Category Archives: teenagers

The Portal – Part II

08 Tuesday Oct 2024

Posted by in detective stories, families, Fiction, FRIENDSHIP, kids, mystery, teenagers

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(Jeremy and Samuel continue their journey with the Portal.)

Jeremy stared at his hands and then the picture and shook his head. Wow! This is something! The first instinct was to run to mother and tell her about the picture.

No, she’ll just take it down and give it to dad and then he will send it back to Uncle Al. Maybe, not just yet.

“Samuel, I’m in here,” he yelled. 

His younger brother appeared around the corner looking frustrated. 

“Jeremy, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Mom wants to go to the store.”

“Store, ah, sure. Let’s go.” Jeremy hustled his brother out of the room and glanced back nervously at the picture. To his relief, it had returned to its dull brown color. No hint of the neon glow was visible.

                                                            #

Later, that evening, Jeremy sat on his bed and stared at the picture a long time. Getting up he went into the kitchen. Mom was making dinner.

“Mom, where is that envelope the picture came in?”

“I think I put it in the paper recycle bin. In the garage.”

Jeremy opened the door to the garage and went out. The three bins were lined up like waiting soldiers against the wall. The green bin for garden stuff, the blue for recycle and the grey for regular trash.

He pushed the lid open and peered inside. On the top of a bunch of paper, sat the yellow envelope. He pulled it out and looked at it.

The envelope was addressed to him which was surprising. He hardly knew his uncle Al and had maybe met him only a couple of times. Seemed like the guy was always busy off somewhere, doing something. Not much time for family visits.

The labels on the envelope were hand written in black ink. There was his name, Jeremy Beans and their address. In the left corner it read: Dr. Alfred Beans, Kitt Pk., Tohono O’odham Nation.

What the heck? Jeremy thought to himself. Something to do with kittens?

He didn’t want to ask too many questions in case his parents decided It Meant Something, and he had to start telling them more about the picture.

Mr. Beans got home with Tyler and they all sat down to their spaghetti dinner. Mrs. Beans poured herself and her husband each a glass of red wine.

“Ah, red wine,” Mr. Beans commented. He nodded to his wife, “good for the heart.”

“Yes, dear,” she replied with a smile.

“What kind of meat is this?” he asked her.

“85% lean from the health-food store.”

“Perfect,” he commented and dug in. “Looks like Tyler is well on his way to getting his science project underway for the next big school science fair. I think he is going to do us proud.”

Tyler said nothing and kept shoveling food onto his plate. Both his parents beamed at him. He ignored them.

“So, anything happen around here today while we were gone?”

“We got a picture from Uncle Al,” both Jeremy and Samuel said at the same time.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down. A picture? From my brother?” Disbelief showed on his face. “Alice?”

Alice Beans shrugged. “Some little brown thing that came in the mail. I don’t know. Maybe he is taking up art or something.”

“Art?” David Beans looked at his wife, incredulous. “Al doesn’t have an artistic bone….”

“Well, I don’t know,” his wife replied. “He’s your brother. I gave up trying to figure him out a long time ago.”

“Humpt.” David Beans got some French bread off the plate. “Maybe I’ll look at it after dinner.”

Jeremy dropped his fork, then picked it up. He didn’t want his dad to do something with the picture, like take it away. Glancing at himself in the mirror over the sideboard, he saw nervousness.  He was definitely going to have to keep his cool.

Later in Jeremy’s bedroom, they stood in front of the picture. Mr. Beans, Tyler, Jeremy and Samuel all stared at the little brownish square.

“So, what do you think it is?” Mr. Beans asked.

Jeremy gave a non-committal shrug and moved away. He plopped on his bed and picked up a baseball and started tossing it from hand to hand.

Tyler touched it and lifted it away from the wall, looked underneath and placed it back against the wall.

“It’s not a canvas, it’s much heavier.” He looked at his dad. “I could test it in my chem lab in the garage if you want.”

Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat.

“No, no,” David Beans waved his hands in the air. “Probably just some experiment my older brother was working on that didn’t work, and thinking it was kind of pretty,” he gave a little laugh, “thought our young man here might like it.”

Jeremy was studying his baseball closely. 

“But it’s not pretty,” Samuel added. “It’s ugly.”

“Well,” Mr. Beans shook his head, “gift horse and all that. The envelope, I understand, was addressed to you, Jeremy.” He turned and looked at his son. “You want to keep it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jeremy was casual, “something different.”

“Okay, then. Well, I think Mom has some dessert. Last one’s a rotten egg!”

The trio scooted out of the room quick march. Jeremy sat and stared at the picture. When he was sure they were gone, he got up slowly and walked over to the picture. He touched it with his forefinger. In that one little spot, a faint orange glow appeared and there was the slightest hum. He quickly pulled his hand away and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Next day, dad was back to work, and mom was busy in the kitchen with a shopping list. Her big purse was on the countertop with her keys and hot coffee mug. Her notebook with the list stuck out of the bag.

“Samuel, Jeremy, here please!”

The two shuffled lazily into the kitchen.

“Ok, it’s less than two weeks before school starts and I have to go get your supplies. Jeremy you still want the thin notebooks with the wire ring on the edge, right?”

He nodded at her.

“And Samuel, first day of first grade. How exciting! We’ll get you lots of crayons and colored pencils.” Samuel bobbed on his toes. “Now, Tyler is in charge when I am gone. Let’s not park in front of the TV all day, ok. Go outside and ride your bikes or something. Get some air.” She gathered up her stuff.

“Where’s Tyler, Mom?”

“He’s in the garage working on his project. Call if you really, really need something. If you’re good, I’ll get Subways for lunch.”

“Yay!” Sam jumped up and down.

“Okay, kiss, kiss.” She leaned down and kissed Sam. She tried to kiss Jeremy, but he leaned away at the last minute. “Okay, later.”

Jeremy stood at the glass slider and watched as his mom get into the SUV and pull out of the driveway. When she was gone he ambled out to the garage with Samuel at his heels.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked his older brother.

“Nothing you would have any interest in so scram,” Tyler turned back to a tiny arc welder and kept dripping bits of metal on a metal plate.

“Okay, well then we’re going down the street to see Sean.”

“Whatever,” his brother waved at him. “Don’t get killed.  And, don’t make me call an ambulance.”

“Sure,” Jeremy slowly left the garage, walked down the driveway, circled back to the front of the house and went back through a side door.

“I thought we were going to Sean’s,” Samuel complained. “I think they have a new puppy.”

“Be quiet.” Jeremy went back into the room he shared with Sam and closed the door. “Now you can’t tell anybody about this, okay. If you do, I’ll tell Mom and Dad it was you put the hamster in the toilet.”

“It was an accident,” his brother protested. “I was just trying to teach him to swim.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and then peeked out the door one more time to be sure Tyler wasn’t lurking in the hallway.

“Go sit down,” Jeremy pointed. Samuel sat on his bed.

Jeremy went over to the picture and laid his full hand on it. The picture immediately began to glow and hum.

“What’s that!” Samuel jumped off the bed.

“Shush, Tyler will hear you.” Jeremy put a finger to his lips. The size of the picture got bigger and the neon colors came back. The humming got louder.

“Come over here and hold my hand,” Jeremy held out his hand and the younger boy took it with reluctance. “Now hold on.”

Jeremy pushed against the portal and both boys fell through and landed on green grass.

“Wow! What just happened, where are we?” Samuel got up and turned around and around in amazement.

Jeremy got up and brushed himself off. The portal hung in the air and still glowed, but the humming was gone.

“Okay, let’s just use our scout skills like Dad taught us to map where we are so we don’t get lost coming back.” He looked up at the sky, the huge fluffy clouds were still there, moving lazily through blue sky with a slight wind. “The sun comes up in the east and sets in the west. Where’s the sun now, Samuel?”

“East?” The younger boy asked.

“That’s correct. It’s to our east. Let’s stack some rocks here just to make sure we know this is the spot. The lake should be over there through those little woods.

“Lake?”

“Yeah, it’s a big lake, very cool. Last time I was here, there was this ship…”

“You were here before?” an incredulous Samuel asked. “Ooo, you didn’t tell Mom and Dad, you are going to be in so much trouble….”

“Hey. I told you before, this is our little secret. I mean, it came from Uncle Al. How bad can it be?”

Samuel shook his head.

“So, what. You want to stay here and wait for me?”

“Well, no.”

“Alright then, let’s do these rocks and go.”

They made a small marker with stones like Mr. Beans had taught them.

That done, Jeremy set off at a brisk pace in the direction he remembered the lake to be. They got through a short grouping of trees and …

“There it is, just like I thought!” Jeremy grinned at his brother. They moved down toward the lake. The enormous fountain was still there, in the middle, spewing giant columns of white, foamy water.

They came to the edge of the water. Samuel leaned over and touched the surface.

“Oh, cold.”

They stood there and admired the beautiful blue surface and then, like the last time, a large, masted ship started to come around the fountain in their direction.

“Jeremy,” Sam pointed excitedly, “a boat, a boat!”

“It’s not a boat, stupid, it’s a ship. A three-master, in fact.”

They both watched astonished as the ship sailed, seemingly by itself, up to the beach where they stood.

There was a large rope hanging over the side.

“Look, Samuel, a rope. We can climb on that way.” Jeremy started to wade out into the water.

“What if we need a ticket and don’t have one? They might throw us off.”

“Oh, come on scaredy cat.”

“I’m not a scaredy cat.”

“Are too.”

“Look, Jeremy, there’s a little walkway.” Sam pointed.

A landing pier that Jeremy had not noticed before was to their right. It led right up to the ship’s side.

“Ok, come on then.”

They hurried over and ran down the pier. Jeremy pushed Samuel up the rope and climbed up after him. Pretty soon they were onboard. There didn’t appear to be anyone else there.

 “Look!” Jeremy yelled, “the steering wheel.” He ran toward it. There was a large black hat perched on top of the wheel. He pulled it off and stuck it on his head. It fit perfectly.

 “What about me?” Samuel whined.

 “Look, there’s a red scarf thing over there. You can put that on and be part of the crew.”

 Samuel ran and got the bandana. Jeremy helped him tie it around his head.

“Would you look at us?” Jeremy laughed. Samuel did a little jig around the deck.

“Where to now, Jer?” the little sailor asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just try to steer this thing….”

To his amazement, the wheel responded to his touch and the ship began to move. Slowly, Jeremy turned the wheel and they ended up circling the fountain. Palm trees on the shore bobbed their head in salute as the boys sailed past.

“This is so fun!” Samuel ran from one side of the deck to the other, looking over the side.

“You better not fall in,” his brother yelled at him. “I don’t want to have to fish you out.”

This would be so cool to take home and show to Tyler. I bet that would show him a thing, Jeremy thought to himself.

As if on cue, there was a slight shudder to the ship and ever so slowly, the front end started to lift. Jeremy realized with shock that they were pulling out of the water into the air.

