Sir Day Walker

Praise Koolaid

I could hear the gravel crunch beneath my feet as I walked through this small town. This small town that raised my Father from the time he was a child. The sound of the gravel turned to silence as I stood in front of the Chapel. Today I am to deliver a Eulogy, sadly it is for my Father. I continued up the old stone steps, inhaling the aroma of roses that covered the entrance way. People loved my Father, they knew him better than I ever did. But all these years later, I found out there was more to him than even they may have known. It was up to me to fill in the blanks of my Fathers character and how it was created. The clock smiled down upon me and struck noon, just like it has for over a hundred years now.

It was time.  I stood up and approached the crowded room of strangers, cleared my voice and began.

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“This Eulogy was found just after my Father passed away.

In his will, I was to retrieve a box from his desk drawer.

In that box…was a gold pocket watch.

Just underneath the box…was this letter.

It was a Eulogy he gave when his mentor passed on.

I feel there is great importance in sharing his words…with all of you.

Without further ado…I give to you the words of my Father”

The Eulogy of Bull

‘It’s so easy to get lost in this moment, so I thought I would begin from the
first time I met Bull. There was a small rustic town just on the other side of
Brewers Creek and sometimes Mom would send me there for this or that.
One morning I took a different way and ran into this small cobbler shop.
There was a man inside, he pretended not to notice me as I stood halfway
peeking in the doorway to see what he was doing. When I finally got the
nerve to walk in, I asked ‘Hey Mister…do you know what time it is…?’
He looked up at me and said ‘Boy…I fix broken watches. I never know what
time it is.’ It was that day that I learned just how interesting Bull was.
He had, as I learned through the years…many quirks. He always wore his
next repair on his right wrist while repairing whatever time piece was in
front of him. He said that when his wrist was empty then he had ran out of
work, it was time to fix shoes again. I never pretended to understand
everything about him or the things he would say, but I sure learned a lot
about time. Over the next few years I would stop by and visit with Bull.
He was the best story teller I had ever met. And he always claimed
not to know what time it was…ever.

The summer my Mom passed away from pneumonia, Bull became more
than just the guy I dropped in to visit…he became my close friend and mentor.
I would do my homework in his shop, then he would teach me his trades.
Every Thanksgiving he would order crab from some place in Alaska and
that’s what we ate in lieu of turkey. I think it was his quirkiness that drew
my attention at first, but soon his ways would become my ways too.

Many years had passed, and Bull’s time here on Earth was coming to a close.
I never told him this, but years ago I spotted a gold chain hidden beneath
his vest that disappeared into his front pants pocket. Well last week I found
out what that gold chain was. Bull called me to his bedside and pulled out
this pocket watch and told me if I never let it stop, then I too shall be a story
teller like him. There was an engraving on one side with his name, and he
told me that the engraving was to his Father…whose real name was Bill,
but the engraver made a mistake. On the other side was a detailed engraving
of a crab. Bull then told me something that answered many a question.

When he was born he was set afloat by his Mother, who apparently was
deemed insane…and he was found days later on the coast of Alaska. All that
was with him was a blanket and this watch. He was raised by the locals there
and when he was old enough, they gave him the deed to property obtained in
the fishing trade…and so he set sail on his own and landed here to begin a
shoe repair shop. Funny thing is, he never really repaired shoes, just watches.
When he was done telling me his story, he placed the watch into my hand
and closed his eyes. It was his last story. So I am here today to pay tribute
to Bull, and to tell his story. ‘

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When I was done reading, there was only the sound of silence.
Then I heard it…the tick tock of the watch coming from my vest pocket.

I pulled it out, stared at it for a moment or three and was suddenly taken by an overwhelming need to smile. I was never so proud of anything in my life. I gathered my last words to those who came to celebrate my Fathers life…

“My Father was indeed a story teller. Many of you were blessed with these stories for many years.”

I held up the pocket watch, shimmering in all it’s glory.

“My son, William…will one day hear the stories told to me by my Father, and he too shall become a story teller…and he too shall inherit the gift of time.”

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I left the Chapel, and headed back through town.
The tick tock of that pocket watch echoed everywhere I went.
A reminder from my Father to keep the stories of Bull…alive.
Once in a while, I swear I could hear the sounds of seagulls soaring over

the Ocean…coming from my vest pocket.