The birth of Ben

 Why was this guy in the store smiling at me while I proudly held my new baby boy?  I could only guess he thought as I did that Ben was the cutest thing that ever lived and wished he had one just like him.  I later found out that he probably was smiling because Ben had urrped up a batch of cottage cheese down the backside of my brown winter coat.  Shopping at JC Penny's was serious business and Ben had been handed off to me so Sandy could better concentrate on the shopping mission before her.  Which meant I wandered around the store aimlessly with the little squirt perched up on my shoulder.  Apparently this was before I learned the necessity of a burping cloth under his chin at all times.  Ben came out of the womb with a real talent for urpping milk, he did it in two variations, one was right after eating and that came out in the same consistency it went in but with a lot more force, think projectile vomiting.  Just don't get anywhere in front of him if you like the clothes you are wearing.  The other way was the slow cooker method, he would ingest large quantities of milk and then later deliver little white curds of cottage cheese.  This came out much more daintily and you wouldn't even know it was there until you noticed a curd or two lingering on his lower lip then find a fresh batch on whatever clean clothes he or you were wearing.  

How did two unknowing people find themselves caring for a little baby of which they knew almost nothing?  Well as the childhood rhyme says "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes (insert name here) with a baby carriage!"  But before the baby carriage came Lamaze classes and lots of breathing lessons.  I can't even remember all the different types of breathing that was required for all the different stages of childbirth which was going to make having a baby a pretty smooth process.  It was good to be living in the new enlightened age when just breathing correctly was going to be the difference between having a life and death struggle to bear a child and the joyful experience of birthing your child together.  In fact the husband was no longer banished to the waiting room as in the old days but he was now the coach and equal partner in the process, helping his dear wife concentrate on her breathing so as to move the process along smoothly.  Lamaze even said some mothers chose to have their babies in a bathtub full of water, what a calm and delightful birth that must have been..  I took my lessons seriously and looked forward to the happy birth of our first child.

Contractions started getting stronger and closer together, when they came about 5 minutes apart we headed to the hospital excited to get this done, the new baby was about to arrive!  But the rather naive nurse examined Sandy and said she was not dilated enough to be admitted and sent us home.  Did this nurse really know what she was doing?  We were having contractions 5 minutes apart, the baby must be imminent!  We went home against my better judgement and the contractions did slow down so maybe the nurse was right about this one.  Maybe a lucky guess on her part, who knows?  Later the contractions started up again and we headed back to the hospital, a little less confident this time, I wondered would  the mean nurse let us stay and get this delivery going this time or not?  Happily she let us stay this time, surely the baby will be out soon!  I started coaching, Sandy started breathing, we are doing great, in fact maybe too great.  The Lamaze coach did say it would become rather intense and there might even be a time when Sandy (I could hardly believe this) would have flashes of anger toward me for getting her pregnant but not to worry that would all go away after the baby was born.  There was no sign of any anger coming from Sandy, just diligent breathing and waiting for the big event to happen.  However as the minutes turned to hours and the breathing didn't seem to be moving along the birth in any way, it became difficult to keep up the rah, rah spirit a good coach should have.  After MANY hours of waiting, and contractions, and Lamaze breathing, things finally began to get more intense.  But when we would summon the nurses to check to see if Sandy was fully dilated they would just say "not yet, give it more time".  Somewhere along the way the breathing routine started to get old and when I tried to encourage Sandy to do the "candle blowing" she flashed a look at me that suggested the only blowing she wanted to do was blowing my head off with a gun if one were only available, so I decided to back off on the coaching for now.  Finally the time came, they called the Dr. to come to the hospital, by then it was late at night and I thought the nurses said they had to get him from a party.  In a while a short man with a cocky attitude arrived and started giving orders to nurses who seemed to be very capable of running the delivery room without him.  The time to push came and I saw  a struggle to push and veins popping out that I never even knew existed on Sandy's forehead..  The Dr. did a little checking here and there and then decided he needed forceps.  I don't think the Lamaze class said much about forceps so I watched with great interest as the Dr. inserted these rather large spoon like devices into the birth canal and then clicked them together to form a metal cup around Ben's head.  The Dr. said he had to wait for a contraction and would then deliver the baby with the aid of the forceps.  I anticipated a gentle tug from the Dr. would be just the thing to get that stubborn baby to slip out.  To my surprise the little man crouched down at the end of the birthing table and placed one foot on the end of the table and prepared to pull with all his might when the contraction started.  The contraction started and the Dr. pulled with all his might and I immediately lost all hope of having a live baby come out.  I was confused- why would this cruel Dr. leave me in the delivery room while he pulled our baby out one piece at a time?  Why would he not send me out if this is what the plan was?  To my surprise out came Ben's head and then amazingly, the rest of his body was still attached to his head!  We had our baby at last and he was alive- a little dented up, but alive.  The forceps put dents in his skull but the nurses  said that was normal and other than a cone shaped head, he looked pretty good.  So my moment of despair quickly turned to joy and all was right with the world and our little family.  Sandy didn't look like she hated me anymore and I began to realize the nurses were our best friends in the birthing room, the Dr. was a necessary intruder, and Lamaze?  Well, wasn't Lamaze French and isn't it said that very little in the French culture actually works?  I think now if it had been a German or a Dutch birthing program it would probably have worked, instead of being called something smooth and easy like "Lamaze" it would have been called "Der Gettenouttababe" and a lot of marching around and loud yelling would have proceeded a quick delivery.  Welcome to the world Benjamin James, nothing has been the same since you arrived.

