At The Luncheon

Soon after being sworn in as the 44^th President, Obama will have his first lunch hosted by the Joint Congressional Committee on Inaugural Ceremonies at the historic Statuary Hall at the US Capitol. The following is a conversation between two women on the wait staff as they set up the room for lunch.

            “I’ve heard it said he’s going to help the poor.” Sally stood facing the head table.

            “Good, maybe I’ll finally get that pony I’ve always wanted. Hand me that vase and smooth out that corner, there can’t be any wrinkles.” Martha replied as she darted between tables.

            “Have you heard him speak? His voice is so soothing, like being dipped in warm honey.” Sally whispered.

            “Give me a break. I guess he got your vote. If you can’t work and talk at the same time don’t talk. We have to get the room ready. The Inauguration starts soon and if we aren’t finished, heads will roll and I don’t want it to be mine.”

            “Will we be able to watch?” Sally carefully fluffed the linen.

            “If we get finished we can watch it in the kitchen. May as well, all the other staff will be in there. If they get their work done that is.” Martha gave Sally a stern look.

            “This is an historic day, the first President of color,” Sally said dreamily. 

            “Their all the same color once they get in office.”

             “I’m glad he has kids. It brings him closer to the concerns of the people.”

             “So you think the rich know how the poor feel? What their needs are? What it feels like to be hungry?”

            “I doubt you’ve ever gone hungry. He says he’s on the side of the people.”

            “That’s what they all say.” Martha replied sarcastically.

            “But he’s going to make health care available and create new jobs and help the economy.”

            “If you tell me you think he can walk on water, I’ll throw up. Bring those extra napkins and table cloths and let’s go to the kitchen.”

            “I want you to take a picture of me in the room where he will eat his first meal after being sworn in.” Sally removed a small camera from her uniform pocket.

            “Are you serious?”

            “Here.” Sally handed the camera to Martha then stood by the head table.

            “Okay, let’s hurry it’s about to start.”

            “So you are excited.”

            “I’ll give him a chance. Why not? I doubt he could be any worse than any of the others. We’ll know who he really is soon enough, for better or worse.”

            “Doesn’t Michelle look beautiful? Her skin looks golden. That dress is a perfect color for her.” 

            “Who wouldn’t look good in a Versace? There’s usually more to people than what they show you. It’s the unspoken agenda’s that worry me. We’ll see.”

            “It’s happening, he’s being sworn in. He sure is lean and tall. He has such a strong voice I could listen to him all day. Michelle sure is lucky and those girls. Can you imagine having him for a father?”

            “Good grief!”

            “He must be so happy right now. What book is he laying his hand on? It looks really old.”   

            “Oh, that’s a book written over 2,000 years ago about another man, only that man really can walk on water.”

Trapped

Marda secured the lock before pressing her back against the cold hard steel door. The gray bathroom stalls were scribbled with notes. Every available inch was covered; the only saying missing was “Eat at Joe’s.” The dingy ceiling had paper wads, gum and she didn’t want to know what else, stuck to the peeling paint.

            “Come on out Marda. You really need to try this,” Marda’s sister Rosetta whispered through the crack in the door. “Don’t make me crawl on this dirty floor.”

            She was right about that, the floor was disgusting. “Leave me alone then,” Marda hissed.

            “You’ll be really glad you did this. It’s difficult the first time, but it gets easier the more you do it. It doesn’t hurt.”

            Marda didn’t believe it for a minute. She knew once she started she would have to use it every day. “I don’t want to start. I’m too young.” Marda was infuriated she let herself get trapped.

            “Fourteen is not too young. Everyone is using it; you’ll be the only one.”

            “Yeah, the only smart one. I need to get to class the bell is going to ring in five minutes.”

            “That’s plenty of time. Come on, I’ll help you.”

            “I’m not like you. I don’t want to be like you. Why did you wait until we got to school?”

            “I can’t corner you at home. And besides, mom’s there.”

            “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

            “Don’t be a baby. Come on out. We need to get this done before the bell.”

            Marda looked down at her feet. She was glad she wore tennis shoes; she thought if she opened the door really fast she could shove her sister out of the way and make it to the door before she got up off the floor. “I know I’m stronger,” Marda thought as she visualized the escape in her head.

            “Shirley is with me.”

            “Oh, great,” Marda mumbled to herself. Shirley weighed about 150lbs. and was six feet tall. “I’ll never get passed her.”

