Frank and Earnest - Day 6

Blood splattered onto the tree the boy had been sitting under at the start of lunch. Blood splattered on the grass, on the table, and on the two ministers. The force of the bullet knocked Tommie’s body off the table and threw it to the ground. The officer who fired the shot remained motionless, but the other three rushed the table.

“Are you two okay?”

Neither minister answered. They both just sat there, trying to let their brains sort out what had just happened. The officer’s bullet had smashed into Tommie’s nose, exploding his head, and knocking him onto the ground.

The paramedics arrived, quickly checking on the health of the two preachers. They then turned to Tommie.

“No use checking his vitals. He’s dead. Call the Coroner.”

The Daily News carried the story the next day on page 1. It read:

TOWN SQUARE VIOLENCE ENDS IN BOYS DEATH

What started out as a beautiful, peaceful lunch time in Kerr Park quickly turned
ugly, when police were forced to shoot eleven year old Thomas Flannery of 1212
Oak St.

Witnesses report that local ministers Brother Reynolds and
Reverend Matthews were eating lunch in the town square when Mr. Flannery joined
them and began waving a pistol around.

Police responded to the 911
calls. When Mr. Flannery cocked his pistol hammer back, a yet to be
identified officer shot him.

The police are refusing to comment,
stating it is an ongoing investigation. Both Brother Reynolds nor Reverend
Matthews refused to comment.

Thomas Flannery, attended Mt.
Broadmere Elementary School where teachers said he was a shy, quiet boy.
Classmates said he stayed to himself and no one knew if he had any close friends
or not.

Mary Flannery, Thomas’ mother, died six months ago from a
fall in her backyard. There had been an investigation into her death, with
Whitmore Flannery, Thomas’ father, as the prime suspect, but there was not
enough evidence to pursue it, police records indicate.

On page 6 of the same paper, was a small article in the Faith section:

FIRST UNITED METHODIST CHURCH and CALVARY BAPTIST CHURCH ANNOUNCE COMBINED SERVICE FOR SUNDAY

First United Methodist and Calvary Baptist announced that for the first time,
they will have a combined service. The service will be held outdoors, on
the high school football field. Brother Reynolds and Reverend Matthews
will share the pulpit.

<>

Frank and Earnest - Day 5

“Okay preachers, back to them monkeys.”

This seem to break Frank out of his coma, for he turned and faced the boy directly.

“What about the monkeys, boy?”

“I was looking at a magazine the other day. You know, one of those that have those naked black gals in them.”

“National Geographic?”

“That might have been it. Don’t know for sure.

“Well, inside, there was some pictures of monkey bones just laying on the ground. Guess some tiger or lion ate it. Don’t know.”

Tommie looked directly into Earnest’s eyes.

“You saying we came from those same monkeys?”

Earnest began to answer, but was interrupted by the click of the hammer being pulled back on Tommie’s pistol. Earnest just starred into the barrel. Two seconds later, the shot rang out.

<>

A Frank and Earnest - Day 4

In the good old days, a shot ringing out in the town square would have brought a crowd to find out what happened. There would have been adults and children rushing to the sound’s source to see what car backfired, or what trash can fell of the grandstand.

It is a sad comment on today to see what affect the shot’s ringing sound had on the people in the town square that noon. They hit the ground and started crawling for cover. Those far enough away, ran. Few screamed, for they were afraid of attracting attention. At least five people, once they settled behind walls or trash cans, dialed 911.

Frank and Earnest were in complete shock. They both watched the evening news and both realized that they were in mortal danger. In their long ministries, they had both come upon many situations where they had to think on their feet, but never where a wrong word, and wrong expression, could mean their life.

“You twos are preachers, right?” asked Tommie, picking the conversation back up.

Both men nodded.

“My Daddy ain’t got much use of you. He says your about as useful as a Bible in a whorehouse. But my Mom, she likes your types a lot. At least she used to. She used to watch that there TV church service junk all the time. At least until ….” Tommie’s voice faded off as his eyes turned fuzzy.

The local police had arrived. Four officers, pistols drawn, stood in ready position, about 40 feet away from the three at the table. Several other officers ushered the people remaining in the town square out.

Earnest spoke up, “Son, put the gun down so we can talk.”

“This gun don’t stop us from talking.”

