Memories Of An Old Friend

By Keith Gibson

It was another beautiful warm summer morning as I headed my trusty 1964 Chevy pickup up the Duck Creek road to visit an old friend at the rustic cabin he lived in during the summer months.

I turned off the main road, eased through the chokecherry bushes and up a steep hill.  At the top of the hill I glanced over toward the cabin and caught the glimpse of something in the sky, above the trees.  It was darting from side to side.  Looking through the binoculars I finally determined it was a kite.  A regular kid’s kite.

I knew right away that kite flyer was a 72 year old kid named Bonnie Mesic.  He was there in front of the cabin, when I drove up.  Now it is understandable that everyone gets a longing for their childhood days and flying a kite is one of those things.  However, this overaged kid was flying this  kite with his fishing pole. Unusual? Not for this character.  I grabbed my video camera and recorded the event for posterity.

This historic demonstration of kite flying soon ended as he tried to buzz the cabin and managed to wrap the kite around the brick chimney.  He explained that it wasn’t his kite flying expertise.  It was because somebody built the chimney in the wrong place.

The actual purpose of my visit was to help him BBQ some turkeys for a wedding.

We gathered up some mahogany and set the burn barrel on fire with a not so small explosion.  Then we went into the cabin and he got the turkeys out of the cooler for me to stuff  and sew up for the spit.  One of them had a huge piece of the breast missing.  His explanation was a riot.  He had placed the cooler on the screened porch and left the living room door open to get a nice flow of cool air moving through the porch.  During the night he was awakened by a loud thump.  He grabbed a flashlight and checked out the porch.  Nothing suspicious, so he went back to bed.  He stayed awake and listened.  Soon there was a small thump and moments later a large thump.    This happened two more times and so instead of going back to bed he hid in the living room.  Soon he heard a small thump from the cooler.  He shined the light on the cooler just in time to see the lid start to raise up.  Then a tiny pair of eyes gleamed in the light, followed by a piece of turkey held in the mouth of a weasel.  The weasel jumped out of the cooler and ran off with the meat. The lid thumped down and the mystery was solved.  The problem was cured by putting a heavy weight on the cooler lid.

I stitched up the gaping wound as good as possible and we put the turkeys on the spit.  Not one person noticed anything wrong.  Everyone agreed that the turkeys were great.  Anything cooked over mahogany coals is always great.

It was another perfect day in my bag of lifetime memories.