Samuel grabbed a mast. “What are you doing?” he screamed.

“We’re…uh…flying!” his brother replied.

They were completely airborne now and Jeremy steered the ship around the lake a couple of laps.

“Jeremy, I think I want to go home,” Samuel said, “this is kind of scary.”

“Okay, no problem,” Jeremy was more uncertain than he sounded. “Home it is.” He headed the ship back to the beach, past the grove of trees and toward the portal. He figured they were going to have to jump off the ship when it got close to the portal and let it go flying off into space.

However, a curious thing started to happen as the ship approached the portal. The entire ship started to shrink and get smaller. Jeremy and Samuel also began to shrink down.

Samuel ran to his brother and clung on for dear life.

“Jeremy!!!!”

Jeremy had nothing to say. The ship was shrinking, and it seemed to be pointing itself to the portal almost without his help. They got right up to the little hanging square.

“Jeremy, we’re going through!” Samuel yelled in Jeremy’s ear.

Then with a little Pop! sound they were through the portal and back in the boy’s bedroom. There were the two twin beds, made up with matching orange and brown plaid coverlets. Samuel’s Ted Bear was still on his bed. Jeremy’s baseball and mitt were on his bed. San Francisco baseball posters were on the wall. It was like they had never left.

“Jeremy, we’re back home.”

“Yeah, we are,” Jeremy whispered. “But, we’re small and we’re still on this ship.”

“Ooh,” Sam said.

The ship was floating through the air unaided.

“Can’t we just get down now?” Samuel pleaded.

“Just a few more minutes. Let’s see where it takes us.”

Jeremy could still steer, and he circled the bedroom. The ship then, seemingly with a mind of its own, headed toward the door. Jeremy thought for a minute they would hit the door and fall off.

Again, to his amazement, with a slight Pop! sound they were through the door and out in the hallway.

Beamer was lying down in the hallway having a morning snooze. Leisurely, they sailed over his head. With a jerk, sensing something, Beamer woke up and caught sight of the ship. He jumped up and started barking. Jeremy steered the ship higher, so Beamer couldn’t get it with his teeth. This close he could see the dog’s tawny brown/gold eyes and shaggy brown fur. They kept sailing down the hall and Beamer ran after them, nails clicking on the parquet flooring. 

Soon, they were in the dining room and Paws, the cat, came around the corner to see what was going on. Shiny black fur with four white paws, he jumped up on the dining room table and started swatting at the ship.

“Paws stop it! Stop it,” Jeremy yelled at the cat who ignored him. They were about to sail past the dining room table when Paws did a giant leap and hooked a set of claws into the side of the ship. The ship began to list dangerously.

“Sorry, pal. Hate to do this.” Jeremy dropped two planks down and a surprised Paws fell to the floor. Recovering quickly, both animals kept chasing the ship.

“Look, Jer!” Samuel exclaimed, “the kitchen window.” Indeed, the kitchen window had been left open and this one had no screen. Jeremy steered the ship right through the open window.

Outside now, the cool autumn breeze buffeted the ship. The sails on the mast blew out to their full extent. Jeremy steered the ship around the backyard several times.

“Can I have a turn?” Samuel asked his brother. “I haven’t had a turn yet.”

“Well, I guess. But don’t run into anything.”

Happily, Samuel grabbed the big wheel. They were nearing the apple tree when there was a screeching sound and Jeremy looked up. In the sky, dropping quickly was the neighborhood hawk.

“The tree!” he exclaimed and jerked the wheel of the ship into the branches of the tree. The hawk whizzed by and screeched.

“Boy, that was close.” Samuel said. “You take it back,” and he stepped away from the wheel and sat down. “How are we going to get back now with that bird and everything?”  He plopped his chubby face in both hands.

The ship balanced precariously on a tree limb.

“I know.” Jeremy started to whistle. “Call to Beamer and Paws, they can come out through the dog door.”

Both boys started yelling for the animals as loudly as they could. In a flash, Beamer was scooting through the dog door with the cat fast behind. Beamer spied them in the tree and started jumping up and down barking. There was another screech, higher up and the sound faded away.

“I think we’re okay now,” Jeremy peered up through the branches. “Let’s go.”

Samuel was holding onto the front of the ship and Jeremy turned the wheel and steered it out of the tree and back toward the house. Beamer kept barking and Paws was following close, doing the stealth bomber thing.

Jeremy steered the ship back inside and straight back to their bedroom. With another Pop! sound they were back in their room. Jeremy steered the ship back to the picture and told Samuel to climb off. Sam jumped down to the dresser and Jeremy followed him. The ship seemed to pause for them. He patted it one last time.

“Time for you to go home now, old thing.”

Promptly, the ship sailed back into the picture which closed behind it. There was a slight sucking sound.  Sam and Jeremy jumped off the dresser just as they resumed their normal size. Jeremy looked, and the picture had returned to its dull brown color again.

They both lay on their beds laughing. There is a slight knock on the door and it opened. Tyler stood there.

“What’s going on, you two?”

They stared at him innocently. “Nothing,” they both said at the same time.

“I thought I heard some funny noises. And why was Beamer barking like that?”

They shrugged.

“Well, I better not…”

“You know, Tyler. You sound just like Dad.” Jeremy said to his older brother.

“Yeah, and your point?”

“Just saying.”

“Right, moron.”

Tyler closed the door with an expression of disgust. They could hear footsteps retreating down the hall.

“I don’t think you’re a moron,” Samuel said to Jeremy.

“Well, thank you, Sam. That’s very nice.”

“What’s a moron?”

Jeremy laughed then Sam laughed. They both rolled back and forth on their twins.

At least for Jeremy, he couldn’t wait to go back in the portal again.

You can see more of Jeremy’s and Samuel’s tales on Kindle Vella. https://kdp.amazon.com/kindle-vella/story-details/PWSVA6FJ6BF

Devine Tragedy – Part III

24 Saturday Feb 2024

Posted by in dating, romance, teenagers

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“What are we going to do?” Becca asked her friend Chloe. Desperation in her voice.

“We are going to do absolutely nothing and act like nothing whatever has happened.” Chloe left off looking for the pen and slammed the locker door roughly. Becca jumped. “Just like nothing happened.” Chloe stuck her chin in the air. “We need to get to class.”

“Okay,” Becca gulped and turned to follow her friend down the hall.

That afternoon, Becca and Chloe were in Lit class. Greg was there. Jennifer was sitting next to him, as close as Ms. Himes would allow. She flashed a smile at Chloe that was brilliant and dazzling white.

Looks like a toothpaste commercial, Chloe thought grimly to herself. Class started and she had to fight to keep her concentration on the subject of the day, John Dunne, and force herself to not keep looking at Jenn and Greg.

An agonizing fifty minutes later, Chloe had her bag packed, on her shoulders and was the first one out the door. Becca rushed to keep up with her.

“Oh, Chloe, Becca,” a feminine voice rang out. Chloe tried to ignore it but Becca tugged at the back of her sleeve.

Slowly, the teen turned around. Jennifer was behind her in the hall with one small hand delicately placed on Greg’s arm. Her eyelash extensions made her blue eyes look even bigger than usual. Greg was busy looking at the ceiling.

“My parents and I will be having a little get together after the Winter prom. I am so hoping you,” her eyes slid over to Becca and she smiled, “and your date will be able to make it. You know the address.” She smirked, tugged on Greg’s sleeve. Her long pink acrylic nails sparkled with tiny jewels. The little hand now had a firm grip on Greg’s upper arm. As they moved down the hall, the pom-pom tassles of her Ugg boots bouncing as she walked. Her black skinny jeans fitting her form perfectly.

Chloe’s vision stared to blur; she felt her hands forming into fists. She was grinding her teeth.

“We should go, sweetie, people are staring at you.” Becca touched a delicate finger to Chloe’s arm.

Chloe yanked away and walked stiffly back to her locker.

Two days later, Chloe was in her room trying to get her homework done. It was difficult because she kept slipping into daydreams about charting a boat and sailing away … her phone rang. She usually ignored it during homework sessions but it was Becca so she picked up.

“Becca.”

“Chloe, are you alone?” Becca whispered into the phone.

“Yes, of course, I’m in my room. What?”

“Um, I have some bad news.”

“Bad news? Becca, the girl I hate most in the entire school is going to the Winter prom with the guy I have been in love with since the 5th grade and you say it gets worse?’

“Well, I don’t know. I think it’s better you hear it from me rather than …”

“Christ. Just go ahead and tell me already!”

“She got a car, a new car.”

“Who got a new car?”

“Jennifer, Jenn got a new car. And …”

“And what? Quit dragging it out.”

“It’s one of those cars; you know that looks like a shoe. That kind. I saw it when I was out shopping with my mom. “

“Okay, so …”

“Chloe … it has a custom paint job. Custom. Pink with brown stripes and little yellow flowers over the brown stripes. It’s really cute …”

“Shit …”

“And … one more thing …” Becca was breathless.

“What!”

“Her new besty friend, you know, that new girl with the red hair and tattoos. Kiki or something. She got a matching car. Same type, same custom paint, different colors.” Becca stopped talking. There was a long silence.

Chloe felt like banging her head against the desk and never stopping.

“Chloe? You okay. I just … ”

“Becca, I’m fine. Thanks for telling me. You are absolutely right. Better from you than someone else. But, I got to go now. Homework, you know.”

“Oh, right, right. Well, um, see you in school tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. We got a swim team race tomorrow after school. ‘Member?” Chloe let out a short hallow laugh.

“Oh, God! We do. I better get to bed early then. Okay, love you lots. Tomorrow.”

“Love you too, Becca.” Carefully, Chloe hit the end button on her phone and put it down. She stared into space. She felt numb.

The next day went by in a blur for Chloe. At lunchtime, she was aware of Jennifer sitting next to Greg and preening him constantly. Her friend Kiki was there and a swarm of young men from various grades kept trying to find room at the table.

Kiki had shown up a few weeks late in the term. She was thin, a little taller than Jenn, with dark red hair cut in a severe asymmetrical style. Half of her head was shaved to the scalp with tiny braids woven tightly at the top before the straight red hair flowed down in a sharp angle. She had tattoos all up one side of an arm and various piercings around her body. Her shirt was low cut and her jeans were torn. She had a pretty, elfin face with small, white teeth, which she flashed often at the boys. They in turn, were gaga over her.

Kiki reminded Chloe of an Anime drawing. The Evil Elf, she thought to herself.

Several of the regulars at their table could not resist the siren song and they too began to drift that way during lunch.

Chloe ate with her head down. Becca ate nervously; alternating between gawking at Jenn and company and glancing at her friend.

“How did her parents ever let her get those tattoos? I thought you had to be eighteen or something,” Becca asked the air not expecting a response.

“San Francisco or Mexico, I expect,” Chloe answered. “Ah, who cares? You done with lunch?”

