Tuesday, January 14, 2014

THAT FINAL VOYAGE


THAT FINAL VOYAGE

     What a majestic, noble ship, this three-masted schooner!  It would never face the challenges of sailing on the high seas, and yet would face greater ones. It started life as a more humble single-masted boat. Our son had asked for a model boat to put together. It would be for his twelfth birthday. The look on his face as he unwrapped the box that contained the model revealed excitement and deep appreciation tinged with a hint of disappointment. It would be the twelfth model he would assemble, and certainly the grandest of them all. And yet, we could see in his eyes that it was not as grand as he’d imagined it would be. He knew something we didn’t.

     Over the following days, I would pass his room and see him patiently fit the pieces together. It was a large model, and required me to set up two card tables side by side for him  I was often tempted to ask him how his project was coming along, or to give him a word of praise for his diligence. His mother and I, however, knew that he desired no comment, no critique, and, especially, no applause. Working on these models was a private affair for our son. Nonetheless, his mother and I took great joy in seeing him looking so happy. 

     He got the model to a certain point, and then stopped. He placed it on a shelf and began working on other things. He pulled out books on boats and ships from his bookshelf.  He got on his computer and  either pecked away at the keyboard or browsed the Internet. Had he lost interest in this model project for some reason?  We were saddened, as we always enjoyed the part of the process where he put on decals, attached sails, and named the boat the most. But this was not about us.

     One Saturday morning he asked me to take him to the hobby shop, where I’d purchased the model. He had printed out a list and handed it to the shop manager.  With allowance money he’d saved over the weeks, along with birthday money he’d received from his grandparents, he purchased what, to me, seemed like an exorbitant amount of supplies. I said nothing. It was his money to spend as he chose.

     We returned home and he went to his room. After a while, I passed by the room to see that he'd taken the model off the shelf and was working on it with a passion I’d never seen before. Over the following weeks, he patiently transformed the shell of the model boat into a three-masted schooner. Though obviously brand new, our son had made the ship to look as it had endured years of brutal use coupled with prideful maintenance. 

     One night, our son was passed from the hands of death and into the arms of God and eternity. Years of fighting an illness that ravaged his body, but never his spirit, were now over. We found him the following morning snuggled against the model ship he had lovingly not only assembled, but created. On his desk was a “Last Will and Testament.” In this poignant document was a request that his body be cremated and his ashes placed inside the schooner. He had even made places on the deck where the flooring could be removed and the ashes poured.

     A few weeks passed, and we finally decided to check his computer for whatever he might have written or saved. We found downloaded images of the details of schooners and other nineteenth century sailing vessels, details that included itemized specifications for many of the ships. Our son had carefully scaled everything to match the size of his model. In addition, we found lots of short stories our son had written, stories cobbled from the writings of Jack London, Ernest Hemingway, and Herman Melville; maps and drawings; and ideas from his own vivid imagination. The last thing he’d written was a poem:

Oh, glorious vessel!                                                                                                                                                 
Begun from a box,

But finished in the mind.

A strong, wonderful mind,

Made to weather harsh seas, and harsher winds,

Yet stored in a body that wasn’t.

Oh, glorious vessel!

What adventures we’ve had!

Will have!

Until that final voyage,

God speed!



     I printed out the poem and had it framed alongside a photo I had furtively taken of our son as he put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. We placed it in our living room on a shelf beside the majestic, noble schooner.

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

A GOOD SAMARITAN FOR OUR TIME


A GOOD SAMARITAN FOR OUR TIME


     “It looks as though I need to go to the city council yet again to voice my concerns about conditions in this park. I thought we had the bums and degenerates pretty well outta here, but it seems they’re back.”


     “You really should, Ken. Just last night, my wife was telling me how she couldn’t take our younger kids to the playground because of the unsightly, not to mention dangerous, conditions here now. And I’m not talking about the landscaping, if you know what I mean.”


     “Gosh Allen, we’d better get a move on.  Church Council is discussing the expansion of the food for the homeless program and I think there might be a vote. I’m all for helping the homeless. Don’t get me wrong. But the problem is that too many undesirables hang around the church property for too long. Molly Worcester mentioned to me that some of the parents of children in our day-care program have expressed some concerns. I’m thinking we could find another place to set up our food for the homeless  We might even look into getting a food truck that can go into areas where the homeless hang out, so they don’t have to hang out by the church.”


     “That’s an interesting idea, Ken. Take the food where the people are.”


     “Remind me to bring up the park situation at the next City Council meeting, would you Allen?”


