Lily Pads and Life

The hot, late summer days seemed to drag by tortuously after Jake’s Grandpa Nelson passed away. His beloved grandpa had lost an intense, grueling battle with metastatic brain cancer.

Jake was grateful that his grandpa was no longer suffering from blinding headaches, frustrating memory loss, and debilitating seizures. However, the months between the diagnosis and his grandpa’s passing had gone by too quickly. For Jake, those four short months hadn’t been enough time. Cancer had robbed Jake of his most valuable asset. The invisible villain had stripped Jake of precious time, but he also knew that no amount of time with his grandpa would ever be enough.

Jake drove slowly along the gravel road alongside the American Legion, and carefully parked on the red clay bank at the edge of the large fishing pond behind the building. He sat in the front seat of his Grandpa’s old black Cadillac, still having a difficult time grasping the fact that the car was now his own.

Jake’s grandpa had left two things to him in his final will. The first was a beautiful black 1955 Cadillac Fleetwood, the same make and model that Elvis owned, only it was a brilliant black instead of bubble gum pink. His grandpa had taken care of the car meticulously over the years, and it was still in almost perfect condition. Jake had always secretly known deep down that the car would be his one day, but in that moment, he would have given the car up forever to have his grandpa sitting in the seat next to him.

The second item left behind in the will was a bit harder for Jake to swallow. He looked down at the paper check for $20,000, loosely held between his thumb and forefinger. What was he supposed to do with it? Grandpa Nelson knew that Jake didn’t need the money. At 28 years old, Jake was a young entrepreneur and business owner. He had been very successful, and he had enough disposable income. He didn’t need the Cadillac either, but the sentimental value and the memories associated with the car were priceless. If he knew Jake didn’t need the money, why would he leave it to him anyway?

Jake could feel the grief rising in his stomach, making it’s way up his chest, and slowly moving further as his throat tightened. He felt the sting as his eyes fought back the emotions that had become all too familiar lately. He closed his eyes, and the salty tears spilled over, streaming down his cheeks. He forced a deep breath, settled into the warm leather seats, and tilted his head back. Through the open car windows, he could feel the cool early September breeze making its way through the heat of the late summer afternoon. He inhaled the sweet aroma of the woodbine honeysuckle blossoms nearby, and he could hear the bees buzzing from blossom to blossom. Suddenly, a loud croak came from nearby and instantly pulled him from his trance-like state. Eyes open wide, he listened intently and heard it again, closer this time.

He walked to the edge of the murky pond, in search of the culprit that so rudely interrupted his thoughts. After only seconds, a large splash a few feet away caught his attention. Just beneath the surface, swimming right in front of him, was a massive bullfrog, as big as a football! It disappeared quickly beneath the duckweed, which had unfortunately invaded nearly the entire surface of the pond. Sadly, the duckweed had even choked out all of his grandpa’s precious water lilies.

After retiring from the Army, Grandpa Nelson spent most of his days at the American Legion with his old military comrades. Many of his fellow veterans were disabled, and several of them were in wheel chairs. One day while swapping tall tales with his old war buddies, they began reminiscing about their old fishing days. His buddies spoke of those days longingly with sadness in their voices, fully believing that it was something they would never be able to experience again.

But Grandpa Nelson wasn’t one to be defeated. He was a man of action, and he came up with a plan. He decided right then and there to dig a large pond, adding wheelchair accessible ramps leading down to the water. That way, he and his buddies could fish any time they wanted to, without limitations. He completed the project over a few months, calling it Wheelin’ and Reelin’. Afterward, he stocked the pond with plenty of catfish, bass, bream...and hundreds of lily pads.

Jake never understood his grandpa’s obsession with the lily pads. In fact, Jake couldn’t stand them. Many times as a kid, he joined his grandpa and friends to fish at the pond. Without fail, Jake’s fishing line got tangled up in the lily pads. While grumbling and fighting to recover his lure and hook, the bull frogs would lounge on the giant green lily pads, croaking menacingly while mocking him.

