Monday, December 31, 2012

Ten Changes in 2013


Ten Changes in 2013

I’m not big on “resolutions” because it seems like rules are just made to be broken.  Therefore, I’m going to make some “Changes in 2013.”  Some things either I am going to do differently, or some things I hope to influence to go in a new direction.  These are in no particular order.

1.       A New Weight-Loss Trend—I started going down in the two weeks leading up to Christmas, but that all stopped when my girls got home from college.  However, after the holidays end, I’m back on the losing trend.

2.       Renewed-Bible Study Focus—Like almost anyone else, I get off track.  It’s time to get back into the studies for my personal spiritual development, and so I can have some creative things to write about.

3.       A Tighter Fiscal Belt—My belt was already tight, but with congress jacking around with taxes and increased healthcare costs (What happened to the great savings from Obama-care?), things are going to be even closer to the line in 2013.

4.       A Greater Physical Activity Level—I just got my left Achilles Tendon repaired proactively and pre-rupture.  This should make me able to be much more physically active in 2013.  I still have some active accomplishments on my bucket list.  (Can you say “14er”, anyone?)

5.       Better Organization—Don’t let my boss see my office!!!!  Seriously, I do need to sort, file, and straighten both my work materials and my personal papers.  I plan to devote some serious time to getting this done in 2013.

6.       Become More Thoughtful—Sometimes, I get so caught up in my own head that I miss opportunities to do meaningful things for other people…especially my wife.  I need to intentionally think about what would be helpful and pleasing to those around me.

7.       Utilize Humble Leadership—I am in a leadership position as an elder at my church, but to do that effectively, I have to be both ACTIVE and HUMBLE.  I need to influence good movement to accomplish good things, but do it in a way that lifts others up and brings glory to God.

8.       Create “Unplugged” Events—Cell phones, Laptops, Facebook, Twitter, Blogs, etc.  So much of my life is “on-line” or “in-touch” that I find that I don’t relax well anymore.  I need to schedule periods of disconnectedness in order to give my mind a break from all the mess of today’s world.  I need the freedom to think without interruption.

9.       Finish My Novel—I started it a couple of years ago.  The story is nearly complete, but I’ve lost the steam and need to drive it to the finish.

10.   Further Define the Long-Term—Where do I want to be in five years?  I have told people that I want to re-create myself by age 56.  That is five years away.  I need to more fully develop that concept.

That’s probably too many thinks to effectively change all at once, but hopefully I can make some difference, and hopefully the list that I create at this time next year will look a bit different.  What is on your list this year?

Happy New Year!

Mike

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Abandoned into the Paradox of Oblivion


I’ve basically been off work since December 19th.  This has not nearly afforded me as much creative time as I had anticipated, but it has been a nice break from my usual routine.  I had hoped to do more writing…maybe a poem and another Muncie Boyhood story…and, maybe create a new Henry the Preacher cartoon.  Somehow, though, between the jumble of my daughters being around, the rumble of the TV as one of them watched endless episodes of “Friends,” and the tumble of holiday life, I just couldn’t find much to say.

I did manage to write a new “Abandon, Indiana” short story.  I titled it “A Fire in Abandon.”
It was a Christmas story, and I enjoyed the creative juices that it stirred.  However, shortly after I typed that little fictional short into the annals of my creative history, I discovered something that caused me no small amount of concern and discouragement.  I found out that my creation of the small town of Abandon, Indiana was not nearly as unique as I had thought.  Seems another writer had the same inspiration…a few years before me.

The author, Amy Hensley wrote a novel titled “Abandon, Indiana” and self-published it about a decade ago.
Abandon, Indiana by Amy Hensley

I found it while doing a little Google search to see if my stories would pop up with key phrases.  Talk about being hit by a ton of bricks!  I had all these plans to keep creating new “Abandon” stories.  Plus, I have a much longer work that I started a couple of years ago that has never been completed that is centered around this fictional little village.  I was shocked at first.  Then, I was disappointed, followed by an interlude where I was simply determined to change directions, but I ended up just disappointed again.

I have no doubt that our stories are very different.  I read the little blurb that describes the novel, and it is nothing like anything I had imagined, but the title of her work is too close.  It would make it appear that I had copied her, and that is definitely not something I would do or ever want to do.  So, I’m going to need to change the name of my little town.  The problem is that I had worked the name of the town into the titles of the stories, so what to do about that?

And, there’s the fact that I just don’t want to change the name of my little town.  I don’t wanna!  (Imagine that last little bit with a childish whine.)

But, I suppose I really need to.

I think I could keep the title of my recent Halloween story “Out of the Depths of Abandon.” 
I think it would still fit okay.  However, the Christmas story will probably need to change.  The story title wouldn’t make sense if I changed the name of the town without changing the title.

So, I’m considering alternative names for my strange little town in southern Indiana that is nestled up against the Hoosier National Forest.  It needs to sound real, but with an air of mystery.  After all, this is a place where the layers of existence are thin and odd things sometimes occur.  Paradox?  I thought about that one, but I’ve been given the advice that it sounds too cliché.  I’ve had a few suggestions from some folks on my Facebook page, and they have been helpful in my thinking.  Right now, I’m considering Oblivion, Indiana.  What do you think?

I’m not in a hurry, though.  If I have to make a change, I don’t want to rush it and have to do it all over again.  And, I don’t think I’m causing Amy Hensley any trouble with my relatively unknown short stories.  If anything, my writing about this will bring her a little attention with the twenty or thirty of you who will read this post.  So, I’m going to think about this a little longer.

Eventually, though, you will see a new name for my little town, and a new title for at least one of my stories.

In the meantime, I must admit that I am discouraged.  One of the greatest strengths and one of the greatest weaknesses of those who pursue creativity is that they are often more controlled by emotions than they would like to admit.  Those emotions drive the creative process.  Sometimes, though, those same emotions can grind it to a halt.  I think I’m somewhere in between.  I’m discouraged enough to want to just do nothing, but aware enough to try to push through it.

Thus, this post.

I will be back at it soon.  Those creative juices are still sitting in the recesses of my mind.  Something will get them stirring again soon.  No doubt.  My writing will not be Abandoned into the Paradox of Oblivion.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

A Muncie Boyhood-My Father's Journal

Last week, while I was digging through some of my dad's old papers looking for a picture for my last Boyhood blog, I stumbled upon a spiral bound notebook.  I must have seen it before, but just never paid any attention to it.  This time, I stopped in my search and said aloud: "I wonder what that is."  It had a light blue cover and had an old paperclip closing off a section.  I pulled it out, sat down, and unclipped the pages.

