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Sometimes it’s all I can do
To keep myself contained
When I hear the wind howl
With its’ low echoed refrain.
To hear coyotes’ yipping whine
In the middle of moonlit night
Makes me sad inside and
Frightened for the night.
Who’ll keep them company,
The wind, the moon, cowboy?
When coyote leaves this earth,
The silence will drive’em strange!

Tommy was sitting in the bleachers enjoying what was left of the basketball game when Mr. Ferguson climbed up the seats and sat down beside him. It was unusual for the track coach to do such a thing and Tommy knew it. It couldn’t mean good news.“I got to ask,” the coach started, “did you give out any free tickets tonight?” He was talking about the fact that Tommy had been part of the group that had worked the ticket window collecting ticket receipts for tonight’s varsity basketball game.

Tommy frowned at the older man and answered, “No!”

“Okay then, did you accidentally on purpose put any money in your pockets?” Mr. Ferguson asked.

Again Tommy answered him, “No!” Then he asked, “Why, is money missing?”

“Yes,” responded Mr. Ferguson, “About two-hundred dollars.” With that the coach got up and left the bleachers. He walked out of the stands, never looking back at Tommy. The young man looked over at his girlfriend, Debbie who shook her head sideways.

The following Monday, word had spread throughout Del Norte High that Tommy had stolen money from the sales of the basketball tickets. This made him a sudden target of every athlete in the school. It was a constant barrage of words that soon escalated into a pushing match in Senior Hall.

This was between Tommy and Steve who had confronted Tommy in the locker room just prior to lunchtime. The war of word continued until it grew into an all out argument. Finally the argument became a shoving match in the hallway just as the lunch bell rang.

“You’re a thief,” Steve said.

“Prove it,” replied Tommy, “I wasn’t the only one working the booth and there were two teachers there too.”

Steve stood there for a few seconds. It was obvious to Tommy that he hadn’t thought of that and the revelation that a teacher could be just as guilty as a student was even more provoking. Steve put his fists up as if he were prepared to fight.

“My girlfriend was in that booth last night,” he finally said, “are you saying she’s a thief.”

Tommy smiled, “You should go ask her yourself.”

Suddenly he found himself side stepping a fist. Steve was bigger and he telegraphed his punches. Tommy just pushed him onto the ground and stepped away.

Then he said, “You don’t want to do this, Steve.”

Steve slowly got to his feet. He looked at Tommy and ordered, “Yeah, after school behind the dugout.” With that he walked away, an entire group of kids following behind him.

It was at that moment that Tommy felt very alone. He knew that he couldn’t go to any of the school administrators or teachers. He felt certain that they too must all think he stole the money as well. And he found he didn’t have anyone backing him up in the way of students or friends as they had seemed to have disappeared.

The clock moved slower than ever from lunchtime until school let out. Tommy walked down to the locker room and changed into his gym clothes. “No sense in trashing my regular clothes,” he told himself. Then he walked down to the dugout.

He was surprised to see the number of people milling about, waiting to see if the two contestants would show up and if they did, would they really fight. Tommy was there just seconds ahead of Steve. They met in the middle of a circle formed by the crowd of onlookers.

The two combatants moved slowly around, sizing the other up. Steve had a taste of what Tommy was capable of and did not want to fall victim to another embarrassing event such as the one in the hallway. He waited for Tommy to stop and then he would strike.

Tommy halted intending to pivot. He discovered that he had miscalculated Steve’s reach, when he found himself sprawled on the ground with a blood nose. He scrambled to get to his feet but his head was hazy and he found his body heavy. Steve was on him, kicking and stomping him without mercy.

Tommy rolled away from him as far as the crowd would allow him. He was able to get to his feet, but just barely as Steve rushed him with both fists. They slammed into his head and face with brutal force nearly knocking him off his feet again.

These blows though were not half as bad as the first one, which laid him flat on his back and cause his nose to bleed. He had regained his composure amid the hail of punches enough to start blocking and then counter-punching. His first shot surprised Steve so much that the senior had to back up 3 or 4 steps from the freshman.

Tommy moved forward and sideways, throwing punches at the older kid’s body. They landed solidly and they were causing pain as Steve let out gasps for air each time he was struck. Then without warning Tommy decided it was time to use his secret weapon.

