THE HEALING TREE (excerpt)

My name is Tomasina Catalina Whoopastanna Madelina Frogstails Pigsnails Robinson. I love shimmying up trees, playing horsey on knees, giving dolls a good squeeze. What I don’t like -- more than taking a bath, more than getting the sand scraped off me with a dry towel on the beach, more than fancy pants Mary Lou Catweiler who wears dresses and fingernail polish to school -- more than even that…

I don’t like to say good-bye.

Don’t like it. Won’t say it. Never will. And you can take that to the bank (like Grandpa Robinson says.) Mama says that on the other side of a good-bye is a hello. Daddy says the reason there’s good in good-bye is because there’s something good for you waiting just around the corner.

But as long as my name is Tomasina Catalina whoopastanna Madelina Frogstails Pigsnails Robinson, I won't say good-bye.

It’s moving day. Ever since they moved all the furniture out of the house I have been locked up in my room and I am never coming out. Nope. Not 'till I starve to death and they have to come and get me and put me under the healing tree to bring me back to life. After they promise me never to leave, I’ll take a deep breath and shimmy up that ole tree faster than a frog’s tongue can catch a fly -- faster than Miss Maizie from upthestreet flew out of sight when we showed her that little old garter snake.

You see, that healing tree in our front yard is the best shimmying tree this side of Dell’s candy store with the chocolate, silver-wrapped quarters. It healed my doll, Harietta Marietta Whoopastanna Carietta Elephants Nose Pig’s Toes Robinson, (you can call her Ellie) of the dread Tse Tse virus. It came from the African mosquitoes that flew over in my mom and dad’s garment bag last time they came back from far away. Ellie was just about to bite the dust when I put her under the healing tree and skipped around it seven times (that’s how old I am), covered her with seven healing tree leaves, and spit seven times on the sacred ground.

“Sssssss…shadola doolen. Menola noonan. Mencha kabentcha kadoo.” That’s special healing words for the Tse Tse virus only to be used in between full moons. If you use it on a full moon I cannot be responsible.

Then after Ellie was all better, I took her to Dell’s candy store to get chocolate quarters and watch the fat lady behind the counter turn red when Jim Boy Johnson from the crooked street with the haunted house, sticks his finger in the carrot cake icing.

So, here I sit in my room with the furniture moved out. Just me and Ellie. I am never coming out even if Megan Madison and Carolyn “Crybaby” Crosby and Matthew Dickinson Brown from upthestreet ask me out to play. Even if they’re gonna put Megan’s pet spider, Mr. Longlegs, on “Crybaby” and watch her run home to her mother. No, not even then.

And even though my stomach is screaming for some cheese French fries from Harrison’s Steak and Fries on the big street next to the bowling alley, Ellie and I would just as soon sit.

“Tomasina.” Uh oh. It’s my dad. I whisper to Ellie.

“As long as my name is Tomasina Catalina Whoopa…when I hear.

“Tomasina Felicia Ann Robinson. Open up this door.”

Why it’s Grandpa Robinson all the way from the big city that never sleeps, knocking on my door. I forget all about Ellie and about the healing tree and about even saying good-bye and run to the door to greet Grandpa.

I throw open the door. There stands Grandpa Robinson and mom and dad and “Crybaby” Crosby and Matthew Dickinson Brown and Megan Madison and Jim Boy Johnson and even Mary Lou Catweiler with orange fingernail polish.

Grandpa says, “Hello Tommy.”

“Hello Grandpa Robinson,” I say.

“Just came from the city that never sleeps to tell you that I’ll be coming to your new home with you 'till you get settled in…and you can take that to the bank.”

PARKER (excerpt)

There once was a dog named Parker. Parker was a good dog, but one day he got hit by a car and Parker died. At least that’s what everybody said.

So what does that mean? We don’t see Parker. We miss Parker. And Parker just one day up and died.

