“Gary!  Gary Jackson!”  a voice interrupts his telling of the story to Janet.  He turns toward the voice and recognizes Ron Lumberjack.  He instantly stands and hugs the big man before him.  They are laughing and looking at each other before Ron draws his attention to Janet.

  “Hi, Janet,” he looks down at her, smiling.   “Long time, no see.”

  Janet extends her hand to Ron, who bends down and kisses it.

  “You take us out of the neighborhood but not for long,” she said to him.

  “No, you can’t.  We had a good time back then, didn’t we guys?” Ron said to the both of them.  “Well, Gary, I want to talk to you about the old football days, so I brought you another beer.”

  “I want to talk to you, too, Ronnie but I was in the middle of something with Janet.  Can I talk to you later?”

  Ron looked from Gary to Janet and smiled.  He handed the beer to Gary and said, “Sure.  Take your time.”

  Gary took the beer from him and offered the tip of it to Ron.  Ron raised the beer bottle he was holding for himself and clicked the top of his to Gary’s then he left them alone once again.

  “I like Ronnie,” Janet said as Gary resettled in his chair.  “He was a good friend back in the day.”

  “He was, is,”  Gary raised the beer bottle once again to his mouth and swallowed a drink.  “Where were we when we were rudely interrupted?”

  Janet took the opportunity to sip from her glass, too.  She set it back down on the table.  “I think you were about to talk about Wednesday.”

***

  Gary was sitting at the dining room table early Wednesday morning doing the homework he forgot to do the previous evening.  He had finished the algebra worksheet and was opening his United States history book to the chapter he had to read when his father entered the room  Gary looked up at him and saw he was carrying his shoes with a white shirt and a pair of pants folded in the bend of his arm.

  “Morning, Dad,” Gary smiled at him.  “I didn’t do my homework last night.”

  His Dad smiled, shook his head, and continued to walk past him toward the basement stairs and the shower.  He paused in the kitchen and returned to the dining room.

  “Remember Gary, if you are not starting on Saturday, I will not be attending.”

***

   It was Defense Day at practice.  The starting defense was huddled waiting for Coach Moore who was in charge of the defensive strategy.  Behind the huddle, he was talking with Coach Simon and Head Coach Stiller among the other defensive players including Gary and Jonesy.  The coaches were flipping through papers and when they finally came to an agreement, Coach Moore walked toward the huddle.

  “Jackson and Jonesy,” he called out.  “Come with me.”

  The two young men ran to join him as he entered the huddle.  The huddle reshuffled as the three newcomers broke the circle and when everyone settled in, the coach began to instruct the entire defensive unit.

  “As you know, the Comets have a star quarterback, Steve Parker, and he is their team.”

  Gary shook his head at the start of the speech.  It always started the same, every team has a star player who is their opponent’s “team”, and if they stop that person, we stop the “team”.

  “Mr. Parker,”  Coach Moore continued.  “can pass the ball.  Their offense is based on him doing that, so we are going to have to stop him from doing that.  We are going to use a lot of blitzes this week, mostly up the middle and a lot more from our monster.  Tim, are you ready to do that?”

  “Yessir!” Tim answered enthusiastically, and Gary could tell from his quick response, he was happy to be doing that.

   “And that means the rest of you have to do your job even better than you have all year.  Jackson,” the coach looked at Gary directly,  “You are going to be a lot busier this week than usual so pay attention.”

  Gary looked at the coach and simply nodded.  Coach Moore nodded back at him and continued, “The first play today will be our main blitz that we will call B1.  It will be from our 52 formation and, Tim, you will line up directly in the middle of our linebackers.  That means, Smitty, Andy, and Rick will go into a zone coverage across the back.  Okay? Let’s try it.  Smitty call it to the huddle.”

  Smitty did as he was told, and the huddle clapped their hands together in unison and lined up at the line of scrimmage.  Coach Moore, Jonesy, and Gary stood where they had been in the huddle and turned to watch the play develop.  Head Coach Stiller walked to them and stood next to Gary.

  “Jackson, we are thinking that when you go in, it will be at free safety and Rick will move to Monster to spell Tim,” Coach Still informs him,  “Watch the quarterback always and, especially, his eyes.  He has to look in the direction he throws the ball and what this guy is good at is throwing the ball to a space to allow his receivers to run into that space to catch it.  Their receivers are fast but no faster than our guys.  Anticipation is key with this guy.”

  A whistle blows ending the play before the quarterback was tackled.

  “Way to go Tim!”  Coach Moore yelled as the defense re-huddled around him.  “Okay, guys, good job.   The next blitz, we will call B2.  We will use the 61 formation and the DBs will line up in a normal man-to-man coverage but the cornerback away from the tight end will be the blitzer.  That means the free safety will have to get over and cover the receiver that the cornerback leaves open.  Do you understand Rick?  You will have to do a lot of running.  Are you up for it?”

  Rick nodded in response and Coach Moore told Smitty to call it.  The huddle broke and ran to the line of scrimmage.

  “And here is the other reason, Jackson,” Coach Stiller continued to inform Gary of his new responsibilities for the game.  “Rick will be needing a break because he will be doing a lot more running and we will be needing you to give him a break.”

  Gary nodded as he watched the drill in front of him.  The tight end had lined up to his left so that meant Andy was going to blitz from the right side of the formation.  Rick was already positioned to the at side and he took a step to that side.  The center snapped the ball to the quarterback and Andy ran to the inside into the open area as the wide receiver ran past him.  Rick had taken one step back and was on the move, running to catch the receiver who suddenly squared off to the left.  Rick had to turn on his jets to catch up with him and was narrowing the gap between them when the receiver looked back toward the quarterback.  Rick instinctively turned to look back at the quarterback, too, and the whistle blew.  Andy had reached the quarterback before he had a chance to throw it.

  “That,” Coach Stiller spoke to Gary again. “is the play that will get us.  That is the farthest run Rick, or you, will have to do, when the receiver does a down and out.  We need the blitzer to get there before their quarterback can throw him the ball.”

   The team huddled around Coach Moore and Coach Stiller stepped back to watch with the other defensive players lined up behind them.  Smitty was told to call the next play and the team ran to the line of scrimmage.  Coach Moore walked back to Gary and stood beside him.

  “What do you think, Gary?”  the coach folded his arms in front of him with the clipboard positioned under his arm.  The offense was lining up and the defense was settling into their 52 formation.

  “Sounds fun Coach,” Gary looked at him.

  “Could be your big day.  We are going up against a pure passer and this game will be right up your alley,” Coach Moore told him.  “You love interceptions, don’t you?”

  Gary returned to watch the play develop in front of him before he said, “You know I do, Coach.”

  A whistle blew and the players re-gathered again in front of Coach Moore who was looking at his clipboard.  He looked up at the group and said, “Jackson, let’s get you warmed up,”

***

  The activity bus dropped Gary off at the front of his house because he was the last one left on it.  Gary bounded the three steps of the bus, turned, and yelled up at the driver, “See you tomorrow, Mr. Bill.”

  The bus driver simply waved back, closed the door, and drove up the road.  It was around 6:30 and it was already dark.  Gary shook his head and said to himself, “It is dark when I get on the bus in the morning and it is dark when I get home.”

  He walked up the three steps of the hedge lined walkway to the front door, up the porch, opened it and walked into the house.  The lights were on in the living room and his brother Chris was watching the television.  His sister and parents were still sitting at the dining room table, leisurely talking among the scattered plates and platters of the completed meal.

  “Hi, honey,” his Mother saw him first from the far side of the table facing the front door.  “I have a plate warming in the oven.  It’s meatloaf.  I will get it for you.” 

  “It was pretty good,” Chris told him from his seat on the couch as Gary passed by him on his way to the dining room.

  Gary smiled at him as he placed his gym bag on the floor next to the couch.  He passed his father who is seated in the chair opposite his wife with his back to front door.  Gary continued to his chair, the second on his father’s right next to his mom, his brother’s empty chair next to his father, and across from his sister, who simply watched him as he sat down.

  “It was a great Defense Day,” Gary told whoever was listening.  “We are going up against a passer.”

  “What does that mean?” Katelyn asked, leaning back in her chair.

  “It means I am going to get a lot of playing time Saturday.  I will have a chance to make another interception or two.”

  “What’s an interception, Gary?” she asked him, feigning interest.

  “It means I get to steal the ball from the other team!” Gary said to her as their mother placed a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans, all of it covered in brown gravy, in front of him.  He picked up his fork, cut off a corner of the meatloaf, dipped it into the mashed potatoes, stabbed it into the green beans, and jammed it all into his mouth.  He looked at his father who was patiently watching and waiting for him to finish his first bite of supper.  Gary reached for his glass of milk that was ready in its usual placement, brought it to his mouth and gulped it.  His mother had just sat again when he put the milk glass down.

  “Gary are you going to start on Saturday?” his father calmly asked him.

  “I am going to play a lot,” Gary started to explain.

  Ronald rose from the table, collected his dishes, and carried them to the kitchen.  Gary put his fork down, no longer wanting to eat his meal.  His father walked behind him into the living room.

  “What’s on T.V., Chris?” Ron asked the son in the living room.

  Gary stared at his plate when is mother touched his arm and said, “Finish your supper.  It will be okay.”

  He just looked at her.

To be continued…

Janet interrupted Gary’s retelling of his story by asking, “You ran backwards the whole way around the Super Lap?”

  “That is what you got out of my story so far, that we ran the Super Lap backwards?  Really?”

  She smiled at him and sipped from her wine glass before she responded, “No, I am paying attention.  Go on.”

 “Okay,” Gary said as he tipped his beer bottle, emptying it into his mouth.

***

Tuesday morning Gary trudged down the steps from his bedroom to the main floor.  He placed his books on the dining room table and turned into the kitchen,  His mother is at the stove in her robe but his father wasn’t in the basement taking a shower, he was sitting at the table under the window.

  “Good morning, Gary.  How’s it going?” Ron asked his son as he pushed his empty plate forward.

  “Okay.  Hi Mom,“ Gary said as he continued to the counter and reached for the loaf of bread.  He removed a slice and placed it into the toaster.  He looked at his Dad as he waited for the bread to become toast.  “How are you, Dad?”

  “Fine, just fine,”  his father replied as he raised his cup of coffee from its saucer. 
“You know, I always want the best for you, and your brother and sister, but sometimes you have to do something for yourself.”

  The toaster popped and Gary turned from his Dad to place the toast onto a plate that was waiting on the counter for it.  He took a knife from the butter dish beside the plate and used it to cut through the stick of butter, and he used it to spread the butter across the toast.  When he was satisfied that the bread was sufficiently coated, he carried the plate to the table and sat across from his father.  He scooted across the bench to the wall then raised the toast to his mouth and bit down on it.  His mother slid another plate containing a fried egg, sunny side up, in front of him.  She then sat beside him with a plate containing her own fried egg.  Gary continued the conversation with his Dad by saying, “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know what got me out of Iowa, son?  Let me tell you, it was football.  Football, Gary.  I keep telling you that it is your way out and I expect you to go and fight for yourself.  You better push yourself to start Saturday because people, college scouts, come to watch players at Homecoming Games.  You want to showcase yourself and if you are not starting, I will not see you play.”

  “I don’t have control over that, Dad.”

  “You better take control,” Ron said as he scooted to the edge of the bench he was sitting on and rose to his feet.  “I will expect a report when you get home tonight and it better be a good one.  I am going to work now, honey.”  He bent down and kissed his wife on her cheek.

  Gary and Julie sat side-by-side finishing their breakfasts in silence. Julie completed her meal first and rose from her seat, turned to the kitchen sink with her plate and her husband’s.  She turned around to face her son.

  “He doesn’t mean a single thing he says,”  she told him as she folded her arms in front of her.

  “Yes, he does,” Gary placed his fork on his plate.  “If he didn’t mean it, why did he say it?”

  His mother watched him stand and step over the bench and walked out of the room.

***

  Practice on Tuesdays was Offense Day meaning the eleven players on the field who scored the touchdowns and all the points, and ultimately, all of the glory, practiced the plays they were going to run against that week’s opponents.   The defense simulated the defense their opponent’s might try to run against their team’s offensive unit.