He spun around from his right to his left, unleashing a back-fist punch that struck Steve on the side of his head so hard that even the crowd heard his jaw snap shut. Tommy continued to attack the stunned fighter. He struck with a swift kick to the other side of Steve’s head.

This blow sent him crashing to the ground. Tommy jumped on him and struck the older boy in the face with both fists several times until his eyes were swollen, his nose bled and his lips were cut open. Only then did Tommy stop beating on him.

Steve lay on the ground unmoving as Tommy rose up and backed away. The crowd that had gathered around to see the fight had become quiet. Tommy remained still, waiting for Steve to move and get up.

It was only a few seconds, but Steve did sit up. He looked around and then at Tommy. Tommy had his fists raised. “Do you want more?” he asked.

Steve mumbled through his swelled up lips, “No.”

“Good.” Tommy turned and started to walk back towards the school. He paused and added, “And by the way Steve, I didn’t steal anything!” He said it loud enough so everyone could hear him.

The following day of school as Tommy was walking down the hallway, Steve stepped in front of him. He had a large group of kids with him and Tommy figured there was a good chance that he was about to get jumped. Instead Steve handed him two one-hundred dollar bills. “It was my girlfriend,” he said.

Tommy handed them back. “I don’t want them,” he said, “take them to the office.” With that Tommy continued walking down the hallway, turning into the library. It was the last he ever wanted to hear about the money and he never volunteered to work the ticket booth again.

For the last two or maybe three weeks I have been fighting a losing battle with a chair from the dinner table that seems to move on its own. It suddenly started doing this after I removed the center leaf from the table. I have come to believe we have a poltergeist in our home. Daily, I would move the chair back under the table, next to where the other chairs are and then somehow, someway it would end up next to the couch some 4 or 5 feet away. Then on other days it would be moved only three feet to in front of the kitchen island. It left me perplexed. I finally put the leaf back in the table just to make the ghost happy again and so it would leave the chair alone. It seems to have worked. This morning all four chairs were right where I left them last night. Then my wife says to me as she is heading out the door, “Thanks for putting the leaf back in the table for me. Now I don’t have to move the friggin’ chair around jus’ to read the news paper.” She really frightens me sometimes…

Dad grew up in Iowa’s snow country before moving to Oklahoma. Occasionally a light snow would blanket the valley floor along the north coast of California. But it would soon disappear as the sun rose to its summit in the daytime sky.

Miniature snowmen of about one or two feet would suddenly appear. It was all that could be mustered from such a snowfall. And riding a piece of cardboard down a snow covered hillside was no more or less exciting than a grass slope in the summer.

Yet snow of any kind would shut down school for the day. Every child dreams of this and must take advantage of it. It is an obligation to say the least.

When Tommy was eighteen he saw his first real snow. It was Thanksgiving Day in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Over two feet of the fluffy white stuff fell in a single sleep. Tommy thought all that snow was so exciting, until he had to dig his way out of his home.

Dad had told him and Adam about how the snow would drift so high against his parent’s home, which he would have to climb out the second story window just to get to school. Then Dad would have to walk two miles to get to school. Suddenly Tommy appreciated that story and found himself believing every word too.

He had just purchased a brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck also. The night before the snow fell, he drove it home from the car lot. Tommy was proud of his truck. Now he could go camping and fishing and hiking and he didn’t have to depend on anyone else for a ride.

Tommy walked out to the parking lot and looked around. Snow blanketed everything. Nothing looked the same, so Tommy did not panic when he could not find his truck at first.

He was certain he had parked the truck right there under the telephone pole with the street lamp on it. It was close to the curb, but now he couldn’t find the curb. All that Tommy could see was a gigantic mound of snow.

Then it dawned on Tommy and he felt a surge of panic. The snowplow had buried his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck under all of that snow. The pile was nearly thirty feet high and his next-door neighbors’ red Datsun was half buried too.

After calling the base commander and then his commanding officer, Tommy resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to wait to drive his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck. He ended up walking to work.

Two hours later Tommy was at work when he recalled what Dad used to say about not living in Iowa. “Here in Northern California, you don’t have to shovel rain,” he could hear Dad say.

It was late April when Tommy finally got to drive his brand new baby blue Ford pick-up truck.