            “Why is she here?” Marda asked.                                

            “To help.”

            “Help ruin my first day of high school?”

            “It’s not like that, really. It won’t hurt you to try it. If you decide it’s not right for you I won’t pressure you, I promise, but it will give you a lot of confidence. I know its hard being a freshman.”

            “You really promise? If I don’t like it, I don’t have to use it ever again?”
            “I promise.”

            Marda could hear Rosetta’s giggle. She opened the door slowly. Rosetta and Shirley were standing side by side. There was no escape.

            “Let’s get this over with. I hate you, you know.” Marda hissed.

            Rosetta put her arm across Marda’s shoulder as she handed her a new tube of black mascara. “This will make your big brown eyes really stand out.”

           

           

And Still They Danced (A poem)

Music floated on evening’s breeze

Their love still young, their hearts still free

Each turn on the floor a memory.

Violins filled the room with stringed bliss

He held her hand and kissed her wrist

She smiled and blushed as though it was rare

As she ran fingers through silvered hair.

Their faces aglow in candle light

They danced and twirled into the night

He pulled her close and whispered, “My Dear,

Think not of tomorrow when today is here.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek

He brushed it off and whispered, “My Sweet…

Skies that cloud will soon be clear

And we will see the sun draw near.”

Gazing into his eyes so blue   

she whispered… “My love…” He whispered… “Me too.”

And on they danced and on they whirled…

Just one boy and just one girl.

The Good Ship Confidence 1638

Augustine Bearce, my relative on Mother’s side, was born in a Gypsy camp just outside London. He sailed to Massachusetts on the Good Ship Confidence in 1638. He was twenty years old. He went to Barnstable, MA in 1639 with the first company of settlers. His settlement placed him in the midst of the Wampanoag villages on the Cape. He married Mary Hyanno at the Mattaches village of Cummaquid (Barnstable). Mary was the daughter of Iyannough and granddaughter of Highyannough. With this relationship Augustine gained large amounts of land in the area. His home still stands and is believed to be the oldest in what is now Centerville, MA. Augustine and Mary had eleven children. Their son James, married Experience Howland, whose family came to the New World on the Mayflower. Those are the facts. The voyage maybe went something like this:

          Augustine didn’t know on which day they lost sight of land. He spent most of his time trying not to fall down as he made his way to the side of the ship to throw up. He wasn’t alone at the railing; most of the other passengers joined him. His nausea lessened about the same time he got his sea legs. Augustine had made an agreement with the Captain to work his way across the ocean to the new world. The Captain was kind enough to wait until the sea sickness past before assigning him his duties. Gypsies weren’t well received, even on a ship, and he was always trying to avoid a beating. One day he decided to carry a club under his shirt and when a crew member swung at him, Augustine hit him over the head. Twice. He didn’t have much trouble after that. He wished he had thought of it sooner.

          He was busy from sunup to sun down. There were decks to swab, chamber pots to empty, food to prepare and dishes to wash. The only domestic animals on board were cats, which helped keep the rat situation somewhat under control. There were cows, chickens and goats. The cows dried up within the first week, but the chickens were laying and nothing bothered the goats.

          The only free time Augustine had was last light and break of day. On calm mornings, the water looked like sheets of blue shimmering glass. He stood at the bow scanning the water.

          “Let me see you one more time,” he whispered. As though they heard, the whales rose like giant mountains, their wet skin shining with streaks of blues and yellows; they looked like floating rainbows. Each slap of their enormous tails sent water across the deck before they plunged again into the deep. Augustine could have moved away from the railing, but enjoyed the whale’s waltz more than wanting to stay dry; he hadn’t been dry since he boarded ship.

           Augustine was used to the fog of London, but the fog at sea cloaked the ship with misty vapors so dense it was suffocating.  The whale’s mournful call floated over the still water like a whispered echo. The muted sails embraced the trembling resonance within its limp damp folds as though trying to catch a breath.

          With the seas dreaded calm, the ship sat helplessly on the still water. Sometimes days would pass in quiet desperation. Serenity became the enemy. Eventually, prayers were answered and the passengers would cheer as the wind caressed the sails. The first day land was sighted Augustine was standing at the bow. His heart fluttered at the first sight on his new home.

          “I hope the Indians are friendly,” he thought.