“Its just making me a bit nervous. Can’t you just put it down for a few minutes?”

“Well preacher, you ought to be nervous, because one of us at this table is going to die today.”

Frank remained frozen, as if he were a gazelle in the African plan, hoping the lions would walk on by.

“Yep preachers, one of us is going to die today.”

<>

Frank and Earnest - Day 3

Earnest broke the silence.

“What is your name, son?”

“Tommie.”

“Tommie, I’m Ernie and this is Frank.”

Tommie nodded to both.

Frank tried to speak calmly, but his voice quivered a bit.

“Boy, put that pistol away.”

Tommie ignored the order. He locked eyes with Earnest and began his series of questions.

“I heard y’all talking. I didn’t understand some of it, but from what I could tell, you were talking about if we came from monkeys or not, right?”

Both preachers nodded and waited.

Tommie raised the pistol and pointed it directly at Frank.

“You say no, right?”

Frank nodded.

The pistol moved over to Earnest.

“And you say yes, right?”

“No actually, I just said we might. I don’t know for sure.”

“But you think we did, don’t you?”

“Well, yes. If you put a gun to may head …” Earnest realized that he should not have used that old phrase at this particular moment. Tommie didn’t seem to notice.

Tommy let the gun point off to the side as he seem to drift off to deep thought.

Frank broke in.

“Son, put the gun away before someone gets hurt.”

The shot rang out before Frank’s last word drifted away. It wasn’t a blast like from a shotgun, but more of a crisp bang, like two pieces of wood slapped together. Frank’s paper lunch bag exploded, sending plastic and brown paper out in all directions. The slug buried itself in a large oak on the far side of the town square.

Both ministers jumped back at the noise and the violence of the bag exploding. Tommy lowered the gun and remained silent.


Sirens began to be heard in the background.

A Frank and Earnest Discussion - Day 2

“Frank, you can’t just ignore science by calling it lies.”

“I can if its true.”

“What about all the evidence, Frank?”

“You mean all those bones, Ernie? Oh yeah, like that is real solid evidence. Hmm, let me see, this here bone was found by those monkey bones over there, and this one looks like it might be close to a human, so that must mean monkeys became humans. Right!!!!”

“Frank, you have the great knack of taking something very complicated, making it simple, and then dismissing it.”

“Okay Ernie, tell me about Phylum jumping. Why isn’t there any evidence of those evolutionary steps that jumped from one distinct branch out to start a new one. How come, Ernie?”

“Just because you haven’t seen it yet, Frank, doesn’t mean it isn’t true. You of all people should know that.”

They both smiled and preachers do when some internal “preacher” joke is shared.

The boy had been concentrating on what the two preachers had been saying. He didn’t understand some of the words, but he did understand enough to confuse him. He looked down at his arm which he busted last summer on his bike. The doctor had shown him an x-ray and said that was it was a picture of his bone.

Finally, the boy hopped up and approached the two preachers. He pulled out his Dad’s 38 caliber pistol from inside his jacket and sat down at the preachers’ table.

Frank ignored the boy and concentrated on packing up his trash. Earnest started to greet the boy, and then saw the pistol in the boy’s hand.

“Uh, Frank, I think maybe you should leave the trash alone for a moment.”

“Oh right, and get in trouble from Stella again for not bringing my empty baggies home, I don’t think …” Finally Frank saw the boy and the gun. He froze in mid-movement.

The boy remained silent, slowly flipping the pistol in an experienced way. Finally, he looked up at the two ministers and said in a very calm, mature voice, “Y’all seem to be pretty smart. I have a few questions.”

The day seem to fade away until the entire universe was made up of two preachers, one kid, and one pistol.

My Aunt Margie

There is much I don't know about my Aunt Margie. I don't know her shoe size or if she wears thong underwear. I don't know if she likes the designated hitter or the prevent defense. I don't know if she wakes up early or sleeps in.

I do know that she is a most wonderful person. I know she always makes me feel special. Anywhere I go, I know I have an Aunt who really cares about me. I know she has an awsome responsibility being the caretaker of the Bob Adams Memorial Genealogical Library. And I know she has a birthday tomorrow.

So, what was Aunt Margie like in the early days? I started to go to a real Aunt Margie expert, my Dad (her brother), but I thought it would just tell the story about when she left him with two feet in one leg of his pajamas on Christmas morning, so I turned to pictures.