     Ken and Allen continued on to the Church Council meeting.  Not long after, two older ladies strolled along the same park promenade.


“…  and I think the china pattern Cindy picked out hits just the right balance between formal and every day. Young people today aren’t so interested in fine dining, but they still want quality.  However, I can’t say I agree with her flatware choice. I think it’s a little too trendy.  But it’s their home, so they need to make their own mistakes.”


     “I know just what you’re saying, Eloise. When my Susie …”


     “Excuse me, ladies.  Can you direct me to the bus station?”


     “Well, let’s see,” Eloise commented as she distanced herself from the slightly disheveled looking man who had approached them. “I think it’s about three blocks from here down that street. You can ask someone when you get to the street. I’m sure they’ll know.”


     “Thank you so much, ma’am.  Have a good day.”


     “I probably should have asked him if he needed money for a bus ticket, but in the back of mind I just thought he would use it to buy alcohol,” Eloise remarked.


     “You’re probably right,” Eloise’s friend Margot replied. “Did you happen to notice that Mexican girl, or whatever she is, sitting on that bench?  She can’t be more than fifteen and she’s obviously pregnant. We’re just being overrun with’em.”


     “That’s the truth. But one upside to it is that I can get my yard work done so much more reasonably than I used to. There’s this Mexican, I guess he’s Mexican, gardener who does absolutely wonderful work. And for not “muchos pesos.”


     “’Muchos pesos,' that’s so funny!”  Eloise and Margot laughed. Eloise then commented, “I guess we’ll all being speaking Spanish before long.  You’re getting a head start!”  Once again, they both laughed.


     “On a more serious note, Margot, please keep Westney and her family in your prayers.  They just lost their mountain cabin in a horrible fire. I understand her priceless quilt collection was lost, along with lots of family heirlooms.”


     “That’s so tragic. They worked so hard to get that little place, and I know they enjoyed it.  I certainly will keep them in my prayers.”


     Eloise and Margot continued on their walk.


     Eva Sanchez, the woman Margot referred to, sat on a bench enjoying the beautiful weather. Being thirty, and not fifteen, she was expecting her and her husband’s second child. They were so excited because they had been told she could not conceive again. Eva heard the women, but paid them no mind. She was more interested in the older man who had asked the ladies for directions. She got up and walked up to him.


     “Excuse me, sir. Can I help you?”


     “I’m looking for the bus station. I need to get to Boston.”


     “Boston is a long way from here.  Are you sure that’s where you want to go?”


     “That’s my home.”


     While Eva spoke with the man a police officer came up.


     “Officer, this gentleman says he wants to go to Boston, but I think he might have Alzheimer’s. He acts just like one of my uncles who had Alzheimer’s.”


     The officer then asked the man, “Sir, are you okay?”


     “Yes. No. I don’t know.”


     “Can you tell me your name?” the officer then asked.


     “I don’t know.”


     “Do you have any identification?”


     “I’ve got a paper here. I don’t have a wallet.’”


     The man then reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a slip of paper.  On it was written his name, address, and telephone number.


     “Let me call these numbers,”  the officer said.


     The officer then called what he assumed to be a home number. There was no answer, only an answering machine.  After leaving a message, he then called a cell number. This time there was an answer. The officer explained to the woman who answered that he was with an older man who seemed to be lost.  She explained that it was her father and that she would leave work immediately.  Eva then offered to take the man to his apartment as it was on her way home. The lady on the other end of the line thanked her and said she would be home was soon as possible. She assured the officer that they would be okay and showed him her nurse’s card. 


     Right by the apartment building where the man lived was a little café. As they walked by, Eva asked the man if he might like something to drink. She presumed he might have not had anything to eat for a while, so she offered to buy him a sandwich. 


     “Sir, you remind me so much of one of my uncles. He was one of the nicest people I have ever known.  You know, he loved music and loved to sing.  Do you love to sing?”


     “I don’t know.”


     Eva began singing a little tune and soon the man was singing along. He had a very nice voice. He also began smiling. Everyone in the café noticed and began smiling as well.  Then, Eva’s phone rang.


     “Mrs. Sanchez?”


     “Yes.”


“This is Miss Keebler. I’m so sorry, but there has been a wreck and I’m stuck in traffic. It will be at least twenty minutes before I can get there.”


     “Don’t rush, Miss Keebler. We're at the café right by your apartment building. I’m afraid I have to go to meet my husband to go to a play my daughter is in, but the manager here is very nice.  I’m sure he won’t mind looking after your father until you get here.”


