Waldo Emerson, My Grandfather, and Me: A Novel

By Eugene X. Perticone

When Matthew is almost twelve years old, his grandfather, Sam, decides its time for him to get to know the work of Ralph Waldo Emerson, a sage the boy has never heard of. During their frequent meetings, Sam introduces Matthew to Emersons sophisticated notions and wisdoms.

Emersons words, delivered in the essay Self-Reliance and in other writings, teach Matthew practical concepts that give greater meaning to life and help him successfully overcome difficulties for himself and his family. At the same time, Sam and Matthew develop a very special and loving relationship.

In Waldo Emerson, My Grandfather, and Me, author Eugene X. Perticone shows that although circumstances and the problems of life may seem different and more complex in our time, the best solutions havent changed much. The wisdom of Ralph Waldo Emerson as it pertains to both worldly and spiritual matters is shown to be as relevant today as in the time it was written, and a grandfathers approach to teaching this to his grandson results in happiness for both of them as well as many others in the boys life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491729687

Eugene X. Perticone

Eugene X. Perticone earned a doctorate from Rutgers University and maintains a private psychology practice. Previously, he was a college professor and an elementary school teacher; he also served in the US Army during the Cold War era. He is married, has four grown children, and lives in Upstate New York.

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WALDO EMERSON,

MY GRANDFATHER,

AND ME

A Novel

EUGENE X. PERTICONE

iUniverse LLC

Bloomington

WALDO EMERSON, MY GRANDFATHER, AND ME

A NOVEL

Copyright © 2014 Eugene X. Perticone.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2967-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2969-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-2968-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905325

iUniverse rev. date: 05/15/2014

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

1 There Is Always Your Grandfather

2 I’m Introduced To Waldo

3 Getting To Know Waldo

4 Opening The Book At Last

5 A Waldo Of My Own

6 A Sentence Before

7 Two Sentences After

8 Dad Learns About My Waldo

9 More Important Sentences

10 Sally Meets Waldo

11 Guiding Principles

12 The Principles List

13 About Solitude

14 Dreaming About Waldo Stuff

15 Filling Grandpa In

16 Thinking Isn’t Always The Same

17 Clicking With Grandpa

18 The Separate Intelligence

19 Choosing The Next Essay

20 Beginning The Over-Soul

21 Grandpa Teaches A Trick

22 Sally Gets Invited

23 Sally Comes To A Lesson

24 A Very Good Team

25 Something Ineffable

26 About Solitude Again

27 Wrapping Up The Over-Soul For Now

28 Beginning Nature

29 Miracles All Around

30 A Different Kind Of Consciousness

31 Putting Waldo To Work

32 Waldo Helps Some More

33 Grandpa’s Revelations

34 Lots Happening All At Once

35 Sally Visits Again

36 Bordering On A Revelation

37 Waldo’s Three Points About Language

38 Grateful For Waldo And Grandpa

With appreciation for the outstanding teachers I personally have known, as well as those whom I have met only through their writings

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I wish to express my sincerest appreciation for the time given and the kind editorial assistance provided by Dr. John B. Ruskowski, a competent professional and, more importantly, a highly valued friend. I would be remiss if I did not also acknowledge a separate intelligence that resides within.

PROLOGUE

This story indirectly concerns an adult male named Matthew who is presently settled in a successful career as a college professor. Having always shown a tendency toward introspection, and while ruminating about his family tree, he recently experienced an inexplicable inner prompting to rummage through an old trunk that had remained untouched in the attic of his house for many years. He justified this unexpected urge by telling himself that his purpose for doing this was to learn if any items of a once personal nature might still exist that were connected with his past or the pasts of his progenitors. If so, they would be of potential historical interest to his grown children, who had expressed curiosity about family members they had never met and therefore knew very little, if anything, about.

On searching the trunk, Matthew discovered a few articles of clothing, several high school and college diplomas, military insignia and medals, a multiplex knife, an old photo of a wooded and steep rocky ravine, and a box wrapped in white paper tied neatly with a faded blue ribbon. To his surprise, what was in the box was a manuscript of many pages, some typed, but most handwritten, seemingly by a fairly young hand.

