Shine Bright (Part Eight)
Part Eight: Christmas Baking
The two had no sooner finished their soup than a loud knock was heard at the entrance way to the kitchen.
"Just dropping off some Christmas baking," one of the neighbours said, as she surveyed the warm kitchen. "Your mom wanted me to check and make sure that you two were ok. So I just popped in for a minute. These are especially for you." She handed them to Mandy's grandmother, who seemed totally surprised by her kindness.
The neighbour left as soon as she knew that Mandy and her grandmother seemed to be enjoying dinner together.
"My turkey dressing is on the stove. I really feel like a heel for not staying, but I just can't," she explained as she headed for the door. "I will drop by another day," she promised.
"Thanks for the Christmas baking," Mandy said, as she held the door for the neighbour. "It is really appreciated, as my mom does not get much of a chance to bake very often. We will save some for her."
A moment later, her grandmother left the table to answer the front door. Doris was standing there with Hannah.
"Nothing like perfect timing, " Mandy heard her say. "Now we can all go get a tree together. We cannot have Christmas without a tree. That would never do."
Hannah and Mandy both laughed, as Mandy suggested that they would make some popcorn and hot chocolate later on too.
Hannah pulled Mandy into the kitchen and handed her a grocery bag. "I found this," she said.
Mandy just about broke into tears of joy, as she looked in the bag. Hannah had brought her an angel for the top of the tree. "Save it for later," she whispered. "I could not find a star but you can use this for the top of the tree."
"It is absolutely beautiful," replied Mandy. "I just realized that I don't have wrapping paper for the cookbook either."
"We'll figure something out," Hannah promised, knowing that Mandy was doing her best to give her grandmother a gift and to celebrate Christmas together.
"Grab your coats, girls," her grandmother said. "We don't have a lot of time to waste and it is getting very cold out there. The sooner we go, the sooner we will get back. All of you will have to help me carry the tree home."
Mandy knew that it was time to tell her grandmother what they had already done about the Christmas tree.
"Gran, want to see how big the room is?" she asked, holding the grocery bag behind her back.
"Probably a good idea," agreed Hannah, smiling innocently.
"Sure," said Doris. "It will just take a moment." She looked at the girls curiously, wondering what they were up to, as the expressions on their faces gave them away. Looking down, she spotted a tiny spruce needle on the floor.
"Is this what I think this is? Oh, I see, you two have....." she started to say.
"Sh..." cautioned Mandy. "Don't spoil the surprise."
As everyone else entered the family room, Mandy hung back, waiting for the right moment to put the light on in the family room. She could still see a faint glimmer reflected in the ornaments on the tree. Even in the dark, it looked very pretty.
She flicked the switch and was totally astounded at the expression of utter amazement that she saw on her grandmother's face.
"Well, I'll be...." she said, as the lights in the room went on.
When Mandy turned on the light switch, it also put the tree lights on.
"We already have a tree and it is decorated too. Now when did you girls do that? This afternoon? You said that you did not have a tree when I first arrived."
Mandy's grandmother reached over and gave her a warm hug.
"It is absolutely beautiful!" she said. "So that is what you two were up to today. It is just beautiful! And you are the most wonderful grand-daughter in the whole world. You are the most wonderful grand-daughter's friend in the world too," she said, giving Hannah a hug.
Then she hugged Doris. "I have heard so many good things about you from my son and daughter-in-law."
"Merry Christmas, Gran," Mandy said with tears in her eyes. "We all love you."
"Merry Christmas," Hannah said just a second or two later.
"Merry Christmas," Doris echoed.
"And a Happy New Year to you all," replied Mandy's grandmother. "This is going to be the best Christmas of all," she said.
"Gran," said Mandy a few moments later. "Would you put our star up on the tree, please. A Christmas tree has to have a star. That is what Christmas is all about, a Star named baby Jesus, who taught the real meaning of love. We could not find a star that looked like a star.....Hannah brought this angel......" She pulled it out of the bag and handed it to her grandmother.
"Perfect.......shine bright," Mandy's grandmother said first to the star and then to the girls, as she stood on the ladder to hang the angel on the top of the tree.
"We will shine like angels," Doris promised on behalf of the girls.
"Like angels in the sky......" Mandy continued. "Now let's get some hot chocolate and popcorn and make this into a real Christmas celebration."
"Oh my," Mandy's grandmother said suddenly, as she lost her balance, and the ladder she was standing on, tipped to one side. All of the girls rushed to grab the ladder, before it fell. Mandy's grandmother grabbed a tree branch to catch her balance. Several ornaments tumbled to the floor, bouncing on the rug as they fell. One of them landed in the spot on the floor where the flower pot had fallen earlier.
"Oh, am I ever clutsy," Grandma said, as the quick thinking girls grabbed the ladder, and held it for her while she climbed down. She was very relieved that she had not taken a tumble. "No harm done. I did knock some Christmas ornaments off the tree ," she said apologetically.
She was really quite embarrassed at her clumsiness.
"I think I am all right. I should have been more careful. I could have broken my neck."
"I am just like my Grandma," Mandy told Hannah later, as they cleaned up the mess they had made in the kitchen. They were stringing some popcorn for the tree.
Doris was sitting in the family room with Mandy's grandmother. Both laughed heartily as Mandy said, "I am just as clutsy as she is."
"That's for sure," Hannah agreed.
Even Doris laughed, as she knew only too well how much of a problem Mandy had. She was forever tripping over something, dropping things or knocking something over.
Later, they told Grandma about Mandy being really clutsy too and she burst out laughing.
"Well, you had to inherit something from your old Gran," she said to Mandy. She wiped away the tears of laughter, relieved that the ice had been broken with all three of 'her' girls.
At that moment, Mandy knew that this was going to be her best Christmas ever. And it was.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Shine Bright (Part Seven)
Shine Bright (Part Seven)
Part Seven: Where are you
"Where were you, Grandma?" Mandy asked her grandmother a bit later when she returned home. "It is getting very cold out there and I was beginning to wonder if you were ok."
"I am just fine," her grandmother quickly reassured her. "I was just running some errands and visiting some old friends in the nursing home. Remember, I grew up here. I have not seen any of these people for many, many years. It was so wonderful just to see them again. We had such a good time. And young lady, may I ask how your trip to the bookstore went? And where is your little friend?"
"She's not that little," Mandy said. "She's eleven too, just like me. She had to go home for supper, Gran, and we had a really great day. Thank you for asking," Mandy replied.
She was not about to tell her about the problems that they had encountered that day, or that they did not have a star for the tree.
"Now let's have a quick bite to eat, a bowl of soup or something, and then you and I are going out to get a Christmas tree. Let's head for the kitchen. Do you like tomato soup?"
"Sure, tomato soup sounds great, Gran. There are crackers in the cupboard too," Mandy replied, wondering where she had left the cook book that she had just bought for her grandmother.
"Must be in the family room," she thought to herself. "I have to run and hide the cook book before Gran finds it. I want to wrap it up for her first, before I give it to her."
"Grandma, I am going to right back," she hollered, as she quickly headed downstairs to the family room. "I have to do something first."
She picked up the bag with the cookbook in it and hid it in one of the cupboards, knocking over a small cactus plant, as she hurried to hide it.
"Dumbo," she chided herself. "I'll have to clean that up later," she said, as she brushed away most of the dirt and stood the plant back up.
Mandy looked at the tree that they had put up, in utter amazement. It seemed to be just about perfect, except for the missing star. The top seemed so bare. The ornaments shone in the glow of street lights coming through the window, as night approached.
Hannah had decided that she was coming back after supper. They had agreed not to put the tree lights on until later that evening, when Mandy's grandmother and Doris were going to be there with them.
"Almost perfect," said Mandy, as she closed the door and headed for the kitchen. She could smell the aroma of fresh soup on the stove. "Glad I got to that cookbook in time."
"Come and set the table for me, sweetie," her grandmother said, as Mandy entered the kitchen.
"I always hate setting the table," Mandy said to herself. "Sure, I can do that for you," she said to her grandmother. "Those were really good cookies today. Thank you ever so much for making those for us."
"You are welcome dear, now tell me about your day. You know something, your dad always loved that kind of gingerbread cookies."
"Gran, can you tell me about my dad when he was a kid, like me? Or about some of your Christmases when you were my age? I would really like to know."
"I will tell you what," her grandmother replied, as she put hot tomato soup into two bowls, one for her grand daughter and the other for herself. "I will tell you anything you want to know. But let's have soup first and then when we are putting up the tree, we will tell stories to each other.
Would that work for you?"
"Sure will," answered Mandy. She was not about to tell her grandmother that the tree was already up and decorated but without a star. "Stories," she said to herself, "That is one way to break the ice."
Part Seven: Where are you
"Where were you, Grandma?" Mandy asked her grandmother a bit later when she returned home. "It is getting very cold out there and I was beginning to wonder if you were ok."
"I am just fine," her grandmother quickly reassured her. "I was just running some errands and visiting some old friends in the nursing home. Remember, I grew up here. I have not seen any of these people for many, many years. It was so wonderful just to see them again. We had such a good time. And young lady, may I ask how your trip to the bookstore went? And where is your little friend?"
"She's not that little," Mandy said. "She's eleven too, just like me. She had to go home for supper, Gran, and we had a really great day. Thank you for asking," Mandy replied.
She was not about to tell her about the problems that they had encountered that day, or that they did not have a star for the tree.
"Now let's have a quick bite to eat, a bowl of soup or something, and then you and I are going out to get a Christmas tree. Let's head for the kitchen. Do you like tomato soup?"
"Sure, tomato soup sounds great, Gran. There are crackers in the cupboard too," Mandy replied, wondering where she had left the cook book that she had just bought for her grandmother.
"Must be in the family room," she thought to herself. "I have to run and hide the cook book before Gran finds it. I want to wrap it up for her first, before I give it to her."
"Grandma, I am going to right back," she hollered, as she quickly headed downstairs to the family room. "I have to do something first."
She picked up the bag with the cookbook in it and hid it in one of the cupboards, knocking over a small cactus plant, as she hurried to hide it.
"Dumbo," she chided herself. "I'll have to clean that up later," she said, as she brushed away most of the dirt and stood the plant back up.
Mandy looked at the tree that they had put up, in utter amazement. It seemed to be just about perfect, except for the missing star. The top seemed so bare. The ornaments shone in the glow of street lights coming through the window, as night approached.
Hannah had decided that she was coming back after supper. They had agreed not to put the tree lights on until later that evening, when Mandy's grandmother and Doris were going to be there with them.
"Almost perfect," said Mandy, as she closed the door and headed for the kitchen. She could smell the aroma of fresh soup on the stove. "Glad I got to that cookbook in time."
"Come and set the table for me, sweetie," her grandmother said, as Mandy entered the kitchen.
"I always hate setting the table," Mandy said to herself. "Sure, I can do that for you," she said to her grandmother. "Those were really good cookies today. Thank you ever so much for making those for us."
"You are welcome dear, now tell me about your day. You know something, your dad always loved that kind of gingerbread cookies."
"Gran, can you tell me about my dad when he was a kid, like me? Or about some of your Christmases when you were my age? I would really like to know."
"I will tell you what," her grandmother replied, as she put hot tomato soup into two bowls, one for her grand daughter and the other for herself. "I will tell you anything you want to know. But let's have soup first and then when we are putting up the tree, we will tell stories to each other.
Would that work for you?"
"Sure will," answered Mandy. She was not about to tell her grandmother that the tree was already up and decorated but without a star. "Stories," she said to herself, "That is one way to break the ice."
Shine Bright (Part Six)
Shine Bright (Part Six)
Part Six: Not enough money
"You young ladies will have to hurry," the store owner said, as he watched them load up a basket of Christmas tree ornaments and other decorations. "Seventeen dollars," he said firmly, as he stood there waiting for them count out their change. "That is what this comes to."
"We don't have enough money. Eight dollars?" Mandy asked sadly. "We are going to have to put some of this back."
She looked at the basket, trying to decide what to return to the shelves. "I should not have bought that cook book for my gran," she thought. "If I had not spent that money, I would have enough money to decorate the tree."
"By the way, just so you know....." the store owner said, "Everything that you have in your basket is going on half price tonight, so I will give it all to you for half price right now. We are closing very shortly anyhow."
He quickly tallied up the total for them.
"Eight dollars and no tax," he said, smiling at them. "And you both have a blessed and a happy Christmas. Wish your dad and mom a Merry Christmas for me too."
The girls could scarcely believe what had just happened and smiled happily at him, as they left the store with a huge bag of decorations. The store owner had even tossed in a huge red candy cane for each of them.
"Thank you!" they hollered as they went back out into the cold. "Merry Christmas to you too!"
They did not stop to explain that Mandy's parents had gone to Jamaica and had left her with a virtual stranger for the holidays.
"Oh no, we don't have a star to put on the top of the tree," Mandy realized, as they trudged homeward. "We should have bought a star too. We were not very smart."
"We'll figure something out," Hannah reassured her, as they walked on. The temperature was dropping rapidly and it was getting much too cold to be outside, as the wind was picking up too.
"I think we might just have a white Christmas after all."
Hannah was generally very upbeat and fun to be with, as nothing ever seemed to be too difficult for her. No problem ever seemed to be too much for her to solve.
Mandy on the other hand, was easily upset by the smallest things. Not having a star to put on the tree was just the final straw.
"What a crazy day this has been," she confided in Hannah.
"Where is your Gran?" Hannah asked Mandy, as they put their new found treasures on the floor, in front of the tree in the family room, a little while later.
"Doing her granny thing, I expect," replied Mandy, still wondering what to do about the star for the tree. "I guess it is too late now to go back to the store. Besides that, we are both broke too."
They decided that star or no star, the tree that they had brought home and put up, really did look quite good. With the decorations that they had bought, they knew that it would look even better. They quickly decorated the tree together.
"Let's get the mess tidied up before Gran gets back." Hannah said, pulling the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. "I found more presents," she hollered at Mandy. "A whole bunch of them in the closet. Wonder what is in all these other boxes?"
"Those are for Grandma," Mandy hollered back. "You hungry?"
"I have to go home for supper soon," Hannah answered. "But I am going to vacuum up all of the needles first, ok?"
"Great," replied Mandy, laughing as she spoke. "I never did like work, much less vacuuming." she said to herself. "I will get rid of all the boxes."
Part Six: Not enough money
"You young ladies will have to hurry," the store owner said, as he watched them load up a basket of Christmas tree ornaments and other decorations. "Seventeen dollars," he said firmly, as he stood there waiting for them count out their change. "That is what this comes to."
"We don't have enough money. Eight dollars?" Mandy asked sadly. "We are going to have to put some of this back."
She looked at the basket, trying to decide what to return to the shelves. "I should not have bought that cook book for my gran," she thought. "If I had not spent that money, I would have enough money to decorate the tree."
"By the way, just so you know....." the store owner said, "Everything that you have in your basket is going on half price tonight, so I will give it all to you for half price right now. We are closing very shortly anyhow."
He quickly tallied up the total for them.
"Eight dollars and no tax," he said, smiling at them. "And you both have a blessed and a happy Christmas. Wish your dad and mom a Merry Christmas for me too."
The girls could scarcely believe what had just happened and smiled happily at him, as they left the store with a huge bag of decorations. The store owner had even tossed in a huge red candy cane for each of them.
"Thank you!" they hollered as they went back out into the cold. "Merry Christmas to you too!"
They did not stop to explain that Mandy's parents had gone to Jamaica and had left her with a virtual stranger for the holidays.
"Oh no, we don't have a star to put on the top of the tree," Mandy realized, as they trudged homeward. "We should have bought a star too. We were not very smart."
"We'll figure something out," Hannah reassured her, as they walked on. The temperature was dropping rapidly and it was getting much too cold to be outside, as the wind was picking up too.
"I think we might just have a white Christmas after all."
Hannah was generally very upbeat and fun to be with, as nothing ever seemed to be too difficult for her. No problem ever seemed to be too much for her to solve.
Mandy on the other hand, was easily upset by the smallest things. Not having a star to put on the tree was just the final straw.
"What a crazy day this has been," she confided in Hannah.
"Where is your Gran?" Hannah asked Mandy, as they put their new found treasures on the floor, in front of the tree in the family room, a little while later.
