Thursday, January 05, 2006


Our grandson Sam and his friend Tim come to our house after school and wait until the parents come and get them.  We have lots of snow on the ground including one pile, that I have made with our front end loader, that is 12 to 15 feet high and the boys have attacked it with real vigor. I was shoveling around the yard and had the chance to observe and listen to them in action.  Both are soaked including their underwear.  Both have their jackets open, no hats, no gloves and both have tennis shoes on. There is a path of gloves, hats, coats and knapsacks all the way back to my truck.  Oh ya, the temperature is 31 degrees and the sun is setting. Both were sitting on top of their mountain sucking on big chunks of snow. They have a running dialog going about another dimension and the ghost of Packachura. They are alternating quiet talk and then almost screaming talk as they act out some type of ritual.  I can’t take it any longer, “does anyone want a hot chocolate with me?” “I do, Me to” as they fall off the snow mountain.  We walk to the house and I notice that they are taking about 20 steps forward and about 10 backwards.  I ask “what’s up with that guys?”. Sam answers “Were from another dimension and they keep trying to suck us back!”. “Oh” I respond.  Tim goes on to explain that “not only is Packachura a ghost but he is also the king of their old dimension and he died 1000 years ago”. “Thanks for explaining that Tim” I offer. This dialog continued all through the hot chocolate, the pieces of Honey Ham and the dill pickles.  Enough as my head is swimming and I have a headache.  I just figured out how these remembrances that we write about are created.  They all start out with little boys and little girls with really wild imaginations.

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