Flipping open the cover, I saw the heading:  "December 1961."  Geesh, I thought.  That was the month I was born.  Then, I saw the first entry date:  "Dec. 24."  Wow!  Six days before my birth!  For the next hour, I abandoned my search in order to read my dad's intimate thoughts from December 24th, 1961 to July 25th, 1963.  Although the consistency of his entries wanes after the first few months of my life, the intensity of his life is only amplified until it culminates in the last four words he entered.

I am providing the full journal below.  I have added a few comments that are in brackets and the font is changed to blue.  I have striven to maintain the original spelling and grammar...except where auto-correct has foiled my efforts..., so don't be surprised at the obvious errors.  I have left them there on purpose.

I hope you are as intrigued as I was.....and, without further delay....

The Journal of Ralph R. DeCamp:


December 1961

Dec. 24 – Snowing will be a white Christmas.  Marge & Sharon bought most of the gifts.  I had no money after the family expenses.  Freddie & Violet have no work so must be helped.  To-nite Christmas eve we open our gifts.  All happy but Marge a little hurt because I could get her so little.

Dec. 25.  Christmas day.  Cold-white & beautiful on the Lord’s birthday.  Our baby (me) due soon.  Marge & I spend the day alone.  She fixed a big dinner but the children are all away.  Alice & Mariline drop in as we finish our late dinner  Alice eats a little.

Dec. 26 – First day of work on second shift.  (Chevrolet)  Called home at 7:00 PM.  Margie having pains.  Dutch picks me up at the shop.

Dec 27 – 3:00 A.M.  Take Margie to hospitable.  Mickey drives us out.  It has started to snow  Sharon working hard as usual at baby sitting.  Have been urging Bob to get a job.  Won’t work to-day.

Dec. 28 – No baby.  Margie having false labor pains.  Its snowing & colder.  Won’t go to work to-day

Dec. 29 – Still no baby.  I’m tired but must go to- work.  It’s snowing hard this after-noon.  Lenard picks me up at hospitable.  Have a car accident on way to work.  Slide into a little compact car.  No damage to Lenards car

Dec. 30 – It’s Saturday morning.  Cold but very beautiful this morning with the sun shining on the new snow.  Just as it is suppose to be when baby is born  Margie pains getting worse & closer to-gether.  Baby born at 11:02 A.M.  A boy 6lbs 7ozs  Mother & boy ok.  I go to work.

Dec. 31.  Out to see Margie & Baby at hospitable.  Bob has fall at hospitable  Must be checked before we leave  We drop Sharon off at her friends home an arrive at home about 10:30pm  Must name baby.  Bob & I spend a quiet New Years eve watching T.V.  Gave Freddie & Violet money to get along

1962

Jan. 1 – Margie & baby ok.  We name the baby Michael Raymond.  It’s brother Miles’ birth day  The weather turning colder to-nite with wind.

Jan. 2  Cold & windy  Send Bob to look for work.  No luck he says.  Margie & Michael ok.

Jan. 3,  Mickey drives me out to bring home Margie & baby.  She buy gifts for the baby.

Jan. 4  All’s well at our home.  Sharon still working long hours baby sitting for people.  Bob & Freddie have no work.

Jan. 5  God is kind.  All is well

Jan 6.  Twenty-five dollars to Freddies.  He can’t find work

Jan 7. – Cold & sunny.  Bob was to look for work this week but it may be to-cold.

Jan 8  Monday very cold.  Bob doesn’t go out to look for work.  Red Foster pays ten dollars on old debt

Jan 9.  Very cold  12 below zero

Jan 10.  Still very cold.  Below zero but sunny  Margie sick

Jan 11  Margie no better.  It’s a little warmer to-day

Jan 12  Margie better.  She has gone to shop.  Bought a coat dress purse shoes etc.  I had a time at South way Shopping-Center.  Bags burst on me.  Resacked them & brought cab home.  Bob gets job at Meadows shopping center  will go to work next week.  Foster pays another ten on debt.

Jan 13  Saturday went to Yorktown with Jack.  Listened to ball game.  Came home to find I had forgotten Freddie & Violet.  They were here & had to move.  Gave them the usual twenty-five dollars & got the move post poned

Jan 14  Sunday – Bob gets a mean injury playing basketball.

Jan 15  Bob much better.  Goes to work  I still working nites.

Jan 16  Have a nasty cold

Jan 17  Cold no better. Family ok

Jan 18  Cold to-day.  Gave Freddie his twenty-five dollars for rent & groceries

Jan 19  Bought most of our weeks grocerys to-day at South-way shopping Center  Paid bill at Sears.  Red Foster pays another Ten dollars on debt.

Jan 20  Paid bill at Sears & finished shopping for grocerys.

Jan 21  Sabath – Restful day – God is good to this house

Jan. 22  All well with family

Jan 23  A cold but sunny day  Loads of sun shine this winter

Jan 24 – Margie about wore out

Jan. 25  Cold but sunny.  God is good to us.  Bob says Freddie has job with furnace man.  Bob working as is Sharon  Bought some groceries to day.

Jan 26 – Started raining early.  Ground frozen.  Water running off fast.  Rivers full of ice will flood.  Lenard brings me home with grocerys.  Had a very hard nights work.

Jan 27  Saturday.  Bob blows most of his first check for Watch & lighter.  Gave me four dollars for board.  Sharon has sun tan stuff all over face, hands, and arms.  She looks terrible

Jan 28.  The Lord’s day.  God has been good to us.  Helped Freddie & Sharon with there income tax forms.

Jan 29 – Robbie & Helen take Margie & Michael to doctor for check up  They’re ok.  Baby is 20 ½ inches long.  Weighs 8lbs 7oz.  Bob stays all nite at John’s.

Jan. 30.  Baby eats his first solid food.  Received check for doctor.

Jan. 31  Cold wind to-day.  Freddie isn’t Working this week so far.  Bob goes to work.  Bought some of our grocerys.

Feb. 1  Bob didn’t come home last nite  Fixed bath drains today; also fixed tire for Boyle’s.  Had about 3 inches of snow last nite.  It’s cold.  Freddie gets another 25 dollars.

Feb 2. – Ground-hog see shadow.  Pay some bills & get grocerys.  Foster pays another ten on debt.

Feb 3.  Attended union meeting.  The Matchetts have there new baby.  A girl.

Feb 4.  Over to see the new baby at Mickeys.  She’s very pretty.  The day is warm & there’s plenty of sunshine.  Tempeture in the 60s.

Feb 5.  Bob off to work this morning  Sharon home.  Has quit job.  They’re 57 dollars behind on her wages  Shes afraid they will never pay.  Baby fussing this morning.

Feb. 6  Very cold and windy near zero

Feb. 7  Sharon receives ten dollars of her back wages.  Warmer to-day.

Feb. 8.  Baby sick with it’s first cold.  Makes me uneasy.  Mickey baby sick; Sharon goes over to help.  Bob not working to-day; Don’t know about Freddie.

