This story was written by my nephew, Gary Crofts (17) on his blog. I read it yesterday and was laughing and crying at the same time. This story absolutely captured the essence of my dad and his special little tradition he does with the grandkids. Even when he flies here to Wisconsin to see his "Cheesehead grandkids" he totes the treasure box along! I called my dad after I read this to see if he had read it. He was so tickled that Gary wrote the story and that the grandkids love the treasure box so much. My dad made me promise that we would have it read at his funeral no matter what. Thank you Gary for letting me copy this to my blog. I could have never done the "magic" justice.
Ever since I can remember, Papa has had the Magic Treasure Box. Coming across the Atlantic from Spain, the miniature pirate's chest sits on the top of Papa's armoire and is usually brought out on Sunday evenings and special occasions like Thanksgiving, the Fourth of July, and especially the Grandkids Extravaganza. He used to send us to go fetch it, but NO PEEKING or else. . . "see this belt right here?! (he hardly ever really had one on) I'm gonna. . ." "Spank your bum!" came our reply. hahaha. Papa loves to tease. :) We'd go get the box and obediently keep it shut tight. Papa would be in a big chair with about ten grandkids all gathered on the floor around him looking up in quiet anticipation and astonishment. There would be excited whispers and suppressed squeals of delight. The Magic Treasure Box always had a certain air of mystery that hung about it. How it produced handfuls of saltwater taffy and chocolate kisses was always a topic of debate and awe among the cousins. Each time before the ritual began, Papa would slowly shake the box and take a quick peak to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was nothing inside beforehand. I could have sworn that one time he let me look all the way inside and it was completely empty - just as I thought it would be. Now that everyone was comfortably seated, the quiet had settled in, and the suspense was starting to build, it was time. . . Time to "Call the Magic." (Looking back, this sounds like a horrid voodoo ceremony arising out of the misty swamps of Louisiana. . . *cough cough* :-/ . . . haha but it was just wonderful and innocent excitement.) Papa's wide eyes and solemn countenance would do a slow scan of all our faces to make sure we were paying attention. Twenty wide eyes would stare back at him. The silence was excruciating. Finally, holding the Treasure Box on his lap, Papa's arm rose high above his head and the haunting strains of his shaking voice started to be heard, first very quiet and low. . . "Cooooooooooooooooooommmmmmme maaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggic." With each phrase Papa's hand made its descent, drawing the magic and its accompanying sweets into the box. "Coooooooooommmmmme maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggic!" Each call successively intensified in volume and gusto causing more and more excitement to boil up in our little hearts. "Briiiiiiiiiiinnnnng usss some CAAAAAAAANNNNNNDYYY!" If our eyes could grow any larger. . . they did. "NOOOOOOOOOONE of that NAAAASSTTYYY kiiiiinnndd ooooooonlyyyy the GOOOOOODDDD kiiinnndd!" By now Papa's thunderous voice was billowing throughout the house, his large flabby cheeks violently flapping back and forth, as the magic words flowed from his mouth, some of them indecipherable. We knew not whether they came from Portuguese Gispsies, Brazilian Indians, Louisiana Cajuns, or Mozambiquan tribesmen. "COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMME MMMMMMAAAAAGGGGGIC!" Papa was exhausted from all the work. As he asked for our help, ten little arms would spring into the air and with the anticipation spilling out of our capacities we'd let out a final shrill wail of "Cooooooooooooooooommmmmme mmmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaagggggic!!!!!!!!" We could hardly contain ourselves now. Again Papa stared at us with eyes as big as saucers and said in a whisper, ". . . Should we see if it brought us anything?" The lid of the Treasure Box popped open and there before our eyes was a bounty of sugary treats. A jumble of hands flew for the box in a chaotic scramble, each of us taking enough to fill our mouths and our pockets. Wow!! . . . He had done it again.
"...None a that gummy kind, only the chocolate kind!!..."
No comments:
Post a Comment