Mama Auset told Mama Love that only God decides about living and dying. But what does that mean? Why does He get to decide? And why did He pick Parker? Is it because Parker dug up the neighbor's rose bushes? Is that why? And if I do something bad, will God pick me, too?

Parker was a good dog and he died. Or some people say he “passed over”. Passed over to what? Where did he go after he breathed his last breath. Did he go to meet God in Heaven and if he did, what did God say? “Hey, Parker. Good dog. Welcome home. This is heaven and here you are happy all the time. You can fetch a ball if you like or not. Here you can eat ice cream, even chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, all day long and it’s all right. You can dig up rose bushes and nobody will say a word.” Did God tell Parker that? Everybody says Heaven is great, but nobody wants to leave earth to get there. But Parker did.

Mama Auset says that it’s a fact that nothing that God creates can be destroyed. Not ever. That everything has part of it that we see, and a part that is invisible. And the part that we can’t see lives always and forever in God’s Love. That’s what she says. But she admits that’s a very big idea because God’s Love is very big.

So, anyway, where did Parker go? If nothing is ever destroyed, and the invisible part of Parker still lives in God’s Love, what is it doing? And where is it?

MY GRAMPA IS TALL AS TREES

illustration by Auset (Marian Lewis)

a story for all ages

for Forrester Lee, my father

            My Grampa is tall as trees.Tough as tigers.  Big as bears.  

             Ever since we came to live with Grampa, and ever since Gramma took off her apron and went up to heaven, and ever since Mama started a cookie factory and brought home cookies almost as good as Gramma‘s, and ever since I learned to ride my tricycle all the way to the third house next to the prickly bush, Grampa and I have been together everyday.

            Grampa’s eyebrows are big as clouds, and his wink is quick as lightning.  Only I am fast enough to catch it. 

He always winks when Mama makes a fuss.  She tries to make him wear the new sweaters she buys him.  The ones without the holes.  Or make me wear dresses and ribbons in my hair.  I love mama more than biscuits and eggs with the juice running out.  But Grampa is tall as trees. 

In the morning I can smell cinnamon and coffee. The coffee is my mama.  Grampa smells like cinnamon.  I jump downstairs and try to rattle Grampa’s china in the china closet, race through the room where no children are allowed, run into the kitchen and hop on Grampa’s knee.  Without one word. 

And I sit and watch him read from the big black book.  I know he’s talkin’ to God.

I stay quiet as church mice.

 “In a minute, Sister,” says Grampa.

            I don’t have a brother or a sister, but Grampa calls me “sister.”  Then in a minute, as long as it takes for Mama to get ready for church, I count the number of nicks in Grampa’s cane.  And after as long as it takes for stone to turn to dust and back to stone again, Grampa clears his throat.  “Hrmmmph!” and says, “Mornin’, Sister.”

 

            And I say back, “Mornin’, Grampa.”  And without one word I put his two teaspoons of honey in his peppermint tea and he pours my orange juice and puts milk on my cereal.  And so the day begins.

            Sometimes we take long walks and talk to trees and try not to step on cracks.  Grampa tells me stories about the army ants that ate up a whole village of people.  Just mowed down everything in sight.  Millions of ‘em.  We sit under trees and wonder what they would say if they could talk.

            Grampa has two suits.  One is for Sunday.  The other he never wears.  He says he’s saving  it for when he goes up in heaven to see Gramma and have an important meeting with God.  In the meantime, he wears baggy overalls with lumpy pockets full of gum, his tobacco pouch, and a gold watch with a broken chain.  Mama always tries to get Grampa to fix the chain.  She fusses about my overalls which are brighter and stiffer than Grampa’s and tries to put ribbons in my hair.  I love Mama better than the honey apple raisin cakes from her bakery.

But Grampa is tall as trees.

