SOME KIND OF GRUDGE
Author: George Fulks/May 29, 2011
(Within a parallel line for that year protrudes a kind of massive knot growing in density to a point that time could not contain its density. Bulging and tearing a hole into that parallel world, it burst through at light speed- reaching out as a crystal clear bubble containing those experiences and memories of those things past.)
John Redding had made a decision. Come had Memorial Day 2011. His conscience
had troubled him for years. Hurricanes, thunderstorms, and rains had continued within his mind. "Let part of this day remain silent," John thought. " I'll do it today. I'll share with everyone
what I think happened to a treasure- a portrait that was a precious object hanging on a wall within a crude house on an island within the Great Okefenokee
Remembering and honoring in a way the men, women, and children who perished in all the world's wars and paying tribute by silence for part of a day, John began to compose. In a corner was the grass trimmer, the chainsaw, and the mower. The radios and television were off. In a special way, John also intended to remember and honor those people living on Crane Island within
On such a day during the 1950's, someone had entered the Crane Island Homestead
where Grandmother and Grandfather Crane had first settled during the 1860's. A villian, a devil, a scoundrel had made milicious entry. That priceless portrait had
been removed from that wall and dropped face-up in some sand some one hundred yards
from the Crane's home. Rain and sun had spoiled that framed portrait. Mr. and Mrs.
Crane were heartbroken and furious; that anyone would have entered without their permission and done such a thing.
John Redding did indeed enter into the Crane homestead and house without their
permission; but just one time.(a lure to the wilderness one might say)He saw
Mr. Crane's rocking chair, that picture hanging on a wall, a radio, and another rocking chair or two. Although she was only a memory and not one of the Crane's family, John also saw Lori Jane's pussy. He saw all the things in Mrs. Crane's kitchen and their youngest son's trombone under a bed.(Their son was a good musician who had
played in the band with John.)
As John Redding stared down into that black parallel bar holding memories of that day long ago, a crystal-clear ball commenced to form and protrude from beneath that bar. Popping from a hole it had made from in the past, the truth was shown. What happened was known. John had not been the devil that day. Now seventy-one years old on Memorial Day, Sunday, 2011.
There were free lunches on Sundays, football and games of horse shoe, days of fishing and swimming on Swanee Canal. Love lifted me and shall we meet at the river. There was love, and there will always be for the Cranes and their friends in Charlton County, Georgia.
Truth of the matter is: Another person had followed and tracked John Redding that day. That person removed the
portrait from the wall and a broom from the front porch of the Crane's house and dropped that portrait at some point in the direction of John's footprints. Then carefully back tracking, they who followed swept their own fotprints away. Pnly John's footprints in the sand remained.
"Who's been in our house?" asked Mr. Crane on his next visit to his homestead. Then following the footprints left by John Redding. Mr. Crane concluded that the devil was John Redding- the one who removed and dropped his family portrait on sand.
The villian was not John Redding, and here are some of the reasons: The Cranes had shown the Reddings every courtesy; every consideration. They were the last people in the world John would have betrayed; have harmed or caused damage. The Cranes were some of the
world's greatest teachers and examples. In the exercise of morality, there were few
equals. Christ, whom they followed and worshiped faithfully, would have accepted them as deciples.
One thing was clear in the mind of John Redding. It remains perfectly obvious to this day. Someone with a grudge had entered the Crane's homestead and done great harm to a wonderful people. They made it appear that the devil was John Redding, but I'm absolutely certain that it was not. How do I know?( I'm John.) That's just my pen name.