Hidden Among The Toys

     It was shortly after the 2000 year.  I was visiting with my sister being very much pregnant with my third child while our little children played together.  Her oldest daughter is 18 months older than my oldest son, who was 3 and a half at the time and who is a year older than my daughter.  Having them all close in age made it fun for visiting and watching the children play and interact with one another.  My sister also had twin boys around 6 or 7 months old at the time.  Although the children loved looking and holding the babies they weren't quite mobile enough to keep the older children's attention much of the time.  The older children were much happier playing with the toys in the bedroom.

     At the time my sister lived in a small apartment getting ready to buy a house.   We were in the kitchen starting to get a late lunch ready.  We decided to feed the twins first then the older children since they were happily playing in the bedroom.  My sister and I talked and laughed as she fed one twin and I fed the other jarred baby food mixed in with a little baby cereal.  Moments passed when her daughter entered the kitchen area looking around. 

     "Where's Bam-Bam?"  she asked.  Bam-Bam was the nickname we had given to my oldest son, Christian.  He had beautiful white hair and was a solid little guy like the cartoon character from the Flintstones. 

     Lisa and I looked at each other bewildered.  "What do you mean 'Where's Bam-Bam'"?  I asked her.

     "Oh, he's just gone."  she says in a matter-of-factly childish voice.  She turns around and prances off, her blonde pigtails bouncing off her sholders.

     "GONE?"  my sister and I shout out.

     We both stand up from the table and dash into the bedroom.  My daughter Beth and Abbie resumed playing with Barbie dolls on the floor.  Other than that the room was quiet.  My sister opens her bedroom door and looks around.  No little boy to be found.  I look into the bathroom which is directly next to my nieces bedroom and across from my sister's bedroom.  Even though he wasn't fully potty trained yet I was hoping to see him on the toilet.  Nothing.  I met up with my sister in the livingroom.  From there we can see every room in the apartment.  We stood there in awe looking around trying to make sense out of the whole situtation.  From the kitchen table we can see the only door in the apartment and we didn't see it open.  Besides, it was locked with a sliding chain lock. 

     "Do you think he could of tried to open the door and was able to squeeze through the opening?"  my sister asked me as we both stared at the door. 

     My brain went numb.  He never tried to leave the house before.  But there is always a first time.  I shrugged my sholders and shook my head, "I don't know.  I am not sure." 

     "I am going outside to look.  Stay here with the kids."  she directed to me. 

     I go back into the kitchen.  Could he have climbed into the cupboards and we didn't notice?  I thought.  The twins were happily slapping their hands into their plates of mushy goo and sucking on their fingers.  I bend over and open up all the cupboards.  Nothing.  My chair was up against a sliding glass door which let to a small porch.  I know he wasn't out there.  I could hear my sister calling Christian's name from outside.  The windows are open?  Could he have pushed on a screen and fall out?  My sister's apartment was 2 stories up.  I run into my sister's bedroom.  The screen was intact.  I jolt into my niece's room.  The screen was intact there too.  Where could he have gone?!  It seemed as if time was standing still.  Seconds were dragging on, so it seemed.  I looked at my niece's bed and quickly bent down to look under it.  Nothing.  I look around her room.  In her closet was her toy box with chalkboard sliding doors.  The doors were closed.  I had to look.  I slide one door open and there was my son!  He was fast asleep in the toy box.

     I went over to the window and called out to my sister to let her know I found him.   She runs upstairs and flys into the apartment.  "Where is he?"  she calls out relieved but wanting visual confirmation. 

    I smile and point her over to the toy box.  She looks in and sees him sleeping.  My daughter and niece laugh at the site of Christian in there.  "There's Bam-Bam!"  my niece calls out.





Christian asleep in my niece's toy box.



His feet on the other side of the toy box.

     

 

    

I slide him carefully out of the toy box and lay him down on the couch.  He never once opened his eyes as I transferred him to a more comfortable, and noticable, location.  I don't know what made him think to fall asleep in the toy box and not in another area more comfortable like the bed or the couch.  I know I will never know.  I don't think I took my eyes off of him for the rest of the day. 

