The branches of the maple tree behind the house reached almost to Grandpa’s big one-room shop. In the center of Grandpa’s shop was a big workbench with a large steel vise. A wooden chest on the left held Grandpa’s wood working tools. Many of the tools were made of wood and were real antiques from the nineteenth century. Tools and parts of tools hung on the walls.
Cobwebs and spider webs decorated the corners and around the windows where no one could reach, or cared to reach. There were garden tools, lawn mowers, boxes, apple crates and baskets, and chests, and machine parts and piles of miscellaneous stuff left from another generation.
A wooden ladder with one step broken led to a loft where parts from ancient farm machinery were waiting for a boy to discover them.
In a corner of Grandpa’s big shop I uncovered an old Victrola cabinet covered with dust and cobwebs. When I lifted the heavy cover and peaked inside, I saw a red vinyl record. There were more records in the bottom part, both black and red. Most of them were broken or cracked, but some…Hmmm?
I cranked the handle on the side and felt the spring tighten. A touch of the lever by the turntable set it turning. Wow! It still works! I carefully set the needle arm down on the turning record, and a rhythmic scratchy noise was soon replaced by a male voice singing:
“What does a bumblebee do do do,
What does a bumblebee do?
A bumblebee goes buzz buzz buzz,
But that ain’t all he does does does,
So, let the bumblebee be ee ee,
I’m gonna let the bumblebee be.”