At first I figured I really had nothing to write about. Then a friend at church said, “Have you ever made a list of things you find interesting about yourself?” She wasn’t speaking directly to me or the idea for an article, but her question triggered an idea. It took me a while and a little looking through a couple of other lists before I got a good idea of how to proceed. This is what I came up with for myself. The challenge is to see if you can create one of your own. Please feel free to use mine as an example. I am not afraid to cry at weddings, movies, funerals or from laughing to hard. I try to practice what I preach. I tell it as it is and not how I want it. I make people mad because I won’t kiss up to them. I like speaking to large groups of people. I like to preach the gospel when invited too. I am a show-off and a mild flirt. I do not read most newspapers because of their poor writing. I don’t watch the major TV news or CNN. I hate crossword puzzles; they’re a waste of my time. I enjoy researching information. I’m a good Uncle and a great Dad. I see things as they are rather than as they should be. I am not afraid to say what needs to be said. I am extremely loyal; even beyond reason. I wear tighty-whities. I refuse to play dumb. I am too hard on myself. I am too assertive to the point of being too aggressive. I am not afraid to tell a person that I love them. I am a Christ-follower. I know a little bit about a lot of stuff. I hate working on engines but love first aid work. I enjoy the company of women rather than men. I am capable of being very mean and vicious in a fight. I fight dirty and to win. I will kill if need be. I do not enjoy television sports. I am an alcoholic and I love the taste of beer. I can hold a grudge at times. I can also be very forgiving. I have strong legs and a quick temper. I do not forgive myself easily. I am an outdoor person. I like shopping at Wal-Mart. I am only one flavor; vanilla. There are other things I could put here, but for now this will do. Besides I have to leave something for later articles. Oh, and on one more thing, I don’t enjoy making lists.

 

Here are eight things I think might help just about any relationship. I base them on my experience and not much more. Okay, so saying ‘any relationship’ might be a stretch but they are some pretty good ideas.

1. Don’t interrupt while busy. For me if I’m busy reading, writing, on-line or watching the last of a television show, it is hard for me to have a conversation and concentrate on what I am doing. By the time MY pee-brain figures out that the conversation is the more important of the two items I am usually frustrated.

2. Minor household chores can wait. Really! Come home, have a seat and relax a while. The trash can, full of garbage will still be there as will be the sink full of dishes and so will the dishwasher which needs either to be loaded or unloaded. Chances are you might even end up getting help with these chores. (See #3)

3. You don’t have to nag. It’s called partnership or joining in. It works like this: If you want someone to do something invite them to help you with it. Don’t tell them that it needs to be done and then walk away. Also accept the fact that some people are born- procrastinators. I tend to be one of these people at times, other times I’m just being lazy.

4. Turn off the cell-phone at dinner time. It used to be ‘no telephone calls at dinner time’ was the rule. Now we have to be reminded not to leave cell-phones on during dinner time. I can’t stand hearing them in church either. Allow me to add that the television should be turned off during dinner as well. This should help encourage conversation around the table.

5. Accept compliments gracefully. The last time I heard somebody accept a compliment gracefully; she was 90-years old. Most folks think that I’m pulling their leg when I’m paying them a compliment or they act as if they knew it all along. A simple ‘thank you’ and a smile are enough.

6. Household dust is natural occurrence. This is something that I miss every time I clean house; forgetting to dust. I think it comes from the fact that I grew up near the ocean and didn’t have to deal with it as a kid. Here in the high desert though dust reappears in less than 15 minutes after a good wiping-down.

7. TV remotes aren’t for men only. It’s taken me a long time to say this and I say it only because it is ‘residentially correct.’ My machismo says I should be in control and just like asking for directions I shouldn’t have too, so I will not explain any further.

8. Use the vehicle horn. The vehicle horn has three purposes. One is to be friendly as in saying, ‘hello’ to someone as you drive by them; the second to remind them to move should they become distracted while at a stoplight and the third; anger, for doing something stupid that puts you and your life in jeopardy of an accident.

The instructor could over hear the two trainees talking. “Yeah, they call him ‘Mad-Dog’,” the one said to the other. Tommy smiled to himself as he thought back on how he came to end up with the nickname. It was years ago.Tommy was seven years old when he had a peculiar mishap. He was playing in the schoolyard of Margaret Keating Elementary just before the first bell. It was a game of freeze tag. The base was the northeast corner where the water fountain was. Tommy was a pretty good runner and had a good jump on whoever was chasing him.

