HE HAD THIS small motion picture projector hidden in his head and when he went to bed at night he ran films from the time the lights went out until his eyes closed and he could no longer see the oblong on the wall full of witches and castles and monsters and misty seas. He ran the films every night for years and nobody knew how talented he was. He never told a soul about his magnificent ability. It was better that way.
THE PEOPLE WITH SEVEN ARMS
“IT CAME LATE,” said Grandfather. “For Tom. It started early for you and it’s still going on. Discovering things, looking at things, smelling, sniffing, tasting things. Hearing things. It should never stop. It stops for most people, but they shouldn’t let it. Don’t let it. Keep it up all your life. I do. I do keep it up every day. Like with the lawn, and the dandelion wine. See, hear, feel, touch, smell, know, and you love. Put out your hands. God gave you seven. Your two regular ones, plus nose, mouth, eyes, ears, skin.
“When you stop knowing you stop loving and when you stop loving you’re not living, and when you’re not living, Douglas boy, you might as well be dead.”
A SERIOUS DISCUSSION (or EVIL IN THE WORLD)
“DOUGLAS,” SAID GRANDFATHER, “You must Iearn as soon as possible the difference between the real world and the world the way you would like it. The difference between the way some people teach us the world is, and the way it happens to be. For only then will you know what to expect, boy. You will see the world clear. And you won’t be a cynic, a man with a bunch of dreams still lying around in the back of the mind, that turns him sour on everything. And you won’t be a skeptic, either, really. I don’t even know if there’s a name for it, boy. You’ll just be someone that looks at the world straight off and sees it. You can even enjoy the duplicity of man, somehow. By recognizing that evil is natural to man, you should be able to cope with it better.”
THE FIREFLIES
“FIREFLIES NEVER QUITE make it back,” said Grandfather, on the bottom front porch stair.
“Make it back where?”
“My father used to say they were stars got shaken loose. On summer nights, he said, God cleaned his furnace, shook it down. Coals dropping everywhere. Run out and pick up a few, he’d say. I’d run. Come back, a light in each hand.”
“I’ll catch some,” said Douglas.
“Thanks.”
Douglas moved like a breath. There was darkness and stars in the heavens and stars on the lawn.
“They don’t even burn!”
“No. Gentle now.”
“They’ve gone out!”
“Startled.”
The fireflies were transferred to Grandfather’s cupped hands. Later, they lit up again.
“I wish I could glow like that.”
“Why, boy, you do. We all do, at times. Poets say love burns with a pure light. Here’s proof. Anything as beautiful as this must be important.”
“I don’t light up like that.”
“Saw you looking at your mother yesterday. In a dark room, bet I could read a book by your face.”
“Aw.”
“Yes, sir!”
Grandfather held up the fireflies. “Better let them get back to brightening the corner where they are.” He opened his hand. They lit the air softly, flying away. “Yes, sir, love is a wonderful thing.”
“We go out in the lobby and eat popcorn or go to the toilet until it’s over, matinees.”
“You’ve got yourself an argument.”
“It’s pretty silly, some Saturdays.”
“You ever see Grandma and me on the movie screen down there?”
“Heck, no.”