The Early Days

Little Bundles of Joy















Her Mother




Her family

Happy Birthday, Aunt Margie

A Frank and Earnest Discussion - Day 1

The summer days had just begun to bloom. The heat, which would become oppressive in August, still felt warm and refreshing after the cold of winter. People had not yet retired to their air conditioning. The town was busy, but in a relaxed way.

Two ministers met in at one of the many tables in the town square.

Frank was the local Southern Baptist preacher, had been one for some twenty years now. He wore his usual suit and tie, carried his usual brown bag lunch his wife had made for him.

Frank’s prominent stomach sought to escape the confinement of his white dress shirt, but the buttons hung on, barely. His black shoes were covered in dust, as usual, from his morning calls. The long strands of hair fought to return to the side of his head where they originated from Frank brushed them back to the top, which was quite empty, and boomed, “Hi Ernie!”

Earnest was the local Methodist preacher. He had been at this church for ten years and loved his church members, the town, and just about everything there was to love. His mother had spelled his name EARNEST instead of the more conventional ERNEST in an attempt to instill truth into her newborn. Earnest felt that it had worked.

Earnest returned “Hey Frankie,” and put his Salad Exchange sack down on the twelve layers of paint on the picnic table. Earnest was dressed in his usual casual slacks, short-sleeved shirt, and tennis shoes.

Frank and Earnest had problems at the beginning of their relationship, thinking of each other as rivals. But after a few years of competing bake sales, they grew fond of each other and had been meeting for lunch every Thursday for over five years.

They both settled into the attached seats, Earnest settling easier due to his slim stature.

“Frank, heard you’re preaching on Evolution again.”

Earnest had purposely waited until Frank had taken a big bite of his bologna sandwich to bring up this topic. He enjoyed watching Frank’s eyes burn while his jaw worked for force the bread and meat down quickly.

Neither Frank nor Earnest had noticed a young boy, around seven, who was just sitting under a tree close to them. The boy had been watching a horde of ants try to carry a dead grasshopper back to their hill, but he looked up when Frank asked his question.

“Ernie, I know we’ve talked about this many times before, but you can’t disguise lies by calling it science.”

Earnest slowly moved a small clump of salad from the plastic box into his mouth and smiled.
The little boy wasn’t smiling – he was just listening.

Leaves - Day 7

In the sixth year, the goat did not appear. Jeremiah became worried, and after the first snow fall, he decided to find out what happened. The next Saturday morning, he bundled up and headed back into the woods. He could not find the trail under the snow, but somehow made his way back to the clearing.

No one was rocking in the chair on the front porch. No cat, no goat were to be seen. But a thin line of smoke floated out of the chimney, so Jeremiah went to the front door and knocked softly.

A voice from inside that he recognized as Rusty the cat’s, snarled “It’s the kid.”

Jeremiah heard the shuffling of feet and felt the porch shake slightly as the old man opened the door.

“Hi kid.”

“Hello, sir.”

“You growed a bit over the years, eh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Sir, I was wondering if everything was alright?”

“Miss your leaf, eh?”

“No sir. Well, I mean yes sir. I was just worried that something might have happened.”

“Molly died, son.”

While Jeremiah had thought something was wrong, he never envisioned this.

“She was chewed up pretty badly by them wolves. She fought it bravely but finally her body gave out.”

Jeremiah looked over to where the tree had been in the side yard. The tree was gone, replaced by a grave with a small, wooden cross.

“The tree?”

“We cut it down and buried it with her. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

Jeremiah didn’t cry, although his insides were dark, sad, and lonely, as if all his major organs just got up and left. He told the old man goodbye and wandered away, finally making his way back home.


Jeremiah continued on with his life, becoming a successful local business man. One summer, he quietly purchased the woods behind his old school. There had been a push to tear down the woods for a new subdivision. He refused to let that happen and left the woods to themselves.

One glorious fall day, his son came home from school and began telling his dad about a story he heard that day – a story of a single purple leaf on a tree that would make you rich.

“Rich son?”

“Way rich, Dad.”

“You want to go look for it?”“You bet.”

The two grabbed their coats and headed for the woods. Jeremiah let his son lead, but gently guided him down the whisper of a path that was still burned in his brain.

