A boyhood memory by an old man...

The Watermelon Man

As a young boy going into grade two, in a northern Ontario bush town, life for me was not easy. I did not know where my mother and father were, as the result of their recent divorce, nor did I know if and when I would see them again.
In a series of moves by both my mother and father I ended up staying with an elderly lady and her two grown sons. They lived on a small, rather run down plot of land, some five miles from the closest town. I lived with them for almost a year, perhaps the longest single year of my life.
The two sons treated me as their younger brother, and because they worked away from the farm each day, I really only got to know them in the evenings and on week-ends. One worked for the railway coal refueling station, and the other was a tourist fishing guide, at a lake some miles away.
Most of the time, however, I spent with their mother. She was a rather large lady, who I recall, did not smile or laugh very easily.
As I settled in, I was given a number of chores to do each day; these were to be done without fail. I soon learned what without fail meant, especially when I forgot to fill the wood box for the kitchen stove. After a sound strapping I was told to go upstairs, without supper, as punishment for my neglect of duty. I can tell you it was a long night for me.
Just before I fell asleep one of the sons came into my room, bringing me a jam sandwich. With his fingers to his lips, to keep me quiet, he whispered for me to say nothing, eat every crumb and not say a word to his mother. I never said a word.
Now all this, I am sure today, was to teach me that I must carry out my assigned
duties; failing to do so would mean punishment. Today, when I recall that incident, I really only remember the lady’s son bringing me a sandwich and how happy I felt at being treated kindly...and life carried on.
I walked to school each day and home again with a group of children who lived along the road to the schoolhouse. I remember it as a very long walk and that many times I was so tired I had to sit down and rest. These rests had to be short because I was expected to be home at a certain time each day and most always I was, all except one time.
About half way home lived an old man in a broken down shack. All the children told me that he was a mean old man who would grab a child, if he caught one on his property. You see, on his property was a watermelon patch, not far off the road. It seemed close enough because we could see big, fat, ripe watermelons. Almost daily one or other of the children would dare the other to sneak in and grab a watermelon; however none dared to even go close.
It struck me that if I could take a watermelon home to give to my guardian lady, as a present from me to her, surely I would be treated much better. That is exactly what I did. Crawling on my stomach, I wiggled my way to a watermelon. My heart was about to explode in my chest and my hands were soaked with sweat as I picked out a melon and wormed my way back to the safety of the road. I ran all the rest of the way home.
When I entered the house, watermelon under my arm and a big smile on my face, I presented her with the prize watermelon. In a matter of seconds, I was branded a thief and received the strapping of my young life. Not a single word did she ask me as to why I had brought home the watermelon.
Because the old man had so many watermelons, it never dawned on me that he would even care about one melon being taken. I was soon to find out. I was told in no
uncertain terms to take the watermelon back, knock on the door and apologize to the old man. I had never been so scared!
As I was walking slowly up to the old man’s door, in my mind, I could hear the voices of the children telling me just what the old man could and would do to me. When I knocked on the door, it slowly opened and there he stood. I swear he was a giant!
Somehow I stammered out my crime and prepared for the worst. The old man spoke to me for the first time; his voice was soft and low. He asked me why I had taken the melon, so I explained to him why I had done it. He asked me if I knew it was wrong to take something without permission and I said I did. He then asked me if my guardian had wondered why I took the watermelon. I told him she had not, but that she had just given me the worst strapping of my life.
The old man then told me to come into his house and sit at the table. I did, and then he took a huge knife off the sideboard and turned towards me.
My whole world nearly stopped right then!
He cut the melon in slices and gave me a piece to eat. Together we ate most of the watermelon. He then told me not to say a word about eating watermelon with him. I was just to go home and say I was sorry for my actions.
This I did and from that day forward I have always tried my best to carry out my duties. I did not always succeed, but I have tried, and vowed to keep trying. Many times over the years the actions of the lady, her son and the watermelon man have come to mind.
Always, I thank them all.