"Doing her granny thing, I expect," replied Mandy, still wondering what to do about the star for the tree. "I guess it is too late now to go back to the store. Besides that, we are both broke too."
They decided that star or no star, the tree that they had brought home and put up, really did look quite good. With the decorations that they had bought, they knew that it would look even better. They quickly decorated the tree together.
"Let's get the mess tidied up before Gran gets back." Hannah said, pulling the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. "I found more presents," she hollered at Mandy. "A whole bunch of them in the closet. Wonder what is in all these other boxes?"
"Those are for Grandma," Mandy hollered back. "You hungry?"
"I have to go home for supper soon," Hannah answered. "But I am going to vacuum up all of the needles first, ok?"
"Great," replied Mandy, laughing as she spoke. "I never did like work, much less vacuuming." she said to herself. "I will get rid of all the boxes."
Shine Bright (Part Five)
Shine Bright (Part Five)
Part Five: A great lady
"Your gran sounds like a really great lady," said Hannah, pulling her scarf closer about her face, as they went outside. "That wind is getting really cold. The forecast is for extremely bad weather. Maybe we should go and get a tree earlier today, as it might not be too much fun later on It is probably going to get colder. Let's surprize your gran. I don't really have to go to the bookstore for very long."
"Jamaica is supposed to be really nice this time of year," replied Mandy. "Sure wish I could have gone too," she thought to herself. "Get a tree together, just us? Sounds like a plan," she said aloud to Hannah. "Let's do it. I will buy a present for her at the bookstore too. Think she would like a cookbook?"
"Fresh gingerbread," Mandy said later, as they returned home, dragging a six foot spruce tree.
The smell of fresh gingerbread cookies was unmistakeable. Hannah's mom made cookies for them all the time, but Mandy's mom was far too busy to do any baking. She usually just bought everything.
"Smells great in here," she said, as she walked through the door. Her grandmother was no where to be seen. On the table, there was a big plate of fresh cookies and a note. "Be right back," it read.
"Looks like Grandma has gone out somewhere," Mandy said to Hannah, who was already into the cookies and milk. "These are great! Maybe it won't be so bad having my grandmother here after all!"
"Let's get the tree up before she gets back," Hannah said. "I know where the base is on the wall in the garage, because I was here, when you and your dad put it away last year. We can decorate it too before she gets back here. Know where the rest of the decorations are?"
About half an hour later, the two girls had the tree standing up in the corner of the family room.
"I think this is the most beautiful tree ever," Hannah said. "And just think. You and I did this all by ourselves. I bet you didn't think that two eleven year old girls could do this."
"I think the rest of the decorations are in the attic," replied Mandy, nodding her head. She had totally forgotten that her dad had told her where he put them. The tree looked really great even bare, as it was tall and very straight. The scent from the spruce tree was already radiating through the room. "Come on, let's go find them."
There was a trail of needles all through the house, but those the girls would clean up later. They decided that the most important thing was to find the Christmas decorations.
Together they raced for the attic, with Mandy almost falling back down the stairs.
"You are so clutsy!" Hannah said, catching her just in time. "Be more careful or we will both land on our heads at the foot of the stairs."
They laughed and headed into the dark attic filled with old antiques, books, boxes and several generations of what they considered to be ancient treasures.
"I just love exploring your attic."
"Me too," replied Mandy, waiting for a moment to catch her breath. "This is fun."
"Where do we look first?" she wondered. "I know I put them away with my dad, but those boxes are not here now. I wonder if my dad threw them out by mistake?" Mandy looked all around the room.
She was totally devastated, as the Christmas decorations were no where to be seen.
"They are not here, not even one box," she told Hannah, after she had searched through the room. "Oh no, now we have a Christmas tree and no decorations. That is just great....and just when my Grandma is here for Christmas as well. What next?"
"Do you think your dad and mom put them in the school garage sale?" Hannah asked quietly, realizing that Mandy was getting more and more upset by the minute.
Mandy was fighting back tears.
"This is just the icing on the cake," she said. "Looks like we bought that tree for nothing.....I got a cookbook for my gran though."
"She brought a lot of presents too," said Hannah. "I saw them. We just have to decorate the tree. After buying that book for my dad and that helping you buy that Christmas tree, I now have about three dollars left. Do you think we could get some decorations at the dollar shop with that?"
"I still have five dollars upstairs that I saved," said Mandy. "Let's go get whatever decorations we can with that. But we have to hurry as the store will close in about half an hour. Let's go right now."
The girls headed downstairs quickly, but with Mandy being a lot more careful this time. "The last thing I need is a broken leg," she said. "Wonder where Grandma went?"
Part Five: A great lady
"Your gran sounds like a really great lady," said Hannah, pulling her scarf closer about her face, as they went outside. "That wind is getting really cold. The forecast is for extremely bad weather. Maybe we should go and get a tree earlier today, as it might not be too much fun later on It is probably going to get colder. Let's surprize your gran. I don't really have to go to the bookstore for very long."
"Jamaica is supposed to be really nice this time of year," replied Mandy. "Sure wish I could have gone too," she thought to herself. "Get a tree together, just us? Sounds like a plan," she said aloud to Hannah. "Let's do it. I will buy a present for her at the bookstore too. Think she would like a cookbook?"
"Fresh gingerbread," Mandy said later, as they returned home, dragging a six foot spruce tree.
The smell of fresh gingerbread cookies was unmistakeable. Hannah's mom made cookies for them all the time, but Mandy's mom was far too busy to do any baking. She usually just bought everything.
"Smells great in here," she said, as she walked through the door. Her grandmother was no where to be seen. On the table, there was a big plate of fresh cookies and a note. "Be right back," it read.
"Looks like Grandma has gone out somewhere," Mandy said to Hannah, who was already into the cookies and milk. "These are great! Maybe it won't be so bad having my grandmother here after all!"
"Let's get the tree up before she gets back," Hannah said. "I know where the base is on the wall in the garage, because I was here, when you and your dad put it away last year. We can decorate it too before she gets back here. Know where the rest of the decorations are?"
About half an hour later, the two girls had the tree standing up in the corner of the family room.
"I think this is the most beautiful tree ever," Hannah said. "And just think. You and I did this all by ourselves. I bet you didn't think that two eleven year old girls could do this."
"I think the rest of the decorations are in the attic," replied Mandy, nodding her head. She had totally forgotten that her dad had told her where he put them. The tree looked really great even bare, as it was tall and very straight. The scent from the spruce tree was already radiating through the room. "Come on, let's go find them."
There was a trail of needles all through the house, but those the girls would clean up later. They decided that the most important thing was to find the Christmas decorations.
Together they raced for the attic, with Mandy almost falling back down the stairs.
"You are so clutsy!" Hannah said, catching her just in time. "Be more careful or we will both land on our heads at the foot of the stairs."
They laughed and headed into the dark attic filled with old antiques, books, boxes and several generations of what they considered to be ancient treasures.
"I just love exploring your attic."
"Me too," replied Mandy, waiting for a moment to catch her breath. "This is fun."
"Where do we look first?" she wondered. "I know I put them away with my dad, but those boxes are not here now. I wonder if my dad threw them out by mistake?" Mandy looked all around the room.
She was totally devastated, as the Christmas decorations were no where to be seen.
"They are not here, not even one box," she told Hannah, after she had searched through the room. "Oh no, now we have a Christmas tree and no decorations. That is just great....and just when my Grandma is here for Christmas as well. What next?"
"Do you think your dad and mom put them in the school garage sale?" Hannah asked quietly, realizing that Mandy was getting more and more upset by the minute.
Mandy was fighting back tears.
"This is just the icing on the cake," she said. "Looks like we bought that tree for nothing.....I got a cookbook for my gran though."
"She brought a lot of presents too," said Hannah. "I saw them. We just have to decorate the tree. After buying that book for my dad and that helping you buy that Christmas tree, I now have about three dollars left. Do you think we could get some decorations at the dollar shop with that?"
"I still have five dollars upstairs that I saved," said Mandy. "Let's go get whatever decorations we can with that. But we have to hurry as the store will close in about half an hour. Let's go right now."
The girls headed downstairs quickly, but with Mandy being a lot more careful this time. "The last thing I need is a broken leg," she said. "Wonder where Grandma went?"
Shine Bright (Part Four)
Shine Bright (Part Four)
Part Four: Checking in
"Just checking in to see if your grandma arrived on time," a tall, freckle faced, red haired, young lady said, as Mandy answered the front door. "Your dad and mom get away ok?"
It was Doris at the door. She was a third year university student, who rented the downstairs apartment from Mandy's parents. Mandy nodded and took Doris into the kitchen to meet her grandmother.
Again, she almost tripped on the scatter rug.
Doris only stayed long enough to say hello and then left to go to work at her part time job.
"I will be around later on today if you want to get together," she told Mandy, knowing that Mandy was still upset about being left alone with her grandmother for Christmas. She had confided in Doris as her babysitter for years.
"I told your mom that I would have stayed with you," she explained quietly as she left. "But your dad wanted you to spend time with his mom and have you get to know her. You do understand, right?"
"Yes, but I don't have to like it," Mandy said, being totally honest with Doris. "But I will mind my manners," she promised.
"I have to run. See you later, ok?" Doris gave her a hug.
Her grandmother had not hugged her when she came in, just sent her outside for more boxes.
When she told Doris that, she was amazed when Doris replied, "Well, maybe you ought to give your gran a hug? After all this is as strange for her as it is for you. Right?"
Mandy walked into the kitchen this time, being more careful this time, not to stumble on the scatter rug. "I am going to move that rug," she decided, picking it up and tossing it in the back entrance to the kitchen. "After all, I am the woman of the house now, and I can do what I want, at least until Grandma starts running the show. That probably won't be very long."
The front doorbell rang again and when Mandy opened the door, a huge red and white floral bouquet greeted her. Behind it was a good looking, tall, young man wearing an elf's hat with a red and green outfit. "These are for you," he said, tipping his hat to Mandy after he handed her the arrangement. He turned to go back to his delivery van. "Merry Christmas!."
"Wow!" said Mandy. "Grandma, look at these! They are absolutely gorgeous. And here is a card...."
"To welcome you home," she read. "Sorry we can't be there to meet you, Mom. Have a Merry Christmas. With all of our love, Jeff and Sarah."
"They are not for me," Mandy realized, but was quickly ashamed, as she saw the tears welling up in her grandmother's eyes. Her son and daughter-in-law had sent her flowers as an apology for not being able to be there when she arrived.
"I really don't deserve flowers anyway," Mandy told herself silently. "I was really awful to dad and mom."
"These are for both of us to enjoy," her grandmother said gently, well aware that there were some tensions between Mandy and her parents. "Where shall we put them?"
The doorbell rang again and Mandy raced for the door, thankful that she had been smart enough to move the scatter rug. This time she almost knocked the tea pot off the table in her excitement. She hurried to grab it.
"Hey Mandy, want to go to the bookstore?" Hannah asked, as she opened the door. "I want to get some books for my dad for Christmas." Hannah had also turned eleven that year. "I can't, my gran just got here," explained Mandy. "I have to stay here and take care of her."
"Oh no, you don't, young lady," her grandmother said sternly, looking her straight in the eye.
"Just show me to my room and then I will have a rest, while you do your thing with your friend. I am fine all by myself. Besides which, I need to do some unpacking. We can spend some time together later. We need to make some plans for Christmas too, right?"
Mandy was more than relieved, as she still felt really awkward around her grandmother, as kind and gentle as she was. "You mean I can go Christmas shopping with Hannah? Are you sure?" she asked.
"Dear, I will be just fine by myself for a little while. I am not that old that I need to have a babysitter yet. Just show me my room, please."
Mandy did just that while Hannah surveyed the massive array of presents, boxes and luggage, lined up against the wall. "Your gran planning on staying forever?" she asked quietly, as they headed out the door together a few moments later.
"Maybe, oh who knows?" replied Mandy suddenly finding herself defending her grandmother. "And what's so bad about that if she does? She is my grandmother after all. Other girls have grandmothers who live with them."
"Have fun girls," her grandmother hollered from upstairs. "I'll see you both later! Maybe we can go out and get a Christmas tree then and we will decorate it together. I brought some popcorn. You two can pop it if you like."
Part Four: Checking in
"Just checking in to see if your grandma arrived on time," a tall, freckle faced, red haired, young lady said, as Mandy answered the front door. "Your dad and mom get away ok?"
It was Doris at the door. She was a third year university student, who rented the downstairs apartment from Mandy's parents. Mandy nodded and took Doris into the kitchen to meet her grandmother.
Again, she almost tripped on the scatter rug.
Doris only stayed long enough to say hello and then left to go to work at her part time job.
"I will be around later on today if you want to get together," she told Mandy, knowing that Mandy was still upset about being left alone with her grandmother for Christmas. She had confided in Doris as her babysitter for years.
"I told your mom that I would have stayed with you," she explained quietly as she left. "But your dad wanted you to spend time with his mom and have you get to know her. You do understand, right?"
"Yes, but I don't have to like it," Mandy said, being totally honest with Doris. "But I will mind my manners," she promised.
"I have to run. See you later, ok?" Doris gave her a hug.
Her grandmother had not hugged her when she came in, just sent her outside for more boxes.
When she told Doris that, she was amazed when Doris replied, "Well, maybe you ought to give your gran a hug? After all this is as strange for her as it is for you. Right?"
Mandy walked into the kitchen this time, being more careful this time, not to stumble on the scatter rug. "I am going to move that rug," she decided, picking it up and tossing it in the back entrance to the kitchen. "After all, I am the woman of the house now, and I can do what I want, at least until Grandma starts running the show. That probably won't be very long."
The front doorbell rang again and when Mandy opened the door, a huge red and white floral bouquet greeted her. Behind it was a good looking, tall, young man wearing an elf's hat with a red and green outfit. "These are for you," he said, tipping his hat to Mandy after he handed her the arrangement. He turned to go back to his delivery van. "Merry Christmas!."
"Wow!" said Mandy. "Grandma, look at these! They are absolutely gorgeous. And here is a card...."
"To welcome you home," she read. "Sorry we can't be there to meet you, Mom. Have a Merry Christmas. With all of our love, Jeff and Sarah."
"They are not for me," Mandy realized, but was quickly ashamed, as she saw the tears welling up in her grandmother's eyes. Her son and daughter-in-law had sent her flowers as an apology for not being able to be there when she arrived.
"I really don't deserve flowers anyway," Mandy told herself silently. "I was really awful to dad and mom."
"These are for both of us to enjoy," her grandmother said gently, well aware that there were some tensions between Mandy and her parents. "Where shall we put them?"
The doorbell rang again and Mandy raced for the door, thankful that she had been smart enough to move the scatter rug. This time she almost knocked the tea pot off the table in her excitement. She hurried to grab it.
"Hey Mandy, want to go to the bookstore?" Hannah asked, as she opened the door. "I want to get some books for my dad for Christmas." Hannah had also turned eleven that year. "I can't, my gran just got here," explained Mandy. "I have to stay here and take care of her."
"Oh no, you don't, young lady," her grandmother said sternly, looking her straight in the eye.
"Just show me to my room and then I will have a rest, while you do your thing with your friend. I am fine all by myself. Besides which, I need to do some unpacking. We can spend some time together later. We need to make some plans for Christmas too, right?"
Mandy was more than relieved, as she still felt really awkward around her grandmother, as kind and gentle as she was. "You mean I can go Christmas shopping with Hannah? Are you sure?" she asked.
"Dear, I will be just fine by myself for a little while. I am not that old that I need to have a babysitter yet. Just show me my room, please."
Mandy did just that while Hannah surveyed the massive array of presents, boxes and luggage, lined up against the wall. "Your gran planning on staying forever?" she asked quietly, as they headed out the door together a few moments later.
"Maybe, oh who knows?" replied Mandy suddenly finding herself defending her grandmother. "And what's so bad about that if she does? She is my grandmother after all. Other girls have grandmothers who live with them."
"Have fun girls," her grandmother hollered from upstairs. "I'll see you both later! Maybe we can go out and get a Christmas tree then and we will decorate it together. I brought some popcorn. You two can pop it if you like."
Shine Bright (Part Three)
Shine Bright (Part Three)
Part Three: Those boots are so neat
"Dear, if you would be so kind as to go down by the garage, there are some other boxes there. I told the taxi driver that he could leave them there. Could you bring those in for me too?" her grandmother asked, as she bent down to loosen the laces on her boots.
