This is a story about a small boy and about a lifetime influence.  It is not a new story.  It has happened before, is happening now, will happen again in the future...often!
     He was a youngster of seven.  He saw the world through fresh eyes.  He knew how good snowflakes taste.  He had a vocabulary of words like "wow" and "neato"--words that would be expunged in adulthood; only to miraculously reappear in later life.
     "Would you like to go visit Uncle Kit?" his Father asked.
     "Yes!"
     "You know, you are very fortunate to know someone like Kit.  He is truly a remarkable human being."
     The boy merely nodded watching their car glide through a tunnel of oak trees down East Second Street.
     "Not only is he an internationally-famous Doctor, but he probably knows more about Holstein cattle and the raising of gladiolus and dahlias than anyone else in the world.  He has so many interests, it's..."
     "Oh, boy, we're here!" the boy interrupted as the car entered beautiful stone gates and proceeded around the large oval drive to the south portico of a huge antebellum mansion.
     Their host, a bespectacled, courtly gentleman with a head of hair that looked like a fresh snowdrift, greeted them cordially.  "So glad you could come, I was just planning to go out and pick some glads.  Would you like to come along?"
     The boy automatically reached to take the elderly man's hand.  "Uncle Kit," he asked somewhat self consciously.  "How old are you?"
     "Why I'm ninety five years young!"
     They proceeded down aisles of flowers that seemed miles long to the boy.  He was excited to be surrounded by so many vibrant colors.
     "Look at this yellow one, right there in the heart of the flower, why it's so beautiful it almost makes you weep!" Kit said.
     The boy would remember.  One day he would fully comprehend the overpowering need for beauty.
 
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     "Thanks a lot for letting us come over," the boy said as they were getting ready to leave.
     "Please come again soon."
     "You mean it?"
     "Of course, young man, always glad to have you."
     "Oh boy, we will!"
     " Here take this bunch of glads along home to your Mother,...together with my regards."
     "You don't have to..." the boy's Father started to protest.
     "Want to," the kindly Doctor interjected, "it makes me happy."

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     It was in the growing twilight that the boy and his great Uncle walked hand in hand to the lily pond.  They sat together in silence listening to the dying wind sighing softly through willows, and inhaled the haunting fragrance of water lilies--a scent that would linger with the boy-turned-man more than fifty years later!
     "You know, Uncle Kit," the boy said finally breaking the magic of the moment, "you should put some fish in the pond."
     "You know, I never thought of that!"

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     The phone rang early.
     "Mr. Becker?" came a robust voice through the receiver.
     "Yes, this is Stan Becker"
     "Kit Graham here."
     "Oh, yes, sir!"
     "When you come over today, would you please bring along some fish?"
     "Some f-i-s-h???  You want me to stop at the local fish market and..."
     "No, no I want you to find some live fish for the lily pond!"
     "Any special kind?" the gardener asked in a voice filled with incredulity.
     "I'll leave that to your discretion, goodbye."
     "Oh b-o-y!" Mr. Becker exhaled as he hung up the phone.

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     "Uncle Kit, Uncle Kit!" the boy was breathless from the run up the hill to the house.
     "What is it?"
     "Come quick, there are FISH in the lily pond!"
     "Well I'll be darned...so there are!", Kit winked covertly at the boy's Father.

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     As the boy and his Father were getting ready to leave that evening, the old man walked to a book shelf and took down a book entitled "Spanish for Beginners."  He smiled graciously at his guests and said without arrogance or apology: "I've always had a flair for languages, and it's never too late to learn!"
     The boy sneaked one quick look at his great Uncle as he pulled the door shut behind him: that great snow-white head, haloed in amber light, bent over, eyes peering intently through a magnifying glass, as the learned Doctor began studying Spanish at the tender age of ninety-six!"
     That was the last time the boy would ever see his great Unc le.  He did not have any idea what a Renaissance Man was back then, but he has spent an entire lifetime seeking to emulate that kind and thoughtful man in whom the fire of
learning never stopped burning with passionate intensity.