Books
Escape from Sunny Shores by William and Carol Mays
103 Crazy Ideas for Surviving Suburbia by Carol Mays
Books by Gerald Beckman
Books by Mike Mercer
Books by Gary Mott
Bright Fields by Louise Pettigrove
ESCAPE FROM SUNNY SHORES
CHAPTER ONE
Ronnie watched the apartment from his BMW, the engine off, the windows down. Nine o’clock at night and hot as hell, no breeze, the suffocating air reeking of cedar and car exhaust. San Antonio was even hotter than Corpus Christi, if that was possible. A dry heat, people said, although to him it was all miserable.
It was his second night, and he worried that someone would notice his car, gorgeous hunk of glass and steel that it was. He worried less about someone noticing him. No one ever paid attention to him. Not women, not men, not even muggers. He hated it that he was so nondescript, yet it was his greatest strength at that moment.
The smell of the doughnuts wafted up to him from the passenger seat. Only three remained. Sure, maybe he needed to lose a few pounds, who didn’t, but he needed courage. He chose a Bavarian cream, took a bite, and savored the yummy filling until his tooth sang in pain. Damn, another cavity.
Suddenly, the light in the apartment went out. Was it show time? He set the doughnut down and grabbed the sack that held the cigarettes and kitchen matches.
The tenant came out of the building. Enveloped by the dim, yellow streetlights, he tramped across the expanse of parched, dying grass in the yard. Where in the hell did he go at night? The manager didn’t know, only that most nights he left at nine or ten, sometimes later, and was gone an hour or two, sometimes longer.
Pulling his baseball cap low across his forehead, Ronnie slid out of the BMW and started walking. His knees wobbled, but this was his moment of greatness. He licked the last flecks of doughnut glaze from his lips and strolled into the complex. Luck was with him. The long, interior hall was empty, and he hurried to the apartment door and opened it with the key the manager had provided.
The place was a disgusting wreck. The tenant was a hoarder. Magazines and newspapers piled up everywhere, several feet high in places. A natural tinderbox. Ronnie would hardly have to do anything. He had to hand in to Judge Miller. The guy picked his victims carefully.
The newspapers stacked on the living room coffee table beckoned. He set an ashtray next to them, and took the matches out of the sack. All the articles had said not to use an accelerant, only use materials available at the scene. Damn, the Internet was good. You could learn how to do anything.
Besides, he didn’t need an accelerant. The place was a fire waiting to happen. All it needed was a little help. He pulled a full garbage sack next to the couch and slid some newspapers under the ashtray.
The long, erect flame of the wooden match excited him. He lit a cigarette, the same brand the tenant smoked, and sucked on it until it glowed a bright red, then set it on the newspaper. The paper blackened, but didn’t catch.
This was harder than expected. Sweat gushed from his body, and he farted. There was no turning back, no running back to his BMW. If he ran, there would be no BMW. It would be repossessed. He sat on the couch and, hand trembling, lit another match and held it up to the stack of newspapers above the ashtray.
It didn’t catch.
He got so nervous he dropped the match into the box of matches. Flames shot up like a torch and set the newspaper stack on fire, then spread to the couch inches from his thigh. He bounded to his feet as the fire crawled up the back of the couch and down the frayed seam in the middle of the carpet. Everything was catching fire. The curtains. The garbage sacks. Flames all around. How beautiful.
As he walked slow and steady out of the apartment, an alarm sounded, but no one ran into the hall. Lucky again. Another alarm went off as he put the car in gear. Fire danced in the apartment window, ran up the side of the building to the second floor. People, some in bathrobes, ran outside. A baby cried. A siren approached.
When he was a few blocks away, he buried his nose in his shirt sleeve and breathed the smell of the smoke deep into his lungs. How exciting, like nothing he had ever experienced. The Hemisfair Arena and the other downtown landmarks slipped past. The elation brimmed inside him, and he pulled out his burner phone. What an appropriate name for a phone.
“The eagle has landed,” he said.
“Time is still running out,” Judge Miller said in his gravelly voice. “The balloon notes are coming due soon. We need the beachcomber store that the old surfer owns. And we need your mother-in-law’s beach house.”
“I’ve tried everything on my mother-in-law.”
“Get creative. Turn up the heat.”
The line went dead. Ronnie’s elation faded. He picked up the Bavarian cream, chewed slowly to make it last, licked the glaze from his lips, and winced at the pain in his tooth. The surfer, Legend, was on the ropes, past due on all his bills. He would sell. But Mary had proven harder to swindle than he’d expected. He’d thought that once they’d gotten her to sell her house in town and move to Sunny Shores Retirement Villa it would be easy to get her to sell the beach house too. He’d even had the papers prepared, only to have her refuse to sign when they sat down in the plush leather chairs at the title company. What a humiliation for him.
Maybe she needed to see with her own eyes how much he had let the beach house fall into disrepair. Sunny Shores had periodic field trips, and one was planned for the beach. That would be a perfect opportunity for her to see what a wreck the place had become.
Even so, the old bat was stubborn. How could they turn up the heat even more?
The coolers. She lived to get drunk on those raspberry coolers. He would have Suzie refuse to get them for her any more. Suzie might balk, Mary being her mother, but he would not tolerate disobedience.
And he would call Sylvester Bonnet, the nursing home administrator. Ronnie would lie. He would say that Mary had started drinking heavily again, and she needed to be closely watched.
CHAPTER TWO
Mary wondered if she had misunderstood.
“No, I will not buy you a 4-pack of raspberry coolers,” Suzie repeated.
“You always buy me a 4-pack on Friday. You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. Just drive me to the convenience store, and I’ll go in.”
Suzie shook her head, her big gold-hoop earrings and dyed platinum-blond hair swinging with it. “You have to act your age.”
Mary wanted to fire back that Suzie was the one who should act her age instead of trying, and failing, to look like she was still in her twenties. That was not going to get her a ride to the store, however. She looked at her votive candle of Jesus for guidance. It burned a bright yellow, the smell of the wax mingling with the smell of disinfectant that always lingered in the air at Sunny Shores Prison. “When I agreed to sell my house in town and move here, you said you would drive me to the store to get coolers. That was the deal.”
“Your mind isn’t working the way it used to, and the alcohol doesn’t help. You’re on more medications now.”
Her mind was working fine. She had read a news story about a woman who lived to 110 by drinking three Miller beers a day. That was the ticket. All her life, Mary had done what people wanted, what the Church expected, a regular plow horse, more like a mule, taking care of her parents, her kids, her cousins, the neighbors -- and her abusive husband. She had gotten lost in all that effort, never really understanding who she was. She didn’t want Suzie or anyone else to make up for it. All she wanted was to watch reality TV and drink a cooler. The possibilities were limitless. She could see what the housewives were up to, or the trashy celebrities.
She gripped the arms of her red-velour wingback chair, the only piece of furniture she had been able to bring to her tiny room. “You are breaking your promise.”
“You have to face the facts. You were an embarrassment. Before you moved here, you would sit on your porch and drink all the time.”
“I never started before five o’clock, and I was moderate. Only one cooler, maybe two on weekends.”
Suzie shook her head again. “More like two a night, sometimes three, and three on weekends, sometimes four. And on Sunday you started drinking early.”
“Yes, on Sunday afternoon after Mass, I started at four, sometimes three.”
“Sometimes two.”
“I have curbed my drinking. You get me the 4-pack on Friday. I have one cooler on Friday, one Saturday, one Sunday, one Monday, then I’m dry until Friday. It’s Friday, Suzie. Time for a cooler. That was the deal when I agreed to move here.”
“You’re on more medicines now. You might fall. A cracked hip would be no fun at all.”
Mary jumped from her chair and walked across the room like a tightrope walker, holding her arms out for balance, putting one foot in front of the other. “I can move as good as I always did.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. You think you can still do everything you used to do, and at times you can. That’s the dangerous part. But you are slipping mentally.” She motioned to the candle. “You light candles. What if you forget you’ve lit one, and accidentally set a fire?” She took a deep breath. “And look at your stubbornness in holding on to the beach house.”