  Hazelwood’s offensive strategy featured a unique set-up that was devised by their offense coach, Coach Bryzinski.  Coach Bryzinski was a former NFL back-up quarterback and was a huge find for the school.  He was also Gary’s P. E., physical education, coach.  In all football leagues: little league, high school, college, and professional, there must be seven players that lined up even with the ball as every play enfolds.  That is called the line of scrimmage.  The seven positions are the center, who hikes the ball, two guards that are on either side of the center, two tackles who are on either sided of the guards, and a tight end, who lines up on either side of the tackles.  The final position is called the split end who lines up opposite the tight end and usually “split” away from the other lineman.  That leaves the remaining four players that must be behind the ball and those position are the quarterback, the one who receives the ball from the center, and two running backs that are called fullback and halfback.  Those are the three positions traditionally behind the center.  They usually line up behind one another in an “I” position featuring the quarterback, then the fullback and finally, the half back or in a position in a split position with the halfback and fullback split apart behind the quarterback.  The remaining position is called the flanker and is lined up on the flank of the tackle that is not next to the tight end.  

  In Coach Bryzinski’s offense, the formation features a triple “I”  where the flanker lines up behind the quarterback, fullback, and halfback.  This formation allows for a lot of deceptions of who is the ball carrier and that Hazelwood High School team excelled at it.  The big star was the flanker, Paul Baker, who ran the ball and caught the ball for many touchdowns that season.  The running game set up the passing game and that is where the split end, Stan Bennett ,and Gary’s friend, the quarterback, Dan Masters, added their names to Hazelwood’s sports history book.

  Even though there are thirty-five players who are on the Varsity squad, there are only twenty who really play on Game Day and a handful of them play on offense and defense.  On Offense Day, and again on Defense Day, the players that don’t play on Game Day make up the squad that pretend that they are the team’s opponent on Saturday.  They live for Tuesday and Wednesday because it is their time to shine.  After calisthenics and stretching, working with tackling dummies, and running drills, the team divides itself and separates into two groups on the practice fields.  Coach Simon, the Defensive Back coach, was in charge of the opposing team, and this week it would be the McCluer Comets and he was gathering his squad.  Coach Bryzinski gathered the offense. 

  The starting offense automatically went into a huddle in front of the extra offense teammates that were standing in a line behind them.  Head Coach Stiller, who also coached the offensive lineman, stood with the line of extra players in order to watch how the plays developed and to offer critique and comments to the squad.  Coach Moore, the defensive line coach, stood beside Coach Stiller.  The extra defensive players stood on the sidelines and watched the scrimmage.  The players who started on defense  were part of the ones who stood and watched.  The DB Gang, all six of them, stood together and gossiped.

  “So Homecoming Dance,”  Andy started the conversation as they watched Coach Simon select the group who would be the Comets.

  “What about it?” Smitty prodded him as he pushed his helmet back to hang it on his forehead.

  “I haven’t decided to go or not,” Gary volunteered as he watched the offense break their huddle and march up to the line of scrimmage.  Coach Simon was still instructing his squad on how they were to position themselves.

  “What?  You got to go, Jackson,” Tim muttered.  “We all have to go.”

  The first play from the offense was a sweep to the far side of the field, away from them.  It was a fake to the fullback and a short toss from the quarterback to the star of the show who easily broke through the defense.  A whistle blew and all the players returned to their separate huddles.

  “Come on guys!” Coach Still yelled at the pretenders.  “You got to be tougher.”

  “I don’t have a date,” Gary reported to his group.

  “Neither do I!” Rick exclaimed.  “And neither does Andy.”

  “Yeah, I do,”  Andy informed them.

  “What?”  Rick questioned as six heads turned toward Andy.

  “No way,” Jonesy said.  “I don’t believe it.  Who?”

  “Marie Himm,” Andy said.

  “No way,” Jonesy shook his head as another whistle blew causing them to refocus on the field.  They missed a play.

  “Come on guys.  Two plays and they are walking through you guys like butter,”  Coach Stiller yelled.  “We are counting on you to give them hell!”

  “Marie Himm,” Rick said, unbelievably.

  “Well, if you don’t have a date or have one, it doesn’t matter.  We have to be together at the dance,” Smitty said.  “It’s our last Homecoming Dance.”

  “Not mine,” Ron said.  “I am junior.”

  The offense was running another play, this one was a pass play.  Dan, the quarterback, faked a handoff to the fullback and the cornerback covering Stan, the split end, went to tackle the running back.  Dan turned, still holding the ball, saw Stan running free and clear, and threw the ball to him for an easy completion.

  “I have had it!”  Coach Stiller yelled.  “I need some players over here.  Jackson!  Come show these guys how to play!”

  Gary looked at his fellow DB Backs, pulled on his helmet and said to them, “It is better to be playing then watching!”

***

  Katelyn, Gary’s sister, was setting the dining room table when Gary entered their house after practice.  She set the remaining plates down and hurried to him.

  “Gary,” she spoke in a whisper.  “Dad’s in a mood so be careful.”

  “Why?”  Gary asked her as he placed his jacket and two books that was his homework for the night, on the couch.

  “I don’t know.  But he isn’t talking.  Mom tried to talk to him, but he even gave her the silent treatment,” Katelyn continued in a whisper.

  “Where is he now?”  Gary whispered back to her.

  “In his room.”

   “What are you two whispering about?” Ron’s voice interrupted them.

  “Nothing, Dad,” Katelyn said, returning to the dining room table to finish setting the table.

  “Well, Gary,”  his Dad directed his attention to him now.  Julie stepped out of the kitchen.  The door to the upstairs slowly opened, too, and Chris, quietly stepped into the room.  All attention was on Gary when his father asked him, “How was practice?  Did you speak to your coach?”

  Gary looked from his father to his sister, his brother, and finally to his mother before he answered.  “Practice was great.  I had fun today.”

  “And did you speak to your coach?”  Ron said more sternly.

  “I did,” he lied.  “He is going to think about it.”

To be continued…

Gary returned with the two drinks, sat down next to Janet and said,  “I have to begin to explain to you what my Dad was like.  Do you remember my Dad?”

  “Sure,” Janet replied.  “He was always nice to me.”

  “Oh, my dad was nice, and he was a great dad.  He was fun and he gave the three of us all he had.  He got us involved in all kinds of activities;  baseball, scouts, swimming, dance, everything we wanted except football.  We weren’t allowed to play organized football until high school.”

  “Really?  I remember watching you play, I wouldn’t have guessed that you didn’t start playing until then,” Janet remarked sarcastically.

  “Well, smarty, I didn’t but his reason was simple, he didn’t want us to get hurt.  He loved football the best of all.  He received a football scholarship to a small college, Central Methodist.  It got him out of his even smaller town in Iowa.  He met Mom there and that, of course, led to me.  Back to football, he was a starter.  He played offense and defense as most players did in the 50s.  On offense, he played center.  You know the guy who hikes the ball to the quarterback.  Back then, Janet, they long snapped.  I mean, he practically threw the football between his legs every play to anyone behind him.  You know that side lot by the house.  Yeah.  He used to do that the length of the yard.  It was pretty amazing.  Anyway, on defense, he was a linebacker.  He never left the field, so he was rather intense when it came to football.  He dumped all of that on me.”

  “What do you mean by that?”  Janet took a drink.

  Gary took his first swig from the Bud Light beer bottle he had been spinning in his hand before answering her.

  “I am getting to that.  When he disciplined us, he was quiet and what I mean by that is that he rarely spanked us or sent us to a corner.  He would say something like ‘I am extremely disappointed in you”, give us a look, and walk away.  It would take a long time for us to get back in his good graces and I hated it.  When I started playing football, I saw a lot more of that because I wasn’t quite the player he was.  Before I explain to you that night that you saved me, you have to understand what he was like and what I was going through at home at that time.”

  “Okay,” Janet spoke hesitantly.

  “He didn’t even know he had anything to do with it and was the reason behind it all.  I was young, too.”

  “Okay,” Janet repeated like she had before.

  “Okay,” Gary took another swig from the Bud Light.  “It was building during that homecoming week and it started on the Monday…”

***

  It was a gray when Gary woke up and he knew it was going to be a rainy day by the time football practice would begin.  He trudged down the steps from his upstairs bedroom.  It was still dark outside, but his parents were awake doing their morning routine.  He knew his father was downstairs in the shower as he walked into his mother in the kitchen.  She was standing at the stove in her light blue robe that was pulled tight around her.

  “Scrambled eggs, honey.  Take a piece of toast and sit down.”

  He sat under the window and pulled a piece of toast from the plate in front of him.

  “I put your football uniform in your gym bag by the front door,” she continued to talk with her back to him as she was still focused on the stove.

  “Thanks,” Gary mumbled as he continued to chew the toast in his mouth.

  Finally, she turned from the stove with the small pan she was stirring eggs in and brought it to the counter where three plates were waiting for her.  She carefully divided the eggs into three portions, placed the pan in the sink, and brought two of the plates to the table.  She handed Gary one of the plates and sat down on the bench in front of him.

  Gary took the plate without speaking but he looked at her.  She smiled at him and he returned a small one in return.  They  picked up their forks and began to eat their eggs.  As they began, footsteps could be heard rising from the basement to the main floor.  The door to the stoop opened and in stepped, his father, Ronald Jackson.  The man stood about six feet, two inches tall and weighed about two hundred and fifty pounds.  His hair was gray still showing black streaks, his eyes were blue, and his jaw was square.  He was dressed in a white shirt that was buttoned to the top and tucked into dark blue pants.  Gary knew he would be adding a jacket and tie to complete his business work attire.  Ron stood at the counter to a steaming, full cup of coffee, and plate of scrambled eggs.  He reached for the fork beside it before he spoke.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning,” Julie replied while Gary continued eating his eggs.

  “It’s a big week, isn’t it, Gary?”

  “Yes, Dad.  You know it’s homecoming week,” Gary flatly replied.

  “Homecoming week,” Ronald repeated as he placed the first bite of eggs into his mouth and then sipped at this coffee.  “Are you finally going to start a game this year?”

  “I don’t know,” Gary answered and put his fork on his plate.

  “I was hoping you would be a player, Gary,” his father said as he continued to eat.  “I don’t think I will be attending unless you start the game.”

  Gary abruptly got up from the bench and scooted past his father.  As he left the kitchen, he called, “Thanks, Mom,” and stomped through the dining room into the living room.  He paused at the front door to pull on his black and gold leather, letter jacket, picked up his black and gold gym bag, left the house and slammed the door behind him.

***

  He was right.  It was raining as practice started that Monday.  Football practice on Mondays was what they called Run Day.  As Gary exited the side door of the school where the locker room was located, he spied the growing group of football players beginning to gather on the practice field and he walked toward them.  They all were carrying their helmets in one hand, and all were dressed the same in all white practice uniforms.  The netted jerseys were stretched over the shoulder pads and the padded pants reached just below the knee.  The sophomore team was at the far end of the field and the varsity, juniors and seniors, met closer to the school.  Gary walked to five guys standing to the side of a larger group.  The DB, Defensive Backs, Gang was gathering there.  The six defensive backs were always together during football season.  Their leader was Nick Smith (Smitty) and the others were Tim Blake, Andy Simpson, Rick Meyers, Matt Jones (Jonesy), and Gary. 

  In football, there are always eleven players on the field for both teams. Hazelwood’s  team defense uses what is called a 52 or 61 format, meaning there are either five lineman and two linebackers, 52, or six linemen with one linebacker, 61, in front.  There are always four defensive backs on the field behind them.  Smitty and Andy were the starting cornerbacks meaning they played on the outside of the formation behind the linemen and linebackers.  Smitty played on the left side and Andy the right.  Tim and Rick were the safeties and the were in the middle of the field behind everybody.  Tim’s position was called the monster position because he always lined up against the opponents’ tight end.  Rick’s position was called the free safety because the position was basically free to go to where the opposition takes the ball.  Jonesy and Gary were the back up players for any of the four defensive back positions.  Gary was the guy that was most often chosen to go in for one of the starting players particularly in passing situations.  Because of that, Gary led the team with interceptions.

  The six defensive backs pulled their helmets over their heads and huddled together.  Smitty placed his arm with a clenched fist in the center of the circle they had made and leaned in.  The others do the same, their fists join together, and their helmets click as they meet in the middle.  Smitty starts the chant that they began to do from the first day of summer practice to this October day, “D…B…Hawks, D…B…Hawks, D…B…Hawks…”  The others join in.  They start low and gradually get loud but not as loud as they could.  “D…B…Backs, D…B…Hawks,” the rhythm is catching and the huddle of six begins to sway with it.  A whistle blows and they yell as loud as they could “DB HAWKS!”