Feb. 9  Snowing to-day; about two inches  Not so cold.  Bob gets fired.  Freddie comes in with clothes.  He & Frau have another quarrel.  Willard Foster pays all of principal on old loan with another Ten dollar payment.

Feb. 10.  Clear skies to-day.  Must find means of getting more grocerys

Feb. 11  The Lord day.

Feb. 12  Hard days work.

Feb. 13  Slept late cold feels better.  The weather warmer near 34◦

Feb. 14  A valentine from Earle & Lois for the baby.  Michaels first.  A check for ten dollars inside.  Marge buys baby bed. I have a bad cold.  Eyes watering & nose running.  Bob working tomorrow for John.

Feb. 15  Still warm.  My cold no better.  Bob off to work.

Feb. 16  Cold to-day.  Paid some bills and bought some grocerys.  Foster pays another ten dollars on debt leaving a balance of only fifteen dollars.

Feb. 17  The orbiter flight of John Glenn again postponed.  Freddie still working.  Bob working for John.  Not happy.

Feb. 18  the Lord’s Day.  He is good to this home.

Feb. 19,  Blue Monday.  Cold, windy with rain changing to snow.  Tomorrow the space flight of John Glenn is again scheduled.  May God be with him.

Feb. 20  the space flight of John Glenn is off.  All is well.  Right now in 3 orbit.  Michael has learn to play a little.  His is growing fine.  The sun is out.  Its cold but nice out.

Feb 21.  The flight of John Glenn a great sucess.  Had over two inches of snow last nite & this morning.  Michael receives a card from the Shenk’s with a five dollar bill.

Feb. 22  Mickey pays us a visit with her baby Laura Ann.  Bob didn’t get to work for John

Feb. 23  Freddie job about to end.  He received notice to move.  Landlady can’t stand their fights.  Bob not working to-day.  Complaining of sore shoulder.  Weather cold.  Looks like another  storm brewing.

Feb. 23, Cont.  Foster pays debt in full.  There’s a bad snow storm going on.  Some of the fellow go home from work at supper time.

Feb 24.  Bearcats win the Sectional.  Violet spends the night here.  Freddie out messing around.

Feb. 25  Violet goes home to mother.  Freddie doesn’t seem to care.  Went with Jack over to Clints & then back to his place.  All there children are well & so much fun.  The Lord’s day a pleasant one.  Warm & the snow leaving fast.

Feb. 26  the baby goes to the doctor’s to-day for check up.  Snow nearly gone.  Freddie goes on rampage again.  Completely wrecked Sharon’s room upsetting all the furniture & slashing most of Sharons clothing.  Margie call police but he leaves.

Baby ok.  Now weighs 11lbs 3z.

Feb. 27  Margie cleans up mess in Sharon’s room.  I’m so discouraged.  May God help us.  Its cold.

Feb. 28.  Very cold.  Walk home from work.  (2 miles)  Lenard sick.  Stopped grocery on way home from work.  Bought what I could carry.

March 1.  Very cold.  Mickey pays us a visit.  There baby sure is a beauty.  Michael good today.  Mickey takes Sharon over to Leo Darts home to try to get some of her money.  He refused to give her any of it; also got real nasty with her.

March 2.  Still very cold.  Paid the bills today.  The baby very cross.  Freddie picks up his last check.

March 3  Freddie stops in a minute.  That’s all I know.  Ramsey called wants to buy Margie old car.  Still very cold.

March 4.  Freddie & Violet move back in home.  He blowed all his money on an old car; had no place to sleep nor money for food.  It’s cold & snowing

March 5  Freddie & Violet sleep on floor.  It’s still cold & snowing.  The little one (Michael) is ok.  Wants to play some now.

March 6  Had another snow storm last nite.  About 4 or 5 inches with some drifts.  Sharon wants to marry.  The man, Bill Sours.  Will try to get the Judges ok to-day.  Helen keeping the baby while they go to town.

March 6. Con.  Sharon to marry to-morrow.  Wants me at wedding.  Will have to miss work & we need the the money desperatly.  Freddie & Violet will have to live in until he gets a steady job.

March 7  Ash Wednesday.  Sharon and Bill were married to-day at 6:00 P.M. in the South Side Baptist Church.  Reverend David Davison perform the cermony.

March 8.  Rainney & chilly.  Bill leaves for Camp Dix New Jersey to-morrow

March 9.  Bill gone back to camp.  Sharon home.

March 10.  Listened to the basket ball game  Muncie lost to Anderson.

March 11  Cloudy & warm.  Slept late.  Tooth ake for several days now.  Production raised at Chevrolet  Now running 640 per day; up 50

March 12  Cloudy & rain.  First day of new production schedule; 650 per day

March 13.  Marge takes baby over to Mickey’s  Violet worried about Freddie  Bob working for John.  Cold with snow mixed with rain.

March 14  Cold & cloudy.  Marge very nervis.

March15  Freddie a big worry.  Baby not well.

March 16.  Bought some grocerys.

March 17  More grocerys to buy.  Sharon wants to go see her husband.

March 18  The Lord’s day.  All well.

March 19  Still quite cold

March 20.  Took Bob to doctor yesterday for a banged up nose.  Its not broken but must be taped up.

March 21  Michael better.  Freddie fixing up his Mothers old car.

March 22  Sharon returns from South Carolina & visit with Bill.

March 23  Freddie not working.  Things are bad here at home.

March 24  First day of sun shine in over a week.

March 25, The Lord’s Day.  Cloudy but not so cold.  Have not had one warm day this year

March 26  Some sun to-day.  Robbie & Helen take Margie & Baby to doctor.  Michael gets some shots.  He now weighs 13 lb. & 5 oz.; 23 ½ inches in height

March 27.  Michael sleeping.  The day sunny & warmer.

March 28 – Nice day

March 29  Received light bill $21.27.  A back breaker.  The sun is shining.  It’s warm & windy.  Margie washing to-day.

March 30 – Cool & cloudy.  Paid the bills & bought grocerys.

April 7,  Cold & windy.  Bought more grocerys.

April 8  the Lord day.  Rain  Michael has his first cold.  Freddie & Violet still a big worry.  Bob’s cold no better

April 9,  Rain.  Sharon in Indianapolis for over a week.  Staying with her sister-in-law.

April 10  Warm & sunny.  Michael cross with cold.

April 19.  Round of colds has hit the family.  Michael better.  Bobby at Brazil.  Sharon at her sister-in-laws.  Freddie no job as yet. It’s hard to meet the bills.  It’s a bright day.

April 30 – Have our first spring rain with thunder & lightning.  It came as a climax of a week of warm day & nights.

May 6.  Another rain.  It’s been a dry spring.  Cool after the rain

May 8.  Another rain last night  Freddie working in Filling station.

