J.D., Jay Darryl, and I became pen pals somewhere around the year 2013, eleven years ago now. He was the stepson of Mr. B., a man I did caretaking for, or some of you may remember I called him Mr. Zee in my letter blogs to protect his identity. I started sending him my letter blogs as a favor to Mr. B. “I think he’d like them,” he said. “I’ll even pay you.” He gave me stamps from time to time.
J.D. was in prison.
When I questioned Mr. B, (who’s been walking on the other side a good many years now) when I asked him why J.D. was in prison he said, “Drugs.”
I guess the truth was too hard for him to admit.
J.D. was in prison for sex with a minor, a crime I know he deeply regretted, and blamed his drug addiction for his lack of good judgement.
I don’t know the particulars of his crime. But this I do know. There are plenty of men walking around out there today who could’ve been in J.D.’s shoes. Plenty of men who, in their testosterone-fueled maleness, fell to the wily ways of street-smart fourteen- fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls. Plenty of good men who were not child predators and went on live their lives as law-abiding upright citizens. Technically, though, they committed a crime.
And it’s not just men. I even know a woman who had relations with a young man, a minor, and was not punished.
Like I said, I don’t know the circumstances around J.D.’s crime and it doesn’t matter. He was paying his debt to society.
J.D. enjoyed my letters, escaping from his hell — er, cell — once a week and stepping into my life. And he would write me back. He often lamented that he didn’t have happy stuff to write about. He’d tell me about his job as a computer guru, about the ingenious meals he created with the meager offerings of the prison canteen, and he’d comment on my letters. Sometimes he’d share happy memories from his childhood when my letters sparked one.
I knew J.D. wasn’t doing well. In his last letter he told me about his inability to walk more than a few yards before he’d have to stop and catch his breath. His health, and his will to live, had been declining for some time now.
I got a call from Annie. She’s Mr. B.’s sister-in-law and so close in age to J.D. that he considered her more of a sister than an aunt. I haven’t heard from Annie since Mr. B. died, so I suspected the news before she gave it to me.
“Jay died this morning,” she told me. “He had pneumonia and they discovered he had advanced lung cancer.”
He was 73.
I’ll miss him.
On a happier note, Mike took me to yard sales in the little town of Laceyville. The whole street had gotten together to have their sales on the same weekend. How nice it was to hit a half-dozen sales all on the same street.
I took road pictures.
The old Laceyville school.
Mike talked with the ladies at this yard sale about the barn across the road.
“We were trying to save it. We had the old metal roof taken off and shingles put on,” she told Mike. “Two weeks later the walls pushed out and it fell down!”
Mike picked up a cool wooden toolbox for a few dollars and a couple of tubes of toothpaste. The specialty brands can be as much as eight dollars a tube and this lady had lots of brand-new products for just a dollar.
I picked up some craft supplies, like glitter — don’t ask. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it but it was only fifty cents for a big bag and I’ll have it if I ever need it — and hearts to hang in the window. A cute pitcher, small milk jug, and a metal-base light cover were in a free box. The pitcher is chipped but it has delicate blue flowers painted on it and no stamp on the bottom. I’m thinking someone made it and I couldn’t stand the thought that it was unwanted. Even if it wasn’t handmade, I’m sure I can find something creative to do with it, some way to give it a new life.
But the best find of all? I’d never in a million years guessed that I’d’ve found these.
In the free box were six jars filled with the molded plastic pieces that go in ceramic Christmas trees!
My beautiful cousin Rosemary made the tree and I inherited it from her sister Lorraine when she moved to Panama. It was missing some of its little bulbs and I hadn’t gotten around to looking for replacements. I was tickled pink to find jars full of flowers, butterflies, bows, bulbs, and balls in two sizes! And did I tell you they were free‽
At another sale I made another great find, only I didn’t know it until I’d gotten home.
I was looking half-heartedly though a tub marked craft supplies. It had a bunch of loose stuffing mixed all around with pieces of felt and it looked like junk, to be quite honest, and I wasn’t all that interested in it.
“The whole tub for a dollar!” the lady said to me.
What the heck, I thought. The tub and lid alone are worth a dollar.