That morning he was getting ready for school. It was the 2nd grade and his teacher was Mrs. Newquist. She had a love of birds and was teaching them all about them. This included hatching chicken eggs and raising chickens.

Looking back on it, Tommy chuckled and said to himself “It seems pretty funny now, that she should want to hatch chickens in a classroom.” He knew that most of the children could go out in their own barnyards and watch them hatch without some fancy egg-hatching contraption.

But hatching chicken eggs and bird lessons were not the only science experiment she liked to do. She asked that each child bring a paper towel tube with a wrapping of aluminum foil around it. Tommy had that with himself when he caught old number six for school.

It was still recess and school had not started yet and the children were playing tag. Tommy made a fast dash for base. At base the person who was “it” could not tag anyone. It was a free place to catch your breath and get a cool drink of water from the white porcelain fountain.

Tommy started to reach out for the wall with its aluminum sheet splashguard when he tripped on the sidewalk edge. He lunged forward and struck face first into the wall. Tommy had the paper towel tube wrapped in aluminum foil in his mouth.

There was a sudden flash of white light. It lasted only half a second. Then, a burning in his mouth that he could not stand followed it. Tommy spit, thinking that would cool the fire. When he did, he saw it lying on the ground amid the dark, red puddle of blood. It was his tongue.

The young child’s instinct took over from there and he started to run towards the woods. “Fight or flight,” his Dad used to always say. Tommy was flying. Somehow though, he gathered his senses and turned back and started running toward the school.

The corridor was long with red clay linoleum. Tommy looked back behind himself and could not see his blood except where it reflected against the morning sun through the open double doors.

Mrs. Zweirlein was the first to see Tommy. One moment she was wrinkling her nose as she peered into his mouth. The next moment she was a woman of action. She was telling Tommy to put the ice cubes she had handed him into his mouth. He did not want to because it hurt so badly, but Tommy did as he was told.

Things were becoming a blur to Tommy as every teacher at Margaret Keating Elementary had to come down and look in his mouth. They needed to see it for themselves. “Yep, it’s cut off,” said Mr. Biggers, the school’s principal.

Tommy’s dad soon arrived and took him to the hospital. At the hospital, the doctor stretched the two ends together and then ran some wires through the gaps in Tommy’s teeth and into his tongue. Then he wired the boy’s mouth shut.

He stayed that way for several weeks. Tommy drank orange soda pop and ate chicken noodle soup. He did not get to go back to school during this time, though the teachers thoughtfully sent him home a lot of schoolwork.

Tommy shook his head at the memories as they flooded his head. He had been in a number of fights over the years because of the difficulties associated with the injury. He had been called “Tongue Tied” and “Slobber Puss” as a child. He had even been labeled “retarded” by the school district after several unsuccessful years of speech therapy. But the label like the nicknames went away as he grew up.

“I’ve never seen a bull-dog salivate as much as you do!”” the Commander said to Tommy. Then he added, “You’re new call sign is going to be ‘Mad-Dog’, son.” The Commander smiled, and then dismissed the younger man.

“Guess if I have to have a nickname, this one isn’t so bad,” Tommy said to himself. Then he added, “It’s better than Tongue-tied Tommy.”

He stood up from his desk and prepared to face the new trainees.

Tommy was behind the rest of the group, who had already finished their initial interview with the doctor. But Tommy was left behind because the doctor wanted to ask more questions of him.

He was interested in the x-ray photograph of Tommy’s face where the left eye socket showed an irregularity. He needed to know how the hair line fracture occurred and why it wasn’t listed in any of Tommy’s medical records.

Once the doctor was satisfied that the old injury would be of no problem to the future airman, he sent him on his way. “Just go down the hallway and turn left, following the red line,” the doctor instructed. Tommy dutifully did as he was told.

The red line led to a doorway with a sign on it. The sign said to knock first and this is what Tommy did. A muscular man opened the door and Tommy stepped inside.

Once inside the muscular man went behind a long counter, reached down and pulled out a clear plastic container. He handed it to Tommy and said, “The restroom is right there.” He pointed to another door on the other side of the room. “Go fill it up,” he added. Again Tommy dutifully did as he was told.

