Walt and Ruth (standard:other, 3967 words)
Author: Brett D	Added: May 22 2009	Views/Reads: 2684/1879	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Short read. A painful memory at times equates to a solemn tribute.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

rubber band. Sometimes, if it was raining I would put each paper into a 
plastic bag before placing them into the delivery bag. If the papers 
were light enough, I would wear the bag on my shoulders and make my 
deliveries; however, if they were too heavy, I would pull out the metal 
paper-carrier trailer and attach it to my bike. This thing was shaped 
like a pyramid on wheels and was painted orange. We always had a blast 
pulling this goofy thing around... for awhile. It must have weighed a 
thousand pounds after a few blocks which is why we opted to not use it 
on a regular basis. Sometimes, when delivering the full route (my side 
of Allentown as well as Chucky's route), I would need to use my two 
delivery bags and the trailer to accommodate all the papers for 
delivery. These days were particularly difficult. Have you ever tried 
to outrun a bunch of angry pit bulls wearing 100 pounds of paper weight 
on your shoulders, while pulling 100 pounds of papers on a trailer, 
riding uphill, and with a flat tire? Me either, but it could have 
happened!  On Sundays, when the papers were the size of Yellow Page 
directories, mom would wake up with us and help out. We would throw the 
papers into the back of the grey Chevette and we would deliver them 
from the back of the car. This was especially fun because Chucky and I 
would sit in the back of the car, with the hatch open and our legs 
dangling out the back, while mom drove the car to all the deliveries. 
She would drive between the elevated, half moon curbs along the busier 
roads and would even cut through some grassy areas not intended for 
automobile use. Usually, the Early Morning Abbott and Costello show was 
playing on the radio. We would sit in the back of that old Chevett and, 
in the dark, cool morning air, crack up. I think that for the most 
part, although she would be more apt to complain, Mom really enjoyed 
that time as much as we did. We would start our route before the sun 
rose and we enjoyed the eeriness of the silent, vacant streets and the 
darkened windows of most houses; their inhabitants still slumbering the 
night away. Our small voices seemed so huge as they echoed off the dew 
slick streets, and our clamoring foot falls filled the valley with 
brief signs of life. We had a system of jumping out of the car, 
delivering our papers then catching up to the car at the next delivery 
point. Foe example, I would jump out and run to make the delivery as 
Chucky would disappear into the shadows of the hatch back as mom pulled 
away. Then I would catch up to the car, I'd hop in and we would drive 
to the next delivery. And so it went. Chuckie and I would make a game 
of jumping out, making our delivery and running back as quickly as we 
could to catch the car before mom got too far away. We would dive into 
the back of the car as mom would yell, “Not while the car's moving!!” 
Ordinarily, the system entailed that we would hop into the back and 
signal mom by saying, “Go.” This prompted her into action and she would 
accelerate to the next delivery.  But, sometimes in our haste to get 
done, Chucky or I would accidentally signal mom while in the process, 
or act, of jumping into the car. We would yell, “Go!” while in midair. 
Mom, tired and dreamy eyed, would inch forward and we would land on our 
behinds on the concrete behind the car. Although painful, we still got 
a good laugh from it and to this day, the memory of mom, Chuckie and 
delivering papers from the back of the Chevett is a great one. 

I also had many good experiences delivering papers on my bike though.
For example, once when I was delivering papers and collecting at the 
same time, a very pretty woman answered the door. Her zipper was 
unzipped exposing her pink panties. I think my eyes were the size of 
golf balls as I stared, unabashed, into the forbidden opening while 
asking for $5.50. At other times, we would find very sweet and 
appreciated gifts in the paper slot or mailbox. Usually, we would find 
a sandwich bag with a modest tip, fresh baked cookies or just a note, 
thanking us for a good job. Collecting was the term used when we went 
out and collected money from our customers for our service. I think mom 
usually got stuck doing this because, after delivering papers, the last 
thing we wanted to do was wait around for people to write checks... or 
maybe she opted to do the collecting after realizing we kids were 
spending all the tip money on candy at the Allentown Market. Once, we 
had stuffed bags of candy into our shirts and down our pants and tried 
to sneak it into the house and up to our room. Of course, mom noticed 
the awkward bulges from our clothing and stopped us at the stairs. We 
were caught and we were reprimanded. Now, don't judge my character 
based on this act of dishonesty. I was and still am a victim to the 
power of sweets. In fact, I would do it again. 

