| All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2006 by James E. Ryhal No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher. ISBN 10: 0-8059-7281-1 ISBN 13: 978-0-8059-7281-8 Library of Congress Control Number: 2006924904 Printed in the United States of America First Printing |
| To my father, James W. Ryhal, who as a boy had an Airedale named Bum. This is a true story. Some of the names have been changed. |
Take a
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Bum loped along casually and I ran hard to keep up with him. We were late for supper and
I didn’t want to be any later. After leaving Rome’s house, we cut through the back alleys
trying to shorten the route to Moore Avenue. We cut the corner of the lawn on Harlan’s
place. It only saved a few seconds as we ran, but since we were already late, every few
seconds helped.
“Get off my grass!” someone shouted at me. “Get off my grass and keep off!”
Bum and I stopped. It was Old Man Harlan. I had heard much about
him over the years; however I had never actually seen him before.
“I’m sorry we ran over your grass. We only made a couple of footsteps on it and won’t do
it again.”
“I don’t care if it was only a couple of footsteps, and I don’t care to hear your stupid
apology. If you and that dog are on my grass again, I’ll shoot that mangy dog.”
“Oh shut up, you old fool! That’s a terrible thing to say and I’m not
paying any attention to you.”
“I’m gonna tell your father what you called me. Yes, I am certainly
gonna tell him.”
“You be sure to tell him. And I’ll tell him what you said about shooting my dog.”
Bum and I started for home again. I didn’t want to hear anything more from that old man.
“You heard what I said! You heard me!”
He kept yelling as Bum and I kept running. The more we ran the more angry I became. It
was simply unreal for anyone to even think about shooting a dog for a few steps on their
grass. Now I understood why so many people disliked this man.
I could see the house ahead. We slowed to a walk just before I entered the house. I wanted
to settle myself. I had to stop thinking about Old Man Harlan and let go of this anger. More
than anything, I worried that he would actually do it.
. - - - - - - -
After supper I felt somewhat better, but not completely. Hazel, Allison, and Mother stayed
in the kitchen. Dad went to the backyard and trimmed a small blue spruce. I followed him
outside and was determined to tell him the entire affair. He never said a single word as he
listened. He worked on the little spruce, but I am sure he heard every word. I had a strange
feeling he knew everything even before I said it. I didn’t leave out a single thing and pointed
out what I had said also. I didn’t try to cover up my own behavior. When I had finished, my
father said nothing. For several minutes there was silence as he worked with the tree.
“Jim, I’m sorry you had to go through this sort of thing,” he said very slowly. “Paul Harlan
has been an angry man for a long time. It’s a long story and you probably wouldn’t
understand it all if I told you, so I won’t even go into it. He and his old-maid sister have lived
in that rickety house all their lives, first as children and then staying on after their parents
died.”
“But what if he would shoot Bum?” My father never directly answered my question, giving
me an uneasy feeling that my fears were justified. I listened very carefully to what he would
say.
“You’re going to have to do what everyone else does—ignore him. Don’t go on his street
unless it’s absolutely necessary! If you have to go on his street, make sure you and Bum are
going down the opposite side of the street from his property. It might be a good idea for you
never to take Bum over there. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand!”
Bum and I walked around the backyard. I couldn’t get my mind off that old man. Most of all,
I couldn’t forget that my father had not answered my question. With my luck, the old fool
would miss Bum and hit me.
The following day Will and I sat on the side steps of the school. It was recess period
following lunch. Sally was in the office scheduling a make-up test and was coming later.
The weather outside was wonderful. The trees were yellow, orange, red, brown and green. It
was Indian Summer. It was warm, yet pleasant. It was mild, dry and even a little hazy. The
leaves crackled under my feet as I walked. It would not last long but was beautiful now.
“Do you know Old Man Harlan?” asked Will.
“What? What did you ask?”
“I asked if you know Old Man Harlan.”
It burst out of me like a lake whose dam had been destroyed. The story flowed out of me
rapidly. I told Will the whole story, every word, every detail. I told him about my father, our
talk, his advice, and everything. “That does it,” said Will.
“Does what?”
“I’m gonna get that old bastard!”
“Why?”
“I’ve had half a dozen run-ins with that old jerk!”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna blow up his outhouse. I’m gonna do it and I’m gonna do it Halloween night!”
“How the hell are you gonna blow up anything? What are you gonna use to blow up
somethin’?”