Get out before she blows!

I'm going to take a winding trail to get to the heart of this story.  It starts for me with the fact that my Dad often had an old car sitting around that was there as far as us kids were concerned to drive through the two track in the woods behind the house.  Usually the trick was getting it started.  My first rememberence was my great aunt Nell's early sixties Renault Dolphine- it was a little bug of a car with a rear engine that was supposed to be Renualt's answer to the Volkswagon Beetle.  The brakes had gone out on it and so Dad had it at the house to fix them, but I remember hearing him tell people that the car had a full splash pan under it and all the bolts were metric and he wasn't about to tackle that project.  So us kids started driving it though the woods, driving a car without brakes thought the woods- what could possibly go wrong?  Actually nothing ever went wrong, we knew it didn't have brakes and drove accordingly.  My older sisters taught me how to drive it since it was the first stick shift car I ever drove.  It stayed around for a year or so as I remember, then it must have moved over to the junkyard next door.  The next car I remember was  a year or so before I got my drivers license, someone gave my dad an old rusted out mid 50's Ponitac which was an old clunker that was too far gone to fix.  But it ran- if you jump started the battery and poured a little gas into the carburetor before you started it.  That car would roar to life once started and it was a very satisfying sound to a young man's ears.  The exhaust had almost completely rusted away and a V-8 engine with no exhaust is a deafening sound.  I loved the car, but it did have it faults, first of all if you were careless with giving it a shot of gas in the carb it would sometimes shot a flame out of the carburetor like a flamethrower so you never knew if you might catch the car on fire or get a fun ride.  The second problem was the floor boards were totally rusted out and the front bench seat would flip over backwards when you stepped on the gas so you had to hold onto the steering wheel to keep you upright while you drove.  A minor inconvenience for a teenage thrill seeker.  It was pretty fun to drive and I figured out how to make donuts at the turnaround at the end of the two track, the roar of the engine and throwing dirt from the tires while turning around made the trouble of getting it started worthwhile.  Around that time my best friend Tim decided to rebuild the engine in the old Nash station wagon his dad gave him.  Tim espoused to be a seasoned mechanic at the ripe old age of 14 and proceeded to pull the engine out of the car and install new rings and bearings with my dads help.  Somewhere along the way a bolt must not have been tightened properly and when the rebuilt engine was started it had an ominous knocking noise that clearly said something was wrong.  Well my dad laughed and blamed it on Tim (which was probably true) and the car joined my Ponitiac on the trail.  This was all for the good since now Tim and I could race each other through the woods.  It was great fun until one day when Tim slid into a tree and smashed up the front headlight and grille,  After that Tim's claim that he was going to go back into the engine and fix the knocking sound and have the car road ready by the time he got his license quietly went away and the car ended up next door at the junkyard with the rest of the junkers.

