Monthly Archives: November 2021

THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE

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FIRST APARTMENT

First Apartment

I quietly rolled the car down the driveway and into the street before pausing for one last look at my old bedroom window. It was a difficult decision to make. I lived here my entire life. But it’s time. Time for me to finally become independent. But still, it was hard. I love my parents. And I know they love me, but they are so overprotective. They make me feel like I’m incapable of making the smallest of decisions on my own.

They don’t feel like I’m ready to live in the big, bad city. They’re afraid I might get raped, robbed, or murdered. They kept reading me articles from the newspaper reporting the high incidents of drug addicts waiting on every corner of downtown Philadelphia who will rob you.

I assured them that I had been going to Tyler School of Art every day for the past two years and somehow survived without a bodyguard. I’ll be fine. My apartment is only a block away from school, and I can take the bus or the subway all around the city. And all my friends live a bus stop away.

I remind them that I will see them when they come by my apartment in a couple of days because they are coming to Philly to pick up my car and take it back home since it is too expensive to keep a car in the city.

As I pull out into the street, I see my parent’s faces pressed up against the kitchen window and waving frantically at me. I wave back with a big smile on my face. I see my mother wipe a tear from her cheek. That tearing rolling down her face almost makes me change my mind. I’ve never been able to bear seeing my mother cry. But this time, this time is different. I grit my teeth and wave again. And I don’t look back. I head towards the Ben Franklin Bridge and my future as a newly semi-independent adult.

After being stuck in the morning traffic jam for a good half hour, I cross the bridge and head towards my apartment, which is within walking distance of Tyler. It’s an old building, everything around it looks old. There are beautiful sections of Philadelphia, but this isn’t one of them. I manage to get a parking spot across the street from my new apartment, which is a miracle. Apparently, one of the overnight parkers just left as I drove into the lot. I see this as a good sign. Owning a car in the city is expensive. It makes more sense to take public transportation than pay through the nose to park your vehicle overnight. That’s why my car is going to be living at my parent’s house.

I will have to make several trips from my car to my apartment. I have all my clothes, and books, and art materials to bring inside. My parents helped furnish the place with stuff that they bought at yard sales and estate sales. They are good at finding bargains. They even got me dishes and silverware and kitchen stuff. When I arrive at the steps to my apartment, I see what appears to be a homeless guy sitting on the stoop. He moves to one side when he realizes I am going up the steps. I say,” hello. He asks do you have any spare money?” And I say, “Sorry, I’m a student and don’t have any extra money.” I unlock the door and head up the steps. I see a discarded needle on the top step. I’m so glad my parents didn’t come with me today, or they would have dragged me home.

By the time I arrive on the third floor, I’m out of breath. I promise to start exercising as soon as I get settled. I know at twenty years old, I shouldn’t be getting out of breath after only going up two flights of steps.

I have a little trouble unlocking the door as it’s an old building. And probably built at the turn of the century, and the door looks it. I finally jam the key in and manage to turn it. I have to pull the door closed with both hands. I shove all my stuff in with my foot since I had to put it down to unlock the door. The guy in the apartment next to me sticks his head out. His hair hangs down to his waist, and he has a beard almost as long. Oh, my mother is just going to go nuts when she sees him. The whites of his eyes are blood red. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years.

“Hey, welcome. My name’s Steven Corson. I work at night and sleep during the day, so I would appreciate it if you kept the noise down.

“Well, I’ll be at school during the day, but I can’t promise there won’t be any noise since my friends from Tyler School of Art will be visiting me because Tyler is right around the corner.”

He nods at me and says, “good luck. I hope you’ll like it here.” And he pulls his head back into his apartment and closes the door, and I hear him slide the deadlock in place. That reminds me that I need to do the same once I get all my stuff up here this morning. I think I’ll get an extra key made so one of my friends can hold it just in case I lock myself out or lose my key. I would get one made for my parents, but I don’t want to come home to find them sitting in my living room.

I made several trips from my car to the apartment, and when I made the final trip, I sat down on my new, old couch and took a deep breath. I say out loud, “this is the first day of the rest of my life.” And I smile. I look around my apartment. My parents came over one day and cleaned it from top to bottom. It will probably be a good month or two before I clean it again. And that’s me being optimistic.

I walk over to the kitchen if you can call it a kitchen. It has one counter with a refrigerator on one side, a hot plate and a toaster oven and a sink, no dishwasher. Oh, and a small cabinet under the counter for cleaning stuff. I look in the cupboards, and I see I have an old set of dishes, six glasses, and five used coffee cups. In the overhead, there’s cereal, dry potatoes, and some canned food. The fridge has milk, juice, butter, bread, cheese, and lunch meat, hot dogs and frozen hamburgers, and fudge bars in the freezer, which is my favorite dessert. I will have to thank my mom. As much as she gets on my nerves, she does more for me than anyone ever has.

