Times of Our lifes

The old man sat in the rocking chair watching the TV. Grandchildren occasionally ran through the living room into the dining room, through the hallway and back into the living room. He didn't seem to mind the noise. I sat on the paisley print carpet, tracing the swirling pattern with my finger. Now and then I would look up at grandpa and then over to the TV. There was something on called a "soap opera." In my little girl mind, I could not understand why no one was singing if it was an opera.

After a while, I climbed up on grandpa's lap and pulled his arms around me. I help his hand in my lap and stroked it. I liked the papery feel of his worn hands and how my small childish hand fit completely inside his palm. "Am I still your best guy?" He asked.

"Yep" I beamed. "Will you sing me a song?"

Grandpa grinned. "I wish I had a nickle, I wish I had a dime, I wish I had a little girl to love me all the time." His voice was a deep baritone. "Sing with me." I sang in my little girl voice and together we harmonized. My voice would never be called beautiful, but grandpa once sang on stage.

As a young man, an immigrant to the United States, he joined a local club and performed on stage. He was in demand, locally, for his acting abilities and his amazing voice. When he met his future bride, he told me that he thinks she fell in love with his voice before they were introduced, but there was more to that story....one I will tell later.

That afternoon, on the way home, I asked my mom about the Soap Opera and she didn't explain it very well, but I got the message there wasn't any music in it. I also learned that grandpa could not see the TV because he had a cataract. He had lost one eye to cataract surgery years before and did not want to take the chance of losing the other so he sat in front of the TV but he only listened, never saw the picture. I guess that was okay, considering he probably grew up listening to radio.

I sat back and looked out the window. The car did not have air conditioning, so the window was rolled down and I remember the feeling of the wind blowing through my hair. I was barely tall enough to look out the window, so I focused on the tops of trees as they passed by. I knew we were almost home because the large oak trees lined our street. I closed on eye and squinted, trying to figure out what it would be like to see the way grandpa saw things. The trees blurred.
It made me dizzy, so I closed both eyes and began to sing:
"Wish I was a sugar tree Standin' in the town, Every time a pretty girl passed I'd shake some sugar down. I wish I had a sweetheart I'd set her on the shelf And every time she'd smile at me I'd get up there myself. Oh I wish I had a nickle, I wish I had a dime, I wish I had a pretty girl to love me all the time."