The world is once again at war. Politicians in the major countries are scrambling for a solution to the latest threat before the worst outcome could occur.
However, that was not the case in the house on US 2.
The one thing that had assured this element of peace was the fact that the elderly man that lived there would not own a television, a radio, nor did he subscribe to a newspaper.
There was one thing that would not even be found in his pocket or either one of his hands, and that was one of them newfangled telephones.
There was something going on in the government and Harry Woodworth did not want to be even remotely connected to the deception that was being brought forth with this new technology.
He had even donated his cat, Ford, to a young couple that lived down the street because the cat was at war with an aging rodent under the front porch.
He did not have time for war of any kind. Oh, he knew that there was conflict taking place in the world, because Charlie his neighbor told him all of the gory details of it. Still, he did not want to be bothered with such things.
There had been years of fighting and insanity within these four walls that was now home to him and Rupert.
The woman, as he now referred to his once blushing bride, had driven him to the brink of insanity, and then left him for another man.
So, he now lived in this two bedroom home with Rupert his pet gold fish.
Country living suited him and he would not trade it for anything the world had to offer. His place was just off of US 2 south of the Canadian border, nestled in the Ottawa National Forest.
Charlie, his nearest neighbor, lived two miles down the road. He would often stop by to see how Harry was getting along. That was alright with him, just as long he didn't stay too long, or bring up the two forbidden subjects: politics and religion.
There had been many a day when he was enjoying the company of this young man and thinking of inviting him into the house, when Charlie would be feeling his oats and begin to talk about the government or get into a dialogue about the destiny of Harry's soul.
The first subject Harry truly despised, and the second he was not worried about because he knew what kind of man he had been in his previous life, and the one that he currently was.
"One day, Harry, everyone will face their "comeuppins," his daddy would say to him, and at the age of ninety-seven, Harry knew that time was closer than he wanted to admit.
There was one subject that Harry could not wait to talk about and he always brought that up before Charlie had a chance to say more than "hello old friend."
Harry was an avid collector of bottle caps. He had a collection that was greater than any found in Iron County. Most of them were still like new, with just a few rusted ones.
(Those would have been worth more if he had taken better care of them.)
Then there were the dozen and a half that he had attached to an old pine log when he first began collecting them as a kid. Again, they were of no value, other than sentimental.
"I understand your pain," Charlie said, as he too thought about the five gallon bucket of Hot Wheel cars in his garage, or the boxes of jumbled baseball cards stashed in the closet behind his wife's hidden jewelry.
"Why did we collect those things?" Harry said.
"I suppose we thought they were cool."
This too, brought back memories of a wooded treasure box that Harry had stashed in the woodshed; the treasure of rocks in all shapes, colors, and sizes. There was one in particular, a golden one that he had found in a stream somewhere in Wisconsin, when he was but five-years-old.
"Is there anything that you have collected that you think was a waste of time?" Charlie said.
"I don't know about being a waste of time, but there are some things that I should not have kept; those things are hurtful memories."
"I'm not going down that road..." Harry continued.
In a different part of the forest another man looked intently at his collection. On his face a smile formed which redirected the tears to a new route along his face.