Eventually, they came upon the same clearing. The cabin still stood, barely. The door was ajar, and it was obvious no one had lived there for many years. Strangely, the side yard was not overgrown, but neatly trimmed, as if it had been mowed every Saturday.

Jeremiah held his son’s hand and walked slowly over to the side yard. There stood an old, bedraggled goat, calmly chewing on the last grass of the year.

“Smokey?” Jeremiah asked softly.

“Nope, that’s my Grandma. My name is Gertrude. You that kid Grandma used to talk about?”

“I am.”

“The only kid to ever get the best of Grandma. She used to tell that story over and over and just laugh and laugh.”

“Dad, are you okay? That goat is sure making a lot of noise. Is he going to get us?”

“No son, he is a she, and she is perfectly safe.”

“Gertrude, can I see Molly?”

“Sure. I’ll leave y’all alone.”

Jeremiah told his son to stay right there for a minute and walked over to the grave site. There it was, carefully tended by Smokey and her descendants. And to Jeremiah’s surprise, out of the grave rose one, small trunk, with one small branch, and one most beautiful purple leaf.

As his eyes welled up with long suppressed tears, the leaf gently fell from the branch and landed at his feet.

“She wants you to have it,” said the gravely goat voice.

Jeremiah tenderly picked up the leaf and put it inside his jacket.

“Time to go, son.”

“You crying, Dad?”

“Nah, just got some dust in my eye. Let’s go see what’s for lunch.”
As they walked back through the snow laden woods, Jeremiah thought about what he had known for a long time – the single, purple leaf had indeed make him rich.

Pictures of the Birthday Girl

Twenty Six Years

1980
was a very good year
It was time
To stand up and cheer
That it was great
Is very clear

For in that year
1980 in October
While not
Completely sober
To the hospital
No time for Kroger

She scurried
With a friend
For some time
To spend
And then to
Actually expend

A beautiful girl
Just a wee one at first
With so much love
They thought she would burst
Not much crying
But loved to be nursed

A baby was born
A blessing to all
A herald of peace
To love was her call
All important
Large or small

Twenty-six years
Since that day
Millions of words
All to say
Celebrate the wonder
In every way.

Born a babe.
Grown to a woman.
Soon a mother.
Always a daughter.
And always a blessing.

Happy Birthday Kelly

Leaves - Day 6

The old man, in an almost friendly voice turned to Jeremiah.

“I was going to offer you a seat up here on the porch, but it now looks as if you might want to be standing for a spell. I ain’t ever see anyone put Smokey down like that, have you Rusty?”

The cat didn’t even raise an eye in acknowledgement.

“Molly, what should be do with our little visitor here?” asked the old man.

“He wants to be rich Grandpa. I don’t see no gold around here we can give him,” answered Molly. She was talking to the old man, but looking straight at Jeremiah, and smiling.

“She’s right, kid, we ain’t got no gold. Just this old cabin, a lazy cat, and that good-for-nothing goat.”

“We got the leaf, Grandpa.”

“Yep, reckon we do.”

Jeremiah was still a bit confused by all the happenings. A cat and a goat that could talk. Moving from going to die to being talked to as a household guest in the span of a few minutes left him a bit dizzy. And every time Molly talked, or even just looked at him, the world would sparkle like a giant firecracker.

“Tell you what, kid. You bested ol’ Smokey there, so you earned the right to the leaf. I don’t know about it making you rich or not, but its all yours.”

Rusty’s head rose from Molly’s lap, first looking at the old man and then to the Jeremiah. Smokey dropped his head to the ground, as if in shame for losing the fight.

Jeremiah thought for a few minutes. During this thinking time, no one else said a word.

“Sir, what does that leaf mean to you and your family here?”

The old man looked a bit shocked. He put his pipe down, smiled, and explained:

“Well boy, that there leaf is something special all right. It doesn’t have anything to do with riches are you know it, but each day of Fall, it gets prettier and prettier. Each and every day during this season, when we wake up and go out on this porch, that leaf is prettier than the day before. You just can’t believe how much joy that brings this little family.

“But you won it fair and square, so its yours.”

Jeremiah thought for a few minutes more. Once again, all were silent while they waited.