As Matthew skimmed through the somewhat yellowed pages, he was startled to find that it was a detailed journal of sorts, written by a great-uncle mostly during the three or four years just preceding entry into high school. Of this uncle, he knew little except for the coincidental fact that he also bore the name Matthew.

As he read through the manuscript with eager interest, the present Matthew saw that the young author did not identify the various entries by dates, as would have been done by a typical diarist. Instead, the material was arranged in chapters, some of them probably transcribed in later adolescence. The language of the earliest chapters reflected the character and mannerisms of an intelligent and sensitive young boy, probably during the late 1940s or early 1950s. The later chapters showed increasing familiarity with the rules of grammar and an improving vocabulary.

Matthew was both astounded and intrigued by the depiction of the relationship of the youthful writer with his grandfather, who had set about the task of teaching his young grandson bits of the rather sophisticated notions and philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson, a sage of whom the grandson had never heard. How this was made possible and very successfully managed is described in the manuscript that the present Matthew has revised only in so far as punctuation and spelling are concerned. To maintain the integrity of the thoughts and apparent meanings they had for the young author, the colloquial speech is retained as originally penned. It clearly details a unique and very effective approach that made abstract transcendental concepts teachable to a young mind and, at the same time, reflected the very special nature of a loving relationship between a boy and his rather unusual grandfather. It also supports the view that although times have changed in many ways, the human problems faced in the past and their best solutions have probably not changed very much at all.

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THERE IS ALWAYS YOUR GRANDFATHER

I WAS ONLY ONE MONTH from my twelfth birthday when, on one rainy August afternoon, I found myself feeling particularly bored and frustrated because I had nothing special to do. The few simple chores that Mom had assigned me in the morning were already done, and it was a little too wet to go down to Old Mill Pond for some fishing. So there I was, sitting on the front porch, twiddling my thumbs while watching the raindrops come down and wondering what I could do to relieve the monotony. I was bored. No other kids my age lived near me that I could call on except Sally, my closest neighbor and best friend. She’s about my age and awfully pretty, and she usually wears her dark brown hair in a ponytail like I really love to see on a girl. But darn, she was away and, I hoped, enjoying her two weeks at a summer camp. I sighed deeply. Even going to school would be better than doing nothing , I thought.

Wanting to entertain myself, I had already spent almost an hour looking at Dad’s old fishing catalogs. But having gone through them so many times before, even they seemed boring. Feeling really frustrated by this time, I got up and went into the house to find Mom. She was busy at work in the kitchen cleaning some freshly picked vegetables, but when she saw the unhappy look on my face, she took off her apron and asked me what the matter was.

I don’t have anything to do, Mom, I complained. Sally’s not home, no one else is around, and I’m bored. There’s just nothing going on.

Mom nodded patiently, her fingers on her chin as if she was trying to come up with a solution that would please me. Have you finished that ship model you were working on? she asked. Or how about starting a new jigsaw puzzle?

Out of glue, Mom. And a puzzle wouldn’t be much fun right now, I answered.

Hmm, she said. Well, there is always your grandfather. Why don’t you pay him a visit? He’d love to see you, and you can bring Grandma some of the greens that I picked from the garden before it started to rain.

Grandpa! I almost shouted, my eyes lighting up. "Why didn’t I think of that? I could go over to Grandpa’s."

Mom laughed and nodded her head in satisfaction. I knew I had an open invitation to visit my grandfather whenever I felt like it, so I was sure he wouldn’t mind if I stopped over for little while. It wouldn’t be like horsing around with a playmate, but he always acted glad to see me and said that he enjoyed my company. And I truly liked being with him because he was nice and knew a lot about almost everything. Whenever I went to see him, he was busy working on something or other that was interesting. It especially was fun when he let me help him by fetching a tool he needed or holding a piece of wood for him that he was about to sink a nail into. Sometimes he even would let me do the hammering myself. It made me feel really good when I could help him with little jobs like that, and I could tell he was proud of me when he saw that I could follow his directions. More than once, Grandpa said that pretty soon he wanted to teach me some important things that a bright young man needed to learn. I didn’t know at the time if they really would be important, but I was willing to believe him. So grabbing my slicker from the hall closet, I told Mom that I would bring the vegetables to Grandma and then stay there with Grandpa for an hour or two.

