COLUMN: Roaming around where God ain’t

I came across a poem the other day that brought such vivid memories to mind.

Back in the days when my grandson, Marty,—who is now 45 years old—was living with Friend Husband and me, along with his mother and sister, we had an experience that is forever etched in my memory. We have many memories of him, but some are more touching than others.

On a bright warm spring morning, Marty was helping me with some yard work out back. It came time for me to go in and prepare lunch for his mom and Friend Husband. He insisted he was not ready to go inside and actually the day called for outside time. I didn’t want to leave him, but he promised me faithfully (as faithful as a little boy can) that he would not leave the yard. I kept seeing him out the kitchen window as I worked with lunch. I’d hear him from time to time as well. Then I looked and didn’t see him nor could I hear him.

I called and called, but there was no response. His Granddad came and I still couldn’t find Marty. I became so upset I wanted to immediately call the police and get a search on the way. I thought it would be better, though, if I waited until his Mom got home, expecting her at any minute.

At about that time, my sister, Lois, brought Marty home. He said he had followed a dog from the yard across the highway down Florence Avenue and all the way to the traffic light. The station on the corner was open at that time and the folks there noticed him, but didn’t do anything about this little four year old boy out all by himself.
He remembered where one of his little friends lived and decided he’d go by to visit him, which meant he crossed the highway twice, all by himself. The friend wasn’t home, so he decided he’d go to his great-granddads shop and get some money for candy, then he’d make his purchase at the dime store and only the Lord knows where he would have gone then. Together he had already crossed Highway 41 about four times.

Lois lived in Johnsonville but worked in Hemingway and was on her way to lunch. She never, ever went up town at lunchtime but kept straight on Highway 41 until she reached her house. This day she, for some unknown reason, decided to go up town. She saw this little blond haired tot walking on the sidewalk all alone. She thought, “Now who would be so irresponsible as to let a child that young be out by himself?” Her next thought was, “Oh, my word, that’s Marty.”

She stopped and gently asked him where he was going. Of course, she offered him a ride for the rest of the way, but turned around and brought him home immediately.
The poem that brought all this flooding my memories is titled simply “Ain’t”

He was just a little boy on a week’s first day,
Wandering home from Bible School and dawdling on the way.
He scuffed his shoes into the grass, even found a caterpillar.
He found a fluffy milkweed pod and blew out all the ‘filler’.
A bird’s nest in a tree overhead so wisely placed up high
Was just another wonder that caught his eager eye.
A neighbor watched his zig zag course and hailed him from the lawn;
Asked him where he’d been that day and what was going on.
“I’ve been to Bible School,” he said and turned a piece of sod.
He picked up a wiggly worm replying, “I’ve learned a lot about God.”
“M’m very fine way,” the neighbor said “for a boy to spend his time.
If you’ll tell me where God is I’ll give you a brand new dime.”
Quick as a flash the answer came! Nor were his accents faint.
I’ll give you a dollar, Mister, if you can tell me where God ain’t”.