My old New Jersey home.
The Gentle Whisper of an Angel’s Call
By Richard Mabey Jr.
The gentle whisper of an angel’s call is subtle, calming and loving. Often times, it comes in the midst of night, in the midst of sleep, in a tender dream. Lately, I’ve dreamt of my old homestead in New Jersey. I truly am certain, it is with the whisper of a loving angel.
The simple scene of the potted flower on the steps of my Old New Jersey Home.
For lately I’ve been thinking about something I thought I had long lost forgot, a humble little flower pot with a purple flower growing from it. Nothing earth shattering about this dream, this thought; still it calls me back to another time, another place.
That very little flower sat upon the side steps of the old Mabey Homestead, there beside the wrought iron handrail. My dad and I put in that wrought iron handrail, one Saturday. It was during the time that I worked for the phone company. I remember that day so very well. We had to drill holes in the cement steps, it wasn’t an easy task at all.
Mom and I on the side steps of the old Mabey Homestead in the late 1970’s.
For a long time, there was no railing at all on our side steps. I remember that one Friday night, Dad and I were coming home from the scout meeting. Dad simply said to me, “I think it’s time we put a railing on these steps.”
And that was that. The next morning we went to Circle Lumber, out on Route 23 in Wayne and bought the wrought iron railing. By the time the sun set, that Saturday night, we had put up the wrought iron railing.
My dad and I were very close. On Saturdays, we often worked on different home improvement projects.
I miss my dad. I miss him very much. On May twelfth, it will mark ten years ago that he went Home to be with the Lord. Not a day has gone by since, that I haven’t thought about him. I loved him very much.
Today, I took a walk around the neighborhood. A neighbor, about four houses up from me, was building a shelf in his garage. He was using his electric drill. The sound of the drill reminded me of the time that Dad and I drilled the holes in the concrete steps to put in the wrought iron railing. Funny how these things go.
In many ways it seems like yesterday that Dad and I put in that wrought iron railing. In other ways, it seems like another lifetime. Time is such a strange thing.
Living here in Happy Land Gated Community, sometimes I’ll talk to some old geezer and he’ll start complaining about his kids. The usual bad mouthing and complaining. It’s then that I want to so badly, just grab the old curmudgeon by both of his shoulders, shake him up a little bit and simply say him to him; “you old fool, quit your belly aching about your kids. For Heaven’s sake, just love them!”
Sometimes you reach a point, where you’re just at the end of your rope.
But, what can you do? Some of these old fossils just love holding grudges, even against their own children and grandchildren. It’s one of the reasons that I’m at the end of my rope with this Happy Land Gated Community.
As dear old John Lennon sang to us, all them years ago, “love is all you need.”