I head toward the bathroom. It’s tiny, a standing shower, towel rack, sink, toilet, and a small cabinet under the sink with some cleaning products and paper towels. My mom left two sets of towels and washcloths. I go into the bedroom, and it looks even smaller than when I checked it out the first time because my parents brought my bedroom furniture over. Which include my single bed, dresser and side table, and a lamp. The living room has an old couch and my beanbag from my bedroom and my tv and computer. The closet is the biggest thing in the apartment, and hopefully, I will be able to fit all my art stuff and all my other junk. I will have to start looking for a chair for my bedroom on the street nearby. People in this area move in and out a lot. And often, they leave some of their furniture on the curb. I will have to keep my eyes open on my way to and from Tyler.

I spent the next few hours arranging things to my liking when I noticed that my stomach was growling. I stand next to the open door of the refrigerator to see if there is anything I want to eat. I was about to settle on a hamburger when I heard someone banging on the door, and then the banging got louder. I hear laughing. I two-time it to the door. Because the next thing I know, my neighbor will be complaining about the noise waking him up.

“OK, OK, I’m coming.” I unlock the door and pull it open, and what do you know? It’s three of my friends from Tyler holding a pizza box and a six-pack. “Come on in, but you have to keep it down cause the guy next door works at night, and he’s sleeping.”

They are laughing their heads off. They must have had some beer on the way over. I laugh at them. Then we are all laughing, and then I hear a banging on the wall from my neighbor, who doesn’t appreciate all the hilarity. I put my finger up to my lips. And then they start laughing again. “Come in, come in. Thanks for bringing the pizza. My stomach was growling, and I didn’t feel like eating a hamburger.”

They all start milling around the apartment. “Hey, this is great. We can crash here sometimes when we have a big project to do, and we have to stay up all night and work on it. And then we have to walk around the corner to school.” They all start clapping. The guy next door bangs on the wall again. They laugh. I laugh. The guy next door isn’t going to get any sleep today. Well, he must have been young once.

We decide to watch a movie on my computer. We settle on The Vast Of The Night, which is a scary- sci-fi movie. We start watching the movie and scarfing down the pizza, and guzzling the beer. We scream at all the scary parts and sometimes laugh hysterically. I’m laughing so hard that a piece of pizza shoots out of my mouth all the way across the room. And this brings on another round of hysterical laughter and banging on the wall.

After the movie, we decide to play Fortnite, and this is a game of elimination. The ideal ending is one character is left alive, and everyone else is murdered. We love this game and would play it all night if possible. In the middle of the game, my friend Jamie decides to get some more beer and snack food. When he returns, we start a new round of eating and drinking and laughing our heads off. My neighbor has given up on banging on the wall and has come to the door to complain in person.

He says, “Hey, I can’t get any sleep with all this racket. He looks furious, but when he sees that we are playing Fortnite, he says,’ excellent, can I join in? This is my favorite game.”

“Yeah, sure, and we just got more beer and snacks. Have a seat. “

And that, my friends, was the first night of the best three years of my life. And you only have one life. You should live it to the fullest. Whatever that means to you.”

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THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE

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FIRST APARTMENT

I quietly rolled the car down the driveway and into the street before pausing for one last look at my old bedroom window. It was a difficult decision to make. I lived here my entire life. But it’s time. Time for me to finally become independent. But still, it was hard. I love my parents. And I know they love me, but they are so overprotective. They make me feel like I’m incapable of making the smallest of decisions on my own.

They don’t feel like I’m ready to live in the big, bad city. They’re afraid I might get raped, robbed, or murdered. They kept reading me articles from the newspaper reporting the high incidents of drug addicts waiting on every corner of downtown Philadelphia who will rob you.

I assured them that I had been going to Tyler School of Art every day for the past two years and somehow survived without a bodyguard. I’ll be fine. My apartment is only a block away from school, and I can take the bus or the subway all around the city. And all my friends live a bus stop away.

I remind them that I will see them when they come by my apartment in a couple of days because they are coming to Philly to pick up my car and take it back home since it is too expensive to keep a car in the city.

As I pull out into the street, I see my parent’s faces pressed up against the kitchen window and waving frantically at me. I wave back with a big smile on my face. I see my mother wipe a tear from her cheek. That tearing rolling down her face almost makes me change my mind. I’ve never been able to bear seeing my mother cry. But this time, this time is different. I grit my teeth and wave again. And I don’t look back. I head towards the Ben Franklin Bridge and my future as a newly semi-independent adult.

After being stuck in the morning traffic jam for a good half hour, I cross the bridge and head towards my apartment, which is within walking distance of Tyler. It’s an old building, everything around it looks old. There are beautiful sections of Philadelphia, but this isn’t one of them. I manage to get a parking spot across the street from my new apartment, which is a miracle. Apparently, one of the overnight parkers just left as I drove into the lot. I see this as a good sign. Owning a car in the city is expensive. It makes more sense to take public transportation than pay through the nose to park your vehicle overnight. That’s why my car is going to be living at my parent’s house.

