My brother Rick passed away some years back. I still have his Gerber folding knife and his cool collection of Hot Rod magazines. It’s always fun looking at back issues. As I was going through the collection I saw a 1956 Chevy convertible.



Rick had one; the color was a two tone, matador red and white, with a white soft top that he weekly brushed with comet cleanser to keep it show room white.
When we were kids Rick made sure that I new that he was my big brother. Most big brothers pick on little brothers from time to time and he did too, but I also new he would defend me if he needed too. When I was a freshmen in high school I was outside having a cigarette, some older boys started picking on me. Another boy came from around the corner for a smoke and saw what was going on and said, “Hey you guys, better leave him alone that’s Rick’s little brother!” They all immediately stopped. I think one boy even started to stutter to say he was sorry. I never had any problems in school after that, from time to time some of the teachers would say, “Are you Rick’s little brother?“ I would always say yes with a big smile and they would always nod or shake there heads.
Rick was a true car guy and was probably one of the reasons that I got into cars. Back in the day, when I was a kid, my brother Rick and my cousin Steve, would actually finish there car projects, and that was good for me! Why, because sometimes they would take me for a ride! Before I was ever allowed into Rick’s car I always had to promise that I would sit on my knees! Yes…on my knees, because, “it makes you look taller and older in the seat,” he would say, and no big brother wants his little brother cruising with him on a Friday night!
So I sat on my knees and sat as tall as I could! After all he had a rep to keep up!
Grandpa Tom

I was looking at M-Troop’s blog at Renee’s post the other day and seeing her gnome doors brought back memories of when I was a young kid and I came across a large gnome village. I was practicing a racing game all the kids called Jump and Run. Little did I know that years later I would be playing this type of game in basic training; it was called the obstacle course.
Jump and Run started at the end of one block, at the middle, and ran through the adjoining back yards to the other end of the block. We ran around, over, and under, fences, trees, bushes, dogs, cats, or anything else that was in front of us, until we made it to the opposite end of the same block; first one to the end was the winner. Looking back now I don’t know why we always played games like this, someone always got hurt. Most of the time it was on my block or a friends, but sometimes it also combined a dare block. The dare block was a block that had never been ran or scouted out before so it was always a surprise when you jumped over the fence.
In one of my practice runs I jumped over a fence and landed face down, flat on the ground, as I laid there for a second or two to catch my breath, I heard a voice; thinking maybe it was the home owner I braced for the yelling to start…but nothing. Then I realized the noise was coming from my right, through the fence separating this yard from the other side of the block; I stared past the fence and through the bushes and I could see something with bright colors next to the ground. I decided to find out what it was. I started crawling as quietly as I could. As I crawled I could hear faint sounds, it sounded like whispers, but I couldn’t understand what was being said. I reached the fence and suddenly! birds flew up and blocked my view. I thought, “What’s this, a gnome village?” The gnome village was a giant rock garden with flowers and plants that covered the whole backyard. It even had its own waterfall with a little river winding its way through the village, there were roads, cars, houses, a lake made from mirrors, and of course, gnomes, a whole yard of gnomes, all shapes and sizes and all brightly painted. One gnome was pushing another gnome in a miniature wheelbarrow, some wore hats, some didn’t; some were standing and some were sitting. One of the gnomes was even riding a bicycle.

As I laid there looking at this village I started thinking, “Did the gnomes come alive when no one was looking and was it the gnomes I heard whispering?” “Why did the birds fly towards me and not away from me, did they intentionally keep me from seeing something, were they the lookouts?”
The next 4 days were spent trying to catch those gnomes moving! I was in that backyard at least a half a dozen times and approached them from a different way each time, but nothing. I decided their lookouts had spoiled my one and only chance to catch them.

Grandpa Tom