  “Run Day! You crazy DBs, you run backwards!” a coach yelled to the team and they started to do just that, run.   At the beginning of every practice, the team ran what is called the Super Lap.  The field beside the building is a huge square bordered by the school’s parking lot on the north, a road to an elementary school on the south end, the high school is on the east side and the football field, the location of the Saturday football games is at the west end of the square lot.  Inside the square, are two baseball fields, one in the northeast corner and the other, facing it, in the southwest corner.  Alongside the parking lot are eight, fenced in, tennis courts then a sidewalk that runs from the school to the football field.  From the school to the fence that surrounds the football field is another football field where the team practiced.  The super lap was the perimeter around this square lot of land.

  The DB Gang was running backwards, they always ran backwards on Mondays.  It was hard to talk when they ran backward but they did anyway.

  “Anyone hurting from the game?” Jonesy asked.

  The others answered negatively as they rounded the first turn around the baseball field there.

  “Any girl problems?” Andy always asked when they began this stretch of the run.

  “Why do you always ask us that?” Smitty laughed at him.  “Everyday.”

  “I ask because I was hoping to hear these two responses, you broke up with Ann and Gary has a girlfriend now.”

  “You know my old man doesn’t allow me to date during football season.  He wants me to focus on the game,” Gary groaned.

  “I can focus on both at the same time,” Rick added, and the group laughed.  They were beginning to catch up with the rest of the team that was running forward, specifically the lineman.  They, like the defensive backs, ran together in a cluster.

  “Caught up with you guys!”  Tim yelled at them.

  “It happens every Monday,” Brian Hutchins, the team’s center, called out.  “We catch up with you guys in the end, don’t we?”

  “Not today!”  Smitty called out as the group of six run around the contingent of eight, larger teens, and can now see them as they pass them, still running backward.

  They cheat and cut across the far corner of the square.  The linemen follow them and are in their sights.  There pace slows, running backwards for so long can get tough but they were also pacing themselves for the last sprint on the final edge of the lap.

  “We are going to beat them today,” Jonesy said.

  “Never say it,” Rick said.  “We need to keep this pace to the turn.  What do you think, we are ahead them by twenty yards?”

  “Yeah,” Gary agreed.  “About twenty yards.”

  “They will do what they always do, start sprinting at the last turn,” Andy said.

  “This rain,” Gary complained.  “Just makes it hard to run in.”

  “Could be our advantage,” Smitty said as he looked over his shoulder.  “We are about thirty yards from the turn.  They burn out about halfway through their sprint.  Let’s keep this pace through the turn and let them begin to sprint to pass us.  When they catch us, let’s turn it on, okay?”  The others agree.

  As predicted, the DB Gang make the turn about twenty yards ahead of the lineman and when they had all cleared the turn, the lineman began to sprint.  They caught and evened up with the defensive backs.

  “Go!” Smitty yelled and the group of six started to churn their legs faster as they ran backwards.  The lineman started to run harder but then one by one their pace slowed until only one was even with Jonesy, who was the slowest of the six.  A whistle blew and they all slowed to a stop with Jonesy and the DB Gang slightly ahead of the lineman.

  “Told you guys,” Smitty called out as he bent forward gulping in huge breaths of air.  “Not today!”

***

  “So,” Ron Jackson said to the family as he sat down for supper and then specifically asked Gary.  “How was practice?”

  “Muddy,” Gary replied as he put down the fork that he had just loaded up with green beans.  The others continued to eat and began to talk to each other as the question wasn’t addressing them.

  “Anything else happen?”  his father continued to quiz Gary.

  “Like what?” Gary asked trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

  “Like, are you starting this week?” his father revealed where he was going.

  Gary’s mother and siblings stopped eating and talking to pay attention to the conversation he was having with his father.

  “I don’t know.  We run a lot and do drills on Mondays,” Gary explained to his father.

  “Did you ask the coach?” Ron asked.

  “No, Dad, I didn’t,”  Gary yelled at his father.  “It’s Monday.  No one talks to anyone at practice on Monday.”

  “Well, I am letting you know that I will only be attending that game on Saturday if you are on the starting lineup.  You can’t get to college on the bench,”  Ron lifted his fork for the first time

  “Ronald!”  Julie spoke to her husband as Gary left the room and ran upstairs to his room.

To be continued…

Gary stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of the Millennial Hotel to the restaurant that slowly spins at one revolution an hour in order to change the panoramic window view of St. Louis.  The Hotel was near the riverfront but not quite on it and was about 30 stories tall and, as he stood in the lobby of the restaurant, he was looking through the windows to see the Gateway Arch.  There was a short line of people on his right-hand side at a coat check closet and he walked to join it.  He didn’t recognize anyone in line as he shrugged off the overcoat he was wearing but he smiled and nodded to them.   He handed the coat to the young lady who was politely smiling at him and she handed him a tag with the number 40 on it.  He smiled to himself as he took it from her because it was the number 40 he wore on his football jersey.  Number 40.  He chose it because it was a biblical number – a sign of completion.   Forty days and forty nights.  He had read somewhere that it was a special number, so he selected it for that reason.

  He turned from the line and straightened the dark blue suit coat on his shoulders.  He wore it open to reveal the starched white shirt beneath it.   He had decided not to wear a tie, but he had one neatly folded in the inside pocket of the jacket.  He wore the matching pants to the jacket and pulled from the right pocket, the name tag that had been given to him when he checked in at the table located inside the entrance of the hotel.  He looked at it again.  The name tag displayed his senior picture with his name below it in jet black letters.  The picture itself was a seventeen-year-old version of him.  The hair was much darker and parted on the side.  It was long. as it was the style then, a little over the collar.  It drove his father mad as he preferred the crew cut of his youth. Gary’s face in the picture was sporting a small smile.  As they all did for Senior picture day, he was wearing a tie and a jacket.  It was a black and white photo so you couldn’t tell the colors of the clothing, but Gary knew that the tie was red and the jacket a light tan.  He also knew that he wore shorts that day because it was a hot July day when the picture was taken.  He peeled the back off of the tag and pushed his picture on the left pocket of the jacket.

  “Gary? Gary Jackson?”

  Gary turned toward the voice and he saw a tall, thin man with arms outstretched toward him,  His hair was dark, neatly trimmed.  He, too, was wearing a blue jacket with no tie and Gary definitely recognized him.  It was Nick Smith, Smitty, one of the DB Gang.  The DB stood for defensive backs and the gang had a limited number of members of the football team.

  “Smitty,” Gary took a step forward and the two of them embraced in a hug.  “So, how ya been?”

  “Great. Great.  I am a supervisor at McDonnell Douglas,” Nick began to tell Gary about his personal history when a tall, pretty blonde woman stopped next to him.  “Oh, Gary, this is my wife Melanie.  Melanie, this is Gary Jackson.  We played football together.”

  “Hello,” Melanie hurriedly pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder and offered her hand to him.  He shook her hand and she stepped closer to her husband, obviously uncomfortable to be placed in a situation where she was meeting people for the first time.  “Let’s go in and get a drink, honey.”

  “Okay, Mel.  Gary, we will have to catch up later.”

  Gary watched the couple enter the restaurant and he decided to follow them.  He walked to the right inside the doorway and paused to see how the restaurant was laid out for the reunion.  Ordinarily, the tables were evenly spaced throughout the dining area.  They mainly seated four people per table but there were a few, tucked along the perimeter, that seated only two.  For large parties, during normal hours, tables would simply be pushed together to accommodate the size of the group.  Tonight the tables were situated in a semi-circle and, instead of the white tablecloths that usually covered them, they were covered in alternating black and gold ones, the school colors. The circle of tables surrounded a stage and dance floor.  The restaurant’s two bars were along the sides and the entrance to the kitchen entrance was to his left.  He had never been in the place until now and he did not know what to expect.

  He surveyed the people inside and spied a group of men, holding bottles of Bud Light, gathered in a corner next to the bar on the right.  He recognized them as former football teammates and made a mental note to check in with them later.  He moved his eyes slowly toward the stage front and paused on a group of women, sporting different colors of dress.  They shrieked when another woman joined them.  Gary shook his head as he continued his visual journey of the growing crowd.  The graduation class of 1973 was the largest of the state’s history, over 600 students.  He wondered how many would be showing up tonight and how many he would know or even remember.  He saw Smitty and his wife walking from the bar on his left to sit at a table. 

  Gary saw her then, Janet, sitting alone at a table in the middle of the clutter of tables.  She had curled her hair since he saw her that morning and she wasn’t looking his way.  It looked like she was observing those around her, like he had been doing.  Her hands were folded in front of her and a wine glass sat in front of them- revealing a dark liquid inside of it.  He walked toward her, weaving in and around tables, and stopped behind her right shoulder.

  “Hi,” Gary said, and she turned toward his voice.  She stood to face him and smiled.  He smiled back.

  “Hi Gary.  Do you want to have a seat?”

  “Sure.  Please sit,” he responded and moved to sit on her left.  “How are the boys doing?”

  “Oh, they are fine.  They asked me about you on the car ride home,” she explained as she sat down.

  “Really, and what did you say?” Gary asked as he sat and turned toward her.

  “A boy I grew up with.  So you look well,” she raised her glass to her mouth and sipped from it.  “Tell me what has happened to you since you left me.”

  Gary looked at her a moment before beginning to respond because he wasn’t sure how to.  ‘Since you left me’ threw him a curve.  He didn’t expect those words to be coming from her.  He had a totally different viewpoint of the way things were when the last time they were together the summer she went to college.

  “Let me start,” she interrupted his thoughts.  “I went to college, as you knew, to Truman, and got a degree in Business Administration.  I know, pretty generic, huh?  I now work at, you guessed it, McDonnell Douglas, in procurement.  I am a buyer there.  But before that, I met a guy named Sam Jones and became Janet Jones.  Don’t laugh!”

  Gary stopped laughing but continued to grin at her.

  “I know, Janet Jones, JJ – that’s what he called me.  JJ,” she stopped, her eyes averting to the table and she raised the wine glass to take another sip before she continued.  “I had the boys and we divorced, and changed my name back to Janet Saunders, about a year and a half ago, I guess.  He found someone new and I got a job.  So you are all caught up with me/”  She turned in her chair to directly face Gary with her wine glass in her hand on the table.  Without speaking, he knew it was now his turn to catch up.

  “Well, I never married.  I don’t have any kids.  You know, I stayed here, in St. Louis, and went to college at U.M.S.L.  My degree is elementary education, but I teach adults, coincidentally, in procurement, at in Wisconsin,”  Gary paused waiting for the obvious question from her.  She complied.

  “Wisconsin?  How did you end up teaching adults in Wisconsin?” Janet once again raised her wine glass and sipped another time.

  “My brother, Chris, went to school up there and met someone who is now my sister-in-law, Angie.  He started working, in procurement, at the University of Wisconsin in Madison.  He told me of an instructor job there.  I applied, got an interview, and was hired.  I did teach second grade a few years at Larimore, but the money was better in Wisconsin,” Gary explained and was interrupted again.

  “Larimore?  You taught at our old grade school?  Really?” Janet asked him excitedly.  “Did you teach with any of our teachers?”

  “I did.  Several of them,” he told her.  “That was really weird.”

  “How was it weird?” she inquired edging closer to him.

  “It was funny working alongside them and talking shop with them.  There were a lot of “I remember you” stories.   Oh, and stories about my siblings, too.  But the hardest thing was getting used to calling them by name.  I was so used to calling them, Mrs. Barrett, not Mary,” he laughed, and Janet joined him.

  He took a moment then to look around the room as it was beginning to fill with familiar faces.  There was Dan Masters, the team’s quarterback joining the ever-growing members of the football team over by the bar.  Gary played Khoury League baseball with Dan, too.  Dan’s dad, Clyde, was the manager of the team that was sponsored by Ozella’s Italian Restaurant, and he was probably Gary’s biggest influence in the importance of intensity and staying focused on a project.  The man was also very patient with the team.  They were a pretty good team, too, winning several championships and because of that, Gary’s love of baseball.  Ozella’s would give them an end of season family pizza party banquet and they would have an award ceremony, too.  

