Bill Smith                             

Bill’s little house was just two doors down from
Reinke’s store where he bought all his groceries.
He lived alone and had a vegetable garden, so,
given his age, didn’t buy a lot of food. He was
not a slender man though, but well put together,
tall, slightly bent, a white and bushy moustache.

His brother, a little younger, with a wife, lived
across town, just two miles away on the bank of
a river that ran through the town. The brothers
though close, now didn’t see each other often.
Bill lived a lonely life, his friends having died or
no longer able to get there to pay a visit.

One day a boy who lived down the street
came over and asked if Bill needed help in his
garden, The boy called him Grampa Smith.
Such a way to address an older person was
common in those days. They worked in
the garden, then went inside Bill’s house.

Bill taught the boy how to play Pinochle, a
popular card game in that town. The boy
learned quickly. They listened to the Tigers.
It was 1943 and teams were without most
of their regular players, who were at war,
but that didn’t keep their fans from rooting.

The boy was shy but he visited often, and
Bill was less lonely. They gardened, listened,
Played, even talked a bit. Then the boy
found new friends, Bill’s health declined,
the visits stopped. The boy lived on and on
and he became a lonely old man too.

Written near end of 2023, about me as kid