Leonard F. "Tiny" Treat Sr., 79, of 48 Conable Ave., Roulette, died Saturday (Aug. 12, 2006) in Charles Cole Memorial Hospital, Coudersport. Funeral arrangements are under the direction of the Switzer Funeral Home.

Ouch. This hit me like a ton of bricks. "Tiny" Treat was of no blood relation. But I had no grandfather nearby. My mom's dad died when I was a kid after years of alcoholism, half way across the country. My dad's dad lives near St. Louis.

I think it was the summer after eight grade. I was not a popular kid. In fact, my best and only friend was my little brother Jake. We spent a lot of time together, but Summer is baseball season, and Jake was busy getting beaned by Little Leaguers.

So while looking for something to do, I met up with Shaun Chilson. He lived over on Railroad Avenue, and he spent a lot of time with his grandparents on Ought Street. So when we were plotting our summer mischeif of campfires, mountain biking, rafting the Allegheny, and other Potter County fun, we needed a headquarters.

His "GeePa" was glad to supply us with a place to put our adventures together, and supplies for the journey. We would stop by Tiny's house, and load up our backpacks with soda, hot dogs, chips, and a miscellany of junk food items, but only after Tiny and his wife made sure we had a proper supper.

We'd use his hose to wash the mud off of our bikes, we'd use his air compressor to blow up our raft, we'd borrow his hammer to drive the tent stakes in the ground.

I hate to say that we "used" him so much... the truth is, Tiny was a generous man who gave us everything we needed. I remember crashing in his garage when our tent got rained out. I remember when he remodeled the loft, and he would let us play pool.

I was a bonehead.. and popped a ball off of the table, and it smashed into the glass cabinet that housed his wonderful wood carvings. Tiny's daughter Rhoda was going to help us sneak some glass in to fix it, so we wouldn't get caught, but Tiny found out. He rolled it off like it was not a big deal. His eyes were laughing. "Ha. I remember being a kid," flashed unsaid in his brow.

Luckily those wood carvings weren't damaged. He had hundreds of whimsical and beautiful figuires. He was a master whittler.

He was a good man. A generous man. A loving man. I know that his family will miss him the most. So to the Treats, and Weimers, and Chilsons, and every other offshoot, I'm sorry for your loss. We all feel echoes of your pain.