     “Oh yes, Mr. Evans. He is very nice. That will be fine. I pulled over to call, so I’d better get back on my way. I know you must think I’m an awful daughter, but I was stuck today for care and I had to work.  My father promised he would stay in the apartment. I had food prepared for his lunch and everything.”


     “I don’t think anything like that, Miss Keebler. The fact that you had a slip in his pocket with contact information shows you care.  Just be safe, Miss Keebler.  Everything is fine.”


     “Mr. Evans?”  Eva asked the manager.


     “Yes.  Since you know Miss Keebler and her father, would you mind looking after him until she can get here?”


     “No problem, Miss …


     “Mrs. Sanchez, Eva Sanchez.”


     “Miss Keebler and her father come here all the time. They’re nice people. I’ll take good care of Mr. Keebler.”


     “That’s so nice of you. I’d stay, but this is my daughter’s first play and my husband took off early from work to go with me to see her.  You know, Mr. Evans, Miss Keebler will probably be tired from fighting traffic to get here. Let me pay you for Mr. Keebler’s sandwich and drink and give you some money for Miss Keebler to get something for dinner.”


     “Oh, that’s not necessary, but it’s very generous of you.”


     “It’s nothing. My husband is a gardener and I'm a nurse. We don’t have, as some people say, ‘muchos pesos,’ but we have all the things that really matter. Please take this. Also, if you don’t mind. I have a card here for emergency home care. This service is very reasonable and they are able to supply a qualified care giver at a moment’s notice. I know they are very reliable and a quality service.  When my uncle was living with us, we had to call on them several times and they were wonderful.  Please give the card to Mrs. Keebler and tell her they have my highest recommendation.”


     “Should I give her your name, Mrs. Sanchez?”


     “No, that’s fine. God bless you, Mr. Evans. And God bless you, Mr. Keebler.”


     Mr. Keebler then answered, “Thank you so much, Miss …?”

Sunday, January 5, 2014

THE INITIATION


THE INITIATION

“Young man,

What’s going on?

What’s that in your pocket?

Are you trying to take something?

Steal it?”


“No, sir.”

I’m not a thief.

I mean to pay for it.”

Out from his pocket came a watch.

“My bad.”


“Your bad?

What does that mean?

You’re not a punk, are you?

You know, son, I know your mother.

Now go.”


Shendrick handed the watch back to the store owner,apologized, and left the store.  It was his third attempt at shoplifting.  He had failed on the first step of his initiation into the gang he so wanted to join.  He had to face the local gang leader, Mr. K.


“Shendrick?

How’s it going?

You bein’ a good bro?

What goodies have you brought to me?

Let’s see.”

“Oh gosh,

man, Mr. K.

I really tried man.

I followed everything you said.

No luck.”


“Luck? Bro!

You needed luck?

So you don’t have nothing?

You’re telling me you couldn’t lift

nothing!”


“That’s right.

I’m not good, man,

at lifting things from stores.

I’m too obvious, I guess, man.

Don’t know.”


“Okay.

I like you, bro.

So, you blew your first test.

You were nervous.  That’s a good thing.

Right bro?”


“I guess

I was nervous.

I’m not a master yet.

I’ve got a long way to go.

Right, man?”

In Mr. K’s mind, Shendrick had learned a lesson. He gave him another test. The second test was to steal one wallet or purse every day for three days.  Each day, Shendrick would bring the item to Mr. K for his inspection.  On the first day, he lifted a wallet from a man’s pocket.  He brought it to Mr. K.

“A wallet.

Good job, Shendrick.

Let me see what’s in it.

Hmm, there’s nothing in this wallet.

Decoy.”


“Oh man.

I can’t b’lieve that.

It was just too easy.

The guy didn’t notice nothin’.

Nothin’!”


“Well, bro.

The pinch got pinched!

It happened to me once.

Now, go after something that’s real.

Not trash.”


Shendrick hung his head as he left Mr. K’s crib.  He would never get into the gang at this rate.  Of course, he did have to go to school.  At school, one of his teachers, Mrs. Prentiss, praised an essay he had written for her class.  She said he had promise as a writer.  He just needed to separate street talk from formal writing more.  Shendrick thanked her.  After school, he set out on his second quest, determined not to fail this time.  He noticed a restaurant that had outdoor seating.  It was a beautiful fall afternoon and the restaurant was packed with diners enjoying the food and the weather.  Shendrick noticed a table where a woman had carelessly placed her purse on the table beside the outside rail.  He thought about how he easy it would be to snatch the purse and be off in a flash.  He looked around and felt confident he could do the deed.  There was an alley he could duck into only one door down from the restaurant.  He put his plan into motion, grabbed the purse, and was off toward the alley.  He ran squarely into a city policeman.

