smalltownlady: Fifteen Minutes Of Fiction

Jenny

After what seemed like forever, Jenny’s dad came out of the house and got in the car. He didn’t speak or even look at Jenny. He just started the car and headed for the hospital.
“Dad, what’s happening?” said Jenny. “Mary Helen wouldn’t even talk to me. Is she o.k.? What happened last night anyway?”
“You really don’t know?” replied her father.
“No, no, I don’t know. I got here, at Mary Helen’s, just before I called you last night. Mary Helen wasn’t home yet and her folks asked me if I had seen her after the dance. I hadn’t seen her. She must have left before the dance was over because I didn’t see her as we were leaving. Brad and I didn’t go to Burger Shack, we just drove around awhile and then he brought me here.”
Jenny knew she was withholding a little information from her dad, but nothing that had any bearing on Mary Helen. She didn’t know how to tell him she was going steady with Brad when everything seemed so chaotic.
“Well,” said her father, “it seems that your friend and some other kids went out to the lake and had themselves a beer party. They started a bonfire and one of the rangers noticed it. When he went to check he saw the kids dancing around the fire and drinking beer and throwing beer cans everywhere. Apparently he called the local police and they came and broke up the party and took all the kids down to juvenile hall. It took the better part of the night for all the parents to be notified and to do all the necessary paperwork to release them to their parents’ custody. It’s good Mary Helen’s parents grounded her. I don’t want you to associate with her anymore. She’ll probably grow up and be fine. Nonetheless, this kind of behavior sometimes leads to much worse things. Jenny, you tell me the truth, have you ever been involved in a party like that?”

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Theirs and Ours

On this great North American continent, theirs and ours have always been in opposition. First the continent was theirs, the Native American people, then we made it ours. Unlike conquered people of history, we did not assimilate them into our culture. Rather, we isolated them onto tracts of mostly undesirable lands and told them to make those lands theirs. We subsidized folks based on their ethnicity and where they lived. We pay them, to stay in their place. When one of them breaks into mainstream American society, we take away their government subsidies. Does that make them, then, ours?

After a 125 years or so of this treatment, they are now relegating us to our place. We can go on their lands and enjoy their hunting, fishing, scenic beauty, if we pay their admission fee, buy their licenses, and hire their guides. They have seriously impacted New Jersey and Nevada gambling by building their own casinos on their lands. We flock by the millions and lay down our cash in their establishments. They profit; we go home broke.

Once we forced their children into our boarding schools to teach them our language, our religions, our cultures. Today many of them teach their children their traditions, culture, languages, and religions.

How ironic, that we citizens of the United States have enforced segregation upon the Native Americans at the same time that we have passed laws to incorporate ethnic groups into mainstream life in this country. Are we the only country in the world to embrace Native Americans, African Americans, Mexican Americans, You name it Americans and call us united. Will we ever get beyond the labels and just become Americans.

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Almost NonFiction

Almost Non-Fiction

Scents of bleach and vinegar permeate the house. All the kitchen and bathroom surfaces shine. In the kitchen the freshly cleaned oven awaits the goodies that will be stuffed into it for preparation of a Thanksgiving feast. Everything sparkles or gleams, the polished furniture, the clear windows, the swept front porch and sidewalk. The holidays arrive with Thanksgiving.
For some folks, Thanksgiving begins Christmas. Not so in our house. Thanksgiving is a holiday unto itself. After the ritual cleaning, Mom begins the meal preparations. She’s dried the bread for the stuffing. A turkey thaws in the refrigerator. Mom irons the last Irish linen napkin and reflects on Thanksgivings past. The tablecloth and napkins have graced the family table for as many years as she can remember. She sets the table for her family and guests. Each year someone arrives for dinner who might, otherwise, have no special meal. Mom’s sister is bringing her family of four. This year Dad invited two fellows from his workplace who have no family in town. Mom basks in gratitude that her family is willing and able to share the holiday meal with others. By evening the table is set, the pies are made, and the ingredients for the dressing are assembled.
Early Thanksgiving morning Mom prepares her dressing for the turkey. She uses the bread cubes, celery and onions and herbs, and oysters purchased especially for the dressing. Dad prepares a light breakfast while Mom gets that turkey ready to go in the oven. After breakfast Lillian cleans up the dishes and sweeps the kitchen floor. She and Mom spend the rest of the morning making apple and celery salad with nuts, gelatin molds, and vegetable side dishes. They make a relish tray full of pickles and olives and various types of cheeses. Lillian whips fresh cream for the pumpkin pies. Dad makes his signature eggnog. By 11:00 a.m. the smell of roasting turkey permeates the house. Dad samples the oyster dressing and declares it perfect.

