THE MYSTERY BOX

David has spent the last six months getting to know his Grandpa,  I mean really getting to know him.  He always knew his voice on the phone, and his scrunched up handwriting on birthday cards but he didn’t really know him at all, until now.

Six months ago David and his Mom had traveled across the country to stay with Grandpa as he had been sick and needed our care, so at last I would see the face, in person,  that belonged to the voice.

He had enjoyed the visit and he is pretty sure Grandpa did too.  Grandpa loved telling stories and David liked listening to them curled up with Mabel, Grandpa’s beagle, on a rug in front of the wood stove.

It was fun to explore the old house of many rooms and ancient looking furniture but he was not allowed to go into Grandpa’s library.  Well, the  library was just what the family called it but it was a smallish room full of books, a desk, and an easy chair.  It was off limits to David, he wasn’t sure why but he didn’t mind, the dust in there made him sneeze!

And now to the sad part,  David woke one morning to find his Mom in tears as Grandpa had gone to sleep last night and didn’t wake up this morning.  He was old enough to understand what that means and he was very sad.

There was so much to be done now, folks coming and going and his Mother talking to business people about selling the house and who might want the furniture,  things like that.  Other relatives came and visited and his Mother sent them all home with a keepsake to remember Grandpa.

When David got up one morning his Mother had his breakfast ready and said she was waiting to talk to him, about going home he guessed,  but that was not it at all.

His Mother read him a note she had found in Grandpa’s library.  A note meant for David.   His Mother read it slowly and tried to explain the meaning.   

~~~~

Dear Grandson,   

You have given me much joy in the time we have spent together.  You are quite the little man so I want to entrust to you two of my favorite things, the things I love most after living a long time.  

First, I hope your Mom will agree to let you keep and love Mabel,  she and you have a good friendship already,  so if Mom agrees, please take Mabel home and love her and care for her...she will love and care for you too, just like she did for me.

Second,  I’d like you to spend a little time in my library!  It has many secrets and some silly treasures only I would appreciate but there is a box in there for you.  A kind of mystery box,  no one else knows about it,  it is a true prize possession, I hope you like it.

Be a good son!  Be kind!  Be happy!

Love you heaps,   Grandpa

And so it was that David learned about many of the things in the library.  Some were just plain weird and others were parts of Grandpa’s life.  An old chess set with one of the pawns missing,  a big chime clock that had a deep sounding gong on the hour, some military medals,  books of course, photo albums which Mom took for safe keeping,  just bunches of interesting stuff.

One morning he opened a cabinet with a troublesome lock, made of some dark wood.  In the cabinet was about a million keys on different key rings and a locked metal box with David’s name printed on top in black marker.  It was locked but which key?   If he wanted to know what was in the box he would have to find the right key.  He could almost hear his Grandpa laughing up in heaven watching this mystery unfold.   Finally he found one that slipped right in the slot,  carefully he turned the key and he could feel the lock unlocking...click,  clickety, click...the box was open.

In the box was a fair sized leather pouch and on top of the pouch, yet another letter.

Dear David….here are words about my life when I was about your age,  I hope you enjoy the story and what is in the pouch.  Read the story first and you will understand.

~~~~

When I was a boy, there was  never an abundance of toys.  There was barely enough money to pay for heat and light and clothing so many of our toys were handed down from one child to the next.  Dented or parts missing were ok,  if it was new “to you”,  it was like it was new.  That was true of all things from bikes to skates and sleds.…most toys had belonged to someone else before it belonged to you.

If you were to ask me about my favorite toy.  My very favorite favorite toy I would have to say ….I loved my MARBLES!

I can’t remember a time when I did not have a fascination with marbles.   There must be a dozen different reasons for liking them beyond their beauty.   