I will have to make several trips from my car to my apartment. I have all my clothes, and books, and art materials to bring inside. My parents helped furnish the place with stuff that they bought at yard sales and estate sales. They are good at finding bargains. They even got me dishes and silverware and kitchen stuff. When I arrive at the steps to my apartment, I see what appears to be a homeless guy sitting on the stoop. He moves to one side when he realizes I am going up the steps. I say,” hello. He asks do you have any spare money?” And I say, “Sorry, I’m a student and don’t have any extra money.” I unlock the door and head up the steps. I see a discarded needle on the top step. I’m so glad my parents didn’t come with me today, or they would have dragged me home.

By the time I arrive on the third floor, I’m out of breath. I promise to start exercising as soon as I get settled. I know at twenty years old, I shouldn’t be getting out of breath after only going up two flights of steps.

I have a little trouble unlocking the door as it’s an old building. And probably built at the turn of the century, and the door looks it. I finally jam the key in and manage to turn it. I have to pull the door closed with both hands. I shove all my stuff in with my foot since I had to put it down to unlock the door. The guy in the apartment next to me sticks his head out. His hair hangs down to his waist, and he has a beard almost as long. Oh, my mother is just going to go nuts when she sees him. The whites of his eyes are blood red. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ten years.

“Hey, welcome. My name’s Steven Corson. I work at night and sleep during the day, so I would appreciate it if you kept the noise down.

“Well, I’ll be at school during the day, but I can’t promise there won’t be any noise since my friends from Tyler School of Art will be visiting me because Tyler is right around the corner.”

He nods at me and says, “good luck. I hope you’ll like it here.” And he pulls his head back into his apartment and closes the door, and I hear him slide the deadlock in place. That reminds me that I need to do the same once I get all my stuff up here this morning. I think I’ll get an extra key made so one of my friends can hold it just in case I lock myself out or lose my key. I would get one made for my parents, but I don’t want to come home to find them sitting in my living room.

I made several trips from my car to the apartment, and when I made the final trip, I sat down on my new, old couch and took a deep breath. I say out loud, “this is the first day of the rest of my life.” And I smile. I look around my apartment. My parents came over one day and cleaned it from top to bottom. It will probably be a good month or two before I clean it again. And that’s me being optimistic.

I walk over to the kitchen if you can call it a kitchen. It has one counter with a refrigerator on one side, a hot plate and a toaster oven and a sink, no dishwasher. Oh, and a small cabinet under the counter for cleaning stuff. I look in the cupboards, and I see I have an old set of dishes, six glasses, and five used coffee cups. In the overhead, there’s cereal, dry potatoes, and some canned food. The fridge has milk, juice, butter, bread, cheese, and lunch meat, hot dogs and frozen hamburgers, and fudge bars in the freezer, which is my favorite dessert. I will have to thank my mom. As much as she gets on my nerves, she does more for me than anyone ever has.

I head toward the bathroom. It’s tiny, a standing shower, towel rack, sink, toilet, and a small cabinet under the sink with some cleaning products and paper towels. My mom left two sets of towels and washcloths. I go into the bedroom, and it looks even smaller than when I checked it out the first time because my parents brought my bedroom furniture over. Which include my single bed, dresser and side table, and a lamp. The living room has an old couch and my beanbag from my bedroom and my tv and computer. The closet is the biggest thing in the apartment, and hopefully, I will be able to fit all my art stuff and all my other junk. I will have to start looking for a chair for my bedroom on the street nearby. People in this area move in and out a lot. And often, they leave some of their furniture on the curb. I will have to keep my eyes open on my way to and from Tyler.

I spent the next few hours arranging things to my liking when I noticed that my stomach was growling. I stand next to the open door of the refrigerator to see if there is anything I want to eat. I was about to settle on a hamburger when I heard someone banging on the door, and then the banging got louder. I hear laughing. I two-time it to the door. Because the next thing I know, my neighbor will be complaining about the noise waking him up.

“OK, OK, I’m coming.” I unlock the door and pull it open, and what do you know? It’s three of my friends from Tyler holding a pizza box and a six-pack. “Come on in, but you have to keep it down cause the guy next door works at night, and he’s sleeping.”

They are laughing their heads off. They must have had some beer on the way over. I laugh at them. Then we are all laughing, and then I hear a banging on the wall from my neighbor, who doesn’t appreciate all the hilarity. I put my finger up to my lips. And then they start laughing again. “Come in, come in. Thanks for bringing the pizza. My stomach was growling, and I didn’t feel like eating a hamburger.”

They all start milling around the apartment. “Hey, this is great. We can crash here sometimes when we have a big project to do, and we have to stay up all night and work on it. And then we have to walk around the corner to school.” They all start clapping. The guy next door bangs on the wall again. They laugh. I laugh. The guy next door isn’t going to get any sleep today. Well, he must have been young once.

