From the small rectangular opening just inches in front of Frank’s face, he saw the first smile. It was his only view of the outside world from inside the dark cavernous cab from which he drove. The young boy was no more than 8 years old. His face, sandwiched between a wool scarf and cap, was beaming. From his grandpa’s lap the little lad pointed his finger and with awe, “wow” fell softly from his lips. Nothing captured this moment more powerfully then the look of pure amazement on a child’s face. The boy’s eyes grew as big as pie plates when the pump behind Frank shot its first blast of water 60 feet into the air. This time the wow did not fall from the boy’s lips; it shot with as much intensity as the blast of water that solicited such a reaction.
Just minutes before, Frank had entered the steel labyrinth through its belly. The small opening that the mammoth skeleton of rebar, angle iron and metal tube offered was a stark contrast to its immense proportions. Imagining that this gargantuan framework of iron could move from the confines of the warehouse where it rested took effort. Yet Frank was responsible for doing just that. He snaked into the great work and crawled to his cockpit that sat at the front of the huge structure. There he found a small fiberglass seat. The throw pillow he brought along was the only creature comfort he would enjoy on his brief journey on this early New Year’s morning. He climbed into position and gave his rudimentary controls a test. He twisted the wheel from side to side. He depressed the accelerator and then the brake. Then for a brief moment, he sat and took in the fantastic frame around him. Everywhere he looked was steel and cable. Over the last few years, these great beasts had even been given brains. Circuit boards and wiring were becoming as prominent as nuts and bolts. “Sure doesn’t look like a whale from in its belly.” Frank laughed to himself, “I wonder if this is how Jonah felt”. The same thought occurred to him every year. Rarely did these steel webbed monoliths give a hint as to what they would become once in full bloom. “It’s true balance”, Frank thought. For without the stark, cold mass of steel, there could be no platform for the brilliant beauty of flowers that adorned her sides. The flowers gave her beauty but the massive frame gave her life.
As Frank completed the turn on to Colorado Boulevard the rectangular opening found them one by one, each portrait as rich as the next. Of the thousands that came to marvel, Frank would see just a few. But it was those few that made his annual journey so cathartic. It was the few single snapshots, among the thousands of potential pictures, which made this short trip so profound. His rectangular opening became more than an opening to navigate his course; it was a frame to the singular pictures that depicted the essence of the parade. The parade had a spirit, a spirit born from the shared joy of all those that came to see. It was a young and innocent spirit. The reaction of the eight year old boy seeing the parade for the first time was as inspired as his grandpa who had seen the parade countless times.
This year the float that Frank piloted depicted two humpback whales, a fact Frank was continually reminded of by the sound of the pump blowing their spouts into the air. He’d driven floats of all shapes and sizes; from space shuttles to Disney characters. Each was unique and as beautiful as the next. But for Frank, the true beauty of the Rose Parade was found in a child’s face framed by a small rectangular opening in the float that he drove. It was truly the best view of the parade.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Superman
“HE’S GOING TO KILL HIMSELF!!” Laura’s words flew from her mouth with such intensity and volume that she actually startled herself. Just as startled were the 40 or so staff members and patients who occupied the psych ward that she had just entered. All heads instinctively spun to see where the scream had come from, only to find a young, petite, brown haired girl frozen with panic, her index finger targeting the sole male figure that was perched on the balcony that hung on the other side of the glass doors at the end of the large white room. Laura barely recognized her own voice as it bounced off the tall white walls and hard white tile floor that surrounded her. Whatever calm that had existed in the room before her arrival was gone now. This was hardly the impression that she planned on making on her first visit to the psych ward on the first day of her internship. Her nerves were already on edge considering that Dr. Strauss, her new boss, was acting as this morning’s tour guide of the hospital and ward. She wanted to make such a good impression. “Be quiet, polite and observe” was her mantra all morning as she readied herself for her first day. She began to regain her composure when she realized that nobody else shared her shock at the sight of the man perched on the edge of the balcony, three floors up, facing outwards and appearing as though he was ready to take his final leap. This was a particularly disturbing sight considering the fact that this was, in fact, a psych ward and was, in fact, filled with patients with varying degrees of mental ailments ranging from slight depression to full blown schizophrenia. Certainly suicide was not a foreign concept to anyone here. Still, the ward’s occupants were much more startled by this new visitors scream than the sight which compelled such a shriek.
Regardless of the technical medical term; bipolar, psychosis or paranoia, all of the inhabitants of the psych ward were escaping reality. At least that’s how Laura saw it. It’s what made her request an internship here. She didn’t see these people as nuts, demented or as crazy. She saw them as lost souls; souls that were lost and in search of the answer or hiding from an answer that was too difficult to live with in reality. Most of the world escapes by taking a long vacation, or by going fishing, or painting a picture, or enjoying a long evening walk in the park. These are adequate remedies to the problems a demanding boss or nagging spouse can bring. However, a vacation or walk is not a sufficient retreat from an abusive parent or loss that is too devastating to face in a reality that provides no meaningful answers to a broken spirit. The people of this psych ward were truly broken and Laura wanted to try to understand and help them with compassion rather than the clinical eye that she was in the process of honing in her final years as a PhD student at the local university.
“It’s o.k. Laura. He’s o.k.” Dr. Strauss put his arm around Laura and tried to calm and reassure her. “He’s not going to hurt himself or anyone else. He’s o.k.” Dr. Strauss’s efforts were not lost on Laura and she began to breathe more evenly. “And they say we’re the crazy ones” a seemingly disembodied voice, that turned out to be that of Mr. Spelling’s, a harmless sociopath that had been a patient for many years, offered a humorous, unsolicited commentary on the entire event. Indeed this brought a slight smile to Laura’s face, further reducing the stress of the moment. “What is he doing?” Laura whispered in order to compensate for her prior outburst, “Why is he out there?”
The brisk morning air met his chiseled face and hardened frame with a sting. It created a heightened sense of vigilance as he diligently stood guard over the fine citizens of Metropolis. From his vantage point, high above the city’s rooftops, he could see all the day’s events unfold in the city streets below. No peril would fall on the fine citizens of Metropolis, not while Superman was here. Superman was alert this morning. With his super human powers, he could swiftly and easily subdue a robber, blow the flames of a burning building out with a single breath or single handedly lift a stalled car from the path of an oncoming train. His powers were limitless. His job was to protect and save and Superman could not be distracted because someone could get hurt or worse, lives could be lost. This was Superman’s job. It was his mission. It was his life. Every day, he stood watch and was the ultimate guard against any threat to the people of Metropolis. The world was a safer place because of him and nothing could distract Superman from his job as the ultimate protector and life saver… not even the shrill scream of a shocked young lady on the other side of the glass windows behind him could shake the determined focus of the man of steel.
“That’s Jack Todd” Dr. Strauss explained, “He’s been with us for three years or so. Every day Mr. Todd gets up at 6 AM and heads for the balcony. There he stands, regardless of the weather, and simply looks out over the hospital grounds. He stays until dusk and then repeats the routine the following day.” As Dr. Strauss explained, Laura fixated on Jack and began to notice his features and posture. He was a tall, fit man with dark wavy hair. He stood almost like a soldier waiting for a high ranking officer to make an inspection. Her best guess was that he was in his 40’s. She thought that he was actually somewhat handsome. Laura asked, “Why is he there. What is he looking for or is he waiting for something to arrive?”. “He hasn’t spoken a word since he’s been here” Dr. Strauss replied, “In fact, I don’t think he’s said a word since the accident.” Laura’s eyes turned from Jack back to Dr. Strauss. She repeated, “Accident?” “Yes, Laura, Mr. Todd lost his wife and two children in a terrible car accident three years ago. He was the sole survivor. He’s been with us ever since, essentially standing on that balcony in silence each day.” Laura’s eyes went back to Jack. The only words she could find were, “Dear God, that poor, poor soul.”
This was the last stop for Laura. The psych ward is where her tour ended. It was where she would be spending her time as an intern. The remainder of the day was spent meeting the staff, filling out paper work and familiarizing herself with the policies and procedures of her new job. Laura didn’t have time to meet any of the patients. She did, however, find herself looking out to the balcony and wondering about Jack. She thought about him on the way home, as she ate dinner and as she fell asleep that night.
Katie Smiley was a robust woman who always found a reason to smile and laugh. She had been the lead nurse on the psych ward for 14 years and although technically Dr. Strauss was the head of the ward, it really belonged to Katie. She ran the ward with a firm and efficient hand, but her humor and kind demeanor was made obvious throughout the day. She is who Laura would answer to and took direction from each day.
When Laura arrived this morning she went directly to Katie’s office. “Good morning, Katie” she said with a smile and certain level of enthusiasm. “Well good morning, Laura. Are you ready to get started?” “Yes I am”, Laura replied, but wasn’t sure what she was ready to start to do. As an intern her tasks could range from assisting orderlies to sitting in on and helping run group therapy sessions. “O.k. then, it’s almost breakfast time so why don’t you go out and ask Mr. Todd if he would like to come in and join us for a bite to eat.” Laura’s eyes went straight out toward the balcony. She could see him standing on the balcony. Although the sight of him was exactly as the morning before, she saw him differently now, at very least, she didn’t panic at the sight of him. She was actually sort of glad that her first task as a new intern was to interact with Jack Todd, the man she wondered so much about.
“Good morning Mr. Todd, I’m Laura. How are you this morning?” Laura put forth her most cheery voice as she carefully approached Jack from just off his left side. Knowing that he hadn’t spoken to a soul in three years, Laura didn’t really expect a response. But she also knew that it was quite possible that he heard every word that had been spoken to him. There was also a chance that he had not. Nonetheless, inside this silent man, that was perched on the edge of this balcony, was a soul that had been deeply damaged and a soul that needed some compassion and repair. “It’s almost breakfast time, please come in and join us.” Her invitation was delivered with the same warmth as if she was inviting Jack into her own home for a meal. Still, there was no response. The remainder of the day was spent doing routine tasks which included visits to Jack for lunch and dinner invitations. All were met with the same response, which was silence. Although her contact with Jack was brief, her eyes were continually drawn to him as were her thoughts. She couldn’t help herself.
Despite his superhuman senses, the voice he heard was faint. Evidently one of the citizens of Metropolis had seen him and wanted to tell him something, but her voice was like a whisper and he couldn’t hear what she said. It wasn’t a cry for help. Superman would always hear a cry for help. That was his job. He was the ultimate protector. He kept the citizens of Metropolis safe. He took a momentary break from his vigilant watch to wonder about the women’s voice he’d heard.
Katie tidied her desk as the work day came to an end. Laura entered Katie’s office and seeing that she wasn’t busy, decided to ask the question that had plagued her for the last 24 hours. “Katie, can I ask you a question about one of the patients?” Katie looked up over her readers, smiled and said, “What would you like to know about Mr. Todd?” “How did you know my question was about him?” Laura was taken aback by Katie’s apparent ESP. “Just a hunch” Katie’s smile got bigger. “Yes, in fact, it is about Mr. Todd. What can you tell me about him and the accident he was in?” Katie leaned back in her chair and took in a long breath then let it out. She tilted her head and looked at Laura out of the side of her eyes. “I’ll tell you something sweetie, Jack Todd is a unique person. I’ve been on this ward for more years than I’d care to think about and have never seen a patient like Mr. Todd. There’s not much to tell about his life here. You pretty much saw it today. It hasn’t changed much since the day he was admitted. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He rarely acknowledges anyone, particularly when he’s out there.” Katie gestured to the balcony where Jack was standing. “The poor soul.” Katie continued,” The accident was tragic. I don’t really know the details; just that he lost his wife and two children in a terrible car accident. He was the only survivor. They were coming home from a soccer game or birthday party or something.” Katie’s voice got quiet; almost like she was sharing a secret and she leaned forward toward Laura and said, “I remember someone saying that Mr. Todd almost killed himself trying to save his family.” Katie leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes again. A tear was welling up in one of them, “I don’t know why he’s out on that balcony every day, but I will tell you this, he’s a man with a purpose. It’s just a feeling I get. Call it a sixth sense. Or maybe that old coot Mr. Spelling is right.” “Mr. Spelling?” Laura wondered why Katie would reference another patient. Katie half laughed and said, “Yes, he tells everyone that Jack Todd looks like Superman out there.” Laura’s frown broke and she smiled and she repeated, “Superman, huh?”. She soaked in every word and, although she didn’t say so, she agreed; Jack Todd was a man with a purpose. Laura went home that night and, like the night before, Jack was on her mind.
It’s amazing what a few hours with Google will do when it comes to research. Laura was able to pull up news stories about the accident the Todd family was involved in. The stories didn’t offer much detail but confirmed that the Todd’s were on the way home from a soccer game and were hit by an 18 wheeler. The driver had fallen asleep and the truck crossed the center line into oncoming traffic and hit Jack’s car. Jack had been thrown from the car as it tumbled down the highway. His wife, six year old daughter and ten year old son were killed. Laura gasped as she read the story. She felt such a great sadness. “My God, it’s no wonder that poor man is in the state he’s in. God knows how I would be doing”.