I’ll phone them so they’ll know you’re coming. And give both of them my love, Mom said, handing me a bag full of leafy stuff. And with that, I set off on the half-mile trek to their little country house that Grandpa always called The Abode. I felt a lot better now with a clear goal in mind and sure was happier than I had been a few minutes earlier.

When I got to The Abode, Grandpa was sitting under the huge tree that spread over a big chunk of his front yard. The rain, that by now was coming down much more lightly, couldn’t get through the many overhanging branches that were loaded with big maple leaves. He was wearing his old blue overalls and a baseball cap, but no raincoat or poncho. Anyway, knowing Grandpa, he would still be sitting there even if he was getting wet, if he had a mind to. He was always pretty stubborn and didn’t worry much about things that would usually bother most other people, like the weather. Besides, he once said to me that rain is a natural gift of God for the earth. Then he laughed and told me that he wouldn’t melt even if he did get wet, so why should he worry?

As he sat there now, he looked pretty comfortable in the wooden Adirondack-style chair he had made long ago. But he wasn’t just sitting there; he was holding something in his hand and gently moving it forward and backward. At first I didn’t know what he was up to, but coming nearer, I could see that he was sharpening a blade of the pocketknife he always had with him. Actually, it wasn’t just an ordinary knife because it had different kinds of blades, including a screwdriver, can opener, and even a small pair of scissors that lots of times I saw him make use of. He told me he had that knife when he was in the army long ago and that someday it would be mine.

Looking up from his work as I drew near, he smiled at me and drawled, Well, hello, Matthew. He nodded his head—not to me, but to himself, it seemed. His smile got bigger as he added, I was expecting to see you today, and it seems I was right.

He rubbed a thumb across his shaggy mustache and looked squarely at me with a glint in his eye that signaled he had something to tell me he thought was very important. I waited but didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything either. He just kept his eyes aimed at me, still smiling like he was enjoying some private joke.

What are you doing? I asked, although I already knew the answer.

Honing, as you can tell if you take a look. He said it as if he was my teacher and we were in my classroom at school. It’s good to have a personal tool kit that’s small enough so you can always tote it with you, he explained. You never know when you’ll need it, but you’re sure to be ready if you have it handy when the occasion does arise.

Grandpa still had his eyes on me really steady as if this was one of those little things he wanted to make sure I remembered. Still smiling, he kept stroking the main blade of the knife as he watched me, once in a while putting a drop of oil on the stone. I just waited because I could tell that some kind of lesson was coming.

Did you hear what I said about expecting you? he asked.

I just nodded, but since he kept staring at me without saying anything else, I finally added, Yes, sir. That seemed to satisfy him some because he started talking again.

What do you think about that?

Not being sure what he was after, I simply said, It was a real good guess, I suppose.

There was no real comeback to that, just a Harrumph. It kind of made me a bit nervous. His smile was gone now, and he looked more or less serious, so again I just waited.

No, Matthew. It wasn’t a guess at all, he said. "The thought just popped into my head as a sure fact: Matthew will be here soon. He gave the knife a few more strokes, and then he felt the edge of the blade with his finger. And so you are."

Uh-huh, I responded.

Did you ever have something come to you that way? he asked.

I thought hard for a minute, searching my memory so I could come up with something that would satisfy him. Well, I was wondering if I would get a new fishing rod for my last birthday, and I did. Is that what you mean, Grandpa?

He shook his head. Nah. That sounds like you were trying to figure out the possibility, so you thought about what you wanted to get and wished you would. Tell me, were you expecting that a fishing pole might be your present?

My mind zoomed back to a few days before my last birthday and what I had been thinking about. Yeah, Grandpa. Because I really wanted a new pole that would cast farther than my old one. And I even hinted about it to my dad.

"That’s right, Matthew. You were talking to yourself about the possibility of getting the pole and what you could do with it if you did. Wishful thinking is what they call that. He waited a while, and then went on. You were doing a kind of thinking, but it’s not the sort I’m wanting to teach you about. He pointed a finger at me and looked to see if I was listening, I guess. When I say I knew, it wasn’t only the idea of you coming here or me wishing that you would. There was a very strong feeling that came along with it, the kind of feeling that you have when you absolutely know something, maybe even without knowing how you know it."

