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When I was growing up, my grandfather, Victor White, lived in the small town of Marlin, Texas, ten miles from our home in Reagan. He died from complications of a stroke when I was twelve years old. He had been partially paralyzed and walked with a cane.
About one week after his death in May 1953, I was sitting on the couch in our living room when I heard footsteps coming up the sidewalk. My grandfather had walked in a characteristic way; he would take a step and then drag the other foot.
These were the exact sounds that I heard as I sat on the couch, although I didn’t realize that I was hearing Grandfather’s footsteps. Knowing that beggars would occasionally come to the house asking for food, I thought at first it was one of them.
When I went outside to look, I saw no footprints in the dirt that covered part of the sidewalk-but leaning against the steps of the porch was my grandfather’s walking cane.
To this day no one knows how that cane made its way to our house- ten miles from Marlin to Reagan.