Officer Bonelli parked his patrol car at the rear of the station. He passed through the double steel back doors and walked up the hall to the small office where troopers completed their paperwork at the end of each shift. “Hey Danny, you got a phone message up here”. The woman dispatcher for the state trooper station also acted as their receptionist. She yelled to Officer Bonelli when she saw him walk up the hallway. “If it was the IRS, tell them I moved to Italy.” Danny quipped back. “Actually, it was a, ahem, a young lady”, the dispatcher threw as much drama into her voice as she could. Danny looked up from the report he had started and said, “Young lady, what young lady?”
Laura heard the phone ring. She dried her hands which were wet from doing the dinner dishes, picked up the phone and said hello. “Ma’am, this is Officer Dan Bonelli with the state trooper’s office. I understand that you were looking for me.” Dan’s introduction sounded official, but friendly. “Oh yes sir. Thank you for calling me back. My name is Laura Kline and I work in the psychiatric ward at the state hospital in Northwood…” Danny interrupted, “You folks finally caught up with me, eh?” Danny chuckled at his own wit and Laura laughed too. “I actually am calling about a car accident involving the Todd family.” Laura’s voice had turned somber. Danny hesitated, his voice too became somber and he replied, “Oh the Todd’s. That is an accident scene I’ll never forget. What’s your interest in the Todd’s?” “Mr. Todd is a full time patient at the hospital.” There was a long pause and Dan said, “How is he doing?” “He’s pretty much kept to himself since being admitted. He doesn’t really communicate with anyone. Interestingly, he gets up every day and uhhh… he uhhh kinda just stands out on this balcony and stares out over the lawn and trees.” Dan thought for a moment and said, “I guess he just checked himself out, huh?” “Well I’m not so sure about that… He seems to have a purpose”. Again Dan paused, and then spoke, “I see, well what’s his purpose, Ms. Kline.” “I’m not sure. At any rate, I was hoping you could tell me about the accident, though. The newspaper said you were on scene very quickly.”
“Well the newspaper got it almost right. I was on scene when the accident happened. I saw the entire thing. It was horrible. I had just started tailing this big rig up the two lane section of I45. I had noticed that he was driving erratically and thought maybe he’d been drinking. Kinda early in the day for a drunk driver, but you never know. Anyhow, I was about to hit the reds and pull him over when he swerved into oncoming traffic. He missed a head-on with the Todd’s vehicle, but clipped the left rear fender. That sent their car into a series of rolls. Their car rolled right past me and down the highway behind me about 500 feet. I watched in my rear view mirror. Mr. Todd got ejected from the car after the first roll. I guess he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. The only thing that stopped the car was a big tree on the side of the road. God almighty the car hit that tree hard. The gas tank must’ve ruptured because the car burst into flames.” When Dan started his story he sounded as if he were giving testimony in court but by now, his voice was starting to crack as the memory of the accident became more vivid. He took a deep breath and continued, “I made a U turn and headed back down the highway. Mr. Todd had gotten up from wherever he landed and was doing is best to get back to his family. He was in God awful shape. Didn’t know it at the time, but he had a broken back, broken leg and some pretty severe head injuries. There was nothing he could do though; the car was fully engulfed in flames. Even without the fire, whoever was in the car would have been killed by all the rolls and hitting the tree. By the time I got back to the wreck, Mr. Todd was about 25 feet away and smoke was starting to come off his clothes from the heat of the fire.” Again Dan paused. This time it was longer than before. He cleared his throat and continued, “That didn’t stop him. He kept heading for the car. He’d have killed himself if he kept going. I jumped out of my cruiser, ran after him and wrapped my arms around him and took him to the ground as gently as I could. He fought me hard. He kept yelling ‘my family, my family’. Finally I put my body on top of him, put my face right against his, looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘god damn it, you’re not Superman. YOU’RE NOT SUPERMAN. You can’t save them. They’re gone.’” Laura heard Dan begin to cry. He tried to muffle it, but she could hear him and knew he was crying. Laura was crying too. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Dan gathered himself, “No it’s o.k. You didn’t know. It’s o.k.” Laura felt a great deal of compassion and knew that the accident had been an extremely traumatic event for everyone. Dan spoke again, “I’ve carried that day around with me for a long time. I’ve always second guessed what I did. If only I had spotted that truck sooner and pulled it over. Or maybe instead of holding Mr. Todd down, I should have helped him get to the car and tried to save his family. Hell, I dunno, we sure could’ve used Superman that day, that’s for sure.” Laura felt bad for having called Dan. She felt bad that she was the reason for his grief tonight. She said, “I’m so sorry. There is no doubt that you did the right thing. I’m sure everyone must tell you that.” In a hushed tone Dan replied, “Yeah, everyone does tell me that. But I gotta tell you Ms. Kline. It doesn’t make it any easier.” The phone conversation ended with pleasantries and Laura began to get ready for bed. She was emotionally drained and shaken up. She thought about going in to work the next day and seeing Jack out on the balcony. “The man with a purpose” was her last thought before falling asleep... “The man who needed to be saved”.
“Good morning Mr. Todd. What a perfect day. It’s almost time for breakfast.” Laura spoke to Jack like a friend. Her voice was a bit more intimate. She felt like she knew him now. He no longer was just a man perched on a balcony. He had a past, and while tragic it made him more real to Laura. The story that was told to her the night before gave Laura a sense of why Jack was here. She had sympathy for him. It lessened the effect of Jack failing to acknowledge her. She felt a connection.
He heard her voice for a second time. This time her voice was not as feint, but not so strong as to divert Superman’s attention from his vigilant watch. Her voice was sorrowful. Superman always heard the calls of those that were in need the loudest.
For weeks Laura would go out to the balcony and sit with Jack. Sometimes she would tell him about her day and share her joys and frustrations, not just from her work at the hospital, but from her personal life too. Sometimes, she would just sit with him quietly. She saw a lonely figure on that balcony. She saw a man that was searching… a man with a purpose. Deep down, Laura felt as though Jack could hear her every word, still never once did his gaze leave the openness of the garden below. Never once did he speak a word to Laura. More than anything, Laura was trying to work up the courage to tell Jack what she had wanted to tell him the day after her phone conversation with Officer Bonelli. She wanted to be the one to tell him what he should have been told years ago.
There was a commotion in the ward that morning as orderlies, nurses, doctors and patients readied themselves for annual hospital picnic that was held in the front garden each year. Most all of the patients, and staff for that matter, were anxious to enjoy the afternoon’s activities, which started with a softball game and ended with a small firework display after dinner. All of the patients participated except for Jack. Jack never attended the picnic. Doing so would require him to leave his perch, and that was out of the question. Laura volunteered to be the one to stay on the ward that afternoon and look after Jack. As the ward emptied, she walked out to the balcony and sat down in a patio chair a few feet behind and to the left of Jack. There he stood, motionless, seemingly watching over the festivities of the picnic below from his station on the balcony three floors above. For the first time, Laura was alone with Jack, utterly alone. There was no one left on the floor but them. She felt a level of comfort in that. For some odd reason she actually felt very safe with Jack, almost as if he was watching out for her rather than the other way around. And as each moment passed, she felt more comfortable and closer to him. In that intimacy, safety and comfort, she found the courage for which she had been searching for weeks. She finally spoke, “You can’t be that man, Jack. Not for the rest of your life. You are a good man, Jack. You are a good man. There was nothing you could do. You did everything humanly possible. Not even Superman could have made a difference that day. That’s even what the police officer said. Don’t be that man, Jack. Don’t be the man on the road. Be the man they loved and fulfilled. They still love you Jack. It wasn’t your fault. It’s o.k.” Her words were sincere and she found herself on the verge of tears. She had true compassion for Jack. She had sympathy for him. She had broken every rule ever written about interacting with a patient. She followed every rule in her heart for helping a fellow human being. It was the right thing to do. His heart had to be touched and only the touch of another heart was worthy. The greatest healing comes from the heart, not from books or group sessions or theories or anti depressants. Intuitively, Laura knew that and today she trusted her intuition.
The women’s voice was clearer than it ever had been. She must be closer or speaking louder the Man of Steal thought. She is trying to tell me something. Her voice needs to be heard. He searched the city streets below for the source of the voice. He knew that she needed to be heard. He could feel that. He could feel hear almost as much as hear her, maybe more. Feelings were not something the man of steal was accustomed to. Steal is impervious to things such as feelings.
The buildings that housed the hospital were old. Built in the late 50’s, and despite the best efforts of the maintenance staff, the buildings and its equipment had been wearing down for years. State budget cuts led to a lack of funding and whatever funds that were available each year were dedicated to patient care and staff costs. Even then, money wasn’t plentiful. The maintenance department was continually forced to make repairs using their best, and sometimes only, resource which was creativity. The words “jerry rig” and “duct tape” were tossed around by the guys in maintenance as much as “Prozac” and “Xanax” are used by the doctors and nurses on the ward.
Huge boilers were used to heat the buildings and provide hot water to the hospital. The four massive steal vessels that were full of the water were continually kept hot by gas flames burning hot beneath them. High levels of pressure were constantly testing the seams and welds of the old tanks. Moans and unsettling creaks echoed throughout the basement as the skin of the boilers stretched under the great pressure exerted by the water getting hotter and hotter. These boilers were original equipment and despite the fact that they had outlived their useful life by threefold, they never had been replaced because of the lack of funds. The maintenance staff warned anyone that would listen, that one day one of the boilers would fail. That was their way of saying an accident was imminent.
Laura left Jack alone for a moment. She went back into the ward to get a cup of tea from the break room that was located next to Katie’s office. The break room had a few vending machines in it, a small counter and sink and a table with four chairs around it. Laura pulled a cup from the upper cabinet and filled it with water. She put it in the microwave, set the timer and took a teabag from the box next to the sink. When the timer rang, she took the cup of hot water from the microwave and placed it on the counter. Then she noticed something odd. The water in the cup seemed to be vibrating and the cup shook slightly as if the counter top was trembling. Not giving it much of a second thought, she dipped the tea bag into the water and headed back out toward the balcony to be with Jack.
When the first rivet failed on boiler number 2 it created a chain reaction. Like a zipper, the rivets that formed a line running down the side of the boiler began to pop. After five or six gave way to the pressure of the boiling water, the huge boiler shifted slightly to one side. The weight of the steal vessel, and the thousands of pounds of water it contained, pulled at the brackets that secured it to the walls of the basement. Despite the fact that it only shifted a few inches, the momentum created by such a massive amount of weight shook the entire building. Like dominoes, rivets failed more rapidly and popped of the side of the boiler. Some ricocheted off walls and the other boilers several times before bouncing to the ground. Finally, enough rivets failed and the skin of the boiler gave way. The boiler exploded with the force of a bomb. The heavy steal boiler lid was launched violently into the air, penetrating the ceiling of the basement and into the floors above. The massive explosion sent steam, debris and hot water in every direction. It destroyed everything in its path. The main beam that supported the interior floor of the psych ward was shattered within seconds of the explosion. The floor of the ward raised and fell two feet in a matter of seconds. It was as if some giant had kicked the underside of the ward with all of his might. Inside the ward walls, beams and columns came crashing down everywhere. In a matter of moments, the entire ward was devastated. Luckily, except for Laura, the floor was empty.
The ringing in Laura’s ears was intense and shrill. It was the first thing she noticed as she regained her consciousness. Or perhaps it was the acidy smell of smoke that first pulled her back into reality. She began to cough and instinctively she attempted get up off the floor and out of debris that surrounded her. Along with everything else in the ward, the force of the blast launched Laura into the air. She landed equally hard. Still confused, Laura began to realize that something terrible had just happened. She began feeling pain in her legs and in one arm. She tasted blood in her mouth and she started to get frightened. As she reclaimed her wits, she could feel that her legs were pinned under something extremely heavy, leaving them all but useless to her. She was trapped. The first aid training that she received in preparation for her internship told her that she needed help quickly. She could feel the onset of shock coming on and her fright was turning into panic. The smell of smoke got more intense and she could see black smoke rolling along the ceiling in every direction. Again she tried to free her trapped legs, but the harder she tried, the more they hurt. She could barely stand the pain. She needed help and she needed it now. She turned toward the stairs that led up to the ward to see if maybe a staffer would be coming up from the picnic to investigate or to help, but there was a wall of debris blocking the entrance to the ward. Then she looked out to the balcony. There stood Jack at the edge of the balcony. He hadn’t moved in the slightest. There he stood so tall and steady. She began to worry about him as well. She wanted Jack to be safe too. Laura began to hear the fire that was pushing the thick smoke into the ward. Then she began to feel the heat from the flames. Things were going from bad to worse quickly now. Laura had no other choice, she needed help right away. She looked toward the balcony and she called Jack’s name.
The man of steal heard the voice again. This time there was no mistaking it. It was the sound of a woman and she needed help. He began to scan the streets of the city below and focused all of his senses on finding her. Again he heard her cry for help. It was getting louder and more desperate. Then he spotted her. She was in the burning building. She was in trouble and he must act quickly to save her. That is Superman’s sole purpose; to save lives and he would save hers.