And that’s not a guess, is it?

I was finally getting interested in what Grandpa was talking about. And I even remembered some times when I went through what he had just described.

No, Matthew. It’s not a guess; it has a special name. Again he waited. "Intuition, it’s called. Then he wiped the blade of the knife with his handkerchief and put both in his pocket. I want you to remember that there is such a thing. It’s like there’s a smart voice inside that wants to let you know something that may be very useful for you. Do you follow me?"

I think so, I replied, but where does the voice come from? I scratched my head because I was puzzled. And how do I know whether I should believe it or not?

Ahh, Matthew, I’m real proud of you because those are very good questions to ask. It would be easy to be misled, wouldn’t it? And that wouldn’t be very good.

No, sir.

I knew that lots of times I talked to myself, but not out loud, and told myself what I wanted to hear, like what grade I would get on a test in school. But lots of times I was pretty wrong.

So how do I know if I should listen to what I’m thinking? I could get into real trouble if it’s trying to trick me or if it’s just not true.

"You’re right again, my boy. And we’ll have to talk about it some if we’re going to be sensible about that voice. But let’s not go too far too soon. For right now, I just want you to remember that there’s a special kind of thinking that’s different from your usual kind, and it’s really worth learning more about it. Maybe it would help if you call it listening rather than thinking, ’cause that’s what it really is. You listen to what something inside is saying to you. You don’t have to believe me, but I hope you do. And later on, I’ll be glad to tell you a few things I’ve learned about intuition and how it’s helped me. That is, if you’re interested."

Sure, Grandpa, I’d like that. I wasn’t only trying to please Grandpa just then. I also really meant it.

Good. Again he spoke as if to himself instead of me. Very good. And that brings me to something else I’ve had a mind to tell you for some time now.

What’s that, Grandpa? I was paying close attention now and could hardly wait to learn what he was going to tell me next.

Well, you’re just about twelve now, and I was thinking that it’s about time for you to meet someone I know.

Who’s that? I asked.

You could say he’s an old friend of mine. He snorted softly. "A very old friend, indeed."

Do I know him?

Nah, said Grandpa with a shrug. It’s not likely that you’ve run into him yet. At least I don’t think so.

But who is it? I asked again.

Later, Matthew. He brushed his mustache again. I’ll tell you later. Right now I think we should bring that bag of goodies to Grandma. They’re for her, right? He got up and started walking to the house, with me following.

Yes, sir, I answered. And then, Was that an intuition, Grandpa? I mean about the bag being for Grandma.

What do you think, Matthew?

I stopped walking, thought about it a minute, and replied, No, I don’t think it was. I bet you just figured it out in your head.

Grandpa stopped walking, too. He just broke into a big grin and then began to laugh. He even put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed it. I can see I did right in talking with you today, Matthew. You hit the nail square on its head.

With that, we both chuckled and went into the house to give Grandma her greens.

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I’M INTRODUCED TO WALDO

I T WAS TWO DAYS later when I was able to see Grandpa again. This time it was a sunny day, and I took my bike so I could get there faster. A lot was going on in my head since my last visit, and I wanted to tell him about it. Golly, I guess I also was pretty excited to meet the friend he told me about, and I wanted to know when I would. Grandpa had never mentioned him before, at least I didn’t think so, and I didn’t remember ever seeing Grandpa with anyone I didn’t already know. It was a little mysterious to me.

When I got to The Abode this time, Grandpa wasn’t outside, so I parked my bike and went right to the back door that opened into what he called their mud room. That led into the kitchen, where something good usually was cooking. When Grandma saw me, she wiped her hands on her colorful apron, came over from the stove where she was cleaning the oven door, and gave me a big hug.

Your mother called this morning to tell me you’d be visiting again, she said. And that gave me a good excuse to bake some of those chocolate chip cookies you like so much. So sit down, Matthew, and I’ll put them on the table. I’ll call Grandpa because he’ll want some, too. And lemonade for both of you, naturally.

Thanks, Grandma. It would be a treat, I knew, and I really appreciated it. What a lucky kid to have such great grandparents, I thought. I pulled a chair from the table and sat down.