May 28,  The long dry spell is ended.  Have had 3 nice rains in as many day.  The peonies are blooming but won’t last long  Freddie & Violet have there own place now.  Bob stay with John.  Sharon home yesterday & to-day.  Michael recovering from bad cold.  As of last Saturday he now turns over by him self.  Weight 16 lb 6 oz  May 11.  Twenty 25 inches in height

June 18  Hot to-day after several very pleasant days.  Perhaps it will rain.  Michael doing well.  Weight 17 lb 15 oz as of the 11th of this month; 25 inches long.  Bob gone most of the time  Freddie & Violet still having their troubles.  Some one stole their rent money.  Freddie fired because of spark plugs missing at station while he was on duty.  Sharon starts restruant work to-day.

Dec. 14  Robert in the Army; left the Dec. 12.  Sharon has an apartment.  Still have to keep Freddie & Violet.  They can’t find work.  Michael cut his first tooth September 12.  Had 3 more less than a month later.  Gets all over the house crawling & walking around things  Says a few words.

The last few days in November were really unusual; lasted until the 4th of Dec.  Real Indian summer  quiet sunny days with temperatures in or near 70◦s.  This week is very cold.  Below zero with some snow here & heavy snow north near lakes.

Dec 27.  Cold & clear to-day.  Zero weather to-day & a prommise of the same for to-morrow.  Nice Xmas.  Michael loves the Christmas tree.  He won’t touch.  Much be the wonder of it.  Robert goes back to Camp Knox New Years.  Must be there the second.

1963

Jan. 12  Margie took Michael to the doctor Thursday.  He weighs 21 lb 13 oz.  Is 29 ½ inches in height.  Freddie still without work.  Have a letter from Bob at Fort Knox.  He’s doing ok.  Sharon has an apartment.  The weather has been warm & the snow gone.  It’s turning much colder to-day.  Margie over the Flu; now leaving for the shopping center.

Jan. 13  Very cold this Sunday.  All ok  Checking accounts & find myself in a bad way.  Must write a letter to Bob.

Feb. 10  Quiet Sabbath.  Michael some better.  Winter hanging in there.  It snowing a little to-day.  Have a army group picture from Bob.

Feb. 17.  A quiet Sabbath.  Freddie in deep trouble.  Sharon has a car.  Wrote another letter to Bob.  Filed my gross taxes.

March 3  Michael started walking the 26 of February.  Helen and Robbie taught him with a cigarrette lighter he wanted.  Had a heavy snow last Friday about like last year.  Worked over time again.  Make the third week.  Bear-Cats win the Sectional.  Freddie still in jail.  Bob doing his for Uncle Sam.  I’m very discouraged.

March 11 – Cold and rainy.  Freddie’s lawyer to try for lower bond.  All are well except for cases of nerves  Sharon here for a little while Sunday.  Bob called.  Needed money which I couldn’t spare.  Work six days the past two weeks  May God be with us & love us!  “Bear-Cats” win at New Castle Regional.

March 17.  Cloudy & warm.  All are well this quiet Sabbath day.  Have hope for Freddie now.  May God be with us.  The “Bear-Cats” win Semi-finals at Indianapolis.  Have worked the last three Saturdays “by the grace of God.”  No letter from Bobby this week.

March 24,  A very lovely Sabbath with sunny skies.  No word from Robert this past week.  Freddie home on bond.  Sharon some better after a nervis collapse.  Michael ok.  “Bear Cats” win state Crown  65 to 61  Worked six days but finnacial standing very precarious.  Had so many extra expenses

April 1st  Very warm & nice this morning after raining all day yesterday.  Lord has been good.

July 25  The weather hot.  Having some rain after long dry spell.  Things are very discouraging.  Freddie in trouble again an in jail.  Was jailed July 13 for forgery.  This time he was played for a sucker.

Robert in Alaska for a couple of months Seems to be doing better. 

The basement & garage full of Freddie & Sharons junk.  Very depressing to look upon. 

Margie some better from a bad ulcer. 

Michael doing fine.  Was 32” in height and weighed 23 lbs at 18 months

Am losing all hope
 
 

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Melancholy in the Wake


I am prone to the occasional melancholy.  It comes upon me from time to time for various reasons.  In times past, it used to weigh upon me like a load of bricks compressing all volume from my heart.  More recently, it has been more subtle and less oppressive.  Sometimes I know the source and sometimes I cannot tell from where the oppression hails.

Today, the melancholy flows from Connecticut.

If that horrendous tragedy isn’t enough, the feeling is compounded by the apparent bitterness and anger that seems to flow from our society.  Usually, it is rippling along just under the surface of things, but certain events…elections…natural disasters…horrifying events… can bring it out, and our nation begins to spew the spittle of bitterness at anyone who doesn’t see things just the way that they do.

Last evening, when as a nation we should have been holding one another and mourning with those who were so devastated in that small town in New England, we were instead fortifying our political views and firing missiles of personal perspective across the bows of our neighbors, friends, family, and anyone else who might dare take a different position than our own.

In times past, this tendency was not so obvious.  Today, with the advent of Facebook, Twitter, and other social media, we cannot escape…or, at the least it is difficult to escape…the viral bitterness that erupts during those times of national attention.  I have to limit my participation in social media during those times and I know I’m not the only one.  I noticed one friend who said she was going to disconnect from Facebook for the next several days because she couldn’t take the onslaught.

Can we not use some restraint?  Have we lost all sensitivity to one another?  Do we think that because we can’t see people’s faces, those harsh words hurt others any less than they would in person?

I lament that our nation seems to have lost all sense of personal honor.

We as a society need to reacquaint ourselves with some concepts:  respect, manners, self-sacrifice.  Perhaps more than all of those, we should reacquaint ourselves with what has come to be known as the Golden Rule:  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."  

There is a time and place for debate and discussion.  We need to hash through issues.  However, it is my view that to do so directly in the wake of so much personal devastation is disgraceful.

There.  I’ve said it.  I can now kick my melancholy to the curb.

Those are my thoughts for the day.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

A Muncie Boyhood-Dad and His Oily Boots

Me on the left, My dad, and my nephew David

My dad turned 50 years old about ten months after I was born.  I turned 50 years old almost a year ago.  It struck me a few months back that I’m at the same age that my dad was when I was born.  That is a strange feeling to have when you’re halfway to 100.  My memories of my dad when I was a boy in Muncie are good and I think of him often.

He worked a lot.  He had come to Muncie from the Lima, Ohio area after the end of World War II and I think he had two purposes.  First, he needed work, and Muncie was teeming with factories at the time.  (Time has sure changed that one.)  Second, I think he was looking for his long, lost father who had suddenly left him and his nine siblings alone with their mother when he was only ten.  He never found his dad, but he did find work…and a wife…and a family.  He secured a job at the Muncie Chevrolet plant, and he stayed there until his retirement in the mid-1970’s.