We decide to watch a movie on my computer. We settle on The Vast Of The Night, which is a scary- sci-fi movie. We start watching the movie and scarfing down the pizza, and guzzling the beer. We scream at all the scary parts and sometimes laugh hysterically. I’m laughing so hard that a piece of pizza shoots out of my mouth all the way across the room. And this brings on another round of hysterical laughter and banging on the wall.

After the movie, we decide to play Fortnite, and this is a game of elimination. The ideal ending is one character is left alive, and everyone else is murdered. We love this game and would play it all night if possible. In the middle of the game, my friend Jamie decides to get some more beer and snack food. When he returns, we start a new round of eating and drinking and laughing our heads off. My neighbor has given up on banging on the wall and has come to the door to complain in person.

He says, “Hey, I can’t get any sleep with all this racket. He looks furious, but when he sees that we are playing Fortnite, he says,’ excellent, can I join in? This is my favorite game.”

“Yeah, sure, and we just got more beer and snacks. Have a seat. “

And that, my friends, was the first night of the best three years of my life. And you only have one life. You should live it to the fullest. Whatever that means to you.”

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THE SUMMER I MET MY BEST FRIEND

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The ancient house with the wildly overgrown garden is silent and secretive. It has been over fifty years since I lived in this town. I lived on Fellowship Road. My backyard faced Wilke’s backyard.

Old House

I can’t believe that this house is still standing, mostly intact. As I peruse my childhood memories from the early 1950’s, I remember Wilke’s house looked decrepit then. I  simply can not understand how it still exists. Everything around it has changed. Almost all the homes on Poplar Avenue have either been replaced by newer homes or updated and look unrecognizable.

I have such wonderful memories of sitting under our Willow tree on a hot Summer’s day reading a Nancy Drew mystery. Dreaming about my distant future when I too could become a famous female detective and solve crimes.

Occasionally while I was reading, Mrs. Wilkes would beckon me from her yard. There was shrubbery between Wilke’s backyard and ours that served as a fence that divided the two properties. But I could hear her calling out my name, “Sandy come over here. I have something to give you.”

And I would jump up and run over up to the bushes. And she would be standing there with her toothless smile and her shining, green eyes. Her long gray hair would be braided and wrapped around her head. Sometimes she would braid a blue ribbon in her braid. Occasionally she would add a rose or daisy from the garden she had in her backyard. I thought she was beautiful.

On this particular afternoon, she said to me, “Sandy would you do me a favor and taste this chocolate cookie for me? I have trouble chewing them. And I want to make sure they taste good. My grandson, Francis is coming to stay with us for the summer.”

“Sure, I would be happy to taste it.” She held out a cookie to me in her crooked and gnarled hand. I took a huge bite. “I think this is the best cookie I’ve ever had. Francis will like it. I can’t wait to meet Francis.”

I love looking at Mrs. Wilke’s backyard. The Wilkes spend almost all their free time working outside in the garden whenever the weather is warm. On the other side of the hedges, they planted a rose garden that follows a winding path throughout their back yard and continues into their front yard. There are over fifty different kinds and colors of roses. I know because one day, Mrs. Wilkes asked me if I would like to come into her backyard and smell all her beautiful roses. The aroma was overwhelming. And bees and butterflies are always visiting her garden.

On her side of the bushes, there are morning glories that bloom all summer. Early in the morning, I would run out to the bushes in the backyard to see what color the morning glories were that day. And I would pick one and give it to my mother.

My mother would put it in a glass of water and place it on the kitchen window windowsill. They are my favorite flowers. But the most beautiful thing in her garden was an ancient Weeping Willow tree that stood twenty feet taller than their old house. Mrs. Wilkes told me that it was planted by Mr. Wilkes’s grandfather, and it was the oldest tree in our town.

I love visiting Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes because they always had time to listen to me. They would sit quietly while I told them one of my stories. The summer that their grandson Francis spent there was one of the greatest summers I ever had. Francis was about ten years old, and he had bright red hair with freckles sprinkled across his face. His ears stuck out on either side, and the other kids used to make fun of him. He had the same beautiful green eyes that his grandmother had.

I spent the entire morning that Francis was supposed to arrive sitting in my backyard and reading a book. Somehow I know that Francis is going to become my best friend. I keep looking up from my book. it’s a Nancy Drew book called The Clue From The Old Wall. And it was really exciting. Nancy was protecting a treasure that was hidden in an old wall from thieves. I love reading Nancy Drew’s books because girls are hardly ever portrayed as heroes in all the books I read.

I’m having a hard time concentrating because I keep looking over at the Wilke’s to see if their decrepit old pickup truck is pulling into their dirt driveway. Their truck is so old that all the paint had been worn off by the rain, snow, and wind. But somehow I believe it is the most beautiful truck I’ve ever seen.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, I hear them coming down Poplar Avenue. I know it’s them because I could hear their truck before I see it. It backfires every couple of minutes. It sounds like it is on its last legs, but somehow it keeps going just like the Wilkes. They pull into their driveway and slowly descend from their seats. I see a red-headed boy jumping down out of the bed of the truck with a small suitcase. That is being held closed by what looks like an old belt.