Becca stole one last glance across the cafeteria and then stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her face. Becca, slightly stocky of build, was a stress eater.

“Sure, coming,” she grabbed her bag and her Diet Coke. Becca found trying to converse with her friend these days increasing difficult.

Later that afternoon, Becca and Chloe suited up and were by the pool waiting for roll call. The guys came out of the locker room together. Chloe turned her back to them so she was looking across the gym.

“Wish me luck, Becca,” a male voice said behind her. Chloe did not turn around.

“Oh, right.” Becca replied nervously. “Good luck, Greg. Is this a tournament day for you guys, too?”

“Yep, it is. And good luck to you on all your races. Even to Miss Chloe.”

Chloe stopped breathing a moment.

“See you, Becca.”

“Right, see you, Greg.”

“Well, what do you think about that? Oh, oh. Oh, no!” Becca exclaimed.

Chloe turned. “What, oh no? What are you talking about?”

“She’s here,” Becca whispered.

“Who?” Chloe had an angry look on her face and looked around the stadium. Then, her heart sank. Three rows up sat Jennifer with two of her friends. They were holding some kind of glitter pom-poms and waving them at the guys.

“Jesus F. Christ, what next?” Chloe turned away.

“Better not let coach hear you talk like that, Chlo. You know how he is.”

Chloe pulled her swim cap down, stalked over to the diving block, and stared hard down into the water.

“Chloe Devine!” she heard her name read.

“Here, coach!” she shouted back.

“Okay, girls, you know the drill. We have been over this a bunch of times. Do your best and try to top your last speed.”

Chloe shook out her arms and legs. All the girls got up on the blocks. The coach blew his whistle. Chloe dived smoothly into the pool.

The water was cool and comforting as always. The pool was deep and a light blue color. Multi-colored flags flew overhead. People started yelling. Chloe swung her arms forward and kicked like the devil himself was behind. She struck the water again and again. Vicious blows. She was hitting Jennifer, she was hitting Greg, she was …. hitting herself. She got to the end of the lane; did her underwater turn and plowed back. Two more laps. The cheering got louder. She pounded the water; all she could think of now was the finish line. Got to get … she hit the wall and stopped.

Standing up suddenly she heard cheering. The coach was leaning over her.

“Chloe, you won; 1:05 minutes for 100 meter freestyle. That’s Olympic quality! I just can’t believe it. I knew you had in it you.” The old guy was smiling like he hit the jackpot. Chloe smiled dazely.

Chloe’s mom and dad had showed up to the race at the last minute and got to see her time posted on the big board.

“Oh, Chloe that was wonderful. Good for you!” her mother was holding out a big dry towel for her and her dad was looking proud.

“Thanks, Mom. We have to do a few more races and then we will be done. You guys want to wait?”

“Of course we do, Hun. Why wouldn’t we?” Mrs. Devine glanced nervously at her husband. Chloe’s younger brother hung back from his parents looking bored.

“Oh, nothing. Okay, it should be another 45 minutes.”

“We’ll be on the bleachers, Hun.”

Chloe dried off as much as possible and wrapped in the big towel, waited her turn for the next round. Her next time was good but still didn’t quite match the first round. Maybe I’m not quite as angry, she thought to herself and grinned.

The family went out to the local coffee shop for an early dinner.

Chloe ate like a starving man and her parents both stared at her.

“Hungry, squirt?” her dad asked carefully.

“Always starving after a meet,” she responded.

Her dad nodded sagely and sipped his coffee. He glanced at his wife and she rolled her eyes a little.

On the way home, they all sang some dumb songs and Chloe felt happier than she had done in weeks. That night she fell into a deep sleep and didn’t move until her alarm went off the next morning.

Continued in part IV

Devine Tragedy – Part II

23 Friday Feb 2024

Posted by in dating, Fiction, romance, teenagers

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After practice, Becca and Chloe usually rode their bikes home. But the weather was starting to get a little chilly and Becca’s dad brought the SUV around to pick up his daughter and her bike.

“Lift?” he asked Chloe.

“No thanks, Mr. Thompson, it’s just a few blocks and I’d rather ride today.”

“Okay, kid. Keep us in mind, weather turns ugly.”

“I will, sir, count on it.”

Thompson did a little salute, climbed up into the SUV cab and pulled away.

Chloe wanted some down time to think. Think without someone getting worried that she was depressed. She stuffed everything into her enormous backpack, shouldered the entire load and headed off home. It was early October and it was getting dark earlier. She would probably have to take Becca up on her offer of a ride soon.

As she rode home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Greg and the skinny kid he had been when her family moved to this neighborhood. At that time, the two of them were about the same height and equally boney.

Who knew the guy would sprout up into the 6’1” monster he was today?. Of course, she was taller too, about 5’7” or 5’8” at last measure. However, while Greg had seemed to erupt into muscular shoulders and back, Chloe was still on the thin side with sharp elbows. Her long arms and big hands were excellent for swimming and eating up the yards, however, out of the water, she often found herself sitting on her hands to hide them. Both her hand and feet made her feel awkward. Her nemesis, Jennifer was much shorter, rounder, prettier too with big boobs and natural blonde curls a la Shirley Temple.

Choe was thinking about the resemblance. Damn it, she even has the dimple!

Most of the boys in the senior class became transfixed when Jennifer floated by and were struck dumb in her presence.

How can I compete with that? Chloe thought viciously to herself. I mean, other than have a boob job or buy falsies.

The girl almost wept. She and Greg had been friends in many classes through the years. In fifth grade, he sat behind her and made her giggle all year long with his fast quips about their 5th grade teacher. A stand-up comedy wanna-be.

“Hey, dude. I hear Jay Leno is auditioning for a backup. Shall I get him your number?” he whispered in her ear. She stifled a giggle.

She also remembered the time that Jennifer Miller, as she was back then, did a spectacular fail on a big English exam. Chloe could remember Mrs. Miller coming to school to pick up her daughter, her face bright with anger.

“All the best men are at all the best school. The best men make the best husbands. You need to get into one of those schools. You will keep your grades up!” she hissed.  With that, the woman jerked a plump and red-faced Jennifer to the parking lot.

Well, she isn’t plump anymore, Chloe thought wryly to herself.

But things had been good between herself and Greg for a long time; sitting with her group at lunch, walking with her to class. Then, slowly things began to change. They both ended up at New H high school and on swim teams. However, when Greg got into water polo, his parents began to send him away for summer camp training. There was even talk about a possible scholarship to the U. Each time Greg got back from a camp, he seemed a little taller, a little bit bigger and … ever more slightly distant.

It wasn’t that Chloe was a complete geek or anything, but she was not, she clearly knew, one of the really cool kids at school. Her mom was an insurance underwriter and her dad; a contractor who had been out of work a lot this year due to the pandemic. Money was a trifle tight at home. Between herself and her younger brother, Sam, what they had needed to go a long way. They still had their ranch-style house of course, and it was in a nice neighborhood. But, Chloe still didn’t have her own car and there was no plan in sight for getting one.

The summer before senior year, Greg’s dad bought him a small, red convertible coupe. It was a BMW. When the kid got that car, things really took a shift.

“It’s the smallest BMW made,” Greg had explained when Chloe complimented him on the car. The boy looked down and nearly shuffled his feet. Finally, he looked up and seemed to gather himself together. “But, yeah, it is nice.” He grinned, his blue eyes glowing.

Chloe felt her heart melt. The no-car thing hurt like never before. She plastered a smile on her face, then, continued on to class, clutching her books in front of her like a protective shield.

She could hear Jennifer and her posse surround Greg; oohing and ahhing all over him, going on about the car.

                                                                                      #

Chloe was about to turn into her street, when she heard the blast of a car horn and jerked right. A car zoomed by and the driver made an ugly hand signal. She had been concentrating so hard on the Greg situation; she had not even noticed the car approaching rapidly from the rear.

She dropped a foot to the street and had to breathe. Her heart was racing as she realized the near miss. She leaned her bike against the curb. Looking around, she realized she was at the small park down the street from where she lived. Lugging her bike and bag over the curb, she went a few feet and plopped down on a cement bench. The bench was cold on her legs. It actually felt good. Helped her to focus.

It wasn’t that Greg was ignoring her deliberately all the time or anything, she had to be honest and admit that. It was more … she gazed around the park. There were large trees gradually loosing leaves. Huge moist yellow leaves lay on the short, cropped grass. The bushes, as always, were trimmed to within an inch of their lives. The City took its responsibilities to the park system seriously. Across the park, two little kids were swinging on the swings over a batch of sand. A bored mom was working to get them to stop, tapping her watch. Dark shadows started to lengthen in the park. There was a slight breeze and chill to the air. Chloe shivered slightly.

Not really ignoring me actually. It was more like … what was it like? She asked herself.

Then it hit her. What is was like, exactly like. Chloe remembered the Disney movie where the kid had the cowboy doll. The kid would play and play with that doll. It was his favorite toy. He loved that doll. Over time, the boy got older and got other favorite toys. Finally, he grew up and the doll was totally left behind, forgotten. Chloe felt just like that doll. A forgotten, favorite toy.

Small tears started to form and fall from her eyes. The wind picked them up and chapped her face. She started to cry harder and harder. She pulled off her backpack and rummaged around for her pack of Kleenex. There were three sheets left. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, and then stared out into the gathering dusk.

The mother of the small boys finally gathered them up. The trio trudged out of the park. They walked by her. One little boy stared at her face, his mouth open.

“Don’t stare, Jeremy, it’s not polite,” the mother chastised.

Chloe came back with a jerk. She wiped her eyes one more time. If she didn’t get home, her mother would start calling people. If she got into the house and got to the bathroom quick, she could get a hot towel on her face, then her mom wouldn’t start asking a lot of nosey questions like “Why are your eyes red?”

She didn’t feel like answering questions tonight. She didn’t feel like doing anything except crawling into bed and staying there about ten years or at least until graduation was over.

Pushing the bike back up, Chloe pulled the backpack on and climbed on her bike. She flipped up the headlamp for traffic and headed home.

Becca and Chloe were at lunch the next day. They were at a table with some friends. Greg used to sit with them but now he was several tables away with Jenn and her pals. Their group were all talking and laughing hysterically.

“I wonder what they are talking about,” Becca asked, her mouth full of sandwich, nodding her head at the other table.

Chloe let out a big sigh, spooned her chocolate pudding and said, “I could care.”

“Oh, Chloe, don’t say that girl. You can’t give up the fight. The Winter prom is coming up. What if he asks her? Becca’s eyes got big around and there was no doubt who the her was. “He used to always like yo…”

“I know, Becca, I know,” Chloe was getting testy with her friend. “He used to always…everything.” She spooned a dab of chocolate in her mouth. “That was then, this is now.”