Fast forward to around 1989 when we had recently moved to Muskegon from Terre Haute.  Your mom decided Ben needed his best friends Jason and Shawn to visit for a week the summer after we had moved here.  Of course Steve joined in also for a week of camping, hiking, biking, and Michigan's Adventure type activities.  And of course somehow I was volunteered to take the week off work to make this all happen.  It was actually a lot of fun but also the hardest working vacation I probably ever went on.  Feeding and supervising 4 busy boys was a full time job.  I think most of the meals were cooked over an open fire at the campsite at Pioneer park and clean up lasted almost until the next meal.  At that time my dad had an old 70's Buick that he let Ben and Steve drive though the woods,  It was a huge four door land yacht and not in too bad of shape.   So of course all the boys had to take the car for a spin through the woods.  We warned Ben to drive slowly and carefully which was probably just a waste of breath at that point.  We were standing in the yard at Grandpa and Grandma Barnharts waiting for the car to come back from their ride when all of a sudden we heard a tremendous crash sound from the woods.  Sandy and I both raced out to see all of them out of the car which had plowed into a tree and the front fender was crushed into the wheel so the car couldn't move.  Ben's story was he was driving carefully and somehow got distracted or something and hit the tree.  When it happened Jason shouted "get out before she blows!" and I think they all jumped out the windows at that point.  I was really disgusted and took an axe to the fender and chopped it away from the tire so it could at least be driven again.  "Get out before she blows" became a favorite saying in the Barnhart clan after that whenever something crashed or when wrong.  Which was fairly often.

Greg reaches out

Greg crouched low by the chain link fence.  The morning light brought a red glow to the sky in the distance, lately the sky was reddish almost anytime of the day.  Greg looked at it and felt the hate swell up in him like it does often now.  "Why does it have to be this way?"  He remembered when things were different, when mornings ushered in blue skies and singing birds, when it wasn't blazing hot all the time even at night like it is now.  He knew who to blame, "it's the greedy capitalists" he thought for the hundredth time, if they hadn't just keep on burning fuel and causing the earth to heat up things could have stayed like they were before.  There were plenty of warnings- private, government, local, and global experts had been warning for years it was coming but the business owners didn't listen, they had products to sell, deadlines to meet, profit margins to reach.  And then toward the end once it reached a point when no one could deny what was going on they finally got scared enough to stop production of the factories, but by then it was too late.  It was like a heavy flywheel spinning out of control and nothing could slow it down or stop it.  The earth just kept getting hotter and hotter, people moved in droves further and further away from the hottest areas at the equator toward the north and south poles, and pandemonium became the norm.  Laws and borders, fences and walls, border guards and vigilantes could not stop the flood of immigrants.  Survival overtook civility and mob rule became the way of the world in this new era of take what you need to survive and don't worry about anyone else.  The toll was staggering in human life, those in the hottest zones would die if they stayed there, many who left in roaming gangs looking for food and relief from the heat died along the way and more died trying to cross the obstacles placed in front of them by the people who had gotten to the livable areas first.  But still they kept coming, in waves of fifties, hundreds, and more, relentlessly pressing, pressing, pressing, against the barriers set up to stop them.  Eventually nothing could stop them and once they overran the blockades and had ravaged the land of food and water and resources in that one area they would be on the move again and push into the next area and the cycle would repeat itself over and over again.
Greg hated the immigrants, hated the way they looked, the way they talked, the way they smelled, and mostly the way they just took whatever they wanted in order to survive.  

