Graf #9 Object

4301002

State of Maine, Maine drivers licence # 4301002. Issued by Maine Secretary of State Bill Diamond. This is what you will find printed on my most adored possession a Maine drivers licence from 1992. You will never see it, but if you did you would say whats so special about that? Its cracked, faded, hard to read, and you can't use it for anything. Well I use it as a time machine, as a way to go back to a special place were love was enough. Let me show you.

Hair: Brown or what was left of it. Pepe had cancer so I never knew him with hair. I used to like to pat him like a dog, it felt so cool. I have always had a shaved head for as long as I can remember, always wanting to be like him.

Eyes: Blue, just like the sky at the park we used to go to before his kemo treatments. We would hang out feed the ducks, and sometimes get ice cream. 

Height: 5'10", but you would not know it cause he walked with a slight hunch. As a kid he seemed ten feet tall and bullet proof. 

Weight: 165lbs of skin and bones. I remember most of the time he was like a stick, always sick. He never ate very much I guess it was to much energy or to hard to handle when it came back up. I can remember a time when I was very young when he was up around two bills and strong as an ox. He used to make home made spaghetti sauce from scratch. I can still smell it simmering on the stove. He cooked it for three days. The meatballs were the size of baseballs and oh so tasty. 

Sex: Male A mans man who loved working outside. He cut wood for the winter and took me out all of the time. We would go up to camp and he let me drive the boat. When I was young I remember him taking a blood sucker off my foot with his pocket knife. He always had a pocket knife and a .22 pistol with him. 

Restrictions: A for corrective lenses. Tan Miami Vice style glasses. I remember at night how he would place his glasses on the night stand before bed. I would put them on and run around the house. Once I even tried to stock the wood stove.
 M for medications. Pepe was on all sorts of meds. I never new what they were, but he would take a handful every night and I would get a vitamin too. Mom said the doctor offered him medical marijuana, but he said not a chance I have grand kids. 

The last thing he said to me: "Hey kid, Pepe loves you."

We used to walk down the road to get fresh eggs for breakfast and pick Meme up from the fudge shack as I called it. There was always milk in a glass jug and red hot dogs in the fridge. On the stairs leading to the basement there was an old, blue tool box. I used to take the knife in it outside and use it to dig up rocks. On my eighth birthday Pepe gave me a red Swiss army knife. He told me to be careful not to cut myself because the knife was very sharp. In less then a few minutes I cut my thumb. I cried like a baby until he picked me up in his arms and got me a band aid. 

At dinner he would always sit at the head of the table and help me cut up my food. He was always the first one done. I suppose his eating habits came from his days in the army. He was apart of the trucking company in Korea. He never spoke much about his time at war. He always said he was trying to stop bad men, and not to worry about it quickly changing the subject. 

We used to sit together in his chair and watch MASH. I remember watching him closely studying his every move. He would take out his old corn cob pipe and pack it. It was always cherry, vanilla flavored pipe tobacco. He kept his pipe in his blue jean jacket, next to a small leather bag full of tobacco. Next to his chair was a cool glass container filled with tobacco and a rack that could hold four or five pipes. I remember how he would bite the end of the pipe and every so often take a puff. He always smelled like pipe tobacco, and I loved it. To this day when I'm feeling blue I sometimes can smell that tobacco. When I was little he bought me a small corn con pipe of my own, so I could be just like him. No tobacco of course. We had the same velcro shoes and hair cut. 

When it was time for bed we would go into the bathroom and shave before bed. He used a ceramic bowl with soap in it and a whisk. He would lather up and shave with a straight edge. Sometimes I even got to shave too. Every night Pepe would have a package of Zebra cakes and a glass of milk for a bed time snack. When he knew I was coming he would buy an extra box just for me. He always wore blue pajamas, and set his teeth on the night stand. He had a hairy chest and wore a necklace of Saint Christopher. When I had trouble sleeping I would play with his big, old, floppy ears until I fell asleep. I have no idea how he could stand it, but he did. 

October 27, 1993 was the day the cancer won and the day he left me. It was a cold fall day in Maine not to uncommon. The leafs had changed color and begun to fall, but not as hard as a little boy who had just lost his best friend. 

So this is not a normal drivers licence, it is a licence to travel in time. A way to relive the past or step back in time, even if only for a moment. It is my way of finding that which has been lost, and my way of remembering what was, what is, and what will be. 

Lester F. ST Louis

Rest In Peace 

For ever your loving grandson Jeremy.