Sunday, December 25, 2016

The Christmas Chase


Like many of you, my family has some unique holiday traditions.  My favorite is probably the annual feast of homemade pizza while we watch "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" and sip Coca-Cola from the mini glass bottles.

The runner-up has a little more meaning for me personally, but especially this year.

My mother-in-Law Evelyn Overholts passed away on November 30th of this year, just 24 days short of her 54th birthday.   She'd fought a fierce three year battle with leukemia.  As you could expect, this Christmas season has seen a bevy of emotions for my family and extended family and my runner-up tradition is an example of that.

Five years ago, I started writing a short story that I read to my family on Christmas Eve.  This year's is called "The Christmas Chase" and it is dedicated to Evelyn.


The three McMurray children liked Christmas a bunch,
Even more than their father liked Pizza for lunch.
So on Christmas Eve when they lay down to sleep,
They couldn’t get rest.
Not even a peep.
They tossed and they turned, pondering all the morning would bring.
A ninja turtle for Jase?  For Kelsey and Kaelin some bling?
Seconds turned to minutes and minutes to hours,
And yet the anticipation never loss power.
“I wonder what we’ll get,” Kaelin said with a smile.
Kelsey rolled over in bed. “I’ve been wondering that for a while.
I hope we get Kings Island passes and Jase gets a rubber serpent.”
“I don’t care about that,” Kaelin said.  “I want a servant.
Someone to clean our room and put away our clothes.”
“Don’t be silly, Kaelin,” Kelsey turned up her nose.
“Slavery is bad and Mom and Dad can’t afford a Butler or maid.
And I’m pretty sure,” she added, “that’s why they had Jase.”
“But Jase doesn’t ever clean,” Kaelin snarkly replied. 
“He only gets into things and slobbers and cries.”
“Don’t forget,” Kelsey interjected, “that he uses Barbie as a hammer.”
She was going to add more but from the roof came a clamor. 
Kaelin sat up so quickly.  “Did you hear that noise?  It sounded like bells.”
“Could it be?” Kelsey’s eyes widened.  “Santa and his elves?”
Kelsey and Kaelin leaped out of bed and tiptoed down the hall.
They came to the edge of the living room and couldn’t believe what they saw.
“It’s him,” Kaelin whispered.  “Right there in the red.”
Kelsey pressed a finger to her lips.  “Shhhh.  We’re supposed to be in bed.”
From that point on, the two little girls barely even breathed.
They were so enamored they didn’t notice the pitter patter of little feet.
It wasn’t an elf or a blonde hairy dog. 
It wasn’t a hungry dad or even their mom.
Jase slipped right by them and headed for Santa’s bag.
“No! No! No!” the girls said with a gasp. 
“Stay away from there, Jase!” the little girls blared.
But Jase didn’t hear or Jase didn’t care. 
He just hurried on over with his ornery grin.
Opened the bag and climbed right in.
Santa, listening to his IPOD, didn’t even notice.
The glass of milk and plate of cookies were his only focus.
 He drank and ate them real fast,
Hurled his bag over his shoulder then was out in a flash. 
Kelsey and Kaelin went white as they turned toward each other,
“What do we do?” Kaelin asked.  “Wake up father and mother?”
“No,” Kelsey said. “They will be mad and we won’t get any gifts.
We gotta go get him and we gotta be swift.”
They slipped on their boots and coats then rushed outside,
And through the swirling snow, they searched the sky.
“There!” Kaelin pointed, “On Hudson and Savannah’s roof!
There’s a sleigh with eight reindeer licking their hoofs.”
They had to get up there but there was no way to climb.
Then Kelsey thought of an idea in the St. Nick of time.
“In their yard, under the fresh fallen snow!
We jump together on the trampoline and up we will go.”
They raced to the trampoline then bounced in the air,
And landed on the roof with little time to spare.
As the McMurray girls climbed in the sleigh,
Santa wailed his commands and the reindeer obeyed.
With a kick of their legs, they took off in flight.
Kelsey and Kaelin held on to each other as they sped through the night.
In a blink of an eye, in no time at all,
They landed on the roof of Aunt Jessica and Uncle Paul’s.
“I know this place,” Kelsey said, “But why are we here?”
“To borrow a sander?” Kaelin said.  “Or fix one of the deer?”
“No Kaelin, that’s not what I mean. 
This isn’t our street.  This isn't our scene."
"Don't worry about that now," Kaelin said as she stood.
"We gotta find Jase or we'll lose him for good."
Kelsey nodded in agreement then opened Santa's bag.
Kaelin climbed in first and Kelsey followed without lag.
There was a mountain of presents so wide and so tall.
They tumbled half way down before their momentum did stall.
Kelsey picked herself up.  "Now I'll find Jase and you go get Santa's attention.
"But try not to surprise him, because he probably suffers from hypertension."
Kaelin shrugged because she had no idea what that meant,
But toward the top of the mountain of presents she made her accent.
When she poked her head out of the bag she couldn't believe what she witnessed.
Daphne and Dahlia were up to their knees in all kinds of mischief.
Paper and toys were spread all over the room.
