There once was a man from Nantucket….. (No! No! NO! Not that one stupid. Tell them the other one.) ~ehhhhhmmmm~ Oh Yes! Right! The OTHER one.
A Sonny Day
There was an old hermit who lived up on a mountain near a large lake. He had lived there all his life. He had little or no contact with other humans save for his Father who had passed on some 15 seasons ago. It was peaceful and quiet here, at least it had been until recently.
He often stood at the edge of the woods and watched as the city folk came to his mountain more and more frequently. They drove their shiny SUVs. Yes, he had heard them talking about these noisy mechanical monstrosities. He remembered that day fondly. The city folk always had to drive everywhere and this day they had found the path back to his rickety home in the woods. About halfway up the mountain, they found that large rut where the water ran down the mountain during the heavy rains. He watched from the woods as they pulled and pushed their big metal beast until they finally got it unstuck. He was amused as these city dwellers had to maneuver this ungainly thing backwards down the twisting trail. It wasn’t so shiny when they made it back to the dirt road at the bottom that followed the creek bed. He chuckled to himself as the memory waned. The city folk could come and go as they pleased. He didn’t care as long as they left him be.
He had rolled out of bed that morning to be greeted by the crisp morning air and the sound of the woodland creatures scurrying about. This was his favorite time of day. He stoked the fire. The rabbit stew he had made for dinner last night was very good. Good en0ugh to have for breakfast as well. The Ranger from the Park Service frequently brought him supplies of eggs, coffee and other necessities. “Necessities?” he practically laughed out loud. He hadn’t needed any of those things until the Park Service built the Fire Tower on the North Ridge and a worker stumbled across his quaint little shack. The ‘government’ insisted he take these items. He chuckled again as the thought crossed his mind. He had lived here almost 45 years, just he and his father, before the Rangers came. He would live out the rest of his days here, with or without their “necessities”.
It was a lovely morning. He cleaned up his breakfast and decided he would stroll down by the lake. Maybe catch a fish for lunch. The Rangers didn’t like him fishing with out a… what did they call it… License, but they overlooked him. He was spry for his age. Living in the mountains, you had to stay healthy, not like these large around the middle city folk. Again, he chuckled.
He made it down the mountain and across the creek. He didn’t follow the dirt road the Rangers built. He always went over the ridge and down the valley to the lake. He rarely saw anyone along his route. Occasionally, he would hear one of the Rangers going up the road or maybe a city folk’s SUV or two. Today, as he broke over the ridge. He noticed a vehicle stopped along the road. A young women stood crying beside the car. “What to do?” he thought to himself. Usually, he left the city folk sit in their fancy SUV’s until the Rangers found them. This time he thought better of it. The vehicle she was driving and the clothing she wore told him that this girl was not meant to be in the woods on her own. He could see, even at this distance, that she was panic stricken. He could see her banging away at something in her hand then shaking it repeatedly, after which she’d again burst into tears. He could hear her blasted wailing from the ridge. He decided he’d best go see what her problem was. “If nothing else,” he thought “she’d freeze to death in them skimpy trousers and that tiny little shirt she was wearing.” The days were warm here in the high mountains when the sun was out, but the shadows grew long quickly.
The young women leaned against her bright orange Ferrari sobbing in tears. “Why won’t this damn cell phone work?” she screamed at the device. It always worked. She used it almost constantly back home. She continued sobbing as she repeatedly punched the send key. “What does no service mean?” she mumbled. She didn’t even know what she was doing out here. She wasn’t even sure where out here was. She was lost and afraid. The two guys she had met in the bar the night before had taken off and left her to find her way back to civilization. She had never been to the mountains except when she and her Daddy went to Lake Tahoe snow skiing. “This is definitely not Lake Tahoe.”, she thought as the tears again began to well up. Suddenly, there was a noise behind her. She spun herself around to see a rugged looking man with a long scraggly beard and worn clothes standing beside her car. She let out a scream. The man startled back as if he was as afraid as she was. He approached slowly holding out his hand, as though approaching a wild animal. She reached for her purse. Fear again overtook her as she suddenly realized her purse and the pepper spray it contained were inside the car. A car that had not only broken down, but had the keys locked ever so securely inside.
