A Tree Stump

Some take checkers seriously, so do I. I recorded my games without fail, in the little park located close by. Listen closely, you will like my tale. Under the umbrella of an old live oak sits a stump about chair seat high. Not many things in this life evoke such comforting tears to my eye. A marble statue now, cast in memory with so many names, a number beside. The board inlaid, made of emory, ivory, cast by an artisan in loving pride. The real stump looked much the same. I would challenge all comers of any age. No one but me ever lost a game. Beating me was a neighborhood rage. The checker board sat on the stump. I would log each name and the score. Allowing points for each kind of jump. Soon the board back held no more. The oldest challenger I had was ten. The thing was, if they won I got a hug. They knew I wouldn’t feel so bad then. Once hooked, from then I had the bug. Continuing as such in similar rendition, ‘Til came a letter from an art museum. It spoke of a piece commissioned by a local director of an atheneum. Excited I walked to the old stump looking for the name of the benefactor. As I saw the name I felt my heart jump. That small guy with the red toy tractor. © Oct 26 2010 Charles Henderson 7 th in Matt's "I fell in love with a tree stump" contest