Tag Archives: friendship

A BEST FRIEND WHO LIVES FAR AWAY, MY PEN PAL

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Remember when you were a young child, and your mother used to tell you stories to help you fall asleep at night? I have a story to tell, but it doesn’t have a good ending. So, here goes. It all began when I was a young child. I absolutely loved going to the Ben Franklin Store in my hometown, where I grew up. It was actually called the Ben Franklin 5 & 10 Cent Store. Because many of the items in the store could be purchased for five or ten cents, I would spend hours walking up and down the aisles at all the treasures that were for sale. And all I needed to have was a dime, a quarter, or a pocket full of pennies, and I could get one of the treasures for a mere penny, nickel, or dime.

I would walk around town, up and down Main Street, with my head down, looking for a penny, a dime, or a nickel. And on a lucky day, a quarter. I could buy a whole lot at the 5&10 for a quarter. For me, it was like a treasure hunt. Just looking for the loose change lying on the sidewalk was exciting. It was exciting to go to the 5&10 and buy something with its aisles and aisles of cool stuff. The ladies that worked in the store were always so cheerful and welcoming. They never lost patience with me or any of the other children that used to go there. They would often make suggestions on what to buy.

One day, I was walking around in the back of the store, and I happened to find an envelope filled with canceled stamps from all over the world. Next to it was an album for sale for a dollar where you could store all your stamps. The lady who worked in that part of the store came over to me and explained that all the stamps had been canceled. Meaning they had been used by someone in another country and mailed to another part of the world. The lady who worked in the store told me that for a dollar, I could buy an empty album and fill it with canceled stamps worldwide. She also suggested that I try contacting some kids my age from other parts of the world and write back and forth to them. She said they were called Pen Pals.

I talked to my fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Mc Elliot, who told me about a Pen Pal Program I could join that the school I attended promoted. Several weeks went by, and I didn’t hear anything more about my pen pal. Then about five weeks after that I received a letter with a weird looking stamp on it. And it said Ireland. I had no idea where Ireland was located. So, I showed my father, and he said, “You don’t know where Ireland is?” And I said, “no.” So, he said, “Why don’t we take a walk downtown to our library and look at the globe.” I was so surprised that he said he would walk with me that I started jumping up and down. My father rarely went anywhere with me alone. Since we had a big family. But, sure enough, he said, “Let’s go.” Off we went down to Main Street and to the library, which was located right next to the town police department.

As we entered the library, my father said, “Do you have a library card?” And I said no. What’s a library card?”

“It’s an official card that says you can borrow library books. You have to take good care of them and return them on the due date. Otherwise, you get charged for being late.”

I started jumping up and down and saying, “Yes, yes, yes, I want a library card. I love to read.” The next thing I knew, we were in the library. It wasn’t really big, but it was packed with books from the floor to the ceiling.

Then, my father said, “come on I’l show you where Ireland is on the globe. So, he took me to the middle of the room, where a round globe was sitting on a table. “ Here it is, here is where we live, and here is where Ireland is located. He pointed to it, “See where I have my finger? That is where my mother and father were born, in County Down Patrick in Ireland. My mother came to America in 1904 from Ireland. And I was born in 1910 here in the United States. I looked at my dad and said, “Wow, you are really old.” Then he said, now you know that your family came from Ireland to America. And they came to have a better life and more opportunity than Ireland since it was such a small country.

Then, my father went up to the librarian lady and asked if I could apply for a library card. Believe it or not, she said, “But of course, she can.” My father spelled out my name and address and showed her his driver’s license. The next thing I knew, I had my very own library card.

Now that you know that your family came from another part of the world, you can find a pen pal from Ireland if you want to start writing them. Or you can write to anyone in the rest of the world who speaks and writes English towrite to you.

So, that very same week, my teacher gave me the name of a student about my age who lived in Ireland. And I started writing them. It turned out to be a girl about my age, and she even sent me a picture of herself. And she looked to be about my age. I didn’t understand the words she used in her letters, but I kept writing back, and she wrote me. She told me in her last letter that someday she would like to come and visit me in America. I couldn’t sleep for a week after that. I thought she was going to come any time now. But, she meant someday in the future, she would come.

Anyway, her name was Coleen O’Cabri, which my father said was a big coincidence because that was his father’s last name. However, when he moved to America, he changed his name to Carberry. O’Cabri meant driver of the chariots, which my father said was also a strange coincidence since he started out his working career driving trolleys and buses in Philadelphia.

Unfortunately, my father’s mother had other ideas for him. His mother believed working in the office and Philadelphia Transportation Company, or PTC, was more prestigious, as my father called it. And so, he worked for the rest of his working life, scheduling the buses, trolleys, and drivers. It was a good job, but he had to work nights. And he used to sleep during the day. I rarely saw my father since he often slept during the day, and I was supposed to keep quiet so I wouldn’t wake him up. And he went to work at night.

Anyway, as I was saying, I decided to keep writing my pen pal Coleen O’Cabri, and I told her that O’Cabri was my dead grandmother’s name. When she wrote back, she told me that O’Cabri was a fairly common name in that part of Ireland. I told her that we had people from all over the world living there in America. And that my best friend was a mixture of Irish and Italian. She thought that was really weird. I explained to her that people from all over the world came to live here in America. I asked if she would like to come and visit me someday. And she said she would like that. Maybe when she grew up and had some money saved.

Coleen said there were some things different in Ireland. She said Ireland’s nickname is the Emerald Isle. Believe it or not, there are something like 30,000 castles in Ireland, and one of the oldest lighthouses is in Wexford, Ireland. Contrary to popular belief, the shamrock is not a national symbol of Ireland. Some people in Ireland spoke Gaelic, but most people since the eighteenth century spoke English in Ireland. Which I thought was weird. But then I realized that she had been writing me in English since we started being pen pals, and I didn’t even think about that at the time.

Another thing she told me that I didn’t know was that six million Irish people moved to America. At that time, it has been estimated that nearly two million people—about a quarter of the population—emigrated to the United States in a ten-year period.

That is how my family came to live in America: my father’s mother emigrated to the United States at the turn of the century. My father was born in 1911, and I was born in 1951. My mother’s family was also from Ireland. My mother’s last name was Brown. Marie Gertrude Brown until she married my father in 1929 and became Marie Carberry.

The Irish have contributed to America in many ways. They and their descendants made incalculable contributions to politics, industry, organized labor, religion, literature, music, health care, and art.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that people from Ireland or any other country that came to the United States were not that different from us. Some of their customs might be slightly different, or their food might not be the same as ours. But we are all people trying to make our way through life. Sometimes, having to struggle from one day to the next. But people are all the same. I kept writing to Coleen for a long time. Believe it or not, we became good friends by writing letters to one another. And I hope that one day she will come to visit me. And that I can go visit her. Do you remember what Forrest Gump said? He said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.”

But I know my friend Colleen and I will eventually get together. I don’t know if she will come here, or I will go to Ireland. But, one day, we will meet. And it will be my dream come true.

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Each New Page Is A New Day In The Diary Of Your Life

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I never considered myself to be naive. I’ve lived in the world for a long time. And I’ve had my share of life experiences to make me even more aware that not everyone you meet in life is trustworthy. But in addition, there’s the old maxim, “Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover.”

Unfortunately, I’ve always been succor for a beautiful smile falling. My mother always told me to ensure a person’s smile reaches their eyes. If it doesn’t, their smile is fake, and therefore don’t trust that person.

Unfortunately for me, about six months ago, I found myself in somewhat of a pickle. I decided to go down to my basement to look for a book that I had read years ago. I looked everywhere upstairs and even went so far as to search my attic. Oh, but that was a mistake. I spent three days going through old newspaper clippings and furniture that I no longer needed or wanted. But, still, I was unwilling to throw it away. I even found some of my father and mother’s memorabilia, including some of her silver. I realized I definitely needed to clean out my house from top to bottom. It was a mess. 

It was really too much for me to do on my own, so I put a small ad in the local newspaper for a part-time person to help me clean out my attic and basement. I was offering five dollars an hour, and for some reason, I only got two responses. One was a teenage boy who looked about ten years old to me. But he insisted that he was sixteen. He looked at my attic and said, “Oh, you got to be kidding me. I’m not cleaning out this mess for only five dollars an hour. And then he gave me a cold stare. And the other one was a woman who looked about thirty-five years old. And was thin as a reed and looked like she hadn’t eaten a good meal in a long, long time. She also seemed really nervous and jumpy.

She came into my house like a stormtrooper. She rushed around like the house was on fire. And then said, alright, “I’ll take a good look at your attic. And then I’ll give you an estimate for the whole job. I will clean the house from top to bottom, including the basement and the attic. When she returned to my living room, she handed me a small piece of paper that said $500.00. I looked at the paper, and I said,” Are you out of your mind? I told you the pay was five dollars an hour. Do you plan on working more than two weeks here??”

Lady, you have clearly underestimated how long it will take to clean up this mess you have created for yourself. You won’t find anybody else who will do this job for less. Take it or leave it. I don’t have all day. I have other fires to stoke.”

“Other fires to stoke. What in the world are you talking about?”

“ It’s just an expression, meaning I’m a busy woman.”

I stared at her for a minute or two, unsure what to do. I decided I wasn’t going to find anyone else to help me. So, I would have to bite the bullet and pay the piper. So, I said, “OK, when can you start? And how long do you think it will take? And also, I’m not going to pay you until you complete the entire job. And I’m satisfied.”

“OK, I’ll start Monday. You must order a dumpster to put all the trash in.”

“What? I’m not getting rid of everything I own. I’m just getting rid of things that I don’t need anymore. On the first day, we will walk through the house and make a list of all the things that have to go and those that won’t. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand. I’ll be here first thing Monday morning at 9 AM sharp.”

And with that, she went out the front door and slammed it shut. The whole house shook. I hope I wasn’t making the worse mistake of my life.