From the ground, Laura watched as Jack did something he hadn’t done in three years, he was moving with speed and purpose. He cut through the debris with agility and grace as he quickly made his way to her. When he got to her, he looked directly at her. They’d never made eye contact before. There was life in his eyes. His eyes were steely and focused. Without delay, he broke his gaze and went to where her legs were pinned. He tossed some debris aside uncovering a large steel beam that was pinning Laura’s legs. He reached down with both hands and, in what seemed like superhuman strength, lifted the beam off of her legs.
The fire had grown now. It was inside the ward and moving closer to Jack and Laura. The heat was becoming unbearable and the smoke was worse. Laura was coughing harder now. She could barely see the light coming through the windows. Even though Jack had miraculously freed her legs, she still could not move them. They were too severely injured. Jack quickly turned to face Laura again. Again their eyes met. He didn’t look frightened or concerned. Laura thought he looked determined. This gave her comfort. Jack reached down and put his arms under Laura’s waist and shoulders. Before she knew it, he had hoisted her up and was moving quickly back towards the balcony. Moving with the same quickness and agility as when he came to her rescue, he found the double doors leading to the balcony. Jack was running now. He was running straight for the edge of the balcony with Laura cradled tightly in his arms.
To safety, I will take her to safety NOW, and with that Superman leaped from the burning building with the injured woman wrapped safely in his hold. Into the air they soared.
There was chaos on the front lawn of the hospital. The staff was doing everything they could to keep the already panicked and frightened patients calm. The massive explosion brought a sudden halt to the festivities and sent the psychosis of all the patients into overdrive. Despite the mayhem, all eyes were on the third floor of the building because that’s where most of the smoke and flames were came. All at once a silence fell upon the crowd as they spotted a singular figure emerging from out of the black billowing smoke that heaved from the doors leading to the balcony off the room most of them would have been occupying on any other afternoon. It was Jack Todd and he was cradling something in his arms. The quickness at which he moved and the way he guarded his precious cargo made it difficult to tell what he had or what he was doing. One thing was sure, he was moving quickly toward the edge of the balcony. Dr. Strauss was the first to realize it and he yelled, “My God, he’s going to jump!” and there was a unified gasp across the lawn.
As Jack leaped from the edge of the balcony, time stood still. Every detail surrounding Jack’s leap became brilliant, starting with the whirl of black smoke that Jack left in his gentle wake. Rather than an uncontrolled fall to the ground, his exit from the balcony was that of a superhero. Like a highly trained athlete leaving the high dive, Jack’s body stiffened and his back arched. His long body held a graceful pitch and almost elegant line. He didn’t appear to be falling toward the ground, he appeared to be soaring. The incredible sight continued and in midflight, as if precisely timed and choreographed, Jack spun his body one half of a rotation so that he was facing the sky while gliding toward the earth. As he turned, everyone recognized what Jack was holding. It was Laura and he held her so tightly against his body, the two appeared as one. Her cradled body fit snug against Jack’s torso, her face buried in Jack’s chest. His graceful turn came just in time to keep Laura from being hit by the branches of the tree he’d leaped toward. As the two sped down through the tree, the sound of breaking branches echoed across the lawn. Jack’s back took the impact of the branches and never once did he loosen his protective hold around Laura. Laura too could hear the sound of the tree branches breaking around her. Too frightened to look, she kept her face buried in Jack’s chest. Strangely though, Laura had never felt safer in her entire life, a feeling that started the second Jack came to her rescue in the midst of the fire and smoke on the floor from which they had just departed. She felt safe in his arms. She truly trusted Jack. She felt safe.
Jack’s body landed on the ground with a sound of a solid thud and with a sharp but low bounce. Absorbing most of the shock, Jack’s body protected Laura from even the slightest discomfort from the hard landing that marked the end of their brief, yet miraculous, flight. On the ground they now lay, motionless, Jack still protectively holding Laura in his strong arms. Laura pulled her face back from his chest and looked up at Jack. His face was covered with dark soot and his eyes were closed. He did not move. She stared at the man who had just saved her life. Then, like a man awakening from a long deep sleep, Jack slowly opened his eyes and they met Laura’s eyes. A tear rolled down Laura’s cheek and she said, “My God, you are Superman”. Jack blinked slowly once, shook his head slightly, and he found words for the first time in three years, “No. I’m Jack Todd”.
Regardless of the technical medical term; bipolar, psychosis or paranoia, all of the inhabitants of the psych ward were escaping reality. At least that’s how Laura saw it. It’s what made her request an internship here. She didn’t see these people as nuts, demented or as crazy. She saw them as lost souls; souls that were lost and in search of the answer or hiding from an answer that was too difficult to live with in reality. Most of the world escapes by taking a long vacation, or by going fishing, or painting a picture, or enjoying a long evening walk in the park. These are adequate remedies to the problems a demanding boss or nagging spouse can bring. However, a vacation or walk is not a sufficient retreat from an abusive parent or loss that is too devastating to face in a reality that provides no meaningful answers to a broken spirit. The people of this psych ward were truly broken and Laura wanted to try to understand and help them with compassion rather than the clinical eye that she was in the process of honing in her final years as a PhD student at the local university.
“It’s o.k. Laura. He’s o.k.” Dr. Strauss put his arm around Laura and tried to calm and reassure her. “He’s not going to hurt himself or anyone else. He’s o.k.” Dr. Strauss’s efforts were not lost on Laura and she began to breathe more evenly. “And they say we’re the crazy ones” a seemingly disembodied voice, that turned out to be that of Mr. Spelling’s, a harmless sociopath that had been a patient for many years, offered a humorous, unsolicited commentary on the entire event. Indeed this brought a slight smile to Laura’s face, further reducing the stress of the moment. “What is he doing?” Laura whispered in order to compensate for her prior outburst, “Why is he out there?”
The brisk morning air met his chiseled face and hardened frame with a sting. It created a heightened sense of vigilance as he diligently stood guard over the fine citizens of Metropolis. From his vantage point, high above the city’s rooftops, he could see all the day’s events unfold in the city streets below. No peril would fall on the fine citizens of Metropolis, not while Superman was here. Superman was alert this morning. With his super human powers, he could swiftly and easily subdue a robber, blow the flames of a burning building out with a single breath or single handedly lift a stalled car from the path of an oncoming train. His powers were limitless. His job was to protect and save and Superman could not be distracted because someone could get hurt or worse, lives could be lost. This was Superman’s job. It was his mission. It was his life. Every day, he stood watch and was the ultimate guard against any threat to the people of Metropolis. The world was a safer place because of him and nothing could distract Superman from his job as the ultimate protector and life saver… not even the shrill scream of a shocked young lady on the other side of the glass windows behind him could shake the determined focus of the man of steel.
“That’s Jack Todd” Dr. Strauss explained, “He’s been with us for three years or so. Every day Mr. Todd gets up at 6 AM and heads for the balcony. There he stands, regardless of the weather, and simply looks out over the hospital grounds. He stays until dusk and then repeats the routine the following day.” As Dr. Strauss explained, Laura fixated on Jack and began to notice his features and posture. He was a tall, fit man with dark wavy hair. He stood almost like a soldier waiting for a high ranking officer to make an inspection. Her best guess was that he was in his 40’s. She thought that he was actually somewhat handsome. Laura asked, “Why is he there. What is he looking for or is he waiting for something to arrive?”. “He hasn’t spoken a word since he’s been here” Dr. Strauss replied, “In fact, I don’t think he’s said a word since the accident.” Laura’s eyes turned from Jack back to Dr. Strauss. She repeated, “Accident?” “Yes, Laura, Mr. Todd lost his wife and two children in a terrible car accident three years ago. He was the sole survivor. He’s been with us ever since, essentially standing on that balcony in silence each day.” Laura’s eyes went back to Jack. The only words she could find were, “Dear God, that poor, poor soul.”
This was the last stop for Laura. The psych ward is where her tour ended. It was where she would be spending her time as an intern. The remainder of the day was spent meeting the staff, filling out paper work and familiarizing herself with the policies and procedures of her new job. Laura didn’t have time to meet any of the patients. She did, however, find herself looking out to the balcony and wondering about Jack. She thought about him on the way home, as she ate dinner and as she fell asleep that night.
Katie Smiley was a robust woman who always found a reason to smile and laugh. She had been the lead nurse on the psych ward for 14 years and although technically Dr. Strauss was the head of the ward, it really belonged to Katie. She ran the ward with a firm and efficient hand, but her humor and kind demeanor was made obvious throughout the day. She is who Laura would answer to and took direction from each day.
When Laura arrived this morning she went directly to Katie’s office. “Good morning, Katie” she said with a smile and certain level of enthusiasm. “Well good morning, Laura. Are you ready to get started?” “Yes I am”, Laura replied, but wasn’t sure what she was ready to start to do. As an intern her tasks could range from assisting orderlies to sitting in on and helping run group therapy sessions. “O.k. then, it’s almost breakfast time so why don’t you go out and ask Mr. Todd if he would like to come in and join us for a bite to eat.” Laura’s eyes went straight out toward the balcony. She could see him standing on the balcony. Although the sight of him was exactly as the morning before, she saw him differently now, at very least, she didn’t panic at the sight of him. She was actually sort of glad that her first task as a new intern was to interact with Jack Todd, the man she wondered so much about.
“Good morning Mr. Todd, I’m Laura. How are you this morning?” Laura put forth her most cheery voice as she carefully approached Jack from just off his left side. Knowing that he hadn’t spoken to a soul in three years, Laura didn’t really expect a response. But she also knew that it was quite possible that he heard every word that had been spoken to him. There was also a chance that he had not. Nonetheless, inside this silent man, that was perched on the edge of this balcony, was a soul that had been deeply damaged and a soul that needed some compassion and repair. “It’s almost breakfast time, please come in and join us.” Her invitation was delivered with the same warmth as if she was inviting Jack into her own home for a meal. Still, there was no response. The remainder of the day was spent doing routine tasks which included visits to Jack for lunch and dinner invitations. All were met with the same response, which was silence. Although her contact with Jack was brief, her eyes were continually drawn to him as were her thoughts. She couldn’t help herself.
Despite his superhuman senses, the voice he heard was faint. Evidently one of the citizens of Metropolis had seen him and wanted to tell him something, but her voice was like a whisper and he couldn’t hear what she said. It wasn’t a cry for help. Superman would always hear a cry for help. That was his job. He was the ultimate protector. He kept the citizens of Metropolis safe. He took a momentary break from his vigilant watch to wonder about the women’s voice he’d heard.
Katie tidied her desk as the work day came to an end. Laura entered Katie’s office and seeing that she wasn’t busy, decided to ask the question that had plagued her for the last 24 hours. “Katie, can I ask you a question about one of the patients?” Katie looked up over her readers, smiled and said, “What would you like to know about Mr. Todd?” “How did you know my question was about him?” Laura was taken aback by Katie’s apparent ESP. “Just a hunch” Katie’s smile got bigger. “Yes, in fact, it is about Mr. Todd. What can you tell me about him and the accident he was in?” Katie leaned back in her chair and took in a long breath then let it out. She tilted her head and looked at Laura out of the side of her eyes. “I’ll tell you something sweetie, Jack Todd is a unique person. I’ve been on this ward for more years than I’d care to think about and have never seen a patient like Mr. Todd. There’s not much to tell about his life here. You pretty much saw it today. It hasn’t changed much since the day he was admitted. He hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He rarely acknowledges anyone, particularly when he’s out there.” Katie gestured to the balcony where Jack was standing. “The poor soul.” Katie continued,” The accident was tragic. I don’t really know the details; just that he lost his wife and two children in a terrible car accident. He was the only survivor. They were coming home from a soccer game or birthday party or something.” Katie’s voice got quiet; almost like she was sharing a secret and she leaned forward toward Laura and said, “I remember someone saying that Mr. Todd almost killed himself trying to save his family.” Katie leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She opened her eyes again. A tear was welling up in one of them, “I don’t know why he’s out on that balcony every day, but I will tell you this, he’s a man with a purpose. It’s just a feeling I get. Call it a sixth sense. Or maybe that old coot Mr. Spelling is right.” “Mr. Spelling?” Laura wondered why Katie would reference another patient. Katie half laughed and said, “Yes, he tells everyone that Jack Todd looks like Superman out there.” Laura’s frown broke and she smiled and she repeated, “Superman, huh?”. She soaked in every word and, although she didn’t say so, she agreed; Jack Todd was a man with a purpose. Laura went home that night and, like the night before, Jack was on her mind.
It’s amazing what a few hours with Google will do when it comes to research. Laura was able to pull up news stories about the accident the Todd family was involved in. The stories didn’t offer much detail but confirmed that the Todd’s were on the way home from a soccer game and were hit by an 18 wheeler. The driver had fallen asleep and the truck crossed the center line into oncoming traffic and hit Jack’s car. Jack had been thrown from the car as it tumbled down the highway. His wife, six year old daughter and ten year old son were killed. Laura gasped as she read the story. She felt such a great sadness. “My God, it’s no wonder that poor man is in the state he’s in. God knows how I would be doing”.