He didn't like to think about it, but most would say Greg grew up privileged.  Sure his family had a business making tires for automobiles, but it had been in the family for generations, and Greg didn't feel guilty about what part it had in the destruction of the planet.  He didn't ask to be born into his family, he never ran the business, in fact he just jetted around from one vacation spot to another until lately when he traveled from one place to another just trying to avoid the heat, find sustenance, and avoid the roaming mobs. There was no such thing as a vacation get away anymore and Greg resented it.  It was getting harder and harder to travel, grounded jets were now being taken over by the homeless, and for the last month, Greg had been on foot to reach this destination at the chain link fence.  He was in full desperation mode now, he really wasn't much different from the homeless people he loathed and avoided at all costs.  Gone was his prestige and his money, his ability to pay his way out of any situation he found himself in.  He was dirty, hungry, and desperate to get away from everything that had now become life on earth.
On the other side of the chain link fence was Greg's last hope for survival.  Standing against the orange morning sky was a sleek rocket with the name Spirit emblazoned on the side. Greg had heard enough about this rocket to know that this was his ticket to escape planet earth.  Greg had heard that the rocket was owned by the Theos Corp and had even seen short video's of the son of the owner of Theos urging people to sign up to leave the earth for a new habitation, one that promised everything that earth had the potential to be at one time but unlike earth, this new planet would be controlled by Theos Corp and would not allow anything to destroy the perfect way of life found there.  But Greg had a problem with all this, it was said to join the people in the rocket he would have to submit to the Theos Corp rules and even give up his rights as a person to do whatever he wanted.  Greg was too independent for that, he had been his own man all his life, in fact he had lived a pretty good life.  Sure he had stepped on a few people along the way to get what he wanted, but isn't life the survival of the fittest as they always say?  Besides the Theos Corp, Greg had another problem, and it was the owner's son Chris. Chris was promoted in the video's as this loving, caring guy who just wants to save as many people from earth as possible and take them to the new location.  And then there was the talk about the supernatural surrounding Chris, how he did things that couldn't be explained with science- and that really bothered Greg.  He figured science was the highest pinnacle of man's wisdom and for some guy to allegedly go around science and make things happen like magic just didn't set well with Greg.  It was like who gave this dude the right to suspend the laws of nature?  It's not as if Chris set up the laws of nature himself and then could get around them as he pleased, right?  Greg was sure it was all just hype from the Theos Corp anyway and that made it even worse.
In spite of Greg's disregard for Chris, Greg knew that rocket roared off the launch pad every morning at 6 AM and if he wanted to live much longer he needed to be on it.  Instead of signing up through the Theos Corp Greg made his own plan.  He had been hiding by the fence watching the rocket make trips for about a week now and noticed there were hand rails on the sides all the way up to the cargo bay doors and he had seen workers on the lift off scaffold open and close those doors before every launch.  They weren't locked and he was sure he could get that door open on his own if only he could sneak up to the rocket just before liftoff and climb up those hand rails.  It was chancy Greg knew but he was not about to submit to Theos Corp and Chris for anything.  Greg had a stubborn streak that ran hot when it came to getting what he wanted and how he wanted to get it. 
Movement to Greg's side roused him from his thoughts and he instinctively sprang to his feet to escape what must be a security guard.  Greg had not seen a guard outside the fence the whole week he had been there and had gotten careless, Greg chastised himself as he started off running.  A strong hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and Greg stumbled down face first to the ground writhing and kicking at whoever was holding him back.  "Stop it! settle down!" Greg turned to see it was a guard and who was bigger and stronger than Greg so he had little choice but to lay there and hope the guard would let him up.  "What are you doing here?  You know this is a restricted area."  Breathing heavy, Greg decided to just tell the guard what he was doing there, Greg was too weary to make up a lie at this point.  The guard nodded as Greg talked, he had heard it many times before, and as Greg finished telling him the plan the guard just shock his head slowly and asked why on earth didn't he just sign up the right way and get on board like the other people did?  Greg got angry and cussed out Chris, the Theos Corp, and even cursed the rocket a few times.  He was just too proud to humble himself to that ordeal he said.  The guard looked at Greg for a moment, and he genuinely felt sorry for him.  The guard told Greg some amazing things about Chris and how that Chris had even been injured to the point of death trying to get people into the rocket and how that medically speaking he shouldn't even be alive, but in spite of this he keeps putting out the word relentlessly to warn people on earth to enter the rocket and leave this doomed planet.  Greg wasn't buying it, "another stupid zealot" he thought to himself "how much is Theos Corp paying this guy?".  "Just let me go and I won't bother anyone around here anymore" Greg told the guard.  To Greg's surprise the guard let him go with just a stern warning to stay away.
Greg went back to a hiding place he had set up when he first arrived at the launch site about a quarter mile away in some bushes and tried to sleep for a while.  It was too hot to sleep, Greg was hungry and thirsty.  He had eaten and drank the last of the provisions he had stolen the day before.  "Tomorrow's the day" he thought, "I can't hang on here any longer, I've got a plan I will just have to work the plan tomorrow morning.  It's my only hope."

