Our Family Summer

“And once we tame this hair, we’ll head over to the Roses and pick out a nice new set of clothes for you,” Aunt Sara said lifting our little brother up onto the kitchen stool she’d set on the front porch. Little brother squirmed, wiggled and whistled through the gap in his teeth, but Aunt Sara kept a hand on him and he didn’t go anywhere.

We giggled together at his misery. Having been there ourselves we could all the better enjoy little brother’s suffering.

“You run along now,” Aunt Sara called to us.

+++

Daddy was around the side of the house laying on an unfolded cardboard box beneath his 1966 Ford pick-up. A lit cigarette rested in the metal lid of a jelly jar near his feet. One of us poked little sister in the ribs and whispered a dare take a puff off Daddy’s cigarette, but she said no she wouldn’t. We all knew how serious Daddy was about his smokes. He wouldn’t want a puff wasted on one of us.

Just then, we heard a loud bang and Daddy yelled out a cuss word. One that Momma said he should never say around the children. Then we saw Daddy’s hands on the truck’s bumper and he pulled himself out from under. He sat up and took a puff off his cigarette. “What’re you over here doing?” he asked us. “Need to be careful. Got the truck up on this here jack. You see?” He pointed to a thin metal rod held in place by a half a concrete block on one side and an rusted iron anvil on the other. “Playing around here, you might hit it and send this whole truck down. You don’t want that do ya?” he asked.

We said, no, we didn’t want that.

“Well run along now,” he said. “Go play.”

+++

Momma had most of Daddy’s underpants hanging on the line and was just starting on little brother’s. She was whistling Pop Goes the Weasel and reaching into a bag her Momma had made from an old pair of blue jeans to pull out a clothespin. We joined in with her whistling as we ran around her in a circle, dancing beneath underclothes and when she reached the POP we dropped to the ground giggling.

Momma stopped whistling to scold us. “You see me doing the wash, dontcha?” she said. “Still you come round trying to get more grass stains as if I didn’t have plenty to deal with with your Daddy out there rolling around under that old truck.”

We stood up and danced around some more trying to get her to start up whistling again, but we could tell she was through.

+++

In the kitchen Granny was putting jars into a large pot of boiling water set atop the stove. She jumped when we threw the door open and came running inside.

"Lord!" she said, catching her breath, "you done shook me good. Be careful, now. Can't you see I'm canning? This water is HOT and a kitchen ain't no place for playing around, you hear?"

We said we were thirsty and came in for a drink. We said we'd behave and wouldn't be any trouble.

She said, "Well, listen, you get a drink'a'water and then get on back outside. Children ought to be outside on a day like today anyway. Here take this and drink it." She handed big sister a tall plastic cup filled with water.

Big sister took a big gulp and passed the cup around until we'd all had our share, then we set the cup on the kitchen table and headed back outside to find some place to play.

+++

Big brother said we should go up to the field. So we did.

The field was Mr. Snopes’ land. It sat behind our property past a row of trees and a rusted barb-wire fence. Snopes, Daddy said, was an old such’n’such who was as tight with his money as they come. Daddy said, he’d come into the AutoShop where Daddy worked all the time wanting one of them to fix his truck for free.

His field was a good place for playing, though. It was big and flat for the most part and had a big tree stump right in the middle that was wide and round and good for all kinds of pretending.

Big sister sat down behind the stump and said it was the check-out counter at her grocery store and the rest of us had better buy something or get out. There wasn’t any loitering in big sister’s store.

Little sister jumped right in and starting picking dandelions, she said, to make poke salad with for supper. Little sister hopped around the tree stump from dandelion to dandelion looking for only the very, very best - even passing up some the rest of us thought were perfectly good. She said, though, that she had the most wonderful family and only the best would do for them. With every one she picked big sister took a note with her finger on a flat piece of bark that was her ledger. She took care to count each and every one. After nine or ten, she said, whew, little sister must have a big family to feed or else she must be made’a money. To that little sister said, no, she just loved ‘em that much that she wanted them to be happy.

Just then big brother came running in holding a bent stick in his hand hollering that this was a stick-up and everybody needed to hand over their cash. We all yelled and threw our hands up in the air. Big brother had taken off his shirt and tied it into a money sack. He went around to each of us and we pulled up a hand full of grass and put it in his sack. He was nice about it though and said, thank you for your generosity in these hard times.