One time, Jake had all but begged his grandpa to rid the pond of the lily pads. Mad as a hornet, Jake complained, “I can NEVER see where the fish are hiding so that I know where to catch them! I am ALWAYS getting tangled up in those stupid lily pads! And aren’t lilies for girls?”

Grandpa Nelson’s eyes twinkled and he smiled. He then explained, “The lily pads are important. They provide rest for the frogs, which keep the biting insects under control. The lily plants also supply oxygen to the water, which is important in order for the fish to survive. The lily pads provide cover for the fish, protecting them from hawks, owls, raccoons and other predators, including you! And, Jake, you don’t have to be a girl to appreciate the beauty in something.”

Now, as Jake stood at the edge of the pond remembering his grandpa, he wished for even a single lily pad. Sadly, there were none to be seen. The duckweed had choked out everything. Jake thought about it, and he couldn’t remember the last time the pond actually looked healthy. Grandpa Nelson and the boys used to have it dredged and restocked every spring, in preparation for the summer fishing season. What had happened?

Something had to be done. Jake marched briskly up the bank toward the American Legion’s main building. Inside, he found a group of his grandpa’s old buddies sitting around a table looking at what appeared to be newspaper clippings. Jake must have taken them by surprise, judging by the looks on their faces.

Harvey, Grandpa Nelson’s closest friend stood up and and hobbled over to Jake. He said in a comforting voice, “I’ve seen you out there every day, son. And I’ve thought about coming down there to see you. But it felt like maybe you might need some time, ya know? The boys and I, we want you to know we are here if there’s anything you need. We miss him, too.”

Jake replied, “Thank you, Harvey. I really appreciate that. Actually, I wanted to ask about the pond. What’s going on with the duckweed? It’s out of control.”

The wrinkles around Harvey’s old blue eyes tightened, and he looked down at the floor and said painfully, “Yes, son. It has gotten out of control, and I’m sorry about that. Unfortunately, funds have been tight for a while now. Between the permits, the equipment, and the fish, well...we just can’t afford it right now.”

In that very moment, Jake knew what he had to do. He reached into his pocket and handed the check to Harvey. “Take this, Grandpa would want you and the boys to have it. I’ll meet you at the bank and sign it over to the Legion. I want you to take care of the pond, but don’t dredge it. Instead, get a pair of sterile grass carp, some tilapia, and some mosquito fish. That should cut down on the duckweed and offer a more permanent solution. Restock it with some catfish, bass and bream. Most importantly, reintroduce lily pads to it. The carp won’t mess with them, and it’ll give the other fish somewhere to hide. Grandpa loved his lilies, you know.”

Harvey’s eyes lit up and he walked over to his buddies and placed the check on the table. Each of his grandpa’s buddies made his way over to Jake for a handshake and a hug. Jake walked back down the bank to the black Cadillac, got inside, and drove home.

Three weeks later, he was sitting at his desk working when he heard a knock at the front door. He opened the door, and there stood Harvey on the front porch.

In his right hand, he held a little black book. It was leather bound, and definitely used. Harvey offered the book to Jake and said, “The boys and I wanted you to have this. It’s from all of us. Oh, and we did what you said with the pond. We should see a difference real soon!”

They chatted a bit more, and then Harvey hobbled to his car and left. Jake stepped inside and sat down slowly on the couch. He held the little book in his hands, and slowly turned back the worn leather cover.

Jake couldn’t believe what he saw. It was a memoir. Each of his grandpa’s buddies had taken the time to write a tribute, some including news paper clippings of his grandpa’s heroic deeds that Jake new nothing about. Many of the stories were from before Jake’s time, but all were filled with love and respect.

While reading page after page from the little black book, it became clear that his grandpa had left behind more than a chunk of money and a shiny antique car. He had left his family and friends with love, memories, and experiences. He would live on forever in the hearts of those who knew him, and in the stories they shared.