She pivoted to face Suzie. “Is that what this is all about? You won’t get me a cooler unless I agree to sell the beach house?”
Suzie’s voice faltered. “Ronnie made you a good offer, and went to a lot of trouble to have the papers drawn up. You made him look like a fool at the title office. You wanting to hold on to it shows how your thought processes are not logical. The alcohol makes it worse. That house is not worth anything. It is falling apart. It is too far off the beach. All the growth is away from that area. The taxes and the insurance are killing you. We can’t rent it anymore because it’s such a wreck. And you haven’t spent a weekend there in years. It’s been vacant for months. Ronnie can use it as a tax write-off in our real estate business. It’s the only thing it’s good for.”
Ever since Suzie had met that fast-talking Ronnie there had been no reasoning with her. Mary had never understood what Suzie saw in him. He wasn’t handsome, and year by year he was turning into a round little toad, blending in with all the other people who needed to lose weight. He was the kind of person you couldn’t find in a crowd. You tended to look through him as if he weren’t there. His big charm, if you could call it a charm, was that he talked fast and talked big, and always had some cockamamie scheme to make a quick buck. A lot of his ideas sounded good, yet they seldom worked out.
“It was always my dream to live at the beach house.”
“I know, mom. But that doesn’t seem very realistic, does it?”
“I am not ready to give up my dream.”
“Sometimes, we have to understand that our dreams are not realistic.”
Mary wasn’t going to let herself get bamboozled by her son-in-law. She looked at her daughter straight in the eye. “Are you and Ronnie in financial trouble? Is that why you’re so desperate to get it?”
Suzie grabbed her keys from her purse, but her hand was shaking, and she dropped them. “We are not in trouble.” She snatched them off the floor and jumped to her feet, her face turning red, her hair and earrings flying wildly back and forth. “Don’t take my word for it. Sunny Shores is having a field trip to the beach. I have signed you up for it. See for yourself. That house is a wreck. The whole block is a disaster. It should all be bulldozed. You’re slipping, mom. And the drinking is part of the problem.”
Suzie ran from the room without saying goodbye.
It had seemed like a good idea to sell her house in town. Her old neighborhood had gotten so bad, no upright families like before, only drugs and welfare moms and bad men. And the house needed so much work. Plumbing, foundation, termites. But those problems were better than the slow death of Sunny Shores.
Outside in the hall, tennis shoes squeaked past on the linoleum floor, moving fast, followed by even faster high heels. A car roared down the street. The whole world was in motion, yet she was stuck. The flame in the candle illuminated the image of Jesus, formed a halo around His head. It was a sign to take control of her life.
She pulled out her photo album, flipped through it to the storage pocket on the back cover where she hid money. She had 80 dollars in 5s and 10s. That would buy quite a few 4-packs. She took a 10 and put the rest back.
She felt something in the bottom of the pocket.
The keys.
One to Suzie and Ronnie’s front door, the other to his file cabinet.
Suzie had given them to her after she and Ronnie had a fight. The cabinet holds all his secrets, her daughter had told her. Please hold onto it for me in case things get really bad.
They got over their spat and hopped a plane for Hawaii, putting the whole bill on a credit card. Suzie was all smiles when she returned, but she had never asked for the keys back, never mentioned them again. They had been in the album ever since. Mary hadn’t thought of them in years.
The metal felt cool, the cuts and tip sharp the way new keys feel. She put them back in the pocket and checked herself in the mirror, smoothing out her green floral dress, one she had owned for forty years, and which still fit perfectly. People stopped taking care of themselves when they got old. They quit dressing nicely, they quit applying make-up. Some even stopped bathing and began to have that unmistakable old-person smell. She had no intention of letting herself get that way. Even at her age, the men stared, and she enjoyed the attention. She dug through her jewelry box and found a pendant the same shade of green as her dress. Perfect. Fashion was like milk. It spoiled. You always had to have something fresh, and if you couldn’t buy something new, then you had to put things together in a fresh way. Feeling sexy, she put on her black cloche hat and sauntered out of her room.
A chilling sight greeted her. The warden, Sylvester Bonnet, stood at the end of the hall. She had never liked him because he looked a lot like Ronnie, only fatter and more distinctly ugly with a double chin. A tall orderly named Sean stood next to him, the two of them blocking her path.
“How are you today, Mary?” Bonnet asked when she reached them.
He had never asked how she was. “I’m fine.”
“What are you doing?”
He had never asked what she was doing. “Getting a little air.”
“So nicely dressed? Where are you going?”
“Out to the garden.”
She stepped past them and continued on to the garden, which was enclosed by shrubs and a fence. She squeezed through a tiny gap between a post and an oleander, something only someone thin and agile could do, taking care that nothing snagged her dress or hat, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The bright, yellow sun danced in her eyes. Cars zipped past so close they left a wake of exhaust and wind. She clutched her handbag, passed medical offices. Internal medicine, Ophthalmology, Physical Therapy, minor emergency center, a day surgery center, and in the distance, shimmering in the heat like an oasis, the convenience store.
There were so many alcohol choices. Floor to ceiling. Cans, bottles, single beers, six packs, exotic beers in dark bottles, malt liquors. So many flavors of coolers. They weren’t called “wine coolers” any more. They were “flavored malt coolers.” Why couldn’t they have stuck with the old name? Why did the world have to keep changing?
Imagining the warm glow she got from drinking even half a bottle, she wondered if she should stick with Raspberry, or strike out into bold, new territory like berry or navel. There was even a variety pack. Better safe than sorry. She pulled a Raspberry from the shelf as well as a variety pack. Her mini-fridge would accommodate two 4-packs.
A construction worker, his underwear showing because of his saggy jeans, stood in front of her with a 24-pack of beer. A boy and a girl in line behind her played with their cellphones, never talking to each other. The clerk had a stud earring in his left lobe and tattoos of skulls on his wrist. What was the world coming to?
The heat bore down on her as she walked back to her room, but her legs felt strong, and her mind was working just fine. She knew she had made a terrible mistake moving to Sunny Shores. She had to escape.
Books by Gary Mott
South Easterly Winds 1
South Easterly Winds 2
South Easterly Winds 3
Gary Mott
South Easterly Winds 2, part of a trilogy, a fictionalized memoir from days long ago, early 60's, in Portland, Texas.
The family Christmas Eve Celebration was in Portland this year. Bernice and Buster invited friends, neighbors, and of course, his business family, to attend their Christmas Eve Party. The house was set up for the big event. Folding chairs were rented and brought in and set around the home and outside on the patio. Extra tables were set up with festive tablecloths and all sorts of delightful goodies Mumzie named finger food and solid plate food. They expected a horde of people. The buffet was ready.
One table had all the baked goodies such as pies, cakes, cookies, and assorted candies in crystal bowls. Another table, the dining room table, had South Texas seafood items which included shrimp prepared in several ways. Fried shrimp with the secret recipe batter was a popular choice for many. Shrimp-ka-bobs were popular. Others liked shrimp scampi over a bed of rice with garlic bread. The Tex/Mex holiday table also had tamales and Mumzie’s beautiful handwriting on small holiday cards identified each type: beef mild, beef hot, chicken mild, chicken spicy, pork mild and pork hot. Of course there was homemade beef chili, cornbread, Spanish rice and beans and tortillas. For others there was sliced BBQ brisket, sausage, cowboy beer beans, with all the trimmings which meant Butterkrust white bread, sliced pickles, and sliced onion. There was also a large bowl that contained a fresh salad. There was something for everyone and plenty of it.
The beverage cart was located in one corner and it had several large silver dispensers containing sweet and unsweetened tea, coffee, and water. A matching bucket contained ice. On the floor was a metal ice chest with cokes of every kind. Outside on the back patio under the colored Christmas lights was the bar and more tables and chairs. Wine, beer and an assortment of spirits were available for those who wanted it. Festive plastic red and green highball glasses were available in short or tall styles. Of course, the wine drinkers got real wine glasses and the margarita crowd got the big Dixie tumblers with salted rims.