“Ho there!

Is that your purse?

(He said sarcastically.)

It doesn’t go with your outfit!

(He laughed.)


“Oh, sir.

I’m so sorry.

That was really stupid.

I’m a good kid, please believe me!

Really!”


The policeman walked the boy back to the restaurant and had the boy give the purse to the lady, who was shaken up.  Shendrick apologized to the lady and looked mortified as he quaked in his shoes.

“Young man,

that was not smart

and you know it wasn’t.

You won’t let this happen again,

will you?”


“No sir.

Thanks, officer.

I’m really a good kid.

It was just too tempting,

that’s all.”

Shendrick didn’t know what to do.  Although the policeman let me off with a warning, he did take down Shendrick’s name, address and phone number.  He also took down Shendrick’s mother’s name.  Shendrick couldn’t face Mr. K with another failure, but he didn’t have enough nerve to make another attempt.  He decided to go over to one of his uncle’s homes and pay a visit.  While he was there, he found an old wallet in a drawer.  It was empty except for a few business cards. After he “pinched” the wallet, he asked his aunt if he could borrow five dollars to buy some flowers for his mother as it was her birthday.  She was so pleased with his thoughtfulness, she gave him ten dollars. Fortunately for Shendrick, she gave him a five and five ones.


“Shendrick?”

“Yes, Mr. K.”

“D’you do better this time?”

“Oh, yes.  I think I did lots better.”

“Let’s see.”

                            

“A five,

And then five ones.

There are some business cards

How come there’s no i.d. in here?

That’s strange.”

Mr. K looked at the business cards.  One of them had a name on it that was the same was Shendrick’s last name, “Odwalloh.”  He asked Shendrick where he got the wallet.  Shendrick was so afraid; he admitted that he had stolen it from his aunt and uncle’s house and that his aunt had given him the money. 


“You know,

I’m real upset.

Fam’ly stealin’ ain’t cool.

No one in my gang steals from fam’ly.

Got it?”

“Yes, man.

But I got caught

trying to pinch a purse.

The police took my name and all.

I got …”

“Got scared.

So you got scared.

Bro, are you scared of me,

or are you scared of the police?

Or both?”


“Of both

you and the cops.”

“You’d better be scared, bro.

Scared of me but not of the cops.

That clear?”


Mr.  K demanded that Shendrick return the wallet to his uncle and the money to his aunt.  He also decided to put Shendrick to the ultimate test.  He gave Shendrick a pistol and told him to rob someone at gunpoint.  He told him he should only use the weapon to scare the victim and then only use it for self-defense. Shendrick had one week to bring Mr. K the goods from his robbery.   Shendrick was very nervous about the firearm, but he also wondered why Mr.  K kept passing him up the ladder when he’d failed every test he’d been given.

With the pistol tucked inside his jacket, Shendrick went home.  The first person her saw was his mother, who beamed when he entered the apartment.  Her sister had called and spilled the beans about the flowers. There were no flowers.  Shendrick’s father was quite a cook. He had prepared an amazing birthday dinner for his wife, son and daughter.  Around the table, things were lively until his mother asked Shendrick a question.

“Shendrick?”

“Yes, ma, what’s up?”

“Your aunt called me today.”

“Oh, she did.  How is she?”

“She told me about the flowers.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Fortunately for Shendrick, he had not placed the money back in his uncle’s wallet.  He pulled the money from his pants pocket. (He had placed the pistol safely in his room.)  He explained that he didn’t have time to get flowers and that he was sorry.  The fact that there was a flower seller right on the corner of the street where their apartment building was didn’t register with Shendrick.  Also fortunately for him, he had purchased a present for his mother, which he presented to her very ceremoniously.  It was a beautiful vase she had admired.  It was even carefully gift wrapped.

Of course, Shendrick dared not take the pistol to school with him, so when school let out the next day, he rushed home to retrieve it.  He hid it in the inside pocket of his jacket. As he was starting to leave, he met his mother, who was returning from work.  She asked him why he felt the need to wear a jacket on such a warm day.  He made some lame excuse and went on his way.  However, when he arrived at a park where he planned his first “stake out,” he noticed that no one else was wearing a jacket.  It was unseasonably warm for October.  He decided to go home, ditch the jacket and pistol, and go play some basketball.  On his way to the court, he had to pass by his school.  His biology teacher, Mr. Metcalf, noticed him, and called him over.