Officer Bonelli parked his patrol car at the rear of the station. He passed through the double steel back doors and walked up the hall to the small office where troopers completed their paperwork at the end of each shift. “Hey Danny, you got a phone message up here”. The woman dispatcher for the state trooper station also acted as their receptionist. She yelled to Officer Bonelli when she saw him walk up the hallway. “If it was the IRS, tell them I moved to Italy.” Danny quipped back. “Actually, it was a, ahem, a young lady”, the dispatcher threw as much drama into her voice as she could. Danny looked up from the report he had started and said, “Young lady, what young lady?”
Laura heard the phone ring. She dried her hands which were wet from doing the dinner dishes, picked up the phone and said hello. “Ma’am, this is Officer Dan Bonelli with the state trooper’s office. I understand that you were looking for me.” Dan’s introduction sounded official, but friendly. “Oh yes sir. Thank you for calling me back. My name is Laura Kline and I work in the psychiatric ward at the state hospital in Northwood…” Danny interrupted, “You folks finally caught up with me, eh?” Danny chuckled at his own wit and Laura laughed too. “I actually am calling about a car accident involving the Todd family.” Laura’s voice had turned somber. Danny hesitated, his voice too became somber and he replied, “Oh the Todd’s. That is an accident scene I’ll never forget. What’s your interest in the Todd’s?” “Mr. Todd is a full time patient at the hospital.” There was a long pause and Dan said, “How is he doing?” “He’s pretty much kept to himself since being admitted. He doesn’t really communicate with anyone. Interestingly, he gets up every day and uhhh… he uhhh kinda just stands out on this balcony and stares out over the lawn and trees.” Dan thought for a moment and said, “I guess he just checked himself out, huh?” “Well I’m not so sure about that… He seems to have a purpose”. Again Dan paused, and then spoke, “I see, well what’s his purpose, Ms. Kline.” “I’m not sure. At any rate, I was hoping you could tell me about the accident, though. The newspaper said you were on scene very quickly.”
“Well the newspaper got it almost right. I was on scene when the accident happened. I saw the entire thing. It was horrible. I had just started tailing this big rig up the two lane section of I45. I had noticed that he was driving erratically and thought maybe he’d been drinking. Kinda early in the day for a drunk driver, but you never know. Anyhow, I was about to hit the reds and pull him over when he swerved into oncoming traffic. He missed a head-on with the Todd’s vehicle, but clipped the left rear fender. That sent their car into a series of rolls. Their car rolled right past me and down the highway behind me about 500 feet. I watched in my rear view mirror. Mr. Todd got ejected from the car after the first roll. I guess he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt. The only thing that stopped the car was a big tree on the side of the road. God almighty the car hit that tree hard. The gas tank must’ve ruptured because the car burst into flames.” When Dan started his story he sounded as if he were giving testimony in court but by now, his voice was starting to crack as the memory of the accident became more vivid. He took a deep breath and continued, “I made a U turn and headed back down the highway. Mr. Todd had gotten up from wherever he landed and was doing is best to get back to his family. He was in God awful shape. Didn’t know it at the time, but he had a broken back, broken leg and some pretty severe head injuries. There was nothing he could do though; the car was fully engulfed in flames. Even without the fire, whoever was in the car would have been killed by all the rolls and hitting the tree. By the time I got back to the wreck, Mr. Todd was about 25 feet away and smoke was starting to come off his clothes from the heat of the fire.” Again Dan paused. This time it was longer than before. He cleared his throat and continued, “That didn’t stop him. He kept heading for the car. He’d have killed himself if he kept going. I jumped out of my cruiser, ran after him and wrapped my arms around him and took him to the ground as gently as I could. He fought me hard. He kept yelling ‘my family, my family’. Finally I put my body on top of him, put my face right against his, looked him square in the eyes and said, ‘god damn it, you’re not Superman. YOU’RE NOT SUPERMAN. You can’t save them. They’re gone.’” Laura heard Dan begin to cry. He tried to muffle it, but she could hear him and knew he was crying. Laura was crying too. She didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Dan gathered himself, “No it’s o.k. You didn’t know. It’s o.k.” Laura felt a great deal of compassion and knew that the accident had been an extremely traumatic event for everyone. Dan spoke again, “I’ve carried that day around with me for a long time. I’ve always second guessed what I did. If only I had spotted that truck sooner and pulled it over. Or maybe instead of holding Mr. Todd down, I should have helped him get to the car and tried to save his family. Hell, I dunno, we sure could’ve used Superman that day, that’s for sure.” Laura felt bad for having called Dan. She felt bad that she was the reason for his grief tonight. She said, “I’m so sorry. There is no doubt that you did the right thing. I’m sure everyone must tell you that.” In a hushed tone Dan replied, “Yeah, everyone does tell me that. But I gotta tell you Ms. Kline. It doesn’t make it any easier.” The phone conversation ended with pleasantries and Laura began to get ready for bed. She was emotionally drained and shaken up. She thought about going in to work the next day and seeing Jack out on the balcony. “The man with a purpose” was her last thought before falling asleep... “The man who needed to be saved”.
“Good morning Mr. Todd. What a perfect day. It’s almost time for breakfast.” Laura spoke to Jack like a friend. Her voice was a bit more intimate. She felt like she knew him now. He no longer was just a man perched on a balcony. He had a past, and while tragic it made him more real to Laura. The story that was told to her the night before gave Laura a sense of why Jack was here. She had sympathy for him. It lessened the effect of Jack failing to acknowledge her. She felt a connection.
He heard her voice for a second time. This time her voice was not as feint, but not so strong as to divert Superman’s attention from his vigilant watch. Her voice was sorrowful. Superman always heard the calls of those that were in need the loudest.
For weeks Laura would go out to the balcony and sit with Jack. Sometimes she would tell him about her day and share her joys and frustrations, not just from her work at the hospital, but from her personal life too. Sometimes, she would just sit with him quietly. She saw a lonely figure on that balcony. She saw a man that was searching… a man with a purpose. Deep down, Laura felt as though Jack could hear her every word, still never once did his gaze leave the openness of the garden below. Never once did he speak a word to Laura. More than anything, Laura was trying to work up the courage to tell Jack what she had wanted to tell him the day after her phone conversation with Officer Bonelli. She wanted to be the one to tell him what he should have been told years ago.
There was a commotion in the ward that morning as orderlies, nurses, doctors and patients readied themselves for annual hospital picnic that was held in the front garden each year. Most all of the patients, and staff for that matter, were anxious to enjoy the afternoon’s activities, which started with a softball game and ended with a small firework display after dinner. All of the patients participated except for Jack. Jack never attended the picnic. Doing so would require him to leave his perch, and that was out of the question. Laura volunteered to be the one to stay on the ward that afternoon and look after Jack. As the ward emptied, she walked out to the balcony and sat down in a patio chair a few feet behind and to the left of Jack. There he stood, motionless, seemingly watching over the festivities of the picnic below from his station on the balcony three floors above. For the first time, Laura was alone with Jack, utterly alone. There was no one left on the floor but them. She felt a level of comfort in that. For some odd reason she actually felt very safe with Jack, almost as if he was watching out for her rather than the other way around. And as each moment passed, she felt more comfortable and closer to him. In that intimacy, safety and comfort, she found the courage for which she had been searching for weeks. She finally spoke, “You can’t be that man, Jack. Not for the rest of your life. You are a good man, Jack. You are a good man. There was nothing you could do. You did everything humanly possible. Not even Superman could have made a difference that day. That’s even what the police officer said. Don’t be that man, Jack. Don’t be the man on the road. Be the man they loved and fulfilled. They still love you Jack. It wasn’t your fault. It’s o.k.” Her words were sincere and she found herself on the verge of tears. She had true compassion for Jack. She had sympathy for him. She had broken every rule ever written about interacting with a patient. She followed every rule in her heart for helping a fellow human being. It was the right thing to do. His heart had to be touched and only the touch of another heart was worthy. The greatest healing comes from the heart, not from books or group sessions or theories or anti depressants. Intuitively, Laura knew that and today she trusted her intuition.
The women’s voice was clearer than it ever had been. She must be closer or speaking louder the Man of Steal thought. She is trying to tell me something. Her voice needs to be heard. He searched the city streets below for the source of the voice. He knew that she needed to be heard. He could feel that. He could feel hear almost as much as hear her, maybe more. Feelings were not something the man of steal was accustomed to. Steal is impervious to things such as feelings.
The buildings that housed the hospital were old. Built in the late 50’s, and despite the best efforts of the maintenance staff, the buildings and its equipment had been wearing down for years. State budget cuts led to a lack of funding and whatever funds that were available each year were dedicated to patient care and staff costs. Even then, money wasn’t plentiful. The maintenance department was continually forced to make repairs using their best, and sometimes only, resource which was creativity. The words “jerry rig” and “duct tape” were tossed around by the guys in maintenance as much as “Prozac” and “Xanax” are used by the doctors and nurses on the ward.
Huge boilers were used to heat the buildings and provide hot water to the hospital. The four massive steal vessels that were full of the water were continually kept hot by gas flames burning hot beneath them. High levels of pressure were constantly testing the seams and welds of the old tanks. Moans and unsettling creaks echoed throughout the basement as the skin of the boilers stretched under the great pressure exerted by the water getting hotter and hotter. These boilers were original equipment and despite the fact that they had outlived their useful life by threefold, they never had been replaced because of the lack of funds. The maintenance staff warned anyone that would listen, that one day one of the boilers would fail. That was their way of saying an accident was imminent.
Laura left Jack alone for a moment. She went back into the ward to get a cup of tea from the break room that was located next to Katie’s office. The break room had a few vending machines in it, a small counter and sink and a table with four chairs around it. Laura pulled a cup from the upper cabinet and filled it with water. She put it in the microwave, set the timer and took a teabag from the box next to the sink. When the timer rang, she took the cup of hot water from the microwave and placed it on the counter. Then she noticed something odd. The water in the cup seemed to be vibrating and the cup shook slightly as if the counter top was trembling. Not giving it much of a second thought, she dipped the tea bag into the water and headed back out toward the balcony to be with Jack.
When the first rivet failed on boiler number 2 it created a chain reaction. Like a zipper, the rivets that formed a line running down the side of the boiler began to pop. After five or six gave way to the pressure of the boiling water, the huge boiler shifted slightly to one side. The weight of the steal vessel, and the thousands of pounds of water it contained, pulled at the brackets that secured it to the walls of the basement. Despite the fact that it only shifted a few inches, the momentum created by such a massive amount of weight shook the entire building. Like dominoes, rivets failed more rapidly and popped of the side of the boiler. Some ricocheted off walls and the other boilers several times before bouncing to the ground. Finally, enough rivets failed and the skin of the boiler gave way. The boiler exploded with the force of a bomb. The heavy steal boiler lid was launched violently into the air, penetrating the ceiling of the basement and into the floors above. The massive explosion sent steam, debris and hot water in every direction. It destroyed everything in its path. The main beam that supported the interior floor of the psych ward was shattered within seconds of the explosion. The floor of the ward raised and fell two feet in a matter of seconds. It was as if some giant had kicked the underside of the ward with all of his might. Inside the ward walls, beams and columns came crashing down everywhere. In a matter of moments, the entire ward was devastated. Luckily, except for Laura, the floor was empty.
The ringing in Laura’s ears was intense and shrill. It was the first thing she noticed as she regained her consciousness. Or perhaps it was the acidy smell of smoke that first pulled her back into reality. She began to cough and instinctively she attempted get up off the floor and out of debris that surrounded her. Along with everything else in the ward, the force of the blast launched Laura into the air. She landed equally hard. Still confused, Laura began to realize that something terrible had just happened. She began feeling pain in her legs and in one arm. She tasted blood in her mouth and she started to get frightened. As she reclaimed her wits, she could feel that her legs were pinned under something extremely heavy, leaving them all but useless to her. She was trapped. The first aid training that she received in preparation for her internship told her that she needed help quickly. She could feel the onset of shock coming on and her fright was turning into panic. The smell of smoke got more intense and she could see black smoke rolling along the ceiling in every direction. Again she tried to free her trapped legs, but the harder she tried, the more they hurt. She could barely stand the pain. She needed help and she needed it now. She turned toward the stairs that led up to the ward to see if maybe a staffer would be coming up from the picnic to investigate or to help, but there was a wall of debris blocking the entrance to the ward. Then she looked out to the balcony. There stood Jack at the edge of the balcony. He hadn’t moved in the slightest. There he stood so tall and steady. She began to worry about him as well. She wanted Jack to be safe too. Laura began to hear the fire that was pushing the thick smoke into the ward. Then she began to feel the heat from the flames. Things were going from bad to worse quickly now. Laura had no other choice, she needed help right away. She looked toward the balcony and she called Jack’s name.
The man of steal heard the voice again. This time there was no mistaking it. It was the sound of a woman and she needed help. He began to scan the streets of the city below and focused all of his senses on finding her. Again he heard her cry for help. It was getting louder and more desperate. Then he spotted her. She was in the burning building. She was in trouble and he must act quickly to save her. That is Superman’s sole purpose; to save lives and he would save hers.
