When I was little, my cousin Sarah and I gathered and Gram and Papa's house most weekends for sleep-overs to get away from our pesky little brothers. Gram would pamper us and Papa would sneak us an extra bowl of breyers' vanilla bean ice cream. We'd sit in the kitchen overlooking that opened up to this porch and make up stories about Sam the Squirrel. Sam the Squirrel always made it to the porch first for the nuts Gram set out. We also created a place at the table for him - a chair with books stacked high so he could reach the table. Unfortunately, he never made it inside despite the fact that I often opened the door for him.
Like Sam the Squirrel, Lester the Flying Crow was another friend that hung out on Gram and Papa's porch. He often stole the nuts Gram put out for Sam and his friends. Lester had his own song, which went:
Lester the flying crow
Who he is
We don't know
He swoops down into our yard
Maybe he's meeting friends or playing cards.
Gram, I always thought, was much more partial to Lester than she was to Sam. I loved Sam because I was convinced that he read books like I did. He always wore awesome Ben Franklin spectacles. Lester played cards and the only games I liked as a kid were Old Maid, Go Fish, and Crazy Eights.
I still sing about Lester when I see a crow flying about. Last week there was one outside my bedroom window. I wonder if Lester (or Lester's ancestor) made a trip up north to check in on me.
