David Allen

Sep. 23, 2016

ENG 311 Sec 004

An Empty Rope Swing

I could see Grandpa Cottle was getting old. Grandma was too,
even though it didnt show as much. As said by Alan Parsons and
countless others, Time, [is] flowing like a river. Like the Nile or the
Amazon, we can only gleam advantages by maximizing its resources
at a specific point. It can never be stopped. I tried not to think about
the fact that one day they would have to sell this house and property.
6792 Ganon St SE Salem, OR 97317. Approximately 35 minutes
from our house if you take I-5. I remember my parents explaining that
the prison to the right after we got off our exit was actually a womens
correction facility for the State of Oregon. The scenic drive was iconic
and remembered best as being light on the drive there and dark when
we were coming back after Fast Sunday dinner.
4,032 sqft. Brandon and I would eat our dinner in a hurry to get
downstairs, past the fireplace, past the extraneous kitchen to the left
bedroom to the SEGA Dreamcast. NFL 2K1, Sonic the Hedgehog,
Demolition Racer, Crazy Taxi until our parents begged us to go or
threatened us with privilege losses (or both). Before we leave, I would
usually get on Grandpas back, and Brandon would get on Dads back
(or was it the other way around?). The paired piggyback players would

dance around our golden Oldsmobile van, chasing each other until one
got too tired. Being a contractor, Grandpa Dewey (Cottle) built this
spacious house over many years with some help. We would come up
every month or more and see the many stages of its development,
always in awe of the effort that Grandpa could still produce, even at his
age.
5.32 acres. Of land. Of memories. Of laughter. Of joy. The
stretching trees that hear, the gray-haired pond that silently watches,
the grass that feels and remembers the pain of the last lawn mowing
like it was yesterday. If the grass could talk, it might remind me how
many potato chips have been spilled on the grass and never picked up.
It would tell me how long it kept that chip safe until a bird or squirrel
came and snatched it up. It might tell me the most recent score of
ladder golf that was played. The serene, but dirty lake would whisper
to me how many times Frisbees, balls, Styrofoam airplanes were tossed
in the lake and remained there until the current could nudge it closer
to the shore so we could grab it. The upper lake gifted us with newts
(or salamanders) that us kids were so excited to put in buckets and
take back to the house. We did this every time; even though we would
remember that mom always makes us put them back.
Single Family. My dads parents divorced when he was still a
teenager. His mom re-married Dewey shortly after disconnecting from
Jay Allen. My dad doesnt show emotion very often and certainly

hasnt related the story to me in detail how it affected him. As a kid I

never knew what it meant nor what it didnt mean. It was strange
having discussions about Deweys family that wasnt blood-related to
me at all. A family meant strife, but family also meant traditional
board or card games after dinner. One by one, each child would reach
the invisible age at which you would be able to play games with the
adults. Being the first one to reach this status I was particular to point
out and even complain when younger siblings were allowed to play at
a younger age. Dominos were the traditional game. Then it was
Rummikub. Then it was Rook. I cant remember what it was now, I
always insisted on variety. I would side with mom and Grandma when
they tried to calm down the rhetoric when the political conversations
came out, as they always did. Grandpa thought something was right;
Dad would try to prove it factually wrong, Dewey would hold his
ground, even if solely based on his belief in Christianity and
Democracy. Someone was always wrong, someone would always be
almost right.
Parking: Garage - Attached, 2 spaces, 648 sqft garage. My dad,
not being the handy type, would often hand over his kids projects to
Grandpa Dewey. The favorite and typical one was the pinewood derby
car. Some did well, some didnt, some looked really cool, and some
were rather plain. Some were both efficient and cool, some neither.
But Grandpa took this and other projects as opportunities to teach his

adopted grandkids a little about woodworking equipment, safety

precautions, and work ethic. As we got older, he would have us drive
his tractors around the property and give us more responsibility even
when we would feel useless or make mistakes. Grandpa served as our
reminder of old-fashioned values, values that sadly watch the world
turn into disarray and confusion, losing its sense of what made it
successful and happy.
March 1, 2015: Me and my companion went to the internet caf
in Takoradi on Monday to spend a couple hours to send letters to our
mission president and e-mail friends and family. I had no significant
other to break up with me while I was gone, so I felt like I had no
strings attached. I soon realized I had some very strong strings hidden
underneath that were about to be snapped with no warning. I spent
the summer before I left on my mission helping out at the Cottles
property, doing yard work and such to get it ready for potential buyers
as it was listed for sale about a week before I left. Part of me hoped
that it wouldnt be able to sell, at least until I got back. This was the email I received from my mom that March 1st:
We went out to the Cottles for dinner today. They will sign
papers this Friday, and the house will belong to someone else.
The new owners wont be coming for at least another month, so
theyll be slowly moving everything to the new place over the
next 2-3 weeks. We drove over to see the new place today. The

other owners are still living there - so we could only see the
outside. Its nice, though nothing like what theyre leaving
behind. Its on a way smaller plot of land. Its all flat, with just
grass and trees around the perimeter on three sides (the street
side has a white rail fence with no trees.) It has a smaller house
than they wanted, but a huge garage/shop. So Dewey wont
have to part with anything from his shop - which was such a
relief to him.
In spending time there today, it was really hitting home just how
many fond memories we have tied into that property at Cottle
Acres. All the Easter Egg hunts, the Amazing Race birthday
parties, the Youth Leadership Retreats and Scout Campouts, the
time spent paddling (and falling into) the pond or feeding the
ducks, picking apples or blackberries or asian pears, sitting by
the bonfire, swinging in the huge tree, watching the goats,
catching newts.. the list just goes on and on. Sydney and
Curtis and I went for a walk around the property after dinner
today. I couldnt help shedding tears in thinking about all the
memories were leaving behind. Curtis was off by himself for
most of the time - and when he came back in, I could tell hed
been crying too. Its a pretty tough move - and we dont even
live there! Its just been such a big part of our lives - its really
hard to say goodbye :(

Attached were pictures: 1. Curtis standing by the flagpole with no flag;

2. Green grass; 3. Curtis standing in an empty yard; 4. The deck that
extends out to the pond; 5. The rope swing that we would swing on,
now empty; 6. The view of the house, spookily alight, from across the
pond; 7. Curtis swinging on the swing, still empty; 8. Curtis sitting on a
wooden bench by the firepit in a pensive position. These last two
images are forever ingrained into my eyes. That Monday, they acted
like shovels that dug up and tore up memory chains; they were torn
out without a chance to give them a proper goodbye. A simple
goodbye.

2102 78th Ave Salem OR 97317 United States. When all the kids
were home this past summer, we all went up to the Cottles new
property. It felt great to have dinner, games, even the political
opinions were comfortably familiar. Grandmas candy jar on the
counter serves as a reminder of the lifestyle before the Grandpas
surgery, before we left on our missions, before the house was sold. Just
like half of the candy is new and half is never replaced, stuck on the
bottom, I realized that part of that land will always travel with the
people who lived there.
An empty rope swing hanging on a strong tree branch,
repositioned over the years when the previous branch broke. Even the

seat was replaced. It sways lifelessly now. But before, before, there
was life.