Seven Days In December
I park my car in line at my granddaughter's school one hour before time to pick her up, walk past the K-mart to Arby's and sit to drink coffee and wait. I have never been late to pick her up since that one time when Maddie cried.
Last Monday (12-06-10) on my way to Arby's I passed a guy ringing the bell for the Salvation Army in front of K-mart. On the way back, I dropped him off a cup of coffee. Ain't I a peach?
On my left as I walked back to the car, I spotted a herd, a pride, a coven or maybe a litter of black and gray kittens. They were pitiful wild specimens who were sitting in the sun trying to stay warm. Ribs poked through fur as they stared at me while I walked by. I counted six but there were probably more hiding in the woods.
Can you imagine what the people in line at Maddie's school thought Tuesday? Besides my usual shoulder bag with this iPad in it, I carried a large Cool Whip container overflowing with food for those stupid cats.
I say stupid because I don't even particularly like cats. Ah oh, there go about half of my demented followers here on hub pages! I'm a dog guy, a car guy and a motorcycle guy. Dogs chase, or in Tobys case bark unrelentingly all night, at cats. Cats sit on cars and motorcycles as if they didn't care about leaving footprints all over them. They won't come to you when you call them yet they are always underfoot if you don't want them around.
I dropped the food off and only two of the crowd was there. When I walked back by thirty-five minutes later, there were four. Now what? Should I continue to drop food every couple of days until the guys in the white coats and the net grab me?
Late on Tuesday afternoon I had a treat in store. Jana Mashonee’s American Indian Christmas arrived in the mail. I listened to it and then was inspired to write a hub about it. I got a couple of hundred hits on it the first day. Most of them came from Jana’s facebook page where she had kindly linked it.
On Wednesday I got a personal note from Jana by way of my Hubpages account thanking me for my hub. So I pressed my luck and asked her for some places to find reference material on Native Americans and the Lumbee Tribe in particular.
I got a second email straight from Jana on Thursday. She recommended I search on “The Trail of Tears” and a couple of others. I did. Just what an old white man needed: another part of history to be ashamed of. I am.
- Jana Mashonee, American Indian Christmas
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On Thursday I went to see Maddie preform in a Christmas music program at one of the local churches. She played the hand bells and sang.
On Saturday night my granddaughter and wife were in the Christmas Parade. So was anyone else who owned a tractor or could pull a wagon! I nearly froze to death getting a couple of terrible pictures. Priceless.
This Monday about noon a cold wind was blowing when I dropped in to my local Walmart.
In the toy section I found the last Littlest Pets Shop Rescue Tails Center. It was on my list to get for my granddaughter, Abbie. I happily added it to my buggy, continued shopping and occasionally I wandered away to scoot down one aisle or another.
When I realized that someone had taken the toy out of my buggy I was angrier than I have been in a very long time. I understand theft and can sympathize with someone who needs food or shelter badly enough to resort to stealing. This was different.
I spent the next twenty minutes searching frantically up and down the aisles with a look on my face about like the one Robert Dinero wore in Taxi Driver.
"You talkin' to me?"
Fortunately for both of us, I never located the he, she or it that took the toy.
I feel sorry for the child that receives that toy from the demented soul who took it from my cart. That person can't be much of a role model. I wish the child a sincere Merry Christmas.
A cold wind still blew as I walked back to my car without the toy my granddaughter wanted for Christmas. My wish for the person who took it is that they find themselves in a warmer place... considerably warmer.
I told Maddie about the loss of Abbie's present and later repeated the story to her parents. I told the parents that I what I said when I discovered the missing toy but I use the acronym. Maddie thought about what I spelled and then her face lit up and in her eight year old way she said:
"You said sob, Pop?"
I am a blessed man.
Oh well, this afternoon I will feed the stupid cats behind K-mart again and get the Salvation Army guy a cup of coffee. Ain’t I a peach?
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