Molly interrupted the silence:

“I used to live in this cabin with my parents. We had a garden. Dad hunted and Mom sewed and cooked. We were really happy. One especially cold winter when I was five, a pack of wolves attacked our cabin. They killed both Mom and Dad and left me crippled. Grandpa came up here to take care of me. That winter was really hard, me missing my parents and healing from the attack, but the spring came fresh and up popped that little tree.

“It only had one leaf and Grandpa thought it would not survive the summer, but it did. And in the fall, its one leaf turned that glorious shade of purple. I figured it was a sign that Mom and Dad were still around, watching out for me.

“It has been four years now and that one leaf has come back every spring, and turned purple every fall. Each day that Grandpa carries me out on this porch, I look over and see that leaf, and I feel like they are holding me.”

Jeremiah knew what he should do.

“So the leaf is mine now Sir?”

“Yes it is boy.”

“Then I give it to you, Molly.”

He then turned around and ran back through the bushes he had first come. He ran all the way back to his school, and then walked back to his house.

He never told Frederick what had happened, even though he was asked many times. He told his mom that he had climbed a tree and ripped his pants. Each day that Fall, as he walked to school, he stopped and stared at the woods and the changing leaves, and wondered how beautiful the leaf was that day, and if Molly was happy.

One of the last days of Fall, when all the leaves had made their journey from branch to ground, Jeremiah walked to school as he normally did. He pulled his coat tightly around him and the wind was a bit strong today. His stocking cap was pulled low over his eyes. His feet knew the way without much direction.

But this morning, he bumped into something. Jeremiah mumbled “sorry” and took a step to the side. Once again, he bumped into something. He raised his hat off his eyes and was startled to see Smokey, the goat, standing in his way, with a glorious purple leaf in his mouth.

Smokey put the leaf into Jeremiah’s gloved hand and said, “It fell last night.” As the goat walked away, back towards the woods, he said, “Oh yeah, Molly says thank you.”

Jeremiah stared at the leaf until he could stare no more. He gently put it in-between page 52 and 53 of his Math book and continued onto school.

Every year, for the next 5 years, in late fall, after the last leaves had left their branchy home, the goat would show up on Jeremiah’s walk to school, holding a new purple leaf. Each leaf was as glorious as the last.

Leaves - the REAL Day 5

Editor's note: due to a technical snafu, yesterday's installment was issused under the title "Leaves - Day 5." Our crack proofing staff in Stillwater reported the error. Sorry for any confusion. The chapter was the actual day 4 chapter and here is day 5.
----
“Stop that right now!” Jeremiah turned around and screamed at the goat. The goat seemed to smile an evil smile and kept advancing.

As the goat jumped toward Jeremiah, to give that final push, getting him all the way up on the porch, Jeremiah took a step to the side and grabbed the goats horns. He quickly swung his right foot under the goat’s back legs and twisted the goat’s head to the right, putting his entire weight on the throw-down move. As they both hit the ground with a thud and a thump, Jeremiah quickly slid to his left so that the was on the goat’s back. He wrapped his legs around the goats belly and held onto the goat’s horns with one arm, wrapping his other arm around the goat’s exposed throat. Watching all that pro wrestling was paying off.

And he held on. He didn’t tighten his grip around the goat’s throat, for he didn’t want to kill it, but he didn’t loosen it either, for he didn’t want to be killed. The goat tried a few weak thrashes and rolls but could not break free of his attacker’s grip. So it finally just sighed, and said in a very feminine voice, “Well Pops, are you going to stay up on that porch laughing your head off, or are you going to get this kid off of me?”

In the tussle, Jeremiah had no time to see what was happening on the porch. He had his hands full just holding onto the goat. Now, he looked up at the porch and he noticed the old man laughing. He was still worried until he saw the cat had returned to the girl’s lap, and the girl was smiling one of the most beautiful smiles he had ever seen.

“Let Smokey go, kid,” commanded the old man and he returned to his rocker and relit his pipe.

Jeremiah figured Smokey must be the goat, so he relaxed. The goat, Smokey, rolled over and jumped to his feet, shaking as if to get the kid smell off of him. Jeremiah rolled over onto his stomach and started to stand up.

“Ouch” he yelled, grabbing his posterior.

“Smokey!” yelled the girl in a soft, humorous way. Smokey had decided he might have been beat, but he could get in one quick bite and then leave. As he chewed a large piece of Jeremiah’s pants, he wandered back over to the side yard.