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Christmas Gift

Christmas Gifts.

Open email

Flight Itinerary

She'll be here

Merry Christmas

Telephone Rings

Three days off

We can meet him

Happy New Year

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Faith

FAITH
“God, don’t do that to all those people.” The old man was babbling again, oblivious to his surroundings. His daughter sighed, resigning herself to his semi-conscious state. He wouldn’t remember today’s visit, nor yesterday’s, nor tomorrow’s. Suddenly he jerked and opened his eyes. He seemed to recognize her.

“I talk to God,” he said.

“What do you tell him?”

“It’s a secret. I’m lonely. We’re all lonely here. No one wants to come visit us anymore. You don’t want to be here.” Tears came to his eyes. “No one loves me anymore.”

“Dad, stop, I am here. My brother comes everyday too. You are not alone. Think of me. When I am old as you there truly will be no one by my side for I am already alone, though young.” She squeezed his hand.

His eyes closed then and he slept. He did not speak again.

“What is that smell?” said the daughter.

She sniffed again. On the wall of the diner hung a floral arrangement made of dried eucalyptus leaves. She walked over to the flowers and was nearly overwhelmed with nausea at the smell.

“Funny,” she thought to herself, “I never had that reaction to a floral arrangement before.”

“Would you like coffee with your breakfast?” said the server.

“No, no thank you.” “What am I saying?” she thought. “I always drink coffee.”

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A Bad Start to the Day

Joey knows it’s going to be a bad day when her hair dryer pops the circuit breaker in the bathroom. She lays the hair dryer down in the sink and runs into the garage with just a towel wrapped around her. The garage door is open and the neighbor across the street is leaving for work and sees her in her undress condition. She flips on the circuit breaker and runs back into the bathroom just in time to see the smoke coming out of the outlet where she plugged in the hair dryer. The circuit breaker pops again. Accepting the bad hair day she goes into her closet and discovers that her white sweater has fallen off the hanger and the cat has turned it into a bed. What else can she wear with the black slacks? She grabs a shirt and makes her way to the kitchen. She forgot to set the coffee pot the night before so there’s no fresh coffee and she won’t have time to go through the drive through on the way to work. Frazzled, she grabs her purse and runs out the door. The needle on the gas gauge doesn’t move. Then she remembers that the empty signal was flashing last night. Can she make the 20 minute commute without stopping for gas? Better not try it even though stopping will make her late for the 8:00 meeting at work. The car radio is playing an inspirational song. She forces herself to take several deep breaths, says a silent prayer of thanksgiving that she didn’t burn down the house and calls her boss on her cell phone and tells him she’ll be a few minutes late. As she drives toward the freeway she wonders how a song has the power to transform the day.

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Silence!

Forty mile an hour gusts drove in the cold rain. It froze as it fell laying a coat of ice on window panes and trees and on every road and street. The winds continued and the snow arrived in drifts. For hours the storm buffeted the state.

Inside a fire crackled in the fireplace. Television stations blared out weather warnings. Friends and neighbors called on the phone to be sure we were all right. At last the day ended and we settled down to sleep.