My earliest memories are of him “going to town” on Fridays to pay bills and do his banking.  He’d hop the bus that stopped in front of our south Hackley Street house, and ride it downtown where he’d go from building to building; depositing money, writing checks, and paying bills.  Soon, I’d be watching through our front door and see him step back off that bus and stroll up our front walk.  I would be so excited because he’d always bring me something…gum, a piece of candy…something.

Other times, he would walk me down to Heekin Park to play.  I’d walk some, but mostly I wanted to ride on his shoulders.  Years later, that seemed so weird to think I used to sit up there on those shoulders.  As an adult, I had grown so much bigger than him, I could probably have given him a ride on my own shoulders.  Anyway, he would walk me some…instructing me on the proper etiquette of stepping aside when other adults passed…or, he would carry me.  Soon, we were at the park and I’d be swinging, climbing on the old military cannons, or playing in the sand.

A few times, he walked me up to Burger Chef at 21st and Madison where he get me a burger.  He liked their fish sandwiches, and so…soon…so did I.

Fishing was another thing he occasionally took me to do.  He had a nice rod and reel.  I got to use the cane poles until I was a little bigger and got my own Zebco unit from Ross Hardware.  As fun as the Zebco was, I still liked those old cane poles.  I wish I still had them.  I can remember him teaching me how to clean the catfish and bluegill that we caught.  I think our last fishing trip was to Prairie Creek Reservoir, but the best spot was the one we went to the most, it was along some stream east of Muncie.  It seems like my dad called it “Sugar Creek,” but I wouldn’t swear to that in court.  I know the place had an old iron bridge and was way out in the middle of the country.  I want to say it was somewhere between the reservoir and the little town of Windsor.  One of these days, I’m going to go out there and explore until I find the spot.

When I got too big to carry on his shoulders and I had to start going to school, our excursions lessened.  Many of my middle memories are of us passing one another in the house.  When I was a small boy, dad worked 2nd shift, so he was often around in the mornings and early afternoons.  As I got older, he moved to “midnights” and he would be asleep in the afternoons when I got home from school.  I had to be as careful as I could to try and not wake him up.  Too often I failed, as my friends and I stormed around outside the windows, playing army or hide-n-seek.

I didn’t know much about his job except that it was in a factory.  I can remember a few times when mom would go pick him up from work at midnight and I’d ride along, but for much of my earliest years, we didn’t have a car and dad either walked all the way to work, or he grabbed a ride with a co-worker.  In 1968, he bought a brand-spanking new Chevy Nova….with no power nuthin’… that he mostly drove to work, but if mom kept it, she’d have to go pick him up.    

Anyway, he had his ritual for work.  He’d put on his work clothes, gather his lunch, and then sit down on the entryway steps just inside the back door to put on his work boots.  I can almost still smell those old, oily-leather, steel-toed things.  He always kept them just inside the backdoor.  When he went to work, he’d put them on.  When he came home, he’d sit in the same spot and take them off; replacing them with some weird leather-like slip on shoes.  It’s funny, as I think about those old work boots, I kind of miss them.  It’s strange how thinking about some random item can make you wax nostalgic. 
That's my dad, Ralph DeCamp, fourth face from the left.

That ritual shifted in time of day with his changes in work schedule, but remained a constant from my birth until his retirement around my 8th grade year.  Depending on how busy the shop was, from five to seven days per week, he’d put the boots on at the back door, and a few hours later slip them back off… almost every day.

Until one day he didn’t.

He didn’t make any big deal out of it.  No parties.  No plans.  He just suddenly stopped going to work.  I don't even think that he told us he was retiring until mom finally asked him why he wasn’t going in to work anymore.  Dad was like that.  Once, he went into the hospital for a few days to have foot surgery, but didn’t bother to tell my mom.  She didn’t know where he was until she finally called Ball Memorial Hospital and they said:  “Why, yes ma’am, we do have a Ralph DeCamp registered here.”

With dad’s retirement, life at home changed.  Dad was around a lot.  From then on, I have many memories of him sitting in his living room chair reading the paper or his Bible.  He’d work around the house or yard in the morning, and then read in the afternoon.  If he wasn’t reading, he was watching a baseball game or taking a nap.  And, as I grew, I became more and more fond of our chats…sometimes arguments…but mostly just discussions of religion, politics, or baseball….whatever.
Dad, his chair, and his newspaper.

I will close this story out with the memory that spawned this Muncie Boyhood installment.  Not long after he had retired from General Motors, two neighbor ladies were discussing my dad…as neighbor ladies everywhere are prone to do regarding neighbor men from time to time…and the conversation…dripping the phonetic twang that only current and former Muncie residents can fully appreciate…went something like this:

Lady # 1:  “Why, I think Ralph’s retarred!”

Lady # 2:  “Ralph retarred?!  He ain’t retarred!  Ralph’s one of the smartest men I know!”

Think about it.

And, yes, I agree.  He WAS one of the smartest men that I too have ever known.

A Visit with Gabe

Dear Readers,
I wrote the following story sometime in the early 2000's, and it is one of my earliest works.  I'd like to think that my technique has improved, and I'd probably have written it differently now, but I don't like to go back an change things.  It feels a little like re-writing history.  I hope you enjoy it.  Even though I'd probably do it differently now, I still like the story.  It was fun to have it unfold in my mind. 
Regards, Mike.
A Visit with Gabe
by Mike DeCamp
 
The old man wandered down Hackley Avenue oblivious to the stares of passing motorists.  His over-sized trousers were held up by suspenders and bunched up at his shoes.  His plaid flannel shirt was frayed at the collar, torn in several places, and rolled up to his bony elbows.  Salt and pepper whiskers sprouted on his chin, giving him that old-time grizzled look, and to top off the whole package, gray hair poked out from under his sweat-stained and misshapen Cincinnati Reds baseball cap.  He was obviously homeless, maybe even a drunk.  He was definitely out of place in this neighborhood.

Congerville Woods wasn’t an upscale development by any standard, but it was at least considered upper middle class.  The homes had a minimum of four bedrooms and two full baths.  The lawns were landscaped and manicured.  The oldest house was no more than two years old.  On Muncie’s south side, it was the place to live.

As the old man walked along, mumbling to the air, two teenagers passed by on a joy ride.  When they reached the end of the block, they swung around and pulled along side the old geezer.

“Who ya talkin’ to, old man?  Your ole buddy, Mister Whiskey?”

The homeless man ignored the taunting and kept moving down the sidewalk.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you!  I know....  You need a drink.  Don’tcha?”

The old guy kept quiet.

“Scott, pass me one of those beers.”