Sorting it out, I found twenty-nine whole, or mostly whole, pieces of felt. I use felt for the bottom of my book boxes. There was a mini glue gun, needles, thread, bobbins, googly eyes, paint brushes, and projects started. I threw the projects away along with a bag full of felt scraps because I don’t think I’ll ever use them. There were a few stuffed dolls that I tossed to Raini and Bondi to tear apart. Then I had that mess to clean up. Now I’ve got a grocery sack full of polyfill, I think that’s what it’s called, to send to my best old friend in West Virginia. Trish will use it in projects she makes.
I’ve been waiting for the appearance of these little guys. This is a Clearwing Hummingbird Moth, or humbee, as Momma called them.
A Tiger Swallowtail stopped for a sip while I watched the humbees.
“What else is blooming this week?” you ask.
I’m so glad you asked!
This one Momma called Hardhack. It’s a kind of Spirea.
The whips of Virgina Jumpseed.
The flowers are so tiny!
I remember the first time I noticed one of these trees with big orange flowers on them. Only, they’re really not big orange flowers. They’re bunches of seed pods. This is an invasive tree called Tree of Heaven.
Teasel is blooming. I see more white ones than I do the lavender variety.
This is Butter and Eggs, also called Common Toadflax.
This next one is Bouncing Bet, or maybe better called by its other name, Soapwort. It’ll create a soapy lather when mixed with water. Historically, it was used for cleaning purposes, including washing clothes and even as a gentle soap for the skin.
This is Salsify or another name is Goatsbeard. It has edible roots, which are said to taste somewhat like oysters. It doesn’t get flowers until its second year.
Morning Glory.
This is Chicory but it’s known by a host of other names as well. Blue Daisy, Blue Sailors, Bunk, Horseweed, Ragged Sailors, Wild Bachelor's Buttons, and Wild Endive.
Chicory roots can be roasted as a coffee substitute or additive, this is especially popular in New Orleans. The leaves and flowers can be used in salads, and the leaves can also be cooked as a vegetable.
Chicory root contains inulin, a prebiotic fiber that supports gut health by promoting the growth of beneficial bacteria. The inulin in chicory can help regulate blood sugar levels, making it beneficial for people with diabetes.
Chicory has been found to have immune-stimulating properties, can help reduce skin inflammation and is sometimes used in skincare products.
Besides wildflowers, I got photos of a couple of moths. This is the Orange Collared Scape Moth.
This next one is a new one for me. It’s not a very big moth and he wouldn’t let me get any closer. This is the best shot of him I got. This is an Orange Mint Moth.
And a spider hiding in the leaves. Ain’t he purdy‽
My Bluebird bringing something back for her babies. I’ve never had a Bluebird nest in my boxes before. And this was after the Swallow raised her brood in the same box.
Check this out. I was at a stop sign and this guy pops up over the hill and went putzing down a well-traveled road on his little scooter. I don’t know how fast he could go but I bet it’s nowhere near as fast as a car. I turned in the opposite direction and as soon as I started down the hill, I passed a semi going up. In my mind’s eye I could see him cresting the hill and slamming on his brakes so he didn’t hit this guy. I flashed my lights at the semi and saw him slow.
That was my last photo for this week, but I’ve got a couple of more stories I could tell you.
“Tell us!” you say.
Okay, okay! If you insist.
Mike tickled me this Sunday morning. He was dressed and ready for church while I was in the bathroom getting ready. I heard the front door and the dogs took off barking their fool heads off. Like they couldn’t see it was just their daddy going outside! Sheesh. When Mike came back in, he came into the bathroom where I stood at the mirror.
“Did you make the dogs bark?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“What did you do?” I wanted to know.
“I went out to get Big Red,” he said.
“We’re taking the truck to church this morning?” Nothing like stating the obvious, right!
“Yep. Now when I die, if Kevin (our son) doesn’t want it, you can say he only drove it to church on Sundays.”
Made me laugh.
We had an incident in my family that set off our Family Check Alarm. We are all so scattered across this beautiful country, that we have to rely on other people to check on our loved ones should something unfortunate happen. We all shared phone numbers of neighbors or friends who could get into our houses if we should fail to respond to text messages or phone calls for an extended amount of time.
Mid-afternoon I got a call from my handsome brother David. “I’m worried about Patti,” he said of our oldest and much-adored sister. “She didn’t respond to the morning love note and she’s not answering her phone. It’s going right to voicemail. Do you think we should call her emergency number?”
“I don’t know. Do you have the number?”
