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Page 7 · column 4 of 7 · from the scan, no model involved
By Bkn Jones Special in the Rappahannock News
In winter light the geese flv from the frozen pond across a slate gray sky dappled with steel blue. Through the bare elms I can see tilings I didn’t know were there and as I walk the windy trails I dream of things that are no more. Things in the hollow are not the same since my friend Clarence passed away.
Clarence Grigsby was a hero of mine. I found him to be a man with absolutely no pretense, a man who was honest to the bone, and a man whose word was as solid as mountain rock. If you were looking for the living definition of “country boy", Clarence was your man.
Basically shy, he lived simply, shunning places where there were crowds. He felt most at home on a tractor, or under the hood of a truck. His social life was spent on the cracker barrel circuit, regularly making the rounds of the country stores where there was good company, the latest news, the* same old gossip, and an occasional laugh.
Although he could harbor strong opinions, he usually kept them to himself. He was a good judge of vehicles and horses, and a good predictor of weather.
Clarence lived on our little farm and took care of the place. He was as reliable as the sunrise over The Peak and he liked to do a job until it was done right. He was painstaking about the care of tools and equipment and
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