"Those boots are so neat, Grandma, so modern." said Mandy.
She had expected her grandmother to dress like all grandmothers do, and this was certainly not typical grandmother attire. She looked more like an elderly fashion model.
Mandy did not say anything else, but simply headed out the doorway towards the garage, to bring in the other boxes.
She took a deep breath and could sense that there was some bad weather heading their way.
"Oh no, a storm is coming. I sure hope that dad and mom got away ok."
So far it had been a very dark, damp December. There had not been even a hint of snow.
Everything looked so dreary and dark, except when her dad had put up the Christmas tree lights and turned them on. When he had plugged them in, somehow everything seemed to come alive and glistened mysteriously because of the fog.
"You can put on the Christmas lights, but don't forget to turn them off at night," her dad had told her. Now she was wishing that she had put them on for her grandmother's arrival, even though it was still daylight.
Mandy was quite surprized as she looked at the huge stack of gifts beside the garage door. Every one of the boxes had been gift wrapped just like the others. "Wow!" said Mandy. "I cannot believe this."
She picked up the rest of the presents and carried them to the door. Her grandmother was waiting there and helped her to stack them up against one wall.
"These will have to go under the tree later," her grandmother said. "But let's just get them out of the way for now. Where's your Christmas tree? Downstairs? Some of these are for your dad and your mom...and I brought one for Doris too."
"Where is mine?" Mandy asked herself, but was a bit ashamed as there was no tree to put them under. In fact, because she had been so difficult about having her grandmother stay with her for Christmas, her parents had decided not to get a tree before they left. That would be her job, they told her. Otherwise the three of them would have put it up and decorated it together.
"No snow and no tree. No parents at home for Christmas. Just one strange grandmother, who I don't know at all and a whole pile of presents for everyone but me. Well, maybe there is at least one for me in this pile. This should prove to be interesting," Mandy decided silently. "Maybe I can salvage Christmas after all."
"We still have to get a tree, Grandma," Mandy said. "Dad and mom were too busy getting ready to go, so the Christmas tree decorating gets to be our job. Mom said that Doris would help us.
Here, let me take your coat and hat. Grandma, would you like a cup of mint tea? Dad told me that he always used to pick fresh mint for you, so that you could enjoy a cup of tea."
Mandy was becoming more than anxious to help her grandmother, after having seen the huge pile of presents. She decided that she should try to make a good impression, just in case.
"Do you have Earl Gray tea?" her grandmother asked. "I would really enjoy that."
Just as Mandy headed for the kitchen, the phone rang. She raced for it, almost falling, as she tripped over a scatter rug. "Mom, Grandma's here," she said excitedly to her mother, as soon as she heard her voice on the phone. Tell dad to come to the phone. And mom, she is beautiful. I am making tea for her."
"Dad's on the phone, Grandma," Mandy said, as she handed her grandmother the phone. She pulled out the china tea pot from the hutch and one of the country garden teacups that her mother loved so dearly. "I'm almost scared to use these," she said to herself. "I just hope I don't break one. Mom would never forgive me."
"Your mom and dad are just leaving the airport now," her grandmother told her a few moments later. The flight had been delayed because of the bad weather, but they were to take off shortly.
"I should have said goodbye to them," Mandy said. "What if they never come back?" she thought to herself.
"I said it for you, sweetie," her grandmother reassured her. "Your dad and mom said that you were a bit upset because they were going away. I told them that you and I were going to be just fine together. We are, right?"
"Thanks, Grandma, here is your tea." said Mandy, handing her a cup and saucer. "Probably it was just as well that you talked to them. After all, I get to talk to them all the time."
"If you had not been here, I would have had a chance to talk to them myself," she thought angrily. "After all, they are my dad and mom, and not yours. Oh why did you have to come?"
Mandy remained silent watching her grandmother closely as she drank her tea. She offered her grandmother a tea biscuit and just as she started to speak, her words were cut short as the doorbell rang. "Grandma, I am really glad...."
Shine Bright (Part Two)
Shine Bright (Part two)
Part Two: It's your Grandma
"Mandy," she heard a frail, elderly, female voice call from the other side of the door. "It's your Grandma. Open the door, honey."
It was as if her grandmother had sensed her hesitancy and knew that it was her on the other side of the door. Maybe she had heard the footsteps and knew that Mandy was afraid to open the door.
"Maybe Grandma is as scared as I am?" Mandy pondered. "She sounds so old."
She put her hand on the door knob and turned it very slowly. She opened the door just a crack and took a quick look. All she saw at first, was a collection of boxes in various sizes and a couple of brown suitcases.
"What on earth?" she wondered. "Grandma?" she called out. "Is that you?"
"Yes, it is me. I'm here," the voice said again. "You must be Mandy, but my, you look so mature for eleven."
All Mandy could see was someone in a long coat, wearing a pair of new black boots and glasses.
There were brilliant, blue eyes peering from behind a bunch of brightly wrapped presents with huge red bows. She could not really see her grandmother's face.
"Would you like to give me a hand with these, please?" the elderly lady asked. "Take the ones on the top. Be careful though, because one of those is really quite fragile. That one is crystal for your mom. I did a little bit of extra shopping at the airport."
"Sure, I'll help you," Mandy said shyly. "There, I've got them."
She stood there for just a moment, silently looking into the smiling face of the beautiful, elderly lady, dressed very elegantly in a full length, soft, white, wool coat and hat. Her hair was tied back from her face and shone in the light.
"What a pretty silvery colour!" she thought to herself. "You are my grandmother?" Mandy said in amazement.
"I am," the gracious lady said gently. "And you are Mandy. You are a really beautiful young lady, so grown up. But then I knew you would be, as your father told my that you were turning into a gorgeous teenager. Every word he said was true."
"I am not quite a teen yet," Mandy protested. She was just a little bit embarrassed and very conscious of the fact that what she was wearing was a t-shirt and blue jeans. Her feet were bare.
"This is not what I expected at all," she thought to herself. "I should have put on my good clothes." She was utterly amazed. "This is not somebody that needs to be taken care of. I am going to have a hard time keeping up with this lady as she is no crotchety old senior."
Only her grandmother's voice betrayed her age.
"Well, do I meet with your approval? And may I come in?" her grandmother asked, after the moment of total silence. "I am not really the person that you expected to see, am I?"
"It is just that you look so much like my dad that it took me by surprise," Mandy replied. "Yes, please do come in." She opened the door wider and helped her carry in all of the boxes, the suitcases and the presents. "This is not what I thought was going to happen," she said to herself.
Part Two: It's your Grandma
"Mandy," she heard a frail, elderly, female voice call from the other side of the door. "It's your Grandma. Open the door, honey."
It was as if her grandmother had sensed her hesitancy and knew that it was her on the other side of the door. Maybe she had heard the footsteps and knew that Mandy was afraid to open the door.
"Maybe Grandma is as scared as I am?" Mandy pondered. "She sounds so old."
She put her hand on the door knob and turned it very slowly. She opened the door just a crack and took a quick look. All she saw at first, was a collection of boxes in various sizes and a couple of brown suitcases.
"What on earth?" she wondered. "Grandma?" she called out. "Is that you?"
"Yes, it is me. I'm here," the voice said again. "You must be Mandy, but my, you look so mature for eleven."
All Mandy could see was someone in a long coat, wearing a pair of new black boots and glasses.
There were brilliant, blue eyes peering from behind a bunch of brightly wrapped presents with huge red bows. She could not really see her grandmother's face.
"Would you like to give me a hand with these, please?" the elderly lady asked. "Take the ones on the top. Be careful though, because one of those is really quite fragile. That one is crystal for your mom. I did a little bit of extra shopping at the airport."
"Sure, I'll help you," Mandy said shyly. "There, I've got them."
She stood there for just a moment, silently looking into the smiling face of the beautiful, elderly lady, dressed very elegantly in a full length, soft, white, wool coat and hat. Her hair was tied back from her face and shone in the light.
"What a pretty silvery colour!" she thought to herself. "You are my grandmother?" Mandy said in amazement.
"I am," the gracious lady said gently. "And you are Mandy. You are a really beautiful young lady, so grown up. But then I knew you would be, as your father told my that you were turning into a gorgeous teenager. Every word he said was true."
"I am not quite a teen yet," Mandy protested. She was just a little bit embarrassed and very conscious of the fact that what she was wearing was a t-shirt and blue jeans. Her feet were bare.
"This is not what I expected at all," she thought to herself. "I should have put on my good clothes." She was utterly amazed. "This is not somebody that needs to be taken care of. I am going to have a hard time keeping up with this lady as she is no crotchety old senior."
Only her grandmother's voice betrayed her age.
"Well, do I meet with your approval? And may I come in?" her grandmother asked, after the moment of total silence. "I am not really the person that you expected to see, am I?"
"It is just that you look so much like my dad that it took me by surprise," Mandy replied. "Yes, please do come in." She opened the door wider and helped her carry in all of the boxes, the suitcases and the presents. "This is not what I thought was going to happen," she said to herself.
Shine Bright
Shine Bright
Part One: Someone is coming
"Oops," said Mandy, "That is not what was supposed to happen."
She quickly grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the orange juice, that she had just spilled on the table. "I am so clutsy. What a dummy!" She hurried to wipe up the mess and tidy up the kitchen. "I always make more mess than I need to. I have to learn to be more careful."
Just as she was finishing the breakfast dishes, the doorbell rang. She knew that it was her elderly grandmother who was coming over to stay with her over Christmas and New Years, as her parents were going to be out of town on holidays and had left earlier that morning, to take a six o'clock flight to Jamaica. Her parents had already decided that if Mandy's grandmother wanted to do so, she was going to be welcome to move in with them permanently. Mandy really did not like the idea at all.
"We really don't want to go anywhere at Christmas time, but that is the only time that we could book a flight, on such short notice. After all, my company is paying for our trip," her mother had told her. "You will be fine with Grandma. Besides which, Doris is here in the downstairs apartment and you can get her to call us, if there are any problems between you and Grandma.
Doris knows that Grandma gets the guest bedroom, and you can bunk in our room if you like. All three of you can watch our big flat screen tv together in the family room, if you want to do that.
You are old enough now so that it is not off limits to you. We trust you. You may have Hannah come over too if you want."
Hannah was her best friend.
"You are going to love Grandma, I promise you," her father had said to her, very gently. "I know, because she is my mother and she is such a wonderful lady. Anyhow, it is just about time that you really got to know your grandmother. After all, she is coming to stay here now, that is if she wants to live here."
He continued, "Don't forget that all the presents for Grandma and Doris are on the top shelf in the hall closet. The decorations are there too, so that you and Grandma can put up a tree together tonight, if she is not too tired from her long trip. I expect you to take good care of each other. I know you will. Just remember that I love you both."
"Where is my present?" Mandy wondered. "This is a fine state of affairs, having my mom and dad disappear at Christmas, and no present for me. And now I have to take care of an old lady too, possibly for the rest of my life." She remained silent, deep in thought.
"But I don't know Grandma at all!" Mandy had openly protested earlier, when she had learned that her parents were going away and that her grandmother was going to be there for the holidays, and that she might stay on after that too. "I only saw her one time and I was too little to remember. I was only two years old then."
She was really upset, but she was not being given any choice at all in the matter.
"I am so sorry," her mother had said calmly. "You two will be just fine."
Whether Mandy liked it or not, Grandma was coming on the ten o'clock plane, from Edmonton. Mandy had assumed at first, that her grandmother was only going to stay for two weeks. "This is not fair!" she had hollered, as the airport limosine drove off with her parents. "I should be going with you."
She stood there and waved goodbye, even though she was really angry and scared. "I could have stayed with one of my friends, instead of having to be with some dumb, old lady that I don't know. At least then I might have had some fun over Christmas."
"What if I don't open the door to let her in?" Mandy pondered. "Maybe then she will just go away and I will not have to spend my holidays with her. She could go live in a hotel."
Mandy knew in her heart, that she would never get away with that as Doris was downstairs, and that she might as well meet her grandmother now. "I know that this won't be any fun at all!" she said aloud, tossing the wet tea towel on the counter and reluctantly heading for the front door. It seemed like a million mile walk.
"Do I really have to do this?" she asked herself, stalling as long as she could. She peeked out the window and saw a taxi backing out of the driveway. She could not see anyone on the side walk.
"This is it," she said to herself. "It's now or never."
Part One: Someone is coming
"Oops," said Mandy, "That is not what was supposed to happen."
She quickly grabbed a paper towel and wiped up the orange juice, that she had just spilled on the table. "I am so clutsy. What a dummy!" She hurried to wipe up the mess and tidy up the kitchen. "I always make more mess than I need to. I have to learn to be more careful."
Just as she was finishing the breakfast dishes, the doorbell rang. She knew that it was her elderly grandmother who was coming over to stay with her over Christmas and New Years, as her parents were going to be out of town on holidays and had left earlier that morning, to take a six o'clock flight to Jamaica. Her parents had already decided that if Mandy's grandmother wanted to do so, she was going to be welcome to move in with them permanently. Mandy really did not like the idea at all.
"We really don't want to go anywhere at Christmas time, but that is the only time that we could book a flight, on such short notice. After all, my company is paying for our trip," her mother had told her. "You will be fine with Grandma. Besides which, Doris is here in the downstairs apartment and you can get her to call us, if there are any problems between you and Grandma.
Doris knows that Grandma gets the guest bedroom, and you can bunk in our room if you like. All three of you can watch our big flat screen tv together in the family room, if you want to do that.
You are old enough now so that it is not off limits to you. We trust you. You may have Hannah come over too if you want."
Hannah was her best friend.
"You are going to love Grandma, I promise you," her father had said to her, very gently. "I know, because she is my mother and she is such a wonderful lady. Anyhow, it is just about time that you really got to know your grandmother. After all, she is coming to stay here now, that is if she wants to live here."
He continued, "Don't forget that all the presents for Grandma and Doris are on the top shelf in the hall closet. The decorations are there too, so that you and Grandma can put up a tree together tonight, if she is not too tired from her long trip. I expect you to take good care of each other. I know you will. Just remember that I love you both."
"Where is my present?" Mandy wondered. "This is a fine state of affairs, having my mom and dad disappear at Christmas, and no present for me. And now I have to take care of an old lady too, possibly for the rest of my life." She remained silent, deep in thought.
"But I don't know Grandma at all!" Mandy had openly protested earlier, when she had learned that her parents were going away and that her grandmother was going to be there for the holidays, and that she might stay on after that too. "I only saw her one time and I was too little to remember. I was only two years old then."
She was really upset, but she was not being given any choice at all in the matter.
"I am so sorry," her mother had said calmly. "You two will be just fine."
Whether Mandy liked it or not, Grandma was coming on the ten o'clock plane, from Edmonton. Mandy had assumed at first, that her grandmother was only going to stay for two weeks. "This is not fair!" she had hollered, as the airport limosine drove off with her parents. "I should be going with you."
She stood there and waved goodbye, even though she was really angry and scared. "I could have stayed with one of my friends, instead of having to be with some dumb, old lady that I don't know. At least then I might have had some fun over Christmas."
"What if I don't open the door to let her in?" Mandy pondered. "Maybe then she will just go away and I will not have to spend my holidays with her. She could go live in a hotel."
Mandy knew in her heart, that she would never get away with that as Doris was downstairs, and that she might as well meet her grandmother now. "I know that this won't be any fun at all!" she said aloud, tossing the wet tea towel on the counter and reluctantly heading for the front door. It seemed like a million mile walk.
"Do I really have to do this?" she asked herself, stalling as long as she could. She peeked out the window and saw a taxi backing out of the driveway. She could not see anyone on the side walk.
"This is it," she said to herself. "It's now or never."
The Rogue And The Rug Rats
The Rogue And The Rug Rats
Part One: Roguish activity
"Herein, I dub thee, The Rogue!" I said to myself silently.
I could hardly believe what I saw happening as I watched the actions of a short, stout, middle-aged man, who I had become friends with over the past year. He had walked part way across the room and stopped to chat with a happy-go-lucky, chubby woman, who was standing beside her desk.
He looked her straight in the eye and while she was caught in a momentary trance, by his supposedly loving gaze, his other hand reached around behind her and across her desk. He grabbed something, which he was quickly pocketed. I was shocked at what I had just witnessed him doing.