From the ground, Laura watched as Jack did something he hadn’t done in three years, he was moving with speed and purpose. He cut through the debris with agility and grace as he quickly made his way to her. When he got to her, he looked directly at her. They’d never made eye contact before. There was life in his eyes. His eyes were steely and focused. Without delay, he broke his gaze and went to where her legs were pinned. He tossed some debris aside uncovering a large steel beam that was pinning Laura’s legs. He reached down with both hands and, in what seemed like superhuman strength, lifted the beam off of her legs.
The fire had grown now. It was inside the ward and moving closer to Jack and Laura. The heat was becoming unbearable and the smoke was worse. Laura was coughing harder now. She could barely see the light coming through the windows. Even though Jack had miraculously freed her legs, she still could not move them. They were too severely injured. Jack quickly turned to face Laura again. Again their eyes met. He didn’t look frightened or concerned. Laura thought he looked determined. This gave her comfort. Jack reached down and put his arms under Laura’s waist and shoulders. Before she knew it, he had hoisted her up and was moving quickly back towards the balcony. Moving with the same quickness and agility as when he came to her rescue, he found the double doors leading to the balcony. Jack was running now. He was running straight for the edge of the balcony with Laura cradled tightly in his arms.
To safety, I will take her to safety NOW, and with that Superman leaped from the burning building with the injured woman wrapped safely in his hold. Into the air they soared.
There was chaos on the front lawn of the hospital. The staff was doing everything they could to keep the already panicked and frightened patients calm. The massive explosion brought a sudden halt to the festivities and sent the psychosis of all the patients into overdrive. Despite the mayhem, all eyes were on the third floor of the building because that’s where most of the smoke and flames were came. All at once a silence fell upon the crowd as they spotted a singular figure emerging from out of the black billowing smoke that heaved from the doors leading to the balcony off the room most of them would have been occupying on any other afternoon. It was Jack Todd and he was cradling something in his arms. The quickness at which he moved and the way he guarded his precious cargo made it difficult to tell what he had or what he was doing. One thing was sure, he was moving quickly toward the edge of the balcony. Dr. Strauss was the first to realize it and he yelled, “My God, he’s going to jump!” and there was a unified gasp across the lawn.
As Jack leaped from the edge of the balcony, time stood still. Every detail surrounding Jack’s leap became brilliant, starting with the whirl of black smoke that Jack left in his gentle wake. Rather than an uncontrolled fall to the ground, his exit from the balcony was that of a superhero. Like a highly trained athlete leaving the high dive, Jack’s body stiffened and his back arched. His long body held a graceful pitch and almost elegant line. He didn’t appear to be falling toward the ground, he appeared to be soaring. The incredible sight continued and in midflight, as if precisely timed and choreographed, Jack spun his body one half of a rotation so that he was facing the sky while gliding toward the earth. As he turned, everyone recognized what Jack was holding. It was Laura and he held her so tightly against his body, the two appeared as one. Her cradled body fit snug against Jack’s torso, her face buried in Jack’s chest. His graceful turn came just in time to keep Laura from being hit by the branches of the tree he’d leaped toward. As the two sped down through the tree, the sound of breaking branches echoed across the lawn. Jack’s back took the impact of the branches and never once did he loosen his protective hold around Laura. Laura too could hear the sound of the tree branches breaking around her. Too frightened to look, she kept her face buried in Jack’s chest. Strangely though, Laura had never felt safer in her entire life, a feeling that started the second Jack came to her rescue in the midst of the fire and smoke on the floor from which they had just departed. She felt safe in his arms. She truly trusted Jack. She felt safe.
Jack’s body landed on the ground with a sound of a solid thud and with a sharp but low bounce. Absorbing most of the shock, Jack’s body protected Laura from even the slightest discomfort from the hard landing that marked the end of their brief, yet miraculous, flight. On the ground they now lay, motionless, Jack still protectively holding Laura in his strong arms. Laura pulled her face back from his chest and looked up at Jack. His face was covered with dark soot and his eyes were closed. He did not move. She stared at the man who had just saved her life. Then, like a man awakening from a long deep sleep, Jack slowly opened his eyes and they met Laura’s eyes. A tear rolled down Laura’s cheek and she said, “My God, you are Superman”. Jack blinked slowly once, shook his head slightly, and he found words for the first time in three years, “No. I’m Jack Todd”.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Drust (some harsh language)
Drust had hard features. He was a hard man. He came from a hard family, from a hard place. The youngest of 5 brothers, Drust was used to having things hard. He’d fought for everything in life, from the last potato on the plate to the rights for any hand-me-down that infrequently became available. He was a taker. He had to be. Taking meant surviving in Drust’s world. His dad worked six, twelve hour days a week in a coal mine in some forgotten part of the landscape. A coal mine that produced black soot which seemed to make its way in to every part of Drust‘s life. By the time he was 16 he had reached six feet. His frame was long and sinewy and his jaw was rock solid. His features were angular, like most of those with eastern European lineage. He didn’t talk much. There wasn’t much worth saying. His coal mining town in West Virginia spit him out when he was 17 years old.
Few people find their calling in life, the perfect job. Drust found his though, correctional officer. It was a fancy way to dress up the words prison guard. It was supposed to make the job description sound less generic and more important. Some do-gooder, bureaucrat that’d never stepped foot in a prison must’ve come up with it after a pointless meeting or meaningless luncheon. Call it what you want, the job was still the same and that suited Drust just fine. He was a taker, a survivor in a prison full of takers and survivors. There was a fine line between those he watched and him. Some twist of fate or luck put him on the side of the line that got to go home after twelve hours of slamming hardened steel doors and listening to the ramblings of inmates trying to bring meaning to their lives by griping and complaining about how they’d been fucked by their attorney, the judge, their wife or the man. For Drust, home could’ve been either place, his one bedroom apartment off the main highway of “Nowheresville” or cell #223 in C block. It’s why he did his job well, if that’s what you call being feared enough by both colleagues and inmates alike to be left alone. He wasn’t feared by what he did or said, but by the perception of what might happen if forced to do or say something. He had a coldness, a hardness. His cold way was as intimidating as any smack with a belly club ever could be. Most figured Drust would just a soon kill you than bother with you if it came right down to it. They might’ve been right. After all, every day that passed, the line separating an apartment and a cell got finer and finer and the difference between being in one or the other got smaller.
Leon Bissel had served 25 years of his 25 to life sentence. Leon had been convicted of second degree murder for allegedly killing his 12 year old son, James. A widower, Leon’s only family was his son James. He lost his wife to cancer 7 years before the incident. His trial lasted 4 and half days and the jury was out for 49 minutes before bringing back the verdict. They must’ve felt bad for Leon, that’s why they didn’t go for the first degree charge that the ambitious d.a. was angling for. They realized Leon got railroaded a bit and that his half-ass, over worked public defender barely had time to learn Leon’s name, let alone familiarize himself with the case. They must’ve recognized the fact that the prosecutors case was full of holes and based on circumstantial evidence and that any one of the pimps or drug dealers that live in Leon’s building could’ve, and probably, committed the crime. But hey, that wasn’t their problem, ol’ Leon was a poor black man from the wrong part of town and had he not committed this crime, he’d surely done something in the past that was worth 25 years of his life. Far be it from them to buck the legal process. If the legal system’s fucked up, let the legal system fix it. Let some bureaucrat that creates fancy names for mundane jobs figure it out. Or maybe, they just felt bad for Leon because the only thing they saw of him during that short four and half day show was a slumped over man who cried pitifully, never once taking his face from his tear soaked hands. He cried like a man that had lost a loved one, not like a man that killed one. Shit, what difference did it make, prison or not, the poor man was lost to the world of pity anyhow.
Leon never really stopped crying. Eventually the tears dried up, but the sadness never left Leon’s eyes. Eyes that reflected the sadness of a broken hearted soul. You don’t find sad eyes in prison, emptiness for the most part, a lot of evil eyes that seem to project the fury that they’ve seen, but sad, not hardly. Drust noticed that about Leon. Hardened to the never ending flow of bullshit that masses in prison, somehow Leon’s sad eyes subtly found their way into Drust’s thoughts. It never really mattered much to Drust and he never gave it much thought beyond the fact that it was the only real emotion he’d allow himself to recognize in life. As far as Drust was concerned, Leon didn’t belong in this place. There was no room for pity or sadness here. He was out of place, an imperfection in a place that was perfectly hard. It’s probably why most of the cons left Leon alone. It’s why Leon did most of his time alone, routinely and quietly.
Because of his good behavior, Leon had long ago earned the right to become a trustee. It allowed him to participate on work details that took him out of the confines of the barbed wire, concrete painted corridors and the sites of the sharp shooter perched on their massive guard towers. These work details were usually groups of 5 to 7 trustees. They would perform manual labor for the State. Most times it was workin’ a shovel or collecting trash along the highway. One guard was all that was needed to oversee these details and the duty was rotated weekly. Drust was up to watch today’s detail. Recent heavy rains had eroded away some shallow, old graves in the Potters Field and it was up to the trustees to rebury the coffins that had become exposed. The Potters Field is where they laid inmates to rest who had no families or had families that had long forgotten their existence. This would be Leon’s last detail. Ironically, he’d spend one of his last days as a con in the company of inmates that never left prison. Leon had made parole and would be released within a few days. Drust was reminded of that fact when he went to Leon’s cell to shackle him for the days trip. When he opened the heavy cell door he found Leon sitting on his cot in his bleak gray cell, with a postcard in his hands. There he sat, staring at a picture of a vacant stretch of beach along the shoreline somewhere. There Leon sat, staring with his sad eyes at that picture, all yellow and tattered. By the looks of it, Drust figured ol’ Leon must’ve had it in his possession for years. Probably took it out every night and every morning and got lost in it, a momentary break from the sadness. Poor bastard was just making getting released even worse. No way in hell a man like Leon would make it past the cheap half- way house located just four miles from where they were standing, let alone to some vacant stretch of shore. Leon, like most parolees, was broke and would have to scrape for every dime just to afford a dingy one bedroom like Durst’s.
The detail arrived at the graveyard in mid morning. What needed to be done was plain to see and Drust wasn’t much on management anyway, so the men went to work. The job was a bit gruesome but still beat a day inside. Drust stood by quietly with his shotgun and coldly watched the men dig new graves and lower the old rotting coffins into them. The last grave was that of a jewel thief named Paul Jardin. Like most those that had been at the prison for any length of time, Drust remembered this con’s name more for the way he died then anything else. Jardin never made it through the gates of the prison. He tried his luck with an escape attempt that involved his jumping through a kicked out window of the bus that was transporting him and 25 other new inmates. His luck ran short when he was shot by two prison guards that escorted the bus. Leon and another con finished digging Jardin’s new grave and prepared to lower the coffin into the hole with two old hemp ropes. When Leon lifted one end of the box to make room for the other con to fish the first rope underneath it, the rotten box came splitting apart. Jardin’s corpse landed at Leon’s feet. While the other trustees made for cover, as if Jardin was going to rise from the dead like some Zombie, Leon froze and stared at the decomposing body.
Drust saw the treasure at the same time Leon did. No one else saw it. They were too busy running for cover. But Drust’s and Leon’s eyes captured it at the same time. A nondescript pouch, much like what a school boy would keep his marbles, had dropped from what was left of Jardin’s jacket. It lay there next to Jardin’s body. The cord meant to keep it closed had loosened either from the fall or from the years of laying in repose with its keeper. There was no mistaking the brilliant sparkle that emanated from the pouch. Even with the little sunlight that made its way through the broken overcast, the inside of the pouch shined white and brilliant. And there they stood, Leon and Drust, frozen. It’s said that a man’s entire life passes before his eyes in the instant before his death. At this moment, Drust’s life passed before his. It had been a life of few breaks, a life where nothing came easy, a life of only existing, a hard life…not much of a life at all. And there it was, those dozen or so tiny rocks that had been forgotten and written off as an insurance loss, could change his hard life forever. No more taking, no more living to survive, no more cons, or concrete corridors, no more barbed wire or lonely one room slums. A cleansing. There it was, the answer, hope and so simple. So easy.
The moment seemed to last hours when only seconds actually had passed. Drust took his eyes from the pouch to where Leon was standing. But what he saw was not Leon. It couldn’t be Leon. Those were not Leon’s eyes. They were the eyes of a man that had hope, not the sad eyes that Drust had seen day after day, week after week, year after year. Hope like that of Drust’s. And there they both stood. In that singular moment Leon and Drust were the same man, the same soul. Neither one more or less deserving of the answer that laid in the lose dirt before them. Both men knew that the moment to act was fleeting. Leon found himself moving his hand slowly and methodically toward the pouch, as if at such speed, his movement would not be detected. He continued until he felt the satchel in the grip of his dirt covered hand. He moved his hand back as slowly and methodically. Drust stood and watched. And as quickly as his life had passed before his eyes, now did Leon’s life. Drust realized that every diamond ever mined would never change his own life. His life was set for him the moment he cried his first tear and gasped his first breath of soot filled air. He was born to a hard life and nothing would change that. But Leon, he was different. His life wasn’t meant to be spent hard. His life wasn’t meant to be spent in the confines of a cell crying for lost love. His life wasn’t meant to be spent in a half way house occupied by hard ex cons. Those rocks didn’t belong to Drust any more than they belonged to Jardin. They belonged to Leon. It wasn’t as much about compassion as it was about setting things right. It was about balance. Leon never belonged in the life prison brought him. He didn’t fit in the world of empty and angry eyes. He belonged on some shoreline, gazing at the distant horizon that would slowly but surely drain the sadness from his soul. That is what is right.