“No. Well, someplace, but I don’t know where,” David answered.
“I don’t know where mine is either,” I confessed. I was taking my recyclables to the storage bins in the wayback when he called. I know that sometimes things happen with computers and I might’ve gotten a note from her while his got lost out in cyberspace. “Let me check my computer first,” I said and made my way to my comptuer. “Nope. You’re right. She didn’t send a morning love note. Let me try to call her and I’ll get back with you.”
“All right,” David said.
Patti answered my call. “Are you okay? You didn’t send a morning love note and David’s worried about you, which caused me to worry.”
“I’m fine,” Patti answered and I could hear the hubbub of voices and dishes in the background. She went on to explain, “I’m out with my friend Lori. We left for an early breakfast and we’re still gabbing because we haven’t seen each other in a while and have lots to catch up on. I saw Dave’s call and thought I'll get back to him after we’re done visiting, completely forgetting that I hadn't sent out a morning note. Then when you called, I told Lori I had to get this because I realized something must be wrong. I never have two siblings trying to call me like that.”
We had a good laugh and I let David know she was fine and would call him later.
“I was worried because remember not long ago she fell off the ladder and broke her leg?” he asked.
I did remember. Patti didn’t have her cell phone with her and had to drag herself back into the house to call EMS.
Anything can happen to anyone at anytime and the thought of losing any more of my siblings brings tears to my eyes. I can’t tell you how unique and special each and every one of them are to me.
Later in the day, Patti sent out her note. She apologized for scaring us and went on to say, “Thank you so much for watching out for me, now I know youse really do love me. And now we know our little check system is working.”
Our system only works if we remember where we put the emergency contact numbers. Patti re-sent me hers along with the suggestion to store them in the notes section of contact information on email. What a great idea and that’s exactly what I did, and I bet David did, too.
I had a little time to kill between working on book boxes and recliner time. I went poking around in my computer trying to lay hold of where I stored those family emergency numbers. I didn’t find them. I did find a bunch of other stuff I’d forgotten about. Letters and pictures from my daughter Kat that I forwarded on to her daughter Jessica.
“I knew some of those stories, but I’d forgotten about them,” she said.
I found a couple of stories my beautiful sister wrote when she was a young teenager.
“Where did you get them‽” Phyllis called and asked.
“I stole them from you,” I admitted. I was a kid. I loved her stories and I think I have some vague recollection of trying to claim them as my own, but I don’t think I ever did that.
Fifteen or sixteen years ago, I found the originals, typed them out and sent them to either my mom or Phyllis, although Phyllis doesn’t remember me doing that.
“I remember writing the one, but not the other one,” she said.
Something else I found was a story I wrote in early 2014. When I first started posting my letters to an online blog, I was erasing them after a month or so. I don’t why I did that either, so don’t ask. But this particular story I didn’t post. I only sent it to family, as the letter itself explains. And I’d forgotten all about this.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
First and foremost, I hope this letter finds you happy and healthy. If you can’t be happy, be healthy, and if you can’t be healthy....be happy!
Attitude. That’s what it’s all about.... know what I mean?
My current desktop.... yeah. I have had at least ten different desktop photos this past week and I’d love to show them all to you, but I’ll show you just three of them.
A bee on crimson clover was one of them and so was the two daisies after a rain. But the one I have up there RIGHT now is this bouquet of green things with white blossoms. I’m not 100% sure, but I think the blossoms are a blackberry or a raspberry maybe since they blossom first. I can’t even tell you why I like the photo, just that I do.
Last night on the phone, I told Momma (my name for my mother) that it has been a pretty quiet week and I didn’t have anything to write about.
“You could tell your God story,” she said. “That was a pretty good story.”
In order to tell you my God story, I have to tell you how it came about and to do that I am going to have to write some pretty mean things. I don’t want to write down those mean things although I said them out loud to Mike, Kandyce, and Kevin.
“Why don’t you want to tell us?” I hear you ask.
Once written (and sent) the words can never be taken back. These words could potentially hurt someone’s business and I don’t want to do that.
“What are you going to do?” I hear you ask. “Not tell us your God story?”
Well, I’ve been mulling it over and it seems to me that I have several options. I could not tell you the story, as you’ve already suggested. I could tell you the story and leave out the mean part-but somehow that doesn’t seem honest. I could tell you part of the mean stuff and not go into details, or I could tell you the truth...the whole truth and nothing but the truth...and not make it public.