“Ooh,” Becca put on the sad face. “I’m sorry…”

“Becca,” Chloe slammed down her spoon and went to grab her bag, “there is nothing to be sorry about. He has never asked me out, not once, and we were never,” she used her fingers to create brackets, ‘a thing.’ So, can we drop it before I scream?” Chloe stood up to go.

Becca looked slightly cowed and surprised at the same time. “Sure, sure, Chlo, whatever. Um, see you next class?”

Chloe nodded to her friend, got up, threw her trash away and stalked out. She hadn’t finished her lunch, but somehow, she wasn’t hungry anymore. Tittering and laughter from the Jennifer table followed her out of the cafeteria.

Life went on as always, the Winter prom approached. Chloe consoled herself that neither she nor her shorter, heavier friend, Becca had been asked to the dance. It was good to have some constants in an inconsistent, fickle world. It was a Monday morning; the teen was getting her stuff out of her locker when her friend sidled up to her.

“Chloe?”

“Hi, Becca. I’m looking for my good pen.” Chloe kept rummaging through the bottom of the locker.

“I need to tell you something.”

The tone in her friend’s voice made Chloe stop what she was doing and look around the locker door. Becca looked like a basset hound that had been caught chasing chickens.

“What is it?”

Becca clutched her books more tightly to her team sweatshirt. “Well … you know about the Winter prom …”

“Yes, yes. Of course…”

“Well, I got a phone call last night from Tina and she got it from Holly, so, I’m sure it’s really the truth.” Becca looked desperate.

“What is really the truth?” Chloe demanded and stuck her arms akimbo to her waist. She patted her sneakered foot.

“Gregory has asked Jennifer to the Prom and I wanted to tell you first before anyone else told you and you found out in class!” Becca said it all in a rush and out of breath, stopped suddenly, staring at Chloe.

Chloe felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach, she almost bent over, her face flushed. She could feel tears forming behind her eyes. She grabbed the locker door, steadied herself and took a big breath.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sor…”

Chloe put up a stopping hand. “Don’t, Becca. Don’t. It just makes it worse.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We are going to do absolutely nothing and act like nothing whatever has happened.” Chloe left off looking for the pen and slammed the locker door roughly. Becca jumped. “Just like nothing happened.” Chloe stuck her chin in the air. “We need to get to class.”

Continued Part III

Devine Tragedy

21 Wednesday Feb 2024

Posted by in dating, Fiction, romance, teenagers

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Devine Tragedy

A teenage romance

Courtney Webb

Chloe Devine was seventeen years old and a senior at New Horizons High School, in Southwest Arizona. Students were finally back in class, with masks, but it had been a very long, lonely year, taking classes online at home. The Covid outbreak had put a cramp on a whole lot of things related to high school.

She was relieved to find that her senior class would probably actually walk for graduation. The previous year’s class had accepted their diplomas by Zoom. In any event, Chloe was grateful to be walking the halls again, talking to friends in person. The first day she was back on the campus of New H, as students called it, a load seemed to lift off her shoulders.

Especially fun was her AP lit class with Ms. Himes, who was also a Vice-Principle at New H. Ms. Himes had curly, unruly red hair that frizzed out in bad weather. Not only did Chloe like the woman and admire her, she felt here was a fellow frizzy-haired sufferer. Chloe’s hair was not red, it was dark brown, but curly and a complete misery during humid weather. The teen took to having a knit cap handy so when her hair got completely out of control, she could pull on the cap and content herself with simply fluffy bottoms sticking out.

The AP class was small, only seventeen students, fifteen girls and two boys. They had all earned their seats by dent of hard work, good grades and ‘aptitude.’ Chloe had found herself in class with any number of these students over the years, from as far back as the 5th grade.

Gregory, a tall slim blond, her favorite male at New H, had also got himself into the class by some miracle. Chloe knew for a fact; Greg didn’t really care for literature that much.

“Majoring in biology,” he told her one day at lunch. “Marine biology I think,” he added as he wolfed down his ham and cheese. The girl always wondered where he tucked all the food he was constantly devouring. Chloe was tall and skinny too, but man! She couldn’t eat like that!

Chloe had daydreams about Greg. He would ask her out on a date, they would become a thing; they would go to senior prom. They would go to the same university – he would ask her to get married … The dreams went on and on.

Her big brown eyes popped open when she realized that Ms. Himes had just asked her a question.

“Hmm, ah, hmm…”

Ms. Himes give Chloe a stern look and then, “Jennifer?”

Jennifer blithely brought forth a smooth melodious answer. “Jane Austin, Ma’am, Pride and Prejudice.” She smiled.  Chloe began to feel a pink blush of embarrassment rise on her cheeks. I knew that, she chastised herself.

Jennifer finished speaking and gave Chloe an arch, cat-like glance, smugness itself. The two had been in many of the same classes over the years. Although Chloe hated to admit it, they were frequently competing for the same classes, same grades, same awards, same everything.

In fact, Jennifer would get to class early and save a seat for Greg. She would mince and pat the chair when he came in. Whenever she accomplished her goal, Jennifer would tilt her blonde curly head to the side, smile sweetly and work very hard to keep her all her attention on either Ms. Himes or Gregory.

Greg seemed to not notice what was going on with Jennifer or else, chose to ignore the implications.  

I just bet he loves the attention! Chloe fumed to herself.

As soon as the bell rang, Jennifer would jump up and get as close to Greg as possible and walk with him out the door. When this happened, she would always turn slightly and shoot Chloe a tight smirk.

Chloe couldn’t help it, when she saw the two of them walk out of the class together, her heart sank.

Of course, Chloe would get her own back when her team would meet after school at the indoor pool for swimming. She was on the girls’ team and Greg played water polio. His big, long arms were perfect for spiking the ball over the net and he was the team’s star player. Chloe had been swimming her whole life, Austrian crawl was her specialty, and she was good at it.

The girls and boys came out of separate locker rooms. Chloe was wearing a new teal, one-piece, Speedo suit. It complemented her pale skin and fit well over her lanky frame. She still despaired over being mostly flat chested.

Her mother would say, “Stop worrying, Chloe. They’ll come in. The boys used to call me Ironing Board when I was your age. Look at me now!”

Since her mother was also a little on the plump side, Chloe didn’t want to think about that too hard.

She was suited up and chatting with the girls on the team when Greg strode by. He paused.

“Chloe.”

“Greg.”

“New suit?”

She looked down at herself and paused. “Let me think. Ah, yes, it is.” She smiled and looked up at him.

Greg was smiling too. He grinned. “Looking good girl, looking good.” He instantly turned and kept striding to the big square pool where water polo was held.

“Oh, Chloe isn’t he too much!” Becca, Chloe’s good friend gushed. She put her head down and whispered in Chloe’s ear, “Do you think he will ask you out? The Winter Prom is coming up soon.”

Chloe shook her head and shrugged. “No idea, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Ooh,” Becca looked sad a moment and then glanced over to the other pool. “Thank God, that silly Jennifer hates to swim, or she would be here and all over him like an eel. Geese, she gives me the creeps!”

“Yeah,” Chloe responded.

The coach showed up with his whistle and clipboard. He started to call out names. Time to shift focus, Chloe turned toward the coach.

Continued Part II

No, do not let your Two-Year use your cell phone!

10 Sunday Sep 2023

Posted by in families, kids, marriage, stress, teenagers

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More and more when I am in restaurants and other places, I am seeing young mothers, with very small children, allowing the child to ‘use’ the cell phone or else, buying them electronic devices of their own to use. Seems great, right? The kid is entertained, you are free to a) eat b) talk to your friends c) be on your cell phone. Great? Not great. Remember the days when every restaurant had coloring placemats and crayons? Your kids would spend a lot of time coloring the cows and cowboys all kinda wierd colors. Remember how proud they were of that. You worked hard to smile and said “Beautiful, darling!”

FYI parents; the purple cows and pink cowboys will eventually become pink and purple butterflys, with brown houses in greeen lawns. Those with become cats, dogs and horses and those will become…..wait for it…people. This process, and it is a process, is called creativity and yes, surprise, surprise, it does have to be ‘developed.’ When your kid is watching a cartoon, playing a computer game, watching movies and TV shows, they are watching something created by someone else. Not them. This is a very passive activity that doesn’t do much for them except fill time.

Social skills: as a teacher, I see in the classroom a growing lack of basic social skills between students. A lot of this was extremely aggravated by Covid, but the constant presence of cell-phones and their addiction is not helping.

The never-ending, unreal world of not only TV but Facebook: In case you have not seen the movie Barbie, I would recommend it. Barbie starts off very happy in a very fantasy world. It’s not real and neither is she. Facebook pages are filled to the brim with wonderfully happy people living wonderfully happy lives in a kind of never, never, land. As an adult, with pretty good self-esteem and judgment, I can get jealous and envious of others and start feeling bad about myself. Kids and teens don’t stand a chance as they have little life experience to compare to these perfect vignettes to. So, no, don’t let small children use cell phones and other electronic devices. Also, pay close attention to how much ‘total time’ your older children are spending on the same devices.

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PARENTING

Yes, your smartphone habit is affecting your kid—here’s how

We’ve all spent countless hours lost in emails or Instagram, but experts are worried that when we’re connecting online, we’re connecting less with our kids.

BY CARISSA HALTONUPDATED JUL 27, 2020Yes, your smartphone habit is affecting your kid—here's how

Photo: iStock

“Well, when can we go?” My three kids, ages six, nine and 12, stood before me with frustrated faces, as though they’d been waiting a long time for an answer.

“Go where?” I asked. My eyes fought to look up from my tiny phone screen and then struggled to refocus on their faces.

“To the pool! Mom, you were looking for the pool hours.”

I’m not sure how long it had been since I picked up my phone for the search. My various apps and notifications had led me deep down digital rabbit holes. Dozens of times a day, as I walk, eat and parent, my phone distracts me and, embarrassingly, the kids are starting to notice.

Child psychologists are also noticing, and they’re concerned—not for me, but for my kids.

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2023

Our tech tools have become essential for our work, play and comfort. My phone is my research assistant, as well as my yoga teacher. It gets me to meetings on time, reminds me to call the dentist, deposits cheques, encourages me to take deep breaths—it even tracks my hormone cycles so that I only have to experience them, not be attuned to them.

But these devices aren’t as benign as we all thought when we opened their stiff boxes and gloried in the shiny glass screens in which we could check our lipstick. They have been designed to capture our attention and keep us coming back to monitor the popularity of our status, read our most recent notifications and find out the latest trending stories. We pick up our phones as many as 150 times per day, creating short interruptions in our real-world relationships. This has experts wondering: Are smartphones impeding the critical human connections that for millennia have been the primary way parents have transferred rules, skills and social norms to the next generation?