Recovering from the shock of the young women’s scream, the old man approached cautiously. He only ever spoke to the Ranger, so his voice wasn’t quite ready to speak when he said “Are you ‘k missy?” He knew his appearance and speech were enough to scare the poor girl. “Dun be ‘fraid ‘f me. I’m not gun hurt you.” he stammered, half expecting her to take off running down the road. She didn’t. “You lost I’m guessin’. I kin takes you to the station over the hill.” He continued. She held up the device she had been pounding. He shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t know what it was. “My phone doesn’t work out here! My keys are locked in the car! The car is dead and Daddy’s going to kill me when he finds out where I have been.” He looked at her as he listened to her polished speech. “Yep,” he thought “she doesn’t belong out here.” She continued crying. He knew the Ranger would be along this way just before dark, but he knew she wasn’t willing to wait out here that long. “Y’all follows me. I gots a house up on the hill ore der. Y’all gunna be ok till the Ranger stops by lat’r tday.”
To his surprise, the young women followed him. He took her up the winding path to his rickety shack. She didn’t walk very fast in her fancy shoes. She made funny squealing noises as the mud and moss frequently came over the tops. They arrived at the shack where he offered her some bread and homemade jam. She looked at him. She was surprised that she felt so safe around this strange man. He made no advances, no attempts to take advantage of her. How ironic that the civilized guys she had come up here with turned out to be the savages and the rugged old man who lived in a rickety shack on the mountain turned out to be one of the most friendly people she had ever met. She related her tale of how she ended up clear out here. He told her stories of the city folk getting their shiny SUV’s stuck on the mountain. She found herself laughing at it all. She could easily be one of those silly city folk, but from his point of view looking through the window of his rustic life in this rickety shack, it was all just that… Silly! His broken simple speech was soothing after her morning’s terror.
They talked for what only seemed like a half an hour or so, when a knock came to the door. She was amazed that it was almost dark outside when the man opened the door. It was a US Park Services Ranger. He looked surprised when he saw her in her fancy skirt sitting on the bench at the old man’s table. The man muttered something to the Ranger. The Ranger had seen her car down the road. He had hoped she hadn’t wandered off into the woods. He offered the young women a ride back to the Ranger’s Station where they would make arrangements to get her car loaded up and her back to her home in the city.
She thanked the man for his kindness. She asked for his name as she knew her father would be interested. He again shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. The Ranger told her that for as long as he’d known the man in the rickety shack, he had never known his name. The Rangers simply called him Sonny, because up until the day his father had passed on, that was the only name he ever known.
The young women returned home to the city and related the tale to her father. At first, he was horrified. She related the day’s events and he began to realize that the old man had probably saved his little girl’s life. A couple weeks later, the young women and her father ventured out to the Ranger Station. They met with the Ranger who had brought her back to town. The three of them drove out to the old man’s rickety shack in the Rangers truck. They knocked on the door but no one answered. The Ranger opened the door and peered in. There on the bed lay Sonny. He had clearly passed away some time since the Ranger had been there the day before. Clutched in Sonny’s rough hand was a book of gathered scraps of paper. There was writing on the top page, hand writing. The Ranger read the scribbles. He hadn’t known that Sonny could even write. Tears welled up as he handed the paper to the young women’s father. The father looked at his daughter, his voice breaking as he read “Let that young missy with da fancy car know I’ve moved on and thank her for accepting this rugged old bloke. In all my years on this mountain, I’ve not met such a wunderful yung pursen.”
Later that summer, the young women stood by the memorial her father had built outside Sonny’s cabin. She had insisted that Sonny be buried on the site of his home. Rickety as it was. It was exactly that, a home. Sonny had made her feel more comfortable and safe in his little 2 room shack, than she had ever felt in the mansion that she had grown up in all her life, with its security guards and alarms of all sorts. She turned and gazed out through the woods for a moment. She walked down the path. Turning back only to blow a kiss to the unexpected friend, who, in such a short time, had come to change her life so much. “Goodbye Sonny” she whispered as she drove down the now oh-so-familiar dirt road.