Mumzie insisted on several entrees for guests to enjoy and she and Bernice went all out this Christmas with shrimp because that’s the business that had blessed them so. Mexican food was included because that's what everyone loves, and Texas BBQ was added because that’s where we live.
Bernice hired Alma and Fletcher, who were her caregivers years ago when she miscarried. Bernice specifically located them and hired them to help with the Christmas Eve party. They both were happy to help. Their husbands dropped them off around noon. Bernice introduced the ladies to Mumzie and they hit it off splendidly.
Mumzie had made four matching holiday corsages out of holly, carnations, and red and green ribbons, one for each of the hostesses she said. All four ladies wore matching aprons to let guests know they were a team and their host.
Gary, Karen, and her parents entered the room. The kids were hoping to snatch a few cookies and a candy cane and disappear. When Gary saw the ladies from the seaside community he ran to them and hugged each one. He was so happy to see them and they were so happy to see him. Gary introduced Karen and her parents to Miss Alma and Miss Fletcher as he had been taught to do. Mumzie was pleased that he did it without having to be prompted. The sparkle in her eye showed her approval. Karen also noticed her happiness at that moment.
“We can’t stay long. We’re going to church here first. Then another party or two and then to St. James for the late candlelight Christmas service.” Karen explained as she told Miss Alma and Miss Fletcher it was nice meeting them and walked away with Gary as more guests arrived.
Alma and Fletcher helped with everything, especially the cooking. They maintained keeping all the tables fresh and full of food. Alma also took care of little spills and she mixed well with all the guests. Fletcher stayed busy in the kitchen staying a step ahead of what was being consumed. Everything was prepared and in trays in the oven. They mixed the shrimp cocktail sauces and placed it in the fridge. Sliced brisket and sausage were hot and warm and kept on the grill. Tamales in the oven. The ladies had inventory warm and ready for the next empty tray brought to the kitchen. They were on top of everything.
Mumzie enjoyed serving champagne in flute glasses to the guests. Alma and Fletcher would also ask if anyone wanted something to drink. This gave them a chance to meet the guests and have nice conversations. Alma and Fletcher were working, yes, but they were friends and guests too, encouraged to enjoy themselves and visit with everyone.
While they were preparing a fresh platter of shrimp in the kitchen Gary and the ladies had a chance to talk. The two of them laughed about the nasty wagon moment. Even Fletcher had to chuckle about that old story. Gary remembered his first time to the beach and the Portuguese Man O-War stinging that little girl and how Miss Shelby helped her, and of course he talked about Midnight the black German Shepherd that looks like a wolf. Gary asked the ladies about Mr. Brown and Miss Shelby and was told that they were living in Victoria. Mr. Brown was with the railroad. Soon more people arrived and everyone greeted everyone and Gary walked outside with Karen to turn on the Christmas lights..
Every nook and cranny throughout the house, inside and out, seemed to have a decoration of some sort. Shiny garland and greenery with red bows was uniformly strung about the walls below the ceiling, Christmas candles galore, holly and mistletoe were everywhere. The neighbors showed up and enjoyed themselves and left after an hour or so. There were many parties all over town to go too. People were coming and going.
“I’ve got to go now. I hope you have someone else to hang out with after I’m gone.” Karen said to Gary as she hugged him goodbye.
Merry Christmas, Gary.”
Merry Christmas, Karen.”
Karen followed her parents who had said their goodbyes. She turned to Gary and put her index finger to her lips reminding him of the secret. He made the same gesture as they smiled at each other. As Karen and her parents walked out more people arrived.
Buster’s friends and business associates stopped by and several gave him a box with a bow containing Tennessee whiskey, Georgia moonshine, or Jamaican rum. They too, visited for an hour or so, ate a little something, and they were off to another party somewhere. The second wave of people were now coming in after the early church services. Others were going to stop by several parties and this was one of the stops. Everyone had made different plans for this Christmas Eve. No one Gary’s age showed up after Karen and her family left. The rest of the family was there in the second wave. They would stay for the rest of the evening. Uncle JT and Aunt Flo brought Linda Lee and her husband Jimmy and their two young kiddos, Jamie and Laura Lee. They were years younger than Gary and they wanted to watch Christmas cartoons, color in the coloring book and play with toys in the back bedroom with a few other kids who arrived that were the same age. Dennis and Marilyn were gone, cousins like Johnny and Tommy were absent too. They were at parties with their high school age friends.
Jimmy became the self appointed bartender on the patio and he did a great job mixing drinks and telling jokes. Conn Brown and his wife showed up along with Peggy and her husband from the Bakery Cafe and some other people who knew Buster from his business. Lawyers, accountants, and even the local Ford dealer, Gary and his wife, were there, all good friends from Aransas Pass popped in to say Merry Christmas and enjoy the festive party.
All those folks were having a great time. It was wall to wall adults visiting, laughing, and eating with an occasional little one crying for attention or wanting a cookie. Gary didn’t have anyone to visit with. All the adults were talking with adults. The young ones were playing with the young ones. Gary became bored and the adults were loud.
It was after ten and the party was alive and well. It was crowded and some folks from the first wave of visitors returned. The volume seemed to be increasing along with the laughs and smiles. Gary grabbed a few cookies and a candy cane and hopped on his bike to ride around and look at Christmas decorations in the neighborhood. He knew he wouldn’t be missed. He didn’t worry about curfew either because law enforcement was with their families, right? It’s Christmas Eve.
Gary rode around for about half an hour enjoying the crisp cool evening. He rode down Wildcat to the bay. He looked out over the calm water and across it to the lights on the Corpus Christi skyline. The Harbor Bridge had lights and Dugat’s radio tower looked like a giant Christmas Tree. It was so nice, all quiet and peaceful.
As he rode back up Wildcat and into old town he noticed the county police car in the distance and he immediately ducked in between two large oleanders so he wouldn’t be seen. Suddenly Gary heard something behind him. He turned around while sitting on his bike and it was Vance Dawson on his bike riding towards the oleanders.
“Move over!” Vance whispered forcefully as he parked next to Gary with oleander limbs covering them. A few seconds went by and the police car parked 50 yards away and stayed parked in front of a vacant lot.
“What are you doing here . . on Christmas Eve?” Gary quietly asked Vance.
“My mother likes to play Sanny Clause, so I have to leave while she puts my presents under the tree. I was looking at the Christmas lights when I saw Watkins over there and here I am. I don’t think he saw us. He’s on his radio.” Vance answered.
“Why are you out on Christmas Eve?”
“My parents are having a party and it’s all adults or real small kids. No one my age, so I decided to ride around. Then I saw the squad car and hid here like you.” Gary answered.
“Look ! Oh no! Shhhhhh! It’s Duckworth. What’s he doing here?” Vance remarked as another officer arrived..
“Something is going on. Don’t move and stay quiet.”
Officer Duckworth is an old overweight county law enforcement official and he drove a 1953 white Cadillac with police lights on the fenders, spotlights on the front doors, a siren in the grill, and a red cherry police light in the center of his roof. He always wore a khaki uniform with a badge and he carried a gun, but none of the kids knew his exact position. He gave kids hell for being out after dark. Watkins did too.
Vance and Gary sat on their bicycle seats as they stood hidden in the oleanders. They could see the two officers who were now out of their vehicles talking to each other. A Lone Star Beer truck pulled up and parked behind the cruisers. The driver got out and shook hands with the officers.
The driver went to the side of his beer truck and raised the sliding door. What was inside surprised both Gary and Vance. The beer distributor handed a Santa Claus coat and hat to officer Watkins. He put it on, then he stepped into the oversize red britches. Officer Duckworth gave Watkins a pillow and he stuffed it inside his baggy trousers and against his belly and closed his red coat. Watkins pulled a fake white beard out of the coat pocket and put it on along with a Santa hat and proceeded to walk to their destination.