The glass of milk was knocked over and the tree was awaiting its doom. 
But with a twirl of his fingers, Santa cleaned up the mess,
Patted the little girls on the head and sent them to bed.
His IPOD still blaring, Santa reached for the bag.
Kaelin ducked back inside and went limp like a rag.
A few seconds later the bag was back in the sleigh.
Santa’s gave his commands and the sleigh pulled away.
In the time it takes for a snowflake to melt in the palm of your hand,
The sleigh was slowing and the reindeer were preparing to land.
“Where are we now?” Kaelin asked, as the mountain shook under foot.
The bag opened a bit and two hands appeared covered in soot.
As presents flew passed her, Kaelin caught a few names.
“Christopher! Carlee! Calem and Cayla!” she exclaimed.
“Kelsey come here!  I know where we are!”
Kelsey climbed up to the top where the bag was ajar.
Her mouth fell open when she spotted the Mason kids asleep under the tree.
"We were at Daphne's and Dahlia's but now we’re at Chris and Carlee's?
 This doesn't make sense, we're all over the map.
I think Santa had too much eggnog and is in need of a nap."
Santa finished his duties and was back in a hurry,
And the sisters resumed their search for Jase William McMurray.
As the sleigh coursed through the night, the girls called out his name,
"Come out now, Jase," they demanded, "This isn't a game!"
But Jase made no sounds and was nowhere in sight,
Though they searched all the presents with a Barbie flashlight,
They couldn't find him, couldn't find him at all.
The mountain was tall and he was so small.
Then from outside of the bag they heard a giggle,
They poked their heads out and solved the Jase riddle.
Their little brother, it appeared was working for St. Nick.
Santa gave Jase some unwrapped presents and he ran off right quick.
Jase darted up the stairs where four little girls slumbered,
A present for each one in the appropriate number.
“A book for Clara,” Kaelin stated, “And my little pony for Lucy,”
“A dragon for Tali and for Ellie a little La La Loopsy.”
“They will love their presents,” Kelsey added, “And I’m glad Jase is safe.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why we’re here at this place.”
“I know it’s confusing,” Kaelin said, “but hasn’t it been fun?
And I’m sure Santa will return to our house when the gift giving's done.”
Kelsey nodded in agreement and they hid once again.
Jase climbed in next to Santa and the sleigh began to ascend. 
It zipped through the night and girls went along for the ride.
While St. Nick jammed to his music with his honorary elf at his side.
As swift as the wind blows, the familial pattern continued,
They made stops at Aden, Liam’s, Gloria’s and Isaiah’s venues.
They visited Laeven’s, Peggy’s and Aunt Kayla’s too.
Before stopping at Grandma Sheri’s and Papaw Don's for a quick rendezvous.
As many will tell you, Santa is not known to be tardy,
They even swung by Kentucky to visit Papaw Marty's.
Then Santa gave a command and the sleigh whirled around.
It blazed through the sky then landed without making a sound.
When the girls poked their heads out, they discovered they were not on a roof,
At first they assumed that Santa had goofed,
But when they saw him standing in the snow with a tear in his eye,
As he stared pensively at the little house on Dean Drive,
They knew without words that there had been no mistake,
The man in the red shared their heartbreak.
St. Nicholas removed his hat and earbuds then lowered his chin,
“Though you’ve said goodbye,” he said, “her story didn’t end.
I know you’ve been wondering why I took you this way.
I didn’t have too much eggnog and the GPS works just fine on the sleigh.
I wanted you to see that the most important things won’t be found under a tree,
They are the people you love, your friends and family. 
Your Grandma Lou Lou loved you so so much,
And her memory can be found in your mother's touch.
When she holds you after a bad dream,
Or when she cleans up and bandages your scraped knees.
Those are lessons she learned that she will pass on to you,
And one day you will pass them on to your children, too.
Now, we have one more present to deliver,
There's a grandpa in there, in need of three little givers.”
Without any instructions, the McMurray children knew what to do.
They climbed out of the sleigh, and across the front lawn they flew,
Inside the house they gave their grandpa warms hugs,
And successfully chased away the remaining bah humbug. 
Then they returned to the sleigh, prayed then departed,
And in a blink of an eye, they were back where they started,
Snuggled up together so warm in their beds,
As memories of  the most important things replayed in their heads. 



Sunday, October 30, 2016

Halloween Haiku Quiz

Because I was bored and laid up from a minor surgery, I decided to have a little literary fun and create a Halloween Haiku quiz.  How well can you identify some of these Halloween and Horror classics from a 17 syllable poem? 



A block head gets rock
Best friend waits for Santa Squash
Lack of parenting


A fat lazy cat
And his loyal companion
Flee from pirate ghosts


Brother celebrates
By stabbing older sister
And younger sister


Frankenstein’s Monster
Befriends a cute little girl
And Wolf-Man’s got nards!