I guess I have to give her credit. She did arrive at 9 AM sharp on Monday morning. She banged on the front door as hard as she could. I opened the front door, and I said, “Oh, for heaven’s safe, you don’t have to bang on the door so hard. The whole house shook. By the way, I realized after you left that I didn’t get your personal information and references before you left the other day.”

“ My name is Thelma Rice; I’ll give you the names of a couple of people I have worked for recently and their phone numbers. I see you got a small dumpster, and you’ll probably have to have it emptied a couple of times. It would have been cheaper to get one big one, but that’s on you, not my problemo. Where do you want me to get started?”

“Let’s get started with the cellar. I’ll go down with you and tell you what has to go and what I want to keep. I got a new light in the stairway and in the basement. I feared you would break your neck going up and down the steps in the dark.”

“ Oh wow, how thoughtful of you to put a light bulb in the stairway for me.”

She looked at me with such disdain, I had to look away. I felt like we started off on the wrong foot. But my intuition told me there was no right to this woman. “OK, why don’t we go down and start making a list of what has to go and what will stay.”

“Yeah, let’s. I’ve really been looking forward to it all weekend.”

I didn’t realize she was being sarcastic immediately until I looked at her face. “OK, let’s go. I’ll lead the way.”

We made it safely down the steps. I rarely went into the basement except to put the wash in and take it out. It really was a pit down here. But what can I say? Basements are not supposed to be a place where you spend a lot of time after all. We walked from the front of the basement to the back, and I wrote down a list of what absolutely had to stay and what was going in the dumpster. I guess I didn’t realize how much crap I had saved over the years until now. I even found an old washboard that was my grandmother’s. It might be something of value just because it was an antique. But I put it on a list of the stuff that had to go.

About four hours later, I said, Thelma, that looks about it for the basement. Let’s head upstairs. I made some fresh coffee and bought a couple of Danish for us to eat for a snack. What do you say?”

“ I say, it’s about time. I”m starved. I didn’t have anything to eat this morning. And a cup of strong coffee would really hit the spot. Let’s head up.”

I looked at her, and I thought that was about the nicest thing she’s said to me since I first met her. “Sure, let’s go and take a little break. It will do us both good. I have to admit the basement is really a pit.”

“So, we made our way up the stairs. And I said, “So, how do you like your coffee?”

“Black, two sugars, and hot.”

“Really, Thelma? That’s the way I like it too.”

For the next five minutes, we ate and drank the coffee in silence. And then Thelma said out of the blue,” This reminds me so much of Sunday morning after my parents and I came home from church and ate breakfast. Except, we always had bacon and eggs and toast and hot coffee. But this was really nice.”

“My family used to do the same thing. Sunday was always my favorite day of the week. It was the only day I saw my day. He worked all the time. We had a big family, and he rarely took a day off. My mother would make a cake on Saturday morning, and we used to eat it after Sunday breakfast if we still had room in our stomachs. She made the best cake in the world. My favorite was vanilla cake with chocolate icing. It was delicious. I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee, so I drank tea or hot chocolate.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common. I still miss my mom and dad. However, they have been gone for many years. I would give anything to see them one more time. A tear ran down Thelma’s face as I said this. And my tears followed soon after. It was ridiculous for two middle-aged women t cry over the loss of their parents so many, many years ago. After a few minutes, we stopped crying, and I offered Thelma another cup of coffee, but she said, “Better not, or I’ll have to use the lady’s room sooner rather than later. I’ll have one later if that is alright?”
For the rest of the afternoon, we carried stuff out of the cellar and went up and down the steps and brought boxes and boxes of stuff I didn’t even remember having out to the dumpster. I kept asking myself, “Why, oh why did I keep all this stuff for so long?”

When it was time for me to leave, Thelma said, Thank you for all of your help. And then she stopped talking and said, “I’m sorry, but I forgot your name. What is it?”

“Well, you’re probably not going to believe this, but my name is Louise. So, together that makes us the team of Thelma and Louise. And I believe we do make a good team. We work quietly but efficiently. We got a lot done. And we shared a pleasant meal together. You probably won’t believe this, but I don’t really get along with many people. I guess I tend to pre-judge people, or maybe I’m just a big grouch. My family always told me I was a grouch, so maybe I am.”

“Well, Thelma, I think we get along fine. It was somewhat of a rough beginning. But now we are really rolling forward and getting a lot done with no difficulty. So, I’ll be here first thing tomorrow. Maybe you should call the company that brought the dumpster over and ask them to pick it up and bring an empty one over.”

“Good idea, I forgot all about that. Thanks for reminding me. I do really feel like we got a lot accomplished. I feel good about it. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. How about if I stop by the donut shop on the way and pick up some treats? I have to admit I really have a sweet tooth. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, Louise.”

The next morning I woke up with a start and realized I had forgotten to turn on my alarm clock. It was eight o’clock. I would have to skip my shower and throw on my clothes and stop at the donut shop on the way. I bought hot coffee for two and four donuts. I wouldn’t ordinarily eat so much junk, but I felt justified because we were doing all the heavy lifting and running up and down the steps”

As I walked up to the front door, Thelma said, “Oh, it’s so nice to see you again. I didn’t realize how lonely I get here at home by myself until you started coming here. Well, today, we’ll be working in the attic. It is hot up there, so I opened all the windows and turned the big fan on. So, at least we get some fresh air. I also stopped at the food store and picked up boxes to put all the stuff in rather than climbing up and down the steps so much.”
We spent the next four hours going up and down the steps carrying boxes. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any hidden treasures or anything valuable. One unusual find was a speaker from a drive-in theater. Thelma explained that when she was a kid, her family used to go to the drive-in theater. And once, her father forgot to take the speaker off the car window and drove off with it. And he never took it back, and he put it up in the attic. It was a somewhat valuable object for her because it was probably the last time her family went to the drive-in and saw an outdoor movie. And it had always been a good experience for her. And reminded her of her father, who she still missed after all those long years ago.

The good thing in life is that memories can stay with us for our entire lives, and they do not take up space, and there’s always more room for more memories. Thelma hoped that after Louise was finished helping her clean out the clutter, she and she could become friends and make some new memories. And much to her surprise as Louise said, “ I hope I am not over-stepping, but I was wondering if you would like to go out on Saturday to breakfast with me. And perhaps go to a local Farmer’s Market to pick up some fresh veggies and fruit and then later go to lunch together?”

“Really, I would love that. I haven’t been out to eat for years. And going to the farmer’s market would be such a treat. I haven’t done that in years. Do you want to pick me up, or do you want to give me your address, and I’ll come get you?”

“Well, how about I pick you up this time, and next time you can be the driver. I know we are going to have a great time. And the weather is supposed to be beautiful. How about at 9:00 Saturday morning and bring some shopping bags for the fruits and veggies. They both smiled at each other and said, “See you then,” at the same time. Then they laughed again. They gave each other a big hug. Who would have thought that two such different people would become friends? But the fact is life gives you many opportunities to find happiness and friends. You have to be ready to grab it while you can.

 

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THE MOST PRECIOUS TREASURE IN LIFE

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Of all the pastimes that I have enjoyed over my lifetime the one, the one I loved the most was beachcombing. I spent all my summers in Wildwood, NJ as a child. Wildwood is a beach town on the Southern Coast of New Jersey. And when I grew up I saw no reason to stop going. Unfortunately, I was only able to go to Wildwood for two weeks during my summer vacation as an adult. But I counted the days until I returned like a child counting the days until Christmas.

If there‘s a better place to spend the summer than the beach I have yet to find it. The salty air, the ocean, the sky, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocky shore. And more than anything the feel of the warm sand between my toes. It‘s heaven on earth. Boy treasure hunting

I spent the long, hot, and sultry summer days walking from one end of the beach to the other. I carried a large plastic bag with Captain Hook’s picture on it over my shoulder. When I started to feel too hot I would run down and jump into the ocean to cool off. The water was cold and shocking at first but then I would get used to it. And I would swim out the waves and let the waves carry me back to the beach. I never felt more alive or free.

As I walked the beach I would look down and kick the sand to see if I could uncover hidden treasures. When I first started to comb the beach I would pick up shells in every shape and color and starfish. One day I found hundreds of tiny little shells and I filled up my bag to the brim.

When I got back home that day I put the bag of little shells on the floor under my bed. And later that day my mother went into my room to change the bedsheets and low and behold she saw hundreds and hundreds of tiny crabs crawling all over the bed and on the floor and under the bed and up some of the walls. I heard her yelling my name out at the top of her voice. And I knew that I was in big trouble. But I couldn’t imagine what I did wrong.

My mother continued to scream until I managed to collect them all and put them in my beach bucket. She looked at me like she thought I was out of my mind. “Why in the world would you bring all of these creatures into my house. You better find every one of them and take them back to the beach this minute. Don’t ever do this again or you won’t be going to the beach anymore. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were crabs. I thought they were just little seashells.”

I collected all of the crabs, at least I thought I did. And I took them back to the beach and released them. However, for the next week or so I found a crab on my bed, one in my closet and one made it all the way into the hallway before I caught it. And believe it or not about a month later I found one crawling in my sink and before I could catch it went down the drain. I guess he found a shortcut to the ocean.

One hot and humid day I walked down to the beach early in the morning and I saw an old guy walking on the beach he had something in his hand that had a pole with a round metal circle at the bottom and he was moving it slowly across the beach. I thought “what in the world is he doing?”

I decided to run up to him and ask him what he was doing. He was concentrating and he didn’t notice me coming near him. So, when I screamed “hello” at him he jumped about a foot into the air. I started laughing, and he got real mad and ask me, “are you out of your mind startling me like that? I could have had a hard attacked and died right in front of you?”

I looked at him, and I was about to say, “sorry”, when he started laughing. “What are you up to boy? What’s your name?”