            One night there was a big storm and all the lights went out.  It thundered and lightninged and something bigger than Grampa shook the earth.  Grampa said God was bigger than thunder and lightning, and some people thought that when it stormed, God was angry.  But Grampa said it was just his way of reminding us that He is still here.  Grampa says that God is old as dust, quicker than lightning, bigger than bears, and better than a bushel of honey apple raisin cakes WARMED WITH BUTTER.

            I think.  But Grampa is tall as trees.

            That night the big dogwood tree fell down in the front yard from the storm, and we didn’t have light for longer than a minute.

            Mama, Grampa and I lit candles and made shadow pictures on the wall and told ghost stories.  I was too happy to be afraid.  But I let God know I was thinking about Him.  I said a prayer.  I just told Him, “Thank you, Amen.”

            Then one day I woke up and didn’t smell the cinnamon or the coffee.  I ran downstairs and didn’t even try to rattle Gramma’s china in the china closet, raced through the room where no children are allowed, and went into the kitchen to jump on Grampa’s knee.

            But Grampa wasn’t there.

            Mama was in his chair holding the big black book and crying.  She told me that Grampa was ready to put on his suit and go up to heaven with Gramma to meet God.  She said we could see Grampa one more time and that he would be still as stone.  (That is stiller than even big people can be still and stiller than I can sit on Grampa’s knee after he says “In a minute.”)

            Then we both cried for a long time.  And we cried for many days after that when we’d think of Grampa and how we missed him.  But then Mama and I would smile and think of the thunderstorm and the animal shadows on the wall and Grampa’s sweater with the holes.

            Now I can ride my tricycle past the prickly bush all the way to Mr. Hammond’s house and watch him cut the hedges.  Mama’s going to get me a bicycle with training wheels.  And they finally came to carry away the old dogwood tree that fell in the storm.

            Now I talk to God even when there is no thunder to remind me.  I say, “Thank you, God, for Mama, and Grampa and Gramma, who are with you, and my new friend, Mr. Hammond, and my brand new bicycle with the training wheels.  Amen.”

            And if I’m still -- almost Godstill -- stiller than when I sat on Grampa’s knee after he said, “In a minute, Sister”, I can hear Grampa smile and say, “Good Mornin’, Sister.” 

And I say back, “Good mornin’, Grampa.”  And Grampa is tall as trees.

HEY, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE RAINBOW? (excerpt)

Jefferson Watson Rain and I discovered a rainbow that stretched over the horizon where the sun was shining bright as that big fat diamond ring on Auntie Lula’s finger. Mama said she was a show-off because she was always sticking it in people’s faces and bragging. Well, today the sun was showing off just like Auntie Lula. And to be extra showy, it brought a rainbow with it.

Yellow, orange, green, blue, purple, red. I counted the colors. Six. It was a lolapalooza of a rainbow. If you paid close attention you could see it winking at you just above Tadpole creek.

I said, “Hey, Rainy, you see that big fat ole rainbow?“ We called him Rainy because Rain was his last name. He said that he could make it pour down buckets whenever he got ready. Nobody believed him, but once he scrunched up his face real tight, said some magic words and made noises that weren’t really words at all. In a matter of minutes, it started to rain. We all ran home while he sat there getting drenched with his hands folded not saying a word. After that, we stopped calling him Shrimp because he was so small. We just said, “Hey, Rainy.” And he’d say back, “Hey Alex.” It went like that. My name is Alex Harrison Brown. It’s a very plain name and I don’t claim to have any special powers like Rainy. At least, not so far.

Anyway, Rainy said, “What rainbow?” I said, “That great big…hey, what happened to the rainbow?” Rainy said, “I got it here in my pocket and I’m going to give it to Aubrey Henderson Lee. She promised to give me a pack of worms for fishing if I brought her a quarter, but this is even better.

Rainy was kind of big-headed and a caramel color like the candies that stick to your teeth. He had a scar shaped like a smile on his forehead and teeth the size of walnuts. No one knows how he got the scar and he brags that he was born with it.

“Oh, give me a break,“ I said. “You don’t have the rainbow. You can’t just snatch a rainbow from the sky.”

