Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: DEVOTED (02/04/21)
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TITLE: Pop's Block | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jennifer Champion
02/04/21 -
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The front yard was mostly dirt and gravel. In the center of it was a rusty old glider and several cement blocks. Marshall recalled how men from town would come sit on those blocks, smoke cigarettes, and drink a beer with his daddy almost every day. Pop’s funeral was attended by an assortment of people, most of which Marshall did not know. He never understood why his daddy was popular, but people seemed to love him, even if his son did not.
Marshall grabbed a block and just as he was about to chunk it in the rented trash dumpster, he noticed an envelope taped to the bottom of it. He pulled it off, put the block upright on the ground and sat on it. He opened it up and began to read the letter, written to him by Pops just two days before his death.
Dear Son,
Before you start throwing away everything I owned, let me tell you about some of the folks that sat on these blocks. I know you just see a dirt yard and blocks but there were many decisions made on this small patch of earth. The block this letter was taped to was the one that Pastor Joe always sat on when he came to visit. I’d say he came about twice a week for twenty years to talk football and to tell me about Jesus. For nineteen of those years, I’d listen to him as I drank a beer. He never gave up on me. On the twentieth year though, I really listened to what he had to say. I put down the beer and accepted Jesus.
On that block with the green paint splattered on it, was where Judge Phillips would sit every Monday before he went to the courthouse. He never drank a beer with me, although I tried to get him to on many an occasion. He would bring a thermos of coffee and we would talk about some case he was on at the time. I never had much to offer the Judge in the way of advice, but I guess he just needed someone to listen to him. He was often troubled about the things that went on in this town.
On that other block, the one with the chip in it, was the one that you would sit on when you were a little boy. I always joked and said you sat on it because you were a chip off the old block. You’d swing your little legs and eat a sandwich while listening to me talk to Frank, the homeless man that lived under the Pike Street Bridge. Sometimes, you would even give him half your sandwich.
The letter continued for two more pages describing the people that loved Pops and the people that Pops loved. Marshall folded it up when he could no longer read it and tucked it in his jacket pocket. The memories were too painful. The lost years were too far gone. The dumpster now seemed dark and useless. Marshall called to have it picked up and began setting the blocks back in their original places, all but one that is. He took the block with the chip in it and put it in the back of his truck.
He drove to the cemetery and carried the block up the hill to where Pops was buried. He set the block on the ground next to the Pop’s grave. That day, Marshall, sat on that block and talked to Pops for hours. When he was done, he put the block in his truck and drove away. He loyally continued this routine every week often telling Pops about all the people that would come and talk to him in the front yard. In the end, Marshall had become his daddy, a friend to all and to all a friend.
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A tiny bit of red ink... When referring to people, one would use "of whom", not "of which."
This is a great reminder not to judge one another.