“Everybody calls me Sandy because I’m always dragging sand into the house from the beach. But my real name is Sammy. I like to comb the beach for treasures and add them to my collection.”

“Is that so? Well Sandy that‘s exactly what I’m doing. I comb the beach with this metal detector for treasures. It can tell when there is any kind of metals under the sand. And it makes a sound when it finds metal. It can detect metal that’s under twelves inches of sand. I’ve found beer cans, coins, and a couple of rings. One of them was a gold wedding ring. And I found an old watch. Tons of stuff, some of it was valuable and some of it was trash. I do it for fun and it gives me an excuse to walk up and down the beach and to talk to interesting people like yourself.”

“Really? I would love to get a metal detector. Do you know how much they cost?”

“You can get a cheap one for about one hundred dollars. But a good one will cost ya about two thousand dollars or more.”

He saw Sandy’s jaw drop down as far as it could Sandy said. “Wow, I don’t think my parents have that much money. I guess I’ll just keep looking with my feet.”

“What do you mean looking at your feet?”

“I mean, that as I walk along the beach, I kick the sand up with my feet and if I see anything or feel anything I dig it up with my shovel and my hands and I put it in my bucket and take it home. Last time I found a hundred little shells and I brought them home to my room and it turned out that they were little crabs. And they crawled all over my room even in my closet and on my bed. My mother had a fit. One even went down the hall to the bathroom. Now I’m not allowed to bring anything home that might be alive. Parents are no fun.”

“Well, Sandy, would you like to walk along the beach with me today and see if I find any treasures? Do you want to run home and ask your Mom if that’s alright?”

“No, she doesn’t care. She never asks what I’m doing as long as I’m home on time for lunch and dinner. Anyhow, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, sorry I should have introduced myself to you. My name is Bill. My friends call be Billy Boy though. So, why don’t you call me Billy Boy? As I consider you a new friend.”

Sandy looked at Billy Boy and said, “OK Billy let’s go. I can’t wait. We’re going to find some gold doubloons I know it. Then my mother will be happy when I make her rich.”

“Well, I don’t know if we’ll find doubloons but you never know let’s be on our way.”

Sandy and Billy Boy spent three hours on the beach looking for treasure. And then Billy Boy said, ” you know what it’s almost lunchtime how about we take a walk on the boardwalk and get some lunch?”

“Yeah, I’m starved.”

“OK, Sandy how about the Do Wop Diner? They have the best hamburgers and Milk Shakes in Wildwood.”

“Yeah, Oh I love hamburgers and milkshakes. I want a chocolate shake.”

“Me, too Sandy. That’s my favorite too.”

Billy Boy and Sandy spent an hour eating and talking about the treasures they would find. And then Billy said, “I have to take a trip to the boy’s room I’ll be right back. Sandy gulped down the remainder of his milkshake. And as Billy Boy walked up to their table. Sandy let out a loud burp. And Billy Boy laughed and so did everyone that was sitting near him.

Well, I paid our bill, so let’s be on our way and continue our treasure hunt shall we?”

“Yay, let’s go.“

And they walked down the boardwalk for about twenty minutes and Billy Boy said, “Hey how about we play a game or two and buy some fudge. I do so love me some fudge.”

“What? I love fudge too.”

Ten minutes later they had finished their fudge and felt so full they could burst. And Billy Boy said, “back to combing the beach.”

After about ten minutes or so of walking down the beach, the metal detector started beeping. “What’s that Billy Boy?”, said Sandy.

“Why it’s telling us there is some kind of treasure down there. Start digging.”

And then Sandy dug and dug and dug and then suddenly he yelled, ” I found it, I found it, at the top of his lungs. And he pulled up a leather bag and it felt heavy. He shook it and it sounded like coins. Sandy yelled, “we found treasure, we found treasure.” Both Billy Boy and Sandy started jumping up and down. Which was no easy trick for Billy Boy since he was seventy-five years old.

Sandy opened the pouch and he found coins, but they were ancient coins. They were new ones. Billy Boy looked at them and said, “oh, look they are coins from the casino. Somebody won them and put them in this leather pouch. We aren’t rich, but we’re lucky. Who knows what we’ll find tomorrow. Gold dubloons maybe, you never know. Do you want to meet me out here tomorrow and we’ll try our luck again, same place, same time?”

“Yeah, we’re going to be rich aren’t we?”

“Well, Sandy, I feel richer already?”

“You do, Billy Boy how come?”

“Well, Sandy, I’m richer because I made a new friend today.”

“You did, who?”
“Well, you of course Sandy. I feel like the richest man on the planet. How about we split these coins and we’ll meet again tomorrow, buddy?”

“Yes, buddy let’s do that.” And Sandy smiled from ear to ear. And he never felt happier than he did at this moment.

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THE EARLY BIRDS GETS THE WORM

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As far back as I can remember my family has been telling me that I let my imagination run away with me. One family member actually had the audacity to tell me I was full of malarkey.

As a child, I would come home after playing outside with my friends and as soon as everyone was seated at the dinner table I would regale them with the adventures I experienced that day.

I always begin by saying, “wow you won’t believe what happened to me today.”

And then one night at the dinner table my oldest siblings said, “oh no, here she goes again with one of her wild stories. Mom, can’t you tell her to shut up? We can never eat in peace. You know she is full of bologna. There is no way that one person could have some crazy thing happen to them every single day of their life.

The weirdest thing that happened to me today is that my boss at Acme didn’t fire me. After I forgot to bring in the dairy delivery immediately after it arrived. He’s fires people for smaller mistakes. I consider it almost a miracle that I still have a job. But you don’t hear me telling you every night what awesome or strange thing happened to me every day do you?”

“Larry does not use that kind of language at the dinner table. And leave Sandy alone. She’s not doing any harm. She just has an active imagination. That’s all. She’s a very creative kid with a big imagination. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, imagination, sure. If anyone of the rest of us told so many lies, we would never hear the end of it.”

“He’s right Mom. You do favor her. She gets away with murder.”

“That’s enough Libby. How about we all just eat out dinner quietly.’

As a result, I never did get to tell them what happened to me. Every time I tried to bring it up. Someone would tell me to shut up, And my mother would say, “you are not allowed to say shut up in this house.

“Maybe I should start at the beginning. After I got out of school that day, I ran home. So that I could change out of my school uniform and into my play clothes. And then I ran over to my best friend’s house down the street. I banged on her front door. No one answered.

I banged and banged at the door for at least twenty minutes. I was about to give up and then I saw someone at the front window. She looked like a witch. Her hair was standing up in every direction. Her face had something sticky smeared across it. All the way up to her hairline. At first, I thought it was blood. The longer I looked I realized it was some kind of food on her face, maybe jelly. The window was half-opened she screamed out the opening, “help, help me they are keeping me, prisoner, here. Help, help, help.”

At first, I thought I better run away. She‘s some kind of witch, She‘s going to eat me. But then I saw tears slowly running down her face from her red, bloodshot eyes and down her wrinkled cheeks. And she kept wiping them away with the back of her hand. This further spread the jelly or whatever it was across her face. There seemed no end to her tears. I ran up to the front garden under the window and yelled up at her, “are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you want me to call the police?” She continued to moan and cry, “help me, help me.”

I decided to try getting into the house through the screen porch at the back of the house. My friend, Jilly lived there. But it didn’t seem like anyone else was home but this old lady. Jilly had told me that they never locked the back porch in case one of them got locked out of the house by mistake.

So I pushed it open and ran over to the kitchen door. I turned the knob and I was in. I stepped into the kitchen it smelled like pizza like it always does. My best friend‘s family is Italian and they eat spaghetti or lasagna or pizza almost every night. It always smells delicious in their kitchen. I called out, “Hello, hello where are you?” I could hear her crying from the living room. I yelled out, “hello it’s me, Sandy.”

Nobody answered me. So, I just walked quietly into the living room. I didn’t want to scare her. “Hi, it’s me, Sandy.” I saw her still looking out the living room window. I tiptoed up to her and said, “hi, I’m here. She screamed at the top of her lungs. I let out a scream myself. ” Good grief, you scared me half to death. Where is everyone? Why are you all alone? Where’s Jilly?”

She said, ” they left me all alone. They are keeping me a prisoner. They won’t let me out.”

I said, “let’s sit down in the kitchen. I know let’s eat a cookie. I saw some on the counter when I walked through there. Do you want a cookie?” She smiled for the first time.

“Yes, cookie, I want a cookie.”

I helped her sit down and pushed her chair in. We both sat quietly and ate the chocolate chip cookies. And then I said, “are you Jilly’s grandmother?”

“Yes. I’m a grandmother.”

“Are you living here now?”
“Yes, I’m living here. They left me all alone. I was taking a nap and when I woke up, they were gone. I was scared and lonely and all by myself.”

“Well, I‘ll stay here until they come home. Would you like that?”

“Yes, stay. I’m scared.”

We sat and ate our cookies for a while and I ask her what’s your name? She said, “my name is Alma. I came here a long time ago. I’m from Italy. We landed in New York City at the Statue of Liberty in 1905. We lived in Camden, New Jersey for many years. My husband was a tailor and he made suits for men. I had twelve children. They are all grown up and have children of their own. And some of their children have children. My husband died and now I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone Alma. You live with your son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren. And now you have me, I’ll be your friend and I’ll come to visit you anytime you want me to. Maybe we could take a walk around the garden in the backyard. And there’s a big swing hanging from the Willow Tree that we could take a ride on. What do you say?”

“Yes, I say let’s take some cookies outside too. I love cookies.”

“Really I love cookies and candy. Next time I come over I’ll bring some cookies that my mom made. They’re oatmeal raisin. They are so yummy.”

Alma had a big smile across her face. And that’s when I saw Alma didn’t have any teeth. And I wondered how she could chew the cookies. I handed her two of the cookies and we sat down on the couch that was on the back porch. She finished her cookies before I did.