“Yes I can,” said Rainy. “I just did.”

I started to say some real mean things to him for saying such a dumb thing, but then I thought of the day that he scrunched up his face and made it rain. Maybe. Hmmm. I thought. Just wait and see what happens.

So then I smiled and showed my two fat dimples stuck to my face. Only girls should have dimples and I hated it. But I am kind of a smoky color so the dimples don’t show as much as they would if my skin were lighter. Nonetheless, dimples are definitely not cool. I wore a bandana tied around my neck to take the attention away from the girliness of my face with the dimples and all. Kind of a cowboy flair, but only cooler. I didn’t think it worked, though.

So I said, “Okay, I know where Aubrey lives. Let’s go there and you can show me the rainbow when you give it to her.”

He didn’t even answer me and we started out for Aubrey’s house. When we got to her door and rang the bell, her mother popped out her head and said that Aubrey was busy on the computer. She warned us not to trample her roses that were flashing their colors with the kind of pride the Bible warns against. I just ignored them and made a mental note that you could never trust a rose, not with those thorns just waiting for you to let your guard down.

“Oh. Well, I’ll just email it to her,” said Rainy.

“Email what?” asked Mrs. Brown.

But Rainy just hopped off the stoop and headed home. I followed him, and neither of us spoke a word. We rode our bikes under a sky robin’s egg blue with a sun peeking behind a puff of a cloud streaked with fire. The edges of the town looked about to light up as twilight scattered amber jewels everywhere like it had money to spend. We got home fast.

When we got to Rainy’s room with the computer I said, “Okay, Rainy. Let me see what you got.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rainy.

“You know. Where is that lolapalooza of a rainbow that you say you snatched right from in front of my face.”

He was on the computer, his fingers clicking away. Before I knew it, he hit this button and murmured something under his breath that I didn’t understand.

“That’s it,” he said. “I just emailed the rainbow to Aubrey. I don’t have it anymore.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, I said. “I’m going home.”

I rode home with my shadow bunching around me making me hard to see. I knew I’d better get inside before my mama started looking for me. She always said she would skin me alive if I was late, but she never did. I’m not sure what that means, but once I saw a rabbit skinned and it didn’t survive.

It was Wednesday, pizza night, and I wasn’t going to miss it. I ate three slices with mushrooms and pepperoni and forgot all about Rainy. But right around 7:30 the sky got black and I thought, “Uh oh.“ I looked out the window and saw this crazy, crooked finger of lightning point to what looked like Rainy’s house the next block over. Kaboom! I didn’t jump because I’m not scary or anything but I began to wonder. What is Rainy up to? Down came the rain. Then the phone rang.

It was Rainy. “You see that rain?” he said.

“Oh, I suppose you just made it rain, huh? You never did show me that rainbow,” and I hung up. For some reason, I started wondering where did he get that scar on his forehead.

I couldn’t sleep that night for thinking about Rainy and his special powers. I admitted to myself that the only reason I hung around Rainy when other people treated him mean and made fun of his size, is because of the praying mantis. But that’s another story.

Really, it all started with Brownie, my older brother. His real name is Nicholas Owen Brown. My parents said that no one was allowed to nickname him “Nick“, because Nicholas was the sacred name of the saint that looks after children. Since he is older than I am, I guess they figured he would watch out for me.

So since we couldn’t call him “Nick“, we just called him Brownie. Anyway, he is kind of coffee brown in a real smooth as a rain-washed pebble kind of way and it only makes sense. It’s a wonder that they don’t call me Smokey, but Alex is all I got.

Well, one day Brownie and I were playing in Mr. Abe’s backyard because Mr. Abe is blind and he can’t see us. He has the best mulberry bush in town and we went there to pick some mulberries. We always stay quiet as sneakers walking on a rain cloud. The other children that play there are loud and throw rocks at the house to make Mr. Abe come out. He is fearsome with bushy white eyebrows and a cane that he waves at the children to make them go away. My mom said if we ever did that, she would take away our TV for a year. She just might, so we just talk real quiet-like to each other while we eat the berries. Sometimes I think he knows we’re there anyway, but so far, he hasn’t told our mother.

