This book is a series of short stories centered in and around Michaelville, PA, as seen through the eyes of Grover Cleveland Walborn and the author. Although Michaelville is the fictional name of the author's hometown, it could be the reader's or anyone's hometown, as well.According to Grover has something for everyone ages 9 to 99.

According to Grover

By Bob Hull

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Bob Hull
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-5162-1

Chapter One

Grover Cleveland Walborn knew nothing about wrestling. But he knew a lot about rasslin'. He would tell you he could rassle a mountain lion right down to the ground and cut the lion's claws off. He kept the claws in a wooden matchbox that he carried in the pocket of his tattered old coat.

On cold winter evenings, everyone in Michaelville, young and old, would gather around the old, wood-fired stove that sat in the middle of A. J. Tull & Son General Store and U.S. Post Office, to play checkers, listen to the radio and listen to the old-timers tell stories. There was no TV in those days, so the stories, the radio, and checkers provided the only entertainment in town. Sooner or later, Grover Cleveland Walborn would bring out his matchbox of lion claws. Then he would, again, tell us how on the way from his house to the store, about two blocks, he had tracked a mountain lion, rassled him to the ground and cut off his claws. Some of the claws had blood on them. Mountain lion claws? Mountain lion blood? Naw! We all knew that Grover Cleveland Walborn worked at Rager's Turkey Farm and his job was to cut the burrs off the turkeys. But all of us, even our neighbor, Jack Lyle, were afraid to walk home anyway. Did Grover Cleveland Walborn really rassle a mountain lion this time?

Grover Cleveland Walborn lived alone in the old Walborn house on Trout Street in Michaelville. Some people said he never married. Others said he had married during the time he worked out West, but his young wife and baby son died during the flu epidemic of 1918. No one knew for sure. But in 1918, Grover Cleveland Walborn returned to Michaelville and his boyhood home on Trout Street. There was no doubt he was a unique character. Except for his work at Rager's Turkey Farm, he was pretty much a loner. He seemed to enjoy being with others, though. Many of his encounters with the citizens of Michaelville were memorable events.

* * *

Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you his cousin, Big Jim Walborn, was the best meat cutter "in these here parts." When anyone around Michaelville scheduled a beef or pork butchering, invariably Big Jim Walborn would be asked to be the head butcher. Invariably, he accepted. And, invariably, he appointed his cousin, Grover Cleveland Walborn, to be his assistant head butcher

In those days, butcherings were big social events which included huge dinners. Back then, dinner was the noon meal. You had breakfast, dinner, supper. Today, everyone calls the noon meal lunch and the evening meal dinner. Whatever happened to supper?

A typical butchering dinner would not include the meat that was being butchered that day. So, for a pork butchering, there would be roast beef, meatloaf, venison, chicken or turkey, gravy on everything, tons of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green peas, corn, pickles, relish, homemade bread, pies, cakes and ice cream. The butchering crews could number 15 or 20 or more. At one of our butcherings, my Mom served stuffed roast beef heart. Grover Cleveland Walborn ate almost one whole beef heart himself. Then he told my Mom how he could stuff three loaves of day old bread into a hummingbird's heart, roast it and eat the whole thing himself.

At our butcherings, my job was to tend to the fires. There were at least a dozen wood fires going, keeping giant kettles of water boiling, rendering lard or cooking ponhaus and liverwurst. The big game for kids at a pork butchering was to try to pin a pig tail on Big Jim Walborn's coat tail.

