Albert

Albert

Every little town has their own special folks, Hartland is no different. When I was a kid there seemed to be even more than there is today. I never ever made fun of these folks; in fact I viewed them as my friends. That being said though, they were always getting themselves into some sort of fracas or another. And no matter how hard a body tried, you couldn’t help but laugh, many’s the time I would have to just walk away shaking my head.I have nothing but fond memories of these folks and I would never have condoned them being put in harms way, or seeing them in anyway hurt themselves.In this writing I will introduce you to Albert (not his real name).I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know Albert. He was always around town some where. Everyone thought the world of him, and none would have liked to see him get hurt or harmed in any way. Folks, for the most part, were good to him and most would go out of their way to help him keep out of trouble.He was a very polite man, better than most, and he was always smiling. That is unless he was upset over something, and usually his step Father had a lot to do with his foul moods.A very slender man; with hair only around the sides and back of his head, the top was bald. He very seldom went anywhere without a cigarette in hand or mouth. When he walked he stepped right along and he kind of bent forward ever so slightly, he even stood that way and it gave him the look of being bent.Now our little town is famous for a lot of things, none are more note worthy than our bridge; the longest covered bridge in the world. I used to work at my cousin’s garage which was located, at the time, right next to the bridge. Folks from all over the world would come, and they still do, to take pictures of the old wooden structure.One day we looked out and there was a huge crowd of them tourist all clamouring around the entrance of the bridge. They were taking pictures of something, and it wasn’t just the bridge.Curiosity got the better of us; we had to see what was causing such a back up in traffic. After all, it wasn’t every day that we would have a traffic jam right here in down town Hartland.The next town down river from us was Woodstock and every year they had what they called Old Home Week, they still do. It consists of a midway with rides and the like; all kinds’ of crafts and other such things. It is just what you would call a typical county fair. Anyway, Albert always made it a point to go to Old Home Week every year. But then most everybody did.This particular year there was a certain booth where you could win all sorts of things, and if I remember right, it had something to do with throwing darts. Well sir, one of the prizes was one of them Bobby hats like the London police wear, only it was plastic. From a distance it looked real. Somehow or another Albert wound up with one of them hats.A week or two before all this had happened; Albert had procured an old Salvation Army uniform for himself. He also had a small shinny plastic badge that he had pinned onto the chest of his uniform.Well what do you suppose it was that was causing such a commotion on the bridge? I looked up through the crowd and I saw him. There was Albert standing at perfect attention at the end of the bridge all duded up in his uniform and his new Bobby’s hat. And folks were taking pictures of him left right and centre. All the while Albert was looking right straight ahead not even blinking.Those folks thought he was supposed to be there, they actually took him to be the real thing.By and by Albert had himself enough of that project, and the next thing we knew, he was walking up Main Street, talking away to himself like he always did.

Now it just so happened that Albert worked for my Grandfather on the farm. The only thing I ever knew Albert to drive was a moped. He got so he was good with the thing and you would never know where you might run across him. He travelled all up and down the valley on the thing.One day up to the farm Albert gave me a scare the likes of which would turn your hair gray.We had been working up the hill at the upper potato house (commonly called the “tater house”), come noon time (commonly called “nose bag time”) my cousin, Marvin, and I were walking down the hill to the house so as to have dinner. I heard Albert start up his moped behind us. At the time I never thought anything of it.Then of a sudden we both looked behind us when we heard Albert a hollering. From that point things seem to almost go into slow motion. Marvin and I had just enough time to step out of the way as Albert went tearing between us on his moped. His legs were up and stretch out on either side of the front wheel and he looked right at me when he went by and said “no breaks Ranny (that was what Albert always called me).Marvin and I looked at one another with great concern and my heart sank right then and there. It was down hill all the way past the house and on down to the highway, with the river on the other side.With me and Marvin a running with all our strength down the hill after him I figured Albert for a dead man this time. All sorts of what ifs ran through my mind as I ran. But as luck would have it, Albert had enough presence of mind to steer to the right and off the road. It sure was a lot rougher ride but the tall grass and weeds helped to slow him down some just before he ran into the side of the lower tater house at the bottom of the hill.Marvin and I got to him just as he was picking himself up off the ground and lifting his moped back to the up right position. I checked him all over and he seemed to be fine. Thank the Lord.At the time it surely was no laughing matter. But after we seen that he was okay and that the bike was no worse for wear, well, like I said a body would just have to shake his head.Marvin and I being wily in the ways of keeping old bikes, cause we both had motor bikes, running, we fixed his breaks up right after dinner. And for Albert it was like nothing ever had happened.I know I will never forget the look on Albert’s face as he went by me and him calmly saying “no breaks Ranny”.Albert is gone now, but I remember him well and always will. And yes he was special…..very special to me.

Monday, July 19, 2010

RL Tex Smith