I practically jump over the bushes and manage to get scratched from head to toe. But I don’t care. I run through their backyard and up to the front. I’m yelling at the top of my voice, “Francis, your here, your here.” He looks over at me with a surprised look on his face. Because he doesn’t know who I am and how I know his name. I see the Wilke’s beautiful, wrinkled face transformed by their ear-to-ear smiles. I run over to Francis and give him a squeeze around his waist. His face turns red, but he is still smiling.

Mrs. Wilkes says, “Francis, meet your new best friend, Sandy. She lives on the other side of our backyard, and she has been waiting impatiently for you to arrive. Francis looks at me with a shy grin on his face and says,” Hi Sandy, I’m happy to meet you.”

I look at him and say,” we’re going to have so much fun this summer. We can go swimming at the pond, ride bikes and go downtown to the shops. Especially the bakery. I just love donuts, do you? And we can roller skate on the sidewalk. And we can go to the clay pits and dig for fossils. You’ll love it here. I can hardly wait for the 4th of July. We can go downtown and ride our bikes behind the band and throw candy at everyone along Main Street. And you can meet all my other friends that live on Fellowship Road. Not to mention all my friends from school. This is going to be a great summer, you’ll see. I said this all in one breath without stopping. Francis had a huge smile on his face now, and so did the Wilkes. Oh, I almost forgot we can go to Schucks to buy penny candy. I love candy so much. And they have a jute box in there. And we can watch all the teenagers dancing. Oh, I almost forgot, on Saturdays we can go to the movies at the Roxy theater. It’s right on Main Street. It only cost a quarter. I bring my lunch with me, Lebanon Bologna and cheese. I’ll bring two, one for me and one for you.

Mrs. Wilkes laughs out loud and say’s,” doesn’t that sound great, Francis?”

“Oh, I almost forgot, there is also a bus that picks kids up at the front of the police station and takes us to the Riverside skating rink. You can rent skates if you don’t have any and skate all day for fifty cents. I always fall down about a million times. But I don’t care. It’s fun.”

Francis looks at me and then turns around and looks at his grandparents and his eyes are as big as saucers, and his smile is from ear to ear. He says, ‘can we go downtown I would love to see it. I live out in the country, and there isn’t much to see there except blueberry farms.”

“How about bringing your suitcase into the house and getting settled and having something for lunch? I made homemade chicken noodle soup, and I can make grilled cheese sandwiches. You’re invited to Sandy, but go ask your mother first?”

“Oh, I’m sure she won’t care.”
“Go ask first. All the same, Sandy.”
“Alright, I’ll go ask. I’ll be right back.”

And in less than five minutes, I was knocking at their back door. I had never been inside their house before. My house was about fifteen years old. But their house was old, really old. They used to have a farm, but they sold the land to the church when they stopped farming. The church made the land into a parking lot.

And that day was the beginning of the best summer of my whole childhood. Francis and I became best friends. And we kept in touch for many years. And then, in 1969, Francis got drafted into the army, and he was sent to Viet Nam. It was one of the saddest days of my life when I heard he got killed there. His grandparents had passed away years before that. I was always glad they didn’t have to face the loss. After that first summer, he spent every summer until he was about sixteen when the Wilkes passed away one right after the other.

And now, here I am, visiting my old neighborhood, and I swear I can see Mr. and Mrs. Wilkes smiling out at me from their porch. I feel tears pooling up and running down my cheeks. I smile back at them and they wave goodbye to me, and then they’re gone. I turn away and walk past the house where I lived my entire childhood and where strangers live now. And I think I was the luckiest kid in the world. I had a wonderful childhood, especially after Francis and I became best friends. The Wilkes and Francis will always live in my heart and my memory.

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LIFE IS A GIFT, YOU CAN ONLY DO IT ONCE, IF YOU DO IT RIGHT,ONCE IS ENOUGH

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It’s just an ordinary Monday morning. I arrive at my job at Ellis Insurance Company at eight AM sharp. I sit down at my desk and look around the office. It’s unoccupied save for myself. This is extremely odd because Harry and Everett are always sitting at their desks and hard at work when I arrive. Huh, I think that’s weird.

Bank Robbery

I shrug my shoulders and decide to start the coffee and have a look at my schedule while I drink my super-caffeinated brew. I like to start the day with a kick in the keister. If you know what I mean. It looks like it is going to be a busy, busy morning which makes the absents of my bosses even stranger. They’re nose to grindstone types. You know the first ones in the office in the morning and the last to leave. I start looking over the files of the clients that will be arriving shortly. I finish two cups of coffee and feel the call of nature.

