Molten Solder And Pleasant Memories

As a boy in the early 1950s, I spent some summer weeks with James Elvin and Mabel Rose Tyson of North Little Rock. They were my Uncle J.E. and Aunt Rabbit.

Uncle J.E. was the proprietor of Tyson's Radio & Television at 2410 Pike Avenue. Television was still in its infancy, and he received many calls to install rooftop antennas. I often scaled roofs with him, but hot shingles and bare feet didn't mix well.

Back in the shop "we" repaired broken sets, and it was always a treat to hold his big soldering gun and melt lengths of solder into globs on the workbench. I'll never forget the pungent but pleasant smell of the molten solder.

But tucked away in the back of the shop was the most delicious treat of all: a little cooler that Aunt Rabbit kept fully stocked with colas. They came in those long-since-vanished little six-ounce glass bottles with metal caps. Popping those caps off was an art unto itself.

The bottles near the cooler's air inlet were a bit colder than the rest--and always the first ones plucked out for our breaks. Uncle J.E. taught me how to hold the bottles and flick the caps off quickly. If flicked properly, the fluid at the top of the bottle would instantly turn to slush. He liked them slushy... and so did I.

Not many years passed before a back injury received in the military compelled Uncle J.E. to sell the shop, and he and Aunt Rabbit moved to undeveloped property near Greers Ferry Lake. There they slowly cleared the land and built the home they would share for the next 30-plus years. They invested themselves into First Baptist Church in Clinton and became assets to their new community.

Uncle J.E. died in 1996 at age 84. Aunt Rabbit had nursed him at home through his final years of debilitating misery. Her own health problems eventually encouraged her to tackle the painful duty of closing a lengthy chapter of their marriage. Both possessions and property were sold, and she relocated to a more convenient and maintainable home in Harrison.

We recently visited her on the day after what would have been their 63rd anniversary. She enlightened us with a thought I hope never to forget.

In commenting on her move, a friend remarked how difficult it must have been to leave all her memories behind. With no hint of regret, Aunt Rabbit answered, "Oh, no. I didn't leave them. I brought them with me."

I smell molten solder infrequently these days. But whenever I do, I'm once again a six-year-old boy with a man-size soldering gun sitting at Uncle J.E.'s workbench. The little shop is no more, but its memories linger.

Aunt Rabbit was right. What we leave behind is not as important as what we take with us. For what we take with us colors our outlook either sunny or gray.

Thank you, Aunt Rabbit, for such a meaningful lesson! I need it today.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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