Rock Solid Foundation

 

Rock Solid Foundation

Noel Laflin

8-9-21

Although Bill died some twelve years ago, I am still reminded of him each time I step out our front door as there are two pretty good size rocks that used to reside under his old garage but now flank the walkway.

Construction guys uncovered them a couple of weeks back when demolishing the former driveway and then garage floor due to massive tree root damage. The rocks, although pretty hefty, had been hiding beneath the cement floor for nearly forty years, helping with that firm, although recently cracked foundation; they called out for a new home, residing, as they were, unceremoniously atop the debris pile; so I carried them over to my place. They sit near old clay pots that the man had given me long ago too.

As the old fellow was such a fine neighbor for more than twenty years, I guess I just wanted to have something of his nearby.

Bill would watch over our house when we were gone, and I would do likewise for him. We had keys to one another’s homes so that he could check on things if need be; I also fed his cat when he was away. As payment, although none was necessary, Bill would bring me bourbon upon his return. Cash was never involved – just bottled spirits.

Retired, he took to constructing a massive model railroad and winter village in his garage. By Thanksgiving, it was set and ready to be viewed by all. Trains followed a mile of track winding their way past cottages, schools, churches, ice skating rinks, and a train station, of course. There were snow-capped mountains and skiers racing downhill. It was a wonderland, admired by the entire neighborhood and opened to all for many years in an open-garage-door holiday spirit.

There's still half a bottle of the last bourbon Bill brought me a dozen years ago. I usually drink to his memory around the holidays, remembering an elaborate Christmas village with half a dozen miniature trains passing through.

But I think I'll break that bottle out tonight, here in August, dust it off, and toast to a couple of old rocks instead as they probably remember the train whistle too.