When I get up to use the loo, I hear the bell on the door ring and see that it is one of my office mates Martha. She is the bookkeeper. She is a strictly business kind of person. In other words, Martha and I don’t go out on Friday night for a nightcap. She keeps her personal life, personal. We have worked in the same office together for six years and I know nothing about her except that she drives a ten-year-old Honda. That she keeps in tip-top order. She’s tight with her money. She squeezes a penny so tight that I’ve seen Lincoln shed a tear. Yeah, I know that’s an old joke. But it’s a good one.

I tip an imaginary cap at her to say, “hello.” And she raises her chin to me. In Martha talk that’s almost a hug. Then I say, “Martha, did Harry or Everett mention that they would late coming in today?”

“No, they did not but let me check my cell phone to see if they texted me.”

About half a minute later she says, “no nothing.” And then she starts getting ready for the day by booting up her computer. And that’s the last thing she says to me that entire day. Martha is not one to mince words or waste words. I’ve often thought she would have made a great mime. Since she hates to have to resort to talking for any reason.

I was almost finished going through the files I had set aside for this morning when I suddenly realized that Everette and Harry have neither shown up or contacted me or Martha. “Martha have you heard from Everette or Harry yet?”

“No, not yet. I don’t remember them ever being this late without giving us a heads up. It’s probably nothing to worry about. And they’re well aware that we can keep the office running without them. Maybe they just went out for breakfast. You know how they love to eat at the greasy spoon restaurants, the greasier the better.”

“Still I would have thought they would have let us know.” Martha just shrugs her shoulders again and goes back to work. I shoot a text off to Everette since he’s the more organized of the two of them. I decide to continue working until lunch and if we still didn’t hear anything I was going to start contacting the clients they have appointments with this morning and if necessary calling their wives., but that will be the last resort. Harry’s wife is extremely high-strung and jealous. Since Harry has a problem staying away from the ladies. He has a roving eye And Everette’s wife does not like to be bothered by anything going on here at Ellis High-Risk Auto Insurance. In addition, I’m somewhat reluctant to make their families worry without proof that anything is wrong. I set my timer on my cell phone for noon and then I would start my calls.

At twelve o’clock sharp my cell phone alarm goes off and it startles me so much that I let out a little scream. Martha says,” what the hell is wrong with you. You half scared me to death?”

“Sorry Martha, my alarm startled me. I’m going to call Everette and Harry’s wives and see if they know where they are. I’ll try to do it in such a way that they won’t freak out. You know how high-strung they both are.

“High Strung, by that you mean nutty as a couple of fruit cakes? Why are you so worried? They are grown, men. They can take care of themselves.”

“Yeah, I know but still I’m going to check with the wives. I’ll let you know what they say.”

“Don’t bother, I’m sure they’re out to breakfast with new clients or something.”

I called Everette’s wife several times, no answer. She isn’t picking up. I didn’t leave a message because I didn’t want her unduly worried. I just asked her to call me back when she has a chance. Then I called Harry’s wife. Wow, you wouldn’t believe what a nutjob she is. The message on her phone was- I’m busy. Leave me or message or don’t it’s up to you.” She is a real charmer that one.

As I’m eating my lunch which is a thermos of vegetarian vegetable soup and salt-free crackers I contemplate what I should do next. I decided to look at the local news on the internet. There is a news flash. It says local businessmen, Harry and Everette Ellis save the day. And then there is a video of none other than Harry and Everette being clapped on the back by the mayor. What in the world is happening? I yell at the top of my lungs,” Martha, Martha come look at this. Harry and Everette are on the local news. They are heroes.”

“What are you yelling at, I almost peed my pants. And what are you babbling about?”

“I’m not babbling, come here and look at this, Harry and Everette are on the local news. Apparently, they stopped at the bank to make a deposit and there was a bank robbery occurring as they walked in the door. Harry and Everette snuck up behind the robbers and hit them over the heads with money bags. Apparently, Harry was also depositing his daughter’s savings which were ten years of quarters she had been saving. They knocked them out cold. Can you believe it?

“Can you believe it?”

“Honestly, it sounds like a lot of bolognas. It’s probably just a publicity stunt.”
A publicity stunt, what are you talking about? Do you think Harry and Everette set up a fake bank robbery to get publicity? Wow, you are nuttier than I realized. They could go to jail for doing something like that. You have no faith in people at all do you?”

“No, no I don’t why would I? Have you seen the people that come into this office day after day? They are the dregs of humanity, low-life scums.”

“Really that’s what you think of our customers? Then why are you still working here? Why don’t you find another job somewhere else?”

“Maybe, I will. I’m sick of this place.”

I just stare at Martha and shake my head back and forth in disbelief. “Wow, it was better when you kept all your thoughts to yourself. Six years of almost being mute and this is what you finally spew out?” I feel kind of sick to my stomach, I can hardly look at her. You never know who people are and then you do and you wish you didn’t know anything about them.

At that precise moment that Martha enlightened me about who she really was all these years, Harry and Everette burst into the door all smiles. I jump up out of my seat like it’s on fire and run over to them and give them a big smile and a hug. “Our heroes are here. I’m so proud of you two. You two are so brave. You could have gotten yourselves shot.”