I hear you laughing at me. “Peg, if you write it down and send it-it’s PUBLIC!”
I do understand that. But if I just send it on the email and not post it to my blog then it’s not as public. Most of you are not locals and would never frequent this business anyway.
Sigh.
Decision made...here goes.
I worked in the ice cream store for three summers although I didn’t work there last summer at all. Last week Ed, the owner, asked if I would work so he could go to Florida and see his wife Barb for a few days. The story we were originally told was that Barb was suffering so bad from allergies that it was making her physically very ill, that she had to go to Florida.
“That makes no sense!” Mike said to me more than once. “They have just as much -if not more! -pollen in Florida as we have here!”
We have since found out that they bought an ice cream store on the beach in Florida, so she is running that one while he runs this one.
Ed asked me to work Tuesday and Wednesday from 1 until 8. He said whatever I wanted to do was fine, but he hated to have the store closed for two days right at the start of the season. I said I’d talk to Mike and let him know. I did and Mike didn’t have any objections, so I agreed.
My arch nemesis, Amanda covered Monday.
“Arch nemesis?” you question.
Another story for another day.
“I only had ten customers all day!” Amanda complained to Mike when he stopped in to chat with her.
Tuesday, I got to work, unlocked the doors, turned on the lights and open signs, stood with my hands on my hips and looked around.
Hmmm, doesn’t look too bad, I thought to myself, pleasantly surprised, then I went behind the counter.
OMG! (Oh My Goodness!)
Guys, it was so dirty that it went beyond dirty. It was filthy! Ice cream dripped on and down the front of every surface! Even the cash register was smeared with ice cream!
“Why didn’t Amanda wipe down the cash register? She had to have seen it.” you say. I know, right! I wondered that myself and I don’t know the answer.
I had been working for a couple of hours when Kevin stopped to pick up some things that I had for him.
“Look at that!” I said to Kevin when he came in. “Would you want to drink water from that?” And I indicated the customer self-serve water machine.
He looked at it...and shook his head. “No,” was all he said and I continued to mop the floor.
“This place was so dirty that I almost turned around and walked out,” I told Kevin and that’s the truth. I did think about walking out and locking the doors behind me.
“What stopped you?” you may be wondering.
What stopped me was something I heard on the Christian radio station that I listen to. “Do every job as if you are doing it for God.” I’ll spare you the rest of the message but I truly took the words to heart. At the time that I heard it, I was painting the side of our building. I was doing a good job up until then, at least it was good enough, but after that, every time I thought “It’s good enough,” the very next thought was, “Is it ‘good enough’ for God?” And it wasn’t. I could do better. So I did. And no one but me knows that I didn’t cut any corners or do any less than my absolute very best because it was a gift to God.
“When faced with a difficult job, do it for God,” was the message.
I was faced with a difficult and daunting job when I looked over that ice cream store. I didn’t know where to start!
The longest journey begins with one step.
I rolled up my sleeves and went to work. I started and I cleaned for two days-between customers that is. At first, I was embarrassed to even be serving customers and I wanted to apologize to every person who walked through that door, but I resisted the urge because I knew that most of what they could see didn’t look half-bad.
Now don’t get me wrong. There were many joys in those two days too. Most of them walked in the door, but there was one right there in front of me.
“What’s that?” you ask.
Life. More specifically, new life. And it was literally right outside the window. There had been a fan or a vent in the wall in the back room at one time and it had been taken out and the hole covered over with a piece of board. The resulting ledge formed on the outside made the perfect nursery for a bird. The babies were quiet until they spotted mom or dad coming back with food. Then they were loud! I had to smile every time I heard them. Food must be plentiful this year because every few minutes you could hear the cheeping of the babies. The squeakiest wheel gets the grease, is sort of the rule in nature. The baby that cries the loudest gets fed first and if there is any left over the others get fed. So, each baby was trying to outdo the others.
They sounded healthy too.
It’s late in the afternoon. I’d gone outside to clean the three-inch-thick pollen from the tables and pick up the trash.
“You mean Amanda didn’t even wipe down the tables?”
I know, right!
Two vehicles pull in with the same logo on the side of both and a man gets out.
“Hi there!” I chirp merrily.
“Hi. Got any hotdogs?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t,” I answer.
