For Thursday, October 30, 1997 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 713 words

See Saw

Once upon a time, in late October, there lived an old man named Saw Toliver. He lived in a small house at the edge of town at the end of Evergreen Street. His house was surrounded by a ring of old poplars. Inside the tree line grew a thicket of hedges that surrounded the house. Creeping vines climbed the walls of Saw Toliver's home, and wrapped themselves around his chimney.

Saw didn't come out much, but he could be seen clearly through his living-room window every evening by passers-by. He was forever sitting under a lamplight, his glasses down his nose, leaning over a desk, working on something. However, no one could ever see what Saw Toliver was doing. The view cut him off just below the shoulders.

People in the neighborhood used to guess about what Saw did and trade opinions, but no one ever asked him. Saw was hard pressed to open the door to knocking neighbors. If someone knocked in the evening, Saw would turn off his lamp and go to bed. The visitor could knock for an hour. It would do no good.

The vines and hedges kept anyone from climbing a tree to sneak a better look through Saw's window.

In the daylight Saw was seldom seen. When he shopped he kept to himself.

In the evening, however, for several hours, Saw hunched over his desk. The lamplight glowed through the thicket out to the sidewalk.

"Was he reading?" asked Mr. Pilltown, the oldest man in the neighborhood.

"Perhaps," said Mrs. Pilltown, the longest wife in the neighborhood. "But he moves his arms strangely."

"I think he's building something" said Terry Curiosi, a barber who walked by each evening on his way home. Terry's shop was a great gossip center.

"Hmm. Could be," said Earl, a closely cropped customer. "He seems to be reaching sometimes, or opening drawers."

"Well, what's he building?" asked Yim, who stopped by more to read the magazines that to get his hair cut. "Is it art or a science project?"

"And what was taking him so long?" said Earl. "He has been working at that desk for years."

"I don't think he's building anything," said Little Smitty, Terry's sweeper, as he munched a Zagnut Bar. "If he's building something, how come it's never finished? I see him bringing things to his desk at night. Sometimes he gets up and gets things, but every night, when he's done, he stands up empty handed, and turns out the light. Whatever he's working on, it must be sitting on his desk."

Saw's sidewalk gate opened to a walkway through his front lawn up to his porch. The gate was always closed. It was never locked, but it was difficult to open. It could only be opened from the inside. Someone on the outside would need tremendous reach to find the latch.

One Halloween night, as the sun set, and the little ghosts and goblins came out with their empty candy bags looking for treats, neighbors found old Saw's gate standing wide open. Imagine that. Saw Toliver's gate standing open on Halloween night.

Folks who saw the open gate hurried past it. Then along came Little Smitty with his six-year-old, Little Smitty Junior. When Little Smitty saw the open gate, he grabbed his son by his pirate's kerchief and they cut in. "Listen, boy," he said. "If the old man comes to the door, ask for a glass of water. When he goes into the kitchen, I'm going to sneak into his den for a quick peek."

Junior didn't care, as long as he got candy.

They rang. Saw Toliver opened the door with a grin and a bowl of Zagnut Bars. "Trick or treat," said Junior.

"Well, well," said Saw. "You must be the Smittys. Any you, young man, look mighty thirsty. Would you like a glass of water?" Junior nodded. Saw took his hand and they disappeared into the kitchen. Big Little Smitty found his chance. He tiptoed quickly into Saw's den. On the desk was a tall stack of papers, several quill pens, and some ink bottles. The papers had a cover page, as if Saw had just finished a manuscript. Big Little Smitty looked at the title. It read, "Watching the Neighbors."