Walt and Ruth took the paper. The Seattle Times. I often noticed them
working out in their yard when I delivered after school. Usually, I 
would quickly hop off my bike, throw their paper into the milk box on 
the porch and, like the wind, be gone before the lid closed. Of course, 
at times, the casual hello led to brief conversation and soon became a 
commonality I looked forward to. I believe these were the seeds that 
bloomed into a fabulous relationship. 

Chucky and I were always working and trying to make an extra few
dollars. Mowing lawns, weeding gardens, watching houses, and anything 
else adults would entrust to a pair of young kids. In fact, once 
Chuckie and I pooled our money and bought a piece of equipment that had 
soil and yard attachments that would enable us to offer everything from 
tilling to aerating. We were going to start our own company and get 
rich. We had it for a few days. I mean, it was intact for a few days. 
Chuckie decided to pilfer the motor and gears and build a go-cart. It 
was fun until I wrecked it. 

One day I was riding my bike past Walt and Ruth's house and noticed all
the peas growing in their garden. Mmmmm. They sure looked good. I also 
noticed some weeds growing amidst the rows. I pondered asking Walt if 
he would like me to weed his garden. Walt was sitting on his small deck 
eating a bowl of cereal and he waved at me. 

“Good morning, Brett!” he said with a polite smile beneath his thin
moustache. He wore a baseball cap, an open Hawaiian shirt and shorts. 
His skinny chicken legs were crossed and tan. He spent a lot of time 
outside tending to his yard. 

“Hi Walt!” I yelled back.”Eating Grape Nuts?” 

“Yup, come have some with me!” 

And that was really the start of hanging out. I agreed to have a bowl
with him. I sat down across from Walt at the outdoor table. Ruth came 
out smiling and gave me a big bowl and spoon. I poured some cereal and 
milk and she poured us some hot Lipton tea. The tea bag tab hung 
outside the white, porcelain cup. The cup sat in a little, white 
saucer. I had never had tea in a cup in a saucer. Then she asked if I 
would like some honey. She handed me a little honey bear jar. I added 
half the bottle to my tea and elicited a chuckle from each of them. 

We sat on the deck eating cereal and drinking tea. No one spoke for
awhile as we sat in a satisfied moment of appreciation of our 
surroundings. The blue sky seemed to string the large clusters of puffy 
clouds across the stratosphere and would occasionally obscure the sun. 
During these brief moments of "cloud" shine, the temperatures would 
drop about 15 degrees and the wind would pick up. Before the chill 
became unbearable, the sun would return and her warmth would chase the 
chill away leaving you with a pleasant, lingering awareness of 
contrast. 

“Say, Brett,” Walt usually began his sentences with the word, say, “I
noticed you eying the peas in the garden.” 

“Yup.” I answer, feeling very adult. The tea tasted delicious. I don't
think I had ever had such a fine tasting tea than the tea Ruth had 
provided. It was simply a Lipton tea. But with Ruth and Walt treating 
me like a grown up, the tea tasted different to me. It 
tasted...sophisticated. Using a real cup and saucer added to that 
feeling. I sat feeling proud and pleased. Both Ruth and Walt were 
enjoying themselves and did not hide their appreciation of having me 
sit in their company. 