“Shendrick.

Good to see you.

I have great news for you.

You know your lab experiment?”

“Yes, sir.

What about it?”

“It received an award.

It shows truly outstanding work.

Good job!”

Shendrick couldn’t believe his biology experiment had been singled out for special honors.  He loved his classes and did well, but this year seemed to be going especially well.  As he had two big exams the next day, he decided to forego basketball.  He forgot all about his new assignment from Mr. K as well.  The next day, he took his exams.  He felt good about both of them.  He also received lots of praise from teachers and students at the school for his biology award. 

When he got home, he retrieved the pistol and put on his jacket.  The weather was cooler that day, so a jacket wouldn’t stand out as much.  In spite of his academic successes, he was still determined to prove himself worthy of being a gang member.  He decided to go to a different park as he felt that someone might remember him from the previous day at the park nearest his home.  He found a relatively secluded area and sat with a book.  As he read, he would lift up his eyes every so often to see if there might be any candidates.  The day was overcast, which made it darker and safer for a robbery to take place. Then, an older woman came by and sat on the same bench as Shendrick.  She noticed the book Shendrick was half-way reading.

“Hello,”

the woman spoke.

“What’s that you are reading?”

Crime and Punishment by Do … sto –“

“evsky.” 


“How nice!

Is it for school?”

“No ma’am.  I just like it.”

“You should also read War and Peace.”

“I have.”

Shendrick shuffled on the bench nervously.  He could feel the pistol inside his jacket.  This park of the park had become nearly empty and here was this older woman with a purse.  It would be so easy for him to reach into his pocket, pull out the pistol, and hold her up.  She then, however, continued:

“Young lad.

I applaud you.

You’re improving your mind,

when you could be up to no good.

How fine!”

                    

Shendrick might have taken her comments as being somewhat condescending or perhaps racist.  However,  she was right. He was improving his mind when he could have been up to no good.  She then explained how she had lost her only son to cancer.  It so happened that Shendrick’s biology lab experiment involved the study of cancerous cells.  She seemed quite interested in his work and encouraged him to continue in it.   Shen then looked at her watch and excused herself.

Shendrick went home and enjoyed supper with his family.  He had three more days to complete his assignment for Mr. K.   Wednesday came and went.  Thursday came and went.  After school on Friday, Shendrick went home and placed the pistol in a bag.  He then sat down and wrote Mr. K a note.


“Hey sir,

I’ve failed ev’ry test.

You’ve been very patient.

I guess I’m not fit for a gang.

I’m bummed.


And sir,

Though I have failed

And know I’m not worthy.

I have gotten to know myself

better.


Thank you

for all your trust.

I have learned lots from you.

You have put me through my paces.

Thank you

My friend

and my mentor.

Crime is just not my thing.

I just craved being in a gang.

That’s all.

Shendrick folded the note and put it in the bag with the pistol.  He walked over to Mr. K’s crib with the bag tucked inside his jacket.  As he approached the building where Mr. K lived, he noticed lots of police activity.  There was also an ambulance.  He saw a body being wheeled from the building.  It was Mr. K! Forgetting that he had the pistol in his jacket, he ran over to the ambulance.  Mr. K saw him.

“Shendrick?”

“Yes, Mr. K.”

“Did you get the job done?”

“No sir, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“You pass.”


With those words, Mr. K breathed his last and was placed in the ambulance.  A policeman came over to Shendrick  and asked him if he knew Mr. K.   Shendrick told him he did.  Carefully wording his comments, the policeman asked Shendrick if he had ever successfully completed any jobs for Mr. K.   Shendrick said no.  The policeman patted Shendrick on the back and scooted him away. 

Away from the scene, Shendrick removed the bag from his jacket and took out the note.  He carefully wiped the pistol clean of any fingerprints he might have left on it and threw it in the river.  He kept the note.  He understood what Mr. K meant.  His failure to pass the initiation into the gang was actually a favor.  Mr. K  knew all along that Shendrick wasn't gang material.  A few weeks later, Shendrick was walking from school toward home when he spotted a gang member.

“Hey bro!

What’s cookin’ man?

Still lookin’ to hook up?

I can make it happen for you.

What say?”

Shendrick took the note he had written to Mr. K, handed it to the gang member, and walked away.