Their wooden boxes now are split, from top to bottom base. The dirt of long years past has been spit on them with rain. They tried to hold it back, the years began to win. To bad, it seems, they tried so hard, their best, to save their case.
Then comes along this fellow known as Walt, who said:
"I'll pay ten and hope it works, by gosh, it should but if it not it will be used for parts, some here some there, to use or fix some other relics from the past. To make them work instead."
Walt then loaded them all up. The trunk was small, just right. The parts were still in the place as found. The great old dials now spoke to him with lights he knew where there, somewhere. They would all soon glow, if at all, brilliant in the night.
This old man, with gray and speckled beard, gave it a whirl. He took it all apart, "Why?" I asked, he said, "Just for fun". He put this and that in there, to make it work. It finally did. Without any smoke it fired up. He smiled a smile for this old girl.
He turned the knobs, it roared with sound. Stations came to life. With W and K they each were known, some far some near. They spread the skies with noises, songs, and voices far away. I wondered how he did it. "He just knows", said his wife.
And thanks to all who listen. These stories yet are told. Of guys like Walt who all remember the way it once was done. And now who can fix those radios put away in silent barns. With but a tear I shed for it is I, who now can only wish I could.
All about Walt Wrabek, age 92, 10750 150 Avenue, Menahga, MN 56464.
Written by Del Tysdal, 6500 Highway 10. Glyndon, MN 56547 Deltysdal@aol.com
Thanks for sharing
Del; Thank you for saying so eloquently what many of us feel but are unable or unwilling to do so.