  A loud explosion of laughter turned his attention to the corner opposite the football players.  He recognized the group of people from the neighborhood, his and Janet’s neighborhood.  There was Allison Masters, Harold Garner, Jim O’Brien, and Ron Lumberjack, who was on the football team, too.  Robert Carrico was joining them, and it was the cause of the laughter.  He probably should go see them.  Instead, Gary returned his gaze to Janet.

  “You saved me, you know,” he said to her.

  She stopped smiling at him then before she spoke.  “You never told about that.  Why had it happened?  Can you tell me now?  I think I deserve to know.”

  He searched her eyes, the quiet green eyes, wondering what she would think if she knew the whole story.  He smiled at her when he decided to tell her everything.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed with her and rose from his chair.  “Let me get a beer and you another glass of wine.

To be continued…

Spanish Lake is at the far eastern area of the Hazelwood School District in north St. Louis County.  When Gary was in high school, the district was in the midst of a population explosion and were building two additional high schools that would the three schools would become Hazelwood West. Hazelwood Central and Hazelwood East.  Hazelwood Central, then known simply as Hazelwood High School, was the main school, and the student population in 1972 was split into three separate schools called School B which became Central, C became East, and D became West.  The students attended classes in two shifts that overlapped each other.  The first one started at 6:45 a.m. and ended at 2:30 p.m. and the other began at 7:45 a.m. and ended at 3:30 p.m.  Athletics began after 3:30 p.m. and the activity busses left school at 6:00 p.m.

  The group of kids in School C were the early shift because they had the largest number of people in its population and the farthest, in distance, from the high school.  Gary was in School C and rode a 25-minute bus ride to and from school every day.  He played football and baseball so in the fall and spring he had long days.  His siblings went to Hazelwood East and his brother was the first quarterback in that school’s history.

  Gary rose early Saturday morning on the day of his reunion to find that his mother, Julie, had prepared breakfast and was waiting for him at the kitchen table.  The sunshine was coming in through the window above the light pink table that matched the pink of the cabinets.  The wallpaper was floral featuring pink flowers in white ribbons alternating with the light pink of the table.  His mother sat on the bench beneath the window against the wall.  She had a cup of coffee on the table in front her.  Her gray hair was pulled on top of her head in a loose bun and a fuzzy gray robe was wrapped around her medium built frame.  On the table before her a plateful of bacon was centered between two plates of scrambled eggs and hash browns.  She had one in front of her and the second was settled in a spot that was obviously meant for him.

  “Good morning, Gary,”  she spoke to him first.  “I heard you moving around so I made breakfast.  There is a cup on the counter next to the percolator and you know where the orange juice is, don’t you?”

  “Hi, Mom”, he simply said as he paced to the counter to lift the coffee pot she had directed him to and poured himself a cup of the dark, hot liquid.  He brought the cup with him as he slid onto the bench opposite her.  He took a sip from the cup before continuing the conversation.

  “Thanks for breakfast,” he said as he lifted a piece of bacon from the plate.

  “So what’s on tap today, son,” she mirrored hm by lifting a piece of bacon from the pile and crunched it in her mouth.

  “Well, they are having an open house at the school this morning and I thought I would stay for the game afterward.”

  “I see”, she lifted her fork and slid it under her eggs. “Darn, I forgot toast.  Can you put a couple of slices in the toaster for us?”

  :Sure,”  he slid back out and back to the counter.  He opened the cabinet closest to the sink expecting to get the bread and he was rewarded.  He pulled two slices from the plastic wrapped loaf of bread and returned it to its storage place.  The toaster was on the counter directly below the cabinet.  He placed the two slices in it and pushed down the handle.  He turned to the door behind him and pulled the handle to the refrigerator on the stoop to open it.  He found the butter and returned to the counter with it.  The toaster snapped and the top of the slices appeared.  He pulled them out and threw them on the counter.  He reached below the counter and pulled the drawer beneath it to reveal the utensils and retrieved a butter knife that he used to spread butter on each piece of toast.  He left the butter in its dish with the knife on the counter and returned to the table.  His mother watched every move he had made during this routine.  She was smiling at him when he sat down.  He noticed.

  “What?”

  “It was like watching you when you were in high school again and you haven’t left home,”  she used her toast to push more eggs onto her fork.

  He laughed and mimicked her, pushing eggs onto his fork and included a portion of the hash browns with it before he put it into his mouth.  They ate in silence for a few minutes, smiling and looking at each other before he broke the silence.

  “Mom, I was thinking, would you like to go with me today?”

  She put her fork down and selected another piece of bacon and crunched it her mouth.  She chewed slowly, thinking about the offer.  Gary took another piece of bacon as well but held it in his hand waiting for her to respond.  Julie finally answered him.

  “I’d love to go to a football game again.”

  The drive to the school seemed faster that what Gary remembered.  He drove, with his mother beside him, up Trampe Road to Bellefontaine Road turning right, following it to its end at Jamestown Road.  They turned left there to its end at Highway 67, turned right onto it.  They left the highway at the first exit onto Lindbergh Boulevard and travelled for eight miles to New Halls Ferry Road.  He turned right on that road and drove it for six miles and there it was, Hazelwood Senior High School, now Hazelwood Central,  appearing on the left.  It was a long way from home and Gary remembered it as a long bus ride to school.  He turned into the parking lot, slowed down pausing for just a few seconds to gaze at the front of the school. 

  When Gary attended, the school’s forefront featured a quarter mile two-story building but currently, an addition was in front of its immediate right.  He understood that an indoor swimming pool was positioned there beneath a golden dome and he was anxious to see it for the first time.  He turned right and then an immediate left into the parking lot in front of the domed portion of the building.

  “It looks different than when you went to school,”  Julie observed.

  “A little bit.  Let’s go see the inside, shall we?”  Gary turned the ignition of the Grand Am to the off position and then both of them exited the vehicle.

  Together they passed to the left of the domed portion of the building and they looked inside its windows.  The ripples of the water in the pool could be seen through them.  It is an Olympic size pool and a smaller one beside it.  Gary wondered why there were two pools.  They entered the main doors where a table was set up and a young adult sat at it.  They walked to it.

  “Good morning,”  she said.  “My name is Jerry.  How can I help you?”

  “Well, hello,” Gary responded.  “My name is Gary Jackson, and this is my Mom, Julie.  I am from the class of ’73 and was told that the school is open for us to walk around.”

  “It is but we just would like you to put your name on these name tags so everyone knows you are okay to be in here.”

  “Thanks,”  Gary said as he bent down and filled out the two tags that were offered to him.  He handed one to his mother and he peeled the back of the other one and placed it on his chest.  They left Jerry at the table and started the tour.  After a few steps they were in the main hallway in the very center of it.  There, they looked down to see the bronze seal of Hazelwood High School is embedded.  It is a three-foot circle with a ring the states Hazelwood High School presented by Class of 1965 and in the center of a Hawk, in flight, flew over a banner that says Hazelwood HS. It is the school’s emblem.  It is untouchable and a school sin to walk on it.

  “It’s beautiful, Gary,” Julie stated as she stared down at it.

  “I didn’t know it then, but I do now,” he agrees.  He looks to his left and then to the right down the quarter mile hallway known as hallway A.  He looked at the hallway before him, which was known as B, and knew the ones at the end of hallway A, the one on the left is B and the one on the right is D.  Each hallway’s junction with hallway A is an office that represented each school, B, C and D.   Now they are the offices for each grade level, Sophomore at hallway A, Junior at B and Senior at C.

  “When it rained and we couldn’t go outside for gym, particularly when we were on any of the teams, we ran this hallway, over and over,” Gary told his Mom.  “It seemed a long way then and it still looks like a long way.”

  “It does,” she replied and the asked, “Where do you want to go?”

  “Classrooms are classrooms, but I got to see that art room,” he turned to face her.  “It’s on the second floor.”

  “Let’s go,” she watched her son as looked straight ahead down hallway C and then back to the left and then to the right.

  “I think we will go to my locker first,” he said as he started down hallway C.  “There’s a stairway opposite it.”

  “Finally,” she laughed as she hurried to catch up to him.

  Gary meandered back and forth along the hall that was lined with lockers and interrupted by doorways into various classrooms.  Hallway C, and the matching hallways B and D, were not nearly as long as the main one but they all emptied into the cafeteria.  Gary’s locker was one classroom from the entrance of that huge lunchroom.

  “Are we there yet?”  Julie whined to her son.  “How often did you get to your locker when you went to school?”

  “Here is my locker,”  he paused in front of the brown colored door of locker numbered 144.  “And I came here in the morning when I arrived, came back right before lunch, and finally, before my last hour.  I also used Janet’s locker upstairs for the classes closer to any classes up there.”

  “How long did you get in between classes?” Julie asked as they stood in the hallway staring at the metal door.

  “Five minutes,” he answered her.

  “That’s why he used my locker upstairs,” a voice behind them interrupted their conversation.

  “Janet?” Gary asked as he turned around.  “I was just telling my Mom that I used your locker, too.  Oh my, you look good.”

  There, standing before Gary, a petite brunette, green eyed, with a dimpled smile grinning at him, was Janet Saunders.  Janet and Gary were good friends, best of friends from the neighborhood.  The second neighborhood.  They met at the bus stop waiting to get on the bus to Kirby Junior High School for seventh grade.  She had the same smile and the same green eyes, but her hair was longer than the length she wore it as she stands before him now.

  She unashamedly hugged him and softly said, “Hi, Gary.”  When she released him, she looked at him for moment then turned her attention to his mother.  She hugged her, too.

  “Hello, Mrs. Jackson.  It is good to see you.

  “Hello Janet,” she said, smiling  “Call me Julie, please.  We are all grown up here. It is good to see you, too.”

  “Yes, we are grown up but that will be hard to call you Julie, Mrs. Jackson,”  Janet laughed in response as two boys bounded down the stairway behind her.  They came to a stop next to her looking from Gary to Julie.

  “Oh, these are my boys, Michael and John.  Mike and John, this is my friend Gary and his mother, Mrs. Jackson.”

  The two of them mumbled hello and the two adults responded the same to them causing all three adults to laugh.  The boys huddled closer to their mother.

  “Sorry boys for laughing,” Janet told the two them then looked back at Gary.  “Are you going to the reunion tonight?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he said to her.

  “Well, the boys wanted to see where I went to high school, but they are ready to go.  Can we catch up tonight, Gary?”

  “Absolutely,” he bowed toward her.

  She laughed at him, bowed in return.  She took her children, one in each hand, and slowly walked away.  Gary watched her go as she paced away from him.  She still bounced as she did when they walked in the hall many years ago.  The boys dropped their hands from her, and she turned to look back at him.  He waved.  She waved back as she started walking backwards and slowly turned away from him.

  “You still like her, don’t you?”  Julie asked her son.

  “You don’t know the half of it, Mom,” he said as he turned toward her.  “Yeah, I still like her.  Let’s go upstairs and see that art room, huh?”

  After the tour of the art room, the location of several classrooms where Gary reminisced about teachers and classmates, they headed toward the gym.  They were back on the first floor after exiting a stairway in hallway D which is the closest to the gym.  As they walked to the end of the main hallway, they turned right and strode down a short hallway through a door and they entered the atrium to the gym.  Trophy cases lined the wall on the right and pictures of the current season’s sports teams are on the it.  The boys’ teams were on the left and the girls’ teams on the right, just like it was done when Gary went to school there.  They turned left, the entrance to the building is on their right and the entrance to the gym was on their left.  Gary turned toward the gym and on the wall on either side of the two, two-door doorways were more photos on the wall of the championship teams.  Below these pictures were the trophy cases for those teams.  Julie walked toward the pictures on the right side and slowly stopped before one of them.  Gary walked to stand beside her knowing why she stopped.

  “There you are,” she said as she pointed at the picture of him sitting in the second row, fourth from the left.

  “Yep, that’s me,”  Gary responded as he stepped toward the trophy case and saw the one that belonged to him and the team his mother was pointing out to him.  It was really a plaque on a stand.  It was made of wood and it was in the shape of the state of Missouri.  Printed on a bronze plate, centered on the state, were words that said, “State of Missouri, Class 4A Football Co-Champions – 1972.”  It was Hazelwood School District’s first state championship in their history.  A small smile grew on Gary’s face.  His mother caught it.

  “What is it?” she quizzed him.

