The old man was wearing a worn jacket, cotton shirt and slacks that were unraveling at the cuffs. He had on a wide-brimmed straw hat that was stained with sweat around the brim. As he drew closer, Jonathan could see his unshaven face was well-grooved with wrinkles earned from a long, hard life. He looked to be about eighty years old but his pace was steady and sure. His shoulders were broad but bent from age. His frame showed that, at one time, this had been a fairly good sized man; but life and time had worn him down just as it had his clothes. Over his left shoulder, he carried a pack and, in his right hand, he used a weathered staff to maintain his pace.

Jonathan wiped the grease from his hands and then the sweat from his brow with the same rag which left a greasy mark across his forehead.

“Afternoon,” Jonathan said to he man as he walked out to greet him.

“Hello,” the old man said smiling. His smile seemed to make his entire face come to life. From under the shadow cast by his wide-brimmed hat, bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle with a light all their own.

“Awfully hot to be out walking on a day like today,” Jonathan said indicating the mid-afternoon sun as it glared down on the Indian summer day.

“Yes, it is,” the old man said. “I don’t suppose I could bother you for a cool drink, could I?”

“Not a problem. Why don’t you come up on the porch and get out of this sun? I’ll see if my wife has any lemonade in the fridge.”

“That would be wonderful,” the man said joining Jonathan as they walked toward the house.

“Did you car break down?” Jonathan asked as he climbed the front steps.

“Nope,” the old man said, following Jonathan.

”Well, it’s pretty far from the main highway. What brings you so far out our way?”

The old man walked over to the porch swing and slowly sat down. “I’m out this way looking to visit some old friends.”

“I see,” Jonathan said.

“Jonathan, who are you talking to?” Martha said, coming out of the door. “Oh, I didn’t know we had company.”

The old man stood when Martha came out. “Ma’am,” he said as he tugged on the brim of his hat.

“Martha, do you have any lemonade made?” Jonathan asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking at the old man. “I’ll be right back.”

Jonathan sat down in the chair that he and Martha usually sat in on summer evenings to watch the sunset as the old man returned to his seat on the porch swing. In no time, Martha returned, carrying a tray with three glasses of ice and a pitcher of her award-winning lemonade.

“I’m sorry, my husband didn’t say what your name was,” she said, pouring the lemonade and handing the old man a glass.

“Well, ma’am, I didn’t get a chance to give it,” the old man said before taking a long drink from the glass.

“I’m Martha Kent and this is my husband Jonathan,” Martha said as the old man finished his drink, nearly draining the glass in one gulp.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “My name is Jerry.”

Jonathan looked at Jerry for a second, holding his glass absently as Martha joined Jonathan in the chair next to him and sipped from her own glass. Krypto came up and started sniffing the old man’s hand and nudging it. The old man patted the dog’s head and smiled.

“Well, Jerry, who are you visiting?” Jonathan finally asked after a long silence.

The old man looked up at them for a second and then returned his gaze to the dog. “To tell the truth, Mr. Kent, I’m just passing through. I used to live in Smallville a long time ago and thought I’d come out this way to see if things had changed much in all the time I’ve been gone.”

“I see,” Jonathan said, sitting forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Forgive me for telling you that little white lie, sir,” the old man said. “I figured you’d be a lot more receptive to me if you thought I had business out this way instead of just being some…some kind of drifter.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Martha said. “We wouldn’t think that way. In fact, I’ve got supper started on the stove and…” she looked at Jonathan and then threw an arm around his shoulders, “we’d be honored to have you stay.”

“Ma’am, that’s very kind of you, but I’ve probably already overstayed my welcome,” the old man said, reaching for this staff and attempting to stand.

“I won’t hear it, Jerry. It won’t be any trouble at all to set another plate,” Martha said as she got up and went inside, letting the screen door slamming to make her point.

The old man watched her leave and then looked at Jonathan.

“You may as well stay, Jerry,” Jonathan said, sitting back in his chair and grinned. “I’ve lived with her long enough to know that when she’s made up her mind, there’s no changing it.”

The old man shook his head for a second and then offered, “I could just leave now.”

“Don’t you dare!” Martha yelled from the kitchen.

Jonathan chuckled and then said, “See what I mean?”

“She’s pretty head-strong, isn’t she?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jonathan said, standing up.

“I heard that Jonathan Kent!” Martha yelled out.

Both men laughed as Jerry followed Jonathan back out to the tractor.

“So what seems to be the problem?” Jerry asked as Jonathan grabbed up a wrench and looked at the aging motor.

“Nothing serious. I’m just getting her ready for the harvest.”

Jerry looked out at the acres of cornfields. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good crop this year.”

“Have you done some farming in your time, Jerry?” Jonathan said as he strained to loosen a rusted bolt.

“A long time ago. I grew up on a farm a lot like this one. My father was the farmer.”

“Well, I can tell you it hasn’t gotten much – ugh! – easier,” Jonathan said as the bolt finally gave.

“It was never easy,” Jerry said.