“Good, they’re good cookies. Give me more.”

“Maybe next time, I don’t want you to get sick.”

She smiled at me. And that’s when I heard my friend Jilly’s car drive up. It was an old car and it made a lot of noise. I said, “Alma your family is home. Do you want to go back into the house?”

She said, ‘no, I like it out here. It’s nice and there are a lot of birds and flowers. I used to have a garden when I lived in Camden in the front yard. I had all different kinds of roses. And we had a grapevine and my husband used to make his own wine. I miss that.”

“Maybe your son would let you have a garden here. And then you could go outside in the fresh air and not be stuck in the house all the time.”

“Yes, I would love to have a garden again. Let’s do that.”

And then I thought, oh no, I shouldn’t have told her that. Maybe they’ll say no. And then she’ll be sad again. “Alma, stay here. I’m going to run around front and tell them we are out on the porch. So, they won’t worry. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

I ran out front and Jilly’s father said, “what are you doing here? Why are you here all the time?”

My friend Jilly’s father was a grouch, just like my father. I ignored what he said. And I said, “I was visiting Alma I heard her crying when I was knocking at the front door. And we were sitting on the back porch eating cookies. I told her I would bring her some of my mother’s cookies the next time I come over.”
“How did you get in the house Sandy?”

“I came in the back porch. Jilly told me it is always unlocked. And your mother and I were visiting on the porch and eating cookies. She said she wants to have a garden in the backyard. She loves flowers and grapes.”

“She did, she’s done nothing but cry since she got here. OK, let’s go see her on the back porch. We all marched around the yard to the backyard. Alma was sitting there quietly looking at the backyard. “Hello, Sandy said I could have a garden and work in the backyard.”

“She did Mom. That sounds like a great idea.”

And Sandy said, “she will come over and help me.”

“Well Mom, that sounds like a fine idea. And maybe Jilly can help you as well.”

And that is when I saw the most beautiful toothless smile appear on Grandmother’s face. That’s what she told me to call her, Grandmother. I never had a grandmother before. So, at least once a week I go over and help grandmother in the garden. And she tells me all kinds of stories about the olden days when she was growing up in Italy.

And that is how I made my second best, Alma. At least once or twice a week I go over to Jilly’s house and sit on the back porch and eat oatmeal raisin cookies with cold milk. And sometimes we go in the yard and work in the garden. I’m in charge of any worms we find. Because Alma is afraid of snakes. I keep telling her that these are just little worms but she doesn’t believe me.

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THE GARDEN OF TEARS

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It seems like a lifetime ago but it really wasn’t. It was only a year ago that I had lost all faith in myself and my life so much so that I didn’t feel like living anymore. It all began when I was involved in a serious car accident. I was driving along Route 70 in Cherry Hill. I was taking my mother to her eye doctor. She only had vision in one of her eyes because she had a detached retina the year before and her eye doctor was unable to repair it.

My mom was sitting in the front passenger seat. Out of nowhere a semi-truck in front of me lost control of his vehicle when someone cut in front of him and he was unable to slow down quickly enough and he hit the car and I rear-ended him. And then a car behind me hit my car. That’s the last thing I remember. 

When I woke up or perhaps became conscious I found myself in the emergency room of a hospital. The first words out of my mouth were, “is my mother alright? She was with me in my car. Is my mother alright?”

The nurse that was standing next to me took a hold of my hand and said, “I’ll go get the doctor.”

“No wait, wait just tell me that my mother is alright.”

The next thing I knew there was a tired-looking bespectacled and bald doctor standing next to my bed. He said, “Miss Reynolds, I’m sorry to have to tell you this but unfortunately your mother was very seriously injured and she passed away on the way to the hospital. There was nothing we could do.”

“What? No that can’t be true. We were just on the way to her eye doctor’s. It’s a twenty-five-minute drive from our house. She can’t have died. She’s the only family that I have left. The tears started running down my cheeks. I felt my heart break. I mean I literally felt my heart break in two. There was a tremendous weight in my chest. I couldn’t understand how I could still be alive and breathing. My chest started to hurt, I couldn’t breathe.

The doctor called out for the nurse to bring the defibrillator stat. The next thing I remember is when I woke up I felt confused. I didn’t immediately recall what had happened. There were all kinds of tubes in me and on me. There was something in my throat and I couldn’t talk. And then a doctor and a nurse appeared out of nowhere. And they started checking all the tubes and my pulse.

The doctor said, “Miss Reynolds, please try to calm down. Do you remember where you are?”

I tried to calm down. I slowed down my breathing and counted to fifty. My mother used to tell me to do that when I got upset. As I thought of my mother, it all came rushing back to me. And the tears started streaming down my face again.

“Miss Reynolds please try to remain calm. You had a mild heart attack. You’re going to be alright. But you must keep calm. I’m going to ask you some questions. Please don’t try to talk, just nod or shake your head from left to right. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head up and down.

“Are you having any chest pain or difficulty breathing?”

I moved my head from left to right slightly.

“Alright you’re doing well, now try to take slow, easy breaths. It doesn’t look like any serious damage was done to your heart. I have no doubt that you will recover completely. I want you to stay here for another twenty-four hours and we will monitor your heart and your overall condition. And send you home with some medication and the name of a cardiologist that you should see in about two weeks. He will take over your care. And once again I want to remind you to take it easy and slowly return to your regular activities. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head up and down.

“OK, we’re going to remove the tube in your throat, but leave in the IV for now. It will feel a little uncomfortable and your throat may be sore for a couple of days. Today you will be on a liquid diet. And if you are feeling better tomorrow we’ll try solid food. And hopefully, you will be released. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”

I nodded my head up and down again.

A nurse came into the room and stood next to my bed, “alright nurse could you please remove the endotracheal tube?”

As she removed the tube I felt a choking sensation and almost started coughing but I calmed myself down and I was finally able to breathe on my own again.

“Can you breathe without difficulty?”

“I said, “yes.” But my voice came out all raspy and my throat hurt.

“Can I see my mother?”

“I’m sorry Miss Reynolds but your mother is no longer in the hospital morgue. She was transported to the local mortuary. The nurse will give you the information and phone number for you to contact if you feel up to calling them. Or if you give the nurse a family or friend’s name we can contact them and ask them to come here and assist you in these details. Do you have someone to call?”

“Yes, my closest friend, Marilyn.”

“Do you have any relatives to call and notify?”

“No, no one. My mother and I were the only family left and now she’s gone. My father died two years ago from cancer. I’m all alone.”

“ I’m sorry to hear that but please, please try to relax. You can give the nurse the name of your friend and contact information. I will come in later before I’m off–duty today and check on you. There‘s a button you can push if you need help to go to the bathroom or you need anything else. Alright?”

I nodded my head up and down. But the tears kept running down my cheeks even though I had put a smile on my face for the doctor. And then he turned and walked slowly out of the room. I wondered how anyone could even work in a hospital and remain sane. All the death, the loss, the fear, responsibilities, and the weight of all the broken hearts.

The next morning I was given a soft boiled egg and limp toast for breakfast and lukewarm tea. I hate soft-boiled eggs but I ate it anyway my stomach was growling. And I know that they wouldn’t let me out of here until I ate something and went to the bathroom.

I called Marilyn and she said that she had been trying to get a hold of me for two days and was going out of mind with worry. I told her about the car accident and she started to cry. Which made me start crying all over again. She told me she would be there at ten AM sharp. And I believed her because she has never let me down ever. She is the sister I never had. I trust her as much as I trusted my dear mother.

The doctor came into my room about twenty minutes after I hung up the phone on Marilyn. “how are you feeling today?”

“Honestly doctor I don’t know how to feel. I never lost my mother before and had a terrible car accident and had a heart attack in the space of two days. If it wasn’t for my friend, Marilyn I don’t know what I would do.”

“But how are you feeling physically? I think you should stay in the hospital for another day. But since you don’t want to do that I’m giving you my office number. And if you have any difficulty at all, any chest pain, call and we will fit you in. I have scheduled you for a check-up at the Cardiologist I recommended in two weeks, don’t miss it. If you have any problem with the medication I prescribed call my office. I’m serious. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand. Thank you, doctor. I’ll see you soon.”

My friend Marilyn showed up at 10 AM sharp. As soon as she came to my room’s door I felt the muscles in my stomach relax. She came over and put her arms around me and didn’t let go for at least five minutes. We were both crying. “Oh, Marie I’m so, so sorry about your mother. This is so hard to take in I can not even begin to understand how badly you feel. How are you feeling now? Are you having any more chest pains?”

“No, they put me on medication. It has helped a lot. I have the doctor’s number and I have an appointment set up in two weeks. I have to arrange the funeral. It’s just so difficult to believe that I’ll never see my mom again. And that’s when I started crying again. I don’t know where all the tears come from. I thought I would have run out by now.

“Well, I’m going to be with you the whole way. You won’t be doing this alone at all. And I went over to your house and packed a suitcase and your personal things and brought them to my house. Because that is where you will be staying for as long as you need to.”

“Thank you Marilyn I was dreading going to my house and not seeing my mother standing there waiting for me. I just don’t know how I will go on without her.”

“You won’t be alone, I love you like a sister. I hope you know that I will always be there for you, no matter what.”

I looked at Marilyn and said,”you’re the best I don’t know how I was so lucky to meet you and stayed friends ever since first grade.”

Marilyn helped me hobble over to the bathroom and then I said, “oh no, I don’t have any clothes to wear they cut them off when I was in the emergency room.”

“Not to worry Marie, I brought some comfortable pants and a sweatshirt and underwear and socks and a pair of your sneakers. I’m going to help you take the gown off and put on your clothes. I brought your navy blue jacket too.”

I looked a Marilyn and the tears rolled down my face. I wiped them away. And new tears appeared. “I’m sorry Marilyn I can’t seem to stop crying.”