Vance and Gary looked at each other in dismay. Next the beer distributor handed Watkins a red bag with presents and the two men carried two tricycles and followed Santa Watkins. Together they walked over to the first house which was a modest home where a family lived. Watkins knocked on the door and with a “Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas!” He handed presents to the lady who opened the door. She was in shock and began to cry. Santa Watkins put his arm around her shoulder and consoled her. He handed her an envelope. The kids grabbed the presents and the small tricycles and went inside.
The three men went back to the beer truck and grabbed more gifts and went to the very next house and did the same thing. The second mom was also in tears. The children were overjoyed and the men of law were on a mission of good.
On that Christmas Eve two men from law enforcement and the Lone Star Beer guy delivered gifts to four houses in old town Portland. All the families had small children and were low income households. These three men, on Christmas Eve, made a big difference to four families who needed some love.
“I’ll never forget this as long as I live.” Gary said to Vance.
“This messes up everything.” Vance told Gary.
“How so? Those four homes were just blessed with gifts on Christmas Eve. This is a miracle for them.” Gary stated.
“No, not for them. I’m happy as hell that those kids got this surprise and those presents.” Vance replied.
“So how does this mess up everything?
“It was easy to hate Watkins and Duckworth for getting on us about curfew, using crosswalks, and bike safety because they were such dicks about it. Now I know they aren’t dicks at all. They’re good guys, really good guys. Shit! I can’t hate ‘em anymore. They just made four families so very happy tonight and nobody made them do it. Nobody knows they did it. They just did it. My whole attitude about those men has changed forever.” Vance explained.
“I was feeling sorry for myself because I had no one to be with then God let me see this Christmas miracle . . . and he let me see it with you. Wow. This wasn’t accidental, Dawson. We just saw a Christmas miracle come true for others. God made this happen.” Mott said.
“Maybe so . . . It does make me feel good inside.” Vance said.
“Yeah, me too,”
“I better get back now. I’m sure my mother is finished putting my stuff out. Merry Christmas, Mott.”
“Merry Christmas, Vance.”
The two boys slipped off into the quiet, dark, and peaceful Christmas Eve. They realized that they got the best Christmas gift ever, seeing what they saw tonight.
“Our Lady of Mount Carmel’s priest called Father Douglass yesterday at St. Christopher’s and asked if his congregation had any items to donate to new families who just arrived from Mexico. The phone chain kicked in, and I got the call from Susan Craig,” Lydia told the group of ladies of the infamous Shitay Club at her kitchen table. They were having their first martini.
“What do they need?” Bernice asked.
“Everything, clothes, furniture, lamps, kitchen duplicates… you name it, they could use it,” Lydia explained.
Immediately, the ladies started to make a list. Bernice chimed in first, saying that their business in Aransas Pass had taken in a new partner. With some of the money from the buy-in, she was going to get new beds and dressers and new drapes. She offered to donate the infamous bad luck bunk beds, and two twin beds, and one double bed. All were complete sets, mattresses, frames, headboards, and box springs plus two dressers.
“It must be nice to get new furniture!” Glenn said.
“It is! Just about everything we have came from friends and family, and we are grateful, too, but it will be nice to pick something new.”
“You’ve got to go to Braslau’s on Leopard. They have really nice stuff and a huge selection. They’re probably the best furniture store in the area,” Glenn stated.
“I bet they’re expensive, too,” Susan added.
“The good stuff always is,” Lydia replied.
The Shitay Club ladies ‘oohed and aahed’ at Bernice’s good fortune and made suggestions where Bernice could buy.
“Well, we have an extra kitchen table and six chairs,” Susan said.
“I’ve got a sofa in the garage under a blanket that I need to do something with,” Glenn commented.
“These lamps with seabirds need to go as well,” Lydia said, looking for a reason to replace them.
The next thing anyone knew was, the donations grew. The ladies would gather as much as they could. They decided everything donated would be washed and clean and in good condition. The new families would be showered with a cornucopia of agape love. The church families in this Portland neighborhood on Georgia Place answered the call.
One by one, the items were delivered to Mt. Carmel Catholic Church Parish Hall. Soon the hall was packed. Mr. Nardini donated two of his U-Haul rental trailers, at his expense, to help with deliveries. The Dawsons sent a bobtail truck from their Portland Lumber Yard. Men from the church, some with pickup trucks joined in. Soon, everything was loaded up with household goods, furniture, beds and kitchen items and delivered to their destinations.
Boy Scout Troop 20 and the new Troop 345 provided young labor as well, who even helped deliver. After one long Saturday, the community had come together and helped their new neighbors from across the river border.
A dozen or so families in Gregory and several in Portland benefitted from this generosity. A prayer was said before the loading and delivering, and the priest said all participants were living examples of God’s love.
“Feeling love and compassion isn’t the same as expressing love and compassion. Your labor expresses that,” the priest told the volunteers.
Donna Lea Anderson
Bio
Unforeseen Predator
The Adventurous Three
Author & Artist: Donna Lea Anderson
CHAPTER 1
A BUZZ IN THE GARAGE
It is springtime in the little town of Doolittle, Missouri and the trees are in full bloom. The sweet smells of wildflowers fill the air, and the cold, cold days of winter have melted away into the mother earth. The residents of Doolittle are happy to see old man winter leave and are ready for outdoor activities.
One morning while vacationing at her grandparents’ house, McKenna plays in the garage while Grandpa builds a much-needed closet for his man stuff: hammers, screwdrivers, and all kinds of tools. At age four, McKenna is a girly girl. She loves to sing and dance like a ballerina. This morning she wears her favorite pink tutu, which she pretty much wears every day.
With Grandpa occupied and focused on his project, McKenna jumps and swirls about throughout the garage. Round and round she goes, singing and dancing as only a little four-year-old can. Because of the open spaces and concrete floor in the garage, she can dance and do her thing, with not much around to get broken. And, of course, this makes Mimi and Grandpa oh-so-so happy.
While McKenna spins and swirls, Grandpa, standing on top of a small step ladder, calls out to her. He needs a tape measure from his toolbox sitting nearby and asks that she get it for him. McKenna says, sure, Grandpa, as she dances over and retrieves the tape measure. Carefully, she hands it up to him, and after doing so, she continues to watch him as he measures and begins to mark on the wall with a pencil. She asks herself, hum, why does my Grandpa get to draw on the wall and I don’t? Well, before she can call him out for marking on the wall, out of nowhere, something buzzes by her head, barely missing her little pug nose.
Whatever it is, it scares the heebie-jeebies out of her, and she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink since she had been taught to stay still and not move when something buzzes around her. For sure, those buzzing noises could be an angry mud-dauber, wasp, horse fly, or even a bumblebee. Being only four years old and not knowing the difference, she calls them angry bugs. Yes, indeed, whichever it may be, it gets her attention, and she doesn’t want it to sting her. So, as she stands in place and not budging an inch, she cries out to Grandpa.
“Is that an angry bug buzzing around me?”
Grandpa can see the fear in her eyes. He looks around the garage, but he doesn’t see anything dangerous. He tells her that she is safe and that it’s ok to continue singing and dancing. Satisfied that she is safe, she smiles and skips off singing and dancing from one side of the garage to the other.
Soon, Mimi comes out from the backdoor; and before heading back inside she leaves cold water for Grandpa and juice for McKenna on the steps. Grandpa continues to work while McKenna stops to rest. While sitting on the steps and in between gulps of the cold refreshing juice, she watches as her Grandpa works, banging away with a hammer. When the hammer hits the nail, the noise is really-really-really loud. So, she sticks her little fingers into her ears, trying to drown out the noise. But those little fingers aren’t helping much as the Bang! Bang! Bang! echoes throughout the garage.
While McKenna sips down the last few drops of juice, the hammering stops when Grandpa shouts out, “Ouch.” Whoops, it seems the hammer has caused him great pain; yikes, it slipped off a nailhead and hit his thumb. Grandpa grits his teeth, and with little ears listening from the backdoor steps, he knows that he has to choose his words very carefully. In great pain, he hollers out, “Oh my Goodness, Oh my Goodness, Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” He begins to shake his hand back and forth, trying to ease the pain, but it doesn’t help much.
