MY RADIO FLYER

My Radio Flyer has assumed a position of importance in my life. I received this red wagon as a gift from my late husband. His offbeat sense of humor was tickled by the idea, when I had mentioned that I needed something to move things around in the yard. I found a wheelbarrow to be too heavy and awkward for me to manage, and I was always needing some way to transfer plants, branches, and other debris that seems to accumulate. At first I was embarrassed to be seen pulling my red wagon around the yard. I would wait until there was no traffic on the nearby road and if a car chanced to come by, I'd drop the handle and appear to be busy elsewhere. Now , I pull it proudly and say, "What do I care if my wagon is getting worn and a little rusty? So am I." If anyone is embarrassed to see a little old lady pulling a red wagon, that is their problem. I will never forget the day the village "bad boy" stopped to see if I needed help! I have hauled load after load of wind blown branches from the silver birch tree in my yard over to a nearby field. In the fall, it drops millions of leaves on the ground around it. I rake, and bag and haul them away in my trusty wagon. I have just cleaned and prepped my flower beds for spring and loaded planters to haul back to their summer place. Each Monday I take my plastic bags filled with garbage from their cans down the long driveway to the bin for collection. Some are heavy so I transport in my Radio Flyer. My garage is across the road and anything I store has to be taken there. I have made many trips back and forth with items. Just yesterday, I needed a shelf for towels in my bathroom and I knew my daughter had a nice one stored there. So I took my wagon, loaded it carefully and gingerly pulled it up the driveway to my home. I have had a hard time accepting that I am not as young and vigorous as I used to be. Due to bad knees and back , I cannot lift and tug to things as I once did. I always enjoyed doing my own painting and papering, changing furniture around . Now I have to wait for some one to help. One fall from a ladder is more than enough. I just have to accept that at my age, I need help and not be too proud to ask for it. Anyhow, back to my little red wagon. I was telling my gentleman friend how much I depended upon it. He confided to me that the only toy he could remember getting from his father was a Radio Flyer wagon. His father died when my friend was five years old. Perhaps his father knew how useful the wagon would be, as my friend used it for years helping his family. He gathered many a load of firewood for them. So he could relate to my realization that like diamonds, "Wagons can be anyone's good friend." And to my late husband, a belated "Thank you, it was a wonderful gift!"