“Don’t apologize anymore, Marie. You have nothing to apologize for. You are the strongest person I know. You took care of your dad for two years when he was dying from cancer. You have been taking care of your mother. You are so much stronger than you realize. You are the bravest person I have ever known.”

“I don’t feel strong at all. It feels like my heart could stop at any minute. I can’t think of a single reason to keep breathing in and out. I can’t imagine living another day without seeing my beautiful mother again. Life without my mom will be an empty and lonely one without her. Oh Marilyn I don’t think I can go on without my mother. It was bad enough when my dad died. And now I’m all alone.”

Now Marilyn was crying too. “No, no, no you are not alone. I am here for you and I always will be. Your mother wouldn’t want you to feel this way. She would want you to continue on with your life and find happiness again. She would never, never want you to give up on life. Promise me that you won’t give up. I need you. Look straight at me and promise that you won’t give up.”

I looked right into Marilyn’s eyes and they were red and swollen and I knew I didn’t want to be the one that made Marilyn feel alone in the world. I knew she needed me as much as I needed her. “I promise I won’t say that again. I will try my best. I will take one day at a time to keep going. I promise I won’t leave you alone. And then we hugged each other like we were never going to let go. And Marilyn helped me get dressed and I splashed some cold water on my face.

An orderly brought a wheelchair to my room and said, “your limousine awaits you, madame. I laughed for the first time. I knew he probably said this to everyone but still it made me feel special in that moment and I said, “why thank you so much.”

And we were on our way. I was leaving my old life behind me and moving into an unknown future. I took a deep breath and sat down in the wheelchair. And then Marilyn said, “come on Marie let’s go home now and you can get some rest, and guess what I’m making you your favorite dinner, french fries, and hot dogs.”

I smiled at her and then the orderly helped me get into my seat and buckled me in. I said, “thank you, kind sir.” And then he tipped his invisible hat and headed back into the hospital.

“OK, Marie relax and buckle up. We’ll be home in a few minutes I’m going to take the scenic route and avoid the highways. So why don’t you take a little nap and I’ll wake you when we get home.”

I no sooner sat down and buckled my seat belt and I must have fallen asleep immediately. Because the next thing I knew I heard Marilyn say,” we’re home, we’re home.”

I opened my eyes and I saw Marilyn’s house. I tried to hold back the tears. I really did. But it felt like I had no control over my body anymore. It did what it wanted. Marilyn just ignored the tears and came over to my side of the car and helped me get out and hobble over to the front door.

She unlocked the door, and let me in, “OK do you want to have lunch now or would you like to go take a nap first?”

“Hot dog and fries first”, I said.

“OK, have a seat at the kitchen table and I’ll go get you things out of the car. Don’t try walking around until I get back in here. You will probably feel a little weak for a while.”

“OK, I won’t. I’ll sit here and wait patiently. Looking forward to a cup of tea too. The hospital tea was never hot like I like it.”

“I’m going to make a whole pot of Earl Grey for you. I went out and bought all your favorite teas, including your favorite Chai.”

“You’re the best, thank you.”

Marie drank the whole pot of tea. “Oh that was so good, there’s nothing like Earl Grey.”

“OK, when you need to use the bathroom let me know, I’m going to make the hot dogs and fries. I know that’s not very healthy. But it’s your favorite.“

Marie swallowed her last sip of tea and Marilyn said, “do you want to take a nap now?”

“I think I better start making the arrangements for my mother now. It all seems like a bad dream. I felt the same way after my father died from cancer two years ago. Like it was a bad dream. I still can’t take it all in but I’m going to have to deal with it now rather than later. We didn’t really have any family left. But my mom had a lot of friends with the woman’s club and her church so I’ll have to get my mom’s phone book to let them know. And I’ll have to get the papers from my dad’s funeral so I can contact the funeral parlor and the cemetery where my dad is buried.”

“OK, after lunch do you want me to go over to your house and get the papers? And you tell me what you want to bring back here and I’ll put it in the back seat and trunk of my car. Anything big, we’ll have to hire a moving truck.”

“OK, but first I have to take care of the funeral and the service and contact my mother’s friends. “

“We can do this together, don’t worry.”

Two days later Marie and Marilyn were in the church waiting for the funeral service for her mother to begin. Marie couldn’t bear to see the coffin. She just couldn’t imagine looking down at her mother and knowing she would never see her sweet and loving face again.

And then Marie heard the priest say, “shall we say our final prayers for the deceased, Kathleen Reynolds. A loving mother and wife and friend to all that knew her. She will be missed by all. Please come up and say goodbye to her. Knowing that you will all be reunited in the afterlife. Marilyn could you please come up first and then everyone else may follow.

Marilyn swallowed hard and using all her remaining strength she got up out of the pew and propelled herself forward to the front of the church in front of the altar where her mother lay in her coffin.

Marilyn stared down at her mother or what remained of her mother’s early remains and made herself lean down and kiss her gently on her cheek. She whispered, “I love you with all of my heart Mom, I couldn’t have asked for a better mother and friend than you have been for me all of my life. I will think of you every day and keep you in my heart always. Until we meet again.”

As everyone filed out of the vestibule they followed one another out to their cars and to the cemetery. Marie and Marilyn’s car was the first to arrive following the hearse. And they drove quietly through the gate that said, THE GARDEN OF TEARS.’

Marilyn said that is such an odd name for a cemetery.”

“Oh, it’s called that because the owner said the tears of all the people who lost loved ones watered the flowers throughout the cemetery.”

Marilyn took her friend, Marie’s hand and held it throughout the funeral and kept it until they returned to Marilyn’s car, and then she gave her a big hug and said, “let’s go friend to whatever the future holds for us.’

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A LONG SUMMER’S WEEKEND

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It was August of 1965 I just turned fourteen years old in late May. My childhood best friend, Joanie calls me up one day and asks me if I would be interested in going camping with her other best friend Dolores Brennan.

Joan originally agreed to go camping with her but decides she really doesn’t want to go camping at all. Since she hates the idea of sleeping outside in a tent, on the ground. And has an almost pathological fear of insects, especially mosquitoes. And as everyone knows New Jersey is the breeding ground in the summer for every kind of biting insect, especially mosquitoes.

On top of that Dolores’s father was going to be going with them. And they would all be sleeping in the same tent together. Joan went on to explain that she felt really weird about sleeping in the same tent with Dolores and her father for some weird reason. 

My family never took summer vacations or trips when I was a kid, ever. Joan’s family took summer vacations to Florida almost every year. I had never been anywhere at all unless I could ride there on my bike. And my parents expected me to be home at five o’clock on the dot. Or there would be hell to pay. Well, not really. They just remind me, “You know we eat at 5 pm and you shouldn’t keep other people waiting.”

So, when Joan calls and asks if I would like to go camping with Dolores and her father I did not hesitate to say, “Yes, I would love to go camping with them.” And Joan responds, “great I’ll give Dolores a call and let her know that you’ll go. And I’ll give her your phone number and she’ll call you with all the details.”

I pack a bag that includes enough clothes for at least three weeks even though I would only be gone for two days. I “borrow” one of my older sister’s bathing suits. Since I didn’t have a swimming suit of my own that still fits me. As I had grown quite a bit since the last time I went swimming in Jackie’ Rice’s above-ground pool. Hopefully, my sisters wouldn’t notice it was missing before I left.

I nonchalantly tell my parents that I’m going camping with Joan’s friend Dolores and her father. They never met Dolores but have been hearing about her for years. Since I was extremely jealous of Joan’s friendship with Dolores. I insisted that Joan could only have one best friend. And Joan insists that it’s alright because I was her best neighborhood friend. And Dolores is her best friend in school. Joan is a year younger than I was and so she was in a different year of school.

The day of the trip finally arrives and I’m impatiently waiting for Dolores and her father to arrive in front of my house. They know that I live two houses away from Joan’s house. I stare out the living room window.  My father says, “you’re going to stare a hole in the window if you keep that up.” My mother says, “Leave her alone she’s not hurting anything by looking out the window.”

And then, at last, I see an old car pull up in front of my house. And I can see Dolores sitting in the front seat next to her day. “Here she is, I’ll see you on Sunday night.” And I grab my bag with my stuff in it and run out the door before they can change their minds about letting me go. I run out to the car as fast as I can. Dolores has her window down and says, “get in the back.” I am a little upset because she isn’t going to sit in the back with me. Then I open the car door and throw my suitcase onto the back seat and jump in. I glance out the window and I can see both of my parents looking out the front window and waving at me. I give them a little wave, and before you know it, we are on our way.

Dolores doesn’t even introduce me to her father, she just says,” hi.” And then she turns the radio up. Her dad pulls out into Fellowship Rd. and heads toward Route 73 South towards the shore, where we will be camping. After about a half-hour of silence, I say,” so how long a drive is it to the campsite, Dolores?”

“Oh, it’s about another forty-five minutes.” And then she turns the radio up louder. I start feeling a little mad and almost feel like telling them I want to go home. But I realize if I do that my parent will decide I’m too young to go anywhere without them. So, I keep my mouth shut. Dolores and her father start having a conversation about what people they know that might be there. And how they are looking forward to cooking over a fire and swimming in the lake that is nearby.

I decided that I will start asking questions so that they will include me in the conversation. I wish that Dolores had sat in the back seat with me. I wonder why she asks if I could go with her if she wasn’t going to talk to me and just ignore me sitting in the back seat of her car.

“Dolores, do you know how to swim?”

“What? Of course, I know how to swim, silly. Only babies don’t know how to swim.”

Oh, oh I think, I don’t know how to swim. I will have to be careful not to let her know. The only place I have ever been swimming was my neighbor above the ground pool. It is shallow and I can stand up in and it was about up to my chest. I never learned how to swim.

