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Friday, Sept. 23, 2005 | ||
What do you think of this story? | Uncle Buds weather rock
By RICK RYCKELEY Most normal people only remember bits and pieces of their childhood days. The time before the time they became adults. Before words like responsibility, achievement, career, and marriage seeped slowly into their minds to soak up all the memories memories of those happy carefree times when we were children. Well, people that know me will quickly tell you that I aint normal. Thats why I can remember stuff like a certain uncle and his weather rock. Uncle Bud had a very special rock. Special not because of the color (a mossy green on top with splashes of black and brown down the sides). Not because of the height (just over three feet tall). And not because it was shaped like a giant egg with a piece broken off the right side (the piece of rock broken by the impact of Bubba Hankss bike one afternoon). Goof had snatched Bubbas hat again and thought he could make a quick git-away by hiding behind the weather rock. Thought he was safe till Bubba crashed into it. The bike, Goof, Bubba, and Bubbas hat tumbled down the hill and ended up in a crumpled mass at the bottom up against the chain link fence. Next to them lay a chunk of the weather rock about the size of a football. Uncle Buds rock was indeed special, but not because of any of those reasons. The rock was special cause it was the only one of its kind in the entire neighborhood - probably the entire world. It was a bonified weather rock. Uncle Bud lived clear on the other side of town, past Mt. Olive Elementary School, past the 7/11, past the DQ with the lemon-lime-brain-freeze-floats, and even past the old green water tower with the rusty signs warning us kids not to climb - a warning we ignored on regular basis. It was the water tower where we were held hostage by Bully Brad and his new gang for an entire day. But thats another story. This storys about Uncle Buds one-of-a-kind weather rock. Anytime we had an important event coming up, like the Flamingo Street Football Championships, we consulted the rock. The weather rock could always be counted on to know what the weather was gonna be like. If Uncle Bud looked out his kitchen window and the weather rock was wet well it meant it was raining. If it was dry, meant it wasnt. If it was warm when he touched the rock, meant it was sunny, and if it was cool, meant it was cloudy. And if he couldnt see it at all from his window well, that meant it was time for us to go to bed and stop bothering him. The weather rock was always right in its predictions of how the weather was gonna be. The rock predicted the Great Snow Storm of 67. Everyone thought wed just get an inch or so of snow. Not Uncle Bud. During the snow storm he went outside and measured how much had accumulated on top of the rock and said, Looks like we gonna get five inches. He and the weather rock were right, of course. The summer of 72 Uncle Bud noticed the slimy-green moss on top of the weather rock had all but dried up. Hence his forecast of a drought that lasted over two years. The weather rock was always right predicting the weather when I was growing up. Not so right were the weather guys on television. They were almost always wrong. Guess they didnt have their own weather rocks. For eight years we lived on Flamingo Street, and for all of that time we always knew what the weather was gonna be. Things changed. So did we. We grew up, moved away, and sadly, Uncle Bud died a few years later. His house was sold to a family who had no clue about the meteorological treasure of the century they had tucked away in the back right corner of their backyard. The family dug up the weather rock and had it hauled away. They put an in-ground swimming pool in its place. The Wife and I are building our dream house in the big town of Senoia. If all goes well, it should be finished in about six weeks. One of the landscapers was clearing the backyard when his bulldozer hit an oddly shaped rock. He wanted to haul it away and dispose of it. After taking one look at it, I told the landscaper to leave the rock. Soon we will have a wonderful house with a see-through fireplace in the front room that leads to the sunroom that overlooks an elegantly landscaped backyard. And in the far back right corner of our backyard stands an oddly shaped rock about three feet tall. Shaped like an egg with mossy green on top and splashes of black and brown down the sides. Our very own weather rock with a piece the size of a football broken off the right side. | |
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