Fitful sleep made for a long night, Greg got up and moved around some.  "I've got to get limbered up to be able to scale that fence then climb that rocket all in the short period of time the lift off crew leave the site and the rocket starts liftoff."  Greg knew the fiery liftoff would bake him to a crisp if he was still climbing up the side of the rocket when the burners started igniting.  He had only about 2 minutes he figured from the time the liftoff crew left the area for him to climb the fence, race to the rocket, climb up it and get in the cargo doors before the flames started rolling up the sides of the rocket.
Greg was tired and dirty, he smelled as bad as the immigrants he despised and now hunger and lack of sleep were dogging him but none of that mattered.  It was go with the plan or die, "the survival instinct is stronger than I thought" Greg realized.  Greg checked his time, it was time to move out.  "If only that guard doesn't show up I think I can make it" Greg thought as he crouched and moved toward the fence.  In his weakness Greg felt like he could see himself moving along as if he were watching from above his own progress, it was strange but Greg had little time to think about it.  Finally at the fence Greg thought he must be getting delirious because laying against the fence was a pair of wire cutters, Greg grabbed them and they were real, in no time he had the fence cut open, "no climbing for me" he thought.  He checked the time again and it was almost time for liftoff, the ground crew began moving out and Greg got ready to make his move.  It was crucial that he get from the fence to the rocket without detection but he had no plan for how to accomplish it.  This part of the plan was just left up to sheer luck and Greg hated that, he wanted to be in total control but as hard as he had planned he could not come up with any good way to get there undetected, he would just run as fast as he could and hope for the best.  The fence was cut, the ground crew was gone, now was the time to run for it.  Greg's legs felt heavy as he started out across the open area to the rocket, in fact he could see himself from above again and it looked like slow motion steps as he ran.  Everything in his brain screamed RUN! but fatigue in his body failed him.  Nevertheless, somehow he made it across the open area and when he came to the base of the rocket it looked bigger and harder to climb than he thought it would be.  Greg had no time to waste, soon the rocket boosters were going to ignite and he was standing right under them.  With waning strength Greg jumped up to grab the first hand rail and pulled himself slowly up to reach the next rail.  Once he got a foot hold on the lowest rail he began climbing hand and foot up the rails.  It was slower climbing up to the cargo doors than Greg had planned, but he keep climbing.  Up and up he climbed exhausted and breathing heavy, every reach up for the next rail and every step up with his feet was painful and he felt he was going to drop off the side of the rocket at any moment.  Strength was low and hope lower as he finally reached the cargo door.  Greg saw the cargo door handle just above him and paused to get one last breath before reaching for it, but the pause was interrupted by the thundering sound of ignition from the boosters below.   This was it, open the door and get inside or die Greg lunged for the door handle.  "LOCKED!" Greg cursed the door handle, he cursed the rocket, he cursed Chris, and the Theos Corp and he slumped back away from the door in defeat.  He may as well just let go and fall into the surging flames that were starting to roil under the rocket.  How could he have not known they would lock that door!  How could he have thought he would be able to pull this off by himself?  Greg was done with himself, it was over, he knew he was a thief trying to lie and cheat his way out of the earth that he had helped destroy.  He saw himself for the fraud he really was in that instant and it hurt more than anything else had ever hurt him in his whole life.  "How could dying in the flames be any worse?"  he thought. The flames were reaching out from under the rocket and the rumble and roar of them was getting louder by the second.  Heat was blasting up from below him like no heat he had felt on the scorched earth he had hoped to escape.  Greg knew the end had come and he felt his grip on the rails getting weaker.  The cargo door above him made a loud sound then with a louder bang it swung open,  Greg's grip locked onto the rails as he was startled back to the reality of the open door and at the same time the intensity of the flames grew hotter around him.  Standing in the door was of all people-Chris, and he reached his hand out to Greg to pull him in.  Chris shouted above the roar of the rocket engines, "Get in! you only have seconds!"  Greg pulled back, this wasn't his plan, he didn't want Chris to rescue him, it was all wrong.  Time seemed to stand still as Greg looked at Chris and saw two things instantly, the first was his hands, they were charred beyond belief, Greg didn't have time to think about it but what could be the reason for those hands?  Then he saw the eyes, they were unlike any eyes he had ever seen before, in just the short moment of time Greg looked at Chris's eyes he felt like Chis had looked all the way down into Greg's soul and knew everything about him- good and bad, but also the penetrating eyes emitted a sense of warmth, of comfort, of caring.  It was almost like love was flowing out of those eyes and Greg needed love now.  At this point Greg was engulfed in the flames and he could feel his hair and clothing bursting into flames, the heat was unbearable and Greg knew this was the end of him.  In that final moment of the end, Greg reached for Chris's hand and then everything went blank.
Greg opened his eyes and he had no idea how long they had been closed or where he was.  Was he just imagining he opened his eyes and was he really just laying on the launch pad cooked to a crisp?  "So you have revived?" Greg heard a voice, the same voice that called him into the rocket ship,  And of course there he was, it was Chris, with the same charred hands and the same eyes that Greg had seen standing in the cargo door.  "You mean I made it inside?" asked Greg,  "Yes you did, with very little help from you" Chris smiled.  Greg looked at Chris's hands, those charred hands, "You got those hands burned from pulling me in didn't you? " "Yes, you and many others" Chris said.  Greg looked around, "where are the others?" he asked.  "What others? you are the only one on this trip except the guard who left you the wire cutters."  The guard walked up to Greg smiling, "did you leave them where I can find them for the next guy?" ""What next guy?  What do you mean?  Where are all the people who sign up the right way?  Why am I the only one on board?"  Chris sighed, "You don't think anyone really just signs up and comes on board like that do you?  You are all the same" he said laughing, "you all think you are the only one who is going to sneak in by your own grit and bypass me.  You know, sin is more powerful than anyone can imagine.  No one leaves earth who hasn't been burned by it.  And look at my hands, every one I pull on board just like you gives me another layer of char.  But it's OK because we now have a great new start to life together, I love you because I made you originally, you wandered away, and now I have you back again, and you love me because I saved you."  We have a new place to go and figure this new life out together without any of the evil from earth following us there."  Greg looked at Chris "I am so sorry! what can I do to show you I am sorry?"  Chris shook his head "you can't do anything, everything has been taken care of by Theos Corp, I pull people on board, and the Spirit carries us to the new perfect planet." Greg smiled for the first time in he couldn't remember how long.  "I'm going home to a place where I have belonged and I never even knew it existed" thought Chris.  Greg looked out the window at the new planet they were headed to hanging like a jewel in space, first tears welled up in his eyes, and then he laughed the hardest he can ever remember laughing.