  “Nothing, Mom,” he replied and walked back to the doors to the gym.  He stared through the door’s window to an all-to-familiar room.  It held two basketball courts that during games the court on the right would be covered with large roll away bleachers.  They would become the visiting team’s side of the main court.  Permanent bleachers lined the court on the left for the home team and above it in huge block letters was painted the words “Home of the Hawks”.  Also painted high on the wall across from the doorway Gary stared through, was a huge hawk.  In his day, it looked more like the Kansas Jayhawk logo but today it looked more natural, a huge hawk in flight.  A scoreboard was mounted below the hawk.  Banners representing each of the Suburban North Conference school mascots hung from the ceiling outlining the courts.  A stage was located at the far-right end of the room because the gym was also used as the school’s theatre and band, musical and vocal, concerts.

  The gym was mainly used for basketball and wrestling.  The basketball nets were mounted on huge trestles that extended from the ceiling and all eight of them were in the down position.  There was a set of two nets on each basketball court and two additional hoops hung down along the outside edges of both of them.  Gary also knew that hidden on the other side of the hawk decorated wall were the locker rooms.  He remembered the games, the matches, the pep rallies, and the gym classes that he experienced in that room.  He couldn’t believe he was getting so melancholy about his high school days.

  “Are we going inside?” his mother asked him.

  “We don’t have to, Mom.”

  “I’d like to step inside, if you don’t mind,” she said.

  Gary smiled at her and pulled open the door to allow his mother to walk in front of him.  He followed her and they stopped just inside the door.  Together, they looked around the room, drawing in the sight and the smell of it.  The gym had a distinct smell, a mix of floor polish and sweat.  He definitely knew he was in a gym.  They stood together but each of them was remembering different memories.

  “Are you ready to go to the game?” Julie finally asked him.

  “Nah, I have seen what I wanted to see today,” Gary answered her.  “What do you want to do?”

  “I came for the game,”  she reminded him and laughed.

  “That’s right,” he laughed back and pushed open the door.  “Let’s go to a football game.”

To be continued…

It was 12:34 p.m. when the plane touched down on Friday, October 1, 1993 at St. Louis Lambert International Airport.  Gary Jackson knew the time because he looked at his wristwatch when it happened.  He eased back in his seat as the plane’s brakes slowed it down allowing it to exit the runway and angle to the left toward the gates of TWA.  He was returning to his birthplace to attend the Hazelwood High School class of 1973 twenty-year reunion.  He shook his head in disbelief.  Where does the time go?  The plane halted and the cabin lights went on as the rumbling of people readying themselves to exit ended the silence.  He remained seated in his station by a window as others rose from their seats to open overhead baggage doors.  He waited as the line of people thinned out until he stood, ducked his head to enter the aisle and follow the others out of the plane.  He continued to walk up, what he had always called the “gangplank”, and entered the mainstream corridors of the airport.  He passed a group of people huddling at the gate stand discussing seat arrangements with a TWA attendant located there for that purpose.  He turned to his right and joined the crowd of humanity walking toward the baggage claim area.   His mind drifted to high school and he began to compare himself then to now.  He had grown another inch to five foot, nine inches tall, but added another twenty-five pounds.  His hair remained collar length but from black to salt and pepper, many thanks to his parents or that’s who he blames for it anyway.  He chuckled to himself as he reached Baggage Claim 1 and looked for a nearby seat.  He knew he would be waiting for a few minutes and he wasn’t in any hurry.  He saw one at the end of row of three black cushioned chairs anchored together making them immobile.  The seats were across from where luggage appeared from somewhere below to tumble out on a moving conveyor belt that brought suitcases to their owners.  He sat down, leaned back, and waited.

  He envisioned in his mind what the upcoming weekend might be like for himself.  He, reluctantly, agreed to stay with his mother in her home which also happened to be the house where he spent his high school, and, as it turned out, his college years.  He just couldn’t say no to his Mom.  He was going to rent a car though so he wouldn’t have to use her vehicle.  The reunion itself was to be at the Stouffer’s Riverfront Inn in downtown St. Louis and the revolving restaurant on its top floor.  Hazelwood High School, now known as Hazelwood Central High School, was to be open to them to walk through Saturday morning.  He decided to do that and possibly watch the afternoon’s football game, too.

  A siren wailed and a yellow light began to spiral over the luggage turnstile interrupted his planning thoughts.  He turned his attention toward it and watched as the baggage began to slowly rise from the depths below and push up through an opening at the top of it.  He watched suitcases began to topple out of it to land on the conveyor belt that wrapped and moved around the structure in an elongated oval.  As the various shapes and sizes of suitcases and other items of luggage traveled on this conveyor belt, people began to jockey for position to pull their particulars items from it.  He spies his suitcase as it appears from the opening and falls onto the belt and is whisked away from him.  He rises from his seat and approaches the structure to wait for his black suitcase to complete its orbit .  He takes a step to the edge and bends to snatch his item from the conveyor belt.  He sets it on the floor and checks the tags to confirm that the bag was his, pulls the handle from the upper end of it, and exits the baggage claim area. 

  He instinctively turns left to walk the open corridor to the closest exit to the rental car shuttle bus pick-up location.  He barely pauses when he arrives there as the Avis Car Rental bus slows to a stop next to him.  He boards it, telling the driver that he needs to go to the reception desk to pick up his rental car.  He hoisted his suitcase onto the rack just inside the bus for the purpose of holding luggage while being transported to the rental car hub.  He sat in a seat next to the rack.  His hand checked the chest pocket of his shirt to feel for the two dollars he had placed there to be used to tip the driver.  He closed his eyes and kept his body loose as the bus jostled and jumbled its way toward the rental car lot.  Gary only opened his eyes when the bus halts and the driver calls out “Main Building.”  He stands and waits for the driver to grab his suitcase to walk it out of the vehicle.  He steps down and reached inside his pocket to recover the money.  He hands it to the man and thanks him.  He takes the risen handle of his bag and walks inside the building.

  In front of him, a long desk is spread before him.  Four representatives stand on the other side, spaced uniformly from each other.  He weaves his way through a structured maze of a line imposed on customers to provide a sense of order as they are forced to wait for one of the attendants to become available to assist them.

  “Can I help you?” the farthest representative called out.

  Gary walks forward pulling his luggage toward the young lady.  As he stopped in front of her, he reached into his back pocket and removed his wallet.

  “My name is Gary Jackson and I have a reservation,” he informs her.  She begins to type information into the terminal and looks at the monitor in front of her before she responds.

  “I have a Pontiac Grand Am reserved for you.  Is that okay?”

  Gary turned right on to Woodson Road from the Avis Rental Center in the bright red 1993 Grand Am that was assigned to him.  He turned left at the next intersection when the traffic light told him to do so and continued to the entrance ramp to I-70 east bound.  He remembered to get up to speed and cross two lanes to his left to get to the entrance ramp to northbound I-170, known locally as the Innerbelt.  He followed that highway until the decision to go east or west on I-270.  He chose the eastbound lane and knew he was truly on his way home to Spanish Lake, Missouri.

  Spanish Lake was named for the Spanish troops who stayed there while building a fortified post in 1768.  It was a farm community until the 1960s when tract housing was built within it.  It was in one of these houses Gary was raised.  His family moved from there to a larger, two story home just up the road.  That house was originally built in the 1930s.  It was in this house his parents remained living in even after all of their children, Gary, Chris, Katelyn, and Mark, left.

  Gary’s father, Ronald, was a quiet man.  He didn’t speak much but when he did it was harsh and quick.  At least, that was the way Gary remembered him.  Harsh was a nice way of saying he was critical.  Very critical,  Also, his expectations of Gary, in particular, was extremely high.  He expected his oldest child to be perfect.  Just like his own perception of himself.  His father thought himself as perfect, and his children had to be perfect, too.  He died in 1985 on Gary’s 30^th birthday.  Gary’s thought on him remain silent.

  His mother, Julie, was totally the opposite from his father.  She is bubbly and personable.  She talked to everyone, friends and strangers alike.  She was a stay at home mom until Gary was a senior in high school when she became a secretary for the St. Louis recruiting office of Central Methodist College.  Julie was insistent that the family went to church together, to the grocery story together, and, well, everywhere together.  She was kind and a good listener but for the longest time she didn’t defend them from Ronald and his stern demeanor toward his children.

  Gary decided to exit I-270 at Bellefontaine Road and was stopped by the traffic light at the intersection of the exit and the street itself.  When the light changed to green, he turned left onto Bellefontaine Road and was stopped again by a traffic light beneath the overpass at Dunn Rd.  As he waited, he looked left to see the Shell gas station at the corner and then to his right to the Mobil gas station at that corner.  Just on the other side of the Mobil was a Denny’s restaurant that he frequented as he grew up.  When he was allowed by the traffic light to proceed, he passed the Mobil station, ignoring the McDonald’s on the left, and he turned right on to Larimore Road.  He continued to follow that road, past an entrance to Denny’s, past the small shopping strip on his right that held Saullo’s Pizza Parlor and Spanish Lake Liquor Store.  On his left, he passed the Kentucky Fried Chicken that sits in the middle of a triangle of land that divides Larimore into one-way streets.  As he passes the restaurant, the road merges from its division into a two-lane road.  He passed the entrance to the private pool called Larimore Swim Club.  His family never became members but many of his friend’s families did so he was a frequent guest to the pool.

  He continued on Larimore Road over the train tracks and passes Mollerus’ Farm on the left.  There, a vegetable stand is on the street and they sell fresh produce, tomatoes, corn and whatever is grown there for whatever season is happens to be.  As he passed the house on the farm, Gary spied in the far corner of the farm plots, orange orbs, pumpkins, stretched out in a few rows.  Coal Bank Road came up on his right with the same old gas station on the corner and the Thrift Grocery Shop behind it.  A small hardware store is next to the Thrift Store.  Just past the gas station is a small concrete building that houses a small Beauty salon.  He had never been inside, but he remembered that his Mom visited it once or twice.  The neighborhood he grew up in began on the left.  The streets were connected to Larimore Road but really were a series of U-shaped streets connected together.  The first streets were Senate Drive and Rhea Avenue then Baron Avenue and Congress Avenue then Scott Avenue and Prigge Avenue and finally June Avenue and Walker Avenue.  There were more streets that went beyond Walker that end at Trampe Avenue where Larimore elementary School was located but these were the streets of his childhood neighborhood.  He decided to drive by the house where he grew up in on Congress Avenue. 

  When the street sign appeared, he pulled the turn signal to indicate his intention to turn left onto it.  He entered the street between two, two story houses that seemed to serve as sentinels into the inner realm of the neighborhood but once he passed them, every house looked the same.  They were rectangular structures with a one lane driveway on the side of the house of what was called the living room.  The inside of each home would be identical, you would walk into a living room and once you went through it, you were into a kitchen.  A hallway would stretch from the living room/kitchen connecting to three bedrooms and the bathroom.  The landing to the stairway to the basement and the doorway that led out to the backyard was at the far end of the kitchen.  One of the bedrooms was the master and it was usually the one just past the bathroom with the other two smaller bedrooms across the hall from it behind the wall against the living room.

  Gary paused at the yield sign on the corner of Bowers Avenue which was a street that started at Senate Drive and ended at Walker Avenue that divided the streets in half.  He continued forward, passing a few more houses until he began to slow down when he came to his house that was positioned on a portion of the street that started to U back toward the left.  He stopped in front of the gray shingled home of his childhood.  The silver leaf maple tree his father planted still stood in the front yard, much larger than what he remembered.  As you face the house and the three steps to the entrance of the house, the driveway was on the left.  He could see the chain link gate at the back of it that marked the entrance to the backyard.  The gate was as wide as the width of the single car driveway.  The closure of the gate created a small patio where his parents had placed one of those three-foot swimming pools in the summer.  He remembered the backyard sloped toward for the house behind them and the swing set was placed in the corner of the lot.  His room that he shared with his brother Chris was at the end of the house and his sister, Katelyn, was in the bedroom that faced the front of the house next to the living room.  His brother, Mark, was born after they moved to the house where his mother still lived in now.  When he thought about that, he restarted and followed the street to the left and when he passed two more houses, the street sign noted the name change from Congress to Baron.  He passed houses where friends once lived, yielded at Bowers again and headed toward Larimore Road.  He turned left to continue toward Trampe Avenue and his second childhood home.

