Golden Oldies

The mention of Charlie’s wife brought back memories of her accidental death five years earlier.  Thankfully he found a new love, this time with Ann Quate.  He’d phone her in the evening with a report about the black box.  Hopefully there’d be more to tell her then the sketchy story Charlie had at present.

Charlie glanced around the roomy log cabin.  Like all the cabins and the lodge, it was built more than seventy years earlier from pines cut from the surrounding forest.  The logs still glowed under coats of varnish.  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.  This sitting around waiting got on his nerves.  He craved action.

Pausing a moment, Jimmy smiled.  There always seemed to be a smile lurking behind even his most solemn expression.  “I’ll bet Ron could tell some wild stories about your escapades way back when.”

“Rub it in, Jimmy,” Charlie said while he too smiled.  “That was before I went off to Northland College.”   He referred to his and Jimmy’s Alma matter in Ashland Wisconsin.  Except for streaks of gray in his black hair and a few wrinkles in his bronze complexion, Charlie felt he and Jimmy could be mistaken for brothers.  Charlie looked at his watch.  “Nothing better to do, I’m going to read Ron’s note again.”

Jimmy stood and looked out the window at Squaw Lake.  “We could always go fishing.”

Charlie nodded but didn’t stand up.  Unfolding the note he’d received along with the black box, he began reading:





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