So, we were sitting there with mulberry juice just dripping from our jaws when up pops this funny-looking green insect. It’s just sitting there looking dead at us. Brownie says, “Wow, look at that. A praying mantis.” Well, I didn’t know what a praying mantis was, but I didn’t say anything but “Mmmmhmmm,” because I don’t want my brother to tease me and call me dumb. He thinks he knows everything.

“Yeah, look at that,” I said.

He said praying mantis got its name because it kneels down and puts its front legs together as if it’s saying a prayer. Mantis means that it is a prophet that can see into the future to warn people, like if a flood is coming or something. And more than that, people say that it is sort of an alien because the head looks like the aliens from outer space with big slanty eyes. Brownie said it’s from another planet, but I didn’t believe him. But he said that people in Africa use it to help them find lost sheep and goats.

Then I poked my finger at the thing to show my brother that I wasn’t paying that much attention to him.

He said, “No! Don’t do that. It may be little but it’s wicked mean. It can use its antenna like a sword and it spits something that looks like molasses that can blind and even kill you.” He said he saw it grab a whole humming bird and eat it alive. And he said never, but never, kill a praying mantis or you would have very bad luck.

I said, “Right, how do you know?”

“I just know,” he said. I figured that Uncle Brownie told him. (That’s really where he got his name.) Uncle Brownie is the strange one in the family. Nobody knows what he does and he never says. He just takes trips all over the world and comes back with rocks that can bend, pictures of painted people, and once I saw a shrunken head. Now that was something to talk about.

So we just sat eating our mulberries looking at the praying mantis while it looked right back at us. Nobody said anything.

This happened about the time Rainy scrunched up his face and made it rain. Or that’s what he said. So I thought, hmmm, well if this little green insect can lead children home with its special powers, find lost goats and sheep, and even travel all the way from another planet, maybe Rainy did have some special power. And if shrimpy, goofy Rainy had magical powers, then I must certainly be able to do something, too.

I couldn’t get that thought out of my mind.

That night, lying in my bed wide-awake, I wondered where the rainbow really did go and if Aubrey found it in her email. Then there was the thunderstorm and the lightning that struck near Rainy’s house. Like if Rainy was just showing off like Auntie Lula with the diamond ring. But what I mostly thought about was that praying mantis and how you weren’t suppose to kill it or you would have bad luck. Brownie was really serious about that. That’s like somebody putting a curse on you after they are dead. That’s really spooky and kind of neat. If the praying mantis had the power to do that, then I must have magic, too. After all, it’s only a little bug. But what could I do? Whatever it was, I hadn’t done it yet. Maybe it’s because I have to do something special before I can get my powers.

Then something said to me, “Kill a praying mantis.” What? “Kill a praying mantis.” I looked over to the other bed where Brownie was sleeping. He didn’t budge. In fact, he was snoring a little. It couldn’t have been him. It was some voice that sounded out loud, but wasn’t. It was somewhere between my head and the window by my bed. Did it come from outside? I got up and looked out the window but no one was there.

“Kill the praying mantis.”

I put the covers over my head and covered my ears. Then I fell fast asleep.

The next day I woke up with the sun shining through my window with kind of a lemony splash just like it always did. The monster big elm tree right outside my room scratched against the window just like it was itching to start the day. The same as always.

But something was different. I wriggled my toes, blinked my eyes, and twitched my nose. Yes, there was something different. It was me. I felt that since lightning didn’t strike me down in the middle of the night for just thinking about killing that praying mantis, I was on the path to my power. So what if one little ole praying mantis was missing from the earth. There were enough others to find lost children and sheep. Surely, they wouldn’t curse me for taking one for a very good reason. Or would they?