My Old Friends

      More Letters From Paradise
           My Old Friends

Claude leaned over in his rocking chair, and plugged in the faded fuzzy Christmas wreath, with its worn plastic Santa in the center.The wreath hung in the center of the big window, directly above Claude's bottle of beer. There was also a tiny tree on a table in the corner, decorated  by Loretta.
I first met Claude and Loretta when I was Justice of the Peace. They brought some papers for me to fill-out. It was their plan to leave their bodies to the University of Michigan Medical School. I completed the papers as requested, and learned that both of them were in their eighties, and were not married. They explained that if they were married, their Social Security benefits would be reduced.
Claude was a large man with a large stomach, gray whiskers, and a rolling gait when he walked. Loretta was a widow, short and stout, with gray hair and a number of skin tags on her neck.
Claude was a retired plumber, and very much taken to drink. Every day he would climb into his red truck, and drive to the store where he would buy a six-pack of big bottles of cheap beer. Returning home, he would sit in his rocker, sip his beer and watch the cars go by. Loretta cooked their meals, did the laundry, and watched television.
I was at the time writing my Master's thesis and had difficulty working at home, fending off two little girls, and a wife who wanted to talk all the time. Claude and Loretta invited me to work at their house. Accepting their offer, I spent many evenings there. I would look up from my typewriter, to find a plate of food and a beer on the table where I worked. They often wished me good night, and said only to turn out the lights and lock the door.
Each spring Claude would buy two young steers. There was a half-acre next to the little house which was fenced, and it was there that the two steers would stay until just before Halloween. They would then be sent to the slaughter house. Claude would not keep them beyond this time as he feared the neighbor boys would let them loose. He never spent much money on grain to feed the steers, instead he asked people for their sweet corn stalks.These he chopped up for feed.Roadside grass was also fed to the steers. The county road department would mow the roadside, and after waiting a couple of days for the grass to dry; Claude would fork it into his truck and take it home.One time I forked the roadside hay, and pitched it into the truck, as Claude drove slowly and sipped his beer. I jumped on the hay until we had a solid block the size of the truck box. The hay fed the steer for several days.
Claude's plan was a good one. He would sell the meat from one steer, and it would pay for the purchase price of both steers. But, sometimes Claude found it difficult to find people to buy a half or a quarter of the steer.
Another Christmas found the pasture empty of both steers. Loretta wrapped up an antique sauerkraut cutter that had been in her family, and gave it to me for Christmas.
Time passed, and I learned that Claude had died. Loretta said that a van came for his body, and took it away. There was no memorial service, nothing to note his passing, except a few lines in the evening paper. Loretta inherited the little house and lived in it for some time, until her daughter and son-in-law talked her into selling it, so that they would have the money to open a hardware store.
I remember hearing or reading somewhere that you are really only dead, when you are forgotten. This has been my attempt at keeping their memory alive.

            Aloha
            Grant