I shot the cat, went to work- Mike

I remember Mom was somewhat amused by the note I left on the kitchen table.  "I shot the cat, went to work- Mike"  We used to leave little short notes to each other on the kitchen table just to know where people were and what we were up to. I remember her commenting on it years later as a note she still thought was funny in an odd way.
It must have been the summer of  '73, I was taking classes at Muskegon Community College and working evenings at the phone company as a janitor.  I came home from school to find no one home, but Tom our roaming big orange and white cat was still laying on the porch with his rear end and legs mangled from what must have been a car-cat accident which he didn't win.  He was still alive and had managed to pull himself home with his front paws and had made it as far as the porch.  Of course we didn't take him to the vet, people barely were taken to the doctor back then let alone take a cat to the vet.  So someone put a little food and drink near his head and left him there to see if he lived,  and that was the trouble, he did live.  But in my opinion it was not a good life, he couldn't get up and walk and messy stuff was oozing out of his rear end onto the cement on the porch.  To make it worse, you had to step over him to get into the house. But it was the oozing that really bothered me.  He had been laying there a couple days or so and it just seemed to me that no one was taking this seriously and doing anything about it so I decided to be decisive and that I had to be the one to step up and do a mercy killing of the cat.  I decided the best place for this to happen was in the field between the garden and the pine trees behind the house,  Then I could bury him right where he died.  I also decided the cat should die happy so I got a big chunk of hamburg out of the refrigerator for him to eat as a combination last meal and to keep him occupied while I shot him.  The only gun I had available was my 12 gauge pump shotgun, the bad thing about that was it was a big gun for just a cat, but the good thing was if I missed the first shot I had five more shots before reloading.  So somehow I got the cat, the hamburger, the gun and the shells all out to the field behind the house to carry out what I thought was a rather noble mission.  Now in my mind I think I expected that when I shot the cat, he would take the bullet like a man, raise his head up and give me a look of thanks for putting him out of his misery then drift off calmly to sleep.  Sort of like those cowboys died on Gunsmoke or Bonanza every week when the sheriff or one of the Cartwrights would have to shot some bad guy who knew he had it coming.  I won't describe how it really went when I shot the cat because to this day it still disturbs me a little to remember  that sight so I will just say the cat had more life to him than it appeared and it wasn't a calm and thankful death on the cat's part, which did ruin my self image as a mercy killer.  So after the unpleasant task I buried the cat, left the note and went to work. No one complained about what I had done,  at least I didn't see any notes about it on the kitchen table the next morning.

