“Wooden items for a price, storytelling is free” – sign over The Wood Shed door in The Olde Fishing Village

Pap Wayne's Bench

Pap Wayne’s old wooden bench is empty; feel free to sit a spell, he’ll return shortly. Then again, if he’s down at the Dock to Galley Diner drinking coffee with Cal and Ben, you might have to wait awhile. When Pap Wayne does return, If you’re patient, he may entertain you with a story. Celia may have heard a few when she stopped by…

“Celia crossed the oyster shell intersection and turned towards a weathered little structure. Stopping in front of the building, a chuckle escaped her mouth. The old guy sitting on a rustic wooden bench in front of the building looked up; his large hands continued their work with a carving knife and a chunk of wood as his crystal blue eyes evaluated her intentions.

‘The Wood Shed,’ Celia read the building’s sign. She couldn’t help but ask the obvious question, ‘So, were you taken to the wood shed for a lickin’ when you were a boy?’

Pap Wayne slowly responded with a grin. ‘I wasn’t taken to the wood shed but I did get some switchin’s. My brother and I could be very ornery when we were kids.’

‘Your sign says, Wooden items for a price, storytelling is free. What kind of stories do you tell?’ Celia joined the old fellow on the bench.

‘Oh, most of my stories are from the old days. I kin tell ya all about American history, wars, planes, boats, trains and especially about the history of steam engines. I kin tell ya stories about forests, trees and all about wood or I kin explain coal and steel. Then again, I kin talk about photography. Some of my favorite stories are about my twin and me when we were small, towheaded boys’…

Watching the old guy’s hands work with the carving knife against the wood, Celia asked ‘How do you know what you want to carve out of a piece of wood?’

(You’ll have to read the book when it’s published to find out what stories Pap told. Wonder if he spun any tall tales?)

“… the aged hand pointed the carving knife down the street leading South. ‘Have a good day and don’t take any wooden nickels.’

With a grin, Celia responded, ‘My grandfather used to say that.’ Turning to leave, she gave a little wave.

Pay Wayne raised his fingers in a half wave and salute. With his legs stretched out, his ankles crossed and cap pulled a little low over his face, he returned to his wooden project as if it were the most important thing he had to do.”

copyright 2013 Finding Hope in the Olde Fishing Village, Blue Heron Cove

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