“Thanks, Eleanor, I guess we didn’t think about how dangerous it was. We just reacted. The robbers were threatening to shoot the bank tellers and the bank customers. They are all people we have known for years. And there was no way we were going to allow that to happen.

And then Harry whispers, let’s get them and he pointed at the heavy bags of quarters we were carrying. Then the robbers said, you two, get over here and they were shoving all the customers into the bank president’s office. As they pushed us into the office Everette and I swung the money bags and bam we hit them both hard on the head. And they hit the floor like a ton of rocks. And the coin bags split open and poured all over their heads. They didn’t get up again until the police arrived and dragged their sorry asses out into the paddy wagon.”

I hugged them both. Meanwhile, Martha never looks up or says a word to either of them. Harry says, “Hey let’s all go out to lunch and celebrate. What do you say?”

I said, “hell yeah, let’s go to that Japanese restaurant down on Route 38. I love that place.”

“Wait, let me get my purse. Harry and Everette look over at Martha and say, “Hey Martha how about it? Do you want to go out to lunch?”

Martha looks up at them and sees how excited they are and believe it or not she said,

‘Sure, that sounds great.”
I was flabbergasted. I guess it’s never too late for an old cranky old mute to learn a new trick.  That life is a gift that never take for granted.

 

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THE HITCHHIKER

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It‘s the last week that I‘ll be driving to Santa Barbara from Lompoc. Because I’m graduating from college next week. I’ve been living in Lompoc, California for the last three years.

It’s a little over fifty-mile drive from Lompoc to Santa Barbara. But I‘ll miss the breathtaking mountainous landscape. The air is intoxicating. I would even miss the Santa Ana winds.

The Masked Man in a black cape

The people are friendly in California. I’ve made a great many friends while I lived here and I would miss them terribly. I hope that we’ll keep in contact with one another. But I know that our lives would be busy once we started working and move back to our respective home states.

When I was about halfway to Santa Barbara I see a lone figure on the road in the distance. I can’t imagine who would be hitchhiking at this time of the day because there is rarely any traffic. And the chance of getting a ride is unlikely. I rarely pick up hitchhikers because you just never know what might happen. Especially if it is an isolated area like it is here in the mountains. But I thought why not? I could not imagine passing this guy and leaving him to walk nearly fifty miles on foot. I’ll be fine.

As I get closer I realize that the hitchhiker is wearing some kind of long, black cape. And the cape is blowing and flapping in the Santa Anna wind. He looks like he might take off at any minute? Maybe I need to just pass on by him. He’s probably some kind of serial killer or something. I was within thirty feet of him and he turns around and looks straight at me. And that’s when I saw he was also wearing a black mask over his eyes. I almost step on the gas to speed by him. I mean who the hell goes out dressed in a cape and mask in the middle of nowhere?

But my curiosity is greater than my common sense as usual. I can not bear an unsolved mystery. If I don’t find out what this guy is all about it will drive me crazy. I’m the type of guy who is nosy and curious. And I just have to find out what this dude is all about.

So I start to slow down and pull over to the side of the road about five feet behind him and honk my horn. I’m certain this guy knew I was behind him the whole time. He doesn’t stop immediately, but he slows down and turns his head in my direction and stares straight into my eyes. It felt like he was burning holes right through me. I felt my body grow hot than cold. I felt like this was my body telling me that this guy was bad news. I was about to slam my foot down on the gas hard. When suddenly this guy was at the passenger side of the front seat and he pulled the door open and pulled it closed, hard. Then he reaches over and locks the door.

I am almost afraid to look away. In fact, I find I can’t look away even when I try. I feel like my eyes are locked onto his and I can’t turn away from him. And then just as suddenly he turns his head to stare out the front window. He doesn’t say a word to me, no hello, no thanks for picking me up. Nothing, nada. Zip, zero. So I take off the parking brake, and put the car in drive, and take off.

After about twenty minutes of driving in silence, I try to summon up the courage to say something to this freak. I clear my throat about five times and manage to squeak out, “so what’s your story?”

He ignores me completely, it’s like he doesn’t see or hear me. I start to sweat big time. I’m having an adrenaline rush, first the sweats, then chills, and now my throat feels as dry as the Sahara Desert. I decide I will just have to try and calm down. I know it’s my own fault that I found myself in this precarious position. I’m always doing things that all common sense would tell anyone else no way, no how. But not me, I jump in the deepest creek or even worse the shallow water without a second thought. It’s like I have some sort of death wish or something. I’m an impulsive guy. And that’s not a good thing. Ever.

Another ten minutes goes by. I turn my head and look at him and he’s still sitting there as if he has turned into stone. No expression on his face on what I can see of his face. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

I decide to act casual as if this is an ordinary occurrence for me. Like I pick up masked strangers wearing long, black capes every day, all day long. I try again, “so are you headed for Santa Barbara for any reason in particular? I’m going to college there. This is my last week and then I graduate and I’m moving back to the Philadelphia area. Where are you from?”

