Mr. Crane

When I was about 9 or 10 years old I used to walk home from school by myself. I would never dream of letting my boys do such a thing, but times have changed. I used to walk by the Fall River Firehouse. Mr. Crane was always sitting on this bench at that time of day. He was a gem. He was probably in his late 70's, early 80's. He had the same birthday as me. We would sit and talk everyday.

Some days we would cross the street to get a better look at a display of bottles that this lady had in her kitchen window. We would point out our favorites. Some days we walked around the block. He and I talked about a lot of things. He seemed to take me very seriously, always listening to my youthful insights with kind attention. I liked this old man a lot.

One Saturday I was just walking around my neighborhood and I saw him down the street from my house. I invited him in to meet my family. My mother had never heard of him. I could have sworn that I had said something about him. No one in my family had ever heard of him! I had been hanging out with him for well over a year but I had never mentioned it.