* * *

Grover Cleveland Walborn always said I was a sucker for a pretty face. So it was with Sophie. I saw her picture in the Lock Haven Express on September 15, 2008. The paper said her ancestors were from Tibet and Germany. I knew I had to see her in person. The next day, I drove to the place where Sophie was staying. I boldly walked into the lobby and asked to see her. Five minutes later, I looked into the big, brown eyes of this exotic, Eurasian beauty. For me, it was love at first sight. I was head over heels, slap-happy in love. Sophie, on the other hand, was rather aloof at our first meeting. But, I was persistent and visited her every day for almost a week. Her resistance broke down and Sophie started to like me a little bit. We discovered that we like a lot of the same things. Both of us like long walks in the woods, quiet dinners at home and soft, easy music. We both like steaks. I like my steak medium rare while Sophie wants hers extremely rare or almost raw. I like chocolate chunk cookies. Sophie likes biscuits. Her only flaw is she's an Ohio State fan. Well, no one is perfect. Besides, she likes Coors Light, so that makes everything okay.

In a very short time, Sophie has brought a lot of joy to my life. I think I've been good for her, too. You see, Sophie is a Lhasa Apso/Dachshund puppy from the Clinton County SPCA in Dunnstown, Pennsylvania. The folks at the SPCA, Chris, Mary Ellen and all the crew, made it so easy for Sophie to adopt us. They prepared all the paperwork. I was able to bring Sophie home on September 21, 2008. My sons, Keith and Kyle, and I were busy all week transforming our bachelor pad into a palace. Sophie is now the Queen of Our House. And Sophie is the only girl for me.

According to Grover Cleveland Walborn, the Texas Restaurant in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania, serves the world's best hot dog, the Growler. Rod Fowler always said he would rather eat a Growler than a steak . Residents of Michaelville stop at the Texas Restaurant on their excursions to Lock Haven so they can fill up on Growlers. Area natives, who live and work throughout the USA, stop at the Texas for a Growler when they return home, sometimes before they visit any relatives or friends.

The Growler is a work of art: a good, tasty frankfurter, lathered in mustard, smothered in onions, covered with the Texas' own special sauce, on a steamed bun. Can life be any better?

The Great Buddha must've been thinking of a Growler when he said "Make me one with everything."

* * *

Dr. Rod Fowler is retired from the University of Tennessee, Chattanooga.

* * *

Michaelville is about 8 miles from Lock Haven, as the crow flies. I never saw any crows flying from Michaelville to Lock Haven.

* * *

There once was a lad named Rod Fowler

Who would pass up a steak for a Growler.

To the Texas he went.

Fourteen dollars he spent

And almost ruined his boweler.

* * *

At the time of Rod Fowler's fourteen dollar trip to the Texas, a Growler cost fifty cents.

* * *

Whenever I eat ice cream, I always think of Cliff Vonnegut. Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you that Cliff never ate a meal without ice cream. Sometimes, ice cream would be his meal. In those days we neighbored back- and-forth, which meant we helped each other bring in crops. Cliff and his son, Bill, would come help us bale hay. A few days later, my Dad and I would go to the Vonnegut Farm to help them bale their hay. Another big social event with dinner. Even though my Mom was a good cook, I always looked forward to going to the Vonnegut's. Vera Vonnegut was a good cook, too. And they always had plenty of ice cream, usually homemade. And Bill had two good looking sisters, Betty Kay and Nancy.

I hadn't seen Cliff for many years. One day, I bought a half gallon of Hersheys Ice Cream and went to visit Cliff. He was glad to see me. We sat on his porch, ate ice cream, and talked about all the good times so long ago.

* * *

According to Grover Cleveland Walborn, Michaelville dozes on a big bend of Angling Creek, in the eastern end of Whitney Valley, about 35 miles, as the crow flies, from Whitney State University, home of the Whitney Lions. Trout Street, where Grover Cleveland Walborn lived, runs right into Angling Creek. That's how the street got its name. From the foot of Trout Street, you can still see big brown, palomino and rainbow trout feasting on the hatch of the day.

The residents of the Michaelville area were all hard working, God-fearing people. They were mostly dairy farmers who knew what an honest day's work was. They took great pride in their families, their homes and farms, their country, their John Deeres, Farmalls and Allis Chalmers, and their registered Canadian Holsteins. And they all voted Republican, every time.