He doesn’t say anything. This has got to be the weirdest guy I’ve ever met or maybe met isn’t the right word? Maybe encountered is the right word. I hope I don’t have a problem getting rid of him at some point. I pray this doesn’t turn out to be the worse mistake I ever made. “Hey buddy, I’m going to have to stop at the first gas station along the way. Do you want to get out then? I’m kind of in a hurry I have to get to school, exams this week. So, I definitely think you should find another ride when I stop for gas. I look at him, he is like a black hole, no reaction. I start sweating.

I see the gas station is up on the right. “OK, buddy we’re here. This is where you get off. I pull into the gas station and ask the attendant to fill it up. I have to go to the bathroom. So, good luck buddy.” I give him one last look and turn and head toward the men’s room.

As I open the men’s room door I look right and left and don’t see my weird masked hitchhiker. Gone, he’s gone. Good riddance buddy, good luck you’re going to need it I mumble to myself. Maybe, just maybe I have learned something from this experience. I walk toward the gas pumps. And I see nothing. My car is gone and so is my masked companion. Gone with the wind and took my freaking car with him. That is when I realize that I left my keys in the ignition. And I had just used the last of my cash to fill up my gas tank.

I run over to the gas station attendant that waited on me. “Hey did you see that masked man take off with my car?” If I wasn’t on the edge of losing my mind I would have laughed at what the words that just came out of my mouth.

The gas station attendant said, “oh yeah he left about five minutes ago. Was that his car? What’s with the mask and cape? I’m surprised you would hitch a ride with that weirdo. You should be more careful.”

At this point I feel like the top of my head is about to explode. My face is burning up. I scream, “that was my car, he stole my car. And you’re right I should have been more careful. Can I use your telephone to call the police? I don’t have any more money I used it all on the gas.”

“Yes, go ahead. How did he start your car?”

“I left the keys in the car, yes, I’m that stupid.”

I run into the gas station and grab the phone. “Hello, my name is David Stein.” I’m at the Sunoco Station on Route 101 ten miles north of Santa Barbara. My car was just stolen by a masked guy wearing a cape he is driving my car which is a Pontiac Firebird. It is Cherry red. I gave the guy a hitch and when I was using the toilet he stole my car.”

I stood there at the gas station for a good hour and a half waiting. I didn’t know what to do. After a while of standing, I sat down on the curb and covered my eyes. I was afraid that I was going to start crying in front of the gas station attendant and anyone else that happened to be there. I was mentally beating myself up, telling myself over and over how stupid I was. My last week of school, and now this happens. I feel like throwing up.

The gas station attendant comes sauntering over to me, ever so slowly. “Hey buddy, the cops just called, they said they caught your guy. He made it all the way to the outskirts of Santa Barbara and one of the local cops noticed your weirdo in the mask and cape getting out of your red car and arrested the guy after he couldn’t show proof of ownership. And then he checked your plates and it was your car. They arrested the guy and he is on his way to the slammer. They are on their way here to pick you up. You will have to go with them to show proof that the car is yours. And then he turns and walks away.

At this point, I don’t know if I feel like crying or laughing. So I do both. Wow, this day has been one for the books. I plop down on the curb again and wait and wait. Finally, the cops show up. I walk over to the car and say, “yeah, hi. I’m the guy whose car got stolen by a guy with a black mask and cape on? Is my car alright?”

The two cops look like they were on the verge of laughing at me. But hold it back. Probably because they could see the tears staining my dirty face. “Get in the back buddy, and we’ll take you to the station. Do you have proof of ownership?”

“Yes, it’s in my wallet.”
“You know you shouldn’t have picked up that weirdo, right? And you should never have left the keys in the car with a hitchhiker was in the back while you went to the bathroom, right?”

“Yes, I do. It was a mistake. Believe me, I have learned my lesson. Never trust a man wearing a mask and a cape. And who is that masked man, do you know?”

“Yes, we know who he is. His name is Michael Splain. He escaped from the Federal Penitentiary in Lompoc. They can’t explain where he got the mask and cape but they did say he was a total nut job and you’re lucky that he didn’t do more than steal your car.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky. Lucky he didn’t kill me. I know I will never pick up another hitchhiker as long as I live.”

“Ok let’s go we’ll take you to the impound lot and you can get your car back. They might charge you for having it there if it stays there overnight so we better get going.”

I jump in the back seat of the patrol car. And my internal dialogue begins, when will you ever learn to not trust everyone you meet, stop being a sucker, stop being a bleeding heart?  And on and on and on.

When we arrive at the impound the cop that talks to me says,  “so you’re the guy that got robbed by the masked marauder?”

I hang my head down. I realize that I am never going to hear the end of this episode of my life and didn’t know how I would top it. But I knew that somehow, someday I would.

 

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