The Last Race

     “Ready, set, go!” my grandpa yelled huskily as he took off down the hill, wheelchair flying.   “Are you sure this is the best idea?” I mumbled doubtfully as I began to inch down the hill. “How else are we going to get there?” he chuckled, a wry smile spread across his face as he took in the scenery. “I say we have Garfield pull the chairs next time,” Grandave said about the cat that he had grown to love. As I sat in the old wheelchair and stared at the large, steep and rocky dirt hill in front of me, I was at first skeptical, but when I saw the excited look on my grandfather’s face all of my doubts vanished. “Grandave” is not the best title for Dave; he is only fifty-two and acts younger, but he has always been a grandpa-like figure to me. He is the person who first took me fishing and hiking. He loves every aspect of nature, especially his garden, which he cares for with tenderness that contradicts his physical appearance. As we passed by stables, and chickens quickly jumped out of our way, I suddenly realized that this could be my last trip spent with Grandave. “Come on! You can go faster than that!” he said in his gruff voice, his words still filled with sincerity, as his wiry brown beard and checkered hunting shirt blew in the cool Pennsylvania breeze like a flag. Staying true to his tough inner mountain man, he never let his sickness stop him and he continued to try to keep me entertained, even when he was confined to a wheelchair. As he zoomed down the hill, as carefree as a young child enjoying the fresh air, the lines of worry and sadness disappeared from his face as they were replaced by a wide, bright smile. “I’m going to win!” he called through the whistling wind as he neared the bottom of the hill.“I know you will,” I said with a smile. I knew that he was not just referring to the race.

Dave and Mom/Grammy joined Jay, Hillary, and me for a vacation in the mountains of Montreat, NC in 2001.  Hillary was almost four and (this part is hard for me to believe) Dave was only 44--my age now!  He always seemed so wise and so competent to me even though he was only 10 years older.  He helped Hillary catch her first fish that week;  he was determined that she wouldn't miss that important childhood experience--which, if left to Jay and me, she may have!  The adorable picture of the two of them holding a wee little fish is still sitting in our living room.  It's one of my favorites and the look on both of their faces is priceless.

I also love this picture of Dave and Mom--both very relaxed and happy as they watch the sunset over the mountains.  (I'll wager that is probably a cooking magazine Dave's holding :) 

This is a picture of Dave taken at White Swan upon our arrival near the start of 4 July 2001.  He and Janet were already in place, both looking pretty happy with themselves.  Dave is ready to take on his sisters-in-law, the malfunctioning toilet, the Webers, whatever the lake has to give up this year.  He was a stalwart for the week -- did the 4th, cooked -- watched as ladies drank too much, joined Bill in practicing moderation --- but also did some tricks.  Dave and Janet brought along with them a singing frog, that they perched on top of the afore-mentioned beginning-to-malfunction toilet, which would croak and sing whenever anybody flushed.  Webers stole it of course.  And oh, yes, there was a note written from our house by some of the Weber offspring to their parents:

Note from the hostages: It's Wednesday, Fourth of July in 2001, and Nicole,
Sierra and I are hostage In the Caroon's cabin. So far they are being nice to us
and we are actually enjoying ourselves and don't want to leave. They are loaded with wine and other beverages. Currently the Webers still don't know we are missing and they probably won't realize until dark or by the weekend...

It was one of the best 4th of Julys ever at White Swan and Dave contributed greatly to it.  As usual.