Three sister witches
A virgin lights a candle
 Spell Casting ensues


Local Idiot
Summons child stealing troll
Mom’s Love and Miak


Diverse relatives
Creepy romance and hump day
A catchy theme song


Three spooky uncles
And their precocious nephew
Unfinished business


Small business owners
The flowers are still standing
One angry sailor


Confused Mama’s boy
A beautiful fugitive
One bloody shower


Winter getaway
A bad case of writer’s block
Here’s Johnny Ice Pop


Scrolls for answers

























How well did you do?  Let me know in the comments and please share with others!






Thursday, June 9, 2016

Heroes of Literature Part One: Wilson Rawls...and his wife?



I have a confession to make. I cry during movies…and while reading…and sometimes during songs. I wept like a baby when Little Foot’s mom passed in The Land before Time and again when Bubba died in Forrest Gump’s arms. I baptized the final chapters of The Fault in our Stars with way too many 30-year-old man tears and just a few days ago my eyes glistened while listening to one of my wife’s romance novels as we drove back to Ohio after a family vacation (Damn you, Nicholas Sparks!)

               
I am emotional man from a long line of emotional men and when moved just right, I become a blubbering idiot.  I simply can’t help it, it’s who I am.

 I knew nothing of this penchant for waterworks until fifth grade when I felt warm tears streak down my cheeks as my teacher, Mrs. Jones, read the climactic chapter in what she said was her favorite novel.  It’s one thing to sob in a darkened movie theater or shed a tear while reading by flashlight in one’s bedroom, it’s another thing entirely to cry while sitting on the reading rug with your classmates.  So, even though I wasn’t the only one, I remember my embarrassment vividly. 

crying cry pikachu sad
Full Disclosure:  I'm not a Pokemon 

Who’s responsible for making fifth grade me cry?  Who’s to blame for my embarrassment?

Mrs. Jones? The Fifth Grade Curriculum?  My over-sensitivity?  (Definitely not that last one)

The answer:   Wilson Rawls…and his wife.

Don't be fooled by their 1950's neighborly looks, these two are trouble.

Wilson Rawls may not be a household name in the literary world like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling but there is a good chance you’ve read one of his books, most likely the one about a boy, his two hounds, and a certain scarlet fern.

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m referring to the beloved children’s novel Where the Red Fern Grows.


If you’ve read the book you probably understand why fifth grade me christened the reading rug with his tears.  What you may not know, however, is that Mr. Rawls’s most famous work would have been lost to ashes had it not been for his wife.

From a young age, and despite little formal education, Woodrow Wilson Rawls dreamed of writing a book like his childhood hero Jack London.  While bouncing around from job to job during the Great Depression, Wilson spent his free time scratching out manuscripts on any scrap of paper he could find, including old grocery bags. 

Back in my day, we used them as book covers...

 In total he wrote five manuscripts, but due to the poor spelling and complete lack of punctuation, he was too embarrassed to let anyone see them and for years considered himself a failure.   Stifling his career before it began.

But there was a flicker of hope and her name was Sophie Ann Styczinski.

 Sophie was a budget analyst in Idaho.  She and Wilson met while working for the Atomic Energy Commission and after falling in love planned a wedding for August of 1958.  Though Wilson loved his fiancĂ© dearly, he still considered himself a failure and set his mind to finally killing his dream of being an author before Sophie could ever discover it.  So, two weeks before the wedding he burned all of his manuscripts and short stories.


But like a good horror movie monster, some dreams just refuse to die.
Jaime, your really pale boyfriend is awake

 A few months after the wedding, Mr. Rawls finally revealed his dream to his wife and confessed to burning all the manuscripts. To Wilson’s surprise, Sophie encouraged him to write again and after quitting his job, Wilson scrawled out the first draft of what would eventually become Where the Red Fern Grows.  Sophie then edited the draft, typed it up and submitted it for publishing. 

The novel was first serialized in the Saturday Evening Post before being traditionally published by Double Day.  Still, it would be another six years before librarians and teachers discovered the novel and turned it into the hit it remains today.  Through all that time, Sophie’s faith in and support for her husband never faltered.

In the words of the author himself, “She bought the groceries, paid the rent and growled at neighbors who gossiped about her lazy husband.”

Wilson Rawls would go on to author another book and share his story and passion for writing as a public speaker, but he never forgot or failed to mention the great role his beloved wife played in making his dream of making fifth graders cry a reality.

professor mcgonagall animated GIF

I kid. I kid.  I don’t really hold a bitter grudge against Wilson and Sophie for making fifth grade me cry and I’m not ashamed anymore.  Where the Red Fern Grows is a damn good book and the way I see it, Wilson and Sophie earned those tears.  But the lesson I learned from the life of Wilson and Sophie Rawls isn’t about tears or even red ferns, it’s about love. 

In my opinion, the qualities that make an author special (passion, creativity, voice) come from the soul but as Wilson and Sophie Rawls proved, it doesn’t hurt to have a soulmate to help along the way.

sources: 

http://www.trelease-on-reading.com/rawls.html

http://www.eduplace.com/kids/hmr/mtai/rawls.html