  When Gary passed Walker Avenue, he goes by another set of streets that, in appearance, looked like another neighborhood but in reality, the streets simply lost the U-shape structure of the portion where he grew up and began a series of tree-lined, checker board streets.  It was the older part of the neighborhood and the houses were more uniquely structured, not the uniform structure of his childhood memories.  These were some ranch style houses with garages, and two-story houses with carports.  The trees in the yards were more mature and taller than the ones on Congress. 

  Up ahead, Larimore Road began to divide with the right lane heading toward more farms toward Columbia Bottoms Road and the Mississippi River  The left lane is lined by another three store front, the one at the end being the old Northdale Market and noticed it was now is called Spanish Lake Market.  A stop sign stood there marking the intersection of Larimore and Trampe.  Gary continued to the stop sign.  Across the street on his left is Larimore Elementary School and, on his right, is Lawnmower Service, a building that was used to be a Gas Station where his Dad worked part-time.  A street called Madrid separated the school from the lawnmower shop and it was down this road he drove.  Burgos Avenue was the street his family moved to when he entered the seventh grade as his youngest brother was growing inside his mother.  It was the second street on the right opposite one of the three baseball fields on the school property. 

  When they first moved to the two story four-bedroom house, the street was gravel and white dust would be jettisoned into the air when a car drove on it.  Eventually, the county took over the maintenance of the road and the gravel was replaced with asphalt.  There are only four houses on Burgos and the Jackson’s lived in the second house on the left.  The property was offered for sale as two lots, but his father sold half of one of them to their forever neighbors, the Black’s.  They shared the cost of installing a chain link fence to mark the division of the yard.  Wilbur Black put in a huge garden in his portion and the Jackson’s received vegetables from the garden’s bounty.  On the Jackson’s lot, when Mark was a senior in high school, his parents had a two-car garage built there.  At the same time, they also added an additional room to the back of the house including a deck.  Gary and his siblings used to tease them for building that room after they had moved out to make their own lives because they could have used the room. 

  Their house sat on a little hill with a steppingstone path that went up three steps that was lined with a short hedge.  The walkway continued to the two-step porch that went the length of the front of the house.  Lawn chairs were placed on it and it was here they sometimes spent wasting away summer evenings chatting with the family and neighborhood friends.  The house was built in 1930s and it was quite irregular as it was one of those houses built by the original owner.  It originally had creosote shingles that they had to occasionally paint with creosote oil to retain protection and color.  The oil would burn on contact and even the sun’s reflection off of the shingles would cause a sunburn.  When they did paint it, they would start early in the morning to avoid the heat.  His parents eventually replaced the brown shingles with white stucco siding.

  Once inside the house, one walked into a great room with a fireplace immediately on the right.  The cat, Hazel, a black and gold calico, would lay on the mantle and swat at people when them came into the house.   The dining room could be seen from the doorway giving the allusion of even a bigger room.  The additional room was built on the other side of the dining room, giving the appearance of an even larger room because one could look from the front door into that new room.  The dining room table was the centerpiece of family events.

  The kitchen was to the right of the dining room and it was small, barely big enough to cook in.  Across from the entrance into it, the sink was at the far corner of it along the outside wall of the house.  A small counter with cabinets below it and above it, were at the sink’s left side.  At the doorway, on the left, a drop-down table was hidden in the wall and folded out before a small window, in between the counter.  It was opposite the stove on the right of the entrance.  The table came down only for lunch because it just wasn’t big enough for all of them to sit at once. On the other side of the stove/oven combination appliance, a door leads to the basement steps down to a stoop where the refrigerator is positioned in the corner next to the side door.  That door leads to the driveway that runs past it to the separate garage in the rear of the property.  The catch is that a modern car could not get by the house to get to the garage.  The stoop also was the entrance to go downstairs to the basement.

  As one walks toward the dining room, a hallway entrance appears on the left.  There is a telephone stand there on the right imbedded in the corner, a bedroom is on the left (his brother, Mark’s room), the bathroom is straight ahead, and the master bedroom is on the right.  The bathroom was the only one in the house and it did not have a shower, just a bathtub and sink.  Dad put a shower stall in the basement, and this is where they usually cleaned up.  It was in the laundry room and it made it easy to get dressed there.  Why?  There were two long tables alongside the washer and dryer where the folded clean clothes were lined up and they were supposed to take their personal pile to their rooms to put them away.  Well, they didn’t.  Mom did not like that because the children just left the dirty clothes in piles on the floor.  Once in the dining room a door appears on the right just before the kitchen and it leads to the two bedrooms upstairs where Gary and Chris still shared a room and their sister was in the other one.

  Gary turned the rental car into the driveway next to the house and turned off the ignition.  He sat a few minutes to look at the place he was raised.  It was white now, with red trimmed windows.  He looked at the upper window that was the one to his room and smiled.  He looked to the front of the house and up to the small round window at the second level and remembered that was where his sister would have looked out onto the world.  His attention was diverted to the front door as his Mom stepped out and waved at him.  He waved back.

To be continued…

Hello Dear Friends!  I hope you are well and safe.  One thing that the pandemic has done for me is doing this: for two hours every day I write.  So far, I have completed two stories that I have shared with you: The Flock and Candlelight.  I hope you have read and enjoyed them.  Please let me know what you thought of them.

  I am beginning a third story for you called “It’s Only a Game”. Here is a little background for you.  In 1972, the fall of my senior year of high school,  I was privileged to be a member of the first team in the history of Hazelwood High School to become the state of Missouri’s High School Football Co-champions.  In the title game, we tied, 6 – 6, with Kansas City Southwest.  Because of that outcome, the state changed the format to determine only one champion by implementing an overtime process. 

It was a wild and fun experience for me.  I am telling you this because the setting of this story; St. Louis County, Hazelwood High School, and Spanish Lake, are real places but the story is totally made up.  I am also sharing my experience being on the team, but the story, itself, is made up.  My big moment playing on the team is portrayed because my friends constantly remind me of what they remember about it but the story is made up.     The people involved are not real people but may be based on real people.  The incident is totally made up, too.  It never happened.  Remember, the goal of my writing is to provide feel good stories to you, Dear Friends, so at the end of it, I hope you feel good about it.

  One last thing before I introduce the Main character of “It’s Only a Game”.  I really, really do appreciate you reading my stories and I would like to receive any feedback you may offer to me about my stories and “My First Stories” blog site.  To provide me that feedback use the Contact Me or Comments page of the Blog Site or give me a comment on Facebook.  The best way is to become one of my Followers.  I know reading each chapter and previous chapters of a story can be frustrating.  I am looking for ways to provide you with a better way to read them.  Be patient with me, Dear Friends, and I hope you keep reading the stories anyway.  Thank you…Thank you…Thank you!

  “It’s Only a Game” will have many characters because it does include being on a football team.  With that in mind, the story is the reminiscing of the two main characters, Gary Jackson and Janet Saunders, at a 20 year reunion of the Class of 1973.  Here are the remaining characters:

Gary Jackson

• Ronald – Father
• Julie – Mother
• Chris – Brother
• Katelyn – Sister
• Mark – Brother

Janet Saunders

• Richard – Father
• Martha – Mother
• Barbara – Sister

Football Teammates

Defensive Backs

• Nick Smith (Smitty)
• Tim Blake
• Andy Simpson
• Rick Meyers
• Matt Jones (Jonesy)
• Ron Templeton

Other Notable Teammates

• Dan Masters – Quarterback (Also Khoury League Baseball Teammate (Father
• Clyde was the baseball manager))
• Ron Lumberjack – Linebacker (Also Neighborhood Group)
• Stan Bennett – Wide Receiver
• Paul Baker – The Star – Running Back
• Denny Hackett – Running Back
• Jim Thompson – Fullback (Also Neighborhood Group/Khoury League Baseball Teammate)
• Sam Strange – Tight End/Bench Partner

Neighborhood Group

• Harold Garner – Old Neighborhood
• Allison Masters – New Neighborhood
• Jim O’Brien
• Robert Carrico
• Calvin White – Next Door Neighbor in new neighborhood
• Also Janet Saunders, Ron Lumberjack, Jim Thompson

Mike and Louise Kerls were in their car driving from Anna Dell’s graduation celebration at the University of Missouri at Columbia.  They were honored to see her receive her degree in Social Work. The sunlight followed them through the trees that lined the road into town, their home of Candlelight.  Mike pulled the car to a quiet stop at the intersection at the entrance to town.  Barber’s Bakery was sitting to their right, caddy corner from where they paused at the stop sign.  Across the street stood The Lighthouse, the former Kerls’ Gas Station and Mini mart, with its tall eternal Christmas tree standing at the corner of the parking lot.  Mike knew that Abe was working there, always diligent of the both sides of the store, mini-mart and thrift store. 

  As they looked straight ahead, the Candle Factory stood tall at the end of the road.  A new building has been erected on the other side of The Lighthouse’s parking lot where Dell’s Farmer’s Market is established, across the street from the grocery store and next to the Candle Factory.  It is a two-story brick fronted building that served many purposes.  At street level, a non-profit organization called Going Forward, offers job training services for those in need.  It has four classrooms and offices for counseling and other social services.  The second-floor apartments are available for families transitioning to places of their own.  In the basement, a gym, offering personal trainers, is open for use by anyone in Candlelight.  The building is called Bright Lights.

  “Which way do you want to go home,” Mike asked his wife. “The long way through town or the quicker way past Mary’s Memory Care?”

  “Let’s go by Mary’s,”  Lou answered him, leaning back in her seat. “I’m getting tired.”

  “Right,” Mike replied as he turned the car right to head toward home.  On the left, they pass the football field and stop at another stop sign   As they slowly start forward again, the trees on their right display their leaves, early summer green, stand tall and show little movement as they pass the Candlelight High School on their left.  The car, again, stops at yet another stop sign adjacent to Mary’s Memory Care and Retirement Center on their right and the Candlelight City Park on their left.  Mike sighed as they slowly began again.

  “What is it now?” Louise asked recognizing his sigh.

  “Why are there so many stop signs on this road now?” Mike responded to her by asking a question. “I remember a time, not too long ago, where we could just fly down this road.”

  “Well,” Lou began to answer him as they passed the park, the retirement center and were slowing for yet another stop sign.  “One reason is that there are kids that run around here, and another reason is that new building over there.”

  Mike looked where she was pointing.  An additional building was being built next to Mary’s Memory Care.  A big sign was posted on the roadside displaying a picture of what the new building was envisioned to look like, a four-story structure.  It will also be a brick fronted building to match the other buildings on Main Street.  The lettering on the sign said, “Coming in the Fall – Kristy’s Helping Hand – A Place to Stay the Night and Have a Meal – a Candlelight Fuller Fund Project”.  Behind the sign the structure is well on its way to completion, the building standing tall with a half complete parking lot currently filled with trucks and vans,  On the sides of the vehicles clever signs and logos displaying electric and plumbing contractors who were inside the building working away.

  “Robert Fuller has really kept his word about improving this town.  He has funded the thrift store at the Lighthouse.  He has built Bright Lights and now Kristy’s,” Mike simply stated

  “It is all a good thing and this entire town is improving, too,” Louise reached over and took his hand in hers.  “What do you think Kristy would say?”

  Mike turned left and then another quick left into the driveway at the first house on the right.  They were home.  The front door faced the park, the back door faced more trees and beyond that, a farm.  He turned the key in the ignition to the off position and the engine silenced itself.

  “I think she would say.”  Mike started to sing, and Louise started to laugh. “Joy to the world, the Lord has come, let earth receive her king.”

The End – Gregory Jenkins – Candlelight – July 1 – September 5, 2020

Louise Barber woke up and pulled her comforter up to her chin.  She stared up at the ceiling as her first thought turned to Mike Kerls.  Boy, the last twenty-four hours were a whirlwind of events with the hustle and bustle of final preparations to the mini mart, the busy-ness of the bakery preparing food to take to Mary’s Memory Care, and the Christmas Eve Service and events that followed it.  The one thing she was focusing on was Mike Kerls and their first kiss in the Catholic church.  Her clock alarm sounded, and she reached over and turned it off.  When she returned her arm to the warmth beneath the comforter, she realized the eerie silence.  The air was quiet in her room.  Something that had become natural was missing, the singing of Kristy rising from across the street below her bedroom.  She abruptly threw the comforter aside to hurriedly rise from her bed and quickly walk toward her window.  She drew the window curtain aside to look out.  The sky was graying toward sunrise to reveal a thin dusting of snow that had fallen overnight but her eyes were drawn to an amazing, unusual sight.  She turned away from the window, grabbed her robe from the back of the bedroom door and left the room to make a phone call.