Sundae Disaster

     It was the summer of 1995.  I just finished off my senior year at Grandville High School and I was getting ready to attend Grand Valley State University in the fall.  I ended up getting a new job as a waitress at a popular chain restaurant in western Michigan.  I am not going to reveal the name of this restaurant as they are still in business and well respected in the area.  I still enjoy their great food and delicious pies, especially my personal favorite, rhubarb pie. 

     It started out as a great place to work.  The servers had a set schedule to work during the week.  It made it easy for those who were moonlighting other jobs.  Breakfast and dinner staff never intertwined.  If a server worked Friday then they would have Saturday off and next weekend the server would work Saturday and have Friday off.  The restaurant was closed Sundays.  The schedule was fair to all.  On occurances if someone needed their time off they would post a note on a bulletin board in the break room.  Servers wanting more hours can look at the board and pick up other server's hours.  It worked out quiet nice. 

     Upon my hiring I told my manager that on Thursday nights that he had me scheduled I would have to change it because I was already scheduled to have an evening class Thursday nights.  He was wonderful about it and said when the time got closer that we would be able to switch it around.  I was thrilled working there with a set schedule and a great staff.  I waitressed at a previous restaurant, Apple Blossom Family Restaurant, and I really enjoyed it. 

     During my break, one day, I was in the mood for a bowl of cheesy broccoli soup.  I went to another waitress to ring up my order. 
 
     "You don't want a bowl."  she replies back to me.
    
     I give her a strange look, "Yes, I do."  I say politely yet firmly back.
 
     "Trust me, " she says, "Let me ring you up a cup of soup then I will show you why."

     She leads me over to where the soups are kept.  Several keg style containers held a variety of soups.  The waitress dips the ladel in the cheesy broccoli soup and pours it into my cup.  It filled the cup.

     "Now watch this."  she says.  She dips the same ladel into the soup and pours it into the bowl.  It fills up that as well.  "The presentation of it plays with your mind.  The cup is smaller but taller than the bowl whereas the bowl is wider giving the impression of having more."

     I was shocked by the revelation.  How sneaky!  I wondered how many other restaurants do that same trick.  From then on in my life when I order soup I order the cup, never a bowl.

     Things were going smoothly for a few more weeks until one weekend night.  It must of been a hot evening because the customers who were coming in were wanting sundae's.  Part of our job as a waitress was to make the sundae's.  I have never been good at scooping ice cream.  It's cold and hard and if you don't watch your grip your scoop can go flying across the room.  Somehow as I scoop, the back of my hand would touch the sides of the container getting the back of my hands all full of ice cream.  I just didn't like the added mess.  But scooping was part of the job so I didn't mind it too much having to scoop now and then.

     I had two masterpiece large hot fudge sundae's on a tray that I was about to take out.  The 3 scoops of ice cream was layered with hot fudge, topped with whipped cream, nuts and a cherry placed perfectly on top.  It was so beautifully made that it should of been a picture.  I pick up the tray and begin to take it out.  The manager comes around the corner and stops me looking concerned. 

     "Did you measure those sundae's?"  he asks.

     "Measure?  I didn't know we had to weigh them."  I replied back. 

     He lead me back over to the dessert station and in the back corner he pulls out a small scale.  He places one of the sundae's on the scale.  It was way over the recommended weight for the sundae's.  He told me to give these sundae's to the dishwashers to eat and he would show me how to make a sundae within the recommended weight.  He drops two small scoops of ice cream into the tall dessert glass.  He drizzles a scoopful of the hot fudge over the top and lightly adding the whipped cream, nuts and cherry.  He places the sundae back on the scale.  It was the recommended weight.  It was sad looking.  All the sundae pieces were within the sides of the glass.  It was nothing like picture perfect.  I would be disappointed if I was served this.  But he made me serve it anyway.  With a sad heart I delivered my pitaful sundae's. 

     Shortly later another table orders sundae's, both large and small.  I was annoyed how the small and the large sundae held the same amount of scoops yet I had to make it look like the large had more.  Sure enough as I was about to serve them the manager comes around the corner and wanted to see the weight on my sundae's.  It was still over the recommended weight.  This time he wanted me to give them to the cooks and do it again.  I was getting very frustrated over this.  I did like he said but I guess my scoops held more than his did. 