Leaves - Day 5

Editor's Note: Most stories in this space have been 5 segment (or days) long. This one is longer, going a total of 7.
----
“Let’s see what he wants first, before we decide Grandpa,” answered Molly. It turned out Molly was the girl, and her voice was as soft and as peaceful as a mother’s voice putting her baby to bed.

“So whatcha want, young pup?” asked the old man. He had taken the pipe out of his mouth and had begun digging into the bowl, getting access to the final bits of tobacco left there.

“Well sir, we were, well, I was hoping to find the leaf.”

“The Leaf!” spit out the rusty cat, still curled on the girl’s lap.

“Got lots of leaves around here,” answered the old man as he relit his pipe with a wooden match he had found in one of the many pockets of his overalls.

“The Leaf, sir. The purple leaf, sir. “

“Oh, THAT leaf eh?”. The old man laid his pipe on the railing that went halfway around the porch and rose effortlessly from the chair. He walked to the steps in the middle of the porch, laid his hand on one of the supporting posts and asked, “and what would you do if you found this leaf.”

“Well sir, then I’d be rich.”

Instantly Jeremiah knew this was the wrong answer. The old man didn’t move, but his face transitioned from a gentle inquisitiveness into a harsh punishing mold. The rusty cat, jumped from the girl’s lap, landing on the porch railing, its tail and back raised. Even the girl changed, from mildly interested into deep disappointment.

While Jeremiah was frantically thinking of how to get out of this mess, he noticed the goat had moved around to his back, blocking his escape back to the path. Jeremiah’s eyes darted around, looking for an avenue of escape, and then saw it. Blocked from his initial view by the goat stood a small tree, no more than a twig really, surrounded by a small circle of grass. On this tree was one leaf. The leaf was the most brilliant purple possible.

Jeremiah’s total fascination with beautiful the leaf was interrupted by a shocking shove from behind.
“Hey” he yelled and the goat kept butting him towards the porch. There waited the old man, the cat, and the girl. The old man was holding a big piece of wood in his gnarled right hand. The cat was hissing, showing every fang it owned. The girl remained in the rocker. Just before the last butt from the goat, he noticed she was crying.

Leaves - Day 3

“Let’s go home, J., we shouldn’t be here.”

Jeremiah once again ignored his friend and just stared through the branches. In they clearing that the bushes enclosed sat a scene from an old black and white movie – rustic cabin, a water well off to the side, small barn in the back, a small, white goat gently grazing in the yard.

These objects did not cause the boys to halt so suddenly. It was the porch on the cabin, or the two people on the porch. The one on the left was the picture perfect hermit -- mud covered overalls, straw hat, corncob pipe with a small whisper of smoke rising from its bowl, sitting in a rocking chair, rocking.

On the right was the most beautiful girls either boy had ever seen, or had even ever imagined. She had dark red hair which hung down loosely, laying gently upon her shoulders. She was wearing a simple white work dress and no shoes. She too was rocking in an old contraption made of twigs and leaves. On her lap, sat a rust-colored cat whose yellow eyes stared at the boys.

Frederick began pulling on Jeremiah’s pants, trying to get him to leave, but Jeremiah stayed still and kept staring at the girl.

The cat hissed through its closed mouth. The old man muttered through his pipe-filled teeth, “I sees dem.” The girl did not respond, but continued to stroke the cat with long, lazy passes.

Jeremiah was the brave one of the pair. He was also the smartest one, and his brain was screaming to grab Frederick and get out of there. But Jeremiah wasn’t listening to his mind at this moment. Instead, he knocked Frederick’s hand off of his pants and stepped out into the opening.

“Howdy,” he called, waving his left hand as if he was waving hello to his mother.

“So whats you going to do, Pops?” came a silky voice. Jeremiah at first thought the girl had said these words but quickly realized it was the cat who had actually spoken. Jeremiah didn’t hear the crash behind him, the crash of his friend falling as he tried to run away.

“Whatcha think I should do, Molly?” muttered the old man.

Jeremiah didn’t know if Molly was the beautiful girl, the cat, or the goat for that matter. But he did realize that the answer to this question was going to be very important to him.