Obviously, this was not the first time that he had engaged in this kind of roguish activity at work.
As I watched him time and time again, the reality of this kind of repetitive behaviour became increasingly evident. No one around him had any idea of what he was doing. He managed to get away with it, time after time, as he went from desk to desk, always repeating the same actions.
"This guy is really just a petty thief," I thought. "I wonder if anyone has ever caught the crook?"
Always having been a 'softie' and graciously compassionate towards waifs and orphans, I felt sorry for the guy, even with his shifty eyes and nimble fingers. Looking at his fingers up close, they were short and stubby, with his nails having been bitten off right to the tips. His hands never seemed very clean. But then he said that he had given up on using soap, particularly anti-bacterial soap, claiming that it was bad for his health.
Generally, his whole appearance was that of a nervous, lost-orphan kind of a ragamuffin. He seemed to lack any kind of discipline in terms of his mannerisms and personal attire.
He usually wore the same clothing every day, a very baggy pair of old, black, jogging shorts and a worn t-shirt. He was rather bow-legged and always had on the same grimy looking, off-white, sports socks and a pair of worn out, dirty, white runners, with holes in the toes. The laces that had been broken and re-tied, bounced along beside him as he walked, like some sort of a silvery shadow.
He only seemed to own one extremely old, grayish-green jacket and a tattered brown hat with a very large rim that hung over his face most of the time. There was a collection of different pins around the outside of the hat. I had no doubt any longer about how he had attained those.
Up close, he seemed to be a kind and gentle enough person and relatively well spoken, although he tended to be hard of hearing. His conversations were relatively limited to what he was wanted to chat about though.
Those stories were generally told at some length and with massive detail to anyone with a listening ear. The larger the audience, the better he liked it. But he would often walk away from the person with whom he was speaking and begin talking to a different person, in the middle of a conversation.
He really did not seem to be an objectionable person, but his shoulder length, shaggy blondish hair, tied back from his face and his bushy, pointed eyebrows, with the spectacles that he wore, perched on the bottom of his nose, made him into sort of an archaic figure at best.
When asked about his glasses, he replied, "They are the one dollar kind that you buy in the drug store. They are good enough for me." I wondered if he had actually bought them, or if they too had been pocketed by him, somewhere in his travels.
I rather suspected that most of his purchases were made in a second hand shop, if they were legitimate purchases at all. The reason I suggest this, is that I watched him as he tagged along behind me one day, in a dollar shop.
He went from item to item, carefully examining things, but when it came time to go to the till, he stood in the line up, very close behind me and then suddenly exited very quickly, just before he got to the cash register, without having made any actual purchases.
He waited for me by the door, supposedly examining the headlines on a newspaper. Later on, I spotted one of the items he had examined, protruding from his pocket. But I could not say anything, as I really had no idea whether it was something that he purchased at an earlier date, or if it was something that he had accidentally or intentionally walked off with, from the dollar store at this time. I did not even want to ask, as I suspect that he would not have told me the truth anyhow.
He often tagged along behind me or invited me to go for a walk. His destination was generally the bank and the coffee shop, when he gave me an invitation to join him. The first time, he showed me that he had fifty six cents on his savings account. Feeling sorry for him, I graciously bought him a cup of coffee. The second time, it was eleven cents on his account. Again, I bought him coffee and decided he could go the bank and the coffee shop alone the next time.
The 'tale of woe' that he gave generally had to do with what he called The Rug Rats. These were a set of ten year old twins, a boy and a girl, who were as different as night and day, according to the way that he spoke about them.
The twins, supposedly, he had acquired somewhere in his travels. This all seemed to be a bit bizarre, very much like a Charles Dickens kind of a novel, as his story unravelled bit by bit. I never really knew how much of it to believe, but being a very trusting person, I always gave him the benefit of the doubt. If he said his kids were starving, they probably were. If he said that he had to get clothing for them, he probably did.
Sometimes I felt that his yarns were just a little too far fetched, but then who was I to decide what was truth and what was not? I never did get to meet the twins for some reason. He often solicited gifts for them. Whether or not they actually got any of the gifts, who knows? I began to wonder if maybe they were just a figment of his imagination? If he managed to get a box of chocolates, he ate the chocolates right then and there and seldom if ever, offered even one to anyone else. If it was candy, it went into his mouth or into his pocket, never to be seen again.
Part Two: The four o'clock shadow
The Rogue was like a four o'clock shadow. Wherever I went, he followed. Sometimes he stayed right beside me, or fairly close behind me, while at other times he followed at a distance. He was sort of like a lost puppy that was always expecting to be fed. Feeling sorry for him, I often did feed him, because he invariably said that he had forgotten his wallet at home or had lost his money.
He never carried a lunch. When he did have his wallet or money in his pocket, he would buy very expensive treats, like pastries, cake or persians, seldom a sandwich or any kind of proper nourishment. Those special treats, he would eat either with someone else, or by himself, seated in a far corner of the large cafeteria. Quite often at lunch time, he would head out the door to the restaurant across the street. He generally went there alone.
One payday, he followed me very closely, as I went into the bank, just before I started work. I really thought nothing of it, as I was well accustomed to the tag-a-long nature of this character.
Because Christmas was fast approaching and there was a Christmas dinner that I wanted to purchase tickets for, I picked up a twenty dollar bill from the banking machine and stuck it into the change purse in my wallet. He stood there, waited and watched, while I did my transaction and put the money into my wallet.
That particular day, as time went on, The Rogue came closer and closer. While I was busy, I saw a hand reach over and grab a newspaper off my desk. Not saying a word, I reached over and took it back from his desk immediately. That was not about to deter him. He kept getting closer and closer, gliding his chair in close beside mine. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and moved away from him.
"Where's my twenty?" I asked myself a little later, when I was about to purchase the tickets for the Christmas dinner. "I should have been smarter," I chided myself, as I realized that I would never see that twenty dollars again. I knew exactly where it had gone.
"Going to the Christmas dinner?" The Rogue asked after work, as we were leaving. It was just as if he was fishing for a party invitation, which I might have been crazy enough to offer if the circumstances had been different. I knew that the twenty would have been sufficient to purchase two tickets and he knew it too.
"I was sort of looking forward to it, but it doesn't look like I am going to able to go now. Too bad, because I was thinking about inviting you and the kids," I said without any further explanation, as I quickly walked away from him and headed out the door.
Thieves always have a way of boasting about what they have done, and that is exactly what happened. Monday morning, after the Christmas party, The Rogue boasted about how he had treated his twins to their very first, twenty dollar pizza, complete with all the trimmings for the holiday season.
Supposedly, they had been living with him for about 18 months and he had never had enough money to buy them one before this time. Who was I to say anything, when I knew his kids, if they were real kids at all, probably needed the pizza far more than I needed to attend the Christmas dinner, either alone or with a companion.
I noted a distinct change in The Rogue's behaviour after that day too, as he no longer sat beside me. The person that he went to sit beside, immediately came over and asked me why The Rogue had moved, as he always seemed to be sitting where I sat. I casually mentioned that there was some money that had gone missing from the change purse in my wallet. I told him that I had not reported it to anyone and that I had decided to say nothing, but with the thought in mind, "Ok then, that twenty is the Christmas present for you and your kids."
The serious comment that the other person made left no doubt in my mind. "Thieves grab and run." The distinct absence of The Rogue confirmed his actions. I chuckled later that day though, when he made the suggestion that I should give him the gift that I had just won in a raffle, so that he could give it to one of the twins for Christmas.
"I don't think so; I am keeping this one," I told him in no uncertain terms. In spite of what he had done, I felt like a mean old Scrooge.
What I saw happening was petty crime, something that never really appeared to amount to much of anything, at least in terms of actual dollars and cents. I began to quietly advise those around me to keep an eye on their belongings and several people reported items that had gone missing. I was not really surprised but I really had no proof other than what I had seen. The Rogue was fast and because of that, no one other than myself realized what he was doing, or if they were aware of it, they too said nothing.
Christmas came and went, with The Rogue still filling his pockets or his mouth at every opportunity. One afternoon, I watched him standing beside one of the top management people, graciously greeting the person with a bow, but with one hand swiping chocolates, from a box on the desk of the management person, at the same time.
I was appalled. Candy canes and ornaments disappeared from another desk that had been decorated. Later he boasted to me about how he was decorating his home for the children, describing the same ornaments down to the last detail.
Stealing and boasting, The Rogue continued to do what he knew how to do best, even in the cafeteria. As his coffee was being poured by the waitress, his hand went into the box of granola bars on the counter and from there right into his pocket. He went and sat down at a table and then he had the gall to go back a second time, insisting that he did not have any sugar in his coffee. As the attendant bent over to get him some sugar, another bar went into his pocket.
Part Three: Not again
"Oh no, not again!" I thought to myself, as I heard a young woman's loud voice. "What has The Rogue done now?"
"Someone just stole my coffee," the woman continued. "And not only that, in my brand new
coffee mug too! That was a present that I just received from my youngest son."
I could see that she was visibly upset and on the verge of tears. She went from one area to another looking for it. As she came close to the desk that I was working at, she looked closely at my coffee mug. It contained melting ice and cold water.
"What does it look like?" I asked, trying to help her as best I could, considering the circumstances. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see The Rogue heading out the door with a large, brown, paper bag in his hand.
"It was just like yours but brand new," she stated, continuing to look for it. "And I had just filled it up with coffee. It is has the company logo on it." Mine was at least four years old, but still a good mug.
There was only one other person that I had seen with a mug like mine, but I could not prove that The Rogue had not purchased his somewhere recently. I was rather a co-incidence that he had exited so suddenly with something, as soon as she had raised an alert.
I quietly offered her the change for another cup of coffee, which she graciously declined. "I am so angry with whoever did that! My son will be upset too!"
"The next one that you get,"I suggested, cautiously, as I did not want to upset her further,
"Carve your initials into the lid, like this." I showed the initials on the lid on my old coffee mug.
"I'll never bring another cup to work," she said sadly, heading off towards her desk to begin her day's work.
Incident after incident occurred, but it mostly relatively small items that suddenly disappeared.
I began to wonder if The Rogue was even aware of what he was doing. Almost everytime something went missing, he had been spotted in that area at some time during the day. It seemed to be some sort of an obsessive-compulsive behaviour for him, bordering on what I would call cleptomania. But he was too fast and too smart to get caught, or at least so it seemed.
After all, I had caught him repeatedly.
"The hand is faster than the eye," The Rogue boasted to me one day, as he waved a small Canadian flag in front of me. I was not impressed.
I did not say one word but thought, "Oh, no, another item from the dollar shop." Obviously, he did know that he was stealing or he would not be boasting. I turned away momentarily and saw his hand grab a pen from my desk. "Sorry, I need that," I said to him sternly, as I took it back from his hand. He knew that I was wise to him.
The last time that I saw The Rogue, he was standing outside the bus, like a lost orphan, writing 'Goodbye," in capital letters on the window of the bus. The 'y', he had written backwards. He smiled sadly and waved his Canadian flag as the bus pulled away. I nodded and turned my head. I was really glad to see him go.
Part One: Roguish activity
"Herein, I dub thee, The Rogue!" I said to myself silently.
I could hardly believe what I saw happening as I watched the actions of a short, stout, middle-aged man, who I had become friends with over the past year. He had walked part way across the room and stopped to chat with a happy-go-lucky, chubby woman, who was standing beside her desk.
He looked her straight in the eye and while she was caught in a momentary trance, by his supposedly loving gaze, his other hand reached around behind her and across her desk. He grabbed something, which he was quickly pocketed. I was shocked at what I had just witnessed him doing.
Obviously, this was not the first time that he had engaged in this kind of roguish activity at work.
As I watched him time and time again, the reality of this kind of repetitive behaviour became increasingly evident. No one around him had any idea of what he was doing. He managed to get away with it, time after time, as he went from desk to desk, always repeating the same actions.
"This guy is really just a petty thief," I thought. "I wonder if anyone has ever caught the crook?"
Always having been a 'softie' and graciously compassionate towards waifs and orphans, I felt sorry for the guy, even with his shifty eyes and nimble fingers. Looking at his fingers up close, they were short and stubby, with his nails having been bitten off right to the tips. His hands never seemed very clean. But then he said that he had given up on using soap, particularly anti-bacterial soap, claiming that it was bad for his health.
Generally, his whole appearance was that of a nervous, lost-orphan kind of a ragamuffin. He seemed to lack any kind of discipline in terms of his mannerisms and personal attire.
He usually wore the same clothing every day, a very baggy pair of old, black, jogging shorts and a worn t-shirt. He was rather bow-legged and always had on the same grimy looking, off-white, sports socks and a pair of worn out, dirty, white runners, with holes in the toes. The laces that had been broken and re-tied, bounced along beside him as he walked, like some sort of a silvery shadow.
He only seemed to own one extremely old, grayish-green jacket and a tattered brown hat with a very large rim that hung over his face most of the time. There was a collection of different pins around the outside of the hat. I had no doubt any longer about how he had attained those.
Up close, he seemed to be a kind and gentle enough person and relatively well spoken, although he tended to be hard of hearing. His conversations were relatively limited to what he was wanted to chat about though.
Those stories were generally told at some length and with massive detail to anyone with a listening ear. The larger the audience, the better he liked it. But he would often walk away from the person with whom he was speaking and begin talking to a different person, in the middle of a conversation.
He really did not seem to be an objectionable person, but his shoulder length, shaggy blondish hair, tied back from his face and his bushy, pointed eyebrows, with the spectacles that he wore, perched on the bottom of his nose, made him into sort of an archaic figure at best.
When asked about his glasses, he replied, "They are the one dollar kind that you buy in the drug store. They are good enough for me." I wondered if he had actually bought them, or if they too had been pocketed by him, somewhere in his travels.
I rather suspected that most of his purchases were made in a second hand shop, if they were legitimate purchases at all. The reason I suggest this, is that I watched him as he tagged along behind me one day, in a dollar shop.
He went from item to item, carefully examining things, but when it came time to go to the till, he stood in the line up, very close behind me and then suddenly exited very quickly, just before he got to the cash register, without having made any actual purchases.
He waited for me by the door, supposedly examining the headlines on a newspaper. Later on, I spotted one of the items he had examined, protruding from his pocket. But I could not say anything, as I really had no idea whether it was something that he purchased at an earlier date, or if it was something that he had accidentally or intentionally walked off with, from the dollar store at this time. I did not even want to ask, as I suspect that he would not have told me the truth anyhow.
He often tagged along behind me or invited me to go for a walk. His destination was generally the bank and the coffee shop, when he gave me an invitation to join him. The first time, he showed me that he had fifty six cents on his savings account. Feeling sorry for him, I graciously bought him a cup of coffee. The second time, it was eleven cents on his account. Again, I bought him coffee and decided he could go the bank and the coffee shop alone the next time.
The 'tale of woe' that he gave generally had to do with what he called The Rug Rats. These were a set of ten year old twins, a boy and a girl, who were as different as night and day, according to the way that he spoke about them.
The twins, supposedly, he had acquired somewhere in his travels. This all seemed to be a bit bizarre, very much like a Charles Dickens kind of a novel, as his story unravelled bit by bit. I never really knew how much of it to believe, but being a very trusting person, I always gave him the benefit of the doubt. If he said his kids were starving, they probably were. If he said that he had to get clothing for them, he probably did.
Sometimes I felt that his yarns were just a little too far fetched, but then who was I to decide what was truth and what was not? I never did get to meet the twins for some reason. He often solicited gifts for them. Whether or not they actually got any of the gifts, who knows? I began to wonder if maybe they were just a figment of his imagination? If he managed to get a box of chocolates, he ate the chocolates right then and there and seldom if ever, offered even one to anyone else. If it was candy, it went into his mouth or into his pocket, never to be seen again.
Part Two: The four o'clock shadow
The Rogue was like a four o'clock shadow. Wherever I went, he followed. Sometimes he stayed right beside me, or fairly close behind me, while at other times he followed at a distance. He was sort of like a lost puppy that was always expecting to be fed. Feeling sorry for him, I often did feed him, because he invariably said that he had forgotten his wallet at home or had lost his money.