       

1639 One Year Later   

John Lothrop was ordained in the Church of England, but renounced his orders in 1623 to join the Independents. Disagreements over Baptism were the main issues. Complete immersion or sprinkling? Baptize when babies or adults? He spent time in jail, but was granted a pardon if he left England. He arrived in New England in 1634. In 1639 he moved his church to Barnstable. Augustine went with him. Those are the facts. Maybe it went something like this:

          The long beach grass quivered in the light wind as Augustine walked along the shore admiring the wild flowers last burst of color before the embrace of winter’s white cape. He sat on a sand dune running his hands through the soft grains watching them fall slowly through his fingers, each grain of sand a story, each small pebble an event. He was thinking about all that had occurred since he arrived in New England. Before the first year ended he had changed his name to Austin, discovered he was good at farming and was shunned by all the young girls because he was a gypsy. Austin wanted to marry, but now that it was out of the question he had determined to accept his fate… that is, until he saw a certain Indian girl. Her name was Mary Hyanno, she was fifteen and an Indian Princess. Austin had noticed her the first day they arrived in Barnstable. He saw her now walking toward him.

          Her delicate nose had a splash of small freckles across her white skin. Her long red hair cascaded down a slender back. Austin had never seen anyone so beautiful.  He stood as she approached. Unsure she would understand, he spoke, “I would not have known you are Indian but for your clothes.”

          “My father calls me Little Dove,” She replied in near perfect English.

          “Rightly so. You are fair and speak well.”

          “Your people wanted to teach me their religious customs and I wanted to learn English. It was a just arrangement.”

          She sat on the sand, Austin joined her. “May I ask why you are not married? It is common for the young men who come from the other side to marry quickly.” 

          Austin didn’t answer.

          She continued, “I know I speak boldly. The women in my tribe are plainspoken. Some of the English find it offensive. Do you feel the same? Is that why you do not answer?”

          Any hope of gaining her approval fled as he replied, “The English girls know I have Gypsy blood and will have nothing to do with me.”

           “I have heard Gypsies are good with horses,” Mary replied.

           “The English think Gypsies have less value even than a horse.”

          Austin saw Mary’s father walking up the beach. “Will your father be angry with you for talking to me?”

          “English girls are foolish. Do not worry about my father. He has been watching you. He thinks you are very brave.”

          Austin gazed into Mary’s blues eyes. She was the future he hoped for, yet he had nothing to offer. “How am I brave?”

          “You left your family, and all that was familiar, to sail across the ocean in search of a new home.” She smiled and added, “You came to a hostile land with Indians. You were brave enough to face the unknown.”

          “Many have done so,” he replied.

          Mary lowered her eyes and answered, “My father is not concerned with the many.”

           

         

And Then There Were None

Martha stood at the brick pathway leading to the back of her property; she was looking for her husband. He wasn’t lost she just couldn’t find him. “How far could he get in five minutes,” she mused. “He never stays put.” She yelled across the yard, “Bill, where are you?”

          “By the grapes,” Bill answered. Martha walked slowly down the path tossing bread crumbs along the way.

           “I’m not happy about this,” he growled.

          “Hmm, I wonder what’s eating our grapes,” she whispered.

          “You know perfectly well what’s eating our grapes. Your squirrels, and if we don’t do something soon they’ll get every single one. Again.” Martha knew what was coming, but played dumb.

           “Well, what can we do?”

          “We haven’t had a grape in three years.” Bill answered.

          “We’ll pick them earlier this time.”

          “We’ve tried that, they’re sour.”

          “So, what you’re saying is we’re full of sour grapes?” Martha joked.

          “Very funny. What I’m saying is, I would like to have some of the fruits of all our labors.”

          “I don’t want to kill them,” she moaned.

           “So, all our efforts, the watering, the pruning, the digging, are all so the squirrels can eat the grapes?”

          “We can buy grapes from the store.”

          “I want our grapes, fresh from the vine.”

          “I guess we’ll have to kill the opossum, too.”

          “I guess we will.”

          “And what about the birds? They like grapes too.”

          “We can net the grapes to keep the birds away, just like we did with the peach trees.” Bill was starting to get hopeful for the first time.

          “And the bunnies? What about the bunnies?”

          “Bunnies don’t climb.”

          “Good. I’d hate to kill the bunnies, I like watching their little white polka dot tails hop across the lawn.”

          “So, we’ll keep the bunnies and the birds, but the squirrels and opossum have to go,” Bill confirmed.