Leaves - Day 2

“J., you sure its safe to go in this deep? You remember what the principal said happened a few years back.”

“Yeah Femalister, I remember what she said. She said a group of kids wondered into the woods and never came back.”

“That’s right, J. Never came back.”

“You believe her?”

“ Well sure. She is the principal you know.”

Jeremiah shook his head and continued following the overgrown path that lead deeper into the woods. His friend Frederick followed, still moaning about how dangerous this was, but Jeremiah blocked his mutterings out.

“Come on Foobleheart, I think I see something on the other side of these bushes…. Oh … My …. Gawd..”

“Now J., you know how you aren’t suppose to be using the Lord’s name in vain….. Jesus ….”

Jeremiah had just pulled apart the think brush ahead and what the two boys stopped them completely.

Leaves, Day 1

Editor's note: Levels is being stopped at this point due to lack of inspiration. The author is switching to a different 'L' story line -- Leaves.

============================================

Early October is such a pretty time in northern Michigan. In many other sections of the country, October signals the beginning of the time for things to die. In northern Michigan, it signals the time of fulfillment.

Starting in the spring and all through the summer, the ash and maple trees pump nutrients from roots to the leaves in preparation for October. And if their preparation was done well, the entire woods are welcomed to a glorious performance of colors and shades, providing a warm glow that last deep into the cold winter.

In many sections of the country, leaves die in October and fall to the ground, to be raked up and either burned or stuffed into a paper sack. In northern Michigan, the leaves transform from their green sameness into unique, bursting colors, and then when they are ready, glide gracefully to the waiting audience of the woods ground. There they are joined by their fellow performers, eventually snuggling together and drifting off to sleep.

“Hey J, what’s up?”

“Nuttin’ Freako, what’s up with you?”

“Nuttin’”

J, (his full name was Jeremiah, his friends called him ‘J’), was 9 years old that fateful October. He had lived in northern Michigan all his life, and like most in that area, never grew tired of the fall colors.

J’s friend’s name was Frederick. Most called him Freddy. J called him Freako, Fagmaster, Fropworst, and lots of other names that began with ‘F’. They were best friends that October.

“J, let’s go look for the Leaf.”

The Leaf was described in an old wood’s legend about a hermit who lived deep in the woods. The hermit owned a tree that only had one leaf, the leaf. And that leaf, in October, turned a bright purple. If you found that hermit, that tree, and that leaf, after it had turned purple and before it fell to the ground, you would … well, no one was sure what would happen, but it was suppose to be really cool, and that is all a pair of nine year old boys needed to know.

“You bet Fredmister. How about us looking in those woods behind the school today?”

“Those woods, J? Gee, I don’t know. You know what they say about them?”

“Yeah, I know Frighternister. You scared, you little girl?”

“I ain’t scared.”

“Let’s go.”

And the adventure began.

Levels - Day 1

Woman 1 with 5 year old in tow: “Excuse me, can I get through?”

Woman 2 standing in line at the bagel shop: Oh me, I was daydreaming and got in that lady’s way. How clumsy of me. I’ll just back up, out of her way..

Man 3 standing behind Woman 2: “For God’s sake lady, watch where you are going. You made me spill my coffee.”

Server hears man yelling and thinks he is yelling at her, so she tries to hurry and cuts self and starts to cry

Manager sees server crying and storms off, muttering about how hard it is to get good help

Kid with Woman 1 sees all the commotion and says, woman 1, “what is all that about?”

Woman 1 says “no idea, people are so rude anymore”

Day 6 - Faith is ...

Day 6

Day 6, the last day of the conference, began as the other five had, with the group gathering in the circle. Any earlier thoughts that the young girl did not belong in such an elite group were chased away by her reactions to each of the earlier presenters. While no one may have conscientiously recognized it, each one was more than just a bit excited to hear what the young girl had to say. When the group sat down in the clearing, they finally realized that the young girl was not with them. So they waited, each with their own thoughts.

The sun was almost directly overhead when she showed up in their circle of sharing. She walked gently into the circle, nodded at each of the other four, and sat in her chair. Her hair, always tied back before, laid loosely around her neck. Her face, so clean and bright before, was now marked with tear trails as if small canyons were in the process of being created. Even her posture, so straight and correct before, showed the entire slump of her inner being.