Her father still hasn’t said anything to me. My father is kind of a grouch, so he doesn’t really talk to my friends that come over, other than to tell them to pipe down while he’s watching TV. So, I try not to take his ignoring me personally. But the fact, that Dolores is ignoring me pretty much, is really making me mad. I’m not sure what I should do though.

After a while, we get on a big highway and I see a sign that says South Bound Atlantic City. So, I know we are getting closer. I realize that my ear is starting to hurt me. I must have gotten water in my ear when I was shampooing my hair last night. I get a lot of earaches so I know in a little while my ear is really going to start hurting me. I wonder if I should say something before, we get any further.

“Dolores, I’m starting to get an earache. Maybe your dad should take me back home before we get any further otherwise, I’m going to keep you up all night with my earache.”

“What? We’re not going to turn back now, we’re almost there, don’t be a baby.”

I’m so mad at Dolores now that I feeling like giving her a big punch. I knew there was a reason I didn’t like her. I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the trip. In about an hour her father announces, “here we are, get ready for some fun.”

My ear is really throbbing now and I know I shouldn’t go swimming or my ear will get more water in it and then I will get an infection. And I will have to go to the doctor’s when I get home. “Dolores, my ear is really starting to hurt, I’m not going to be able to go swimming.”

Dolores turns her head and looks at me and makes a really mean face at me. But she doesn’t say anything at all. And her father acts like he doesn’t even know that I’m in the back seat. Since he hasn’t said a word to me. I wonder what I should do, but I really have no idea. I just sit there with my ear throbbing. I guess I will just keep quiet and hope it doesn’t get worse and hope the weekend goes by quickly. I feel miserable.

About ten or fifteen minutes later we approach a sign that says. CAMPING FOR FAMILIES. Dolores’s father pulls up to the entrance and hands something to the guy in the booth at the entrance. “OK I got our campsite, lets go park and set up the tent and the campsite. He’s looking at Dolores and is still acting like I’m not in the back seat of the car. I feel like I’m invisible. I vow never to talk to Dolores again and I am definitely and going to tell Joan that I’m mad at her as well. Why didn’t she warn me that Dolores and her father were weirdos?

Dolores’s father pulls his car into the camping site and parks the car. Then he jumps out of the car and opens the trunk. “Ok, you guys come on out and help me unload the camping gear and set up camp.”

I feel a little better because at least he acknowledges that I exist for the first time. “Come on, get out and help.”

I’m so mad at Dolores that I feel my temper is rising and soon I will smack her or something. I go over to where she is standing and say, “what do you want me to do? I’ve never been camping before?”

“Just grab some of the stuff from the trunk and bring it over to where my father is standing and once, we get out everything from the trunk, we’ll set up the tent.”

“Ok.” And I do just that, she hasn’t even smiled at me or said anything to me except that I was acting like a baby. I’m so, so angry.

We follow Dolores’ father into the woods carrying all the heavy camping equipment with us. We have to make two trips to get all the equipment to the campsite. I have no idea how to set up a campsite let alone put up a tent. The only tent I ever put up was in my backyard. My friends and I would throw a blanket over the clothesline in the backyard and then pin it to the ground by hammering clothespins into the ground on either side of the clothesline.

I watch Dolores and her father put the tent up and set up a place to cook whatever food they brought with them. It is a small tent. And I can’t help but think and now I have to share this small space inside this little tent with Dolores and her father all night.

I wish there was some way to get out of this situation aside from demanding that they take me home right now. And I truly wish I had the guts to do just that but I don’t. Dolores says come on let’s take a walk and I’ll show you where the showers and the bathroom is located in case you have to go to the bathroom during the night.

“What? Do you expect that I will be able to find the bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night by myself? Are you crazy? I’ll get lost. Then what? If I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, I’m going to wake you up and you are going to have to go with me.”

Dolores looks at me like I’m crazy. “No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Yes, Dolores you are, or you and your father are going to have to take me back home right now.”

Dolores doesn’t say anything to me after that. And that was just fine with me. I didn’t care if she ever spoke another word to me for the rest of my life. Dolores says, “come on I’ll show you where the bathroom is just in case and the showers are right next to the bathroom. I hope you brought a towel with you because they don’t supply them here.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me that before we left? I had no idea, I told you I have never been camping before. We made our way through the woods to the bathroom and then we both went into a stall to pee. It was disgusting. Apparently, you are supposed to bring toilet paper with you too, but I didn’t know that. This was turning into a real nightmare. I yelled out, “Dolores, do you have any toilet paper?”

She yelled back, “you mean you didn’t bring toilet paper with you?”

“No, I didn’t Dolores. No one told me too and I never went into a public toilet that didn’t have toilet paper there for people to use. Why didn’t you tell me that either?”

I hear Dolores laugh. And then a roll of toilet paper flies over my bathroom stall and I barely catch it before it falls onto the filthy floor. What in the world is wrong with these people?” Why did my friend Joan like this girl? She was just awful.

After I finish using the bathroom, I left the stall and I can’t find Dolores. She wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. I go outside and call out, “Dolores, where are you? She calls out, “I’m over here.”

I look in the direction that her voice came from. And I find her talking to another young girl about our age. I say, “hello.”

Dolores says, “this is my friend Joan’s friend. Joan couldn’t come, so I brought her with me instead.”

“Yeah, aren’t I the lucky one”, I said. Can we go back to the camp I’m getting hungry I didn’t have any lunch. Dolores rolls her eyes at her camping friend. And said, “yeah, I guess so.”

Dolores’ Dad had set up the campfire and he put the sleeping bags in the tent. It was really going to be close quarters. But it was only going to be one night because I decided that tomorrow, I’m going to tell them my ear is killing me and I feel sick. And they’re going to have to take me home first thing in the morning.

We have hotdogs and corn on the cob for dinner. Which is good as I love both hotdogs and corn on the cob. I say, “thank you, that was good. I was really hungry.” They both look at me like I’m talking another language or something.

I wonder what we were going to do the rest of the night. I have a feeling it was going to be a really long night. I never slept outside on the ground. And I‘m sure I‘m going to have trouble sleeping. I hope I won’t have to go to the bathroom again. I decide I’ll just go to the bathroom behind a tree or something before I went wandering around in the woods.

It turns out that all the campers are going to meet in a central location and tell ghost stories and sing songs. I enjoy singing songs. But some of the stories are really scary and I know I’m really going to have a hard time falling asleep. Or I‘ll have terrible nightmares about being murdered in my sleep.

After everyone starts returning to their own campsite, we’re about to go back to ours when Dolores says, ‘I’ll be back to the camp in a few minutes I want to talk to my friend Marla, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

So, then I had to walk with Dolores’ father to the campsite by myself and he still hasn’t talked to me at all. I’m beginning to get that creepy feeling about him again. About a half-hour later Dolores came back to our campsite and whispers to her father. I can’t hear what she’s saying. But then she grabs her sleeping bag and leaves the campsite. “Where is Dolores going?” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Her father looks at me as if he just realized I was there. “Oh, she says she’s going to sleep in her friend Marla’s tent tonight. She’ll see us in the morning.”

“What? She isn’t going to be sleeping here tonight? But she asked me to go camping with her. And now she isn’t even going to stay here in this tent. And I have to sleep here in the tent with just you????”

“Yes, it’s not a problem I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind? But I do, and I know my parents wouldn’t like it at all.”

He doesn’t say anything more after that. But I was so worn out by the whole ordeal, that I just push my sleeping bag as far away from him as possible. And pull the sleeping bag up over my head and zip it shut as far as I can. And I promise myself that I will scream bloody murder if he comes anywhere near me.

Somehow, I manage to go to sleep, about halfway through the night I had to go to the bathroom so I sneak out of the tent and pee on the nearest tree. I crawl back into the tent and into my sleeping bag and zip it all the way up again.

I can’t fall asleep again, so I lay awake and listen to the crickets and mosquitoes all night. And as soon as it gets lite out, I wake Dolores’ father up and say, “I’m sick and I have to go home. I have a terrible earache and I feel sick. You have to take me home right now. Or, I’ll have to call my father and tell him he will have to come all the way here and pick me up. And he won’t like that because he works at night and he’ll have to go to work without getting any sleep.

He groans, and says, “ok, od let me tell Dolores that I’ll be back in a couple of hours. And then we’ll go. I knew this was a bad idea bringing some kid I didn’t know camping.”

If looks could kill he would have been dead where he stood. But he didn’t die, but he did take me home and never said a word the whole way. He drops me off in front of my house. I grab my bag and head into my house.

My mother is standing at the stove cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She’s startled when I walk in. “What happened are you alright? How come you’re back already?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but for now let’s just say it turns out I’m not much of a camper and leave it at that. And if Joanie calls any time in the next couple of days. Tell her I can’t come to the phone. Needless to say, that was my one and only camping experience for many years to come.

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WIND CHIMES

2 Replies

As Marie sits on the porch, the wind blows gently through the chimes. The sound doesn’t make Marie feel happy. Instead, there is an empty aching feeling that deepens. A tear slides down her face. She doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

Wind Chimes- Pixabay

The sound of the chimes brings back memories of her life with her husband, Harry. At times it feels as if he has been gone a hundred years ago. And at other times, she feels as if he might walk through the door at any moment. He would be wearing his red and white, Banlon striped shirt with a pack of Pall Malls in his pocket.

Harry Carlyle was a creative man. He had many hobbies, but by far, his favorite hobby was making wind chimes. He was a voracious reader. He read on every subject. And although Harry wasn’t a religious man. He never attended church, nor did Marie ever see him pray. He was a spiritual man. He studied all the religions of the world, including Christianity. At the end of his life, Harry seemed to believe in Buddhism and often quoted the teachings of Buddha.

Harry believed that bells and chimes attracted positive energy and repelled bad luck. He believed in living in the moment. that the past is gone, the future hasn’t happened yet. Harry began feverishly, making chimes, and they hung all over the entrances of their small home. On windy or rainy days, the chimes and bells would ring with great fervor. It set Marie’s teeth on edge. But Harry lived for these moments.