     More and more tables were ordering sundae's.  It seemed like a cruel joke.  I just couldn't get them right.  The manager was getting more and more upset with me.  When a customered ordered them I would wait to make them until I knew the manager was either in the back room harrassing someone else or on the floor checking up on other tables.  I was about it tears.  At one point I had to grab another waitress to make them for me because I didn't want to get yelled at again.  She left them on the counter for me.  I grabbed my tray and the sundae nazi of a manager came around the corner.  He looked at my sundae's.  I looked back at him with a confident smile since I knew they had to of been right since the other waitress made them for me.  He picked one up and placed it on the scale.  It was over by a few ounces.  He told me to make them again.  Seriously?  A few ounces over!  I was ready to toss the sundae at him.  At one point I was so nervous making the sundae's that as I was delivering them to an elderly couple the tall glass tipped over and accendently dropped one in the lap of the elderly gentleman.  I was so shocked.  I never dropped anything before and of course it had to be on this day with the hot fudge sundae.  I offered to pay for their desserts and I went back to make another one for him.  I wanted to crawl into a hold after that moment. 

     After when customers were through eating I would stop asking them for dessert.  I purposely was rude to customers and not go back to check on them because I didn't want them to order sundae's.  I would walk by acting like I was extremely busy and place their check's down on the table.  I just wanted my hellish night of sundae making to be over with.  Some customers just came in for dessert and I would cringe when they would order the sundae's.  I wanted to tell them that the sundae's were not impressive, that they were lacking in every which way but I couldn't.  I wanted to let them know that they would be disappointed in my sundae's as the manager made me make them look pitiful and not delicious looking like the picture in the menu.  Then I would turn and enter the kitchen of doom to prepare their lousy dessert. 

     The night finally ended and I was more than glad to go home.  I don't think that manager ever bothered me about the desserts ever again.  I don't know if he was having a bad day and taking it out on me or what his deal was that night.  I just let it go and put that bad day behind me. 

     College was starting up soon and I talked with him about changing my schedule around like he promised when I first signed up to work at the restaurant.  He changed his story around and said it was my responsibility to find someone to work my shift.  I was upset by that.  I asked around but servers either needed that day at home or they worked another job and couldn't do it.  That Thursday afternoon, when I knew my manager would be there, I called in and said I wouldn't be coming anymore.  He asked me why.  I told him my class was more important and I couldn't find anyone to switch a day with him.  He was upset with me.  I reminded him what he said when he first hired me and he tried to apologize but it was too late.  It was time for me to move on and start another chapter in my life.   

Memory Of A Song

     Have you ever heard a song and flashed back to a memory from when you were young?  I believe certain songs, when heard at the right moment, helps create a special memory that is forever stored in a file located way back in the corner of our brains.  I have several songs that when I hear them I am catapulted back in time to relive the moment in my thoughts. 



     It was the summer of 1992.  I finished up my freshman year of high school at Nouvel Catholic Central in Saginaw.  Unfortunally, I enjoyed many other things rather than school and my grades suffered because of that.  Since my grades were well below "f"antastic I had to take a few classes of summer school at Arthur Hill High School. 

     It wasn't so bad taking summer classes.  Some of my friends that aided in my dimishing grades were the same ones in my classes at "The Hill".  Personally, I think we all corrupted each other and we enjoyed it.   Before school and out on breaks we would gather in packs out in the parking lot to see who has cigarettes and some would be passed around.  Sometimes the security guard would even walk over and smoke with us.  He would never give out one of his cigarettes but he would offer his zippo for anyone who needed it. 

     One beautiful warm summer day we were tired of sitting in the classroom.  We passed notes with each other daring to just get up and walk out.  Finally, my friend Shannon and I decided to go for it.  Right in the middle of class we packed up our stuff and just blatantly walked out of class.  We went out to the parking lot for a cigarette and to decided what to do next.  Soon another friend, Erin, joined in with another girl from class.  FREEDOM!  We decided to call a friend of ours ,Scott who just graduated from another school, to come and pick us up.   We walk back to the school parking lot to wait. 

