The Old Man

by Josh Huxtable (with art by Jessica Farmer)
Writers Artists Night 2021

This is a story about a man I met when I was just a small boy in the summer of 1942. My name is Danny. And this old man I’m going to tell you about, he had me call him Grandpa Jay.

The day began as usual. Mom yelling at me to get downstairs for breakfast, me grudgingly getting out of bed to the shower and ready for the day.

Once breakfast was eaten and the kitchen cleaned, mom sent me outside to play. We lived in a fairly small town, so she didn’t worry about me running around with my friends. But today no one was outside to play. So me being the little tyke that I was, I decided to explore places I’d yet to go.

I headed off down the street, took a corner to my left and there was a dirt road to the right of me. So I went on a walk. I’d walked for a good while when I came upon an old home that resembled what I’d come to know as a shack. On the porch was a little old man who was smiling from ear to ear, and missing quite a few teeth I might add.

But his eyes shined bright and he seemed very friendly. So I waved and he called me over. He offered me something cold to drink and to sit for a while.

I thanked him. And he started asking me questions, like my age and what grade I was in. Then he laughed and said, “I betcha wanna know how old I am, doncha?”

I laughed and said, “Sure.”

“I turned 89 years old as of yesterday,” he said in his southern accent. “You know, I learned a lot in my younger days. Like how to fish, garden with my pa, and ma made sure I could cook me some grub. A fellow never knows if he will marry a pretty gal. So he has to know how to cook for his self.”

He went on and on, telling me about all the stuff he did as a kid himself. But it wasn’t until he got to his early 20’s that his story took on a whole new light.

“It was a little after my birthday in 1876 that I found Jesus. And let me tell you son, my life ain’t been the same. It wasn’t long after that that I found my Jenny. Man she was purdy. Her eyes were emerald green, and her skin was soft. She smelled good too, otherwise I wouldn’t have married her,” he said laughing.

“But she gave me two great kids of my own. My daughter Annie, and my son Jay Jr. We would have had another, but he died at birth. Doctors couldn’t save him. We called him Jack. After that, Annie was never the same. She still smiled and was a wonderful wife. But I could tell her light had dimmed.

“But the thing I learned in all that was faith. God lost a son as well. Did you know that,?” he asked me.
“I have heard about that. But I don’t know much,” I said.

He went on to explain the life of Jesus as best he could for me to understand.
My small mind had a hard time understanding all this. How could one man be perfect and change the world? But he went on to tell me more about his life. And when he got to when Jesus was crucified, it made me cry.

“Why would they do that to him?” I asked.

“Because people don’t want to hear the truth. The truth is a hard pill to swallow for any human. Anything that makes them uncomfortable, they won’t hear it. But deep down they know it’s true.”

He stood up shakily and told me I could come inside to have lunch with him. So I got up and helped him inside. We sat and talked more, over a simple meal of home made stew and biscuits.

He told me more about his life, the ups and downs he had. And he teared up when he told me how his wife passed away.

“It was just a little over a decade ago. She developed lung cancer. They couldn’t do anything for it but make her comfortable. I never left her side. She passed here in this house, where I cared for her. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. She was mine to wait on hand and foot. That’s what I did our whole marriage. She was my angel,” he said smiling.

“A woman’s value, a Godly woman, is that of a ruby. Oh we had a wonderful life together. She knew I was ornery and I always kept her laughing. Laughter is a healthy medicine in a marriage.”

I learned a lot from him that day. What real love was, even though I didn’t know it at that time. He planted seeds that grew. It made my whole outlook on life different. The wisdom he shared, the little jokes that made me laugh. I had found a new friend.

I kept going to see him for the next eight years, and I made sure my dad and mom knew him as well. They loved him just as much. He became part of our family.

The day he went to be with his Jenny, I cried hard. But I keep his memory alive by sharing his wisdom, telling his story to any and all who will listen.

This is the memory of the little old man I call my Grandpa Jay.