After that we all went to hunt butterflies in the flower bushes growing at the edge of the field by the treeline. We'd watch, being very still, as a butterfly would float down onto a flower bud, then one of us would holler and jump toward it. The butterfly, knowing nothing of us, would just flutter away without even thinking anything happened. Then we'd setup to do it again. Once in a while we caught one too.

+++

We were sitting high up in our tree when we saw little brother running across the Snopes’ field toward us, his shortened hair stuck to his head with sweat. Things seemed normal enough at first. We all thought he’d finally gotten away from Aunt Sara and was on the run for it. One of us kidded that Aunt Sara would give him a switchin' when she finally caught him. We all laughed a little at that. We knew it was true.

But when little brother got close we heard him yelling, Granny! Granny! and could tell something was wrong about the way he did it, so we jumped down from the tree and ran to meet him.

+++

Daddy said in Granny’s day they’d have the body set up in the house for folks to come by and pay their respects, but in today’s world we had to go to the funeral home. Momma said she wouldn’t have a dead body in her living room for nothing, but then she told us not to tell Daddy that since Granny was his Momma and she didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was.

+++

The next day we all dressed up in our Sunday clothes and squeezed into the back seat as best we could. Momma and Daddy were still in the house. Momma was helping Daddy with his tie. The younger of us took to asking questions about Granny. What happened to her? Where was she? When was she coming back? The older of us tried to explain things. Granny wasn't coming back. She was with Jesus in heaven. She had a big, golden house with many rooms and was singing with the angels, praising God, all the time. It was her reward.

+++

We could all see how sad Daddy was and we worked hard to behave every day at the funeral home. We sat still and didn’t run around too much. Even when our cousins came and wanted to go play hide-and-seek we said, no, we’d better not, Daddy didn’t like it when we got too loud. Little sister did spill some grape juice on her dress, but Daddy never pays much attention to things like that, so it was okay. Momma even told us later how good we’d been. She sounded a little surprised when she said it.

+++

At the funeral it was us who were surprised when we saw Daddy crying. The preacher was talking about the wicked and the blessed and how Granny had surely been one of the blessed when all of a sudden we turned and saw Daddy. His face was all twisted up and redder than usual and wet. His crying made a sound big brother said was like an old dog. We'd never seen anything like it and we all remembered how mad he got when we cried, so for a while we didn't know what to think. But then little sister and brother started crying too and before long we all joined in and forgot all about Daddy.

+++

That was the last summer we all slept in the same bed. That fall Momma decided we needed to have separate bedrooms for the boys and the girls so she made Daddy finish panelling and carpeting the back half of the garage and put up some doors for privacy so the boys could move in there. But that night, after seeing Granny put in the ground, we were all still together in our big double bed with the iron frame and we stayed awake longer than usual.

Big sister told us how she’d never want to be put in a box like Granny, but big brother said that was silly because when you’re dead, you don’t mind much where you’re put. He told us that he’d touched Granny’s hand when they’d her set up for people to say goodbye and it had felt really strange, like a stone pulled out of a creek bottom. Little brother told how he’d seen Granny in his dream the night before and little sister said she had too. They both said Granny had been swinging in her old porch swing and singing old songs. Big sister said it was going to be very different now that Granny was gone and we wouldn’t get to see her any more. We agreed it would be.

After that we took turns saying our prayers. We prayed for Momma and Daddy and for Aunt Sara and, even though big brother said we didn't need to any more, we prayed for Granny. Then we said our good nights and our sweet dreams and settled in to get comfortable. Some of us went to sleep quicker than others, but it wasn't long before we were all out for the night.

An Ordinary Ostrich

Marty was an ordinary ostrich. An ordinary ostrich with an extraordinary dream. A dream that kept him from eating. A dream that kept him awake at night even as the other ostriches stood, sleeping around him. A dream so intense that he could hardly concentrate on chasing children who happened by and stealing the buttons off their jeans.

His dream? A hat.

Madness, he knew. How could he, an ostrich with no job and no trust fund, ever get a hat?

For a while he tried standing under a low tree branch and letting a leaf rest atop his head, but that only made things worse. The longing wasn't simply for anything to be up there. The yearning he felt was for a hat.