     Scott pulls into the parking lot in his pick-up.  He brought along his friend Joe.  Shannon shouts out, "SHOT-GUN!" and squeezes her way between them in the front.  Erin, the other girl, and myself climb up and over into the bed of the truck and make ourselves comfortable in the corners of the truck resting our arms on the side.  We took off.  The music was loud and we were young and carefree. 

     Scott turns down the radio and hollar's out that he has a new song for us to listen to.  He opens up the cassette case and pops a cassette into the player in the dash.  We start to hear the lyrics:

Blame it all on my roots

I showed up in boots

And ruined your black tie affair...

We all started to groan and scream, "NOOOO!  IT'S COUNTRY!  WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO COUNTRY?!"  But Scott was persistent that we listened to it.   

     The song grew on us.  It wasn't long after that we were wanting to listen to Garth Brook's "Friends In Low Places" song.  By the time school dances came around we all had the song memorized and we would sing along, badly, with the lyrics. 

     This was my first exposure (besides Kenny Rodgers but everyone loves his classic songs) to country music.  His album "No Fences" was enjoyable.  To my suprise the album came out 2 years prior.  I still prefer other methods of music genre over country music but I can tolerate some country songs. 

    

    

Storms: Fear to Fascination

                                               

     As a child I dreaded storms.  It terrified me.  Looking back now I think maybe it was when the lights would go out that would terrify me more.  It seemed with every strong storm our lights would go out leaving us in the dark.  I would cry and be in such a fright that I could barely move.  I would freeze up.  When WNEM TV 5 out of Saginaw would interrupt a show forcasting a storm I would start to get nervous.  I ran around the house gathering up all the candles, batteries and flashlights and placing them on our coffee table.  My sister would grab blankets and pillows and have them ready in case a tornado was spotted and we had to make a mad dash downstairs to our creepy basement.  As much as I feared tornado's I think I feared our basement more.  It would be a hard decision on what I would rather had to deal with. 

     I remember hearing a story of how a tornado came across Saginaw and damaged the huge concrete blue whale at the Saginaw Children's Zoo.  I loved that whale.  At our cabin at Houghton Lake we would see boats that broke loose from their anchors or docks float on by.  Trees would bend and break.  My grandpa would drive us around afterward to survey the damage and to see if anyone needed help.  I even recall a time when a tornado has been spotted in Houghton Lake and we had to run across to our neighbors to take shelter.  As a child that can be scary. 

     One day I was reading a Highlights magazine.  In it was a poem from a child about how he looks at lightning storms as God's fireworks for us to enjoy.  That really hit me.  I loved fireworks.  How could storms be much different.  I was looking forward to the next lightning storm.  I don't remember how long I had to wait but I knew I would look at it differently.  I still gathered up the candles, batteries and flashlights for same measure.  

     From that point on I fell in love with the storms.  Each lightning strike was unique in its own way.  Even the thunder was interesting to listen to.  Some would start out with a low crackling sound and roar its way to a loud boom.  Some would give no warning before its blast that would shake the whole house.  Before I would know it I could hear the faint sounds of thunder fading away in the distance and the rain would slowly come to an end.  Even the power of the wind was amazing.  Trees that have been planted in the Earth for years can bend over in the sharp wind and some can even snap.  There is an awe about it.  Hail was a special treat because we didn't see that too often.  The fun part was when the storm was done my sibilings and I would dash outside and collect all the hail.  My mom would stick it in the freezer to save it for us.  I am sure she took it out when we stopped thinking about it. 

     It was a real treat when I was dating Brian and we would drive off to Saugatuck, Mi. and head to Oval Beach and watch the storms come in from across Lake Michigan.  The lightning would stretch out its fingers across the dark cloudy sky and light it up.  Some streaks would dip down and touch the lake.  It was a beautiful sight.  I find the storms so inspiring and peaceful.  

Picture by Wunderground.com  Lightning over Lake Michigan.

Photo by JessicAllen in the News Sun Times looking over Lake Michigan.