McKenna hops up and runs over to comfort her Grandpa. Standing close to the step ladder, she looks up and asks, “Are you ok, Grandpa? Do you have a boo-boo now?” With tears in his eyes and being the tough guy he needs to portray, he isn’t going to let some minor thumb injury stop him from working on his project. So, he rubs his bright red thumb and assures McKenna that he is alright, returning to his task. As for McKenna, she returns to the steps where she continues to rest and listen to Grandpa making a lot of noise with his hammer.
Once he has successfully plugged in a few more nails, he stops to use his ruler again, making sure his measurements are correct. While doing this, the garage becomes silent until McKenna begins to hear the buzzing noises again, and this time it is coming from above. She can’t believe her eyes; there, in the ceiling area, are two tiny hummingbirds swarming around.
They are trapped.
McKenna jumps to her feet and screams out, “Look, Grandpa! It’s two hummingbirds.”
Startled by her scream Grandpa holds on tight to the stepladder. It wibble-wobbles back and forth. Oh boy, this is serious. The ladder is balancing on two legs, and Grandpa is close to falling over, ladder and all. Soon, he secures the ladder on all four legs and makes his way down.
He is not happy at all. Once his boots hit the garage floor, he scolds Mckenna for screaming out and almost causing him to fall. Her little bottom lip begins to pucker and quiver.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m just a little girl. I’m so sorry.”
He sees that he is too abrupt as he watches his little ballerina begin to cry. Feeling like a jerk, he takes his precious granddaughter into his arms, gives her a little kiss on the cheek, and apologizes. As he wipes the tears from her face, he begins to explain why he got mad.
Immediately, she points up to the ceiling, showing him why she screamed. Like McKenna, he can’t believe what he sees: two hummingbirds buzzing around trying to find their way out of the garage.
“Do we need to help them, Grandpa?”
Grandpa tells her not to worry. Eventually, they will find their way out and return to their home outside, reuniting with their family. He also says, “If they can find their way into the garage, they will find their way out. We have to leave them alone, and hopefully, God will show them the way.”
After a few more hugs and kisses, Grandpa heads up the ladder again and continues with his work, and McKenna goes about her business of playing.
Throughout the day, she checks on the tiny hummingbirds and unfortunately they continue to swarm around in the ceiling and are unable to escape.
Later that afternoon, Grandpa and McKenna head into the house for dinner. Grandpa decides to leave the garage doors open, praying that the hummingbirds will eventually find their way out of the garage.
Once the family has sat down for dinner, of course, most of the conversation is mainly about the little hummingbirds. With a fabulous meal before her, McKenna scarfs down the mac-and-cheese Mimi made especially for her. With her plate clean, she is anxious and eager to get back to the garage and check on the little birds. But, not so fast. She now has to wait for Grandpa to finish his meal and the wait may be a long one since Grandpa is a slow eater. So, with Grandpa eating slower than molasses pouring out of a bottle, and with he and Mimi discussing nothing more than the new garage closet. McKenna becomes impatient wiggling about in her chair. She needs to put a plan in place to get Grandpa moving. She may be only four but she is wise beyond her years using her psychology skills, which she didn’t realize she had.
When Grandpa takes a bite of food and before taking another, she asks non-stop if he is finished. Pretty smart move McKenna, as Grandpa finally gives up. He drops his fork, saying, “Yes, McKenna, I’m done; let’s go check on the little guys.”
Upon entering the garage, McKenna becomes delighted when she doesn’t hear or see them. A big smile covers her face, and she begins to clap her hands, jumping up and down celebrating. Joyfully she shouts, “They made it out, Grandpa, they made it out, didn’t they. Yip-pee!”
The celebration doesn’t last long. Grandpa spots one resting, perched on a wire that plugs into a ceiling outlet coming from the garage door opener’s motor. The tiny hummingbird flies around the garage several times, making many attempts to find his way out, but can’t seem to do so. Unable to get out of the garage, he always makes his way back to the wire, where he catches his breath before giving it another try.
While the little guy takes a rest, Grandpa has McKenna keep an eye on him. He walks around the garage, searching for the other, looking in all four corners. With the other one nowhere to be found, he determines that he must have made it out, leaving the other behind.
With it getting late, Grandpa is too tired to search further, and it seems McKenna is tired also. She yawns and rubs her eyes. It’s time to call it a day, and the one left behind will have to spend the night in the garage.
So, Grandpa reaches over and pushes a button on the wall closing the garage doors. He promises McKenna that he will open them again first thing in the morning, giving the little guy another opportunity to escape.
CHAPTER 2
THE RESCUE OF HUMMIE
The next morning McKenna is up at the crack of dawn. As soon as her little bare feet hit the floor, she clips her pink bow into her hair, grabs that favorite pink tutu, and slips it on over her pajama bottoms. Once she’s got it up, she runs down the hallway because it’s now time to get Grandpa up.
After entering her grandparents’ bedroom and trying not to disturb her Mimi, she tippy-toes over to Grandpa’s side of the bed. She tugs and pulls on his arm, insisting that he get up so they can check on the hummingbird. Still half asleep, Grandpa tells McKenna to wait for him in the hallway, and then he struggles to get to his feet. Once standing, he runs his fingers through his hair and then slips on his pants. After joining McKenna in the hallway, they make their way towards the garage. Grandpa is amazed by all of the energy his granddaughter has. She is bouncing off the walls, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, full of excitement and wanting to get to the back garage door as fast as she can.
When the garage doors open, they find the tiny hummingbird still sitting on the wire where they last saw him. It looks like his eyes are closed, and for some reason, his head is slumped over. He is not swarming about fluttering his bright yellow and green wings!
McKenna whispers because she thinks he is asleep, but Grandpa has his doubts and worries about him. Concerned, he has her keep a close eye on him while he sets up for his garage project.
Twenty minutes pass; Grandpa notices that the bird has not even moved an inch. He decides that it is time to get a tall ladder, climb up, and get a closer look at him. Trying not to scare his little ballerina, he gets her involved. Her job is to help carry the ladder and then hold it while Grandpa climbs up to check.
With McKenna watching from below, Grandpa finally reaches the top of the ladder and moves very carefully, trying not to spook the little guy. Once he sees the severe condition of the hummingbird, he mumbles under his breath, “Aw, little guy, you’re so much worse than I anticipated.”
McKenna calls out, “What’s wrong, Grandpa?”
“Bad news, sweet girl. It looks like he is sick. Please hold the ladder steady, and I’ll bring him down so we can give him some medicine.”
McKenna says, “Ok, Grandpa, I’ll hold the ladder.”
Gently, he cups the little guy into the palm of his hand and begins to make his way down. Once he has both feet on the ground, he squats down in front of McKenna. This is the first time she has ever seen a hummingbird up close, and she is in awe. She can’t believe how small the little guy is. She watches closely as Grandpa attempts to get him to move.
Sadly, his little body remains limp. Grandpa even tries to hold his little head up, but it continues to slump back over to one side. He is not doing good at all and needs help immediately.
McKenna says, “He is really sick, isn’t he, Grandpa?”
Grandpa replies, “He sure is my sweet granddaughter. It seems he exhausted himself yesterday and during the night trying to get out of the garage.”
When McKenna begins to tear up, Grandpa tells her that he believes that the little guy needs medicine which is nothing more than nourishment. He has her sit on the concrete floor and stick her index finger out. Soon the little hummingbird is perched on her finger and holds on for dear life!
Grandpa tells her not to get up and move about until he returns. “Okay, Grandpa,” she says. “No worries. I got this.”
Grandpa dashes into the house. In charge of the situation, McKenna is overwhelmed with her motherly feelings. She comforts the little guy, gently stroking his limp body, and in a tender and quiet voice, she assures him everything is going to be ok.
While caring for him she gives him a name: “Hummie.”