Devices are interfering with development

Humans learn best through person-to-person, in-the-flesh interactions. Jeanne Williams, a child psychologist and play therapist based in Edmonton, explains that this interaction-based learning begins long before a child is verbal. At birth, a baby’s brain has a hun­dred billion neurons, most of which are not connected. The neurons begin to form connections with one another when the child engages with their parents and others around them—for instance, when a baby smiles and their parent smiles back, or a baby cries and a parent responds with a hug.

These types of reciprocal exchanges are known as “serve and return” interactions, because they work like a game in which a ball is volleyed back and forth. The child sends a signal, and the parent responds. Serve and return helps connect neurons in the brain to support language and communication skills, and as a child grows, these interactions help them learn emotional control, as well as important non-verbal emotional cues (for instance, what anger and happiness look like). The more responsive we are to their elemental attempts at communication, Williams says, “the more they learn the world is a pretty safe place.”

But for all of this learning to happen, the “served” communication must be promptly “returned.” While I’m no sports fan, even I know there is no game if one team stops bumping back. And that’s exactly what happens when our devices interrupt our interactions with our kids. Researchers at Boston University School of Medicine observed that when parents were distracted by a device at dinner, they had 20 percent less conversation with their kid and 39 percent fewer non-verbal interactions.

The tech interruptions start early on in our relationships with our kids, disrupting even little things like eye contact. And the consequences are real. University of Cambridge researchers have found that when mom and baby lock eyes, their brainwave patterns sync up so that scans of their brain activity look very similar. Researchers concluded that gaze powerfully signals to the baby that mom is available and interested in communicating, and the baby in turn will make more vocalizations and greater attempts to interact.

So when breastfeeding moms use devices to pass the time, lactation consultants are worried they’re missing those critical bonding opportunities that come from looking their babies in the eye. It’s true that texting or social scrolling can connect us to friends and family at a time when we’re isolated and feeding on the couch, but by getting lost in notifications and never-ending pictures of other people’s super cute babies, we miss out on the connection our babies may be trying to have with us.

Missed opportunities continue as our children begin to process emotion through conversation. “Often, the effect of looking down at a screen can eliminate the opportunity and space kids need to say what’s on their mind,” warns Williams. That’s why, when I drive the kids to school and activities, and have no distractions, they become exponentially more open to sharing stories about their day.

As kids grow, being available and responsive also helps them learn emotional regulation. “When a kid is distressed and you completely ignore them, their distress is going to grow,” Williams says. “They won’t build neural pathways that teach them how to soothe themselves.”

The inconsistent and unpredictable responses that often evolve from tech distraction (sometimes I ignore you; sometimes I don’t) can be especially harmful to kids. Tracy Dennis-Tiwary, professor of psychology at Hunter College and the Graduate Center of the City University of New York, decided to measure the effect. She had parents self-report their normal technology use and their child’s temperament. The children whose parents used their phones more had a harder time reconnecting with their parents and displayed fewer signs of happiness and curiosity overall. What this means for kids’ emotional health later in life is of concern to Dennis-Tiwary: “If we disrupt our one-on-one time by disappearing into our smartphones, then they will learn to disconnect in similar ways.” She fears that parents’ cellphone use is teaching kids that technological distraction is the way to handle boredom and negative feelings. “If our children learn to navigate these challenging moments with devices, they may have fewer and less flexible strategies at their disposal to cope with day-to-day social ups and downs.”

And if this weren’t enough to jolt me from my scrolling-induced reverie, there are also the physical consequences of distracted parenting. One study matched hospital data against the slow rollout of 3G cell networks in the US. When cell service became available, local hospitals reported a 10 percent spike in emergency room visits for kids under six. The study’s author argued that it wasn’t because kids were involved in riskier activities; it was because parents were distracted.

Competing for attention

It’s not like distracted parenting is new. From constantly watching for predators in our early cave-dwelling days to dealing with gruelling work weeks during the Industrial Revolution, parents have always had activities that pulled their focus from their kids. Tech-induced distraction is also not new—parents of previous generations had car radios and sports on TV. However, today’s technology is designed to draw us in and follow us wherever we go. Vast amounts of money and science go into playing on our vulnerabilities in order to attract and keep our attention. Unfortunately, it seems to have a detrimental effect on our ability to focus on anything else. In fact, according to one study, my goldfish now has a longer attention span than I do.

With such a well-funded and successful campaign to capture our attention, how can our kids compete? They try. Brandon McDaniel, assistant professor in Human Development and Family Science at Illinois State University, has studied “technoference,” as he has dubbed it, since 2012. In a recent study published in Pediatric Research, he observed that the more parents were distracted by tech, the more kids acted out. But it didn’t stop there; it became a cycle. As kids acted out, parents became stressed, and when parents were stressed, they turned to technology, which, of course, only led to more acting out. He empathizes with parents who are just responding to pressure in our hyper-connected world, but he feels it is important to sound the alarm: “We are allowing tech to interfere with our relationships, and that feeds back into how our children are doing.” Don’t I know it: My kids get louder, get closer, grab my chin and suddenly, I pay attention—but usually it is only to ask them to settle down.

Scaling back screen time

While I can’t give up my phone, I want to manage my distraction. McDaniel suggests I start with analyzing my phone use. By downloading a few apps (I tried Moment, Mute and RealizD, but Apple’s iOS 12 also has a Screen Time feature), I’ve been able to track my usage and the number of times I pick it up. The analytics tell a story about my emotional, social and professional reliance on my phone. I’m most vulnerable to being distracted by my phone after I post on social media or in the late afternoon when I’m tired from the day (and, unfortunately, just when my kids return from school).

McDaniel says we have to take the time to create strategies to better manage our tech use. I decided to set a tech-free zone at the dinner table and in my bedroom, but McDaniel discourages a one-size-fits-all approach to managing the distractions: “Tech-free zones work differently for every family.” He encourages families to consider when and where tech-free times would work best for them.

Most phone-use tracking apps come with goal-setting tools, and when I ask Williams about what goals she recommends, she says, “Try to have some regular time that you are 100 percent focused on your kid.” Start with scheduling one or two playtimes every week. That might mean 20 minutes of playing catch in the front yard or swimming at the pool, but whatever it is, commit to no distractions. By being really present, she says, “you’re primed to hear if your kids have something to talk about, or see a scowl and have the availability to ask, ‘What’s up?’”

Williams also urges me to limit my unnecessary screen time, like surfing social media after the kids get home from school. “It’s OK to use our phones to chill out, but try to keep it to when kids are in school or in bed. Ask yourself, Do I really need to be on here?”

But what about all those times when looking up an address, turning on music or finding a recipe is necessary? Although I need to do these things, to my kids, it all appears like distraction. Without the visual and audio cues I had as a child—when I could see my parents looking at a map or going to the post office—my kids are often left in the dark as to what I’m doing or planning.

To combat this, I say out loud what I’m up to so they know I’m arranging their summer camp registration or finding the perfect birthday cake recipe. This way, they know when they can interrupt. When appropriate, I’ll mirror my screen on the TV, so we can meditate together on Headspace or edit pictures collaboratively. Williams says kids love being included when we’re trying to solve problems and often have ideas of their own. “Talking with your kids about the struggle you are having to achieve balance with your technology is a huge opportunity to learn together with your kids what balance looks like for your family.”

McDaniel’s final piece of advice is simple: Look up. “If your child walks in to get your attention, look in their eyes instead of looking at your device.” Adults understand that a person focused on their phone is distracted or attending to another task, but McDaniel says young children can’t comprehend that their parent still values them over technology. By looking your child in the eye, he says, “You’ve shown them that you are listening, and they are learning that the device doesn’t have more value than them.”

The other day, McDaniel’s advice came to mind when I found selfies of my 11-year-old daughter on my phone. They were blurry photos in very close range of her eye. It was as if she were saying, “Look at me.”

I took it as a reminder to look up. There’s no app for that.

This article was originally published online in December 2018.

Old Town Pasadena – Part II

28 Saturday Jan 2023

Posted by in aging, exercise, dating, families, Fiction, FRIENDSHIP, romance, teenagers

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                                                            #

( Previously, Kristie was getting some unwanted attention at church. She called on Sam Reynolds, her boyfriend to help. He then decided they could both use a short vacation. They are on their way to a B & B in Pasadena.)

They stopped at a McDonalds on the way down to get some lunch and regroup. Sam pulled out his street map of LA.

“Okay, I think it’s right here.” He pointed.

“Alright,” Kristie replied putting some French fries in her mouth.

“I think we can, yes, get over the Grapevine down on the 405 and then branch over at the 210 to Pasadena. That should save us a bunch of LA traffic.”

“Sounds good,” Kristie said, “want me to drive?”

 Sam stole some of her fries.

“Uh, sure. You want?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Shouldn’t be too hard. I’ll put the address into my phone for the GPS thing.”

Back on the road, they had traded places and it was Sam’s turn to snooze.

Kristie looked over at him. I love watching him sleep, she thought to herself. Actually, I love watching him anytime. A buff dude, Sam spent a fair amount of time in the gym keeping in shape. He would wear a turquoise cut off gym shirt that played up his bright blue eyes and she would just sigh. I am a lucky gal. Not everyone my age, divorced with two grown kids can say the same.

Driving along, her mind wandered back in time to her divorce. She had filed when she discovered her husband was cheating on her on his out-of-town trips. When she had confronted him with the evidence, he had just crumpled like an over-blown balloon. He had wanted reconciliation, but she had suspected this for a very long time. Who knew how many women it had been. She was done playing games.

Oddly enough, her two daughters continued to take his side for a long time and insisted she was being unreasonable. She learned to stop arguing with them about it. Phil was still in the LA area and her two girls still gravitated more to him. Although he had been the absent parent, always gone with work and trips and she had been the caretaker, they still seemed to care for him the most. She couldn’t understand it.

She sighed at the memories. However, since Sam had showed up on the scene, they seemed to be coming around more. They both enjoyed his easygoing manner and gentlemanly ways. He would kid them about this and that and they would both laugh hysterically. Like kids again, she thought. Just like kids again.

She consulted her cell phone again, the little arrows were starting to point toward the 210. Traffic began to slow and Sam woke up.

“We there yet, Mom?”

“Getting close. Look at this map again would you, I think the offramp might be the tricky part.”

Forty minutes later they were traveling south through Pasadena towards South Pasadena. The weather for late fall was sunny, crisp and clear.

“Hey, look at that bridge,” Sam called out.

Kristie pulled the car to the curb.

“Yeah, that’s the Colorado Street Bridge, been here a long time. Called the Jumper’s Bridge.”

“The what?”

“Jumper’s Bridge. Apparently, more people have jumped off that bridge than anything else around here.”

“Whew, good to know, I guess.”

They traveled through dense foliage next to the road as it curved around the soft hills of Pasadena. They could smell the faint scent of something burning. A few houses had chimneys and wispy trails of smoke escaped from the tops.

Sam looked at the map. “Think we’re almost there. It’ll be on the right.”