The Christmas presents you kids never got

Many years ago when Daniel was a baby and I was washing dishes a nice looking Mercedes Benz pulled into our driveway and a lady came to our door to let us know she had Christmas presents for the kids.  I did not answer the door but I heard her say why she was here and without thinking about it I heard myself shout NO! WE DON'T WANT THEM! She left quickly and I and my anger were left to a house of disappointed children who probably were wondering what they just missed and a frustrated wife who wondered why I should care where the presents come from as long as the kids get some.  It had been a tough year financially.  The normally abundant overtime at work was unexpectedly shut off completely and the discount tuition at the Christian school was unexpectedly replaced with full cost tuition both just in time for Christmas.  As the payer of the bills, I found myself with enough money to pay the bills but not enough left to buy groceries and definitely not enough to buy Christmas presents.  This was hard to take, I had a good job and it paid well but we had stretched our budget to the max and when things got tight it just snapped.  I was already feeling bad about getting food from food pantries and had been arguing with Sandy about getting on the WIC program (Women with Infant Children) because to me it smacked of welfare and we were not that destitute.  I can be blamed for being too proud here and probably I deserve that criticism but I didn't care and still don't.   I think it is better to be too proud than not proud enough.  Anyway sorry about the lost Christmas presents, they were no doubt the dream presents you all always wanted and never got.  And to think they were just a few feet away in that shiny Mercedes Benz and mean old Dad had to chase them away.  I think that was the year you all got second hand presents, but if I remember correctly they were not bad presents at all.  Funny how a story I heard today triggered that memory and the emotion that went with it, enough to make me want to write about it.
PS in time I got a little second job and the school year ended and Christian school tuition went away never to return again.  Life went back to normal and now all that is left are the memories of being poor for a season.

Daniel and "The Punch"