Come morning, early morning, the storm had passed. A full moon illuminated the pristine landscape. White, calm, clean. Opening the door we stood on the porch and observed. Neither of us said a word. There were no trains, no cars, no trucks, no planes. No dogs barked, no horns honked, no doors slammed. Nothing at all. We drank it in, standing on the porch in our robes and slippers, unaware of time. The tension ebbed from our muscles. Our bodies relaxed. We were refreshed, not so much from the night's sleep as from the balm of nature. We fixed breakfast without talking and ate as quietly as we could.

The heater fan came on. We started a fire. The coffeemaker dripped and sputtered. Finally we flipped on the television and the newscaster's voice broke the spell. The day had begun.

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So Much Trouble

So much trouble
Would a puppy be
He 'd scratch and whine
On the floor he would pee.

I'll take care of him
Cried Little Boy Lee
His messes I'll clean
He can sleep with me.

No dog in the house
His mom did insist
No pet at all
But she couldn't resist

Those big brown eyes
Cried little boy tears
She looked deep inside
And remembered the years

When Rex and Prissy
and Friskie and Duke
Had been her best friends
It wasn't a fluke.

A boy needs a dog
She decided at last
To make many memories
To 'come part of his past

So they picked out a brown one
With one floppy ear
And took him straight home
They called him Bear.

Bear and Lee became friends
Who romped in the park
When the sunshine went down
They weren't afraid of the dark.

And true to his word
When mistakes Bear would make
Lee grabbed a rag
And sometimes a rake.

They formed a bond
No human could break
The dog and the boy
What a pair they did make.

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Mud

MUD

I met Mud at midnight

On the tenth of July.

The kids, it seems

Brought him home on the sly

Straight from the pound;

He was waiting to die.

A Brittany Spaniel

So lean and strong

You couldn’t go for a walk

He just pulled you along.

To obedience school

Went my daughter and he.

They flunked with an F,

But he didn’t catch fleas.

Fences could not hold him;

He just tunneled under.

Electrical currents

Produced enough thunder

To keep him contained

Until our next blunder.

He jumped and he climbed

Right over the rails.

Once he was gone

You couldn’t follow his trail.

He and his pal

Went out through the pines.

Though they searched through the night

No Mud did they find.

Yet after a fortnight

The phone it did ring

Seems Mud and his pal

Were back in the sting.

Along came a young man

Who captured her heart

When they said their “I do’s”

Mud had a big part

The pictures confirm

That he carried the rings

They placed on their fingers

One summer evening.

They’ve settled down now

In a town by the lake.

Where Mud can go swim

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It's Better to Give...

Miss Fern lived next door. Our houses were close together and we could look out the windows into each other's living rooms. Every night she would blow us a kiss "G-night" before she drew her shades.

Miss Fern had a sister-in-law, Miss Zelda, who lived in a nursing home in the next town. Prior to the illness that put Miss Zelda in the home, she would come to Miss Fern's at 9:00 every morning for coffee. Both were widowed and their hour together everyday was their social life.

Illness attacked Miss Zelda in the summer. As the Nebraska winter closed in on December, Miss Fern would often reminisce about the times when she and Miss Zelda and their husbands celebrated the holidays together. Miss Fern's eyes would tear up as she wondered aloud if she would ever get to see Miss Zelda again.

The car dealership suggested we take a new car for a test drive.

"Keep it all day," the sales manager said.

We made a quick call to the nursing home and arranged a surprise for Miss Zelda. Quickly we bundled Miss Fern into her coat and pushed her wheelchair out to the car.

"Where are we going?" she said.

"It's a surprise, just enjoy the ride." we said.

In about an hour we arrived at the home. Miss Fern was ecstatic as we wheeled her inside. Miss Zelda was hidden from view so we left Miss Fern in the foyer while we went inside.

"Miss Zelda," we said, "We have brought you a gift."

Miss Fern wheeled in and the best friends got wide grins. There were tears all around as they embraced. Miss Fern stayed for lunch and a long, winter visit.

At the end of the day we all were exhausted. The gift cost us nothing and yet it was priceless. That feel good feeling returns every year when we think about Christmas's past and what we hold dear.

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