POLLARD’S PLANK
Timmy Pollard walked through the high grass about two hundred yards behind his granddaddy’s old home. He kept steady eyes on the ground beneath his feet. He knew that there were snakes of various types that crawled around in the heat of summer and he surely didn’t want to be bitten by one of the poisonous varieties.
The grass was a mixture of green, brown, and beige. He was looking for something that he could use to be creative with. He fancied himself an artist and he remembered that there had been some wooden planks somewhere out in the endless jungle of grass, weeds, and vines. He had on a pair of briar-proof hunting pants that had once belonged to his late granddaddy back before he had passed away. Folks had known him to be one of the most successful hunters in the area. Timmy’s daddy had inherited several finely-crafted hunting rifles and some shotguns when the older Mr. Pollard had passed away. And Timmy remembered that his grandfather’s headstone in the local graveyard had the words GONE TO THE HAPPY HUNTING GROUND engraved upon it.
As Timmy moved along slowly, he came across a rotten board that had several rusty nails sticking out of it. “Why the heck would someone throw a board down with nails sticking out of it,” he asked himself. “Somebody could step on one of those nails and would have to go to the emergency room.” He saw the irony in his words, for his parents had been so frugal that they’d probably never think that stepping on a nail would warrant someone needing to be taken to the hospital. No, his dad would probably just try to fix the wound up and make Timmy or his brother, Tyler soak the foot in alcohol or peroxide. And after a few days, their dad would expect them to get back to doing their chores around the house like nothing ever happened. There was no babying folks around in that household. They were expected to be tough, regardless of whatever kind of accident may have happened.
Timmy walked a few yards more and he came upon a hardwood plank that still appeared to be in decent condition. “This’ll do,” he said. “This’ll do just fine.” He pulled the four foot long board up off the ground and brushed it off with his gloved hands. The board was approximately 8 inches wide, and was about 2 inches thick. He looked around in the nearby grass and weeds, but didn’t find another plank. But that didn’t really matter to him. He was satisfied with the one that he did find and wanted to make his way back home with it. So, he made his way back through the grass and weeds until he came to his old car that was parked in the backyard of the old farm house that used to be his granddaddy’s. He opened the passenger door and put the old plank in the back seat. Then he shut the door, opened up the driver’s door, got in, and cranked the old car. After a fifteen minute drive, he had arrived home.
It took Timmy thirty minutes of work to do what he wanted to do to the old plank. The work was hard, because it was harder to work with hardwood. But he was satisfied with what he created out of the wood. He had made a very-nice looking sign that had the words THE POLLARDS carved into the front of it. When he showed his parents what he had made, his daddy patted him on the back and said, “Son, that’s one of the finest signs I have ever seen.” His mother hugged him and said, “Timmy, you’re very talented.” Timmy felt very proud of himself. “Gosh, mom, do you really think so?” And the cute little lady smiled and shook her head. “Yes, I do.”