Back inside the house Grandpa knows that he doesn’t have any medicine to help the little guy or even flower nectar to give. The closest thing will have to be sugar water, which he makes up into a small bowl. Not sure the little guy will even drink it, Grandpa knows this is the only chance to save his life.
Once he has the sugar dissolved into the water, he returns to the garage. McKenna is still sitting where he left her.
With her being only four, Grandpa is proud to find that his little ballerina obeyed. It seems her sweet and soft-spoken words of affection are doing more good for the little guy than he expected. As he makes his way over to them, he hears McKenna call her new little friend, “Hummie.”
With sugar water in hand, Grandpa squats down.
“McKenna, how’s your new little friend Hummie doing?”
“Not good, Grandpa, not good.”
“Well, maybe this medicine will help.”
He holds the bowl in front of Hummie, close to his long bill, but Hummie doesn’t sniff or take a drink. Next, Grandpa brings the bowl up closer, immersing his bill into the medicine. He still doesn’t drink.
McKenna begins to cry. “He’s not drinking the medicine, Grandpa. Is he going to die? Don’t let him die, Grandpa, please don’t let him die.”
Grandpa has to think fast. There seems to be only one other thing to do that may work: hand-feed Hummie.
“How are you going to do that, Grandpa?”
“I’m not. You are.”
Her eyes light up, and a big smile covers her entire face.
Grandpa asks, “Are you able to do the job?”
“You betcha, Grandpa. Can I really feed him, can I?”
“Absolutely. Just listen and follow my instructions.”
Once he has helped McKenna to her feet, he has her dip her little pinky finger into the mixture, and after a few dips, she holds her finger up to his bill.
Within seconds Hummie’s long tongue shoots out and he begins to lick the medicine from her finger. He loves the medicine Grandpa has made as he slurps it non-stop. Yum! Yum! Yum!
Soon, McKenna begins to giggle. Grandpa starts laughing too.
Victory! Yahoo! This has become an exciting and happy moment for them both; they have succeeded in giving Hummie the nourishment and attention he needed. Before their very eyes, he begins to perk up, and when he has had enough of the medicine, his head is no longer slumping to one side. He is not even afraid of McKenna and her Grandpa, as he begins to make sweet chirping noises.
Yes, God is good because Hummie is feeling much, much better now. With his belly full of sugar water and starting to flutter his wings, he continues to grip the index finger of his surrogate mother, McKenna.
CHAPTER 3
HUMMIE MOVES ON
With Hummie recovering, it seems he is not ready to fly yet and by the look on McKenna’s face, Grandpa knows that she will want to keep him. He quickly shares with her some of what he knows about hummingbirds.
“They migrate from South America and fly to North America. Since the journey is long and tiring, some catch a ride on the backs of much larger birds that are also migrating north.”
McKenna laughs. “You mean they ride piggy-back, Grandpa?”
Grandpa replies, “Well, I never thought of it that way, but I guess they do. Some eventually find their way here to Doolittle, Missouri, where they make their home in the trees. They survive on nectar that comes from beautiful flowers on the ground. Yes, the nectar gives them energy and makes them strong so they can swarm through the air from one flower to the next.” He also mentions that they are the world’s smallest birds with some weighing less than a penny and can live three to five years.
With so much more to say about Hummingbirds and not wanting to overwhelm McKenna with too much information, Grandpa begins to talk about Hummie again.
Since she is only four, Grandpa has three questions for McKenna and he wants her to listen very carefully to each one.
“You know Hummie got trapped in our garage and couldn’t get out?”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
“You know his family is waiting for his return?”
“Yes, Grandpa”
And his third question. “You know, keeping Hummie as a pet would be sad for his family. So what do you think we should do, McKenna?”
Little teardrops begin to fall down her face, and with a puckered lip, she takes a few minutes thinking about the last question. While Grandpa patiently waits for her answer, she looks at Hummie and then back up at him.
With a sad face, she tells him. You know Grandpa, I really wished I could keep him because I love him, but I know I can’t because I’m sure his family loves and misses him too. Just like you would miss me if I were lost. Isn’t that right, Grandpa?
“Oh yes, my sweet granddaughter, I sure would miss you.”
With Hummie still perched on her finger, McKenna and her Grandpa walk out of the garage. McKenna swirls her little hand around and around, trying to get Hummie to fly off, but he doesn’t budge. His body bobs up and down. His tiny wings flutter as if he wants to fly, but he doesn’t have the courage since he has been through so much.
McKenna encourages him. “Go home, Hummie, fly home to your family, please, please go home.”
Grandpa runs back into the garage and brings out the bowl of sugar water. McKenna offers Hummie a few more licks. He licks once; he licks twice, and then before the third lick, Hummie seems to know it’s ok to fly off. Like a rocket, he shoots up in the air and then back down, swarming around McKenna a couple of times before darting off and out of sight.
Hummie may be out of sight, but he still has his eyes on McKenna and her Grandpa. Out of nowhere, he’s back, and within seconds the little guy shoots back into the garage. McKenna begins to cry as she screams out, “Oh no, Hummie, come out, come out.”
As fast as he went into the garage, he comes out. This time he flies across the yard and down the road, disappearing into some tall oak trees.
McKenna’s desperate tears become happy tears. She claps her hands and jumps up and down with excitement. Grandpa picks her up, wipes the tears from her face, and before he can say anything, again Hummie returns. Yep, he’s back.
Grandpa puts McKenna down and watches as he hovers in front of her face, and it seems he has a message for his surrogate mother.
As Hummie chirps, hovering in place, McKenna holds out her finger, but he doesn’t take hold; he just flutters his wings, chirping one chirp after another. McKenna tells Grandpa, I think he is trying to say thank you for helping him and for setting him free to be with his family.
Grandpa smiles. “Maybe so sweet girl, maybe so.”
Soon, the chirping stops, and Hummie flies off again. McKenna and Grandpa wave goodbye. He disappears into the distant trees down the road, and this time he doesn’t return. McKenna glances up at her Grandpa and says, “Grandpa, I did a good thing, didn’t I?”
Grandpa picks her up, smiles, and says, “Yes, my sweet girl, you did a good thing.”
Before he puts her down, she gives him a big kiss on the cheek along with a strong, grizzly hug.
Well, with Hummie free from the garage and back with his family, Grandpa lowers McKenna to the ground. Once her feet hit the pavement, she takes off singing and dancing like a ballerina, and Grandpa returns to his project, putting those finishing touches on that much-needed garage closet.
The End
Author & Artist: Donna Lea Anderson
CHAPTER 1
A BUZZ IN THE GARAGE
It is springtime in the little town of Doolittle, Missouri and the trees are in full bloom. The sweet smells of wildflowers fill the air, and the cold, cold days of winter have melted away into the mother earth. The residents of Doolittle are happy to see old man winter leave and are ready for outdoor activities.
One morning while vacationing at her grandparents’ house, McKenna plays in the garage while Grandpa builds a much-needed closet for his man stuff: hammers, screwdrivers, and all kinds of tools. At age four, McKenna is a girly girl. She loves to sing and dance like a ballerina. This morning she wears her favorite pink tutu, which she pretty much wears every day.
With Grandpa occupied and focused on his project, McKenna jumps and swirls about throughout the garage. Round and round she goes, singing and dancing as only a little four-year-old can. Because of the open spaces and concrete floor in the garage, she can dance and do her thing, with not much around to get broken. And, of course, this makes Mimi and Grandpa oh-so-so happy.
While McKenna spins and swirls, Grandpa, standing on top of a small step ladder, calls out to her. He needs a tape measure from his toolbox sitting nearby and asks that she get it for him. McKenna says, sure, Grandpa, as she dances over and retrieves the tape measure. Carefully, she hands it up to him, and after doing so, she continues to watch him as he measures and begins to mark on the wall with a pencil. She asks herself, hum, why does my Grandpa get to draw on the wall and I don’t? Well, before she can call him out for marking on the wall, out of nowhere, something buzzes by her head, barely missing her little pug nose.