Abruptly a sign came into view and Kristie barely had time to signal and make a sharp right into a drive. The drive led up the hill and was edged with large trees and bushes. They pulled right into the parking lot and the three-story house came into full view.

“Wow!” Kristie let out as she pulled in.

It was a beautiful, turn of the century home that had been carefully restored. It had a peaked gable roof over a large front porch cluttered with easy chairs and occasional tables.

Sam reached over and popped the trunk while Kristie walked toward the house.  There were large plate glass windows on the front and the tops of each had clear decorative glass panels with lead scrolling. She went up the steps to admire the scalloped shingles on the outside.

She was touching one with a finger when the front door flew open, and a very large Bill Bass appeared.

“Kristie! Sam! You’re here!”

Bill squeezed Kristie in a bear hug and she momentarily stopped breathing.  

“Thanks, Bill,” she gave a little gasp.

“Go in, go in! Mialee!” he boomed, “they’re here.”

A little woman of about 5’3” came hustling around a corner and lead Kristie into the living room.

“You must be Kristie. I am Mialee.” She smiled and gave a tiny bow.

Kristie put out her hand for a shake. “Yes, I am. So nice to meet you.”

“Let me show you your room and then we do lunch.”

Kristie let herself be lead upstairs. Sam and Bill were still booming at each other down in the parking lot. Might as well take the opportunity to wash up, she told herself.

Mialee led the way to an enormous bedroom with a huge double bed covered in a white, fluffy comforter. “The bathroom is here,” Mialee pointed. “Lunch in about twenty minutes.”

“Good, thanks.” Kristie put down her purse and as soon as the owner was out of the room, she sat on the bed and began to bounce up and down. Then, she sank backwards into the comforter and let the softness enfold her.

Sam came into the room backwards holding suitcases in both hands.

“What are you doing darlin’? It’s not time for bed yet.”

“Sam, I might never move again,” she told him.

He laughed. “Okay, but more grub fer me.”

She sighed, pulled herself up reluctantly and went to wash her face and hands. The tantalizing smells from the kitchen started to waft their way upstairs as she descended the stairs.

She entered a very large dining room off of the living room. It had two big walnut tables set for lunch and turrets of steaming food were being put down. Mialee was helped by a guy that looked to be the cook and the table was rapidly full with various dishes. Suddenly, Kristie realized how hungry she was and that McDonalds was a distant memory.  

She began to serve herself.

“Wild mushroom soup,” Mialee pointed. “Long grain rice. Chops, stuffed chicken breasts,” she pointed at another bowls. “Rolls, butter. Would you like wine?”

Kristie waved it away. “Too early for me. Tonic water?”

“Coming up,” Mialee scurried away.

“. . . bought it when it was just a shack and have been rebuilding it for about ten years. Old guy finally ran out of money and Mialee was on the scene and just happened to have the ready to bail the guy out. I mean, he didn’t want to sell of course, but what could he do? Couldn’t afford the utility bill anymore.”

Sam nodded as Bill blathered on about the history of the house. Not so much to stop him filling his plate and shoveling in the goods.

Kristie cut into a very delicious pork chop and had a bite. That combined with the fluffy mashed potatoes and gravy and thin, green asparagus and she was almost in heaven. She chatted with some of the other guests around the table and admired the heavy crown molding that edged the top of the white plaster walls. Views of the Pasadena foothills could be seen through the enormous plate glass windows. She noticed a second building out back, a smaller, two-story affair.

“So, what’s that,” she pointed a fork at the building.

“Oh, that’s our overflow building. It gets too crowded here, we stuff them in over there.”

Kristie nodded.

“Yeah, and, um, Mialee’s sister lives there too,” Bill added through a mouth of mashed potatoes.

“What’s her name?”

He looked momentarily embarrassed. “Jen, yeah, uh, Jen.” He took a swig of his beer and his eyes slid over to Mialee.

Kristie grabbed a hot roll for buttering and glanced at him. Wonder what that’s about, she thought.

After the filling lunch, Kristie wanted to walk. She and Sam motored over to Colorado Blvd. to walk around the shops. The boulevard was festive and the city had already started to put up fairy lights on the overhead light standards. Pumpkins and signs of Thanksgiving could be seen in abundance. They ended up at Vroman’s book shop and wandered the shelves.

The store had a coffee shop so Kristie ordered her favorite…pumpkin latte. Sam couldn’t be persuaded to try anything stranger than a latte so Kristie gave up trying. They took their drinks to a table and sat.

She had found a cute book on cooking for the holidays and Sam was leafing through a new issue of Field and Stream. 

“So, the place is beautiful,” she commented to Sam. “Where did Mialee get the money to buy a place like that?”

“Ever the nosey one, aren’t you?” he gave her nose a little tap. “Well, apparently, Mialee had a restaurant in Thailand that was fairly successful, which she sold. Plus, she is divorced from an American GI and I believe, don’t quote me, she did pretty well in the divorce.”

Kristie nodded and sipped her latte.

“The place is probably mortgaged to the yin-yang so, let’s hope they stay successful.”

She raised her cup to that. “And the food is divine.”

“It is that, it is indeed.”

After window shopping, they drove back.  Kristie wanted to take a nap and Sam had plans to go out with Bill to a cigar shop. When they got back, Mialee’s daughter, Crystal was busy running back and forth with fresh towels. Her son, Daniel could be seen emptying trash cans.

“Looks like everybody gets to help,” Kristie whispered to Sam.

They wound their way around the two. Even Bill was busy, running a vacuum of all things. Kristie escaped to their room and closed the door. Throwing off her shoes and dumping her bag she fell face first into the giant coverlet and was soon fast asleep.

A couple of hours later, a groggy Kristie awoke from the sleep of the dead. She was disoriented a moment and didn’t know where she was. Looking around the room, she finally got her bearings.

What woke me up? She wondered and then heard it again. Voices drifting up from the kitchen.

“I told you no. How many times do I got to say it? No is no and why don’t you quit asking?”

There was a low murmured reply Kristie couldn’t hear.

“Jesus! I got to get dinner ready. If you’re not going to help, why don’t you go do something with yourself. I’m busy.”

There was the sound of a slamming door and then sounds in the kitchen. Mostly pots and pan getting banged around loudly. Kristie got up and went to wash her face in the lavatory. She combed her hair and changed her shirt.

Walking down the stairs, it looked like Sam was still not back. She remembered some hot tea fixings in the dining room. Quietly, she went in to make herself a cup. She could hear Mialee in the kitchen. Cup in hand, she gingerly pushed open the swinging kitchen door.

Mialee was standing at the sink, both arms stretched out straight, leaning against the porcelain. It looked like she had been crying.

“Oh, I’m sorry. . . “

Mialee jerked her head around and wiped her face with a shirt sleeve. “No, it’s okay. Just me being emotional. Did you have a good nap?”

“Oh yes, like a bear in hibernation. Your beds are great.”

Mialee walked out of the kitchen into the dining room. Kristie followed and watched while the woman made herself a cup of ginseng tea. Mialee gestured for Kristie to sit at the big table. The other guests were either still out sightseeing or napping upstairs.

“This is such a beautiful house…” Kristie started.

Mialee nodded. “Yes, and a great deal of work. You probably heard me with my sister, Jen.”

Kristie shrugged and sipped her tea.

“She, I, uh, both of us have put so much into this place.” She waved her hand around expansively.

“I am sure,” Kristie replied, “but your business seems to be doing so well.”

Mialee nodded. “It is doing well, but it has to do really well for us to make the mortgage and pay the bills. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything, but it is hard to make it in the restaurant trade.”

Kristie nodded. “I’m not expert, but I work at a credit union, and we see a lot of struggling owners. I guess it’s easy to lose your shirt in this kind of operation.”

Mialee sighed and wrapped both hands around her mug. “Jen used to help all the time with meals and maintenance. But then Bill showed up, they kind of . . .clashed and she got a job tending bar. Now, I hardly see her anymore. Then with her weird hours and these friends she brings home…I just don’t know.” Head down, the woman stared into her cup.

“Ah,” Kristie replied. A picture was staring to form. “And you don’t like her friends.”

Mialee shook her head. “No, not at all.” She sipped her tea some more. “Listen to me. I don’t know why I am telling you all this. You’re a guest! Time to get the dinner on. But, thanks for listening, Kristie. Bill talks about you and Sam all the time.”

“No problem,” Kristie replied. “Anytime. But now I think I’ll take a little walk before it’s time to start eating again!”

Mialee disappeared into the kitchen. Kristie grabbed her key, a cold bottle of water from the guest fridge and a sweater. She walked outside and saw the Ducati motorcycle parked next to the annexed building. There was no sign of Jen. Kristie walked down the driveway then a few blocks toward town. The leaves were turning bright red and yellow, and she was enjoying the sights and smells of fall. As she was returning, she noticed a little footpath close to the B and B that seemed to run from the street, up through the trees. Wonder where that goes, she thought.  

A little later Sam and Bill got back, and Sam smelled of cigar smoke. Kristie didn’t mind because she loved the smell. Even though she knew he shouldn’t be smoking, she decided to not nag. Sam had got them a video to watch for the evening, so she was content.

As dinner was served, they heard the loud roar of the Ducati as it sped off from the back of the house and left the property. Bill and Mialee exchanged glances. Kristie noticed but said nothing. Not really my business, she chided herself.

Later, dinner was done and Mialee and Bill were busy with clean up. Kristie and Sam got half-way through the movie in the big living room.  Both were tired and decided to go upstairs.

 Later, Kristie woke up and pawed at the side table for her water glass…empty.  Getting up, she decided to get a fresh bottle of Fiji water from the little frig downstairs. Quietly, she made her way down to the dining room and got a bottle. Something made her turn. Someone was standing next to the window smoking a cigarette.

She realized after a moment that it must be Mialee’s sister Jen. At first all Kristie could see was the glowing end of the cigarette.

“Oh,” she said, “you startled me.”

There was a little laugh, the young woman came forward.

“Yeah, I have that effect on some people.”

Mialee and her sister were about the same 5’3” in height and had the same coffee colored skin. That is where the similarity ended. Where Mialee had long hair tied in a pony, her sister had black hair cut in a jagged bob sticking out in angles all over her head. It was half purple and stood up in spots. She must use some killer gel, Kristie thought to herself.

She was dressed in tight, distressed jeans, over that a black leather jacket with chains and buttons everywhere. On her neck and everywhere skin showed, there were tattoos of all variety of pictures and colors. She wore heavy black eyeshadow and spikey silver jewelry in her ears, nose and neck. Reminds me of an anime character. Kristie thought absently.

“So,” Kristie commented, making conversation, “you must get off work very late.”

“Yeah,” the young woman replied, “the bar closes at 2 am and then there’s clean up.” She puffed on her cigarette. “You a guest here?”