          “I don’t want to kill the squirrels. I love listening to their chatter.”

          “They’re calling all the other squirrels to dinner! In our vines!”

          “I wonder… if we feed them other food---”

          “That’s what got us into this mess in the first place! You feeding the squirrels!”

          “But the fires. I had to. What were they going to eat?”

          “Each other for all I care.”

          “That’s disgusting.”

          “Not as disgusting as losing all our grapes.”

          “Don’t be such a meany.” Martha took a another handful of bread crumbs from her apron pocket tossing them on the lawn as she made her way back to the house.   

          “Where are you going?” Bill called out.

          “To the store,” Martha replied.

          “What for?”

          “We need grapes.”

          “I give up.”  

         

Going Home

                                                                                         

                                                                                                                          

           

            The house looked the same; the yard hadn’t changed it was barren and dry. Cracks formed jagged lines through the top crust of dirt creating maps of different sizes and shapes throughout the yard. It looked as though it hadn’t rained for the ten years Carrie had been away.  The Eucalyptus and Chinese Elm trees provided the only beauty giving the house a touch of grace. Small patches of grass poked through the dry earth under each tree. Branches draped over the old tin roof sweeping gently down the sides. Carrie could see lights flickering through the screen covered windows.

            She walked up the stairs to knock on the door, but hesitated once she reached the last step. At one time there was a porch, not just five steps leading to a door, but her father had sold the porch making the house look even shabbier.  She headed back out the chain link fence careful that the gate latch didn’t clang. She remembered as a child waiting to hear the familiar sound of the gate closing waiting for her father to come home. Her parents quarreled, but at least he was home… safe.                                                                            

 She stood outside the fence looking in for a long time and had decided to leave when she saw the front door open. She waited for someone to walk out. No one did, but the door remained slightly open.                                                                                                            

  “I hope my brother is here,” Carrie thought. “And a tree, I hope there’s a Christmas tree. I hope when I walk in, the house is filled with the scent of pine.”                                                                          

 She knew her mom was waiting for her to make the first move. It was up to Carrie since she was the one who left in a huff ten years ago. The scene played again in her head.

            “You can’t tell me what to do I’m 18!”

            “Then you should act your age Carrie. Please listen to me, I know what’s best. He’s too old for you.” Her mother never raised her voice, but Carrie knew she meant every word she spoke. She always had, and there was no turning back. If Carrie made a stand, it would be the last one she made… in this house anyway.

            “Is that why you sent our father away? Because he wasn’t acting the way you thought he should?”

            “You know why he had to leave.”

            “I don’t, really. He didn’t drink that much. It was never a problem.”

            “It was a problem; I couldn’t allow him around you while he was drinking.”

            “And because of that we had to grow up living in a rat hole. I’ve been embarrassed my whole life living here!”

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” her mother replied. “It was the best I could do. You sound like an ungrateful brat.”

            “That’s it, I don’t need this,” Carrie stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Now here she was in front of the house she had called a rat hole, hoping her mother would welcome her in.

            Carrie knew her mother was right. She knew it then and she knew it now. Her father was a drunk and she was a brat, but for some reason she couldn’t admit the truth…so she left.

            Carrie walked over to the Chinese Elm to see if there was anything left of her tree house.  A few rotted planks were all that remained, but there was a piece of wood nailed to the trunk, ‘Tree house built with love in 1956, by Carrie and Lynn.’ The tears wouldn’t stay in their place any longer. Carrie wiped them away, but they streamed on. Memories flooded her thoughts as the tears flowed.  She remembered the songs they sang while she and her mom baked cookies. She remembered the aroma of fresh baked bread filling the kitchen when she got home from school. A bowl of soup and buttered bread, lovingly arranged on a flowered placemat, nourished her body and fed her soul. She remembered the long walks to the lake to catch pollywogs, her brother with a stick for a fishing pole slung over his shoulder. She remembered the time she had lost her only pair of good shoes at the lake and how her mother cried because there was no money to buy another pair.  

            Carrie realized how much she missed her mom and brother. With trembling legs she walked up the rickety steps wrapping her hand around the cold doorknob. She closed her eyes and pushed the door open. A scent of pine greeted her, but she kept her eyes closed. She heard movement inside, but still she refused to look. A furry nose nuzzled her hand as she waited and she knew it was Buddy the German Sheppard, she was happy he remembered her. Would she be as welcomed by her mother?  Carrie took a deep breath and opened her eyes.

