“Life is like a sharp stick…”

Grandpa started lots of stories with sharp objects. Sharp knives. Sharp stones. Sharp minds. Sharp eyes. And of course, sharp sticks.

“Life is like a sharp stick. Sometimes you poke your eye out. Sometimes you poke somebody else’s eye out. Sometimes you might even mean to do it.”

“Ah c’mon Grandpa. You never poked somebody’s eye out, didja?” Mona was always the most skeptical of all the grandchildren. She thought Grandpa’s stories were too crazy. Like he was some old coot, which is what he called lots of other old folks around town.

Grandpa rubbed his chin and looked up at the ceiling. Then, he looked right at Mona. “You may be right, child. I never really did see what I poked. I just seen the blood on the end of that sharp stick.”

Charlie, Mona’s younger brother, laughed.

Mona tsked. “That’s terrible to laugh at, Charlie.”

Grandpa got serious. He looked right at cousin Charlie. “Your sister’s right, y’know. Pokin’ somebody with a sharp stick is no laughing matter. And neither is being a peeping Tom.”

“A peeping who?”

“Shut up, Charlie, and let Grandpa tell his story.”

Charlie stuck his tongue out at his sister. I laughed at the exchange. My sister and I did the same thing all the time. Actually, all of us cousins did the same thing. We were like siblings. Always together. Always listening to Grandpa’s stories. All fifteen of us.

Grandpa looked around at his brood of grandchildren before continuing. “Well, there was this fella around town who people said was lookin’ in people’s bedrooms or into their front rooms. He’d just put his face up to the window with his hands cupped around his eyes like they were bi-noc-u-lars or maybe shades to keep any light out of his per-i-pher-al vision.” Grandpa always seemed to prounounce each syllable of longer words so he could make a point of them.

“Well, this peepin’ Tom came around here one night. I didn’t know it was him at the time.” He pointed to Mona, then to Charlie. “Your mama saw him looking in her window with those hands around his eyes. She was in her PJs, so she screamed. She didn’t know how long he’d been there. Whether he’d seen her nakedness or what.”

Charlie asked, “Is that when you poked his eye out?”

Grandpa shook he head. “Nah. I never saw him there peepin’ in your mama’s window. In fact, I never saw him at all. But I did see somebody or something when I went out to take a leak in the woods. I was just zipping up my drawers when I saw something moving in the bushes in front of me. I took my stick and poked into the bushes a couple times. Then, I heard a scream and somebody lit outta there.

“Next day, people said they saw that peepin’ Tom around town with a bandage around his head covering one eye. He told people he walked into a sharp branch while he was walking around in the woods at night. I laughed at that when I heard it told around town. But it was his story, and he was sticking to it.”

Grandpa sat back in his rocking chair. He stopped talking.

Charlie shouted, “Wait! That’s it? What about the peeping Tom? What about life being like a sharp stick? What about???”

Grandpa smiled. “Life _is_ like a sharp stick.” He looked directly at Charlie. “So don’t go peepin’ in people’s windows if you don’t want life to poke your eye out.”

Everybody but Charlie and Grandpa laughed.

Charlie looked directly at Grandpa. “Wait a minute. I know who you’re talking about. You mean you poked George’s eye out? George down at the gas station? George who wouldn’t hurt a fly?”

Grandpa nodded. “Yup. Life poked his eye out ‘cuz he was a peepin’ Tom.”

Charlie hissed. “Pshaw! That stinks. You didn’t even really tell us about life being a sharp stick. You just told us that you poked somebody’s eye out.”

Grandpa rocked back and forth in his rocking chair. “You may be right, Charlie. You may be right.” He stopped rocking. “Just remember…” He looked around at all of us. “Life really is like a sharp stick. It can poke and jab you. It can make you uncomfortable. Just remember, sometimes you can poke life back.”

Grandpa winked at Mona. She smiled.