“Dynamite!”
“Where could you get that? Don’t be silly! You don’t have any dynamite!”
“The hell I don’t!”
“You’re just talkin’ crazy.................
But was he???...
I didn’t want to be any later. After leaving Rome’s house, we cut through the back alleys
trying to shorten the route to Moore Avenue. We cut the corner of the lawn on Harlan’s
place. It only saved a few seconds as we ran, but since we were already late, every few
seconds helped.
“Get off my grass!” someone shouted at me. “Get off my grass and keep off!”
Bum and I stopped. It was Old Man Harlan. I had heard much about
him over the years; however I had never actually seen him before.
“I’m sorry we ran over your grass. We only made a couple of footsteps on it and won’t do
it again.”
“I don’t care if it was only a couple of footsteps, and I don’t care to hear your stupid
apology. If you and that dog are on my grass again, I’ll shoot that mangy dog.”
“Oh shut up, you old fool! That’s a terrible thing to say and I’m not
paying any attention to you.”
“I’m gonna tell your father what you called me. Yes, I am certainly
gonna tell him.”
“You be sure to tell him. And I’ll tell him what you said about shooting my dog.”
Bum and I started for home again. I didn’t want to hear anything more from that old man.
“You heard what I said! You heard me!”
He kept yelling as Bum and I kept running. The more we ran the more angry I became. It
was simply unreal for anyone to even think about shooting a dog for a few steps on their
grass. Now I understood why so many people disliked this man.
I could see the house ahead. We slowed to a walk just before I entered the house. I wanted
to settle myself. I had to stop thinking about Old Man Harlan and let go of this anger. More
than anything, I worried that he would actually do it.
. - - - - - - -
After supper I felt somewhat better, but not completely. Hazel, Allison, and Mother stayed
in the kitchen. Dad went to the backyard and trimmed a small blue spruce. I followed him
outside and was determined to tell him the entire affair. He never said a single word as he
listened. He worked on the little spruce, but I am sure he heard every word. I had a strange
feeling he knew everything even before I said it. I didn’t leave out a single thing and pointed
out what I had said also. I didn’t try to cover up my own behavior. When I had finished, my
father said nothing. For several minutes there was silence as he worked with the tree.
“Jim, I’m sorry you had to go through this sort of thing,” he said very slowly. “Paul Harlan
has been an angry man for a long time. It’s a long story and you probably wouldn’t
understand it all if I told you, so I won’t even go into it. He and his old-maid sister have lived
in that rickety house all their lives, first as children and then staying on after their parents
died.”
“But what if he would shoot Bum?” My father never directly answered my question, giving
me an uneasy feeling that my fears were justified. I listened very carefully to what he would
say.
“You’re going to have to do what everyone else does—ignore him. Don’t go on his street
unless it’s absolutely necessary! If you have to go on his street, make sure you and Bum are
going down the opposite side of the street from his property. It might be a good idea for you
never to take Bum over there. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand!”
Bum and I walked around the backyard. I couldn’t get my mind off that old man. Most of all,
I couldn’t forget that my father had not answered my question. With my luck, the old fool
would miss Bum and hit me.
The following day Will and I sat on the side steps of the school. It was recess period
following lunch. Sally was in the office scheduling a make-up test and was coming later.
The weather outside was wonderful. The trees were yellow, orange, red, brown and green. It
was Indian Summer. It was warm, yet pleasant. It was mild, dry and even a little hazy. The
leaves crackled under my feet as I walked. It would not last long but was beautiful now.
“Do you know Old Man Harlan?” asked Will.
“What? What did you ask?”
“I asked if you know Old Man Harlan.”
It burst out of me like a lake whose dam had been destroyed. The story flowed out of me
rapidly. I told Will the whole story, every word, every detail. I told him about my father, our
talk, his advice, and everything. “That does it,” said Will.
“Does what?”
“I’m gonna get that old bastard!”
“Why?”
“I’ve had half a dozen run-ins with that old jerk!”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna blow up his outhouse. I’m gonna do it and I’m gonna do it Halloween night!”
“How the hell are you gonna blow up anything? What are you gonna use to blow up
somethin’?”
“Dynamite!”
“Where could you get that? Don’t be silly! You don’t have any dynamite!”
“The hell I don’t!”
“You’re just talkin’ crazy.................
But was he???...