Again, a breeze picked up as the sun hid behind a cloud, and whooshed
through the tree leaves. A plastic, yellow sun flower spun on a stick 
in the garden while across the yard, a wooden woman, forever bent over 
doing the wash in a tub, sped up her chore as the breeze wisped past 
her exposed, white knickers. 

Walt, displaying his keen intuitiveness, asked if I would be interested
in weeding the garden in exchange for all the peas I could eat. 

“Heck yeah!” I agreed. “I would love that!” 

So it began. Our trade off. I would get a hankering for some fresh peas
or beans or carrots and just knock at the door and ask if there was 
anything I could do for them. Sometimes Walt would ask me to weed. 
Sometimes he would want me to mow the lawn. After each chore, he would 
afford me access to the garden but he would also throw in a few 
dollars. He would have me do odd jobs such as stack wood, fill in mole 
holes, pick up apples and pears or if there was nothing, they would 
just send me out to the garden.  Sometimes when I walked or rode by, 
usually during the cooler seasons, they would holler out the door and 
usher me into their warm dining room and we would drink Lipton tea in 
cups from saucers with honey from a honey bear jar. Sometimes, when it 
was especially cool out, Walt would have a small fire burning in the 
living room fireplace. He had a small stack of wood remnants that fed 
the fire. Their house was small and cozy and toasty. Ruth wore bright 
red lipstick that almost hid her thin lips. She wore it well above her 
lip line. It had stained every cup in the house with red lip stains. 
She smoked long thin Virginia Slim menthol cigarettes that wore the 
same stain. She was very elegant and Walt very charming. She was the 
first adult woman that had used foul language in a conversation with 
me. I believe I was around 10 or 11. Walt would laugh at her coarseness 
but always apologized for her crude language. 

Walt was an ex Radioman. He had been an enlisted sailor, retired from
the military and held his memories from that time in very high regard.  
He would talk about his experiences in the military and held me captive 
to his narratives. Ruth would drink her tea, eyes glistening at the 
sentiment of memory. She often piped in her spin of a story and enjoyed 
pointing out what a scoundrel Walt had been when they had been younger. 
Sometimes she would pipe in stories that made me blush. Stories that 
made me see them in a different perspective, fifty years prior when 
they were young and entering the first moments of their lifelong love 
affair. Madly in love and defiant to complacency, they always knew the 
other's heart. 

Time passed and we all grew a bit older. 

During my sophomore year, I was back at Ruth and Walt's place, enjoying
a fine tasting cup of tea when Walt says, “Say, Brett. What are your 
plans after you graduate?” 

I was 15 or 16 years old. I hadn't given it much thought nor had my
parents really pressed me to do anything. I thought of Walt's stories 
and experiences in the military. His stories of being enlisted sounded 
great. I really don't think my intention was to join, but I thought 
that it would be pleasing to Walt to mention that I might join the 
military and walk in his footsteps. 

Did I say, “I thought....?” 

Walt's face brightened the room. His smile reached me before his
congratulating hands did! 

“Hear that, Ruth!” Walt shared with elation as he shook my hand and
slapped me on the shoulder, “Our boy is going to be a Radioman!” 

I just sat there, first uncomfortably shocked, wishing I had better
phrased my response, and then I actually enjoyed Walt's reaction. At 
the time, I have to admit that I really did not see myself joining the 
Navy. I couldn't tell Walt that. Not now.  I had made him so happy. I 
don't believe I have ever made a person as proud as I made Walt proud 
that day. I wish that could have been the end of this story. 

One Friday evening after school, I was in the bakery department at
Larry's Market cleaning the floor and washing all the pans. Walt and 
Ruth walked up to the counter. I didn't see them. I had been kneeling 
down behind the counter and I had something on my mind that consumed my 
attention like a black hole. 

“Say, Brett.” I heard the familiar sound of Walt's voice but it sounded
old. Walt and Ruth had always been elderly to me. They had always had 
been retired. They always looked and acted the same. But tonight, 
something was different about Walt's voice. 