He never carried a lunch. When he did have his wallet or money in his pocket, he would buy very expensive treats, like pastries, cake or persians, seldom a sandwich or any kind of proper nourishment. Those special treats, he would eat either with someone else, or by himself, seated in a far corner of the large cafeteria. Quite often at lunch time, he would head out the door to the restaurant across the street. He generally went there alone.
One payday, he followed me very closely, as I went into the bank, just before I started work. I really thought nothing of it, as I was well accustomed to the tag-a-long nature of this character.
Because Christmas was fast approaching and there was a Christmas dinner that I wanted to purchase tickets for, I picked up a twenty dollar bill from the banking machine and stuck it into the change purse in my wallet. He stood there, waited and watched, while I did my transaction and put the money into my wallet.
That particular day, as time went on, The Rogue came closer and closer. While I was busy, I saw a hand reach over and grab a newspaper off my desk. Not saying a word, I reached over and took it back from his desk immediately. That was not about to deter him. He kept getting closer and closer, gliding his chair in close beside mine. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and moved away from him.
"Where's my twenty?" I asked myself a little later, when I was about to purchase the tickets for the Christmas dinner. "I should have been smarter," I chided myself, as I realized that I would never see that twenty dollars again. I knew exactly where it had gone.
"Going to the Christmas dinner?" The Rogue asked after work, as we were leaving. It was just as if he was fishing for a party invitation, which I might have been crazy enough to offer if the circumstances had been different. I knew that the twenty would have been sufficient to purchase two tickets and he knew it too.
"I was sort of looking forward to it, but it doesn't look like I am going to able to go now. Too bad, because I was thinking about inviting you and the kids," I said without any further explanation, as I quickly walked away from him and headed out the door.
Thieves always have a way of boasting about what they have done, and that is exactly what happened. Monday morning, after the Christmas party, The Rogue boasted about how he had treated his twins to their very first, twenty dollar pizza, complete with all the trimmings for the holiday season.
Supposedly, they had been living with him for about 18 months and he had never had enough money to buy them one before this time. Who was I to say anything, when I knew his kids, if they were real kids at all, probably needed the pizza far more than I needed to attend the Christmas dinner, either alone or with a companion.
I noted a distinct change in The Rogue's behaviour after that day too, as he no longer sat beside me. The person that he went to sit beside, immediately came over and asked me why The Rogue had moved, as he always seemed to be sitting where I sat. I casually mentioned that there was some money that had gone missing from the change purse in my wallet. I told him that I had not reported it to anyone and that I had decided to say nothing, but with the thought in mind, "Ok then, that twenty is the Christmas present for you and your kids."
The serious comment that the other person made left no doubt in my mind. "Thieves grab and run." The distinct absence of The Rogue confirmed his actions. I chuckled later that day though, when he made the suggestion that I should give him the gift that I had just won in a raffle, so that he could give it to one of the twins for Christmas.
"I don't think so; I am keeping this one," I told him in no uncertain terms. In spite of what he had done, I felt like a mean old Scrooge.
What I saw happening was petty crime, something that never really appeared to amount to much of anything, at least in terms of actual dollars and cents. I began to quietly advise those around me to keep an eye on their belongings and several people reported items that had gone missing. I was not really surprised but I really had no proof other than what I had seen. The Rogue was fast and because of that, no one other than myself realized what he was doing, or if they were aware of it, they too said nothing.
Christmas came and went, with The Rogue still filling his pockets or his mouth at every opportunity. One afternoon, I watched him standing beside one of the top management people, graciously greeting the person with a bow, but with one hand swiping chocolates, from a box on the desk of the management person, at the same time.
I was appalled. Candy canes and ornaments disappeared from another desk that had been decorated. Later he boasted to me about how he was decorating his home for the children, describing the same ornaments down to the last detail.
Stealing and boasting, The Rogue continued to do what he knew how to do best, even in the cafeteria. As his coffee was being poured by the waitress, his hand went into the box of granola bars on the counter and from there right into his pocket. He went and sat down at a table and then he had the gall to go back a second time, insisting that he did not have any sugar in his coffee. As the attendant bent over to get him some sugar, another bar went into his pocket.
Part Three: Not again
"Oh no, not again!" I thought to myself, as I heard a young woman's loud voice. "What has The Rogue done now?"
"Someone just stole my coffee," the woman continued. "And not only that, in my brand new
coffee mug too! That was a present that I just received from my youngest son."
I could see that she was visibly upset and on the verge of tears. She went from one area to another looking for it. As she came close to the desk that I was working at, she looked closely at my coffee mug. It contained melting ice and cold water.
"What does it look like?" I asked, trying to help her as best I could, considering the circumstances. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see The Rogue heading out the door with a large, brown, paper bag in his hand.
"It was just like yours but brand new," she stated, continuing to look for it. "And I had just filled it up with coffee. It is has the company logo on it." Mine was at least four years old, but still a good mug.
There was only one other person that I had seen with a mug like mine, but I could not prove that The Rogue had not purchased his somewhere recently. I was rather a co-incidence that he had exited so suddenly with something, as soon as she had raised an alert.
I quietly offered her the change for another cup of coffee, which she graciously declined. "I am so angry with whoever did that! My son will be upset too!"
"The next one that you get,"I suggested, cautiously, as I did not want to upset her further,
"Carve your initials into the lid, like this." I showed the initials on the lid on my old coffee mug.
"I'll never bring another cup to work," she said sadly, heading off towards her desk to begin her day's work.
Incident after incident occurred, but it mostly relatively small items that suddenly disappeared.
I began to wonder if The Rogue was even aware of what he was doing. Almost everytime something went missing, he had been spotted in that area at some time during the day. It seemed to be some sort of an obsessive-compulsive behaviour for him, bordering on what I would call cleptomania. But he was too fast and too smart to get caught, or at least so it seemed.
After all, I had caught him repeatedly.
"The hand is faster than the eye," The Rogue boasted to me one day, as he waved a small Canadian flag in front of me. I was not impressed.
I did not say one word but thought, "Oh, no, another item from the dollar shop." Obviously, he did know that he was stealing or he would not be boasting. I turned away momentarily and saw his hand grab a pen from my desk. "Sorry, I need that," I said to him sternly, as I took it back from his hand. He knew that I was wise to him.
The last time that I saw The Rogue, he was standing outside the bus, like a lost orphan, writing 'Goodbye," in capital letters on the window of the bus. The 'y', he had written backwards. He smiled sadly and waved his Canadian flag as the bus pulled away. I nodded and turned my head. I was really glad to see him go.
The Wannabees
The Wannabees
Chapter One: The rose and the thorn
"Hey, don't do that!" Poppa Bee spoke very sternly, but calmly and quietly, to his little daughter, who was sitting at the table with him.
"I want that!" Rosie screamed back at her father. She was trying to grab a tiny, red rose that he had placed in a small crystal vase, at the center of the family's dinner table, in the dining room of their beehive.
Suddenly, she pulled the edge of the white, embroidered tablecloth and almost everything tumbled to the floor. "My name is Rosie Bee and that rose is mine."
"No! It is not yours!" Poppa replied sternly, in no uncertain terms. He had managed to catch the tiny, red rose just in time, but the bud vase fell off the table and broke into hundreds of pieces, as it crashed on the floor. "Now look at what you have done!"
"This rose is a gift for your older sister, Mitsy. I picked it especially for her, because she is graduating from beehive school today. I know you really don't understand about beehive school or beehive graduation yet, as you are just too young. Just be good, because this is a very special day for her and we should all be celebrating her graduation together."
"Your mother will be coming in from the garden very soon," he assured Rosie, as he quickly picked up the broken glass and cleaned up the rest of the mess on the floor. "Just settle down."
He thought to himself, "I have so many children and they are all such wonderful and good children. I wonder what kind of a little monster bee this one is going to turn out to be if she continues on this way?"
"I want that red rose, Poppa. Give it to me!" Rosie, ordered. "Now!"
"I said 'no' and I meant it!" replied Poppa. "Now you go to your room!"
Rosie's face got redder and redder. "I said that want it!" she screamed at him suddenly. It looked like she was about to cry. She hollered at him again. "I will not go to my room, Poppa. I want my rose and I want it now!"
As she looked at her father angrily, tears began streaming down her cheeks. "I am going to get that rose and I won't stop screaming until I get it!"
So the screaming continued. Gradually it got louder and louder until at last, Poppa finally gave in and picked Rosie up. He held her tight in his arms. "Ok, you win," he said, handing her the tiny, red rose that he had picked for Mitsy.
"I cannot stand the screaming any longer," he said to himself sadly. "Why do I always give in to you, Rosie? Oh, what am I going to do with you?"
"Oh no, not another temper tantrum," Mitsy thought to herself, as she stood outside the door, listening for a moment before she entered the room. "Hey Rosie, what is all the screaming about?" she asked her little sister. "I could hear you hollering a mile away."
Mitsy stood there waiting for a reply and watched Rosie tear the petals and the leaves of the tiny, red rose from its stem. She tossed everything on the floor.
"There!" screamed Rosie, looking at her older sister. "Poppa picked it for me and you can't have it."
"Poppa," Mitsy asked quietly, "Why did you let her do that?"
"You always get everything," Rosie screamed at her older sister. "I never get anything."
"I am so sorry," Poppa said to Mitsy. He stood up and moved Rosie to another chair. Then he walked over to where Mitsy was still standing and said quietly to her, "I will pick another rose for you."
"That's ok, Poppa," Mitsy replied cheerfully. "You don't have to do that. I know that you picked it for my graduation and that is good enough for me." She bent down and gently picked up the scattered petals and leaves. "I will put them in my yearbook and press them. I am going to save them forever."
"Keep your yearbook up on the top shelf," Poppa suggested quietly to her. "Way up high."
"I will," Mitsy replied. "And Poppa, thanks. I just love the fact that you went out and picked that tiny, red rose for me....even if...." The rest, she left unsaid, as she gave him a quick hug. "I love you."
"You always work hard and you deserve it. I love you too," her father said to her proudly.
"I want the petals," Rosie screamed at her, as she watched her older sister holding the remnants of the tiny, red rose in her hands. "You have all the fun. I never get to have any fun. It's not fair."
"Working hard and playing hard, that is the way to really have fun," Mitsy said, as she turned her head to look at Rosie. She handed her one rose petal, which Rosie immediately put in her mouth and crushed.Then she spat it out, onto the floor of the beehive. The older sister was stunned and very sorry that she had given it to her.
"Now why did you have to do that?" Mitsy asked. "That was not even nice."
"I want all of them," Rosie yelled at her. "That was my rose. Give them all to me now! It was mine, not yours! Poppa gave it to me, not to you."
"So you can destroy them all? No!" said the older sister firmly, as she paused near the doorway.
"You already ruined one rose petal. Why should you be allowed to wreck all of them?"
"You could learn a lot from your older sister!" Poppa said to Rosie.
"Hey, what is going on in here anyhow?" Momma Bee, the mother of the two girls asked, as she came through the kitchen doorway just at that moment, carrying a basket of fresh food from the garden. She took a quick look around the room as she put the basket down on the table. "What happened?"
"Why did you have to be so mean to your little sister?" she asked before anyone had a chance to answer her questions. She gazed at Mitsy sternly.
"I didn't do anthing to her....." Mitsy protested.
"I am the mother around here and you are not. Now go to your room until you can learn to be nicer to your little sister. Right now!"
Momma picked up Rosie, who was screaming louder than ever. She cuddled her saying, "There, there, my pretty little Rosie....." She took out her handkerchief and began to wipe the tears from
Rosie's eyes and and gently brushed back the hair that was sticking to her tiny face.
Mitsy looked at her father and neither of them said one word about what had just happened.
"Look what I brought for you," Momma said to Rosie, as she handed her a little doll. I found this in the garden. You can play with it."
"Just go, Mitsy!" her mother ordered again. "Go! Right now and then we can have some peace in this beehive."
Mitsy did not say a single word as she quietly left the room.
"Na, na, na, na, na, na....." she heard Rosie holler in a loud, singing voice.
"Ouch! Now I hurt my finger on that stupid thorn," Rosie screamed at her parents, a few moments later. Mitsy realized that Rosie must have found the stem of the tiny red rose on the floor. She immediately felt bad because she had not picked it up and taken it out of the room.
"And now the leg fell off my dumb doll too." Rosie was not about to stop being bad or screaming for more attention.
"What's wrong with that girl?" Mitsy heard her father ask her mother in a loud, angry voice.
"Now she tore that doll apart too!"
Whatever her mother replied, Mitsy could not hear.
"Rosie," Mitsi said to her sister quietly, but just in her mind, "You sure were a sweet, little baby bee when you were born. I remember Poppa and Momma being so happy. I never could understand why Poppa named you 'Rosie' though......maybe it's because you were destined to be both a 'rose' and a 'thorn'."
Mitsy continued her thoughts, "I really love all of my sisters but they can be such a pain sometimes."
Chapter One: The rose and the thorn
"Hey, don't do that!" Poppa Bee spoke very sternly, but calmly and quietly, to his little daughter, who was sitting at the table with him.
"I want that!" Rosie screamed back at her father. She was trying to grab a tiny, red rose that he had placed in a small crystal vase, at the center of the family's dinner table, in the dining room of their beehive.
Suddenly, she pulled the edge of the white, embroidered tablecloth and almost everything tumbled to the floor. "My name is Rosie Bee and that rose is mine."
"No! It is not yours!" Poppa replied sternly, in no uncertain terms. He had managed to catch the tiny, red rose just in time, but the bud vase fell off the table and broke into hundreds of pieces, as it crashed on the floor. "Now look at what you have done!"
"This rose is a gift for your older sister, Mitsy. I picked it especially for her, because she is graduating from beehive school today. I know you really don't understand about beehive school or beehive graduation yet, as you are just too young. Just be good, because this is a very special day for her and we should all be celebrating her graduation together."
"Your mother will be coming in from the garden very soon," he assured Rosie, as he quickly picked up the broken glass and cleaned up the rest of the mess on the floor. "Just settle down."
He thought to himself, "I have so many children and they are all such wonderful and good children. I wonder what kind of a little monster bee this one is going to turn out to be if she continues on this way?"
"I want that red rose, Poppa. Give it to me!" Rosie, ordered. "Now!"
"I said 'no' and I meant it!" replied Poppa. "Now you go to your room!"
Rosie's face got redder and redder. "I said that want it!" she screamed at him suddenly. It looked like she was about to cry. She hollered at him again. "I will not go to my room, Poppa. I want my rose and I want it now!"
As she looked at her father angrily, tears began streaming down her cheeks. "I am going to get that rose and I won't stop screaming until I get it!"
So the screaming continued. Gradually it got louder and louder until at last, Poppa finally gave in and picked Rosie up. He held her tight in his arms. "Ok, you win," he said, handing her the tiny, red rose that he had picked for Mitsy.
"I cannot stand the screaming any longer," he said to himself sadly. "Why do I always give in to you, Rosie? Oh, what am I going to do with you?"
"Oh no, not another temper tantrum," Mitsy thought to herself, as she stood outside the door, listening for a moment before she entered the room. "Hey Rosie, what is all the screaming about?" she asked her little sister. "I could hear you hollering a mile away."
Mitsy stood there waiting for a reply and watched Rosie tear the petals and the leaves of the tiny, red rose from its stem. She tossed everything on the floor.
"There!" screamed Rosie, looking at her older sister. "Poppa picked it for me and you can't have it."
"Poppa," Mitsy asked quietly, "Why did you let her do that?"
"You always get everything," Rosie screamed at her older sister. "I never get anything."
"I am so sorry," Poppa said to Mitsy. He stood up and moved Rosie to another chair. Then he walked over to where Mitsy was still standing and said quietly to her, "I will pick another rose for you."
"That's ok, Poppa," Mitsy replied cheerfully. "You don't have to do that. I know that you picked it for my graduation and that is good enough for me." She bent down and gently picked up the scattered petals and leaves. "I will put them in my yearbook and press them. I am going to save them forever."
"Keep your yearbook up on the top shelf," Poppa suggested quietly to her. "Way up high."
"I will," Mitsy replied. "And Poppa, thanks. I just love the fact that you went out and picked that tiny, red rose for me....even if...." The rest, she left unsaid, as she gave him a quick hug. "I love you."
"You always work hard and you deserve it. I love you too," her father said to her proudly.