***

Paul was leaning against his car waiting for James to join him.  The sky was a pale yellow revealing a thin fog of morning dew.  The snow highlighted the neighborhood trees and bushes appearing to him to look like a still-life painting hanging in the writing studio of some unknown author.  He smiled.  He felt good about himself again.  He had a purpose again.  God had helped him; Kristy had helped him, and it felt as his life is only beginning.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” James interrupted Paul’s thoughts.  He was walking up the driveway toward the passenger side of the car.

  “I was just thinking that God is good,” Paul said as he opened the door to the driver’s seat.

  The two men almost simultaneously shut their car doors and Paul started the ignition.

  “So, Paul, what is going on at the mini mart that we have to go at dawn on Christmas morning?” the priest asked his friend directly.

***

Mike waited in the living room of his grandfather’s home.  His mother insisted they include Robert Fuller in this early morning adventure.  Fortunately, he was up but still in his pajamas when he let them inside the house.  Samantha explained the situation and he agreed that he would like to join them.  Mike noticed a phone sitting on a coffee table and he decided to call Abe.  He waited as the call was picked up on the third ring.

  “Merry Christmas!” Abe answered and Mike heard a commotion of sound emerge from his earpiece.

  “Merry Christmas, Abe.  It’s me, Mike.”

  “I know your voice.  What’s up?” Abe raised his voice over the racket behind him.

  “What’s going on over there?” Mike asked him.

  “Santa Claus, you fool!  Wait ‘til you have kids,” Abe reminded him.  “So what’s up?”

  “I got a call from Lou this morning.  Something weird happened at the store.”

  “What?” Abe asked him quizzically.

  “She wouldn’t say.  We are on the way over there if you wanted to join us,” Mike told him.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Abe said, and he hung up the phone.

*** 

The minister’s car had just passed them as Mike waited at the end of Robert Fuller’s driveway to back into the street.  He eased out into the street, slowly braked, and shifted the car into drive.  As the car started forward, he glanced at the rearview mirror to see a pickup truck following him.  He recognized the driver as Richard Dell and his daughter was sitting next to him in the passenger seat.  The caravan of three vehicles slowly maneuvered around the corner before the Candle Factory to head into the straight road into town.  Mike noticed in the distance on the corner of his store’s parking lot; a tall fir tree rose.  The occupants of the car erupted into a chattering of noise.

  “What is that?” Samantha asked.

  “It is a tree Mom.  You can see that, right?” Mike responded sarcastically.

  “Where did it come from?” Robert Fuller asked aloud.

  “I am sure I don’t know,” Mike answered him in the same sarcastic manner.  He turned into the lot and saw Lou watching them as she stood on the corner beside the tree.  He continued to a parking space at the front of the store, braked, and shifted the car into the park position.  The engine had barely silenced when two of the four car doors opened and two of the members of the car exited it.  Mike slowly opened his car door and he followed them.  From the blue car parked next to him, two men joined him.  The truck that was following him parked nearer to the tree.

  He turned toward the tree and paused to observe it for the first time.  It was tall, at least forty-foot-tall, rounded at the bottom, less rounded in the middle, and slowly reaching toward the sky with a single branch emitting from the very top.  He was puzzled then as he looked at that branch at the very top and noticed a star ornament perched there.  He walked to join the crowd now gathering around the tree’s base.

  “What do you think of this?” Lou walked toward him.

  “Well, I don’t know.  Did you ask Kristy?” Mike asked as he stopped near her, still looking up.

  “That’s just it, Mike. She isn’t here,” Lou answered him.  “Do you see what’s on the tree branches?”

  “Looks like candles,”  Paul answered for Mike as he and James joined the couple.  “They seemed to be lit, too.”

  Abe was there now, arriving unnoticed.  Mark watched as his co-worker and Anna Dell stepped up to the tree to look more closely at the candles.  Anna reached in to extract one from its place on a branch.

  “There is a name on it,” she called out as she held it in her hand.  “It says Robert Fuller on it.”

  “Robert Fuller?” the Candlelight Factory owner asked as he stepped up to join her.

  “What’s going on?” Mike asked as he stepped closer to the tree and slowly walked around it, leading a small contingent of characters with him. 

  He knew it was a Fraser fir, his favorite type of Christmas tree.  He didn’t know if they ever got this large but here it stood on the corner of his parking lot.  He also noticed hundreds of lit candles throughout the tree branches.  He identified them as battery powered like the ones that were used at the previous night’s church service.  Near the front of the tree, closest to the street, the black kettle still stood waiting for a handout.  Inside the black pot, peaking out above the rim, was a rolled sheet of paper.  Mike stopped there and looked around at the group following him.  He saw the faces of Lou, Paul, and James nearest him.  Behind them were his Mom and her father, Robert, and behind them was Farmer Dell, Anna, and his buddy Abe.  They were waiting for him to do something.  He withdrew the rolled paper from the kettle.  It was tied together with green and red ribbon.  He slowly slid the paper trough the loop the ribbon made and slowly unrolled the sheet of paper.  He began to read the writing on it to himself.

  “Read it out loud Michael,” his Mother instructed him.  “We want to know what it says, too.”

  “You are right, Mom,” he agreed and paused before he began to read again.

  “Dear Candlelight!” he said.  “I am so immensely proud of you!  In a truly short period of time you have become, as Pastor Paul says, a lighthouse of hope for all people around you.  Let your light shine for all to see.  So that you won’t miss me very much, I have left you this tree, this Christmas Tree, in the very spot I stood and sang for you, as a living testament to your willingness to do good things for others. Every candle on this tree represents every person in Candlelight and as long as you continue to be a beacon of hope to others, the candles will be lit now and forever.  I love you all.  Your forever angel, Kristy.”

  The crowd around him stood in silence letting the words Mike just read to them sink in.  They slowly looked at each other and looked at the tree again.  The candles seemed to shine a little brighter but maybe it was just the sunshine that had erupted over the horizon through a gap in the cloud cover that brightened the scene.

  “O little town of Candlelight,” Anna began to sing, her voice as sharp and clear as Kristy’s.  “how still we see thee lie…”

  The others began to join her as they continued to sing the town’s new theme song, “Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in the dark streets shineth, the everlasting light, the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”

To be continued…

Robert Fuller stood in front of the floor length standing mirror his late wife had placed in the corner of the bedroom.  He was dressing to attend the traditional Candlelight Christmas Eve Service that was held at the Catholic Church.  He had not attended the event in a long, long time.  He decided to wear his jet-black tuxedo and smiled at himself in the mirror.  He finished buttoning his shirt and walked to his dresser where he had placed two cuff links.  He picked them up and returned to the mirror.  He was happy, well, happier than he was a few weeks ago.  He looked at the items in his hand.  Anne had given them to him when he first purchased the tuxedo.  They were silver with a large monogram of the letter “F” centered on each of them.  He remembered asking her, ‘Why silver?’, and her reply, ‘To match the streaks in your hair’.  He chuckled to himself as he pushed the clasp through the buttonholes of his shirt sleeve cuffs and affixed the links.  When he finished, he smoothed his shirt and reassessed his image in the mirror.  He turned to his bed and sat to reach down and put on his extra shiny jet-black shoes.  He stood again and reached for the jacket that had been carefully placed on the bed.  The doorbell rang at that moment, so he folded the jacket over his arm, took one last look at himself in the mirror and left the room, switching off the overhead light as he did so.

  He bounded down the stairs two at a time and opened the door.  He paused as he stared at the occupants standing there.  Two women stood side by side, one wearing a brown winter coat and a scarf wrapped and tucked inside, beneath her chin.  He looked at Samantha Kerls and grinned.  He turned his grin toward the other woman standing next to Samantha.  He was happy to see his other daughter, Renee, looking up at him.  She looked eerily like her mother, tall with jet-black hair.  Standing behind his two daughters was a tall, black man holding a toddler in his arms.

  “Hi, Dad,” Renee spoke and redirected his attention to her.  When he did, she smiled again.

  “Forgive me for my manners,” Robert said suddenly beginning to act.  “Please come in.”

  He stepped aside and Samantha led the entourage into the foyer where they all huddled at the doorway.

  “Please go into the living room.  I am sure you remember where that is.  It is in the same place it has always been,” Robert instructed.  “I am so happy to see you!  Why are you here and who is this guy?”

  “Dad,” Samantha spoke first .  “I have been worrying about you.  I have been seeing you strolling around town.  I asked Renee to come into town because you needed to meet her husband, Howard, and your grandson, Hank.  I thought you needed something.  We do miss you, the old you anyway,”

  “How about a new me?”  Robert responded.  “I have had a visit from Kristy, and she suggested I walk around and get to know Candlelight again.”

  “Kristy?” Renee asked.  Samantha just smiled.

***

Two yellow Candlelight school busses pulled into the parking lot of Mary’s Memory Care and Retirement Center.  They are the total number of busses used by the school district.  Mike exited the lead bus and headed toward the doors of the building when they opened before he got to them.  Marvel Johnson walked out and held the door open to allow for the stream of people who exited the building that began to meander out into the parking lot.  A few of the center’s employees were pushing people in wheelchairs and a few others walked beside individuals with walkers.  The crowd of about two dozen people milled around the entrance waiting for instructions.  Marvel closed the door behind them and pulled her coat together, leaving it unbuttoned, holding it together with her gloved hands and turned toward Mike.  Mike nodded when he realized the instructions would be coming from him.

  “Hello everyone,”  he began as he looked at the people standing before him.  There stood a mix of men, women and children dressed in various states of dress with one thing in common; they were bundled up for the crisp, cold air of December.  “My name is Mike and why are we standing out here in the cold?  Let’s get on a bus to go to church.”

  A mock cheer erupted from the ensemble and they streamed for the yellow vehicles. Mike hung back and waited for Marvel.  When she was beside him, he asked her, “Well, how did it go?”

  “Pretty good.  They seemed appreciative of the bakery items, coffee, and punch but a few of them are still a little pessimistic.  They gave me that ‘what do you want from me?’ vibe.”

  “We don’t want anything from them,” Mike said to her as they walked closer to the busses.

  “Thank you Captain Obvious,” Marvel chuckled at him.  “Boy, are they going to be surprised, Michael.”

  He smiled at her and they separated ways as they boarded separate busses.  Mike stepped up the three steps and sat in the seat behind the driver and patted his shoulder.  The driver closed the door, put the vehicle in gear and began to move toward the parking lot’s exit.  As it turned left onto the road to head toward the Catholic church, Mike stood and faced the people in the bus.  He knew the same thing was happening in the other bus only Marvel was standing where he stood to speak.  He gazed at them, trying to look at each of them at the same time.  He was thinking of what they were doing for these people, offering them a little kindness, a little help along the way.  He smiled.

  “Hi again.  I am going to let you know what is going to happen when we get to church.  We are going to the Catholic church because of the two churches in town, it is the largest and we, the people of Candlelight, traditionally have a combined service there.  You are our guests.  We have placed you in seats of honor in the front of the sanctuary, the first two rows on the right side of the room.  I know for some of you that will seem awkward.  I do not like to sit in the front when I go to church either, but we felt it was the best way to place you all together.  We hope you enjoy the service.”

  He sat down and looked out the window as they passed Kerls’ Gas Station and Mini-Mart.  The lights inside the building were on but at the front corner of the entrance stood the kettle, alone in the dark.  He smiled to himself and faced forward to look out the front of the bus.  It continued around the curve in the road in front of the Candle Factory and turned onto the road beside the two churches finally coming to a stop.  The driver opened the door and Mike led his busload of riders off the bus.  They joined the others that were stepping off the second bus to gather in the street.  When the wheelchair riders and individuals needing walkers were ready, Marvel placed her fingers to her lips and whistled.

  When all eyes were fixed on her, she said,  “Follow me.”  She began to walk toward a side door that led into the building.  The crowd of people shuffled behind her, following in a long line except for Mike who turned and headed toward the front door.  He plodded along the street and crossed to a sidewalk that led to the steps at the front of the church.  He bounded up the few steps and opened the door to enter the front lobby.  Waiting for him, just inside the door, was Lou wearing a green dress.  Mike stopped when he saw her.  Her hair was down, parted in the middle, the left side behind her shoulder and flowing down and settling in front on her right.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You look beautiful,” Mike softly responded.