Whatever it is, it scares the heebie-jeebies out of her, and she doesn’t move. She doesn’t even blink since she had been taught to stay still and not move when something buzzes around her. For sure, those buzzing noises could be an angry mud-dauber, wasp, horse fly, or even a bumblebee. Being only four years old and not knowing the difference, she calls them angry bugs. Yes, indeed, whichever it may be, it gets her attention, and she doesn’t want it to sting her. So, as she stands in place and not budging an inch, she cries out to Grandpa.
“Is that an angry bug buzzing around me?”
Grandpa can see the fear in her eyes. He looks around the garage, but he doesn’t see anything dangerous. He tells her that she is safe and that it’s ok to continue singing and dancing. Satisfied that she is safe, she smiles and skips off singing and dancing from one side of the garage to the other.
Soon, Mimi comes out from the backdoor; and before heading back inside she leaves cold water for Grandpa and juice for McKenna on the steps. Grandpa continues to work while McKenna stops to rest. While sitting on the steps and in between gulps of the cold refreshing juice, she watches as her Grandpa works, banging away with a hammer. When the hammer hits the nail, the noise is really-really-really loud. So, she sticks her little fingers into her ears, trying to drown out the noise. But those little fingers aren’t helping much as the Bang! Bang! Bang! echoes throughout the garage.
While McKenna sips down the last few drops of juice, the hammering stops when Grandpa shouts out, “Ouch.” Whoops, it seems the hammer has caused him great pain; yikes, it slipped off a nailhead and hit his thumb. Grandpa grits his teeth, and with little ears listening from the backdoor steps, he knows that he has to choose his words very carefully. In great pain, he hollers out, “Oh my Goodness, Oh my Goodness, Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” He begins to shake his hand back and forth, trying to ease the pain, but it doesn’t help much.
McKenna hops up and runs over to comfort her Grandpa. Standing close to the step ladder, she looks up and asks, “Are you ok, Grandpa? Do you have a boo-boo now?” With tears in his eyes and being the tough guy he needs to portray, he isn’t going to let some minor thumb injury stop him from working on his project. So, he rubs his bright red thumb and assures McKenna that he is alright, returning to his task. As for McKenna, she returns to the steps where she continues to rest and listen to Grandpa making a lot of noise with his hammer.
Once he has successfully plugged in a few more nails, he stops to use his ruler again, making sure his measurements are correct. While doing this, the garage becomes silent until McKenna begins to hear the buzzing noises again, and this time it is coming from above. She can’t believe her eyes; there, in the ceiling area, are two tiny hummingbirds swarming around.
They are trapped.
McKenna jumps to her feet and screams out, “Look, Grandpa! It’s two hummingbirds.”
Startled by her scream Grandpa holds on tight to the stepladder. It wibble-wobbles back and forth. Oh boy, this is serious. The ladder is balancing on two legs, and Grandpa is close to falling over, ladder and all. Soon, he secures the ladder on all four legs and makes his way down.
He is not happy at all. Once his boots hit the garage floor, he scolds Mckenna for screaming out and almost causing him to fall. Her little bottom lip begins to pucker and quiver.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m just a little girl. I’m so sorry.”
He sees that he is too abrupt as he watches his little ballerina begin to cry. Feeling like a jerk, he takes his precious granddaughter into his arms, gives her a little kiss on the cheek, and apologizes. As he wipes the tears from her face, he begins to explain why he got mad.
Immediately, she points up to the ceiling, showing him why she screamed. Like McKenna, he can’t believe what he sees: two hummingbirds buzzing around trying to find their way out of the garage.
“Do we need to help them, Grandpa?”
Grandpa tells her not to worry. Eventually, they will find their way out and return to their home outside, reuniting with their family. He also says, “If they can find their way into the garage, they will find their way out. We have to leave them alone, and hopefully, God will show them the way.”
After a few more hugs and kisses, Grandpa heads up the ladder again and continues with his work, and McKenna goes about her business of playing.
Throughout the day, she checks on the tiny hummingbirds and unfortunately they continue to swarm around in the ceiling and are unable to escape.
Later that afternoon, Grandpa and McKenna head into the house for dinner. Grandpa decides to leave the garage doors open, praying that the hummingbirds will eventually find their way out of the garage.
Once the family has sat down for dinner, of course, most of the conversation is mainly about the little hummingbirds. With a fabulous meal before her, McKenna scarfs down the mac-and-cheese Mimi made especially for her. With her plate clean, she is anxious and eager to get back to the garage and check on the little birds. But, not so fast. She now has to wait for Grandpa to finish his meal and the wait may be a long one since Grandpa is a slow eater. So, with Grandpa eating slower than molasses pouring out of a bottle, and with he and Mimi discussing nothing more than the new garage closet. McKenna becomes impatient wiggling about in her chair. She needs to put a plan in place to get Grandpa moving. She may be only four but she is wise beyond her years using her psychology skills, which she didn’t realize she had.
When Grandpa takes a bite of food and before taking another, she asks non-stop if he is finished. Pretty smart move McKenna, as Grandpa finally gives up. He drops his fork, saying, “Yes, McKenna, I’m done; let’s go check on the little guys.”
Upon entering the garage, McKenna becomes delighted when she doesn’t hear or see them. A big smile covers her face, and she begins to clap her hands, jumping up and down celebrating. Joyfully she shouts, “They made it out, Grandpa, they made it out, didn’t they. Yip-pee!”
The celebration doesn’t last long. Grandpa spots one resting, perched on a wire that plugs into a ceiling outlet coming from the garage door opener’s motor. The tiny hummingbird flies around the garage several times, making many attempts to find his way out, but can’t seem to do so. Unable to get out of the garage, he always makes his way back to the wire, where he catches his breath before giving it another try.
While the little guy takes a rest, Grandpa has McKenna keep an eye on him. He walks around the garage, searching for the other, looking in all four corners. With the other one nowhere to be found, he determines that he must have made it out, leaving the other behind.
With it getting late, Grandpa is too tired to search further, and it seems McKenna is tired also. She yawns and rubs her eyes. It’s time to call it a day, and the one left behind will have to spend the night in the garage.
So, Grandpa reaches over and pushes a button on the wall closing the garage doors. He promises McKenna that he will open them again first thing in the morning, giving the little guy another opportunity to escape.
CHAPTER 2
THE RESCUE OF HUMMIE
The next morning McKenna is up at the crack of dawn. As soon as her little bare feet hit the floor, she clips her pink bow into her hair, grabs that favorite pink tutu, and slips it on over her pajama bottoms. Once she’s got it up, she runs down the hallway because it’s now time to get Grandpa up.
After entering her grandparents’ bedroom and trying not to disturb her Mimi, she tippy-toes over to Grandpa’s side of the bed. She tugs and pulls on his arm, insisting that he get up so they can check on the hummingbird. Still half asleep, Grandpa tells McKenna to wait for him in the hallway, and then he struggles to get to his feet. Once standing, he runs his fingers through his hair and then slips on his pants. After joining McKenna in the hallway, they make their way towards the garage. Grandpa is amazed by all of the energy his granddaughter has. She is bouncing off the walls, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, full of excitement and wanting to get to the back garage door as fast as she can.
When the garage doors open, they find the tiny hummingbird still sitting on the wire where they last saw him. It looks like his eyes are closed, and for some reason, his head is slumped over. He is not swarming about fluttering his bright yellow and green wings!
McKenna whispers because she thinks he is asleep, but Grandpa has his doubts and worries about him. Concerned, he has her keep a close eye on him while he sets up for his garage project.
Twenty minutes pass; Grandpa notices that the bird has not even moved an inch. He decides that it is time to get a tall ladder, climb up, and get a closer look at him. Trying not to scare his little ballerina, he gets her involved. Her job is to help carry the ladder and then hold it while Grandpa climbs up to check.
With McKenna watching from below, Grandpa finally reaches the top of the ladder and moves very carefully, trying not to spook the little guy. Once he sees the severe condition of the hummingbird, he mumbles under his breath, “Aw, little guy, you’re so much worse than I anticipated.”