I hadn't been by their place in quite awhile. Probably a year or so had
slipped by. I would see Walt and Ruth around but in the hectic pace of 
young adulthood, I had other priorities. 

I stood up from behind the counter. I had been scraping cake and jelly
off the floor. I observed Walt standing arm in arm with Ruth. They 
usually walked together arm in arm but this time I don't think it was 
casual. I think Ruth was helping support him. I looked into Walt's face 
and his eyes looked dim. They were kind of clouded over and red. His 
face looked puffy and his thin moustache appeared untrimmed. Beneath 
his drivers cap his hair appeared matted and greasy and although it was 
summer, he wore a heavy brown over coat and dark slacks. Ruth stood by 
his side smiling. Her red lipstick was, as usual, applied too thick and 
covered a half inch area above her lip line. She wore a brightly 
covered head kerchief that hid her brownish red hair and, over her 
slight frame, she wore a light over coat. Her face was tired but not 
sickly. Her sad eyes belied her smile and I knew something was wrong. 

“Hi Walt! Hi Ruth! How are you doing?” I asked too brightly. I almost
apologized for not coming by to visit. But I didn't. 

“Say, Brett, I need you and Tony to come by tomorrow. Can you do that? I
really need to talk to you guys.” Walt's voice was distressingly weak. 
I almost asked about it. But I didn't. 

“Sure.” I promised. Tomorrow was Saturday and I'm sure I could track
Tony down. I hadn't mentioned this, but Tony had a great relationship 
with Walt and Ruth as well. It had been awhile since I had visited, so 
I said. “I think that would be great.” 

Walt thanked me and weakly waved. Ruth smiled again and they left. I
returned to my task and forgot about Walt's request. 

The next Monday evening, I was at work. Again, I was behind the bakery
counter cleaning up the floor. My mom walked up, the top of her head 
barely visible from behind the counter, and asked if I had heard. I 
stood up and looked questioningly at her. She had the tone. Meaning 
something had happened...an accident or death. 

I swallowed. “Heard what?” I asked. Mom reached over and took my hand.
She looked deeply into my eyes, I noticed her eyes welling with tears 
and she said, “Walt died in his sleep Saturday night.” 

“Say, Brett, I need you and Tony to come by tomorrow. Can you do that? I
really need to talk to you guys.” 

I stood in silent shock as mom held onto my hand. I felt her touch
become white hot as my skin grew cold and tingly.  I asked mom to 
excuse me and I turned to walk away. She asked if I was alright and I 
said that I was. I walked out to the area behind the bakery which was 
part of the supermarket's storeroom. I kneeled down behind a pallet of 
soda pop and cried. I didn't cry necessarily because Walt died. I cried 
because I let Walt down. And I cried because I would never be able to 
undo it. All he wanted of me was to bring Tony over for a visit on 
Saturday. He knew. He knew he was going to die. His last wish of me.... 
I blew it. I will always regret my actions. 

At that moment I decided to join the Navy. I would do it in Walt's honor
and I would make him proud.  I joined the delayed entry program and in 
July of 1986, I was shipped off the boot camp in the Great Lakes 
facility. I thought about Walt quite often and he was my crutch. My 
encouragement. He was the reason I worked at excelling so vigorously. I 
graduated Honor man of the company. That was for Walt. I could not have 
done it without him. 

Also, I think it is important to note, that had I not joined the
military, I may not have been employed by the company that eventually 
hired my future wife as a temporary employee. We met at work. Had I not 
been employed by this company, we would not have met. My wife turned my 
life around. She did in a big way. My point is that, my life would have 
been significantly different, perhaps much shorter and much lonelier, 
had it not been for Walt. 

I owe Walt two things when I see him next: An apology and a thank you. 

“Say, Walt.... How about you and Ruth brew us up some tea?”  Wouldn't
that be wonderful? 

Thanks for taking the time to read this little story. It means a lot to
me. Brett 


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