The boy took a longneck bottle of Budweiser and dangled it out the passenger window.

The man just kept on walking.

“Come on old dude.  You know you want it.”

No response.

“Okay, be that way,” the young man said, and he threw the bottle at the old man.

It whizzed past his left hand and smashed on the sidewalk in front of him.  The two boys raced off, tickled with themselves because of their amazing cleverness.  They’d had enough fun with this guy.  There were other fish to fry. Too much fun, too little time.

The old man watched them drive away.  There was no anger in his eyes.  There, also, was no hurt to be found.  He simply watched them go, and then plucked a plastic grocery bag from his back pocket and carefully picked up the broken pieces of glass.  When the last shard was retrieved, he continued his course as if on a mission.

Bryce was a sensitive, but athletic ten-year-old with a problem.  The chain had come loose on his bike, and he was focused on fixing it near where his driveway met the sidewalk.  When a shadow fell over him and stopped, he assumed it was his best buddy, Ronny.

Without looking up, he said: “Hey, Ronny, do you know how to get this chain back on this sprocket?”

“Well, son,” the old man said, “my name ain’t Ronny, but I think I can prob’ly help ya.”

Bryce was startled and jumped back.  He looked up into the face of an old guy with scruffy whiskers, wearing dirty clothes, and quickly backed away.  He wasn’t scared exactly, but mom and dad made it clear that he should be wary around strangers.

“Well, uh, okay,” Bryce replied.

As the old man bent down to work on the bike, the boy made a wide circle into his front lawn, keeping a good ten feet between him and his helper.  The man didn’t seem dangerous, but he looked dirty, and Bryce could smell the faint odor of beer.

“What’s your name young fella?” the old man asked as he tugged on the chain.

“I’m not supposed to tell strangers my name.”

“Well now, I s’pose that’s a good policy in these times.  My name is Gabe.”

“Nice to meetcha, Gabe,” the boy replied, being polite.

The chain popped into place, and Gabe stood up.

“Do you live around here, my young friend?”

“Wow, thanks.  How’d you do that?  Uh, yeah, I live right here.”  Bryce was so excited to have his bike repaired, that he almost missed the question.  He pointed at his family’s house.

“Is your mom or dad home, so’s I could meet ‘em?”

Bryce wasn’t suppose to let a conversation with a stranger get this far, and he knew it.  He couldn’t come out and answer that question, so he said he’d go check.  As he backed up to his front door, he looked at Gabe’s eyes and all of his fear melted away.  The old man’s eyes were deep, soothing, and there was just something in there that made him feel good.

The boy disappeared into the house, and after a few minutes, he returned with mom in tow.  Jen was thirty-five, a red head, and very nearly in perfect shape.  She’d worked very hard at it after Bryce had been born.  She wore a very modest, but attractive yellow sundress, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“That’s him, mom.  He’s the guy who fixed my bike.  His name is Gabe.”

Gabe was exactly where Bryce had left him.  He was standing there wiping the oil off his hands onto his flannel shirt, and looking at their house.

Jen stepped through the doorway and said: “Uh, hello mister…”

“Just call me Gabe, ma’am.”

“Hello, Gabe.  Thanks for fixin’ Bryce’s bike.”

“Oh, it was nothin’.   I’ve fixed bike chains hun’erds o’ times.”

“Bryce told me you wanted to see me.  Did you want me to pay ya somethin’?”

“Oh, heavens no.  I just wanted to meetcha to make sure the nice young fella didn’t get in no trouble fer lettin’ me help him.”

“Well, he’s in no trouble.  Is there anything I can do for ya?”

“If’n it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I could use a nice glass of ice water.”

Jen stared at the old man for a few seconds, and her heart went out to him.  She was the source of Bryce’s sensitivity.  She was highly emotional and empathetic.  Sometimes it seemed that she could feel the pain of others better than she could feel her own.  She was feeling Gabe’s pain, and she determined to help him out.

“Okay, Gabe.  Come on in out of the hot sun, and I’ll get you a nice big glass of water.”

“You sure, Ma’am?”

“Yeah, come on in and I’ll fix ya right up.”

Gabe followed Jen through the door, and she led him past their comfortable living room and into the kitchen.  She motioned for him to sit at the table, so he pulled out a chair and sat, as she opened the cupboard to retrieve a glass.

“Ma’am…”

“Call me Jen.”

“Uh, Jen, do you have a place where I could throw away this broken glass?  Some boys broke it on the sidewalk down the block, and I picked it up.”

“Sure,” Jen replied and she took the plastic bag full of broken beer bottle, walked to the garage door, and plopped it in the waste can.

As she filled the glass with cold water from a jug in the refrigerator, she decided to make some small talk.  She wanted to find out more about this strange old man in her kitchen.  She knew she should be a little uneasy about having a stranger in the house while her husband, Tom, was out, but somehow, she felt completely safe.  She didn’t sense any danger. More than that, she sensed a security. 

“So, Gabe, where ya from?”

“Oh, I’m from the City of Angels,” was Gabe’s reply.

Los Angeles, huh?  How’d ya get from LA to my neighborhood here in Muncie, Indiana?”

“I just travel all over the place, fixin’ things.”

“Must be an interesting life.”

“It does have its moments, Ma’am.”

“So, were you lookin’ for somethin’ to fix when you wandered down our street?”

“I’m always lookin’ for somethin’ useful to do, but it looked nice down here, so I walked on in.”

Jen decided to go a bit further than just a glass of water.  He obviously needed some help, and she was determined to give it.  Tom would be uncomfortable with it, but he’d just have to get over it.  She felt for this old man who was poor, hungry, and all alone in the world.  She pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

“Gabe,” she started, “I don’t have anything to fix around the house, but I would like to help ya.”

“Ma’am…”

“Jen.”

“Sorry. Jen, I don’t really need anything.”

“Well, I don’t mean you no offense, but I’ve got to disagree.  Your clothes are a mess, and I bet you wouldn’t mind a hot shower.”

A huge smile filled Gabe’s face and he looked like he was about to jump out of his skin with excitement.  “Oh, a shower would be so nice.  Are you sure it’d be okay?”

“Oh, sure and I bet my husband, Tom, has some old clothes that would fit ya.”

“Jen, please don’t put yourself out so much for my old bones.”

“It’s no big deal.  Come on.  I’ll get ya set up in the bathroom, pull some clean clothes out for ya, and when you’re all done, you can have dinner with us, too.”

“I don’t know how to thank ya, or what to say.”

“Just be good company, and tell us some interesting stories at dinner.  That’d be thanks enough.”

Jen went to work and pulled together all the things he would need:  clean clothes, soap, shampoo, spray deodorant, shaving cream, and a disposable razor.  She showed him how the fixtures worked, gave him a clean towel, and left him alone to transform himself.