As I think back, there were always two or three or more rolling around  in every drawer in our house.   Whenever my Mother or Grandmother  found them in our pants pockets on the way to the wash,  they got deposited in the nearest drawer.   You couldn’t just lay them on a table or shelf or they would roll away and end up on the floor.   So that explains why you might find them in the buffet drawer in the dining room or the silverware drawer in the kitchen,  well really in any drawer,  for sure in the phone table drawer with all the pencil stubs.  They were actually pretty available if you needed a few for a hurry up game with friends.

I think we all had one or two favorites that we could just never part with unless of course the other kid had something pretty special.   Trading was a regular thing sitting in the shade under our big tree or on the oval rag rug in the living room.  We all had marble bags,  mine was denim,  sewed up by my Gram from the leg of a pair of denim jeans.  In the marble bag enough marbles to carry comfortably but not all you owned.  The thing about trading was,  you could take just about any old marble,  be lucky enough to shoot a good game with it, and then brag it up....super lucky,  or perfect weight and size,  shine it up on your shirt,  blow on it and really play it up,  convince the others it was special and then trade it for maybe 2 or 3 marbles to add to your collection.  So many great memories of doing just that.

There were a few different kinds of marbles.   “Boulders” were oversized and great for knocking other marbles out of the ring.  They did make my thumb tired so if it looked like a few games would be played,  I stuck with the regular size.   “Puries” were regular size and glass but had no  pattern,  just pure clear glass of many colors and collected for their beauty.   “Catseyes”  were mostly clear but had a band of twisted color in the center that looked like a cat’s eye.  “Steelies” were really ball bearings of marble size,  they carried extra weight,  so needed extra force to propel them.  Often kids would rule out steelies because they could chip or break regular marbles.  Every once in awhile you would come across one made of clay they were dull in color and had little shine  but I didn’t know enough about them when I was a kid to know that meant they were very old and some day may be valuable.

Drawing down a rough circle with a stick in the dirt or laying a piece of string on a carpet to form a circle, this became the ring.   Usually two or three marbles from each player was put in the middle of the ring.  Then taking turns shooting with your shooter marble trying to knock other marbles out of the circle or ring.  You could choose to take out the easy marbles,  the ones closest to you or easy to knock out,  or you could try for a specific marble if you really wanted that marble for your collection.    If you were successful,  you got to keep the ones you knocked out.  If you were good enough to knock out a target marble but your shooter stayed in the ring,  you could continue shooting!

You must push or flick your shooter out of your curled up index finger with enough force to move any marble it hits out of the ring.  You must keep your knuckle on the ground.   Every kid I knew growing up had marbles,  they were common and affordable and easily lost so also easily found.   

Marbles were so popular in my grammar school,  we played at recess when the weather permitted.  We even had tournaments and in third grade,  I was marble champ of the school.   There were no prizes but for those of us who played everyday,  it was pretty exciting.

If I have led you to believe that marbles are only for kids, well think again,  I currently have some marbles in some of my planters for color and beauty.  I have a leather bag full that some day one of my grandkids may want and if you promise not to tell,  I will tell you that recently I bought a few at an antique store.    My fascination with them never seems to end.  Some days I take them out and sort them, remembering the best of times.  There are a few in the leather bag that are so special to me, I can remember the day, or the game, or who I won it from.  I hope you will touch them David and think about Grandpa from time to time….they are part of me.

~~~~

Slowly David opened the leather pouch, a few marbles rolled out onto Grandpa’s desktop, they were beautiful.  Quickly David decided the puries  were the best!  His favorites but then he found a cats eye with shades of purple and lavender twisted inside .  Soon his pile of favorites grew and grew.  

He sat back in Grandpa’s big easy chair and he thought about Grandpa.  How very weird,  to live so long and have a big house and money,  a car,  a real life but what he chose to share was his marble collection.

David was so pleased it was the marbles he had saved for him,  he agreed with Grandpa that everyone has a house and car but he didn’t know another person who had a marble collection that came complete with love.  The letter, the story, the marbles….yes such a wonderful mystery box.