DURING the early spring of ‘49, Gunther’s parents left to go “find themselves.” After packing all their belongings into the back of the old, Ford pickup truck, they were off. Looking back at the city of Cleveland as it grew smaller, Gunther had no idea where his life was heading. He was five.
Being very carefree, Mr. and Mrs. Cole decided to leave their young son on his paternal grandfather’s farm. This would be the last Gunther saw of or heard from his parents. At first, Gunther was very confused and afraid. His “pa-paw” was a very large man and didn’t say much at first.
During the first summer, Gunther stayed pretty close to the house. The cows were loud and big, and smelled funny. The whole farm scene just seemed so overwhelming.
By fall, it was time for first grade. Pa-paw walked with his young grandson to school for the first few days. The one-and-a-half-mile walk home was the real scary part; he walked it alone.
By Thanksgiving, Gunther was actively helping with farm chores and asking a million questions. Most were school or farm related, but some touched weak spots for Gunther and his pa-paw.
Pa-paw, having been on the farm most all his life, didn’t always know how to answer some of those questions, but he tried. One of the hardest was when Gunther asked about his grandmother. The truth was, she had died while giving birth to Gunther’s father. So, that’s what he told the boy. To his surprise, little Gunther looked right back at him and said, “I guess me and my daddy weren’t meant to have mommies.”
The big man fought back the tears as he asked his grandson if he would like to help him make homemade ice cream.
Other conversations like this would take place, but not often. Most of their time was spent working, not talking.
By his first Christmas on the farm, Gunther had learned the important things. You know, making sure to be up before those lazy roosters and what “real” milk tasted like. Life with Pa-paw wasn’t so bad, and Pa-paw was thinking the same about Gunther.
First grade was a complete success, and summer vacation came up fast. Gunther was now six and earning more responsibility by the day. This was probably why Aunt Becky started coming over regularly. Allow me to explain ...
You see, Aunt Becky was a few years older than Gunther’s father and had spent most of her adolescence helping raise her little brother. After high school, she married and moved to the next county. Her husband had taken ill shortly after their son was born. The illness left him bed-ridden and in a nursing home for life.
After Gunther’s first year on the farm, Becky decided he needed some sort of mother-figure, and she and Cousin Eugene would visit regularly. Eugene was three years younger than Gunther and followed him like a shadow. He was a good kid who had a speech impediment that made the word Gunther come out Gunner. So, after a short time, Gunner became the name everyone called young Gunther. He didn’t mind the nickname, and things continued for yet another season. He was seven.
Farm-country air breathes a very life-enriching breath. For the children, there were always plenty of new adventures right at home. It seemed as though they were either chasing something, or it was chasing them.
A favorite was piglets. Once they would get up around twenty pounds, Gunner and Eugene would chase them around the “piglet pen.” After a few minutes, they would stop and stand real still. The piglets would watch for a minute, then begin chasing the boys. I guess all youngsters want attention.
During one particular instance, Eugene accidentally left the piglet pen’s gate unlatched and went home with Aunt Becky. In the morning, Gunner awoke to the hollering of Pa-paw, who was outside watching fifty-six piglets run wild around the barnyard. Well, Gunner went dashing down the stairs, out the door, and right after those piglets.
He ran around in a big circle, flapping his arms and acting just as he did when he would play chase in their pen. Pa-paw was not impressed. He thought that Gunner was just aggravating the situation. Well, after a couple minutes of this display, Gunner stopped, got quiet, and stood real still ... Guess what? Yup! Those piglets stopped, grouped up, and watched him stand there. Pretty soon the new chase was on. Gunner bolted toward the pen, and they charged right in there after him. Pa-paw shut the gate and promptly put Gunner in charge of all piglet affairs. He was still only seven years old.