With Gabe in the shower, she busied herself with dinner preparations.  The menu was the classic fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and yeast rolls.  They would follow that up with some strawberry cheesecake.  She’d have to run an extra mile tomorrow, but it would be worth it.

She nearly had the chicken cut and cleaned when Tom walked in from the garage.

“Hey Honey, how’d ya hit ‘em today?” Jen asked.

Tom had spent most of the day on the golf course chasing a little white ball through sand traps, trees, and into small bodies of water.  He wasn’t very proficient, but he had fun and he was getting better.

He kissed his wife on the cheek and said: “Oh, pretty doggone good today.  I broke a hundred!”  He was smiling from ear to ear.  “It’s days like today that make ya wanna go back.”

“Was that the first time?”

“Naw, I’ve done it a couple of other times, but this is now two times in a row.”

“That’s great, Tom.”

“I saw Bryce outside,” Tom said, “Who’s in the shower?”

“Well, Tom, don’t be upset.  Okay?  It’s an older gentleman that helped Bryce fix his bike.  I think he’s homeless and I…”

“Aw, Jen.  How many times have I told you not to do this kinda thing?”

“He’s okay, Tom.  I’m sure of it.”

“How, Jen?  Just how can you be sure of it?  How do you know he’s not some psychopath?  How do you know he’s not in there right now planning something crazy to do to us? Ya know, most of those homeless guys were in mental wards until the budget cuts in the eighties.”

“He’s not crazy.  Just wait til ya meet him.  You’ll see.”

“Don’t do this anymore, Jen.  It’s dangerous.  You just never know about these guys.  You’re gonna get yourself or Bryce killed.  Please don’t do it again.  Okay?”

“Okay, okay.  I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again unless you’re home.  But, I just know you’re gonna like him. He’s just stayin’ through dinner and then he’ll be gone.  Please try to be nice.”

“Fine, but I’m gonna be watchin’ him close.  If he even acts a little off, I sendin’ him outta here.  You understand?”

Jen nodded.

Tom pulled off his white golf cap and pushed his dark hair back off his forehead.  Then he headed off to their bedroom to change his shoes and clothes.  He really wanted a shower, but that would have to wait.  He had to be keep an eye on this semi-welcome guest.

It wasn’t that Tom lacked compassion.  He had plenty of compassion, so long as the person needing it looked like they didn’t.  In his mind, poor people needed to get a job, and homeless people had made their own bed and now, they needed to lay in it.

The truth was that people that were different made him nervous.  Diversity scared him.  He liked to work with and live around other white, middle-class, clean-cut and shaven, English-speaking, moderately religious, Midwestern people.  If they met his visual expectations, then they must be okay.  If they had on dirty clothes, spoke broken English or another language, lacked a home, or had a different skin color, they set off alarms in his brain.  All he could see was the evening news with him or his family as the victim.

This man in his bathroom had problems.  He didn’t know what they were and he didn’t want to, but the man was in his house.  That meant that whatever the problems were, his family was going to be subjected to them.  They could be anything.  He could be a drunk or a drug-abuser.  He could be a criminal, running from the law.  He could even be a murderous, sexual psycho with designs on Tom’s family.  Whether the problems were big or small, Tom didn’t want them in his house, not now, not ever.

After nearly an hour cleaning himself up, Gabe emerged from the bathroom a changed man.  He wore one of Tom’s older, blue golf shirts and a slightly faded pair of bluejeans.  They seemed to fit perfectly.  His hair was clean and neatly parted and combed to the side.  His whiskers were gone, and a couple of small pieces of toilet paper stuck to his face where he had nicked himself with the razor.  He still looked bony, but at least he smelled better.

Dinner was ready and Bryce had set the table.  Jen called Tom in and quickly introduced him to Gabe, but not much was said until they had taken their seats at the table.  Of course, Tom took the head of the table, with Jen on his right and Bryce on his left.  Gabe sat at the other end.

Not being a religious family, they simply dipped up and began to eat, but Gabe quietly bowed his head.  Then Bryce spoke up:  “We should pray before we eat, too.”

“What?” Tom asked.

“I saw Gabe prayin’, and I think we should say Grace, too.  I been learnin’ at church ‘bout prayin’ an stuff, and I think we should do it, too.”

Bryce had been going to church with some neighbors, but Tom and Jen just couldn’t get themselves up that early on Sundays.  (Of course, Tom could if he had a tee time.)

“Well, go ahead and pray if you want, Bryce,” Tom said.

After Bryce had asked a blessing on their meal, Tom struck up a conversation with his houseguest.

“So, Mister…uh…”

“Just call me Gabe.”

“Okay.  Gabe, where you from?” Tom asked.

“I’m from the City of Angels,” Gabe replied.

Los Angeles is a big place.  What kinda work did ya do there?”

“Same thing I’m doin’ now.  I go around and fix things.”

“Is that what your father did?”

“Oh, no.  Not really.  He’s in the manufacturing end of things.”

“What’s he make?”

“All kinds of things.”

The conversation continued like this for some time.  Tom would ask a question, and Gabe would reply with a vague answer.  Every exchange left Tom less satisfied than the one before.  He was becoming more and more certain that this homeless, old guy called Gabe was up to something.

Before Tom could think of another question, Gabe turned the tables and asked his own question:  “Where do you folks go to church?”

“Well,” Jen replied with some embarrassment, “we don’t.  Bryce goes with a neighbor.  We’ve been meanin’ to, but we always seem to have a reason not to.  We encourage Bryce to go, though.”

“Yeah,” Bryce broke into the conversation, “and I been learnin’ all kinds a stuff.  I’ve learned ‘bout God, an Jesus, and angels, an…”

“We think it’s good for his social growth,” Tom interrupted.

“Oh, it’s good for more than that,” Gabe said.  “It will change his life.  It will instill morals and ethics.  It will give him faith, and most importantly, he can know the Almighty One.”

Tom was offended, and a little embarrassed by Gabe’s opinion.  He believed in God, but only on his own terms.  Organized religion was hypocritical and demanding.  It seemed to him that the best way to know God was to get away from people and enjoy nature (like on the golf course).

“Mr. Gabe,” Bryce jumped back in, “did you know that the bible says that angels sometime visit people and they don’t even know it?”

“Oh, sure, Bryce.  I’ve read that myself.”

“You don’t believe all that Bible stuff, do ya?” Tom asked.

“Sure, I do.”

“Yeah, right, and the next thing you’ll tell me is that you’re Jesus Christ himself.  All you people think that kinda crazy stuff.”

“Tom!” Jen objected.

“Well, they do.  They drink too much or take one too many drugs and the next thing you know, they’re saying they’re God or Jesus, or they talk directly to Him, or somethin’ like that.”

“Tom!  He’s our guest!”