McKenna calls out, “What’s wrong, Grandpa?”
“Bad news, sweet girl. It looks like he is sick. Please hold the ladder steady, and I’ll bring him down so we can give him some medicine.”
McKenna says, “Ok, Grandpa, I’ll hold the ladder.”
Gently, he cups the little guy into the palm of his hand and begins to make his way down. Once he has both feet on the ground, he squats down in front of McKenna. This is the first time she has ever seen a hummingbird up close, and she is in awe. She can’t believe how small the little guy is. She watches closely as Grandpa attempts to get him to move.
Sadly, his little body remains limp. Grandpa even tries to hold his little head up, but it continues to slump back over to one side. He is not doing good at all and needs help immediately.
McKenna says, “He is really sick, isn’t he, Grandpa?”
Grandpa replies, “He sure is my sweet granddaughter. It seems he exhausted himself yesterday and during the night trying to get out of the garage.”
When McKenna begins to tear up, Grandpa tells her that he believes that the little guy needs medicine which is nothing more than nourishment. He has her sit on the concrete floor and stick her index finger out. Soon the little hummingbird is perched on her finger and holds on for dear life!
Grandpa tells her not to get up and move about until he returns. “Okay, Grandpa,” she says. “No worries. I got this.”
Grandpa dashes into the house. In charge of the situation, McKenna is overwhelmed with her motherly feelings. She comforts the little guy, gently stroking his limp body, and in a tender and quiet voice, she assures him everything is going to be ok.
While caring for him she gives him a name: “Hummie.”
Back inside the house Grandpa knows that he doesn’t have any medicine to help the little guy or even flower nectar to give. The closest thing will have to be sugar water, which he makes up into a small bowl. Not sure the little guy will even drink it, Grandpa knows this is the only chance to save his life.
Once he has the sugar dissolved into the water, he returns to the garage. McKenna is still sitting where he left her.
With her being only four, Grandpa is proud to find that his little ballerina obeyed. It seems her sweet and soft-spoken words of affection are doing more good for the little guy than he expected. As he makes his way over to them, he hears McKenna call her new little friend, “Hummie.”
With sugar water in hand, Grandpa squats down.
“McKenna, how’s your new little friend Hummie doing?”
“Not good, Grandpa, not good.”
“Well, maybe this medicine will help.”
He holds the bowl in front of Hummie, close to his long bill, but Hummie doesn’t sniff or take a drink. Next, Grandpa brings the bowl up closer, immersing his bill into the medicine. He still doesn’t drink.
McKenna begins to cry. “He’s not drinking the medicine, Grandpa. Is he going to die? Don’t let him die, Grandpa, please don’t let him die.”
Grandpa has to think fast. There seems to be only one other thing to do that may work: hand-feed Hummie.
“How are you going to do that, Grandpa?”
“I’m not. You are.”
Her eyes light up, and a big smile covers her entire face.
Grandpa asks, “Are you able to do the job?”
“You betcha, Grandpa. Can I really feed him, can I?”
“Absolutely. Just listen and follow my instructions.”
Once he has helped McKenna to her feet, he has her dip her little pinky finger into the mixture, and after a few dips, she holds her finger up to his bill.
Within seconds Hummie’s long tongue shoots out and he begins to lick the medicine from her finger. He loves the medicine Grandpa has made as he slurps it non-stop. Yum! Yum! Yum!
Soon, McKenna begins to giggle. Grandpa starts laughing too.
Victory! Yahoo! This has become an exciting and happy moment for them both; they have succeeded in giving Hummie the nourishment and attention he needed. Before their very eyes, he begins to perk up, and when he has had enough of the medicine, his head is no longer slumping to one side. He is not even afraid of McKenna and her Grandpa, as he begins to make sweet chirping noises.
Yes, God is good because Hummie is feeling much, much better now. With his belly full of sugar water and starting to flutter his wings, he continues to grip the index finger of his surrogate mother, McKenna.
CHAPTER 3
HUMMIE MOVES ON
With Hummie recovering, it seems he is not ready to fly yet and by the look on McKenna’s face, Grandpa knows that she will want to keep him. He quickly shares with her some of what he knows about hummingbirds.
“They migrate from South America and fly to North America. Since the journey is long and tiring, some catch a ride on the backs of much larger birds that are also migrating north.”
McKenna laughs. “You mean they ride piggy-back, Grandpa?”
Grandpa replies, “Well, I never thought of it that way, but I guess they do. Some eventually find their way here to Doolittle, Missouri, where they make their home in the trees. They survive on nectar that comes from beautiful flowers on the ground. Yes, the nectar gives them energy and makes them strong so they can swarm through the air from one flower to the next.” He also mentions that they are the world’s smallest birds with some weighing less than a penny and can live three to five years.
With so much more to say about Hummingbirds and not wanting to overwhelm McKenna with too much information, Grandpa begins to talk about Hummie again.
Since she is only four, Grandpa has three questions for McKenna and he wants her to listen very carefully to each one.
“You know Hummie got trapped in our garage and couldn’t get out?”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
“You know his family is waiting for his return?”
“Yes, Grandpa”
And his third question. “You know, keeping Hummie as a pet would be sad for his family. So what do you think we should do, McKenna?”
Little teardrops begin to fall down her face, and with a puckered lip, she takes a few minutes thinking about the last question. While Grandpa patiently waits for her answer, she looks at Hummie and then back up at him.
With a sad face, she tells him. You know Grandpa, I really wished I could keep him because I love him, but I know I can’t because I’m sure his family loves and misses him too. Just like you would miss me if I were lost. Isn’t that right, Grandpa?
“Oh yes, my sweet granddaughter, I sure would miss you.”
With Hummie still perched on her finger, McKenna and her Grandpa walk out of the garage. McKenna swirls her little hand around and around, trying to get Hummie to fly off, but he doesn’t budge. His body bobs up and down. His tiny wings flutter as if he wants to fly, but he doesn’t have the courage since he has been through so much.
McKenna encourages him. “Go home, Hummie, fly home to your family, please, please go home.”
Grandpa runs back into the garage and brings out the bowl of sugar water. McKenna offers Hummie a few more licks. He licks once; he licks twice, and then before the third lick, Hummie seems to know it’s ok to fly off. Like a rocket, he shoots up in the air and then back down, swarming around McKenna a couple of times before darting off and out of sight.
Hummie may be out of sight, but he still has his eyes on McKenna and her Grandpa. Out of nowhere, he’s back, and within seconds the little guy shoots back into the garage. McKenna begins to cry as she screams out, “Oh no, Hummie, come out, come out.”
As fast as he went into the garage, he comes out. This time he flies across the yard and down the road, disappearing into some tall oak trees.
McKenna’s desperate tears become happy tears. She claps her hands and jumps up and down with excitement. Grandpa picks her up, wipes the tears from her face, and before he can say anything, again Hummie returns. Yep, he’s back.
Grandpa puts McKenna down and watches as he hovers in front of her face, and it seems he has a message for his surrogate mother.
As Hummie chirps, hovering in place, McKenna holds out her finger, but he doesn’t take hold; he just flutters his wings, chirping one chirp after another. McKenna tells Grandpa, I think he is trying to say thank you for helping him and for setting him free to be with his family.
Grandpa smiles. “Maybe so sweet girl, maybe so.”
Soon, the chirping stops, and Hummie flies off again. McKenna and Grandpa wave goodbye. He disappears into the distant trees down the road, and this time he doesn’t return. McKenna glances up at her Grandpa and says, “Grandpa, I did a good thing, didn’t I?”
Grandpa picks her up, smiles, and says, “Yes, my sweet girl, you did a good thing.”
Before he puts her down, she gives him a big kiss on the cheek along with a strong, grizzly hug.
Well, with Hummie free from the garage and back with his family, Grandpa lowers McKenna to the ground. Once her feet hit the pavement, she takes off singing and dancing like a ballerina, and Grandpa returns to his project, putting those finishing touches on that much-needed garage closet.
The End