* * *

I never saw a crow flying from Whitney State University to Michaelville. Neither did Grover Cleveland Walborn.

* * *

Baseball was not just the national pastime in Michaelville; it was a way of life. From the last frost until the first snow, every spare minute between milking cows, baling hay, milking cows, combining wheat, milking cows, picking corn and milking cows was spent playing baseball. Young and old played. Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you there were some great players in Michaelville. Cliff and Charlie Vonnegut, all the Walborns and the Mayes boys were scouted by major league teams.

Most of the adult games were played in a corner of Perry Walborn's old pasture. Farmers tilling the old ballfield today say they can still tell where the hardpacked infield was by the way their tractors gear down.

Most of the kids played Little League ball. And there was always a pickup game at the old Michaelville School field.

I had an indistinguished one-year career with the Lock Haven Little League Moose team. That same year, 1948, Lock Haven won the Little League World Series.

At least once every summer, Cliff and Bill Vonnegut and my Dad and I would go to Williamsport to watch the semi-pro Gray's at Bowman Field. It was baseball heaven! The Gray's had a left-handed catcher named Dale Miller. I've never seen a left-handed catcher anywhere else. Dale Miller went on to play for the Pittsburgh Pirates.

They also had professional wrestling at Bowman Field during the off-season. We saw Yukon Eric, Gorgeous George, Gorilla Monsoon and many others. Baseball and pro wrestling. What more could a kid ask for?

In 1982, my wife and I co-chaired a celebrity auction for the Infant Development Program in Lock Haven. I had a chance meeting with Gorilla Monsoon at Lock Haven University. When Gorilla Monsoon heard about our auction, he arranged for the then currently famous pro wrestlers to send us a gigantic box of souvenirs and mementos for the auction.

Gorilla Monsoon is still one of my heroes.

* * *

On any given Saturday morning, you can find me at the Bastian Tire and Auto Center on Washington Blvd. in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. I own four cars. It seems that one or another of the vehicles is always in need of an oil change, service, inspection or tires.

Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you that Bastian's best product is their fast, efficient, friendly service at a fair price. This is a rare commodity in today's marketplace.

Once I arrived at Bastian's at 4:50 pm with a tire problem. They close at 5 pm. There was no hem-hawing about my returning the next day. They fixed the problem and I was on my way before they closed. Over the years they've gone out of their way several times to provide that extra little measure of service. I don't mind paying for that kind of service. And Bastian's gladly accepts my money. Just ask Mike Bastian, the owner.

The sales area at Bastian's is generally a busy, cheerful place. But the lighting on their service menu reminds me of the lighting at a funeral home. So, when I die, there will be a funeral service at Bastian's, right under their service menu. I always kid them that their service prices are going to kill me, so I may as well have my funeral at Bastian's. Their prices are really very fair.

* * *

Whenever I see a church

I stop in for a visit.

So, when they take me in feet first,

God won't say "Who is it?"

Anon.

* * *

Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you that a church in Dickson City, Pennsylvania sponsored a plane trip to Hawaii. Travelers to Hawaii are always greeted by hula girls who give leis to the visitors.

The plane landed in Honolulu. A big, tall guy walked down the ramp. A hula girl approached the man, hung a lei around his neck and said "Aloha from Hawaii." The big man said "Grabowski from Dickson City."

Grabowski was a lifelong bachelor. On the plane trip, Grabowski met Stella. They really hit it off. Grabowski and Stella spent most of the time in Hawaii together. When they returned to Dickson City, they dated for a year or so, became engaged and were married. Stella wanted to go to Niagara Falls for their honeymoon. So, after the reception, Grabowski and Stella headed north on I-81. Grabowski was so proud. He smiled at Stella and patted her on the knee. Stella said, "Grabowski, we're married now. You can go further than that." So, he drove all the way to Buffalo.