  “Really?” she stepped toward him, stopped directly in front of him, and looked up at him.  He bent to her and kissed her.  They separated and stood looking at each other.

  “That was our first kiss,” Mike whispered to her.

  “Was it?  It was pretty nice,” she whispered back.  “Let’s go to church.”

  She intertwined an arm into one of his and they walked into the sanctuary.  The Catholic Church’s worship area was different than the one across the street at the Methodist Church.  The room was divided by two aisles instead of one allowing for three seating sections.  The altar area was similar to the one at the Methodist Church, but it was on a stage above the seating area.  Two podiums stood on each corner of it with the altar centered between them.  The lectern on the left was where Father Dooley would station himself and a wooden chair fitted with crimson padding waited for him.  Two similar chairs were placed behind the sister lectern on the right, one for the acolyte and the other for the liturgist.  Behind the altar, three pews of a choir loft waited for the vocalists to position themselves to join the service.  Across the wall behind the altar were organ pipes fitted into three section.  The sections of the left and right mirrored each other, five pipes peaking in the middle.  The center section consisted of twelve larger pipes that came together pointing to the heavens.  Hanging from the ceiling was a large crucifix with the suffering Christ’s arms stretched out for all to see.  Along the outer walls of the sanctuary, stained glass windows depicted the twelve stations of the cross.  A single candle, a flickering flame burning in each, was centered on the ledge below each window.

  In the far-right section, the patrons from the busses were being seated.  Marvel stood at the end of the two pews that were being used for them.  Mike and Lou walked down the aisle closest to them and entered the pew to sit behind them.  When they were seated, Mike looked around the room.  On the far left, Richard Dell sat alone in the center of the pews positioned there.  Mike smiled because he knew where Richard’s daughter was at the time.  He then noticed his mother sitting center stage with his Aunt Renee and her family.  He also spied a man in a black tuxedo sitting between the two women and he was really surprised that his grandfather, Robert Fuller, was also in the audience.  He abruptly turned his head forward and his mind was puzzled.  He looked back to see the three of them laugh together.

  “What’s wrong?” Lou asked him in a whispered voice.

  “Nothing,” he quickly responded to her and looked down at his hands.  Lou intertwined her fingers into the hand closest to her.  He turned his head to look at her. 

“I will tell you later,” he smiled at her.   “I promise.”  She squeezed his hand in response.

  A door opened on the left of the stage and a woman with shoulder length blond hair in a long ruby red robe emerged.  She closed the door behind her, turned, and began to walk across the stage.  The crowd became quiet and her high heels clicking her final steps across the stage could be heard.  She climbed down three steps and seemed to disappear from view until only her head reappeared.  At the same time, the opening chords to Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus sounded from the pipes behind the choir loft.

  “Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Halle – lu – jah” voices began to join the woman playing the hidden organ in the corner.  As they sang, the combined choir of the Methodist and Catholic churches of Candlelight began to process down the aisles and edges of the sanctuary.  The audience rose as it was the tradition to do so when this anthem was performed.  The blended voices gloriously filled the air, and everyone listened, and some, sang along, but all grinned with joy.  Mike watched as the choir passed them, walking toward the stage, stepping up and filing into the choir loft.  Suddenly, Mike could hear one, clear familiar voice above the rest and he looked toward it.

  “The kingdom of this world…” the curly haired Kristy, in a ruby red robe, was marching down the center aisle.  She was being followed by an acolyte holding a long pole, a curved bell on one side and a flickering flame burning from a wick on the straight side of it.  Behind them, walking side by side, entered the priest and the pastor.  The choir was positioned in their space, the acolyte had lighted the two candles on the altar and extinguished the wick of his candlelighter, and the two men stood behind their appropriate lecterns, as the final chord was played sending the last echo of music to the sky.  The audience began to applaud loudly.

  “As you can tell, this year’s Christmas Eve service is going to be a little different,” Father Dooley announced.  “Since we are already standing, please pass the peace of Christ to those around you.”

  Again, the space filled with sound as the congregants turned to greet each other.  Eventually, the buzz was slowly silenced by the voice of the priest asking them to please be seated.  The sound of rustling clothes replaced voices as the audience sat down as one.

  “Welcome, welcome,” Father Dooley began again. “Sitting over there, across from me is my good friend and fellow cleric, Pastor Paul, and, together, he and I welcome you to the Candlelight’s Christmas Eve Service.”

  At that moment, a piano that always stood beside the organ and also hidden from the congregation’s view, began to play another tune.  With its opening sounds, the choir rose to its feet and began to sing “What Child is this?”  The audience listened and Mike took the opportunity to look around the room again.  The place seemed to be completely full.  Well, not completely, he thought to himself.  His buddy Abe was missing because he was busy at the store getting ready for the next step in this evening’s service.  He also knew that a group of young adults, led by Anna Dell, weren’t attending because they were also at the mini mart.

  “Now,” Father Dooley stated as the choir resettled in their seats. “Pastor Paul will share with us today’s Bible reading.  Paul.”

  Paul rose from his chair and placed his Bible on the lectern before him.   He surveyed the people sitting before him and he opened the book.  He cleared his throat.  Everyone waited. 

  “I would like to begin by asking the following people to stand.  Mike Kerls, Louise Barber, Samantha Kerls, Marvel Johnson, Father James Dooley, Richard Dell and a girl called Kristy.”  He waited as they all stood up from the places they were sitting.

 “And there are a few people not here at the moment, but you will see soon,” he continued.  “Abe Miller and Anna Dell, with a bunch of talented teenagers who we couldn’t have done what I am about to announce, without them.  Before I read today’s bible verses of Jesus’ birth, I would like to announce the opening of a place of hope for those in need.  In need of clothes, of food, of a place to get warm.  Thanks to Mike and Samantha Kerls, they have remodeled their store to include a place to offer those things.  Mary’s Memory Care and Retirement Center has opened their doors to offer a place for those who need to get in from the cold.  I do not know if you knew this but, in the woods, just beyond the retirement center, a group of people live there in tents.  We honor them today.” he said as he pointed in their direction to his left.  They returned his reference by squirming uneasily in their seats.

  “I met them because of Kristy, and it was she who showed me my purpose, your purpose, here in Candlelight.  To help those in need.  Here, in front of me, sit those families and today they are our guests.  Father Dooley opened this service saying this will be an unusual one and it will be.  After I read from the gospel of Luke, the choir will lead us out of the building and through our streets to Kerls’ Gas Station and Mini-mart to dedicate this new adventure for Candlelight.  Please stand in respect for the gospels.”

  When everyone stood, the pastor read the Luke 2, verses 1 – 20.  As he finished, Father Dooley walked to the center of the stage and Pastor Paul joined him.  The choir began to sing “O Come all Ye Faithful, joyful and triumphant…”  as they began to file out, heading to the front doors of the church.  Slowly, the congregation began to sing along and slowly file out of the room.  As they exited, the ushers handed each person a battery powered candle. 

  The two friends, James Dooley and Paul Brown, had remained on stage and were joined by Kristy.  Marvel led the guests of honor to join the crowd leaving the building.  One of the members from the retirement center who had come along to help, guided the Memory Care residents in wheelchairs and walkers out the side door apparently to get back on the busses that had brought them there.  The people who Paul called out remained standing, joined by Robert Fuller, waiting for the two men and one woman to exit the stage.  When they came down from the stage, together the group walked up their respective aisles to exit the building to join the exodus to the mini mart.

  “Here we go,” Mike muttered as they grabbed their coats and went through the front doors of the church.  The guests of honor headed toward the busses alongside the building and boarded them.  The tiny group of men and women who had the idea and made it grow boarded the second one.  The two ministers sat together directly behind the driver and Marvel sat across the aisle from them.  Mike and Lou sat behind Marvel while his Mother and Robert Fuller continued deeper into the bus.  Just as the driver began to close the door another figure jumped up the steps.  It was Richard Dell and he sat next to Marvel.  The door closed and the bus slowly began to roll following the one in front of them. 

  “Where’s Kristy?” Mike asked the group.  They looked around at each other suddenly realizing that she was not with them.  The bus was quiet as it turned right and slowly passed the entourage walking on one side of the road.  They were singing “O little town of Candlelight, how still we see thee lie…”  There in the middle of the group walking with them was Kristy, singing along with them.  Sitting beside Mike, Lou began to softly join their song, ”Above the deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by…”  In the back of the bus another voice, Samantha’s, joined her and soon the entire busload was singing together.

  The yellow vehicles pulled into the parking lot ahead of the group marching along the street opposite it.  As they unloaded, Pastor Paul and Father Dooley shepherded everyone to stand near the empty kettle at the entrance to the gas station.  The busses drove off the lot, one to the left and the other to the right, each stopping at the intersections of the nearest streets to create an area for the congregation to gather in front of the mini mart.  From inside the store, a small group of people came outside to join the others waiting in the parking lot for the larger group of marchers to join them.  A subset of the group, all teenagers, spread out behind the main group, while Abe and Anna walked to stand beside Mike and Lou.  The two men smiled at each other as the two women hugged each other.  Samantha and her father stood off to the side.  The group of young adults began to clap, a slow rhythmic clap, clap, clap.

  “C’mon! Clap everyone!” Eric, the obvious leader of the pack, called out.  Slowly, the others began to join them.  Clap, clap, clap.

  Emerging between the grocery store and the barber shop, the marching mob turned toward the store.  They were singing the chorus of the First Noel, “No-o-el, no-el, no-o-el, no-el, born is the ki-ng of I-is-ra-el.”  When the last chord ended, a loud cheer erupted from everyone in the street and in the parking lot.  Pastor Paul raised his hands to quiet the crowd.  Kristy crossed the street and joined the group of kids standing behind them.

  “That was wonderful,” Paul announced, and another cheer rose into the sky.  “We brought you here for a reason.“  He turns to the people he had asked to join them from the woods to address them, “Honored guests, on behalf of the people of Candlelight, inside this store you will find donated clothes and items for you to take and use to make your way easier.  Along with that, in the spring, a Farmer’s Market will be available in this parking lot.  Mary’s Memory Care and Retirement Center will be open for you to get out of the cold and to offer you a meal.  Candlelight will be a lighthouse to help you, and anyone who is need, find their way to a better place.”

  Again, a cheer rose from the crowd as the honored guests ran into the crowd and to the others in the parking lot.

  “Joy to the world, the lord has come.  Let earth receive her king!” Kristy began to sing and behind her the choir of young people joined in singing the tune.  The crowd quieted and listened to the acapella group.  When the song ended, they erupted once again into a loud roar of approval.  The chant of “more, more, more” began and the choir huddled together.  As they unfolded and were getting back into formation, Robert Fuller stepped forward.

  “Excuse me!” he yelled above the noise of the crowd.  “Excuse me!” 

  The crowd slowly settled, and he began to speak again.  “Hello, many of you know me but for those who do not, I am Robert Fuller and I own the Candle Factory.  I know you have not seen much of me over the past couple of years since my wife died but Kristy, the bell ringer, advised me to walk around Candlelight to get to know it again.  I followed her advice and was having a hard time finding anything good in it…until now.  I pledge to all of you that I will be a better person to you and this town of Candlelight.  Thank you, Kristy. Thank you, God.  What we have been introduced to tonight, to be a lighthouse for those in need, has inspired me.  In my hand , I hold a quarter that represents $50,000 dollars, that I am giving toward this effort. It will be only the beginning of funding that will be used exclusively to expand this effort, this lighthouse.  Pastor Paul, Father Dooley, Marvel Johnson, Farmer Dell, Louise Barber, Abraham Miller, my daughter Samantha, my grandson, Michael Kerls, and all of you who have provided donations of clothing and food, I honor you by cheerfully, dropping this coin into the bell ringer’s kettle.”

  Robert Fuller stepped up to the kettle and dropped the quarter into it and said,
“Praise be to God! Candlelight let your light shine!”

  Another cheer rose into the air and the crowd converged on the parking lot to surround the honorees and then they streamed into the store to see the enhancements.  Only Kristy remained outside walking to the kettle and she reached inside it to remove her bell.   Up and down the street the lampposts, strategically placed twelve feet apart were lit with brightly shining candlelight.  She smiled.  She looked up to the sky and began to raise her arms up and down to ring her bell to pace a tune in her mind.  She slowly began to sing her theme song, “Joy to the world, the Lord has come.  Let earth receive her King.” *�

To be continued…