A Tuesday Love Story

And we all need more weekday love, so here’s another story about Ann and Irvin.

When they were both in elementary school Ann lived on Prospect Avenue. It was an elegant colonial home, white, with a big back yard that ran into West Mountain.

Irvin’s large and loud family struggled during the depression, when they were kids. He lived on Whittington Avenue, which was on the opposite side of West Mountain.

Two or three afternoons a week Irvin would use the deer trails and run up and over West Mountain because he wanted to see and play with Ann. Now, West Mountain isn’t a terribly large mountain but it is very steep and rugged. He was only eight or nine years old so the trip took him almost an hour. In the winter, he had to run home, in the dark and cold but he didn’t mind. He always said the scary run was worth it if he got to see Ann.

He knew the trails perfectly and every time landed exactly in Ann’s manicured backyard.

Well, Daddy Jack, Ann’s father wasn’t thrilled about this scruffy little boy showing up in his back yard. Ann was an only child, protected and adored. So, he told the maids the children could only see each other and play once a week.

Still Irvin ran over the mountain three times a week, hoping Daddy Jack would change his mind. The maids felt sorry for Irvin so, on the days he wasn’t allowed to see Ann they left a plate of cookies or sandwich and glass of milk so he’d have the strength to make the trip home.

When Irvin died in the 1970s he was only 51 or 52. But he left a note for the family that read, “make sure you leave my ashes on West Mountain I’ll always be running over that hill, trying to reach my girl”.

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