"I want the petals," Rosie screamed at her, as she watched her older sister holding the remnants of the tiny, red rose in her hands. "You have all the fun. I never get to have any fun. It's not fair."
"Working hard and playing hard, that is the way to really have fun," Mitsy said, as she turned her head to look at Rosie. She handed her one rose petal, which Rosie immediately put in her mouth and crushed.Then she spat it out, onto the floor of the beehive. The older sister was stunned and very sorry that she had given it to her.
"Now why did you have to do that?" Mitsy asked. "That was not even nice."
"I want all of them," Rosie yelled at her. "That was my rose. Give them all to me now! It was mine, not yours! Poppa gave it to me, not to you."
"So you can destroy them all? No!" said the older sister firmly, as she paused near the doorway.
"You already ruined one rose petal. Why should you be allowed to wreck all of them?"
"You could learn a lot from your older sister!" Poppa said to Rosie.
"Hey, what is going on in here anyhow?" Momma Bee, the mother of the two girls asked, as she came through the kitchen doorway just at that moment, carrying a basket of fresh food from the garden. She took a quick look around the room as she put the basket down on the table. "What happened?"
"Why did you have to be so mean to your little sister?" she asked before anyone had a chance to answer her questions. She gazed at Mitsy sternly.
"I didn't do anthing to her....." Mitsy protested.
"I am the mother around here and you are not. Now go to your room until you can learn to be nicer to your little sister. Right now!"
Momma picked up Rosie, who was screaming louder than ever. She cuddled her saying, "There, there, my pretty little Rosie....." She took out her handkerchief and began to wipe the tears from
Rosie's eyes and and gently brushed back the hair that was sticking to her tiny face.
Mitsy looked at her father and neither of them said one word about what had just happened.
"Look what I brought for you," Momma said to Rosie, as she handed her a little doll. I found this in the garden. You can play with it."
"Just go, Mitsy!" her mother ordered again. "Go! Right now and then we can have some peace in this beehive."
Mitsy did not say a single word as she quietly left the room.
"Na, na, na, na, na, na....." she heard Rosie holler in a loud, singing voice.
"Ouch! Now I hurt my finger on that stupid thorn," Rosie screamed at her parents, a few moments later. Mitsy realized that Rosie must have found the stem of the tiny red rose on the floor. She immediately felt bad because she had not picked it up and taken it out of the room.
"And now the leg fell off my dumb doll too." Rosie was not about to stop being bad or screaming for more attention.
"What's wrong with that girl?" Mitsy heard her father ask her mother in a loud, angry voice.
"Now she tore that doll apart too!"
Whatever her mother replied, Mitsy could not hear.
"Rosie," Mitsi said to her sister quietly, but just in her mind, "You sure were a sweet, little baby bee when you were born. I remember Poppa and Momma being so happy. I never could understand why Poppa named you 'Rosie' though......maybe it's because you were destined to be both a 'rose' and a 'thorn'."
Mitsy continued her thoughts, "I really love all of my sisters but they can be such a pain sometimes."
A Day Late And A Dollar Short
A Day Late And A Dollar Short
Part One
"Oh, no," Josh, the pudgy, freckle-faced ten year old boy said, knowing that it was already too late. "Why didn't I just stay there yesterday, like I was ordered to do?"
He reached into the back pocket and counted out some change. "Only one dollar and fifty one cents left," he said sadly.
"Not only that, I am a dollar short too. Now I cannot even catch a bus back to the evacuation center. Even if I had another dollar, the bus fare is at least two dollars and fifty cents. That would leave me with one penny."
He shook his head and laughed at the thought of having just one penny to his name.
"I don't even know if there is going to be a bus that I can catch, although there were still buses running when we left the evacuation center yesterday."
Josh looked around. "I guess I am in really big trouble. I am all alone. I am not only a day late, I am a dollar short too. Well, ninety nine cents. 'Ninety nine bottles of pop on the wall'..." The melody of one of the songs that they had sung at camp went through his head.
"I never should have listened to those other guys. Why did I give them my pop money on the way home? I know you told me not to waste my money, mom. I am so sorry. But it was so hot on the bus. I felt sorry for those other guys. Besides that, they told me that that if I gave them money, they would be my friends. What am I going to do now?"
Being an only child, Josh had learned to talk to his mother even when he knew she wasn't there, as he had been taught that his mother would always be with him no matter what happened. So any time he felt lost and alone, he just talked to his mother, just like she was right there with him and could hear every word that he said.
Josh frowned and looked down the long road ahead of him. "I am really, really tired and I don't want to walk all that way by myself," he decided and sat down on the grass beside the bus stop, hoping to flag down a passing car. He was on the verge of tears. It had been a very long walk and a really long night too. He was still in a state of shock because of all that they seen earlier that day.
"Nothing left." he said. "And here's me with one dollar and fifty one cents to my name."
"Mom, I know you always warned me not to hitch-hike, but this is a real emergency. I know you would understand," he said quietly, hoping against hope that his mother was still alive. "The likelihood of any cars coming along this road is very slim but if one comes, I am hitch hiking."
When the boys had arrived at the evacuation center in the devastated city after their school camping trip, even though they had been ordered to remain there and to wait to be taken to another area the next day, Josh had left with several other boys from his school, in order to search for their missing parents and other family members. They were determined to find out for certain if their homes had been destroyed by the hurricane and there was no doubt about it.
There was virtually nothing left in the area of their homes, other than a lot of debris floating in approximately six feet of murky water. Tree branches had been broken off every tree, even the ones that they had climbed so often. The telephone poles were snapped off and wires dangled everywhere.
Josh knew that he was totally alone in the world, at least for the time being, having been so senselessly separated from his family. He had no idea if anyone in his family was still alive. No one really knew who had survived the hurricane or who might have been evacuated to other areas in time to save their lives. His mother's name was not on the list of those who had to taken elsewhere to be hospitalized either.
When they had returned, a chaplain at the evacuation center told the boys that the hurricane that ravaged the area so suddenly, had wiped out the majority of the population in the small city and that not many people would be found alive. He said that he would keep them and their families in his prayers but did not offer anyone a lot of hope. They were all stunned.
Several days earlier, while they were still at camp, it had been announced that they would have to stay over for a few extra days, because of the severe storm that was heading towards their city. When he had called home to tell his mom that there would be a delay because of bad weather, no one had any idea how severe the weather was actually going to be.
Nor did they realize that all of the homes and the businesses in their area of the city would be gone when they returned. Even their school had been wiped out. There was nothing left and now the boys had seen it for themselves. Josh was shocked. If the other boys were equally devastated, it was not apparent as they put up a brave front.
"Sissy," they had yelled at him when he had started to cry. They had all laughed at him. "Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby, cry. Poke a finger in your eye, cry baby cry."
The other boys immediately decided that they were going 'treasure hunting' and took off, leaving
Josh standing there all alone. He knew that their intention was to find homes or businesses that were vacated and to steal whatever they could find, as that is what they had talked about during the night. Josh decided that he could not stop them but did not want to join them in their looting either.
"I'm going back to the evacuation center," he said to himself. "With friends like that, who needs enemies."
"Scaredy cat, scaredy cat," they had hollered at him as they left. Josh just looked away and did not say a word.
"I just want to find my mom," he said wistfully as he watched them all disappearing over the hill."
Part Two
"Mom, I know that when I was at camp, I should have said a proper goodbye to you," Josh chided himself. "I was in such a rush to go to that campfire, that I just dropped the phone and ran to be with the other guys. How was I to know that that was going to be the last time that I could ever talk to you? And look at them now. They have all taken off and left me all alone."
Josh sat on the ground, quietly resting and waiting for the bus.He was deep in thought, pondering what he should do next. He gazed at the dark storm clouds hovering on the horizon.
"I'd better find some shelter soon," he decided. "But where can I go?" he wondered.
"Water everywhere, but not a drop to drink." Josh spoke aloud. "Not even any trees left....no buildings....everything just gone. How can it be, God?"
Almost every direction Josh looked, he could see water and more water. Parts of the road were flooded too and from the looks of it, there was probably not going to be a single bus, truck or a car on the road. Not one had passed by while he waited. As a matter of fact, he suddenly realized that they had not seen one all day. "It looks like I have to walk. Ok, so that is what I am going to do, even if it takes me forever. Better than staying here."
Josh got up and looked around. "I still have a few hours before it gets dark, so I had better find a safe place to go for the night. I really don't have a lot of choice, it seems."
"God, show me where to spend the night." In the distance, Josh could hear the faint rumble of thunder. "Oh no, another storm. I am really scared of lightning."
Josh was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, but he had been smart enough to bring his back pack with him, when he and the other boys had left the center after dark. There had been no hydro and no lights, so it had been easy to sneak away unseen. None of the other boys had taken their backpacks with them and they had all laughed at him for carrying all his 'baggage'.
"It'll be too obvious," one of them had said. "You will just slow us down and we are not going to carry it for you."
"I did not ask you to carry it, and I am not going without it," Josh had added firmly. As far as he knew, that was all he had left in the entire world.
"It looks like you guys were the baggage that I didn't need," he decided as he watched them depart. He was fed up with them always picking on him because of his weight. "So I am heavier than you guys...I can't help the way I was born. Don't you dumb guys know anything about genes?" he had replied to them.
"Let's see," he said, dumping the contents of his back pack on the ground. "My jean jacket....a flashlight and a water bottle....a pair of shorts, some dirty socks, one shirt, my pjs and my pen knife..... and part of a chocolate bar. So much for survival," he concluded after taking a mental inventory. "I may have to make that last," he decided, taking one very small bite from the chocolate bar. "Dark chocolate...tastes good. I am so hungry."
He began to stuff everything back into his packsack. "Mom," he said gratefully. "You did a great job of helping me get my gear together for camp. I am always going to be so grateful for having you as my mother. I know I did not tell you that because I thought you would always be there when I got home. I really love you too."
"Mom, this road only goes two ways. One way is downhill and the other way is uphill. I may be a day late and a dollar short.....and it may be up hill all the way, but I am going to make you proud of me." Josh grabbed his packsack and slung it up over his back.
"I've got to keep my feet as dry as I can," he decided as he started to walk towards the hill.
"Otherwise I will have cold feet and I only have one change of dry socks. I am going to have to wash my own socks from now on. Gee, I hate washing socks." He could feel that his feet were already damp inside his shoes.
Part Three
"There was no food at the evacuation center when we got there," Josh reminded himself. "And the place was awful." The huge arena had begun to smell very bad because there were just too many people there and most of them had been there for several days before the boys arrived.
"There was not a lot of sense waiting there, and who knows where they would have sent us?"
Josh continued to talk to himself and to his mother, as he walked on and on.
There was not a soul to be seen, mile after mile. The area all looked the same, like some place that a bomb had hit. Everything looked strangely familiar but so different. "No cars....no people....no homes." He could not help wondering how the other boys had fared, but at least they were together. They had gone through this area many times, but it had never looked like this.
"This is really horrible." he said.
"Maybe when I get over that next hill," Josh said aloud and kept on walking, one step after another. He kept glancing at the sky. The sky was getting darker but the thunder seemed to have died down for the moment. "I have to find someplace to go." An occasional streak of white lightning flashed along the horizon.
Suddenly, as Josh approached the top of the hill, he heard a very faint whimpering sound. It sounded like some kind of an animal that was in pain. He stopped for a moment and listened carefully.
"Nothing," he said to himself. "I must be imagining it."
He started walking again and suddenly he heard a yelp, that seemed to be coming from across the other side of a ditch, filled with murky black water.
"A dog?" he wondered. "Here boy," he called. "Come on boy," he called a little louder. He heard another yelp. "That has to be a dog."
As he looked closer, he saw a very young, dirty white terrier standing on the other side of a ditch beside an old tree branch. "You are just a little pup," he said in utter amazement.
"Come on boy," he called again. "Come on. It's ok. I won't hurt you." The dog did not budge an inch.
"Ok, I am coming to get you," he told the pup, who was just standing there shivering. Josh did not know who was more frightened, him or the dog. As he surveyed the area quickly, he soon found another tree with large branches that had been broken off by the fury of the hurricane.
"That log is more than long enough for me to use to get across that water," he said aloud, grabbing one of the branches that was about a three quarters of a foot in diameter and towing it towards the ditch. It was really quite heavy.
Josh stopped and rested for a moment. He pulled off his back pack and tossed it on the ground.
Then he took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. "I might fall in," he explained to the pup who watched him closely. "Besides that, I have no idea how deep that water is. No point in getting everything wet," he said to the dog.
"What is your name?" The dog simply whimpered and gazed at him with big brown eyes. "You are kind of dirty and very wet," he said as he bent over and continued to pull the branch of the tree towards the ditch. "Just wait. I am coming to get you. Ok, so I get to walk the plank."
The dog yelped again, as if he understood every word Josh had said. As Josh got closer to him, the dog got braver and started to run towards him on the slippery log. "Just stay there," Josh said again. "You might fall in. We are both going to get wet if I lose my balance." He laughed and bent over to pick up the dog. "This is some kind of a balancing act. Now all we have to do is get back to the other side." He turned around and headed back the other way with the frightened dog in his arms.
The young pup immediately licked his face. "Hey," said Josh. "Don't get me all wet and dirty too."
A few moments later, they were both on the other side of the ditch. "At least we didn't fall in the ditch. You got me awful wet and dirty though," said Josh, grabbing his blue jean jacket out of his packsack. "Here, this will keep you warm," he told the grateful pup, as he carefully wrapped him in the jacket and held him close.
"Hey Mom, I have found a new friend," he hollered. "So what if it's a dog? I always wanted a dog and you told me I would have one someday. Now I really have one."
"Hey pup, you are my new friend, aren't you?" Josh asked the shivering pup. "When you've got a real friend, neither time or money really matters."
Again the pup simply licked his face. "You are going to be my family, as well as my best friend.
Good thing I found you when I did. I really needed a new friend today." Josh slung his backpack over his shoulder and carrying the pup in his arms, started walking again. "This is going to be a long walk," he explained to the grateful dog.
But no one could have prepared either one of them for what they were to find next.
Part One
"Oh, no," Josh, the pudgy, freckle-faced ten year old boy said, knowing that it was already too late. "Why didn't I just stay there yesterday, like I was ordered to do?"
He reached into the back pocket and counted out some change. "Only one dollar and fifty one cents left," he said sadly.
"Not only that, I am a dollar short too. Now I cannot even catch a bus back to the evacuation center. Even if I had another dollar, the bus fare is at least two dollars and fifty cents. That would leave me with one penny."
He shook his head and laughed at the thought of having just one penny to his name.
"I don't even know if there is going to be a bus that I can catch, although there were still buses running when we left the evacuation center yesterday."
Josh looked around. "I guess I am in really big trouble. I am all alone. I am not only a day late, I am a dollar short too. Well, ninety nine cents. 'Ninety nine bottles of pop on the wall'..." The melody of one of the songs that they had sung at camp went through his head.
"I never should have listened to those other guys. Why did I give them my pop money on the way home? I know you told me not to waste my money, mom. I am so sorry. But it was so hot on the bus. I felt sorry for those other guys. Besides that, they told me that that if I gave them money, they would be my friends. What am I going to do now?"
Being an only child, Josh had learned to talk to his mother even when he knew she wasn't there, as he had been taught that his mother would always be with him no matter what happened. So any time he felt lost and alone, he just talked to his mother, just like she was right there with him and could hear every word that he said.
Josh frowned and looked down the long road ahead of him. "I am really, really tired and I don't want to walk all that way by myself," he decided and sat down on the grass beside the bus stop, hoping to flag down a passing car. He was on the verge of tears. It had been a very long walk and a really long night too. He was still in a state of shock because of all that they seen earlier that day.
"Nothing left." he said. "And here's me with one dollar and fifty one cents to my name."
"Mom, I know you always warned me not to hitch-hike, but this is a real emergency. I know you would understand," he said quietly, hoping against hope that his mother was still alive. "The likelihood of any cars coming along this road is very slim but if one comes, I am hitch hiking."
When the boys had arrived at the evacuation center in the devastated city after their school camping trip, even though they had been ordered to remain there and to wait to be taken to another area the next day, Josh had left with several other boys from his school, in order to search for their missing parents and other family members. They were determined to find out for certain if their homes had been destroyed by the hurricane and there was no doubt about it.