“Okay, okay.  I’m sorry, Gabe.”

Tom wasn’t really sorry, but Gabe wasn’t really offended.  He had expected the outburst from Tom.  He’d seen it plenty of times before, in plenty of different places.  Folks just make assumptions about other people based on their own skewed vision of the world, their own warped perception.

“No offense taken, Tom”

Before they could lapse back into their question and answer session, there was a knock at the door, and Tom rose to answer it.  It had gotten dark outside and as he peeked through the window, he couldn’t quite see who was there.  He flipped the switch for the porch light.  Nothing.  It must be burned out, he thought.

He could see their outline.  They were two young men, maybe teenagers.  Their hair wasn’t long, and they were white.  He could make that much out, so he opened the door.   The light from inside illuminated the first boy from the shoulders down, and the clothes were neat, clean, and from designer labels.

“I’m sorry to bother you, mister,” the first one said, “but our car broke down.  Could we use your phone?”

They looked like good-natured boys from the area, so he let them in.  As they entered, the boy in back dropped a light bulb, which smashed on the concrete stoop.  Simultaneously, the first boy drew a gun and pushed Tom backward into his living room.

The moments that followed were terrifying to Tom and the others.  The intruders forced everyone into the living room.  They both had pistols and were waving them around, threatening to shoot anyone who moved.  They were jumpy and unsure of what to do next.  That made them even more dangerous.

The boy who had entered first was the leader, so he took charge, instructing them all to sit down.  He wore a baseball cap, Nike T-shirt, and designer jeans.  He reeked of beer, now that he was enclosed in the house, and was obviously drunk.

The other boy was dressed similarly, but was much more passive.  He looked continually to his partner for direction.  He was drunk too, and wouldn’t stop giggling.

“Which one o’ you’s the big, bad papa?” the leader asked.  “Who’s the man of the house?”

“I am,” Tom replied in a quiet voice.

“What?  Wha’d ya say?  Speak up, dude!”

“I said, ‘I am’” This time Tom raised his voice.

“Well, ya don’t have ta yell at me.”  The invaders broke out into loud chuckles.

“Okay, big daddy.  You’re gonna show me around, while my buddy here keeps an eye on the others.  I want all your good stuff.  Ya hear?  Don’t hold back on me, or somebody’s gonna get hurt.  Okay?”

Then he spoke to his partner: “Anybody moves, blow ‘em away.”

Tom and the leader moved off into the house, and you could hear the drawers being pulled from the dressers, and the clothes being ripped from the closets.  Boxes were being dumped onto floors, and covers pulled loose from beds in the frantic search for valuables.

Meanwhile, the other bandit stood over them with his gun in his shaky right hand.  He was nervous and scared, but he was also drunk, and that made it all possible.

“Scott,” he heard this softly, like someone had whispered into his ear.

“Who said that?” Scott demanded, but no one moved or confessed.

“Scott,” the voice in his head continued, “What are you doing?”

“Shut up!  Which one of you said that?”

They looked at him in ignorance.

“Scott, this is wrong.  Don’t do this, Scott.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Why did you let him talk you into this, Scott?  You know you don’t want to do this.”

It was true.  Scott didn’t want to do it, but the beer had run out and so had the money.  Ricky had talked him into it.  Ricky could talk him into anything.  Ricky was his idol.

“Scott, just walk out and get help.  It’s not too late,” the voice persisted.

“I can’t,” Scott replied, shaking his head as if to clear his mind.  “Ricky would be mad.”

“Do what’s right, Scott.”

“I can’t.  I can’t.  I CAN’T!”  He screamed.

Tom reentered the room with Ricky behind him carrying a pillowcase full of the family’s treasures.

“What’re you yellin’ about?” Ricky asked.

“Someone’s talkin’ to me, Ricky.”

“Shut up, stupid!  You just told ‘em my name, dipwad.”

“Oh, man.” Scott moaned.

“Look,” Ricky said to Scott, “Me and the little lady here are gonna go back and do another search of the bedroom, if ya know what I mean, and when I get back, you can go search with her.  Okay?”

“No!” Tom objected.  “Please don’t.  You’ve got our stuff.  Please just leave, okay?”

“Oh, but there’s some more stuff I want.  You watch ‘em, partner, and we’ll be back in a few.”

Gabe stood up and stepped between Ricky and Jen.

“This has gone far enough,” Gabe announced.

“Shut up, ya old idiot, and sit down.”

“I will not shut up, and I will not sit down!  Furthermore, you will stop what you are doing or you will feel my wrath!”  Gabe’s voice had risen to a near deafening volume.

Tom and Jen were dumbfounded.  They couldn’t believe their eyes or ears.  This old man would get shot if he didn’t shut up, but he just stood there like a dog guarding his master.  Bryce, on the other hand, had that smile on his face that tells people that he knows something that they don’t.

Tom tugged on Gabe’s shirt.  “Sit down, Gabe, before they hurt you.”

“Yeah, old man, sit down before I blow you away!” Ricky warned, as he pointed his weapon at Gabe’s chest.”

“Oh, Ricky,” Gabe said, “You don’t have the power you think you have.”

Scott had retreated to the other side of the room in a daze.

“You are a foolish old dude.  You say another word and you’re dead.”

Gabe raised his arms out to his sides.  “You are the foolish one.”

Three shots rang out as Ricky fired point blank into Gabe’s chest.  THUD!  THUD!  THUD!  Each round hit its target.

As the third bullet struck his chest, Gabe swung his right hand around and connected with Ricky’s head.  The blow knocked the young man across the room and high against the far wall.  His head bounced off the ceiling and he slid quickly down to the floor, unconscious.  Scott fainted into an armchair.

Tom and Jen leapt to their feet!  Bryce cheered.

“Oh, my God!  Are you alright?” Jen yelled.  She didn’t know what else to say.  Tom couldn’t say anything.

“I’m fine,” Gabe replied.  He turned to them and held out his closed hand.  “You should call the police now.”

“But, he just shot you in the chest.” Jen insisted.

“I’m fine.  Call the police now.  I’ll be leaving, but they won’t give you anymore trouble.”

Jen noticed his outstretched hand.  “What?”

“Take these,” Gabe said, “and remember.  There is one for each of you.”

Jen reached forward, and Gabe dropped three slugs into her palm.  He then pointed at a pillow on their sofa.  It had three smoking holes.

“But, I saw…” Jen started.

“Yes, you did.  But, how would you explain it?”

Gabe ruffled Bryce’s hair, gave Jen a gentle hug, and then turned to Tom.  “Tom, I would suggest that you take your family to church on Sunday.  Maybe that ‘Bible stuff’ will mean more to you now.”

Without another word, Gabriel stepped into the cool, night air and returned to the City of Angels.  Mission accomplished.