Now that Noah is getting ready to start daycare, I have been thinking he needs to be prepared to protect himself against bullies or if there aren't any bullies there, he may want to take that role up himself.  Every daycare needs a bully you know.  There are some roles parents are great at teaching, but I have to say I don't think Lisa or Karl are good role models for bullying, they are just too nice.  So while thinking about this subject my mind went back to little Daniel and how he used to protect himself or avenge wrongs to himself such as us turning off the cartoons, taking away his Calvin and Hobbs book when he got too sassy, or denying him his third baloney sandwich. In these and other cases of extreme mistreatment Daniel developed what I would call "The Punch".  The first part of "The Punch" is the indignant rage, and little Daniel had this down pat.  Red face, angry arguing, unwilling to listen to reason- this would all precede "The Punch" so everyone in the room had fair warning before it would happen and could wisely give in to whatever little Daniel wanted to avoid being hit with "The Punch".  Before I describe "The Punch" I need to make a disclaimer- I did not teach it to him, in fact I don't think any of us did, I think Daniel developed this offensive weapon by watching cartoons, probably Popeye with his classic "Windup Punch" gave him great inspiration and I would not discount an angry, out of control Woody Woodpecker from influencing him either.  So "The Punch" for those of you fortunate enough to not have endured it or who did and have blocked the trauma from your mind to survive- I will now explain what it is.  As already stated, first the outrage would build up in little Daniel to something akin to a little human volcano, then because he was such a fair fellow he would warn us we were about the receive severe punishment, this was our last chance to give in to the little guy and save ourselves,  I don't think we ever gave in, but there was always that option.  Next came "The Punch" which was quite dramatic in appearance, Daniel  would start backing away while getting his fist outstretched and ready to do great damage.  He would continue to back up to the furthest corner of the house, so if you were sitting on the living room couch he would probably back all the way up to the far corner of the bathroom.  Once there he would take off in a tear with his fist protruding out like a sled hammer mounted on the front of a speeding freight train.  When this train started down the tracks there was nothing you could do but just sit there and await your punishment.  You could hear the rumble of his feet before you could see the enraged avenger charging at you with protruding fist, red faced, and ready to knock you into the next decade.  Now in actuality the impact was not as great as Daniel's toddler mind imagined, perhaps we would feign hurt in order to keep him from repeating the process while trying to subdue a laugh.  At any rate "The Punch" made a great visual impression and probably to a fellow toddler would have been pretty impactful.  So my suggestion to Daniel and Lisa is that this Christmas during the time to celebrate peace on earth and good tidings to all men Daniel take some one on one time to try to teach Noah "The Punch" just in time for the Holidays.  Noah can practice it on Lisa and Karl for lots of  reasons this season- unwanted naps, healthy foods at dinner time, or lame Christmas presents.  That way he will be in fine form when the new year starts and he heads to daycare.  To make sure "The Punch" has all the impact it can I think Daniel needs to do a little weight training with Noah too, Noah is not heavy enough to pack a big punch yet.  I think Daniel could teach Noah how to open the frig and make sure it is stocked with plenty of baloney for between meal snacks just like Daniel used to have.  It's a beautiful thing when families come together and we learn from each other.

Mom bought me a clock

Years ago I went to visit my Mom and she told me she had bought me a grandfather clock at a yard sale.  I was excited because at that time I was a fan of grandfather clocks and wanted one. Then she told me it only cost her 10 dollars and my excitement level went down a notch or two.  I thought that either she got the deal of a lifetime or there was something lacking in this grandfather clock she bought me.  She told me it was in her mini van and was too heavy and awkward for her to get out so I could go get it out for myself.  When I saw the grandfather clock she got me I was more than disappointed.  Instead of a real clock made from  real cherry or walnut wood with a mechanical mechanism I found a cheap particle board and plastic cased clock with a battery operated clock mechanism.  The sight of that clock triggered my disgust of all the times she bought cheap imitations of something good and thought it was good when it really wasn't.  It also triggered my annoyance with her habit of shopping for things just to boost her mood and then trying to cram everything she owned into her living space and then frequently telling me how unhappy she was with all the clutter around her and how much she would love to have a more open uncluttered home.  Not to mention the fact that getting her to part with anything- junk or otherwise was almost impossible.  Right then and there I decided it was lesson time for Mom,  I was not about to take that cheap grandfather clock out of her van, that clock represented everything I did not like about my Mother and it could sit in her van and rot as far as I was concerned.  So I went back in the house and basically told her the clock was no good, I didn't want it, and I wasn't taking it.  She asked what she should do with it then and I basically told her I didn't care, it was her problem.  I went home annoyed but satisfied that I had finally showed her the error of her way, maybe this would be the turning point when she would stop buying all this junk and start getting rid of it- I could only hope.  A few days later we talked on the phone and she told me the clock was still in her van and she didn't know what to do with it.  I started to feel a little sorry for her so I said I would take it and put it in my garage.  So there it has sat these past 5 or so years just collecting dust and not keeping time because it didn't work when she bought it- did I tell you that yet?  That the stupid thing didn't even work?  As time has gone by (not that the clock could tell you) and Mom has passed away I realized this was a clock with a story and since I hadn't the heart to throw it out yet, perhaps I should fix it and make it at least useful.  This past week I brought it in the house, dusted it off and installed a new battery operated mechanism in it and then put it back out in the garage.  At least now it works.  That is the least this clock can do for me, but it does more- it is a reminder.  It reminds me of my Mom and her flawed ways and it reminds me of me and my flawed ways too, although it seems to me my flawed ways are not nearly as bad as her flawed ways.  Hmm, maybe that is flawed thinking too....  By the way, when Mom died we had a LOT of junk to get rid of, it appears my little lesson did not work.