Once he was finished he took the container back to the counter. The muscular man was not there, so he sat the plastic container on the counter and stood there waiting.

Suddenly the door behind Tommy burst open and a young man who looked to be in a terrible rush stepped inside the room. He had not bothered to read the sign that said knock as he just came in and closed the door behind himself.

He stood next to Tommy, his eyes searching around the room as if he were looking for the next thing he was supposed to do. With out warning he reached up and grabbed the plastic container of clear yellow liquid and started drinking it.

At the same time the muscular man returned from a side door behind the counter. He wrinkled up his nose in disgust as the young man finished off the last of the liquid.

The young man set the now empty container on top of the counter and smiled at bother Tommy and then the muscular man. Neither of the men smiled back.

The muscular man behind the counter lifted his brawny arm and pointed at Tommy, “You pass.” Then he pointed at the young man standing next to Tommy, “You, I want a word with.”

Then he added, “Just follow the red line to the right as you leave.” And even though Tommy felt very sick to his stomach, he dutifully did as he was told.

Later he would wonder what had happened to the guy who had been behind him.

It seems like I can’t get it through my thick skull that it is a new year. I keep writing out checks and letters and having to mark out the year because I put the wrong one down.

This has been a continuing struggle for me since I was in grade school. I can recall sitting in class and looking at the chalk board — yes, a real chalk board — thinking that by the time Christmas vacation and New Year is over with, we’ll be out of the 1960’s.

Holy cow! That’s some history there, Bubb…

My other thought is how my best friend all through grade school, Robin had looked so far into the future that he knew the year we were going to graduated from high school. He was very optimistic to think I would graduate because I wasn’t even certain I could get beyond Mr. Kirby and fourth grade let alone our Principal Mr. Fizer.

I had come to the belief he was out to get me after he throttled me in the hallway one morning, which is another tale altogether.

The next day, as we rode along on the big yellow monster to Margaret Keating Grade School, Robin calculated that we would turn forty in the year 2000. I was completely surprised by this idea because I knew for sure Jesus was coming back before then.

And being Catholic at the time, I had it on good authority that he was really pissed off. In both cases Robin had been right.

We did graduate from Del Norte High, class of 1978 and the last time I checked we were still alive and kicking, proof that we had made it to our 40th birthdays in the Y2K. Strange how things work out, huh?

Every since then I have looked slightly beyond the next day to see what might be on the horizon. It’s nice to have an idea in case I like to take my son fishing or on a photo shoot.

By the way, I’ll be 100 years old in 2060.

“Looks like rain to me,” Tommy said.

“Yes, I know, relied Cathy over the phone, “but Momma already called and confirmed the flight.”

Tommy just moaned, “Oh.”

“Don’t be sad Tommy,” Cathy said. She had expected this from him it hurt deep inside her but there was nothing that she could do. If only her mother had asked before making the arrangements to go to San Diego for Christmas.

Tommy attempted to make his voice sound as if it were okay. He struggled to sound stronger than he was as he said, “I’m not sad. I just miss you that’s all.” He continued, “Sorry if I sound so sad. I’m really not.”

Cathy knew better but she didn’t continue as she realized it would be hopeless. There was a long pause on the phone.

“Tommy?” asked Cathy.

“Yes?” answered Tommy.

“I didn’t know if you were still there,” she said.

“Yes, I am. I was waiting for you to say something,” Tommy said. Another pause came; it was shorter as Tommy said low into the receiver, “I love you, Cathy.”

She replied back to him, “I love you, too. It’s time to go. Bye-bye, Tommy. Don’t be sad and have a Merry Christmas. I love you.”

The telephone clicked into his ear as he said, “I love you.” He sighed as he hung up the phone.

Tommy knew that this was going to be a long and lonely Christmas holiday. His father was gone to Oklahoma to see family back there for the first time in years. His mother was still angry at him over moving to Fort Dick and buying land when she and Dad decided to divorce. So she wasn’t talking to Tommy at the moment.

Also, Cathy was going away. Tommy had nothing to do with that. Her mother had decided that she should come home from school for the holiday period. It would be hard on Tommy; he just hoped that the three week period would pass quickly.

