Summer, 1944. My dad, Ron, was 9 years old. Jack Howe, the neighbor boy who was fifteen and best friends with Ronnie’s big brother, was moving away with his family across the state to Hannibal, Missouri. The truck was packed and there was no room for the big toboggan, and so he made a gift of it to his buddy’s little brother.
I’m sure he never guessed how many years of fun our family would have with that sled. My dad kept it through his teen years, and we rode it countless winters through my childhood, and my children’s. There was room for four or five people, and the more you put on, the faster it flew.
About six years ago, my son Aaron and his grandpa completely rebuilt the sled in oak, and it is beautiful. You would never guess that the sled has been around for seventy years. Today our family went sledding on the big hill at Grandpa’s house, and I heard the story for the first time about how he first got the sled. I always knew the letters H O W E were painted in red on the bottom side of the sled, one letter on each slat. But until today, I never knew why.
I hope that sled is still in our family seventy years from now!
Aaron and Grandpa
Aaron, Grandpa, and Philip flying down the hill today!