“And it would take too long to make any?” he asks.
“I don’t think I have any in the store at all! The owners are just getting open and ready for the season,” I told him. Then inspiration struck. “You should eat right there,” I said pointing to another business here at Luby’s. “They have the best fish tacos EVER!”
He perked up! “Really?”
“Yes!” and I very adamantly described how these wonderful fish tacos are prepared.
“I’ve never had a fish taco,” he said.
“And my husband loves the pulled pork,” I added just in case he didn’t want to try a fish taco.
“Okay then,” he says and he walks two doors down to Wise Guys. I finished the job I was working on and went inside, but I kept an eye on what was going on outside.
At first only a couple of people got out of the vehicles. They were milling around and talking through the open windows to each other. One woman was dressed in a manner that reminded me of a religious group, but other than noting that, I didn’t think any more about it. After a while I see that there are bunch of them and the kids are running around having fun. They weren’t bothering anyone so I let them be while I continued cleaning.
Then, the next thing I notice is they are all sitting at a picnic table, holding hands with their heads bowed.
They are a religious group!
After a while I see food being brought to them. I waited a few minutes then I grabbed the glass cleaner and a rag and headed out to wash the glass doors.
“How is it?” I asked with a smile on my face.
“The kids got hot dogs and my fish tacos aren’t here yet,” he answered.
I turned to the kids. “How’s your hotdogs?”
Feet were swinging and hands were feeding hungry mouths. “GOOD!” they all agreed.
Just then two more baskets of food were being walked down.
“You should give her a commission or something, she’s the one who sent us to you.” Only a business minded person would think to say something like that.
John smiled and laughed a little. “We can probably work something out,” he said.
I left them to enjoy their dinner and went back inside.
Don’t you know that those nice people came in and had ice cream when they had finished their meal? I can’t even remember now if I asked him if he liked his fish taco or not! Isn’t that awful!
Late the next afternoon (or early evening) the same two vehicles pull into the parking lot and park in front of the ice cream store. Everyone piles out and comes into the store where they line up in front of the dippers. I greet them and we ascertain that all of the kids will have the same size ice cream and they could have it in a cup or a cone, whichever they preferred.
“Great!” I say. “Now, who knows what they want?” I say to the kids with a smile on my face and a sparkle in my eye.
“I do! I do!” I hear. I pick one, get their order and start scoopin’ ice cream. The leader comes in and comes to the front of the line and starts talking to me! Do you know how hard it is to hear when you have a whole bunch of machines running behind you, someone is trying to talk to you, and you have your head stuck in a dipper case?
“Why didn’t you stop and talk?” you wonder.
I can’t do that. I just can’t not work when there is work to be done. I felt it my first obligation to scoop ice cream. So, I kept on working. I didn’t catch everything he was telling me, but I think I got the most important parts.
“We stopped at two places looking for food before we got here last night,” he says to me. “The last place had just cleaned up for the night. When we got back in the cars, I asked everyone to bow their heads and we prayed. ‘Lord, I don’t know where to go from here, but if there’s someplace for us to get something to eat, speak loud and clear....’” or something like that. As I said, I don’t know exactly what he said because I continued scoopin’ as I was listen’.
“As we were driving this way, I remembered that we had gotten hot dogs here before so we pulled in and when you said we should eat there, it was loud and clear. I just wanted you to know that God works through you.”
I stopped cold. This man has no way to know that I pray every day for God to shine through my eyes, that His love fills my heart and overflows out my mouth. That everything I see and do and say be for His glory. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that,” I told him, and I went back to work.
God doesn’t always give us everything we ask for but He always gives us everything we need.
And that was the story.
I began with a story of man who went to stand before his Maker. Now, I end with my own God story.
Although I considered myself a Christian at the time, I wasn’t truly living a Christian life. It was only after the death of our daughter, Kat, that God finally got my full attention and I turned my whole life over to Him. I decided to live under His rules for this short time I have here on earth so I can spend eternity in heaven with Him. Eternity is a long time and hell is a bad, bad place — a place I don’t want to go.
You can choose to believe, or you can choose not to believe. As a Christian, I know the Bible says that very few will believe. I count myself as fortunate, as blessed, as a loved child of God. I’m thankful that He didn’t give up on me, even though I wish He’d’ve found a different way to do it.
Let’s call this one done!
Done!