Then, finally, after days of dreaming, it happened. A hat, carried by the wind, perhaps a gift of some new god, literally landed at his feet.

It was a red baseball cap and it was beautiful. The hat was such an amazing sight that for a while Marty just stared at it in awe and disbelief. Then he reached down and grabbed it with his beak. He held it there and stood erect in triumph. A hat. Finally, a hat. It was really happening.

It was then he realized he had no way to get it from his mouth to his head.

Hospice

The old woman points to the box and I oblige, wondering if we have anything to talk about.

She takes a tissue and lays the box upon a fold in the blanket just below her breasts.

She says she goes through so many boxes. She says they should buy in bulk. But, that’s not, she says, really her business.

The television flashes behind me. A basketball game. Muted. Vague movement in maroon and white flitter and dance, reflect in my glasses’ lens.

She coughs and spits into the tissue.

She asks why I come and I go through the story. The same story seems to never grow old. Talking about myself, I’ve found, is easy. Up to a point.

Louis should be here soon, she says.

Louis, I gather, is her son.

I say the flowers by the window are beautiful. Pink. Yes, she says, they are.

I point out the pictures tapped to the wall above her bed. Young, smiling people mostly. Grandchildren or great-grandchildren. I don’t ask.

She looks toward the pictures, but says nothing about them.

Beautiful day, I say, looking out the window into the courtyard beyond. A short, middle-aged woman in pink, loose-fitting pants and a white, collared shirt is pacing in a small circle talking on a cell phone.

Yes, she says, it is.

Do you need anything, I ask.

No, we’re doing alright, she says.

That’s good, I say. Good.

A commercial on television now. A young family enjoying themselves at a theme park. They all laugh and point as dad gets splashed with water.

She’s still holding the used tissue, so I offer and she hands it over. I look around for a trashcan to toss it in.

Voices from the hall seep into the room. Female. A friendly argument over which singer was the best the other night. That one’s cute, but that other one sure could sing, couldn’t he? Yes, it’s agreed. I wonder if it bothers the families to hear this kind of easy talk. I’ve never noticed it trouble the patients. Ordinariness, I think, can be comforting. Also, difficulty hearing is common.

Louis is coming soon, she says.

I should go on now, I say. Is there anything I can do before I go? Would you like me to turn the sound back on the television?

Oh, no, she says. We’re fine. We’re doing fine.

Okay, I say as I rise, lift the chair, and carry it back to the small table where I’d found it.

Thank you for visiting with me, I say, and turn toward the door.

Thank you, she calls. Thank you. Come back again.

Okay, I say. I’ll try. I usually come on Sundays.

I stop at the dispenser for a pump of sanitizer and, rubbing my hands together, walk into the hall.

Estate

When the Great King knew his time was nearing an end he called his three sons to his bedside.

“Sons, as I love each of you deeply I have chosen to divide my kingdom amongst you all.”

“First, “ he began, “to you, my eldest, as you are strong and brave, I grant to you control of my military. The troops, the great ships and the armaments are now yours to command.”

With that the eldest son bowed and left well pleased with what he had been given.

“Next, to you, my youngest, as you have shown both wisdom and compassion, I grant to you the rule of the people.”

And, with that the youngest son bowed and left well pleased with what he had been given.

“And now, to you, my middle son. To you I grant the management of my wealth. The purse of the kingdom is yours.”

And, with that the middle son smiled, grasped the old man's hand and asked, “Oh, Father, why did you bother giving my brothers anything at all?”

Koan Prayer

Life found God sitting quietly beneath a large tree by the side of the water.

“What are you doing?” asked Life.

“Praying,” replied God.

Life was surprised, and said, “But you are God. Unto whom do you pray?”

“Unto Humanity,” replied God.

“Humanity.“ Life repeated solemnly. “And for what do you pray?” asked Life.

“I pray, “ replied God, “for Humanity to allow that the world turn from what it is to what it ought to be.”

Then God turned from Life and looked out across the water. “Sometimes, “ God said, “I find it a hard prayer. Sometimes, I wonder if Humanity is even there.”

With that Life sat beside God and together they prayed.

Fair Weather Could Be Better Than This

Mother always said, keep your enemies close but your friends closer. She was a big believer in friendship though I don’t think she ever had very many of her own, not for very long anyway. She always said that if I had a true friend, I would want for nothing.