Drust loaded the detail back into the van and returned them to their cells. No words about the incident were ever exchanged between Leon and Drust. In fact, in the four days that came and went before Leon’s departure, Drust never even saw Leon again. Drust put Leon and the incident out of his mind to shelter himself from a lifetime of what if’s and shoud haves.
One day, about a year after Leon’s release. Drust received a piece of mail, a yellow tattered post card with a picture of some vacant shoreline. It carried the postmark of a town in Georgia and simply read, “Thank you. Leon”.
Many people think that a guardian angel is with you for a lifetime and wears a perfect untarnished halo. Sometimes a guardian angel is with you for a moment and wears a halo that is scratched and bent and all covered with soot.
Few people find their calling in life, the perfect job. Drust found his though, correctional officer. It was a fancy way to dress up the words prison guard. It was supposed to make the job description sound less generic and more important. Some do-gooder, bureaucrat that’d never stepped foot in a prison must’ve come up with it after a pointless meeting or meaningless luncheon. Call it what you want, the job was still the same and that suited Drust just fine. He was a taker, a survivor in a prison full of takers and survivors. There was a fine line between those he watched and him. Some twist of fate or luck put him on the side of the line that got to go home after twelve hours of slamming hardened steel doors and listening to the ramblings of inmates trying to bring meaning to their lives by griping and complaining about how they’d been fucked by their attorney, the judge, their wife or the man. For Drust, home could’ve been either place, his one bedroom apartment off the main highway of “Nowheresville” or cell #223 in C block. It’s why he did his job well, if that’s what you call being feared enough by both colleagues and inmates alike to be left alone. He wasn’t feared by what he did or said, but by the perception of what might happen if forced to do or say something. He had a coldness, a hardness. His cold way was as intimidating as any smack with a belly club ever could be. Most figured Drust would just a soon kill you than bother with you if it came right down to it. They might’ve been right. After all, every day that passed, the line separating an apartment and a cell got finer and finer and the difference between being in one or the other got smaller.
Leon Bissel had served 25 years of his 25 to life sentence. Leon had been convicted of second degree murder for allegedly killing his 12 year old son, James. A widower, Leon’s only family was his son James. He lost his wife to cancer 7 years before the incident. His trial lasted 4 and half days and the jury was out for 49 minutes before bringing back the verdict. They must’ve felt bad for Leon, that’s why they didn’t go for the first degree charge that the ambitious d.a. was angling for. They realized Leon got railroaded a bit and that his half-ass, over worked public defender barely had time to learn Leon’s name, let alone familiarize himself with the case. They must’ve recognized the fact that the prosecutors case was full of holes and based on circumstantial evidence and that any one of the pimps or drug dealers that live in Leon’s building could’ve, and probably, committed the crime. But hey, that wasn’t their problem, ol’ Leon was a poor black man from the wrong part of town and had he not committed this crime, he’d surely done something in the past that was worth 25 years of his life. Far be it from them to buck the legal process. If the legal system’s fucked up, let the legal system fix it. Let some bureaucrat that creates fancy names for mundane jobs figure it out. Or maybe, they just felt bad for Leon because the only thing they saw of him during that short four and half day show was a slumped over man who cried pitifully, never once taking his face from his tear soaked hands. He cried like a man that had lost a loved one, not like a man that killed one. Shit, what difference did it make, prison or not, the poor man was lost to the world of pity anyhow.
Leon never really stopped crying. Eventually the tears dried up, but the sadness never left Leon’s eyes. Eyes that reflected the sadness of a broken hearted soul. You don’t find sad eyes in prison, emptiness for the most part, a lot of evil eyes that seem to project the fury that they’ve seen, but sad, not hardly. Drust noticed that about Leon. Hardened to the never ending flow of bullshit that masses in prison, somehow Leon’s sad eyes subtly found their way into Drust’s thoughts. It never really mattered much to Drust and he never gave it much thought beyond the fact that it was the only real emotion he’d allow himself to recognize in life. As far as Drust was concerned, Leon didn’t belong in this place. There was no room for pity or sadness here. He was out of place, an imperfection in a place that was perfectly hard. It’s probably why most of the cons left Leon alone. It’s why Leon did most of his time alone, routinely and quietly.
Because of his good behavior, Leon had long ago earned the right to become a trustee. It allowed him to participate on work details that took him out of the confines of the barbed wire, concrete painted corridors and the sites of the sharp shooter perched on their massive guard towers. These work details were usually groups of 5 to 7 trustees. They would perform manual labor for the State. Most times it was workin’ a shovel or collecting trash along the highway. One guard was all that was needed to oversee these details and the duty was rotated weekly. Drust was up to watch today’s detail. Recent heavy rains had eroded away some shallow, old graves in the Potters Field and it was up to the trustees to rebury the coffins that had become exposed. The Potters Field is where they laid inmates to rest who had no families or had families that had long forgotten their existence. This would be Leon’s last detail. Ironically, he’d spend one of his last days as a con in the company of inmates that never left prison. Leon had made parole and would be released within a few days. Drust was reminded of that fact when he went to Leon’s cell to shackle him for the days trip. When he opened the heavy cell door he found Leon sitting on his cot in his bleak gray cell, with a postcard in his hands. There he sat, staring at a picture of a vacant stretch of beach along the shoreline somewhere. There Leon sat, staring with his sad eyes at that picture, all yellow and tattered. By the looks of it, Drust figured ol’ Leon must’ve had it in his possession for years. Probably took it out every night and every morning and got lost in it, a momentary break from the sadness. Poor bastard was just making getting released even worse. No way in hell a man like Leon would make it past the cheap half- way house located just four miles from where they were standing, let alone to some vacant stretch of shore. Leon, like most parolees, was broke and would have to scrape for every dime just to afford a dingy one bedroom like Durst’s.
The detail arrived at the graveyard in mid morning. What needed to be done was plain to see and Drust wasn’t much on management anyway, so the men went to work. The job was a bit gruesome but still beat a day inside. Drust stood by quietly with his shotgun and coldly watched the men dig new graves and lower the old rotting coffins into them. The last grave was that of a jewel thief named Paul Jardin. Like most those that had been at the prison for any length of time, Drust remembered this con’s name more for the way he died then anything else. Jardin never made it through the gates of the prison. He tried his luck with an escape attempt that involved his jumping through a kicked out window of the bus that was transporting him and 25 other new inmates. His luck ran short when he was shot by two prison guards that escorted the bus. Leon and another con finished digging Jardin’s new grave and prepared to lower the coffin into the hole with two old hemp ropes. When Leon lifted one end of the box to make room for the other con to fish the first rope underneath it, the rotten box came splitting apart. Jardin’s corpse landed at Leon’s feet. While the other trustees made for cover, as if Jardin was going to rise from the dead like some Zombie, Leon froze and stared at the decomposing body.
Drust saw the treasure at the same time Leon did. No one else saw it. They were too busy running for cover. But Drust’s and Leon’s eyes captured it at the same time. A nondescript pouch, much like what a school boy would keep his marbles, had dropped from what was left of Jardin’s jacket. It lay there next to Jardin’s body. The cord meant to keep it closed had loosened either from the fall or from the years of laying in repose with its keeper. There was no mistaking the brilliant sparkle that emanated from the pouch. Even with the little sunlight that made its way through the broken overcast, the inside of the pouch shined white and brilliant. And there they stood, Leon and Drust, frozen. It’s said that a man’s entire life passes before his eyes in the instant before his death. At this moment, Drust’s life passed before his. It had been a life of few breaks, a life where nothing came easy, a life of only existing, a hard life…not much of a life at all. And there it was, those dozen or so tiny rocks that had been forgotten and written off as an insurance loss, could change his hard life forever. No more taking, no more living to survive, no more cons, or concrete corridors, no more barbed wire or lonely one room slums. A cleansing. There it was, the answer, hope and so simple. So easy.
The moment seemed to last hours when only seconds actually had passed. Drust took his eyes from the pouch to where Leon was standing. But what he saw was not Leon. It couldn’t be Leon. Those were not Leon’s eyes. They were the eyes of a man that had hope, not the sad eyes that Drust had seen day after day, week after week, year after year. Hope like that of Drust’s. And there they both stood. In that singular moment Leon and Drust were the same man, the same soul. Neither one more or less deserving of the answer that laid in the lose dirt before them. Both men knew that the moment to act was fleeting. Leon found himself moving his hand slowly and methodically toward the pouch, as if at such speed, his movement would not be detected. He continued until he felt the satchel in the grip of his dirt covered hand. He moved his hand back as slowly and methodically. Drust stood and watched. And as quickly as his life had passed before his eyes, now did Leon’s life. Drust realized that every diamond ever mined would never change his own life. His life was set for him the moment he cried his first tear and gasped his first breath of soot filled air. He was born to a hard life and nothing would change that. But Leon, he was different. His life wasn’t meant to be spent hard. His life wasn’t meant to be spent in the confines of a cell crying for lost love. His life wasn’t meant to be spent in a half way house occupied by hard ex cons. Those rocks didn’t belong to Drust any more than they belonged to Jardin. They belonged to Leon. It wasn’t as much about compassion as it was about setting things right. It was about balance. Leon never belonged in the life prison brought him. He didn’t fit in the world of empty and angry eyes. He belonged on some shoreline, gazing at the distant horizon that would slowly but surely drain the sadness from his soul. That is what is right.
Drust loaded the detail back into the van and returned them to their cells. No words about the incident were ever exchanged between Leon and Drust. In fact, in the four days that came and went before Leon’s departure, Drust never even saw Leon again. Drust put Leon and the incident out of his mind to shelter himself from a lifetime of what if’s and shoud haves.
One day, about a year after Leon’s release. Drust received a piece of mail, a yellow tattered post card with a picture of some vacant shoreline. It carried the postmark of a town in Georgia and simply read, “Thank you. Leon”.
Many people think that a guardian angel is with you for a lifetime and wears a perfect untarnished halo. Sometimes a guardian angel is with you for a moment and wears a halo that is scratched and bent and all covered with soot.
Friday, May 6, 2011
The Greenskeeper
The sound of my footsteps on the damp, finely manicured fairway is the only sound in the Arroyo this night. Like every other evening, darkness lays a blanket of silence over the course where just a few hours before the echoes of golfers celebrating birdies and bemoaning defeat were heard. I walk these stretches of long green turf, through the gauntlet of sculptured magnificent Oaks every night, and have since the beginning of time, or at least it seems.
I’ve walked these greens in the dead of winter when frost sparkles in the moonlight like millions of diamonds strewn across the ground and thick clouds from the West threaten to powder the foothills with an unexpected snow.
I’ve walked these greens in autumn as the Santa Ana’s blew their warm dry winds through the valley, coaxing the leaves of the great Oaks to quietly applaud my repertoire of lonely old ballads that I whistle as I stroll.
I’ve walked these greens on summer nights when dusk lasts forever and casts its shadows against Baldy’s reaching slopes, a picture that could only be suitably painted with verse or lyric.
I have walked these greens in spring. The sweet sights and sounds of new life are abundant then, as is the smell of nature; conjuring up memories of my childhood when winter coats are stowed away and short pants and t-shirts came out for play.
My nightly journey takes me past the grand rose crested arena built for battles between ferocious bears and brave mythical gladiators. The thunderous fanfare only serves to make the silence of the night more poignant when the great stadium has emptied and is quiet until the next battle is fought.
On my nightly journey I’ve been joined by owls with wings that span wider than I stand, by deer that cautiously accept me into their quiet homes, by gophers and snakes, raccoons and lions; all returning to me, their visitor, the kind respect that I offer to them.
I came here when my first was born and when my father passed; too vulnerable to cry, these greens took my tears.
This place is where I come to pray, without words or crosses or bended knee, for God is all around me here and I fret not His ear. He hears me, of that I’m sure.
I will walk these greens forever and more, just like the ones before. Every night you will find me here. For these are the greens I keep… and these are the greens that keep me.
I’ve walked these greens in the dead of winter when frost sparkles in the moonlight like millions of diamonds strewn across the ground and thick clouds from the West threaten to powder the foothills with an unexpected snow.
I’ve walked these greens in autumn as the Santa Ana’s blew their warm dry winds through the valley, coaxing the leaves of the great Oaks to quietly applaud my repertoire of lonely old ballads that I whistle as I stroll.
I’ve walked these greens on summer nights when dusk lasts forever and casts its shadows against Baldy’s reaching slopes, a picture that could only be suitably painted with verse or lyric.
I have walked these greens in spring. The sweet sights and sounds of new life are abundant then, as is the smell of nature; conjuring up memories of my childhood when winter coats are stowed away and short pants and t-shirts came out for play.