There was virtually nothing left in the area of their homes, other than a lot of debris floating in approximately six feet of murky water. Tree branches had been broken off every tree, even the ones that they had climbed so often. The telephone poles were snapped off and wires dangled everywhere.
Josh knew that he was totally alone in the world, at least for the time being, having been so senselessly separated from his family. He had no idea if anyone in his family was still alive. No one really knew who had survived the hurricane or who might have been evacuated to other areas in time to save their lives. His mother's name was not on the list of those who had to taken elsewhere to be hospitalized either.
When they had returned, a chaplain at the evacuation center told the boys that the hurricane that ravaged the area so suddenly, had wiped out the majority of the population in the small city and that not many people would be found alive. He said that he would keep them and their families in his prayers but did not offer anyone a lot of hope. They were all stunned.
Several days earlier, while they were still at camp, it had been announced that they would have to stay over for a few extra days, because of the severe storm that was heading towards their city. When he had called home to tell his mom that there would be a delay because of bad weather, no one had any idea how severe the weather was actually going to be.
Nor did they realize that all of the homes and the businesses in their area of the city would be gone when they returned. Even their school had been wiped out. There was nothing left and now the boys had seen it for themselves. Josh was shocked. If the other boys were equally devastated, it was not apparent as they put up a brave front.
"Sissy," they had yelled at him when he had started to cry. They had all laughed at him. "Cry baby, cry baby, cry baby, cry. Poke a finger in your eye, cry baby cry."
The other boys immediately decided that they were going 'treasure hunting' and took off, leaving
Josh standing there all alone. He knew that their intention was to find homes or businesses that were vacated and to steal whatever they could find, as that is what they had talked about during the night. Josh decided that he could not stop them but did not want to join them in their looting either.
"I'm going back to the evacuation center," he said to himself. "With friends like that, who needs enemies."
"Scaredy cat, scaredy cat," they had hollered at him as they left. Josh just looked away and did not say a word.
"I just want to find my mom," he said wistfully as he watched them all disappearing over the hill."
Part Two
"Mom, I know that when I was at camp, I should have said a proper goodbye to you," Josh chided himself. "I was in such a rush to go to that campfire, that I just dropped the phone and ran to be with the other guys. How was I to know that that was going to be the last time that I could ever talk to you? And look at them now. They have all taken off and left me all alone."
Josh sat on the ground, quietly resting and waiting for the bus.He was deep in thought, pondering what he should do next. He gazed at the dark storm clouds hovering on the horizon.
"I'd better find some shelter soon," he decided. "But where can I go?" he wondered.
"Water everywhere, but not a drop to drink." Josh spoke aloud. "Not even any trees left....no buildings....everything just gone. How can it be, God?"
Almost every direction Josh looked, he could see water and more water. Parts of the road were flooded too and from the looks of it, there was probably not going to be a single bus, truck or a car on the road. Not one had passed by while he waited. As a matter of fact, he suddenly realized that they had not seen one all day. "It looks like I have to walk. Ok, so that is what I am going to do, even if it takes me forever. Better than staying here."
Josh got up and looked around. "I still have a few hours before it gets dark, so I had better find a safe place to go for the night. I really don't have a lot of choice, it seems."
"God, show me where to spend the night." In the distance, Josh could hear the faint rumble of thunder. "Oh no, another storm. I am really scared of lightning."
Josh was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, but he had been smart enough to bring his back pack with him, when he and the other boys had left the center after dark. There had been no hydro and no lights, so it had been easy to sneak away unseen. None of the other boys had taken their backpacks with them and they had all laughed at him for carrying all his 'baggage'.
"It'll be too obvious," one of them had said. "You will just slow us down and we are not going to carry it for you."
"I did not ask you to carry it, and I am not going without it," Josh had added firmly. As far as he knew, that was all he had left in the entire world.
"It looks like you guys were the baggage that I didn't need," he decided as he watched them depart. He was fed up with them always picking on him because of his weight. "So I am heavier than you guys...I can't help the way I was born. Don't you dumb guys know anything about genes?" he had replied to them.
"Let's see," he said, dumping the contents of his back pack on the ground. "My jean jacket....a flashlight and a water bottle....a pair of shorts, some dirty socks, one shirt, my pjs and my pen knife..... and part of a chocolate bar. So much for survival," he concluded after taking a mental inventory. "I may have to make that last," he decided, taking one very small bite from the chocolate bar. "Dark chocolate...tastes good. I am so hungry."
He began to stuff everything back into his packsack. "Mom," he said gratefully. "You did a great job of helping me get my gear together for camp. I am always going to be so grateful for having you as my mother. I know I did not tell you that because I thought you would always be there when I got home. I really love you too."
"Mom, this road only goes two ways. One way is downhill and the other way is uphill. I may be a day late and a dollar short.....and it may be up hill all the way, but I am going to make you proud of me." Josh grabbed his packsack and slung it up over his back.
"I've got to keep my feet as dry as I can," he decided as he started to walk towards the hill.
"Otherwise I will have cold feet and I only have one change of dry socks. I am going to have to wash my own socks from now on. Gee, I hate washing socks." He could feel that his feet were already damp inside his shoes.
Part Three
"There was no food at the evacuation center when we got there," Josh reminded himself. "And the place was awful." The huge arena had begun to smell very bad because there were just too many people there and most of them had been there for several days before the boys arrived.
"There was not a lot of sense waiting there, and who knows where they would have sent us?"
Josh continued to talk to himself and to his mother, as he walked on and on.
There was not a soul to be seen, mile after mile. The area all looked the same, like some place that a bomb had hit. Everything looked strangely familiar but so different. "No cars....no people....no homes." He could not help wondering how the other boys had fared, but at least they were together. They had gone through this area many times, but it had never looked like this.
"This is really horrible." he said.
"Maybe when I get over that next hill," Josh said aloud and kept on walking, one step after another. He kept glancing at the sky. The sky was getting darker but the thunder seemed to have died down for the moment. "I have to find someplace to go." An occasional streak of white lightning flashed along the horizon.
Suddenly, as Josh approached the top of the hill, he heard a very faint whimpering sound. It sounded like some kind of an animal that was in pain. He stopped for a moment and listened carefully.
"Nothing," he said to himself. "I must be imagining it."
He started walking again and suddenly he heard a yelp, that seemed to be coming from across the other side of a ditch, filled with murky black water.
"A dog?" he wondered. "Here boy," he called. "Come on boy," he called a little louder. He heard another yelp. "That has to be a dog."
As he looked closer, he saw a very young, dirty white terrier standing on the other side of a ditch beside an old tree branch. "You are just a little pup," he said in utter amazement.
"Come on boy," he called again. "Come on. It's ok. I won't hurt you." The dog did not budge an inch.
"Ok, I am coming to get you," he told the pup, who was just standing there shivering. Josh did not know who was more frightened, him or the dog. As he surveyed the area quickly, he soon found another tree with large branches that had been broken off by the fury of the hurricane.
"That log is more than long enough for me to use to get across that water," he said aloud, grabbing one of the branches that was about a three quarters of a foot in diameter and towing it towards the ditch. It was really quite heavy.
Josh stopped and rested for a moment. He pulled off his back pack and tossed it on the ground.
Then he took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. "I might fall in," he explained to the pup who watched him closely. "Besides that, I have no idea how deep that water is. No point in getting everything wet," he said to the dog.
"What is your name?" The dog simply whimpered and gazed at him with big brown eyes. "You are kind of dirty and very wet," he said as he bent over and continued to pull the branch of the tree towards the ditch. "Just wait. I am coming to get you. Ok, so I get to walk the plank."
The dog yelped again, as if he understood every word Josh had said. As Josh got closer to him, the dog got braver and started to run towards him on the slippery log. "Just stay there," Josh said again. "You might fall in. We are both going to get wet if I lose my balance." He laughed and bent over to pick up the dog. "This is some kind of a balancing act. Now all we have to do is get back to the other side." He turned around and headed back the other way with the frightened dog in his arms.
The young pup immediately licked his face. "Hey," said Josh. "Don't get me all wet and dirty too."
A few moments later, they were both on the other side of the ditch. "At least we didn't fall in the ditch. You got me awful wet and dirty though," said Josh, grabbing his blue jean jacket out of his packsack. "Here, this will keep you warm," he told the grateful pup, as he carefully wrapped him in the jacket and held him close.
"Hey Mom, I have found a new friend," he hollered. "So what if it's a dog? I always wanted a dog and you told me I would have one someday. Now I really have one."
"Hey pup, you are my new friend, aren't you?" Josh asked the shivering pup. "When you've got a real friend, neither time or money really matters."
Again the pup simply licked his face. "You are going to be my family, as well as my best friend.
Good thing I found you when I did. I really needed a new friend today." Josh slung his backpack over his shoulder and carrying the pup in his arms, started walking again. "This is going to be a long walk," he explained to the grateful dog.
But no one could have prepared either one of them for what they were to find next.
The Stone Soup Factor: Part One
Children's Stories: The Lucky Stone:
"What kind of a stone is this?" Yoj asked, as he bent over to pick up a very smooth, round stone.
"I have never seen anything like this before." All of the other stones in the area were large jagged rocks. "Wonder how this got here?"
Yoj was a young boy who spent most of his days on the mountain slopes, looking for food to take home for his grandmother, a crippled and arthritic, elderly lady who had taken him in, when his parents were killed in a landslide. The landslide had erased most of the village and many of the families were left totally destitute, as the mine that had sustained the village, had been forced to close as well.
"I am going to save that stone," he decided, as he put it into his pocket and continued to hunt for berries, but even the blueberries were very scarce that year.
"Why are we all so poor," he thought to himself. Then he hollered, "Why are we all so poor?"
"So poor.....so poor.....so poor?" the sound echoed through the mountain peaks, as if mocking his very words. He reached into his pocket to see if the stone was still there and it was. He rubbed it and decided, "This is my good luck stone."
"I am not poor," he said to himself. "I am rich. I have my good luck stone in my pocket." He headed down the mountain with the pail of blueberries that he had just picked. Tonight, he decided, they would have blueberry pancakes for dinner.
Meanwhile, his grandmother was trying to find something, anything to make soup from, so that she could feed herself and her grandson. She placed a big pot of water on the fire in the fire place.
But she had nothing to put in it, other than some salt. She tossed the salt into the pot and almost burst into tears, as her grandson walked through the doorway carrying a pail of berries.
"What's wrong, Gran,?" he asked her immediately, sensing something was wrong.
She smiled at him with tears in her eyes, accepting the pail of berries very graciously. "That won't make soup," she thought to herself, but at least the blueberries would taste good in pancakes. She knew she had no flour to make pancakes that night though. "What are we going to do? she asked herself.
"I have an idea," Yoj said, as she told quietly him of their plight, while they sat together drinking mint tea and cleaning the blueberries. They picked out all of the twigs and leaves very carefully.
The berries were very sweet, but really small compared to other years.
"We will have 'stone soup' tonight," her grandson promised, as he tossed his new treasure into the salty water in the soup pot. "I will be back." He really had no idea of what he was going to do.
He knew that there was very little food anywhere in the village. He kissed her on the cheek and smiled his sweetest smile, as he headed out the door and down the pathway to the village.
As he walked down the hill, he passed an elderly, gray haired gentleman carrying a little wooden box.
"Stop by and see my Gran," he said to the old man. "We are having 'stone soup' for dinner."
The old man beamed, lifted his hat and waved. "I'll do that," he said. "What is 'stone soup'? I don't think I ever had any before at your Gran's." He shook his head as he hollered but Yoj had already disappeared down the mountain pathway.
At the first doorway he came to, he saw a little girl named Lily. "Come by my Gran's for 'stone soup' later, and tell your mom to come too!" She jumped for joy and ran to tell her mom. "What does 'stone soup' taste like?" she hollered after him.
"It's really great! Just come by and you will see," Yoj hollered back happily. "If nothing else", he thought, "Everyone will have a good laugh."
"Don't forget to bring your bowl!" he ordered as an after thought.
Every person that he met in the village was invited the same way. No one said that they could not or would not come. In fact, everyone seemed really quite thrilled to be invited, so Yoj headed back home.
"Now what do I do?" he wondered, having a few second thoughts about what he had just done.
He had invited the whole community for dinner, knowing that his grandmother did not have even flour to make pancakes with. "I am really dumb," he decided. "What a foolish thing to do."
Later, one by one, the neighbours arrived and every single person who came brought something.
The first young man on the scene had managed to catch a rabbit on the way. It was not long before he had cleaned it and prepared it for the soup pot. "It almost got away," he said sheepishly to Yoj.
The first old man he had invited brought a box of mixed spices, the only treasure that he had in the whole world. It had been given to him by his son for his birthday, just before he had lost his entire family in the landslide.
Lily brought one big, red onion that she dug out of a old garden behind their house. Her mother had found some carrots there too, under a heap of rubble. Another neighbour had some parsley, not much, but just enough to add some flavour to a pot of soup. A second little girl brought a head of cabbage that she had found in a field.
Bit by bit, as the neighbours arrived, the soup pot was filled with turnips, potatoes and just about anything else that a person could ask for to make a hearty pot of soup. Someone even brought some dried beans and other lentils.
One short, bald middle-aged gentleman carrying his mandolin, told the tale of how he had run out of his house and had grabbed it, as the rocks hammered on the roof of his house. "I don't have anything to contribute to the soup," he said sadly.
"Would you play for us?" Yoj asked him quietly. He knew how beautifully the man could play.
The man's eyes beamed as he started to play his favourite mountain melodies. One by one, the neighbours began to sing and got up to dance with each other and some of the children.
The 'stone soup' started to smell good as it simmered on the fire. Under the direction of Yoj, the young boys ran around gathering fire wood and stacked it high for Gran.
In the crowd that gathered, there were a few tears being shed, but the light of life began glowing in the eyes of many of the members of the community, even in the eyes of some who had not smiled for a long time.
One of the teenage girls, the second last to arrive, came carrying a cup of sugar. It had been outside on the doorstep when the landslide hit her home. She had saved it. The last couple to arrive came carrying a bag of flour. No one knows who brought the oil, the fresh butter or the baking powder. They just seemed to appear from nowhere.
The ladies began making blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup, as the soup continued to boil.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Yoj called in his gentle voice, a little while later. "I know that you do not know why you were invited to dinner tonight, but thank you for coming. My grandmother is a very good cook and thanks to you all we have a huge pot of 'stone soup' and blueberry pancakes to share. I hope that you enjoy your dinner."
His grandmother could scarcely believe what had happened.
"Bless you all and bless this food," he continued. "Now we must begin to re-build our village," he continued. "Re-build our lives. Re-build our homes. Rebuild our mine. Re-build our hopes and dreams. Re-build."
Gradually the neighbours began to understand why they had been invited to dinner. As they were served their dinner one by one and sat down to eat, they began to discuss the merits of his plan.
Finally, Yoj sat down and began to eat his own bowl of 'stone soup'. He was the very last one to be served. It was actually very tasty. When he got to the bottom of his bowl of soup, guess what he found?
"Oh, there you are," he said to himself. "My lucky stone."
His grandmother's eyes twinkled in delight, as she saw him pick up the stone and wipe it off. She watched as he began to polish with the corner of his worn shirt and then put it his pocket.
"The 'stone soup' factor," she told him later, as the thought echoed through her mind. "Build, yes, that has always been our way. Build and re-build."
She also knew that it would not be easy, but with a community pulling together, it would be possible to re-build. After all, they had done that before, as had many mountain communities that had met the same fate. "I will have to remember the 'stone soup' factor", she said again as she drifted off to sleep.
In her thoughts and dreams, the village and even the mountains echoed and re-echoed, "Re-build....re-build....build....build....build."
As Yoj stood on the side of the mountain and gazed at the stars, he caught sight of one falling star with a very long fiery tail.
"Now I know how you got here," he said to the smooth stone in his hand. "You really are my lucky stone."
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Zoe (Part Five)
Zoe (Part Five)
Part Five: A breakthrough
A breakthrough came one Thursday morning as I worked with Zoe. I had been reading some nursery rhymes with him and he seemed to be enjoying them immensely. As he finished 'reading' the book, I went over to 'his' little table and put a blank piece of paper and a set of water color paints on a place mat. The placemat had a photograph of a northern Ontario waterfall.