Harry and Marie were unable to have children, and Marie built her life around Harry. Content when he was home, but she felt isolated and lonely when he went out. Marie continuously checks the windows to see if Harry had come home.

Harry’s sudden and unexpected death paralyzed Marie. She feels an emptiness so deep it must travel through her body and reach the center of the earth. Marie made the decision after Harry’s funeral that she would go on as if Harry were still among the living.

The next day Marie arose at her usual time and washed her face and brushed her teeth, and made breakfast. She finished her household chores as usual. She even caught herself making comments to Harry out loud.

Months have passed since then: unfortunately, Marie has found it harder and harder to keep up the façade. One day in the middle of changing the sheets, Marie happens to find Harry’s lucky coin under the bed. It was from China, and it had a hole in the middle and some incomprehensible symbols on it.

Marie walks out to the front porch and slumps into the chair. She sits and looks out over the overgrown Rose garden. Oh, how Harry loved roses. She can barely look at them. She feels like pulling the rose bushes out by the roots. She considers her life. She doesn’t believe she has the strength to get through one more day. She feels empty and so alone.

Unexpectantly she hears a small voice call out, “Hello, hi, I just love your chimes. I walk by your house every day on my way to school. I’m in the fifth grade. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone on the porch.”

“Well, hello, I’m glad you like them. My husband, Harry, makes them. I mean used to make them.”

“Doesn’t he like to make them anymore?”

“My husband died several months ago. You know you are going to be late for school, you better go.”

“Oh, I have a few minutes. I go to the Ben Franklin School. I’m in the Special Classes.”

“What kind of Special class? What’s your name anyway?” I don’t remember seeing you in the neighborhood before?”

“My name is Lizzie. My family just moved here from Philadelphia a while back. My daddy had to change jobs.”

“What about this Special class of yours?”

“Oh, my mom told me it is because I have trouble learning. Sometimes when I try to read all the letters get mixed up. It has another name, but I can never remember it.”

“Oh, that must make it hard for you.”

“Sometimes, but there are kids in my class who have even worse problems. My Mom tells me to do my best. I better get going, or I will be late. See you later.”

“Bye Lizzie, it was nice talking to you.” Marie watches Lizzie walks and skips down the street. Marie takes a deep breath and is surprised that the heavy feeling in her chest feels lighter. She decides to work in her garden. “I have really neglected these roses, look at these aphids.”

While Marie works in the rose garden, she thinks about Harry. She knows he wouldn’t have wanted her to give up on life. She knows that she had put up a wall so she wouldn’t feel her grief.

The more she thinks about it, she realizes that she put that wall up a long time before Harry died. It began to happen when she made Harry the center of her existence. Harry had brought the world to her. Once he passed, she found herself alone inside the walls of her home and the walls she created.

For the first time since Harry died, the tears ran freely down her face. “Oh, Harry, what will I do? I don’t want to live the rest of my life alone.” That night as she lay in bed, she realizes that there was still hope for Marie McFarland. And realizes she hasn’t thought of herself as Marie McFarland since she was married thirty years ago.

The next morning after she gets out of bed, she gazes at herself in the bathroom mirror and says, “Marie, you don’t look too shabby for a sixty-something lady.” And a smile spreads across her face.

After breakfast, Marie keeps glancing out the window. She doesn’t realize at first what she’s looking for. Then she thinks of Lizzie with her big blue eyes and her long braids hanging down her back. And her crooked smile. At that moment, Marie hears tapping at the storm door. She finds Lizzie standing at the door with her hand thrust forward. “Hi, this is for you. I know it isn’t as good as your husband’s, but I hope you might like it. I made it with all the broken colored glass my father gave me. He makes stained glass. It’s a wind chime.”

Marie swallows hard, because of the lump in her throat. “Lizzie, this is the nicest gift I have ever received in my life. Could you stop by for some cookies before you go to school tomorrow? What’s your favorite kind? I’ll make them for you?”

“Oatmeal raisin is my absolute favorite I love them, I could eat a million of them.”

“Oatmeal raisin it is then, I’ll see you tomorrow. You know you can call me Marie, that’s what all my friends call me.”

The Stoop

2 Replies

“Jilly go outside and play. Stop moping around the house.”

Jilly flops down on the top step of the porch and looks up and down the street. There isn’t anyone in sight.

The boarded windows of the house across the street are tagged with graffiti. Broken bottles, beer cans, and trash are strewn across the overgrown, dead lawn in the front yard. The steps are covered with yellowed newspapers in various stages of decay. Unopened mail tumbles out of the rusty mailbox. The sad truth is it isn’t the only house on the block that looks abandoned. This neighborhood is the poster child for urban blight.

Jilly isn’t shocked or disturbed by the condition of the neighborhood. She has grown up in similar neighborhoods, some worse than this one. This is her third foster placement in the last year. She had to be moved here because her last foster mother overdosed and was taken away in an ambulance.

Sadly, this isn’t the first experience that Jilly had with junky foster parents. It was just the latest edition to a long line of looser adults that promised redemption but delivered empty promises.

Jilly’s glad that she had finished the second grade before being moved to this new place. Unfortunately, now she doesn’t know any of the kids in this neighborhood because she didn’t attend school here. It was a Catch-22 situation.

Something is tickling her foot. She looks down to discover a black ant marching across her feet and into a crack between the bricks on the steps. The ant is soon followed by several more of his six-legged comrades.

As she watches the ants as they hurry along the step and over to a discarded crust of bread. Each one of the ants picks up an immense portion of the crust and carries it just as quickly back to the crack in the step and down into their tunnel.

Jilly is so entranced by the activity of ants she doesn’t notice a cat that struts on the sidewalk in front of the house and down the street. Until he lets out a loud yowl as he passes the rusted gate.

She looks up and sees him. He’s staring right at her as he yowls again. It almost seems as if he’s calling out to her. She reluctantly leaves the ants to go and meet the cat.

She wrenches open the rusty gate and steps onto the sidewalk. Jilly leans down and scratches his head. She notices that the cat has scars and is missing patches of fur from his face and all the way down to his long-broken tail.

“Hi, kitty, what’s your name? My name is Jilly. I just moved here yesterday. Where do you live?”

The cat swishes his tail back and forth and continues his walk down the street. He looks back at Jilly one last time as he moves forward. Jilly calls out, “wait, wait for me.”

The cat walks pass two houses and then stops in front of a big old house that has a wide wrap around porch in front. It’s the only house on the block that looks as if someone cares about it.

The grass is cut and there isn’t any trash in the yard. There are flowers growing all along the white picket fence that surrounds the front yard. There’s an arbor that’s covered in climbing red roses. It smells like heaven.

Jilly is startled when the cat meows again loudly. A very old woman comes to the door. She’s wearing a long-flowered dress and has white hair pulled tightly back in a bun.

“Good morning Frank. I’ll be right out. Sorry I overslept this morning.”

Jilly looks around the yard she can’t believe how beautiful it is. How different from all the other houses and yards on the street. She looks over at the cat and he’s rolling on the grass. Then he starts grooming himself. He licks his paws and then washes his face and whiskers.

Jilly laughs at him. “So, your name is Frank.” Jilly walks over to Frank. And he allows her to stroke his head and scratch behind his ears.

The old woman walks carefully down the porch steps holding onto the railing with one hand with a dish in the other. “Well, who might you be? I see you’ve made friends with Frank. He’s a wonderful friend to have. He and I have known each other for many years.”

“Hi, my name is Jilly. I just moved into the house down the street. The one on the corner with the old fence around it.”

“Did you, and how do you like living there?”

“Like living there? Well, I don’t know. I just moved here a couple of days ago. I guess it’s all right. I have my own bed this time. And Mrs. P that’s the foster mom hasn’t yelled at me or hit me so far. And she cooks things besides macaroni and cheese out of the box. So that’s better than the last place I lived it. And I don’t think she’s a doper. So that’s good too I guess.”

“Oh, I see, well it’s nice to meet you, Jilly. And how did you meet my friend Frank here?”

“Well I was just sitting on the step watching the ants and he came walking by. He called out to me to follow him. And here I am.”

“Well Jilly, I’m so happy Frank brought you over for a visit. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Mrs. McFarland. Would you like to come sit up on the porch and have some lemonade and cookies? I just made them and was about to have my afternoon snack?”

“Cookies, yes I would love some.”

“Well, Jilly have a seat. Let me give Frank his lunch and then I’ll go get our snack. You can sit right there at the rattan table and chairs. I’ll be right back.”

Jilly watches as Mrs. McFarland puts Frank’s dish on the sidewalk and whispers something in his ear. Then she stands upright and walks back to the steps and into the house. As she opens the screen door she looks over at Jilly and gives her a warm smile. “I’ll be right back Jilly.”

Jilly watches the door afraid that Mrs. McFarland won’t come back out again but then she hears her say, “Jilly dear could you open the door for me?”

Jilly jumps up so quickly she almost topples the rattan chair. She pulls open the screen door and holds it back. She peeks into the house and sees a beautiful old piano and overstuffed chairs and a red velvet couch. There’s a wonderful glass lamp next to it that has pansies painted on the lampshade. Jilly has never seen such a place in her life.

“Well, here we go Jilly. Have a seat, I hope you like these cookies. They’re chocolate chip with coconut.  And here my dear is the fresh lemonade, enjoy.”

Jilly looks down at the cookies and the frosted lemonade glass. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven. She doesn’t ever remember having homemade cookies before. She takes one bite. It’s so delicious she can’t help but eat the whole cookie.

“Jilly dear, slow down. We have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I would love to know all about you.”

“You would?” Jilly can hardly believe her ears. No one has ever asked her anything about herself or listened when she tried to tell them anything. As Jilly starts telling Mrs. McFarland about the second grade Frank comes up on the porch and lies down next to Jilly’s feet.

