The Ballad of Willy Rand

The Ballad of Willy Rand

I met him on the well-worn track,
A jaunty grin astride his face,
Making good time with sturdy pace,
Never pausing to look back,
As if the future bid him haste.

And I, a trifle gaunt and weary,
With years mounted high upon my back
And wispy gray locks not a lack,
Tentatively stepped aside merely
To assure his time would not a waste.

“Ho, ho”, said he, with eyes a gleam,
His journey now halted temporarily.
Surely he wasn’t talking to me?
Yet, he continued, “It would seem
Your face bears some familiarity.”

“Are you not my teacher Mr. Carey,
Who filled the daytimes of my youth
With formulas and words of truth,
Whose patience was near legendary
When I was but a boy contrary?”

Startled by his recognition, I,
Peering at him through musty rims,
Sought to draw up memories dimmed
By sunsets that had gone flying by,
Ignoring my plea to stay a while.

Embarrassed, and still no name recalled,
My lips would not their silence break,
No courage found to question make
To him whose face seemed not appalled,
Or afraid that his effort prove futile.

Sensing my predicament, he
Proffered his name in manner offhand,
“Tis your former pupil Willy Rand.”
And then with friendly gaze sought to see
Even a hint of recognition in me.

Venturing now to meet his eyes,
And with “Willy” echoing in my head
I quickly through a score of years sped
To a country schoolhouse of modest size,
The laughter of children floating free.

And now with years lifted off my back,
Before the blackboard once again stood I,
As a roomful of faces caught my eye,
With happy smiles not a lack,
Except one boy seated near the back.

Yes, certainly his family I well knew.
His father, derelict, had fled away,
Leaving hungry mouths and bills unpaid.
Around the town the rumors flew,
Gossipers plenty, but friends too few.

His mother stoically gave it her best,
But scarcely by herself could bear
Pressures at home, and then those stares.
And Willy’s cheerful manner now depressed,
An unseen weight hanging on his chest.

That day I could no more abide;
When school was out I called to him,
“Willy, it hurts me to see you so grim.
You know that with me you don’t have to hide,
I am someone in whom you can confide.”

Willy paused and then let out a sigh.
Still the words he could not find
To empty out his troubled mind.
Then looking down he began to cry,
A long sobbing from somewhere deep inside.

That day Willy spilled forth his heart.
While his tears soaked the wooden floor,
He spoke his mind, and then some more.
And how can I even begin to start
To convey a story best left unspoken?

Finally when there was no more to say,
Willy glanced up quickly at my face,
Searching my eyes, just in case,
Some words of wisdom on my lips lay,
Some advice, some comfort, even a token.

But hiding a shiver, my eyes still moist,
I silently could only reach out my hand
To place on the shoulder of young Willy Rand.
A gesture too meager, and yet I rejoiced
To catch a faint smile, although but a sliver.

When Willy departed he looked back at me,
His demeanor tired, yet somehow I sensed,
A glimmer of hope in his frame, now less tensed.
He gave me a nod, very nonchalantly,
Then ran down the road, as dusty as ever.

His family left town a few months later.
All their possessions piled in a small truck,
They went down to Philly to try out their luck.
Most folks said it was all for the better,
But my heart was uneasy, as if in a fetter.

These thoughts in a moment through my mind ran.
Twas late afternoon on a leaf-scattered track,
My hair once again gray, wrinkles, not a lack.
And Willy was now a fully grown man,
Holding the world in the palm of his hand.

“Ah, Willy”, I tried, “how long has it been?
After all these years it’s such a comfort to see
That all indeed appears well with thee.
And as you can see I’ve become rather thin;
My memory at times like the shifting sand."

“But you Willy, yes, I definitely remember.
Come now, do please fill me in on all
That’s passed in your life since that long ago fall.”
Smiling he exclaimed, “I start in September.
For it’s been just a week since I received the call.”

My puzzled expression must have been plain.
For Willy seemed even partially amused
That his enigmatic wording had me confused.
“Mr. Carey”, said he, “to appear less arcane,
Can you accompany me a moment before the sun wanes?”

On the path five minutes, and then a turn to the right,
A familiar view opened up before my eyes,
Newly remodeled, it stood shining high.
The old schoolhouse made a welcoming sight,
Beckoning us closer in the fast ebbing light.

“It’s beautiful”, but added a touch wistfully,
“Surely it’s locked, as by all rights it should be,
But the redone inside, that I would like to see.”
Still Willy strode ahead ever so confidently,
As if to enter that building was his God-given right.

Then with a gleam of metal and quick turn of the hand,
He made such short work of opening the door,
That as we stood silently on the fresh polished floor,
Finally it dawned on me, something quite grand,
That the new schoolteacher was Mr. William Rand.

“Congratulations Willy, with all of my heart.”
And clasping his hands enthusiastically,
Teacher and pupil no more could I see,
Rather a warm friendship making its start,
Elder and younger joined in a band.

Somehow that day something changed in me
The years, it’s true, I couldn’t erase
And Willy’s gait, I couldn’t keep the pace.
But a chain on my heart was at last set free,
For a former pupil had shown me the key.