Ping!

Our daughter-in-law, Hilary, and Noah, then three and one-half, flew in from Salt

Lake City the day before Halloween, 2004. The day was warm and sunny, and Noah, Hil

and I put up a spider- web on the holly bushes in front, and added black streamers around the door.

Later, Noah and I played with Lincoln logs, cars, and toys, and we listened to
Johnny Mercer singing the song he had composed, “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the

Santa Fe.” After dinner, while Sandy and Hil picked up John, who was flying in from a

business trip on the east coast, Noah and I played “airplanes”; I was a Delta. Using our

long-handled hand sweeper as a “tug” attached to my belt loop, Noah backed me up from

the "gate," then at his signal I ran down the "runway" with my arms spread to take off.

 We stepped out onto the patio to listen to the water tumbling down in the wall

 fountain, ran around on the grass with our arms spread, looked up at the beautiful bright

 full autumn moon and saw repeated flashes of lightning in the distant southern sky.  We

 heard the occasional ping of acorns striking the cedar shingles, falling from the tall native

 Blackjack oak trees that formed a canopy over the roof.  Then, while lying on the

 grass, we watched gray clouds glide past overhead.  Each time the wind picked up, we

 listened to the rat-tat-tat of pings from showers of acorns dislodged by the breeze.

Somehow, that experience was magical, and forevermore I think of that night with Noah

when I hear the acorns begin to fall in autumn.