A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year-old grandson. The old man’s health was diminishing. He grew more forgetful and frail each day. His hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, his balance was unreliable, and he constantly forgot where he left his cane.

The family ate together at the beautiful wooden table that the old man had made eight years earlier and given to his son and wife as a wedding present. But the elderly grandfather’s shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult for him. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk often spilled on the tablecloth. One evening he dropped his dinner plate which crashed and shattered on the floor. His grandson gasped, held his breath, and watched worriedly at how his father would react. The grandfather cringed, then apologized, “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Sorry.”

This accident was the last straw. The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess and his increasing helplessness. Sorry was not enough to keep the tablecloth and floor clean. “We must do something about father,” said the son exasperated. “I’m done. I’ve had enough of this – spilled milk, noisy eating, food on the floor, broken plates, forgetfulness.”  

So the husband and wife set a bench and small table in the corner. There, Grandfather was served dinner in an old wooden bowl. There he ate alone while his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson ate dinner at the main table. Each night the young boy stared sad-eyed and quiet at his grandfather’s sad face as he ate his food alone in silence. When the old man’s son or daughter-in-law spoke to him it was always intoned with impatience, disgust, or anger. A dropped fork or cloth napkin falling to the floor was enough to evoke a nasty stare or admonition from one or both of the married couple.

Taking it all in, day after day, night after night, the young boy watched in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child, “What are you making?” The boy looked up at his father and responded sweetly, “I’m making a bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.” The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.

The parents looked at each wide-eyed and wide-mouthed. Their silence was loud. No word was spoken.

That evening the small table was gone from the corner. The husband took his father’s hand and gently led him to the family table. From that day on, he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

♦ I remember using this story about twenty-five years ago in a homily. It is a well-circulated tale. This story is at least two centuries old. The above is my embellishment of the various versions that are in circulation. Its source is most likely a story attributed to Leo Tolstoy called “The Old Grandfather and the Grandson.” A similar tale can be found in Grimms’ Fairy Tales.

~ Friends, I am taking some time off from posting any new writings. I will keep offering Life-Lines on Mondays and TUESDAYS WITH STORY each week. Keep checking, I will be posting essays again before long. ~ Dan