Grandma went from the kitchen to the little dining room and from there into the hallway, so I got up and followed her. Samuel, she called. We have company. Nobody answered. She waited a couple of seconds, frowned, and then called again. Sam. Your grandson’s here, so get your nose out of whatever it is you’re doing and come see him. And with that, she shook her head, took me by the shoulder, and steered me back to the kitchen. I sat down at the table again, and Grandma put a plate of cookies and an empty glass in front of me. In a minute, she had also brought over a big pitcher of lemonade. That’s when Grandpa came in.

Well, why didn’t you tell me that the snacks were ready? he moaned. Then he rubbed his belly as if he was real hungry. But I could see the twinkle in his eye and knew he was just teasing Grandma.

Whoosh, she said, and put a plate and glass in front of him. Then she made like she was going to whack him or something, but instead she just put her hands on her hips and asked him, You know what you are?

Grandpa had thrown his hands and arms up like he was protecting himself, but he winked at me and said to her, Now don’t go calling me names in front of my grandson, Woman.

Oh, eat your cookies, she said with a laugh and went back to finishing wiping down the oven door.

So that’s what we both did. We started in on the cookies without saying anything at first and washed them down with the lemonade. They both tasted real fine, and I said so. When we finished, Grandpa got up and brought his plate and glass to the sink.

Let’s go into my den, Matthew, he said. I want to talk to you.

I nodded and put my plate and glass in the sink, too. Before we left, though, he went up behind Grandma and kissed the back of her neck. They sure get along great, those two.

Grandpa’s den was my favorite place in their little house. It had oak bookcases against two of the walls, a neat old desk in front of the window so you could see the woods outside if you sat there, a gun cabinet with a glass door that was locked, two leather armchairs, and some small oil paintings of neat outdoor scenes. It was real cozy.

Have a seat, he invited, pointing to one of the two chairs. He took the other one that was facing mine and sat down.

What have you been up to since the last time I saw you? he asked.

Nothing much, I replied. But I thought a lot about the thing you told me. He cocked his head when I said that and waited, so I went on. You know, about that intuition stuff.

I see. And what were your thoughts about it, Matthew? Tell me.

"Uh-huh. I wasn’t trying to think about it, Grandpa, but for some reason, stuff kept going round and round in my head like, all by itself."

Go on, he almost whispered.

Well, this may sound dopey, but one thing that came into my mind was that intuitions must be a really big deal. I took a deep breath because I expected him to make a little fun of me since that was pretty much what he had said to me two days ago. Grandpa didn’t make a sound, but I saw him lean forward in his chair a little bit.

I know that’s what you told me, Grandpa, I went on, only this was different. This time it wasn’t the same because the idea wasn’t coming from you. But it’s funny because it didn’t feel like it was coming from me either. It was kind of goofy because my mind was racing, like I knew something special was going on that was important. I didn’t know what it could be or why it was important, but I was positive that it had something to do with me and intuition. I was so worked up that I wanted to let someone know what I was feeling. But I knew I couldn’t tell them why I felt like I did. In fact, I really wasn’t sure myself, so I didn’t say anything to anyone. I guess it was like something big was going to happen, but I wouldn’t know if anyone would get what I meant by saying that.

Grandpa had one of those serious looks on his face again. And the more I talked, the more serious his face looked. I was waiting for him to tell me I was imagining things, but he didn’t. He just stood up and asked, Anything else?

Well, yeah, I said. I remembered once when I was about six years old, I sort of felt a lot like that. I was standing in our driveway waiting for Sally to come over and just thinking. And all of a sudden, I felt a thrill go through me like electricity. I didn’t know why, but I knew I was close to something big that was just out of reach. It was like I could almost get it, but not quite. I just knew it was important somehow, but not what it was. Maybe like an important discovery or something like that. What you said the last time I was here made me think now that maybe it was sort of like an intuition.

And did you find out what the almost ‘important discovery’ was, Matthew?

No, I didn’t, Grandpa. At least not then. I closed my eyes for a minute and tried to remember the first time it happened. But I figured I would know sooner or later.

Did it upset you when you had that strange feeling?

"Not really. I felt kind of happy about it.