After a long silence, the air began to feel awkward for the first time in the entire week. Finally, the cheerleader spoke,

Faith is simple.

All heads turned to look at the cheerleader, except the head of the young girl. Next, the professor spoke,

Faith is simple.

No heads turned this time. Next, the hard man bellowed in the quietest voice he had yet used:

Faith is simple.

And lastly, the old man mumbled

Faith is simple.

This last statement seemed to reset an internal switch in the young girl, for she looked up, and a small smile began.

Cheerleader:

Faith is simple. I understand so much better now. Faith is
simple. The results of faith are wonderful. The joy, the peace, the
comfort, the love; these are all the result of faith. But faith itself is
simple.

Professor:

Yes, I agree, Faith is simple. I still say that its application, from time
to time, is complicated. But many times, it is we who make it complicated
by trying to apply a million rules to a million situations. The basic
tenets of faith are very simple.

Hard man:

I too agree, Faith is simple. And as my esteemed colleague the professor
just pointed out, its application is sometimes hard. And as he also
pointed out, we many times make its application so much harder than it needs to
be.

Old Man:

I began this week fully convinced that faith was ridiculous. I saw, on a
daily basis, how faith drove people into such wrongful situations. Now I
understand it was not faith that did the driving, but actually the lack of
faith. It was people putting themselves in front of their faith and doing
the driving. Faith itself, is left alone and unhindered, is simple … and
wonderful.

The young girl looked around the circle, making eye contact with each of member. She quietly asked,

What changed your minds?

Each member answered with their own reason,

Your pat on my knee.

Your handkerchief against my
forehead.

Your kiss on my cheek.

Your tears.

The tears started up again, but this time they were tears of compassion, of joy, of togetherness; and this time each member shared their tears with the group.

As the rays from the sun sank low in the western sky, the five joined hands, bowed their heads, and prayed the simple prayer of a simple faith:

Lord, we are Yours. Hold us tightly. Guide us strongly. Keep
our eyes open in Your direction. Make us Yours in everything we do.

Deep in the forest, five individuals met. Each one was considered very intelligent in their own circles. Each one brought with them their own unique perspectives, backgrounds, and prejudices. And each one had a different answer to the eternal question of What is Faith? And each one left with the same answer, a new answer for four of them, a better answer, one they felt was the right answer, -- a simple answer.

Faith is simple.

-------------------
Postlude. The convention in the woods came from a discussion I had with my dear sister. We were exploring different sides of a topic as we oft do, when I stumbled upon a realization and told her: "You have a simple faith." At the time, I believe she thought this was an insult. I hope after this story, she realizes what a true compliment I was trying to make.

Day 5 - Faith is ...

Author's note: this story will break the 5 day convention, so stay tuned for day 6 and beyond

Day 5

The five gathered in the clearing the next day. No one was surprised that the old man had not arrived earlier and laid out an elaborate setting of computers and white boards, or of balloons and streamers. He was, after all, just an old man.

After each had taken their seat, the old man, still seated, began. He words flowed out in a mumbling sort of way, but yet each word was easily understandable.

Faith is ridiculous.

Look at what faith has brought to this
world. Look at the wars fought due to faith. Look at the lives lost,
waiting on faith to come forth and heal them. Look at the tremendous waste
of time millions upon millions spend on nurturing their faith, and then throw it
away when its not convenient. Look at …

And the old man continued for the rest of the day, citing example after example after example of the dark side of faith. He never rose from his chair. His voice never varied, staying in the distinct mumble. His eyes never rose from staring at the ground three feet in front of his chair. And yet he filled the day and into the early evening hours with words.

As the forest began to shut itself down for its rest time, the old man finished by saying:

Faith is ridiculous.

It is sand used to fill in holes that
we don’t know what to do with. It is litter along man’s path that we just
don’t know where to throw. It is refuse and garbage and trash and it
should be removed from our existence.

Faith is ridiculous.

And then there was silence so silent, even the evening animals of the forest stayed quiet.


This time the young girl was not the first one to rise. The three others got to their feet and left, leaving only the young girl and the old man. The old man finally raised his head up and looked straight into the young girl’s face. There he saw a face full of sadness, completely wet from tears. He stared at her for far longer than he had looked at anyone in a long time, lowered his head again, and left the circle. No one knew how long the young girl remained in the circle, crying.