Zoe looked so cute, gowned in an old shirt that was pinned at the back. He was wearing a baseball hat backwards and looked the part of an artist. I really was not paying a lot of attention to him or what he was doing. I was busy preparing his next project, as I knew from my nursing experience in pediatrics that if you keep children busy, then they generally don't keep you busy, with a few exceptions of course.
Suddenly I heard Zoe say "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo".
I immediately turned and looked at him and said "What did you say?"
He burst out laughing when he saw the amazed expression on my face.
"Anna-wanna-condo-bondo," he said as a definite expression of something while he continued to paint. I started laughing too, as his laughter was so contagious.
I repeated it back to him. "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo." I had no idea of what he was talking about or trying to say.
Zoe continued to paint but with the most wonderful expression of sheer delight on his face. I wrote down the words that he had spoken, so that I would not forget what he said and decided that I would ask his mother later what that meant in her Oriental language.
Suddenly, I was stunned as I realized what he was doing.
The place mat in front of him had a picture of a river, a tree, a bridge and a waterfall. He had copied it exactly, but doing it from one side to the other, instead of doing it from top to bottom or bottom to top, the way children normally paint. It was a perfect replica. The colours were almost exact shades of the colours in the picture on the place mat.
I decided that this was one picture that I would keep and with his help, put it up on the refrigerator door with magnets. Generally, he took his work home with him and showed it to his mom and dad.
As I hung it on the refrigerator door, he just stood there with his hands on his hips, gazing at it, and then looking at the place mat. He was obviously quite satisfied with it, and quite pleased that I had placed it on the door of the refrigerator.
Zoe moved on to his next project and a little while later, his mother came over to pick him up. He was still wearing his painting clothes and his baseball cap. She smiled and said that maybe what he had said was the name of some city, in the place where her parents, lived in the Orient. She had no idea what the word or the expression meant.
By the next time Zoe came over, I had made four little terry towel dolls for him.
We sat on the couch together and we made up a story about Anna, Wanna, Condo and Bondo. Each of the dolls had its own name. Zoe was thrilled and left at the end of our morning with the four dolls. I never saw them again.
Shortly after that, the mother informed me that Zoe would be starting kindergarten and that she and her husband felt that Zoe was returning to normal in terms of expected behaviour.
He had stopped screaming and was no longer destructive. He had begun to talk in sentences, not in baby talk. He was eating and drinking in a way that a child his age should. There were very few regressions according to his father.
It had taken ten months for this to happen. I could see a noticeable change in him and I knew that my time with him had not been wasted. I was immensely relieved and my heart warmed, when I saw him playing football in the back yard with his father.
Then another strange turn of events took place.
Unexpectedly, Zoe's mother she asked me if I would spend time with the younger brother, on Thursdays every week. I cautioned her that it might upset Zoe, but I agreed to look after the baby one morning a week, so that she could have some time to herself. She wanted to take the time to learn to read and write English.
I wondered how Zoe would react to that.
Interestingly, he was quite pleased and seemed to be as proud as punch about going to school. The little brother was a joy to spend time with, as he was so content and peaceful. Looking after him was a totally different experience.
According to Zoe's parents, he continued talking and behaving normally. He did very well in school which did not surprise me in the least. It appeared that somehow, something had 'clicked' and he just returned to being a bright and happy, playful child.
After that, I would still see Zoe off and on, but not on a regularly scheduled basis. He would stop in and show me things that he had made at school, or a treasure that he had found or whatever.
Sometimes I would sit on the doorstep and chat with him for a while, when he got off the school bus. He would tell me about his day. The odd time, I would babysit him and his brother at the same time, or take them both to the park. It appeared that the family had resumed a normal family life.
Needless to say, the parents were very grateful and I received a beautiful Oriental gift set from them as a 'thank you', which I will always treasure.
I still have no idea what "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo" meant to Zoe. I will never forget that expression. I wonder if he will remember it when he grows up. Maybe then he can explain it to me.
Years later, looking back, I wonder if I had actually found a budding 'child poet' who had spoken to me in a child's 'nursery rhyme', as the lines actually do rhyme.
Anna,
Wanna;
Condo,
Bondo.
I may never know and I realize that I don't really need to know either. If it was a poem, it was 'Zoe's Poem', truly his poem, not mine. The joy and the significance of it was in terms of his life.
Part Five: A breakthrough
A breakthrough came one Thursday morning as I worked with Zoe. I had been reading some nursery rhymes with him and he seemed to be enjoying them immensely. As he finished 'reading' the book, I went over to 'his' little table and put a blank piece of paper and a set of water color paints on a place mat. The placemat had a photograph of a northern Ontario waterfall.
Zoe looked so cute, gowned in an old shirt that was pinned at the back. He was wearing a baseball hat backwards and looked the part of an artist. I really was not paying a lot of attention to him or what he was doing. I was busy preparing his next project, as I knew from my nursing experience in pediatrics that if you keep children busy, then they generally don't keep you busy, with a few exceptions of course.
Suddenly I heard Zoe say "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo".
I immediately turned and looked at him and said "What did you say?"
He burst out laughing when he saw the amazed expression on my face.
"Anna-wanna-condo-bondo," he said as a definite expression of something while he continued to paint. I started laughing too, as his laughter was so contagious.
I repeated it back to him. "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo." I had no idea of what he was talking about or trying to say.
Zoe continued to paint but with the most wonderful expression of sheer delight on his face. I wrote down the words that he had spoken, so that I would not forget what he said and decided that I would ask his mother later what that meant in her Oriental language.
Suddenly, I was stunned as I realized what he was doing.
The place mat in front of him had a picture of a river, a tree, a bridge and a waterfall. He had copied it exactly, but doing it from one side to the other, instead of doing it from top to bottom or bottom to top, the way children normally paint. It was a perfect replica. The colours were almost exact shades of the colours in the picture on the place mat.
I decided that this was one picture that I would keep and with his help, put it up on the refrigerator door with magnets. Generally, he took his work home with him and showed it to his mom and dad.
As I hung it on the refrigerator door, he just stood there with his hands on his hips, gazing at it, and then looking at the place mat. He was obviously quite satisfied with it, and quite pleased that I had placed it on the door of the refrigerator.
Zoe moved on to his next project and a little while later, his mother came over to pick him up. He was still wearing his painting clothes and his baseball cap. She smiled and said that maybe what he had said was the name of some city, in the place where her parents, lived in the Orient. She had no idea what the word or the expression meant.
By the next time Zoe came over, I had made four little terry towel dolls for him.
We sat on the couch together and we made up a story about Anna, Wanna, Condo and Bondo. Each of the dolls had its own name. Zoe was thrilled and left at the end of our morning with the four dolls. I never saw them again.
Shortly after that, the mother informed me that Zoe would be starting kindergarten and that she and her husband felt that Zoe was returning to normal in terms of expected behaviour.
He had stopped screaming and was no longer destructive. He had begun to talk in sentences, not in baby talk. He was eating and drinking in a way that a child his age should. There were very few regressions according to his father.
It had taken ten months for this to happen. I could see a noticeable change in him and I knew that my time with him had not been wasted. I was immensely relieved and my heart warmed, when I saw him playing football in the back yard with his father.
Then another strange turn of events took place.
Unexpectedly, Zoe's mother she asked me if I would spend time with the younger brother, on Thursdays every week. I cautioned her that it might upset Zoe, but I agreed to look after the baby one morning a week, so that she could have some time to herself. She wanted to take the time to learn to read and write English.
I wondered how Zoe would react to that.
Interestingly, he was quite pleased and seemed to be as proud as punch about going to school. The little brother was a joy to spend time with, as he was so content and peaceful. Looking after him was a totally different experience.
According to Zoe's parents, he continued talking and behaving normally. He did very well in school which did not surprise me in the least. It appeared that somehow, something had 'clicked' and he just returned to being a bright and happy, playful child.
After that, I would still see Zoe off and on, but not on a regularly scheduled basis. He would stop in and show me things that he had made at school, or a treasure that he had found or whatever.
Sometimes I would sit on the doorstep and chat with him for a while, when he got off the school bus. He would tell me about his day. The odd time, I would babysit him and his brother at the same time, or take them both to the park. It appeared that the family had resumed a normal family life.
Needless to say, the parents were very grateful and I received a beautiful Oriental gift set from them as a 'thank you', which I will always treasure.
I still have no idea what "Anna-wanna-condo-bondo" meant to Zoe. I will never forget that expression. I wonder if he will remember it when he grows up. Maybe then he can explain it to me.
Years later, looking back, I wonder if I had actually found a budding 'child poet' who had spoken to me in a child's 'nursery rhyme', as the lines actually do rhyme.
Anna,
Wanna;
Condo,
Bondo.
I may never know and I realize that I don't really need to know either. If it was a poem, it was 'Zoe's Poem', truly his poem, not mine. The joy and the significance of it was in terms of his life.
Zoe (Part Four)
Zoe: Part Four
Part Four: No progress
Over a period of the first couple of months, I was getting increasingly concerned about him, because I was not seeing any real degree of progress either in his level of communication or in terms of any lengthening of his attention span.
But his father told me that he was becoming less destructive at home and screaming a lot less, so there was some definite progress in that direction. I decided to continue working with him.
I was actually enjoying my time with him, as his level of curiosity was so high that nothing escaped his attention. So as quickly as he left one project, I had another one for him to work on.
Some were relatively simple and some were quite complex. I maintained a high level of verbal communication with him. There was almost no verbal response from him, but I could see that he enjoyed and responded positively to the songs and the nursery rhymes, as well as to the rythm of music.
He loved to draw and paint or simply have a story read to him, although he seldom sat long enough for me to read a whole children's book. He was just a very busy little boy.
When he would become extremely active I would take him outside and let him run, after a ball or whatever. Sometimes we would just go exploring in the back yard and find all kinds of treasures or just go for a walk.
When we first started playing with family type toys, he would physically bash the other family members, particularly the smallest one. Gradually, that ceased as he began to realize that it was not acceptable behaviour.
While he was not punished as such in a verbal or a physical sense, it was made apparent to him that there were things that he should not do. He was rewarded for his positive behaviours and not rewarded in any sense of the word for negative behaviours.
Negative behaviour patterns got no attention at all and he soon realized that what he had been doing at home, was not going to work with me.
Part Four: No progress
Over a period of the first couple of months, I was getting increasingly concerned about him, because I was not seeing any real degree of progress either in his level of communication or in terms of any lengthening of his attention span.
But his father told me that he was becoming less destructive at home and screaming a lot less, so there was some definite progress in that direction. I decided to continue working with him.
I was actually enjoying my time with him, as his level of curiosity was so high that nothing escaped his attention. So as quickly as he left one project, I had another one for him to work on.
Some were relatively simple and some were quite complex. I maintained a high level of verbal communication with him. There was almost no verbal response from him, but I could see that he enjoyed and responded positively to the songs and the nursery rhymes, as well as to the rythm of music.
He loved to draw and paint or simply have a story read to him, although he seldom sat long enough for me to read a whole children's book. He was just a very busy little boy.
When he would become extremely active I would take him outside and let him run, after a ball or whatever. Sometimes we would just go exploring in the back yard and find all kinds of treasures or just go for a walk.
When we first started playing with family type toys, he would physically bash the other family members, particularly the smallest one. Gradually, that ceased as he began to realize that it was not acceptable behaviour.
While he was not punished as such in a verbal or a physical sense, it was made apparent to him that there were things that he should not do. He was rewarded for his positive behaviours and not rewarded in any sense of the word for negative behaviours.
Negative behaviour patterns got no attention at all and he soon realized that what he had been doing at home, was not going to work with me.
Zoe (Part Three)
Zoe (Part Three)
Part Three: Help for Zoe
I was very pleasantly surprised one morning to see Zoe's mother standing on my doorstep. She had never come over by herself before. She came to ask for help with Zoe.
In her broken English, she managed to communicate the fact that she wanted me to spend a couple of hours with Zoe, every Thursday morning. She knew that Zoe and I related well generally and she felt that I should be the one to work with him. She said that her husband was getting more and more upset with Zoe all the time.
I was a bit sceptical at first and wondered if there was really anything that I could do with Zoe that might be beneficial to him or to the family in general. She was quite insistent that I would get paid for my work with him, although I really did not expect them to pay me for spending time with him.
I knew that working with Zoe would be a challenge. I decided to talk to his father about it first and he agreed with his wife that it might be a good idea.
I don't know what Zoe understood in terms of having to come over every Thursday morning, but I do know that while he seemed a bit reluctant to stay by himself the first couple of times, it soon became apparent that he was more and more willing to come and spend time with me. We had spent a fair amount of time together when he was younger.
When Zoe was with me, he was extremely hyperactive but generally content, as he went very quickly from one project to another, for the couple of hours that I had him with me each Thursday morning.
I decided to work with him on a pre-kindergarten level as much as possible, when I could maintain his attention for any length of time, as he was now between three and four years of age.
His attention span was extremely short, anywhere from thirty seconds to a minute. He would go from one thing to another all of the time that he was with me. He just did not stop.
He was full of life and energy, so I attempted to do things with him that could use up some of his excess energy and then get him doing the kinds of things that any child his age should be able to do.
He seemed to do well with that kind of a program, as unstructured as it had to be, considering his level of activity. I also made certain that there was a rest period and a snack break included in what we were doing.
Before long, he began showing up at my door on Thursday mornings, all by himself, as his mother stood on her front door step, waiting for me to open the door for him. He was always right on time.
He learned how to ring the doorbell. His eyes just glowed the first time I answered the door and found him there all by himself. He was smiling from ear to ear.
I had a fair number of children's toys and Zoe began bringing his own favorite toys in a small back pack. Sometimes, he brought his brother's toys as well, much to his mother's dismay. I found his brother's bottle was in the back pack several times, when I was looking for a change of clothes for him. His mother always packed a change of clothing for him, just in case he needed it, which he often did.
Gradually, I began to see a much happier child emerge as if from a cocoon, in spite of repeated regression to earlier stages of childhood behaviour. A lot of his destructive behaviour gradually stopped although he still tended to throw things and drop things intentionally, as if to see how I would respond to his behaviour. He was no longer screaming unless he became extremely frustrated with something.
Basically, he remained non-verbal. I wondered at one point if he was deaf, but he did not appear to be hard of hearing at all. I began to suspect that I was taking care of an autistic child. Having a background in pediatrics, I understood the condition, although I was certainly no expert in terms of autism.
Zoe (Part Two)
Zoe (Part Two)
Part Two: A change in Zoe
Over a period of time, I noticed a gradual change in Zoe. He was still healthy and active, but he was not the same bubbly, little boy who always had everyone laughing at his antics.
In fact, he was becoming extremely frustrated and could not seem to express himself in an appropriate fashion. Instead of laughter, from his home or back yard, there was the continual screaming of an angry, unhappy child that echoed all over the neighbourhood.
As the months passed, Zoe became very sullen and quiet but at other times, extremely hyperactive and destructive. His parents did not know what to do with him.
It appeared that a part of the problem was related to the fact that they were continually arguing and there was a new sibling on the way.
Shortly after, a younger brother was born and matters became even worse. Zoe became resentful and jealous, hitting and biting his younger brother and repeatedly regressing to earlier childhood patterns of behaviour.
He continually wet himself and reverted to baby talk, if he tried to talk at all. Most of the time he just screamed when he wanted something. His food and his dishes would go flying all over the room when his parents tried to get him to eat. He would only drink from his brother's baby bottle.
For the parents, what was happening was becoming a nightmare.
I continued to spend time with Zoe whenever I was able to do so, partly at the father's request and also to give his mother a chance to spend time with the new baby. He was a beautiful
Oriental baby with such a gentle, quiet nature that he immediately became the center of attention for everyone when he was awake.
Over the next year, Zoe seemed to be getting worse.
His father began yelling at him, every time he did something wrong and that only seemed to make things worse. He was getting attention but in a very negative direction.
At one point the father unhappily confessed that he hated to come home from work, because there was just no way to control what was happening with Zoe's behaviour. The entire house was in turmoil and the father admitted that he had started drinking in excess.
Shortly after that the mother took the children and went to the Orient for a brief holiday. When she came back nothing had changed.
Zoe was getting more destructive, hyperactive and aggressive, and less communicative with everyone verbally. He seemed to be one very uhappy little boy.
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