The first few days were terribly slow and Tommy paced his tiny trailer like an animal caged. Cathy felt the same boredom as she would sit and wait for the mailman only to be despaired as he came and went without a letter for her.

Each night was spent with anticipation of the following day. Tommy wrote Cathy a letter each night as he had promised. He ended each correspondence with “I love you.”

Cathy used her nights equally by writing Tommy a book. She filled several pages each evening and wondered if she would have to get another journal. Her days were filled with helping her mother with “Share your Christmas” projects driving around San Diego County delivering boxes of food to families. Other times she longed to call Tommy or that he would call her.

In the meantime Tommy’s brother, Adam took the Greyhound to Fortuna to celebrate Christmas with Mom and their sisters. Deep down Tommy felt good that everyone was getting what they wanted for the holidays. But his mind lingered in the thought of Cathy. A sad loneliness caught up with him.

For several days Tommy rode his motorbike to work at KPOD then home again. He checked on the horse and completed his daily routine. Still every night he wrote Cathy letters and hoped she would come home soon.

It wasn’t until the seventh day when the rain ceased and the sun shown shyly from its lofty perch that Tommy started into town. He had just arrived at KPOD when the receptionist said, “A Cathy wants you to call her at home immediately.”

“Cathy?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, and she says you have her Arcata number,” the receptionist replied.

“Okay and thank you,” Tommy said as he took the pink piece of paper from the lady and walked into the back offices. In seconds he dialed her phone number and a mere few seconds later that Cathy answered.

“Hello,” she said.

“Cathy?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy!” Cathy shouted, “Oh, it’s so good to hear from you.”

“I love you,” Tommy said and he continued, “What are you doing back?”

“Well it’s a long story…” she started.

Tommy interrupted, “I’ve got all day!”

“Let me finish…it was raining so hard down there that I decided to come back early rather than get stuck,” said Cathy. “I got in late last night.”

“I’m glad you’re home,” Tommy said. “Look, I’m due on the air in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay,” responded Cathy, “I’ll see you in a little while. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Tommy said as he hung up the phone. He was all smiles as he picked up his headphones and walked down the short hallway and into the sound booth.

Cathy rolled across her bed, hanging up the receiver, while sighing a breathe of relief. She thought to herself for a moment, “I’m glad to be home and Tommy’s glad to hear from me. We will have a Christmas after all.”

Their reunion was a joyous occasion as Cathy and Tommy spent time making up for lost time. It was their being together that made the days pass so quickly. Christmas was upon them before either one realized it.

Tommy was invited to Cathy’s home for Christmas dinner. She served a small turkey with stuffing and gravy. There were mashed potatoes and corn on the side with golden brown biscuits.

After dinner they retired to the living room to share a brandy and eggnog. Tommy built a small blaze in the woodstove and the pair relaxed in the couch. The flames reflected on their faces as they sat and talked into the early morning hours.

Finally, Cathy said, “I have something for you.”

“I thought we said…” Tommy started. He was halted by her finger pressed against his lips. She got up and disappeared down the long corridor and reappeared moments later. She carried in her hand a plainly wrapped box.

“When I first saw it,” she said, “I thought of you.” She held it out to Tommy.

He took it in his hand and smiled at her. As he did, he drew her closer to him and kissed her.

“I didn’t get a present for you,” Tommy said, “All I have is…well, my heart for you.” She smiled and kissed him. Tommy impatiently untied the red ribbon from the white wrapper.

“The red ribbon is my bond to you, Tommy,” she said. He undid the wrapping, unfolded it carefully. She continued, “The wrapper represents me on the outside and the gift on the inside is my gift to you,” she finished.

Tommy looked up from the small glass bobble in his rough hand. A tear slowly escaped his eye and slipped down his cheek. In his hand he held a small heart. It was made of glass and was as fragile as a real heart.

Tommy looked at it as it lay in his hand and than at Cathy. He shook his head as tears fell from his chin and said, “I love you.”

A tear came from Cathy’s eye as she said, “And I give you my heart as well. I love you too.”

Thomas got up and hung the Heart of Glass upon the tree as he had done for so many years. He turned and said to Cathy, “I love you. Thank you for the gift; it’s still the best of the years.”

Cathy just smiled.

For years, every Christmas, that Heart of Glass was hung on the tree, a symbol of their love which after years of being together was as strong as it had been when they were young.