“Ah, yeah.” Kristie started to inch toward the stairs. The girl had dark, intense eyes that were staring at her hard. She felt uncomfortable, almost like a question was hanging in the air. Somehow, she didn’t feel like waiting around until that question found a voice. “Well, back to bed.”

The eyes kept following her, the cigarette continued to glow in the dark. Kristie hustled back upstairs. She made sure the bedroom door was locked.

“What in the hell is that all about?” she mumbled to herself as she got back in bed.

“Wha. . .” Sam mumbled at her and then threw an arm over her. She smiled and snuggling up close to him, closed her eyes and was soon asleep again.

(Part III – Sam and Kristie have gotten to the B & B in Pasadena and are enjoying their visit with old friend Bill Blass and his girlfriend, Mialee. However, a sister seems to be a little less than friendly.)

Old Town Pasadena – A Sam Reynolds story

26 Thursday Jan 2023

Posted by in coffee, dating, families, Fiction, FRIENDSHIP, marriage, romance, teenagers

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Kristie sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

The pastor droned on and on. She could feel someone looking at her. Almost against her will, she turned her head slowly.

Frank, one of the other parishioners, at another table, was beaming at her. She managed a watery smile and turned her head back front. It was almost an act of sheer will to not look again.

Later, the pastor was fielding questions from parishioners. She turned her head back to that side of the room again. Frank was actually looking away for a moment. She took in his usual garb. Although it was late fall already, he was still dressed in army fatigue shorts, his best wife-beater t-shirt, a trucker cap and flip-flops.

A little past middle-age, white tufts of hair stuck out from beneath the cap. Her eyes were drawn to his feet. They were dry, with large calluses ringing the heels. The nails were longish and faintly tinged with dirt. He had a habit of rubbing his feet together which made a slight rasping sound.

As she had in the past, Kristie caught herself wondering what it would be like to be in bed with such feet. God. An involuntary shudder passed through her and she managed to pull her face back forward before the man had a chance to glow at her anymore. It has probably been some time since ol’ Frank has had the opportunity to share sheet time with anyone, she thought to herself.

At the end of the class session, people were getting up and grabbing their jackets and bags. She jerked when she saw him trying to push his way in her direction. Grabbing the car keys, she practically ran out of the building. Pam, her good friend, tried to stop her to say hello. She just shook her head no and kept going.

Once in the car, she breathed a little sigh of relief. But, damn it! If he wasn’t coming her way to start some conversation in the parking lot. She cranked the engine over and pulled a turn around him. He lifted his hand to wave and she gave him the briefest wave back and gunned the motor.

Back at her place she gave Sam, her long-time boyfriend, a call.

“So, what do you want me to do? Beat him up? He’s an old guy.”

“No, I don’t want you to beat him up. Just . . . “

“What?”

She was momentarily at a loss for words. What did she want?

“Just, be a presence. Come to church with me and be a presence.”

“Come to church?”

“Yes, the Bible class.”

“Oh, Kristie, the last time I was in Bible class, I was twelve. And I didn’t much like it then!” Sam protested.

“Sam… “

“Well, has the old geezer actually done anything?”

“No, he hasn’t done anything. But. . . he keeps trying to ah, . . .  hit on me and I get really uncomfortable. I am going to have to stop going if. . ..”

“Okay, okay. Whatever. If you say so. Jeese.” Sam blew out his breath wondering how much perfectly good football time this would entail.

“Oh, Sam, thanks.”

“Well, hold on now. How many of these damn. . . uh, classes will I have to do?”

“I don’t know for sure. Just enough so he gets the idea I’m not available.”

“Alrighty, I will go and flex my biceps for this clown.”

                                            
“Oh, good.”

“Does this mean you owe me some more apple pie?”

“Deal.”

                                                            #

The next day at work, Pam came up to Kristie.

“What the heck was that all about last night, girlfriend?”

“I’ll tell you at break,” Kristie glanced around.

“Okay, fine. Thought I had cooties or something.”

Kristie laughed. “It’s not you, not at all.”

Pam looked relieved.

                                                            #

The following week, Kristie was back in Bible study and her sidekick, Sam, was by her side. They sat together at a table and the pastor welcomed Sam.

“I see we have a newcomer,” the pastor said genially. “Welcome.”

Sam smiled and waved to the group.

At break time, everyone got up to get a cup of coffee and some cookies the church ladies had set out. Sam moseyed over to the coffee urn and poured himself a cup of regular. He looked around the room and spotted Frank and did a beeline.

“Frank!” He clapped the older man on the back forcibly.

Frank staggered forward a step and spilled a little of his coffee. Looking around he gave a half-smile to the taller, more buff Sam.

“I think we know each other from the gym, don’t we?” Sam continued and put his arm around Frank’s shoulders giving a subtle push toward the open door.

“I, I’m not sure. Do you go to the gym in town?”

“Yes, I do. How much can you lift, Frank? Two – two fifty? You look like a guy who likes to stay in shape.”

The two men walked awkwardly toward the outside of the building.

Kristie was watching from the sidelines and nearly choked on her coffee laughing. She almost felt sorry for Frank for a minute when she saw the wolfish grin Sam was wearing. One she knew too well, right before he was ready to punch someone.

Stop it, she told herself. It’s all the man deserves. That and more. She had to laugh again at that panicked look in Frank’s eyes. Hump! Guilty conscience no doubt.

Later, Kristie and Sam got into his truck to go home.

“Thanks, Sam, for doing that. I started to feel sorry for the guy,” she told him.

Sam cranked up the engine and pulled out of the lot.

“Well, don’t. The guy’s a loser. He drank his way through two marriages and has finally seen the light. Why do you think he started coming to church?”

“I don’t know.”
“He gave up drinking and decided to try Jesus instead. He simply has a preference for blondes.” Sam reached over and tugged at one of Kristie’s blonde curls. “And you are just his cup of tea.”

“Ick,” was her reply.

“Yeah, me too and I’m a guy. Nope,” he gave her a little wink, “don’t think he will bother you anymore. We came to an understanding.”

“What?”

He wagged a finger at her. “Ask me no questions and I’ll you no lies.” He smiled.

“I…” Realizing she really didn’t have anything to add, Kristie shrugged her shoulders and gave it up.

                                                                        #

The next morning, they were at Kristie’s house and Sam was having his first cup of coffee for the morning. Kristie wandered out in her dressing gown and yawned.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“God, I hate early risers,” she half moaned and poured herself a cup. She had to admit, Sam could make a decent pot of coffee.

He was sitting at the kitchen table leafing through the paper.

“Hmm. Look at this,” he pointed at the paper. She came over.

“Bed and breakfast. Old Town Pasadena. Charming Arts and Craft house, restored. One-night stay includes breakfast and dinner.”

“Yeah. That looks like it might be good,” she commented.

“And,” he pulled her down to a chair, “it might be good for you to get away for a little. Away from . . . ah.”

“Creeps,” she said.

“Work was what I was going to say. Plus, if I am not mistaken, this looks just like the place Bill Bass was telling me about.”

“Bill?”

“Yeah, you remember Bill. All 6’ 4” of him?”

“Naturally, I remember Bill. What’s he been up to?”

“Well, you know he was in Thailand a long time?

She nodded.

“Well, he’s back Stateside with a new girlfriend. Apparently, he met her there and she talked him into coming here and helping her with a bed and breakfast.”

“You think this is the place?”

“Sounds a lot like it, based on what he told me. I’ll give him a call.”

Sam got home and checked his calendar. Looked like he had some free time. As a free-lance PI, Sam took on the occasional case looking for missing persons and some corporate espionage. He could use a little vacay himself.

He punched up Bill’s number.

“Buddy! It’s Sam. No, same old, same old. How you?”

“Gosh, that’s great. So, you are in Pasadena? Hey. I got this newspaper ad. Is that your place?”

“Wow, well, her place actually. Sorry. No, no, you’re right. Not a good idea to make that mistake. Ah. . . think about taking Kristie on a little trip. This might work.”

“Yeah, I’ll hold. She needs to check the calendar? Sure. I’ll wait. Two weeks? Should be okay. Let me get back to you. Look forward to it and catching up. Thanks, later.”

Sam smiled as he hung up. That Bill, always seems to fall right into a complete bed of roses. Place sounds like a dream!

                                                            #

Two weeks later, Sam and Kristie were packed up and on the road. She had the dog sitter coming to take care of her dog and the Sebring was gassed up and ready to go.   

At Sam’s insistence, they hit it by 8 am.

“God, Sam, the break of dawn,” Kristie complained.

“Hey, you’ll be complaining if we get a lot of traffic. So, just lean back and leave the driving to me. No points lost for snoozing.”

She couldn’t fight logic, so Kristie popped the seat back, pulled a throw snuggy over her shoulders and closed her eyes. Before long, Sam could hear a gentle snore coming from that side of the car. He smiled.

He loved watching her sleep. Hell, he thought to himself, I love watching her period. I’m one lucky guy! And that was no joke. At sixty-six years, widowed, grown kids, many men his age had no love life at all. Much less a cute, blonde fifty-five-year-old by their side.

Ah, life’s good, he thought putting on the cruise control, soft jazz on the CD. The sky was a bright, eggshell blue, not a cloud anywhere. He leaned back and sipped his coffee. His mind flicked back to Frank at the church. Jesus, a guy like that; middle-aged, paunch, bad clothes. He’d probably be lucky if he could buy some love the odd Saturday night. He shook his head. Next thing I’ll feel so bad I’ll be inviting him to dinner. Bad idea! Who knows, there might even be somebody out there for someone as hard up as Frank.

(End of Part I)

The Number Nine Bus

12 Monday Dec 2022

Posted by in Book Sales: Amazon.com/Kindle Books, cutting, dating, Fiction, homelessnes, kids, money, romance, teenagers

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                                                      THE NUMBER NINE BUS

I rode my bike up to the bus stop and parked it neatly next to the trash bin and sat myself down on the blue metal bench. Checking my watch, I saw it was ten of six pm.

Okay then, by my calculations, the Number Nine should be here at 6:10 pm.  I have twenty minutes to wait. I can live with that. 

Then, I would mount my bike on the cow-catcher at the front of the bus and be mercifully whisked out of the heat and onto my shopping errand.

Home in time to watch the new Netflix movie and in bed at a decent hour.

I patted my pocket. There were several carefully placed dollar bills and quarters there in case any of the bills stuck in the bus changer. Patiently, I waited and pulled out my IPod and stuck in my ear buds for music.

Through my Raybans I saw them walking across the street, coming my way.

Oh, no. A guy and a girl? Yes, definitely a girl, she’s shorter. Little hard to tell with all the stuff they’re carrying.

Eventually they made it to the bus stop and I looked away into middle distance, not wanting to be part of their space. Sensing my discomfort, the girl sat down with her bag between us and the guy stood up. They were talking to each other but I couldn’t hear with the ear buds.

He said something to me and I had to pull the buds out.