Grabowski and Stella wanted to have children, but no children came. Physical exams for both indicated no problems. Still, no children. Finally, Grabowski and Stella went to see their parish priest and told him about their problem. The good Father said, "Tomorrow, I'm leaving for Rome, on a three-year sabbatical. When I get to St. Peter's Basilica, I'll light a candle for you."

Three years later, the priest returned to Dickson City. The first thing he did was to visit Grabowski and Stella. To the priest's surprise, Stella was not only pregnant, she had already had two sets of twins. But the priest didn't see Stella's husband anywhere. "Where's Grabowski?" asked the good Father. Stella said, "He went to Rome to blow that candle out."

Eventually, Grabowski and Stella had nine kids, three sets of twins and three singles. Yes, there is a Grabowski, Jr. And their baby is Stella Louise.

* * *

According to Grover Cleveland Walborn, the Gages lived on the East Main Street in Michaelville. They had a daughter, Diane; a son, Fred, about my age; and another son, Don, who was four years older than me.

In those days, the bigger kids looked after the younger kids. And the younger kids looked up to the bigger kids. So, Don Gage was one of my heroes. When Don was around 15 years old or so, when my Dad had to go away, to a farm sale or other farming business event, he would hire Don to do a list of chores that Dad thought were too hard or too heavy for me. Dad would give Don specific instructions on how to do the chores. Dad always paid Don two quarters in advance. As soon as Dad left, Don would give me a quarter, then he would go home and I would finish the chores all by myself. It was a good deal for both of us. Don had a quarter for doing nothing. And I had a quarter that Dad would never have paid me for doing the chores.

Don Gage joined the US Marine Corps as soon as he turned 17 and fought in the Korean War.

In 1977, Don was instrumental in helping me get the best job of my life. I'll always be grateful to Don Gage for all the quarters and for the great job. Semper Fi!

After his tour with the Marines, Don joined the U.S. Army and retired as a recruiter for the U.S. Army Reserve.

Don Gage's mother, Ethel, still lives in Michaelville at the old Gage homestead.

* * *

Grover Cleveland Walborn always said Mother Mary Lucetta, IHM, was a most formidable woman. One shake of her forefinger would strike fear into the heart of the most hardened criminal or truant. In Mother Lucetta's eyes, truants were hardened criminals.

Mother Lucetta was the Superior of the IHM Community and Principal of Immaculate Conception High School in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. When Mother Lucetta walked into a room, even a Protestant would know she was in charge.

I thought Mother Lucetta hated me. She had a good reason: I was not the ideal student. And I never did anything to make her job easier. But, somehow, I did manage to graduate. The last I saw a Mother Lucetta was at graduation in June, 1955.

In 2002, I found out Mother Lucetta was in an IHM nursing home in Scranton, Pennsylvania. I made arrangements to visit her. I gave her a beautiful red rose and a card inscribed, "As you slide down the banister of life, remember me as a splinter in your career." Mother Lucetta laughed and cried, shook her finger at me and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. We had a long, happy visit. I never saw Mother Lucetta again. She died peacefully in her sleep not long after my visit. I know there is at least one saint in heaven who cares about me.

Grover Cleveland Walborn would tell you not to wait 47 years to visit a favorite teacher.

* * *

Grover Cleveland Walborn always said the reason Earl Steele and I were good friends was because our families were the only ones in town who did not attend the Michaelville Methodist Church. Our family went to St. Agnes Catholic Church in Lock Haven. Earl and his family were Dunkards. The Dunkards were part of the Pennsylvania Dutch Plain People, much like the Amish in dress and language, although they drove cars with no chrome. The other kids sometimes made fun of our churches. Earl had a lot more patience than I did. I was not above fisticuff s to prove a point. But Earl never fought. He always used the peaceful approach. I always admired him for that.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from According to Groverby Bob Hull Copyright © 2009 by Bob Hull. Excerpted by permission.
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