A Love Story

                                                                                         

            “I’m not sorry that I loved you and I wept the day I left,” Beth whispered.

             She watched as the rain disappeared allowing the sun to peak through gray clouds. Brilliant radiant beams of light filtered onto the deserted street. Clouds parted for the rainbow that arched across the rain washed sky. Turning on the open sign she watched her husband walk slowly toward her passing through the sun streaked morning.  Six months ago she had left him and she wasn’t sorry. He was here now and her heart leapt.  Beth knew he was here with hat in hand, asking her to give him one more chance. She turned from the window. Her old boyfriend sat at a nearby table.        

            “What are the chances both of them would show up on the same morning?” She thought.

            Beth’s husband entered the diner. Walking to Beth he took her hands in his and spoke softly.   

            “I haven’t had a drink since you left. I’ll never take another drink as long as I live. I want you to come home. I’ll work it out. I promise.”

            She had missed the melody of his voice; the timbre touched her, her heart mourned.  He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His wrinkled clothes hung loose on his 6’3” frame. She remembered the first time she saw him. A tingle went up her spine and she actually trembled when they shook hands. He was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

             “I’m in trouble with this one,” She remembered thinking. When they touched a part of her soul felt as though they were two magnets being drawn together. Another part felt the magnets turn, with the force going in opposite directions, trying to separate them. Beth deliberately turned her magnet to accept his. She wanted him.  He was vibrant and Beth adored him immediately. She fit perfectly under his left arm.

             In the beginning she didn’t notice he drank to excess, but as time passed she realized he had a problem. She made it hers and tried to keep him busy and happy so he wouldn’t drink, but that soon failed, as all other efforts did and when she was two months pregnant she left him. She had managed somehow these past six months. Working in the local diner kept her close to her small apartment and they didn’t care she was pregnant. The odds that her husband stayed sober weren’t good, but she missed him with every breath. She was going to need help soon so she had to make a decision where that help was going to come from. She didn’t want to saddle her old flame with a baby and a drunken ex-husband, even though he said he loved her enough to accept the child and whatever trouble followed.

             She knew she wasn’t going to allow him to fix her life. She made the mess and she would clean it up herself. Hadn’t her grandfather taught her well enough? She would hear a rumble from his grave if she put her problems onto someone else before trying every option she could think of. She wished she was 12 again back on the farm. She longed for the days she sat at the piano playing as her grandfather sat on the porch on a Maine summer’s eve, the aroma from his pipe tobacco drifting through the open windows.

             “You go home now,” Beth replied softly.  “I’ll come over after work and we can talk.”

             Lee had no choice but to leave. Leave knowing the old boyfriend had a good chance of getting his wife. He had more money, a house, and a better track record. Lee had spent most of his adult life drunk; the old boyfriend had spent his life earning money and an education. Lee thought himself a fool for even trying to compete. He was a loser, had always been one and saw no reason to think he could make a change now. But, he had to change; he had to have her back with him. Back in his arms, back in his life, back in his bed. He needed to able to reach for her in the night and have her lying next to him, her body close to his, her warmth surrounding him, caring for him, loving him.        

            “Leave and wait. You want me to leave and wait?”

            Beth gently touched his arm. “Yes, I’ll see you soon.”

            Lee didn’t think she would come home, he didn’t think she believed him. He had imagined his life a whole lot differently when he ran away from home at 14. He never wanted to be like his dad, but here he was finishing out a life his dad died too young to complete. Lee watched Beth from outside the diner a few minutes before walking down the middle of the empty street. He carried his burden with heavy steps, his head down, his heart sick and his destiny in her hands. 

            Lee knew he had no control over her decision, but he had control over his… He lifted his head, straightened his shoulders and picked up his step. The clouds parted bathing him in the warmth of the sun as he made his way home.

            Beth sat next to Mark, the man she didn’t choose. The man she realized would have made her life easier, better, more stable. But, she didn’t feel drawn to Mark the way she was drawn to Lee. Her soul didn’t yearn to be a part of him the way her soul yearned to be with Lee. Mark loved her, Lee loved and needed her. Mark would take care of her; she would take care of Lee. She would be safe with Mark. Her heart would soar with Lee. Beth took Marks face in her hands, kissed his cheek and whispered,  “Thank you for helping me, for being here beside me, for loving me.”