with food. People all around and voices he knew from his youth. Then he saw it an old Oak Tree and a picket fence around it. That tree and fence he knew! he fell to his knees his heart was beating hard a lump in his throat tears pouring down his face like a mighty waterfall as they hit the ground.

He looked to his old friend…Who said yes! this was your parents and grandparents home. The house was destroyed in a tornado many years ago and the road renamed, I bought the property because it to was where I grew up at your mothers table. The graves are still there under that old oak tree. Then he reached in his Levi Jacket pocket and handed him a paper, it simply said on the cover DEED! This is not mine but yours and your families he said as he handed it to him. We took your deposit and and fixed up the house. No more payment is needed this is your house.

He walked to the fence and opened the gate, he knelt before these graves his loving wife came and placed her hand on his shoulder, she handed him some flowers they bought on the way in that she told him she wanted to place on the table in their new home. She knew this was the home of his childhood as his friend and called her one day while he was still at work and told her of all this. She bought you see those flowers for these family members who had left this world.

He placed the flowers on the graves and stood up. As they walked toward the group of people smiles of joy and a warmth in his heart came over him! He was home… As the afternoon slipped to evening with the hues of red and orange glowing in the sky a song came over the radio "Proud to be an American" the crowd grew silent as they listened to this powerful song. Many of the men were veterans and it meant something to them.

As the friends left for the evening he and his wife walked in their new house, fresh paint and wood floors could be smelled and all the furniture they sent a week ahead was arranged neatly. But on the table was one item they had not sent. A picture of his grandparents and great grandparents sitting under the old oak tree sipping a drink. Tim looked at his friend and said I found this after the house was destroyed it sat on my mantel for years where i would look at it often and think of my old friend and his loving family hoping to one day see you again.

The days grew cooler and the corn turned to a golden brown as autumn approached. Then one night while the he and his wife sat on the porch an old familiar sound of his youth he heard in the nights cold air. The sound of migrating geese, thousands of them! he ran off the porch and looked toward the sky. In the glow of the full moon he could make out the silhouettes and "V" formations of these wonderful messengers that Fall had arrived.

He ran in the house and called his old friend Tim with an excitement in his voice like a kid opening presents that had been teasing him under a tree for weeks before Christmas. His old friends said I heard them you could hear he had a smile on his face even through the cold phone. He knew his friend's heart was racing and the emotions were strong.

Tim came over the next day and picked him up. They drove out to an old lake and there before them were thousands of ducks and geese, not three days before this pond was empty, except for a few resident mallards.

The season opened the next weekend and these two gentlemen were once again back in the blind of their youth, back where so many memories were made, back where it all began many decades ago back in the same spot and same blind there fathers built together.

As the seasons past and years past the Old mans kids moved back to this wonderland. They had grown weary of the big cities and wanted something more for their families. Many a day was spent at Grammas and Grandpas house. Friends and family were always around. The grandkids playing in the fields of winter wheat that all you could see was the heads of the boys with ball caps on and the girl's long hair flowing like the wheat in the breeze.

This is the heartland my friends. A place where family means togetherness, a promise is a promise and where "FRIEND" means forever. The old man was home and lived with his wife and family content and happy just to watch the grandkids play in the fields and every fall to hear those messengers fly at night announcing Fall was here and the friends who hunted in the marshes, fields and ponds sharing stories of old times and passing the heritage on to the kids

[kevthebassman]