Part One: The Miniature Bicycle

Third grader Marc Brand and his grandfather were out Christmas shopping. Grandfather, whom Marc called Ol Pa, was visiting from Sunnyside Beach, Fla. Marc’s mother was happy when her dad visited because she worried about him living all alone so far away.

The boy and the elderly man stood in front of a shop window on Main Street. This store, like all the stores in town, was gaily decorated in reds and greens for the Christmas season.

The temperature had dropped during the night before; a feeling of snow was in the air. Marc wondered where his mother had stored his sled last February. He always liked to polish the runners with WD-40 before he took it out for a slide.

Grandfather removed a red handkerchief from his pocket and “honked” loudly into it. He shivered, pulling his Peruvian alpaca cardigan tightly across his broad chest. The brown sweater was a Christmas present from last year to Grandfather. Marc had found it at Dillard’s in the Bowling Green Mall.

Grandfather had complained when he opened the nicely wrapped box, “Oh, my, this is real alpaca. Feel how soft it is…but you shouldn’t have spent a lot of money on an old codger like me.”

Marc had laughed. “Would you have rather that I shoplifted it?”

Then, a tear in his eye, Grandfather had hugged Marc and replied, “Oh, no, you’re a fine boy. You would never do anything like that. Still, you shouldn’t……”

Mother had exclaimed at that moment…she had unwrapped her present from Grandfather. “Boots! Genuine rattlesnake skin boots. Where on earth did you find these? I’ll bet they cost a fortune. Dad, you shouldn’t be spending your retirement money on a plain Jane stay-at-home woman like me.”

They had all looked at each other….and laughed.

“Marc, are you certain this is the shop where you saw the Tiffany lamp in the window.”

The boy pointed to the plate glass. “It was right there last week, Ol Pa. I’m sure of it. It was between an antique Fiesta pitcher and a framed Remington print.”

“Well, there seems to be bisque fairy where you’re indicating now. Let’s go inside and inquire. Perhaps, the Tiffany has been moved…”

“Or sold,” the boy replied dejectedly.

They pushed open the heavy wooden door, causing a hidden speaker to sound out the opening notes from the William Tell Overture.

The buxom-y shopkeeper, a 70-ish attractive lady, was busy showing another customer a set of Royal Dalton China. Grandfather noticed that the pattern was Hampton Court, one of his favorites. The lady acknowledged Grandfather and Marc and indicated with her eyes that they should feel free to look around until she was available.

Moving deeper into the store, Grandfather began to scan the shelves of Things Past. “So many quaint old things here,” he reminisced. “So many reminders of my youth. See this gadget here?” He reached onto a shelf and removed a small round box with a clear cover. He handed the box to Marc.

“Do you have any idea what that is?”

 Marc looked at the box. “It says ‘the Abon Glove Ring, 24-carat gold’. What’s a glove ring?”

Grandfather took the box and held it lovingly. “A lady, my dear boy, used a glove ring to hold one glove to another when she had occasion to remove only one glove. Your sweet grandmother used a singular device on our wedding day.”

Marc nodded. He didn’t think Grandfather cared to mention Grandmother since she had run off with a sponge diver three Christmases ago, so he didn’t ask any more questions.

Grandfather replaced the glove ring. He sat it next to a ruby water glass which had in white a boy skipping rope. “See that ruby glass,” he pointed. “When I was a wee lad, I drank my Ovaltine from one just like it.”

“Wow! Do you still have it?”

“No, I fear I was as much a rambunctious lad as you are. One day I carelessly left it on the back stoop and our old hound dog Tige knocked it over and shattered it.”

“Say, I’ve heard that name before. Isn’t that the dog in the Buster Brown shoe ads?”

“Indeed, it is, Marc. Indeed…” Suddenly, Grandfather hesitated. He gulped audibly and, with a shaking finger, indicated another treasure. “See that little bicycle? When I was 10, I AlMOST owned one like just like it.”

Marc looked at the little bike. The bike was red. It looked as if it was made of metal. It looked very sturdy. “You did, Ol Pa, or you didn’t have such a tiny bike? Why did you say ALMOST??”

“It’s a long story. But, look, over in the corner. There’s a sofa that seems like it was put there for the customers. I need to sit awhile. Come. I’ll tell you the whole story that explains about the Christmas I ALMOST received a little bicycle under the tree.

“Besides, I need a rest. You’ve already dragged me to the deli in the Piggily Wiggly, the Family Dollar so that I could say hello to Jackie Blewitt, and Riley-White’s to smell the flavored candles.”

Marc laughed. “Okay, but we still have to go some other places. You said I could get some more Pokemon cards at WalGreens. And didn’t you want some of those peppermint bark chocolate bars they have at Christmas?”

“Yes. Yes, I do; but we don’t have to do Santa’s entire Christmas list in a single day, do we?”

“But, Ol Pa, you said this afternoon we’d go on a long bike ride, shoot some hoops in the driveway, and take our B B guns to the creek.”

“Well, then,” Grandfather sighed, “you’d better come and let me sit a spell. I think you’ll be interested in hearing about my ALMOST little bike.”

Next: Sledding on Summer Street Hill