My nightly journey takes me past the grand rose crested arena built for battles between ferocious bears and brave mythical gladiators. The thunderous fanfare only serves to make the silence of the night more poignant when the great stadium has emptied and is quiet until the next battle is fought.
On my nightly journey I’ve been joined by owls with wings that span wider than I stand, by deer that cautiously accept me into their quiet homes, by gophers and snakes, raccoons and lions; all returning to me, their visitor, the kind respect that I offer to them.
I came here when my first was born and when my father passed; too vulnerable to cry, these greens took my tears.
This place is where I come to pray, without words or crosses or bended knee, for God is all around me here and I fret not His ear. He hears me, of that I’m sure.
I will walk these greens forever and more, just like the ones before. Every night you will find me here. For these are the greens I keep… and these are the greens that keep me.
Faith and Mercy
Faith was poised on the back of the sofa with her trusty companion Mercy, the miracle dog. Leaning on the corduroy cushions, both peered out the window at the front yard as Mother Nature turned Fall into Winter without regard for the calendar. The first snow of the season fell with a whisper and reminded Faith of when her mother sprinkled powder sugar on top of brownies. Mercy mimicked the look of anticipation on Faith’s face as well as her pose and posture. Faith’s mother couldn’t help but smile at the sight that was framed perfectly in the reflection in the pane of the front window of the living room. She imagined Hallmark would love to have this scene on the front of this year’s Christmas card. Faith barely noticed her mom come into the room and Mercy, the miracle dogs, only acknowledgement was a quick wag of his tail.
“Faith, honey, you’ll be late for school”,
Faith’s mother spoke softly so as not to startle her eight year old daughter and she felt as though her comment was an interruption to something more important than a prompt arrival to school.
“O.k., mommy. But Mercy, the miracle dog and me are just gonna wait for him a little longer”, answered Faith in a hopeful and cheery tone.
“Wait, honey? Wait for what?”, asked her mother, a question that begged an endless possibility of answers.
Faith’s imagination was vivid and extraordinary, even for an eight-year-old girl. It’s one of the reasons that Faith dubbed that funny little beagle of hers Mercy the Miracle Dog. Miracle dog indeed.
“Frosty, mommy, me and Mercy are waiting for Frosty to come back.”
“Oh god, that was the day of days”, thought Faith’s mother. The day Frosty the snowman appeared near the front driveway. It was the coldest spring Flynt Michigan had seen in years. And the hardest and coldest snow came at the end. Faith’s mother tried to hide her tears when she picked Faith up from school that day. She’d been laid off. After 13 years she was given a speech about automation or slow sales or manpower or seniority or something by someone from Human Resources that seemed more concerned with how sincere the speech sounded than the true impact of its content. She was given a three months pay and some other lingering benefits and was allowed 30 minutes to clear the belongings from her desk. Three months pay wouldn’t go far considering that she was a single parent and, among other things, had a mortgage for the home that she refused to give up even after the financial realities of the loss of Faith’s father became apparent some years before. Luckily, Faith barely noticed her mother’s despair as she filled the car with a detailed account of her day at school. The short ride home ended with the same question that it had for the past week and a half.
“Mommy, what shall we name our puppy?”
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know. It’s up to you”, the same answer that Faith’s mother provided each time the question was asked.
“One more mouth to feed”, she thought, “Just what I need”. Faith’s mother thought that eight was an appropriate age for a young girl to have a puppy. Faith had all but begged for a puppy for her birthday for months. The first time Faith set eyes on that dog she knew it was special. Faith’s mother finally gave in to Faith; more from the look of adoration in her daughter’s eyes then the endless requests for a new puppy.
Upon entering the house that fateful day, Faith was greeted by a wet nose, a tail that sped from side to side and a piddle on the floor. Faith began recounting her day to her faithful companion as he jumped excitedly at her knees.
“Faith, honey, take him out so he can do his business. But be quick about it, it’s freezing out there… and don’t forget his leash and collar, honey.”
“Come on boy”, Faith urged as she corralled her puppy out the side door.
The cold air struck Faith’s mother and brought her back to the reality that the day’s events had given. She watched Faith and wondered how and where she would find another job. The thought of needing work and paying bills and the care of her small family was overwhelming.
As Faith’s mother opened the day’s mail, she instinctively glanced outside to check on Faith and her puppy. “Where on earth did that come from?” She silently asked as she observed Faith apparently having a conversation with a snowman that was standing along the front curb. “I don’t remember seeing him on the way up the driveway.” How could she have missed him remained a mystery to this day. He was the perfect snowman, complete with three pyramiding, neatly packed, balls of snow, a black top hat, red scarf, corn cob pipe, perfectly shaped tree branches for arms and clumps of coal that gave him happy, smiling features. Faith looked perfectly comfortable talking to him and would pause momentarily and nod as if listening to what seemed to be a thoughtful response. The picture took the sting of the day away for a moment and Faith’s mother never ceased to be amazed at the wonder her daughter’s imagination could stir. Suddenly the moment was interrupted and serenity was quickly becoming tragedy. Like the snowman, it appeared from nowhere. A large black truck that had lost traction was sliding uncontrollably toward Faith, her new friend and puppy. There was no way Faith would see the impending doom because, as if staged, at the exact same moment the truck appeared, Faiths attention was drawn toward chasing her puppy as he wandered toward the street.
“Dear God!” Faith’s mother screamed as she rushed toward the front door to warn Faith. “Why didn’t she leash that dog!!?? She’ll be killed!!”
She flung open the door only with enough time to bear witness to the calamity that was unfolding right in front of her. Faith was leaning over picking up her puppy and was completely oblivious to the 3,000 pounds of spinning metal that targeted the area where she gathered her dog. Fear and shock paralyzed Faith’s mother as the scene continued to unfold, until from the corner of her eye she caught a vision of hope. Positioned between Faith and her cuddled dog and the oncoming mass was the snowman. It was absolutely miraculous. Without time to consider what possible barricade a snowman could be against a spinning truck; it happened. The truck slammed into the stout figure with enough force to down a telephone pole. Then it came to a sudden and abrupt stop. Snow and ice filled the air, most of which fell on Faith and the puppy that she now clutched in her arms as she knelt speechless in the snow. Faith’s mother ran to her daughter and they met in the center of the front lawn.
“Oh dear God sweetie, are you alright?”
“Sure mommy, I’m fine and so’s Mercy”.
At that moment, the door of the truck flew open and a middle aged man appeared. His face was gray and he was as in much shock as all the others that stood on the cold front yard. He quickly approached the small gathering and in a desperate hopeful voice asked,
“Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re all o.k.” Faith’s mother reassured, “and Thank God for that snowman”, Faith’s mother added as the shock began to wear off.
“Snowman?” asked the driver as he entered the relieved state that was draining the charged energy and emotion from everyone.
“Yes, that…” and as Faith’s mother pointed to where the snowman stood vigilantly, she saw nothing.
The impact of the truck had completely obliterated him.
“Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what stopped me. I didn’t see a thing, just your daughter and her dog. Dear God, I just prayed that I didn’t kill her”.
As Faith’s mother heard his words she assumed that accident occurred too quickly for the man to have seen their white, frosty savior.
“Well it’s freezing out here and everyone’s fine. I’m going to get us back into the house”, Faith’s mother nodded to the man as if a schoolteacher dismissing a student. The man took her lead and walked back to his truck and left.
Faith’s mother cradled Faith in her arms and Faith held Mercy in the same fashion. “Faith, I told you to leash that dog when you take him outdoors”, she said in a firm loving voice.
“I will mommy. I’ll train Mercy to fetch the leash for me.”
“Mercy? When did you decide he would be Mercy?” she quizzed.
“Just now mommy. Frosty said I should call my puppy Mercy. He said that I should take care of Mercy the way he’ll take care of me”.
“He did, did he?”
“Yes, mommy. Frosty said that Mercy would be a good name for a dog that was soooo special. We’ll call him Mercy the Miracle Dog”.
Faith’s mother looked down at the Faith’s angelic face and smile and glanced down at the beagle that rested comfortably in her lap. She praised the one that put that snowman in their front yard and thought, “Miracle dog indeed”. Faith’s wondrous imagination brought a welcome end to the chaos that had just past.
The next several months were difficult for this little family. Money was tight and on more that one occasion Faith’s mother wondered where she would find enough money to put a decent meal together. She often caught Faith secretly feeding Mercy food that she had snuck from her plate in a paper napkin. Faith’s mother pretended not to see her daughter tending to her best friend. Faith loved that dog and spent many hours playing with him, talking with him and loving him. They were inseparable.
Now, they sat, the two of them, staring out at the first snow lightly falling on the front yard.
“Sweetie, you’re going to be late for school, now you get to the table and eat your breakfast, and don’t forget to take Mercy out… and don’t forget his leash.”
“OK, mommy”. Faith trotted toward the kitchen with Mercy in tow.
The telephone rang as Faith and Mercy disappeared into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Engle?” asked the mans voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes” answered Faith’s mother.
“My name is Rogers, David Rogers”.
“Yes Mr. Rogers how can I help you?”
“I’m calling about the resume you submitted”, he answered.
Faith’s mother’s attention was suddenly turned to the sound of the side door in the kitchen slamming followed by the sound of a little girl’s feet, and her puppies, quickly approaching. “Mommy, Mommy, he’s back!!” Faith yelled between breaths.
“Faith, honey, mommy’s on the telephone”.
“I beg your pardon Mrs. Engle”, Mr. Rogers was confused as his dialogue became a three way conversation.
“I’m sorry Mr. Rogers, my daughter is…”
But Faith’s mother’s explanation was interrupted as again Faith pleaded, “Mommy, he’s back!”
Now Faith’s declaration was accompanied by a tug on the sleeve, “Come see, mommy come see!!” Mercy added two quick barks for emphasis.
“Mr. Rogers, I’m so sorry. My daughter is…”
Mr. Rogers interrupted, “Oh don’t worry Mrs. Engle, I have little ones at home that are beside themselves because of this early snow as well. I just wanted to let you know that the job you applied for is yours. I’d love for you to start on Monday. I’ll have someone from personnel call with the particulars.”
“Oh thank you Mr. Rogers. Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. I can’t thank you enough.” Faith’s mother was almost in tears.
“Somehow I think I do have an idea and you’re welcome. Good day Mrs. Engle”.
Faith’s mother hung up the telephone and a smile grew on her face and a tear ran down her cheek.
“Now, honey, who’s back? What are you so anxious about?”
“Frosty’s back, mommy come look and see. He came back just like he said”. Faith no longer had to coax her mother to the front window; she took the lead of this small parade.
They all stopped at once at the front window. “See mommy, see. He’s right there.”
And there he stood on the same spot he stood last, with his black top hat, red scarf, tree branch limbs, corn cob pipe and charcoal smile. The family of three stood at the window without words. Faith broke the silence,
“He told me he’d come back and he did, mommy.”
“He sure did”, Faith’s mother thought, “and God bless the kind soul that brought us old Frosty”.
Suddenly Faith’s mother heard the lyrics in her head, “I’ll be back again someday”.
“Who was that on the phone, mommy?” Faith asked.
“A job, honey, mommy got a new job”, but her answer couldn’t drown out the lyric that continued to play, “I’ll be back again someday…”
“Faith, honey, you’ll be late for school”,
Faith’s mother spoke softly so as not to startle her eight year old daughter and she felt as though her comment was an interruption to something more important than a prompt arrival to school.
“O.k., mommy. But Mercy, the miracle dog and me are just gonna wait for him a little longer”, answered Faith in a hopeful and cheery tone.
“Wait, honey? Wait for what?”, asked her mother, a question that begged an endless possibility of answers.
Faith’s imagination was vivid and extraordinary, even for an eight-year-old girl. It’s one of the reasons that Faith dubbed that funny little beagle of hers Mercy the Miracle Dog. Miracle dog indeed.
“Frosty, mommy, me and Mercy are waiting for Frosty to come back.”
“Oh god, that was the day of days”, thought Faith’s mother. The day Frosty the snowman appeared near the front driveway. It was the coldest spring Flynt Michigan had seen in years. And the hardest and coldest snow came at the end. Faith’s mother tried to hide her tears when she picked Faith up from school that day. She’d been laid off. After 13 years she was given a speech about automation or slow sales or manpower or seniority or something by someone from Human Resources that seemed more concerned with how sincere the speech sounded than the true impact of its content. She was given a three months pay and some other lingering benefits and was allowed 30 minutes to clear the belongings from her desk. Three months pay wouldn’t go far considering that she was a single parent and, among other things, had a mortgage for the home that she refused to give up even after the financial realities of the loss of Faith’s father became apparent some years before. Luckily, Faith barely noticed her mother’s despair as she filled the car with a detailed account of her day at school. The short ride home ended with the same question that it had for the past week and a half.
“Mommy, what shall we name our puppy?”
“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know. It’s up to you”, the same answer that Faith’s mother provided each time the question was asked.