I had a few friends in grade school. I remember them. But we sort of drifted apart as we got older and moved into junior-high and high schools where the competition for good friends was tougher. Mother was there for me though. Maybe we were friends, but I don’t like to think of it that way.

Mother was in her mid forties when I was born and started drawing social security by the time I was grown. She always said that our time together on this old world might be short, but we’d sure make of it what there was to make. And we had some good times. We did our best.

When I was 12 mother took up with a truck driver named Rufus. He was a long-haul trucker in his sixties and was only in town for four or five days a month. Mother would leave me with a tv dinner and go off with him for the evening. She said they went dancing, but I remember seeing mother dance at her niece’s wedding once, and I hate to say it, but I don’t think dancing was her thing.

Rufus kept coming by for seven months then stopped. The brakes failed on his truck late one night while taking a turn outside Silver Plume, Colorado. Mother said he never had a chance. Those weeks after Rufus were a dark time for mother. That’s when she started saying that line about keeping friends close. I never knew my father, so Rufus was the first man I ever saw her lose. Dark time.

But mother bounced back. Being so young, I didn’t realize right away that once she’d had a taste of the company of a man, she wouldn’t want to go back to the way things had been before. But I learned pretty quickly. It was only a few months later that Carl started coming around.

Carl was a retired elementary school teacher and didn’t know how to talk to me at all. He only seemed to understand little kids. I was 13, but he treated me like I was eight. One time he bought me a coloring book.

Carl’s heart gave out one night when mother was staying over at his house. She called me after midnight to tell me she’d be coming home and I should unlock the padlock on the front door.

Kevin didn’t last long. A week was all. Mother never did say what happened to him, but she did make me dress nice for his funeral.

After that there was a long spell where it was just the two of us again. Those were good times, but I know mother wasn’t happy. She loved me, no doubt, but part of her really needed a friend.

Roderick was a surprise. He was the first black person I’d ever spent much time with and I think he was my favorite of all mother’s friends. Once he took me to a minor league baseball game. Just the two of us. I really didn’t think it would be my kind of thing, but it turned out we had a great time. He bought me a hot dog and even let me take a sip of his beer. Later, I made the mistake of telling mother about the beer and she yelled at both of us. When mother sent me into the back room, I heard her tell him how our family had a bad history with drinking. He said he was sorry and they made up.

Roderick was killed a few weeks later by a police officer in a mixup over a gas station robbery. Mother said he was just standing there and wasn’t robbing anybody, and I believed her. I still do.

Chester was nearly 70 but in good shape. He had a granddaughter about my age. She went to my school, so I’d seen her around. She was one of the popular girls and I remember thinking that this was a good friendship opportunity for me. But, sadly, it didn’t work out that way. Before mother and her grandfather got together she didn’t know who I was. After, she ignored me on purpose.

I think mother blamed herself when Chester was eaten by that lion. This was on an outing to the zoo. I’d never been and was very excited to see the monkeys, but mother wanted to see the big cats right away, so I never did get my chance. I remember thinking, as the police took us home, that I could try again when we went back for the car, but mother said she’d never set foot in that zoo again. And she was, as usual, true to her word.

I think it’s fair to say mother went into a real funk after that. She spent the next week in her room with the lights off and the drapes drawn. It was a dark time. She only came out to use the john. I made chicken soup for her every day, but she only ever ate the crackers.

After a while she did come out and try to get on with her life, but I don’t think she ever got over what happened.

I graduated with my G.E.D. at 19 and mother told me that very day I should move out. Luckily I’d been working. Summers at the car wash, plus sweeping up at the beauty salon all year round. Having no one or nothing to spend my money on I’d put away enough to rent a room in one of the neighborhoods near the mall. I know mother hadn’t meant to be mean when she kicked me out, but I couldn’t help but feel bad anyway. Like I said before mother was pretty much all I had and I was pretty much all she had. I think now that might be why she wanted me to move out.

About a month after I left home, mother was hit by a drunk driver. She was walking across the road and I guess the guy didn’t see her. They said he was just over the legal limit for driving, but just over was enough to put him away for a few years. It’s hard to blame him too much though. In her day mother had driven much drunker than that.