“Nope, it isn’t,” Jonathan said as he went about his work. “You have any family? Wife? Kids?”

“Not anymore. I’m pretty much on my own now.”

“So where’s home?” Jonathan said, standing up and examining the engine part he’d extracted from the tractor.

“I used to live in Metropolis, but that seems like a lifetime ago.”

“So you’ve been on the road for a while?”

“You could say that. After my wife passed, I spent the last few years just moving from place to place.”

Just then a gleaming convertible sped up the driveway and stopped in front of the house. The electric beat of music played too loud reverberated against the house and barn creating a strange echoing double beat. Clark Kent opened the passenger door and jumped out.

“Thanks for the ride, Chloe!” he yelled as the pretty blond smiled after him and sped out the driveway. The old man looked at the exchange and then followed Chloe with his eyes as she drove out the driveway and onto the paved road toward Smallville. Jonathan looked up as well and then looked at his son.

“Clark!” he yelled. “You’ve got chores to do.”

Clark stopped as he bounded up the front steps and turned around. He looked at his father and the stranger with him and then slowly made his way over to them.

“I know, Dad,” Clark said, “I’ve got some homework to do, though.”

“You can do your homework when it’s dark; the chores need to be done now.” His father said sternly.

“Okay, Dad,” Clark said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He then looked at Jerry and tilted his head.

”Clark, this is Jerry. He’s going to be joining us for dinner tonight.” That was all Jonathan said as he turned back to the tractor.

Jerry smiled as he extended an old hand and shook Clark’s hand. Clark returned the smile and took the man’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Clark said.

“Nice to meet you son,” Jerry said. “Say, how about if I help you out with those chores? It’ll go a lot faster with two of us. That is, if it’s alright with your father.” Jerry looked back at Jonathan.

Jonathan looked up at them. The old man seemed harmless enough and, if he wasn’t, there wasn’t much his son couldn’t handle. Jonathan smiled and nodded his head.

Jerry and Clark made their way back to the feed lot that encircled the barn. As Jerry removed his jacket and draped it over a fence post, Clark opened the storage shed and pulled out a large bag of feed.

“Your old man can be pretty rough some times, can’t he?” Jerry said, breaking the silence between them.

“Not really. He always gets this way right before the harvest. Once everything’s been harvested and sent to the market he eases up.” Clark said as he poured the feed into a feeding trough.

“Yeah, I remember what that was like,” Jerry said as he spread the feed evenly in the trough. “My dad was a farmer, too. He always got that way just before the harvest. He worried the price would go down before he could get it all in.”

“I bet back in those days harvesting was awfully tough.”

“In those days…,” Jerry began, then said, “In those days, old men weren’t allowed to rattle on about the old days. Not like today, that’s for certain.”

Jerry watched as Clark returned one feed bag and came back out with another. Clark lifted it up on his shoulder and carried it out to the chicken coup. He sat the bag down and reached in pulling out a handful. Clark gingerly spread it on the ground around the clucking chickens and Jerry joined him and did the same.

The old man and his co-worker spent the rest of the daylight like this. Feeding the livestock and engaging in conversation. Jerry told him about his late wife and how he’d spent the last few years traveling the country. Clark would ask a simple question and the old man would spend the next fifteen minutes telling a story from his past to answer him. Jonathan finished with his repairs to the old tractor and found his way back to the porch and his chair where he watched as the old man and Clark worked and talked.

Martha came out on the porch and joined him as they both watched Clark enjoy Jerry’s company.

“I wonder if it would have been like this if my father hadn’t died when he did,” Jonathan said to her as he slipped his arm around her.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at Clark,” Jonathan said. “That old man is probably the closest thing to a grandfather he’s ever seen.”

“He’s got my father,” Martha said.

“When was the last time your father fed chickens?” Jonathan laughed.

“Okay, that’s a good point; but I still don’t think it’s the same.”

“I just remember what it was like for me when my grandfather still on this farm. He had a whole different outlook on things that my father didn’t seem to have.”

“The relationship between grandparents and grandchildren is considerably different from the one parents have with their children. My grandparents used to think the only way to my heart was to buy their way in. Every time they flew in from Vail or West Palm Beach, they brought me something. And as I got older, the gifts got more elaborate and more expensive.” Martha said, and then she turned and faced Jonathan, “Did I ever tell you they bought my first car?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“They had flown in from Europe and I had come home that weekend from boarding school. When I got home, they ushered me out to the garage. Now this really confused me, because the garage was someplace a member of the Clark family just did NOT go. Anyway, we made our way down the rock path to the garage and Father walked me over to stand in from of the doors. My grandmother yelled out “Surprise!” as my grandfather threw open the garage door. And there sat the most beautiful Jaguar you’ve ever seen. It was a dark blue with a leather interior. I immediately burst into tears.”

“Because you were happy?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” Martha said, slapping his thigh, “I was crying because I knew why they had bought it. After sixteen years I finally realized why they kept buying me all these things. They thought it was the only way to get me to love them. And you know what the ironic thing was? I loved them already; they didn’t need to buy me any of that stuff. Well, Father was furious, my grandparents moped around the rest of the weekend and I left for school before I could really tell them why I had cried. Within two years after that, they were both dead and I never told them why.”