“…bus?  The number nine bus?”

“Yes, yes. This is the number nine bus stop. It should be here any minute.” I said helpfully. I looked at my watch. As a matter of fact, it really should have already been here, it was 6:10pm.

“…you got your bracelet, from New Mexico?” The girl was speaking at me.

“No, not New Mexico,” I replied and kept staring off to the right, away from them.

“….mine it up in the hills there,” she was saying to me. I nodded my head, the buds back in place.

My natural nosiness took over and I looked at them. Both about twenty, they were a complete rag-tag band of assorted styles, genres, mixed clothing, backpacks, bags, hats, jewelry, tats and body piercing everywhere. He was kind of shaky and red in the face.

Is he kicking? Heroin? I thought to myself. Hard to say exactly.

I had to look carefully, there was a plastic baby doll leg pinned to the side of his pack. What was most noticeable was the big green ring he had in his nose. She had nose rings too, but smaller.

I am being kind of an ass, I thought, they’re just kids.

“The bus should be along any minute now. I think maybe it’s running late,” I volunteered.

“Oh, that always happens to us,” she told me and got up and gave the guy a long extended hug.

True love. I thought. Of course, poor and in love.

She came back and sat down again. I got up and stared down the street searching desperately for that bus.

“You guys looking for a shelter ’cause there’s a Salvation Army close by…”

“No, no, we have a place to go. We’re not really hobos…my husband and I just dress like this.”

She seemed very calm with their situation. Pretty face under all the hat, feather and jewelry. He was off staring for the bus too.

“I’m from Spokane,” she volunteered. “Did you know that Spokane and Fresno are the same size? Only Spokane has more people.” This girl seemed desperate to engage me in conversation for whatever reason.

“More rain too I’ll bet,” I ventured.

“Oh, lots more rain but crazy hot this time of year. You wouldn’t believe how hot and electrical storms, lots of electrical storms.”

“Fires?”

“Oh yeah, tons of fires, crazy.” She pulled and picked at her blond hair with bright orange polish fingernails. She wasn’t really looking at me but she didn’t seem bothered by me either.

“How are the buses in Spokane?”

“They are great! Every fifteen minutes and later every half hour,” she nodded her head with assurance.

“Well, the buses in Fresno suck,” I told her looking at my watch again. It was now almost 6:30pm.

 Where the hell it that bus? The mall is going to be closed. I have skin products to buy. Damn it! I need my Clinique.

“We’re going to his Dad’s and seeing about staying the night.” She didn’t seem sure about that.

“Where does he live?”

“Riverpark area,” the guy answered. He had put his backpack down. He suddenly jumped and started hitting the bag. Something flew out and landed. They both studied the ground.

“That’s the most beautiful beetle I ever saw,” she was staring at the little grey thing on the sidewalk.

Yeah, as long as it isn’t crawling around in your backpack.

“Don’t kill it,” she said to him. He was on the ground screwing with the bug, no doubt upset it had frightened him.

“I just don’t know about this bus,” I told them. “It should have been here by now. Don’t know if it’s Saturday schedule or what.” The guy looked concerned.

“Where you going again?” I directed my question to him.

“Riverpark down Blackstone. I remember ‘cause I lived there since I was two.”

I nodded and found the location on my IPod. “This it?” He bent over to look at the phone map but didn’t get too close.   

“Yeah, that’s the place.”

“That’s a beautiful ring!” she was looking at my white pearl and malachite pinkie ring. I knew she wanted to touch it but was careful to keep her hands to herself.

“His father is from Fresno?” I asked her.

“Yeah, Fresno.”

“Well, in that case, I would probably lose the nose rings for a few days.”

She got a disturbed look on her face, frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. It was then I noticed the healed cutting scars up and down her forearm. This girl clearly had some back story. And, probably not happy .

“You know,” she had put some thought in this, “Jesus Christ was persecuted and he wore clothes just like this. We dress like this so we will be persecuted too and still carry the message.”

“Ah,” I replied.

“I don’t change myself to please other people, only to please myself,” she concluded with some finality.

How about pleasing someone enough to get a place to sleep for the night? I didn’t say anything else, her mind seemed made up.  

“I don’t know about this bus,” I said again. It was ten of seven now.

The girl disappeared in to the car wash and came back.

“The Mexican guy says no more buses,” she told us.

Damn it to hell, the Mall is going to close and I’m never going to get my stuff! I almost stamped my feet in frustration.

I walked over to my bike. Maybe I could ride there and back before it got dark.

“Perhaps if you hitch a ride with a truck they can get you to Blackstone,” I ventured.

They weren’t really listening to me anymore.

“I’m thirsty,” she was telling him. He was practically gyrating in place trying to decide what to do.

Oh, well. Guess they’ll just have to take that whole 60’s Love Child, meets Fresno Red Neck and gets ink, rings, Jesus and hits the road becoming homeless on unknown drugs and figure it out.

I got back on my bike and rode toward the mall.

Roe vs Wade: The Worm Turns

28 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by in dating, FRIENDSHIP, kids, marriage, romance, teenagers, Uncategorized

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ROE VS WADE: THE WORM TURNS

Thirty years ago when I was pregnant I was very amazed at the responses, unexpected, that I received from any number of people. I learned that in pregnancy, somehow the whole world seems to own you.

Firstly, I got a referral to an OBGYN from the medical board and went in for a visit. After suffering for 30 minutes with an older male doctor cracking jokes about sex and older women, I had to go to the counter and speak to the nurse. I did that, got my brochures and was told that “pregnancy was a disease” and I needed to treat it like that. Shocked, I rapidly found another doctor.

I was getting my hair cut at an inexpensive salon. The young man cutting my hair told me he thought I was too old to have a baby. I should have reported him to his boss, instead I changed salons. At an outdoor gathering/barbeque with ‘friends”, a friend advised me that ‘she knew someone who could help me out of my problem.’ I looked at her like the Angel of Death and quickly moved away. In addition to that remark, other ‘friends’ (mostly male) worked hard to make me feel ashamed and embarrassed about my condition. Because I was 38 years old and not 18 years old; I was not embarrassed, I got angry, finally.

Recently, when that baby turned 30 and got married, I was again faced with some similar comments. The baby, now a young lady, was engaged to a fella who got a job offer overseas. He could go but she couldn’t go unless they were married. So, the engagement was followed quickly by marriage.

I shared this good news with a ‘friend.’ Her first response was “Did she have to get married?” Unless you have lived under a rock for the last 50 years, you understand that translates into “Was she pregnant and they had to get married?” In other words, my daughter isn’t good enough to get a guy without being pregnant. A year and a half later, I’m still not a grandmother. I am also not talking to that ‘friend’ much  these days.

Since I’m the age that I am; I can remember the days before Roe and the days after Roe. I have known girls who ‘had to get married’ and I have known girls who gave up babies for adoption. In addition to that, I have known women who have gotten pregnant and have been ordered by husbands and boyfriends to get an abortion. I have known the ones who resisted the man’s wishes and said “No, I’m having this baby.” Also, those who buckled under the man’s pressure and got the abortion. Guess who, after all these years, are the happiest and the most unhappy? Spoiler alert, the women who stuck up for themselves and their babies are the happiest.

So, what does this all mean? After centuries of men having children whether they wanted to or not and often more children than they wanted; we have situations where men are not getting the children they want. Women are using birth control, the birth rate has dropped dramatically. Add in abortion rights, the number of unwanted children around has dropped to almost nothing. The worm has turned. Men are having to take responsibility for wanting to have children. They are having to ask, for the very first time ever, asking the woman to please carry their children. How different is that?

Famous couples that broke up over the child issue: Here are three very famous couples that broke up and then remarried, apparently over the child/childless issue. Bruce Springsteen and Julianne Phillips; they got a divorce when she wanted to focus on her career. He remarried Patti Scialfa and has three children now. Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johanssen, they got a divorce and he remarried Blake Lively and they have three children. Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston; they got a divorce, he remarried Angelina Joie. They have 3 adopted children and 3 natural children.

My feeling is that if there are 3 very famous couples who have broken up over this issue, there are probably hundreds and hundreds of other couples who have broken up over the very same issues.

For hundreds of years, girls who ‘got into trouble’ were sent away to homes for unwed mothers to have their babies and then shamed into giving their babies up for adoption. These numbers of unwed mothers and ‘unwanted’ babies, at least in this country, have dropped to almost zero. I personally know of couples who are unable to conceive. Couples who desperately want children and are faced with a country where ‘free’ babies are virtually impossible to find. I have seen couples suffer through fertility clinics, surrogate mother scams and painful adoption proceedings.

Roe v Wade will make a lot of people very unhappy. The one sector of our population who are heaving a secret sigh are married couples looking to adopt a baby. I don’t know, maybe the universe is calling out for more babies.

As a society we need to consider why it is that so many young women of childbearing ages don’t want to have children. Why? Is it just the cost? Well, the cost is of course part, but not all. Could it be that we are still caught up in the shame-blame cycles of shaming and blaming pregnant women for their ‘condition’? Do we ever consider that men (of all ages) use women to satisfy their sexual needs? Does it take two generations of women refusing to bear children for men to finally realize that, yes, they too want children? It’s like a thousand country western songs, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Pregnancy is not a curse or a disease. It is a gift. A lot more people need to start thinking that way. If you don’t believe me, sit down and have a chat with a childless couple. If we supported women and their children more as a society more, maybe there wouldn’t be such a rush to the abortion clinics.

The end.

Cew 6/22

Devine Tragedy – A Teenage Romance

11 Saturday Jun 2022

Posted by in romance, teenagers

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Courtney E. Webb

Love Is In The Air: Love Stories by [Akshay Sonthalia , William "Brent" Heckler, Richard Saddlemire, Sawyer Stewart, Mark Dobosz, Michael Calderwood, Sabrina Herrmann, Mary Binninger, Tureygua Inaru, Andrew Mengel]

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Akshay Sonthalia

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Love Is In The Air: Love Stories Kindle Edition

by Akshay Sonthalia  (Author), & 9 more  Format: Kindle Edition

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A collection of this year’s best stories
With this collection of short stories and poems, Indian publisher Shail Raghuvanshi managed to immerse us in powerful words and characters that take you inside their hearts. In these snippets of life, you learn something about yourself, allowing you to bring some power into your own life.

From a ‘love story within a love story,’ magic on a stage, nostalgic memories, and smoky bar friendships, this collection provide profoundly empathetic portrayals of various human experiences.

You’ll laugh and cry as you sink into world after world, character after character. Love lost, love found, and love redeemed. Romantic love, platonic love, and the unexpected – all these stories and poems celebrate love just like it is in real life. First, you’ll forget yourself as you read. Then, upon surfacing, there is the possibility to know yourself and others anew.

‘Love is in the Air’ is a collection of 20 poignant love short stories and 9 feel-good love poems.