Somehow making friends got a little bit easier for me after mother was gone. I’ve had a few that I can look back on and really smile.

The first, Leslie, I met in the mall parking lot. I didn’t really know how to act at first, but after a while we got along pretty well. Leslie fell from the roof of an apartment building.

Next came Morgan, who was truly a wonderful person, and choked on a fish bone.

Then, Pat. Drown when swimming in the public pool.

The last is Jamie. We’ve known each other for three months now and are still good friends.

Like I said the main thing mother taught me was to keep my friends close. She said that thing about enemies too, but I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those, so it never stuck with me too much. Honestly, and I never did ask mother about this, but I don’t think I ever understood why I’d want to have an enemy around at all.

Calling All Heroes

The little man sat in a folding chair that had been brought in from the back room. He was in his late 40s with slightly thinning, gray-brown hair, and wore a pink and white vertically striped - worn, but clean - collared shirt, brown cotton pants and a pair of high-top sneakers with the name “Voit” stitched across the tongue. The blue and red rotating lights of the police cruisers parked by the gas pumps shown through the store windows and reflected off his glasses as they spoke.

“Okay, tell me, Mr. Jenkins, what happened,” the female officer asked him.

Jenkins looked up at her, his lip began to quiver and he looked away. “The gun,” he said. “It- it didn’t go off. I watched him. I tell ya, he pointed the gun right at Burt’s face and he pulled that trigger.... I heard the click. But it didn’t go off.”

The officer stood by him taking notes. “Did you see the suspect enter the store?”

“Huh?” Jenkins stuttered. “Oh, no. I was in the back. Burt was behind the counter when he came in. I came out when I heard Burt-” He broke off and wiped his brow with the moist tissue clutched in his hand.

“Was anyone else in the store, sir?” the officer asked.

“No- no, it’s been a slow night,” he said, lowering the tissue and looked up at her. “Some kids were in a little while ago, but they’d gone.” Jenkins shook his head. “I’m glad they weren’t in here when all this happened.”

“Yes, sir. Please continue.”

“Okay. Well I was- I was in the back, like I said, and I heard Burt yell...and...uh... Hey, where is Burt?”

“Mr. Perry was taken to St. Louise,” the office said still jotting in her notepad. When Jenkins was silent for a moment, she looked over to him. “His jaw got a little banged up, but he should be fine.”

“Oh, that’s good.... Yes, I remember that now,” Jenkins said.

“Now, Mr Jenkins, can you tell me what you were doing in the back?”

Jenkins fidgeted in the chair for a moment, then looked at the officer’s belt. “Oh, I was- I was using the facilities, ma’am. I had just... I had just finished when I heard Burt shout.”

“Do you recall what Mr Perry said?”

“Uh, yes, I do. It’s a little- See Burt tends to use...colorful language.”

Once again the office stopped writing and looked down at Jenkins. “It’s quite alright, sir, if there ever was a time for colorful language this is it.”

“Oh... I suppose so. I suppose so,” Jenkins said. “Yes. Well he said, fu-. He said, ‘F you, buddy. You get outta here before I call the cops.’”

“Go on.”

“Well that’s when I came out.” He pointed behind the officer to a short hall beside the drink coolers in the back of the store. “I could see the guy’s back and Burt over his shoulder. I guess I must’ve made a sound or something, ‘cause the guy turned and saw me. That’s when he- Ahh...gosh...I tell ya... Do you have to deal with this stuff every day?”

The officer glanced out the window. The suspect was in the patrol car and she could see another officer interviewing a group of kids out in the parking lot. “Some days are better than others, sir. Please continue.”

“Ah... Well, I had made a sound and this guy noticed me. That’s when he pulled the gun on Burt. He yelled that I’d better get up there or he’d shoot. So, what else could I do? I walked up there. He told me to stand over there by the beef jerky.” Jenkins pointed to a red cardboard display near the small opening that led to the back of the counter. “I did what he said. Then he turned back to Burt. I tell ya, he had the gun right in Burt’s face. He said, ‘Open-’ He said all this really slow. I don’t know if that matters, but it was real slow. He said, ‘Open the register and give me the money.’ Just like that. And Burt... Burt just said, ‘F you,’ again. That’s when-” Jenkins swallowed and shook his head from side to side. “That’s when he pulled the trigger.”