“One more mouth to feed”, she thought, “Just what I need”. Faith’s mother thought that eight was an appropriate age for a young girl to have a puppy. Faith had all but begged for a puppy for her birthday for months. The first time Faith set eyes on that dog she knew it was special. Faith’s mother finally gave in to Faith; more from the look of adoration in her daughter’s eyes then the endless requests for a new puppy.
Upon entering the house that fateful day, Faith was greeted by a wet nose, a tail that sped from side to side and a piddle on the floor. Faith began recounting her day to her faithful companion as he jumped excitedly at her knees.
“Faith, honey, take him out so he can do his business. But be quick about it, it’s freezing out there… and don’t forget his leash and collar, honey.”
“Come on boy”, Faith urged as she corralled her puppy out the side door.
The cold air struck Faith’s mother and brought her back to the reality that the day’s events had given. She watched Faith and wondered how and where she would find another job. The thought of needing work and paying bills and the care of her small family was overwhelming.
As Faith’s mother opened the day’s mail, she instinctively glanced outside to check on Faith and her puppy. “Where on earth did that come from?” She silently asked as she observed Faith apparently having a conversation with a snowman that was standing along the front curb. “I don’t remember seeing him on the way up the driveway.” How could she have missed him remained a mystery to this day. He was the perfect snowman, complete with three pyramiding, neatly packed, balls of snow, a black top hat, red scarf, corn cob pipe, perfectly shaped tree branches for arms and clumps of coal that gave him happy, smiling features. Faith looked perfectly comfortable talking to him and would pause momentarily and nod as if listening to what seemed to be a thoughtful response. The picture took the sting of the day away for a moment and Faith’s mother never ceased to be amazed at the wonder her daughter’s imagination could stir. Suddenly the moment was interrupted and serenity was quickly becoming tragedy. Like the snowman, it appeared from nowhere. A large black truck that had lost traction was sliding uncontrollably toward Faith, her new friend and puppy. There was no way Faith would see the impending doom because, as if staged, at the exact same moment the truck appeared, Faiths attention was drawn toward chasing her puppy as he wandered toward the street.
“Dear God!” Faith’s mother screamed as she rushed toward the front door to warn Faith. “Why didn’t she leash that dog!!?? She’ll be killed!!”
She flung open the door only with enough time to bear witness to the calamity that was unfolding right in front of her. Faith was leaning over picking up her puppy and was completely oblivious to the 3,000 pounds of spinning metal that targeted the area where she gathered her dog. Fear and shock paralyzed Faith’s mother as the scene continued to unfold, until from the corner of her eye she caught a vision of hope. Positioned between Faith and her cuddled dog and the oncoming mass was the snowman. It was absolutely miraculous. Without time to consider what possible barricade a snowman could be against a spinning truck; it happened. The truck slammed into the stout figure with enough force to down a telephone pole. Then it came to a sudden and abrupt stop. Snow and ice filled the air, most of which fell on Faith and the puppy that she now clutched in her arms as she knelt speechless in the snow. Faith’s mother ran to her daughter and they met in the center of the front lawn.
“Oh dear God sweetie, are you alright?”
“Sure mommy, I’m fine and so’s Mercy”.
At that moment, the door of the truck flew open and a middle aged man appeared. His face was gray and he was as in much shock as all the others that stood on the cold front yard. He quickly approached the small gathering and in a desperate hopeful voice asked,
“Is anyone hurt?”
“We’re all o.k.” Faith’s mother reassured, “and Thank God for that snowman”, Faith’s mother added as the shock began to wear off.
“Snowman?” asked the driver as he entered the relieved state that was draining the charged energy and emotion from everyone.
“Yes, that…” and as Faith’s mother pointed to where the snowman stood vigilantly, she saw nothing.
The impact of the truck had completely obliterated him.
“Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know what stopped me. I didn’t see a thing, just your daughter and her dog. Dear God, I just prayed that I didn’t kill her”.
As Faith’s mother heard his words she assumed that accident occurred too quickly for the man to have seen their white, frosty savior.
“Well it’s freezing out here and everyone’s fine. I’m going to get us back into the house”, Faith’s mother nodded to the man as if a schoolteacher dismissing a student. The man took her lead and walked back to his truck and left.
Faith’s mother cradled Faith in her arms and Faith held Mercy in the same fashion. “Faith, I told you to leash that dog when you take him outdoors”, she said in a firm loving voice.
“I will mommy. I’ll train Mercy to fetch the leash for me.”
“Mercy? When did you decide he would be Mercy?” she quizzed.
“Just now mommy. Frosty said I should call my puppy Mercy. He said that I should take care of Mercy the way he’ll take care of me”.
“He did, did he?”
“Yes, mommy. Frosty said that Mercy would be a good name for a dog that was soooo special. We’ll call him Mercy the Miracle Dog”.
Faith’s mother looked down at the Faith’s angelic face and smile and glanced down at the beagle that rested comfortably in her lap. She praised the one that put that snowman in their front yard and thought, “Miracle dog indeed”. Faith’s wondrous imagination brought a welcome end to the chaos that had just past.
The next several months were difficult for this little family. Money was tight and on more that one occasion Faith’s mother wondered where she would find enough money to put a decent meal together. She often caught Faith secretly feeding Mercy food that she had snuck from her plate in a paper napkin. Faith’s mother pretended not to see her daughter tending to her best friend. Faith loved that dog and spent many hours playing with him, talking with him and loving him. They were inseparable.
Now, they sat, the two of them, staring out at the first snow lightly falling on the front yard.
“Sweetie, you’re going to be late for school, now you get to the table and eat your breakfast, and don’t forget to take Mercy out… and don’t forget his leash.”
“OK, mommy”. Faith trotted toward the kitchen with Mercy in tow.
The telephone rang as Faith and Mercy disappeared into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Engle?” asked the mans voice on the other end of the line.
“Yes” answered Faith’s mother.
“My name is Rogers, David Rogers”.
“Yes Mr. Rogers how can I help you?”
“I’m calling about the resume you submitted”, he answered.
Faith’s mother’s attention was suddenly turned to the sound of the side door in the kitchen slamming followed by the sound of a little girl’s feet, and her puppies, quickly approaching. “Mommy, Mommy, he’s back!!” Faith yelled between breaths.
“Faith, honey, mommy’s on the telephone”.
“I beg your pardon Mrs. Engle”, Mr. Rogers was confused as his dialogue became a three way conversation.
“I’m sorry Mr. Rogers, my daughter is…”
But Faith’s mother’s explanation was interrupted as again Faith pleaded, “Mommy, he’s back!”
Now Faith’s declaration was accompanied by a tug on the sleeve, “Come see, mommy come see!!” Mercy added two quick barks for emphasis.
“Mr. Rogers, I’m so sorry. My daughter is…”
Mr. Rogers interrupted, “Oh don’t worry Mrs. Engle, I have little ones at home that are beside themselves because of this early snow as well. I just wanted to let you know that the job you applied for is yours. I’d love for you to start on Monday. I’ll have someone from personnel call with the particulars.”
“Oh thank you Mr. Rogers. Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me. I can’t thank you enough.” Faith’s mother was almost in tears.
“Somehow I think I do have an idea and you’re welcome. Good day Mrs. Engle”.
Faith’s mother hung up the telephone and a smile grew on her face and a tear ran down her cheek.
“Now, honey, who’s back? What are you so anxious about?”
“Frosty’s back, mommy come look and see. He came back just like he said”. Faith no longer had to coax her mother to the front window; she took the lead of this small parade.
They all stopped at once at the front window. “See mommy, see. He’s right there.”
And there he stood on the same spot he stood last, with his black top hat, red scarf, tree branch limbs, corn cob pipe and charcoal smile. The family of three stood at the window without words. Faith broke the silence,
“He told me he’d come back and he did, mommy.”
“He sure did”, Faith’s mother thought, “and God bless the kind soul that brought us old Frosty”.
Suddenly Faith’s mother heard the lyrics in her head, “I’ll be back again someday”.
“Who was that on the phone, mommy?” Faith asked.
“A job, honey, mommy got a new job”, but her answer couldn’t drown out the lyric that continued to play, “I’ll be back again someday…”
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Story of M.K.
M.K. was a sweet and precious little nine year old girl. She smiled all the time. She was a bright shining light. She made everyone she met smile. She even made the butterflies grin. M.K. was a smart little girl. She was very creative and had a wonderful imagination. She was always happy. M.K. was very, very unique and special and she did one thing that no other little girl in the world did… she never spoke. Not a single word single word came from her smiling mouth. When M.K. wanted to say something she would take her pointer finger and make a drawing in the air. She was very good at drawing and everyone understood exactly what she was meant to say.
One day, while playing in the backyard after school, M.K. decided she wanted a puppy. She went into the house to ask her mommy and daddy if she could have one. She stepped into the middle of the den where her mommy and daddy were, put her finger in the air and began drawing a puppy dog. Her parents smiled and when she was done her father said, “Oh M.K., a dog is a very big responsibility for a little girl. A dog needs to be fed and walked and dogs need baths just like you do.” M.K.s mother added, “and M.K., honey, most of all, a puppy needs to be loved.” M.K. smiled as she listened to her parents and when they were done, she put her finger in the air. She drew a picture of a dog bowl full of food and nodded her head. She drew a picture of a leash and again nodded her head. She finished by drawing a huge heart in the air and she nodded and grinned. Well, M.K.’s parents couldn’t resist her charm and the next day M.K.’s daddy brought her home the cutest, warmest, cuddliest puppy that ever was.
M.K. loved her new puppy very much. She took care of it just like she promised. She played with her puppy every day when she got home from school. One day when she came home, she changed into her play clothes and went out to the back yard to play with her puppy. But her puppy was not there. There was a hole dug under the fence where her puppy had gotten out of the yard. M.K. ran into the house, grabbed her mother, and quickly drew a picture of her puppy in the air and then drew a question mark. Her mother gasped and said, “OH NO, your puppy is gone????” M.K. nodded her head rapidly. Her mother told her to go out in the back yard and look everywhere and that maybe he was still there. M.K. ran back into the yard and looked everywhere, but couldn’t find her puppy. She knew he had run away. M.K. stopped and looked up toward heaven. She drew a picture of her puppy and then drew a question mark. But when she put the dot at the bottom of the question mark, a most amazing thing happened; a beautiful bright sparkling light appeared right where her finger made the dot. It was like a hidden shimmering light in the air that had been turned on by the touch of her finger. M.K knew right then and there, that where her finger was pointed was where she would find her puppy. She ran out the gate in that direction and a few houses away she found her puppy in the neighbor’s yard. She ran to him, gathered him up and held him so tight as she ran right back home. She ran into the house to show her mommy that she had found her puppy.
Later that evening, when her puppy was asleep on her bed, M.K. went back outside in the back yard. She looked up to heaven, drew a picture of her puppy and for the first time in her whole life, she spoke her very first words. In a whisper M.K. said, “thank you”.
One day, while playing in the backyard after school, M.K. decided she wanted a puppy. She went into the house to ask her mommy and daddy if she could have one. She stepped into the middle of the den where her mommy and daddy were, put her finger in the air and began drawing a puppy dog. Her parents smiled and when she was done her father said, “Oh M.K., a dog is a very big responsibility for a little girl. A dog needs to be fed and walked and dogs need baths just like you do.” M.K.s mother added, “and M.K., honey, most of all, a puppy needs to be loved.” M.K. smiled as she listened to her parents and when they were done, she put her finger in the air. She drew a picture of a dog bowl full of food and nodded her head. She drew a picture of a leash and again nodded her head. She finished by drawing a huge heart in the air and she nodded and grinned. Well, M.K.’s parents couldn’t resist her charm and the next day M.K.’s daddy brought her home the cutest, warmest, cuddliest puppy that ever was.
M.K. loved her new puppy very much. She took care of it just like she promised. She played with her puppy every day when she got home from school. One day when she came home, she changed into her play clothes and went out to the back yard to play with her puppy. But her puppy was not there. There was a hole dug under the fence where her puppy had gotten out of the yard. M.K. ran into the house, grabbed her mother, and quickly drew a picture of her puppy in the air and then drew a question mark. Her mother gasped and said, “OH NO, your puppy is gone????” M.K. nodded her head rapidly. Her mother told her to go out in the back yard and look everywhere and that maybe he was still there. M.K. ran back into the yard and looked everywhere, but couldn’t find her puppy. She knew he had run away. M.K. stopped and looked up toward heaven. She drew a picture of her puppy and then drew a question mark. But when she put the dot at the bottom of the question mark, a most amazing thing happened; a beautiful bright sparkling light appeared right where her finger made the dot. It was like a hidden shimmering light in the air that had been turned on by the touch of her finger. M.K knew right then and there, that where her finger was pointed was where she would find her puppy. She ran out the gate in that direction and a few houses away she found her puppy in the neighbor’s yard. She ran to him, gathered him up and held him so tight as she ran right back home. She ran into the house to show her mommy that she had found her puppy.
Later that evening, when her puppy was asleep on her bed, M.K. went back outside in the back yard. She looked up to heaven, drew a picture of her puppy and for the first time in her whole life, she spoke her very first words. In a whisper M.K. said, “thank you”.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)