Jerry and Clark came up the porch steps as the Kansas sky behind them was finally giving way to night. “All done, Dad,” Clark said, kneeling to pet Krypto.

“Then it’s time to serve up supper,” Martha said, standing and wiping a tear from her cheek; but before anyone could ask her why she’d been crying, she was gone into the house.

“Jerry,” Jonathan said, “C’mon, I’ll show you where you can wash up and get ready for dinner.”

“This is all very kind of you folks,” Jerry said as he followed Clark into the house.

When everyone was seated, Martha said, “Jonathan, will you say the blessing?”

Jonathan nodded and reached his hands out to Martha and Clark who took them and then reached their hands out to Jerry. Jerry took them as they all joined hands around the table and bowed their heads.

“Most gracious and Heavenly Father, we thank you for this day you’ve provided us and the many blessing you’ve given us. We ask that you bless this meal to give us strength and nourishment as we continue to honor you. We also ask that you bless our country’s leaders and those brave soldiers that may be in harm’s way this night. We thank you for the fellowship you’ve given us by allow Jerry to come into our lives on this day. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen.” Martha and Clark repeated as they looked up. Jerry kept his head bowed for a moment longer, saying something under his breath and then looked up to see everyone looking at him. He sheepishly grinned and reached out for the dish of mashed potatoes.

When dinner was over, Jonathan and Jerry made their way out to the front porch again where Jerry took his seat on the porch swing and Jonathan in his chair. The cool of the evening was beginning to settle in as fireflies began flittering across the lawn. Martha was busy in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes as Clark sat at the table doing his homework.

“Jerry, Martha’s asked me to set you up out in the barn to sleep for the night.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jerry said.

“I didn’t think so,” Jonathan said. “I figured you’d be moving on.”

“I need to get going but I want to wait until after everyone’s gone to bed.”

“Why not stay the night and then take off on the morning?”

“No, I can’t.”

“Alright, Jerry. I understand, even though I don’t think Martha will.”

“You won’t tell them I’m leaving, will you?”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

They sat in silence rest of the evening. Martha came out later and said she was going on to bed and thanking Jerry for helping Clark with his chores. Jerry looked in the front window and saw Clark working away.

“He’s a good boy. You should be very proud,” he said.

“We are. I’m hard on him because he needs to understand his responsibilities. He’s becoming man much faster than I’d ever thought possible. Next year, he’s starting college and he’s not going to be around much longer.”

“Leaving the nest is just as hard on the parents as it is on the child,” Jerry remarked.

“Yes it is.”

“But you shouldn’t worry. I can tell he’s special. He’s going to be alright.”

Jonathan considered Jerry’s words for a moment. “His mother and I have done our best.”

“You really have. He will never forget what you’ve taught him.”

Jonathan stretched his long arms out over his head and suppressed a yawn. “Well, Jerry, a farmer’s work is never done and it’s going to be an early morning for me…”

“I understand, sir,” Jerry said, standing up. Jonathan stood as well.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Jonathan said, extending his hand.

Jerry took it and shook it. Then Jonathan said goodnight and went inside. Jerry watched as Jonathan walked over to Clark and placed his hand on Clark’s shoulder. Clark looked up at him and said something. Jonathan responded and the two of them stood and went up the stairs.

Jerry watched for a while longer and then, picked up his hat and placed it back on his head. He slung his pack over his shoulder and, grabbing his staff, stepped down the porch steps. Halfway across the front yard, he turned and looked back at the house. He studied it as the lights in the upstairs went out. He then turned and made his way down the driveway and back out to the paved road.

---Epilogue---

The sun bore down on the mountainside as the old man picked his way along a long-forgotten path. As he crested the mountain-top, a sleek hovercraft passed overhead, momentarily casting a shadow on the man. He looked up for a moment and the hovercraft zoomed away. He looked out at the horizon and could see the gleaming dome that covered the city in the distance. Around the city, was desolation. Harsh, jagged rocks jutted up from the dust covered ground. A huge crater near the city was in the process of being converted to a natural amphitheater. Workers in environmental suits worked with high-powered lasers, cutting the crater’s rock walls stair step fashion to make way for seating. High above, the metal skeleton of a structure rose to support the new dome which would completely encase the crater. The sun’s rays danced off of metal air craft as the flew around the city inside and outside the dome.

The old man turned and looked down at a small stone monument that he’d placed there almost two centuries ago. The inscription on the monument simply said:

Lois Lane Kent
1986 – 2109

“Well, Lois,” the old man said, “Thomas Wolfe was wrong. You CAN go home again.”

The old man removed his clothing to reveal a bright colored blue and red costume. He carefully folded his clothes and laid them at the foot of the monument.

“At least, you can if you’re Superman,” he smiled. “I’ll be seeing you soon, darling.”

And with that, the old man slightly bent his knees and took off from the mountainous face of the moon and turned toward the stars.