Jenkins sat quietly as the officer wrote. After a few seconds of silence his leg began to shake. He rested his hand on his knee to still it, but was unsuccessful.

When the officer was finished writing, Jenkins continued. “Well, like I said before, the gun didn’t go off, and Burt- Burt didn’t miss a beat, I tell ya. He just reached over the counter and grabbed the guy. I thought he was about to drag him over, but he just held onto him and called for me.” Jenkins nodded his head. “You know, I tell ya, I never thought anything like this would happen. I mean, I know gas stations get robbed sometimes, but this is a pretty good neighborhood and there’s always two of us in the store. Henry - he's the owner - Henry may not be the best boss I ever had, but he’s always been set on having two people at all times. I’ll give him that.

“So when Burt called my name, I came over. I tell ya, I didn’t know quite what to do, but I could see the guy kinda squirming and it looked like Burt might be losing him. So I sorta grabbed him from behind. I reached around him and kinda locked my hands together.” Jenkins demonstrated by forming a loop with his arms and gripping his left wrist with his right hand. “So I had him like this and Burt came around and we both pulled him back up-right.

“And he was cussing and yelling at us and saying I don’t know what, but mostly he was trying to get loose from me. But I wouldn't let him go. I had a real good hold on him. I tell ya, it wasn't easy with him wiggling and moving like he was, but I kept on him. It was something. I'll tell ya, I never thought I'd be in a situation like that. No, si- No, ma'am. I never thought I would. I wasn't exactly a jock in high school, you know. I guess I can tell ya I'd never even been in a fight until tonight. I mean, I got into scuffs with my cousin, Barry. when we were kids, but nothing like a real fight... I never thought I'd be in a situation like that."

The officer had ceased writing in her notebook and was looking around the store. A few moments after Jenkins stopped talking, she looked down at him. His leg had stopped shaking. He sat there, expectantly, still, staring up at her, a slight smile on his face. "You did very well, sir," she said. "You were very brave."

"Oh, well," Jenkins said, his face turning a bright red. "I guess it wasn't much, but it sure was something. I tell ya-" Jenkins paused to cough quickly into is open hand. "Anyway, I had ahold of this guy - the robber - and he was trying to get loose. He swung his arms around and... That was when he got Burt, I think. Must've got him pretty good, too, but I guess it just made Burt mad, and he rared back and punched the guy right in the face.” Jenkins’ smile was large now. He laughed. “Yeah, I tell ya, Burt hit him so hard that his head came back and almost got me. But I dodged it just in time.”

The officer had resumed writing. "And at that point the suspect became unconscious. Is that correct, Mr. Jenkins?" she asked.

"Uhm, yeah," Jenkins said. "Yeah, he went limp and kinda fell outta my arms. You know, just occurred to me- I'm glad he wasn't faking, you know? That would've been pretty clever. Would'a worked too," he said, looking down. His smile fading. He looked out the window to the parking lot and the man in back of the police cruiser. His leg began to shake again.

“Did anyone call Henry,” he asked, suddenly jerking his head away from the window.

The officer stopped writing and flipped back a page in her notepad. “Yes, sir, Mr. Fletcher has been notified. I believe he’s on his way.”

“Good. I bet. Yeah. He’ll want to check the store.” Jenkins looked around him, biting his lower lip. Except for a few packs of gum strewn across the counter, the police woman standing over him and the others in the parking lot there was no sign of the evening’s excitement.

“Ma’am,” he said. He twisted himself around in the folding chair, gripped the backrest and pushed himself up to a standing position. "I mean, Officer. That’s pretty much all I have to say. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No,” she said taking a last look over her notes, “I believe we have everything. We’ll be calling you downtown tomorrow for a line-up.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess- Okay. Sure. So I can go home now?” he asked. “I’m pretty tired all of a sudden.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like someone to take you?”

“Oh, no. No. I don’t live far,” he said. He stepped past the officer to the door. He stood by for a moment without opening it, then turned for another look around the store, then to the window and out into the parking lot, and, finally, back to the officer. “Ma’am, could you do something for me?”

The officer, having completed her interview, was surveying the scene. At his question, she stiffened slightly and turned toward him. “Yes, sir. What do you need?”

“When Henry gets here,” Jenkins said opening the door, “would you please tell him I quit?”