What’s the oldest things you’re wearing today?
When he comes down to the city of Mortame Valley, he is treated respectfully because that’s what we do in Mortame Valley. No one really knows him or his family background. He never attends a local church, club, or event. Some say from his home on Marvel Hill, he sees everything important that goes own down here.
If he owns more than one garment, the fading and well worn cap, tie-dyed t-shirt, and faded blue jeans must be his going-to-the-valley outfit. The older folks say his cap is from his Army days, although no body knows for sure he ever served. He never talks about things like that.
When he talks, he always seasons each conversation with a scripture verse. People love talking with him, mostly to try and figure him out. A direct question about his past always gets an unexpected response which has nothing to do with his childhood, military service, or origins.
“That’s water under the bridge. I am no longer that man. I am new.”
That’s how he answers or something similar. Then, he follows it up with a Bible verse and a confession.
“‘Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!’ The old nature still remains, though, so I try to forget the past and press on.”
That sort of talk – “the old is gone,” but it “still remains” – is why some call him foolish. Someone commented “that’s silly” once. He replied with what looked like a smirk on his face to me.
“‘But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.’”
I see him – I don’t know his name. Some call him Jake. Some call him Jack. He answers to both. Jake or Jack and I are both at Paisley’s Hardware. He pushes a long flat cart loaded with lumber, nails, and lawn care supplies to a gray ‘54 Ford pick up truck that looks as though it had just come off the assembly line.
I walk out with him and help him load his truck with the hardware purchases.
“Is this the oldest thing you own?” I ask trying to poke a peephole into his past.
“Nope,” he finishes tossing the last item into the bed of his truck thwarting my feeble attempt or so I thought.
“You own something older than a seventy year old truck?”
“Yup,” his pert answer only encourages me more.
“What could you own older than seventy?”
He doesn’t answer, but goes to the driver side of the truck and opens the door. I start to give up when he ducks his head into the cab of the pick up. As I start to turn and walk away, he pops back out.
Holding it up in the air, he waves a well-preserved, but obviously often used Bible.
“This was my grandfather’s. He gave it to me when I was a teenager,” his eyes light up, his voice louder than his usual mumbling, and he smiles. The first time I ever saw him smile. He grins and you detect a spark in his eyes quoting scripture, but this is a full blown smile.
“Who was your grandfather?“
He doesn’t answer but approaches me while he opens the biggest, blackest Bible I ever saw. I shrink back a little. I am not sure I want my friends seeing me read a Bible or being preached to by the Fool of Marvel Hill. But I straighten with pride because I break through a barrier to learn something of his family.
His bony fingers point to a page of this open Bible. There at the end of the neatly nail-trimmed finger is an inscription.
“To Jack: Life can overwhelm you and keep you from understanding the contents of this book. Or the contents of this book amply applied can keep you from being overwhelmed by Life.”
“Are you Jack?”
The old fool grins, “No one’s ever asked me my name before.”
I felt ridiculous.
Categories: Inspiration Short Story
Douglas Knight
I have the rich life full of a sinner wounded by misunderstanding and punishment but blessed by mercy and forgiveness.
Knight Writer 