For quite a few years, we have made an annual pilgrimage to Idaho…land of potatoes.  Our daughter’s husband and in-laws used to grow spuds and we would, each fall, go and bring a load home for us and our children.   A few years ago they quit raising potatoes, instead, opting to raise sugar beets and grain.  With their connection to neighbors who still raise potatoes, we still make our annual trip to that neighboring state to bring home the food staple that almost all of us like.

            When the apple crop in our orchard is abundant, we take apples with us so they can have and share in our harvest.  This was one of those years when we had plenty of apples, so I took apples to Idaho and brought spuds back.

            The difference this year was that we weren’t able to spend as much time visiting our family there.  We didn’t arrive until late evening on Friday and only stayed until noon on Saturday.

            Before leaving for Idaho, with work matters pressing me, I had to squeeze a whole day of work into five hours.  This consisted of sending out my billings so I can get paid next month, picking up supplies for the jobs, picking up the payroll, going to a job where I had to make sure my electrical boxes and pipes were properly installed in the brick, dig a trench, bore under a walkway, install the conduit and bury it and grade the area that I dug.  Having done this, I still had to clean out my truck, load the apples and shower and clean up before we could leave.  When all this was done, I was so tired that my whole body ached, so instead of leaving when Nan got home from work, I had to have a short "power nap" to insure my alertness for the drive.

             With slow traffic due to an accident and an area of road construction, the drive took an extra forty five minutes.  We didn’t arrive until almost 7:00 PM.  Not getting any younger, I felt exhausted when we arrived and was more than happy to plop down in a soft chair in front of the TV until supper was ready to eat.  Waiting for dinner, I was nodding off, the fatigue wreaking havoc on my aching and tired body.

            Not wanting to miss some visiting with my daughter and grandkids, I continued to stay up and visit after supper.   

I have a grandson, eight years young, who is unusually perceptive when it comes to sensing others needs.  He seems to see the needs of others when it isn’t always obvious to the rest of us.  He will see someone loaded down or in a wheel chair, and go out of his way to open a door or do something to ease their burden.  If someone drops something, he is the first to assist them in picking up their goods.  It seems that he can perceive how people are doing or feeling.

            Now, I’m not saying that this young man is perfect.  He throws tantrums, and is mischievous as most any young man can be at that age.  He can hold his own while fighting with his brothers and sister.  When invited to do chores, sometimes it takes reminding him a few times…Just a normal kid.

            When the noise of the grandchildren and the TV got to be a bit too much for me, I decided to go to the shop where I knew my son-in-law was working.  As I headed out the door, Austin decided to join me.  He didn’t ask, only stated that he was going with me.

            My son-in-law and I get along really well, and we had a nice visit as he changed the oil on a tractor prior to the next morning’s work in the fields.  As I stood and visited with my son-in-law, Austin was spinning around in the shop on a John Deere tricycle that has seen a lot of use and abuse for several years.

            Still tired and aching from the work and drive, even though I was enjoying the visit, I was really starting to hurt.  I heard a noise from across the shop and here comes Austin with a chair.  It was one on wheels like we use in an office and the wheels were noisy in the concrete shop floor.  He pushed it over to me without saying a word.  I sat in it and relaxed, glancing at him sitting next to me on the John Deere tricycle.  He was busy watching his dad put the six gallons of oil in the tractor.  I gently reached over and touched his ear to get his attention, and told him “thank you”.  This perceptive young man casually said “you’re welcome” as natural as if it was part of his normal conversation. 

            Austin, with his intuition to help those in need, had again found a recipient for his good deeds.   Fetching a chair for someone, hurting and tired, will never be forgotten. 

            I’m sure his parents are proud of him.  He’s a fine son to them, one I am proud to call a grandson.