Traveling Down My Lines

My grandfather, James Hamilton Sweenie, died when I was only 5 years old and I don't remember him very much.  I do remember, however, when he and my grandmother visited us in Franklin, NH, during the summer of 1955.  My parents, my younger brother, Bruce, and I had moved into a new house on an acre of land.  The grass had not been cut for a long time and was nearly waist high.  My father's parents drove up from Maryland and my grampa helped my dad cut the grass using a sickle.  It was a several day project and when they were finished, my grandfather hung his sickle in a white lilac bush near the back door of the house.  He complained at that time that his arm was hurting.  My grandparents drove back to Maryland.  Grampa died a couple of weeks later of a massive heart attack.  The sickle remained in the lilac bush until we moved out of that house in 1961.