Jilly leans down and pats his head as if she has been doing it all her life. She can hear Frank purring softly. She looks over at Mrs. McFarland and she has a sweet smile on her face. Jilly is finally here, she has found her home.

“Oh, these cookies are the best I’ve ever had. Can I have more lemonade?”

“Of course, you can.” Mrs. McFarland sits back in her chair and says softly,” continue on with what you were saying, Jilly.”

The Stoop

4 Replies

“Jilly go outside and play. Stop moping around the house.”

Jilly flops down on the top step of the porch and looks up and down the street. There isn’t anyone in sight.

The boarded windows of the house across the street are tagged with graffiti. Broken bottles, beer cans, and trash are strewn across the overgrown, dead lawn in the front yard. The steps are covered with yellowed newspapers in various stages of decay. Unopened mail tumbles out of the rusty mailbox. The sad truth is it isn’t the only house on the block that looks abandoned. This neighborhood is the poster child for urban blight.

Jilly isn’t shocked or disturbed by the condition of the neighborhood. She has grown up in similar neighborhoods, some worse than this one. This is her third foster placement in the last year. She had to be moved here because her last foster mother overdosed and was taken away in an ambulance.

Victorian home

Sadly, this isn’t the first experience that Jilly had with junky foster parents. It was just the latest edition to a long line of looser adults that promised redemption but delivered empty promises.

Jilly’s glad that she had finished the second grade before being moved to this new place. Unfortunately, now she doesn’t know any of the kids in this neighborhood because she didn’t attend school here. It was a Catch-22 situation.

Something is tickling her foot. She looks down to discover a black ant marching across her feet and into a crack between the bricks on the steps. The ant is soon followed by several more of his six-legged comrades.

She watches the ants as they hurry along the step and over to a discarded crust of bread. Each one of the ants picks up an immense portion of the crust and carries it just as quickly back to the crack in the step and down into their tunnel.

Jilly is so entranced by the activity of ants she doesn’t notice a cat that struts on the sidewalk in front of the house and down the street. Until he lets out a loud yowl as he passes the rusted gate.

She looks up and sees him. He’s staring right at her as he yowls again. It almost seems as if he’s calling out to her. She reluctantly leaves the ants to go and meet the cat.

She wrenches open the rusty gate and steps onto the sidewalk. Jilly leans down and scratches his head. She notices that the cat has scars and is missing patches of fur from his face and all the way down to his long-broken tail.

“Hi, kitty, what’s your name? My name is Jilly. I just moved here yesterday. Where do you live?”

The cat swishes his tail back and forth and continues his walk down the street. He looks back at Jilly one last time as he moves forward. Jilly calls out, “wait, wait for me.”

The cat walks past two houses and then stops in front of a big old house that has a wide wrap-around porch in front. It’s the only house on the block that looks as if someone cares about it.

The grass is cut and there isn’t any trash in the yard. There are flowers growing all along the white picket fence that surrounds the front yard. There’s an arbor that’s covered in climbing red roses. It smells like heaven.

Jilly is startled when the cat meows again loudly. A very old woman comes to the door. She’s wearing a long-flowered dress and has white hair pulled tightly back in a bun.

“Good morning Frank. I’ll be right out. Sorry I overslept this morning.”

Jilly looks around the yard she can’t believe how beautiful it is. How different from all the other houses and yards on the street. She looks over at the cat and he’s rolling on the grass. Then he starts grooming himself. He licks his paws and then washes his face and whiskers.

Jilly laughs at him. “So, your name is Frank.” Jilly walks over to Frank. And he allows her to stroke his head and scratch behind his ears.

The old woman makes her way carefully down the porch steps holding onto the railing with one hand with a dish in the other. “Well, who might you be? I see you’ve made friends with Frank. He’s a wonderful friend to have. He and I have known each other for many years.”

“Hi, my name is Jilly. I just moved into the house down the street. The one on the corner with the old fence around it.”

“Did you, and how do you like living there?”

“Like living there? Well, I don’t know. I just moved here a couple of days ago. I guess it’s all right. I have my own bed this time. And Mrs. P that’s the foster mom hasn’t yelled at me or hit me so far. And she cooks things besides macaroni and cheese out of the box. So that’s better than the last place I lived in. And I don’t think she’s a doper. So that’s good too I guess.”

“Oh, I see, well it’s nice to meet you, Jilly. And how did you meet my friend Frank here?”

“Well I was just sitting on the step watching the ants and he came walking by. He called out to me to follow him. And here I am.”

“Well Jilly, I’m so happy Frank brought you over for a visit. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Mrs. McFarland. Would you like to come to sit up on the porch and have some lemonade and cookies? I just made them and was about to have my afternoon snack?”

“Cookies, yes I would love some.”

“Well, Jilly has a seat. Let me give Frank his lunch and then I’ll go get our snack. You can sit right there at the rattan table and chairs. I’ll be right back.”

Jilly watches as Mrs. McFarland puts Frank’s dish on the sidewalk and whispers something in his ear. Then she stands upright and walks back to the steps and into the house. As she opens the screen door she looks over at Jilly and gives her a warm smile. “I’ll be right back Jilly.”

Jilly watches the door afraid that Mrs. McFarland won’t come back out again but then she hears her say, “Jilly dear could you open the door for me?”

Jilly jumps up so quickly she almost topples the rattan chair. She pulls open the screen door and holds it back. She peeks into the house and sees a beautiful old piano and overstuffed chairs and a red velvet couch. There’s a wonderful glass lamp next to it that has pansies painted on the lampshade. Jilly has never seen such a place in her life.

“Well, here we go Jilly. Have a seat, I hope you like these cookies. They’re chocolate chip with coconut.  And here my dear is the fresh lemonade, enjoy.”

Jilly looks down at the cookies and the frosted lemonade glass. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven. She doesn’t ever remember having homemade cookies before. She takes one bite. It’s so delicious she can’t help but eat the whole cookie.

“Jilly dear, slow down. We have all the time in the world. Why don’t you tell me about yourself? I would love to know all about you.”

“You would?” Jilly can hardly believe her ears. No one has ever asked her anything about herself or listened when she tried to tell them anything. As Jilly starts telling Mrs. McFarland about the second grade Frank comes up on the porch and lies down next to Jilly’s feet.

Jilly leans down and pats his head as if she has been doing it all her life. She can hear Frank purring softly. She looks over at Mrs. McFarland and she has a sweet smile on her face. Jilly is finally here, she has found her home.

“Oh, these cookies are the best I’ve ever had. Can I have more lemonade?”

“Of course, you can.” Mrs. McFarland sits back in her chair and says softly,” continue on with what you were saying, Jilly.”

VICTOR

2 Replies

It’s the fourth Friday of the month, and Victor sits at his usual table at Mickey D’s. His father is late as usual, or he isn’t going to show up at all. It happens sometimes. Victor’s father is unpredictable and unreliable.

Victor’s mother dropped him off a half-hour early. Because this was the only night she had to herself, she was anxious to be on her way. She calls it her girl’s night out. But Victor knows what it’s was all about. Because every fourth Saturday of the month, Victor wakes up to a different “daddy.”

His parents have been separated for eight months, and recently their divorce was finalized. Of course, there were years and years of fighting and anger and name-calling. That went on long into the night before the separation. So, it came as no surprise when his father packed up all his belongings one hot and humid night last summer—after one particularly spectacular knockdown screaming fight between his parents, Tammy and Jack.

That’s how Victor thinks of them as Tammy and Jack. He long ago stopped thinking of them as his parents. It wasn’t that he suffers under some adolescent fantasy that they aren’t his parents. And that one day, his real parents will come to claim him. It’s just so apparent that Tammy and Jack have no business being his parent or anyone else’s.

Victor is staring over at the French Fry Man. That’s how he thinks of him, The French Fry Man, not that it was his real name. The French Fry Man has some kind of problem and yells out weird barking sounds or sometimes curse words for no apparent reason. He also loses control of his arms and legs and the muscles in his face. And they tighten up and flay out without any warning.

The restaurant manager comes over and softly tells the French Fry Man that he must stop making noises. The French Fry Man would promise to try. But it’s obvious he can’t stop himself. His odd noises and yelling irritate fellow customers. And kids used to make fun of him all the time. So, Victor is reasonably confident that if he were able to stop himself, he would have done it by now.

Victor feels sorry for him. He often thought of him at odd times. At the same time, Victor is on the bus on the way to school. When he’s at home by himself, he considers how terrible it must be to be unable to control the noises and words that come unwillingly from his mouth. Victor observes him and can almost predict when it’s about to happen. He can see him tighten up his muscles, trying to prevent the spasm. But he isn’t able to control it.

Victor feels a connection to the French Fry Man. He feels the same loss of control about his life and where it’s taking him. As Victor sits there and watches the French Fry Man, his arm shoots out and knocks his French Fries off the table and all over the floor. This was the only thing that French Fry Man ever eats. Perhaps it’s the only thing he can afford to buy. The only luxury he allows himself. As the French fries fly off the table and are sent on their uncontrolled trajectory into Mickey D’s space, a whooping sound comes out of his mouth.

Victor sits momentarily and stares and listens as the inevitable laughter begins. A tear escapes from one eye and then the other. Victor wipes them quickly away and walks up to the counter and orders two large French Fries with extra ketchup.

Victor walks over to the French Fry Man’s table and stands next to it. He is momentarily tongue-tied. Then he says, “Hi, my name is Victor. My father was supposed to meet me here tonight. It looks as if he isn’t going to show up. I have this extra French Fry, and I’m wondering if I can share them with you? I hate eating alone.

At first, the man stares at him as if he is some kind of apparition, and then a smile spreads across his face. “Please sit. I would like that.”

This is how Victor makes his first real friend who always does as he promises and how Victor meets his “real” father.