     Once we had children I wanted to pass my love of storms down to them.  They get excited when they see storm clouds coming.  We can see the storms coming in from the west.   At times, in our location, it seems as if the storms split in two and avoids teasingly.  Some of the dark clouds will dip south and heads towards Mt. Pleasant and other clouds will head north around the Cadillac area and persue east from there.  We can stand outside and hear the thunder booming around us while looking up and seeing blue skies.  

     One particular storm I remember where an F1 torando came across Osceola County knocking down trees to Spring Hill Camp.  The kids and I were expecting my mom, my sister and her children to swing by on their way from Houghton Lake.  She said the wind was so fierce on the highway that they had to pull over and go into a ditch while it poured rain and and hailed.  She was probably 15 miles from our house.  She gets to our house and looks down at our gravel driveway and noticed that it was completely dry.  My children were outside looking at the dark swirling clouds to the north and not very far away.  The storm missed us by a few miles. 

     Another time we just got chickens and put up a metal shed to turn that into the chicken coop.  No more than a month later a severe wind storm came across.  No rain, just wind.  Brian and I were watching TV when we looked out the picture window and see our shed breaking apart and blowing across the yard.  It was like seeing something out of the Wizard of Oz.  We ran outside to catch it.  A few of our older children came out also to help.  It took four of us to grab a hold of the roof that detached itself from the walls to pull it back to where we had our chicken coop set up.  Amazingly there wasn't a single chicken that was injured or killed during that event.   

     There is something, now, that draws me in to watching a good storm.  The smell in the air before the storm and after is refreshing.  You can't explain it but you know when that storm smell is in the air.  Maybe it's seeing God's force in nature that is amazing.  I am not sure.  But I do know that storms are a beauty in itself.

   

Imaginary Friends Don't Use Bathrooms

     There is a playful innocense in childhood.  Imaginations drift to their furthest potential in those young developing years.  Somewhere in time we lose that creativity in our minds.  We stop using that playfulness our minds can produce and replace it with an older way of thinking.  Here, I think back to that time when I was a young child who had fun with an imagination that was endless.

     I was the youngest in my family.  My brother is 4 years older than me and my sister is 7 years older.  There were times when I wanted to play a game that was more in my age range like Candy Land or Go Fish and no one wanted to play with me.  I would ask my mom but she would be preoccupied with something.  Often she would tell me to play on my own.  And I did.  I invented a friend.  Jody was her name.  She was about my age, dark hair and great at everything.  We would play games or Barbies, go on adventures outside, dance and even swing on the swingset.  I had a great vivid imagination and sometimes my imagination would step outside of the boundries and leak into the real world. 

     One day Nonnie, that is what we called our grandmother, was watching me.  I think my mom was at a school event for my brother and sister.  Nonnie was busy doing something and "Jody" and I were busy playing house.  We would act like we had important guests coming over for tea and we were preparing for their arrival.  We even dressed up for the occasion. 

     I excused myself to use the bathroom.  A pretend knock was at the door.  "Hang on, Jody.  I am almost done."  I would call out.

     I opened the bathroom door.  "Oh, You have to use it too, Jody?"  It may have looked like I was starting off into thin air but in my mind "Jody" was really there.  "Okay, you can use it now.  I will even lock the door for you so you can have some privacy."  I turned the lock and shut the door.   I went back to my bedroom and resumed setting my bed up to be used for the tea party.  We had very important stuffed animal guests that were to arrive at any moment now.

     Our house had 2 bathrooms in it.  Actually one was a half bath.  It was very small.  A daddy long-leg spider often camped out in a small web in the corner right above the toilet.  My sibilings and I avoided that bathroom because of it.  The spider could of used the advantage of us sitting on the toilet to swing down on its web and crawl into our ears and lay eggs.  It probably wouldn't of happened but we were young and we didn't want to take any chances.  Our main bathroom was the only door in the house that had a lock on it besides the doors that lead outside.  This was our main bathroom in the house.  

     Nonnie comes around the corner to use the bathroom and found out it was locked.  "Jill?"  she asks seeing if I was in there.

     "I am in here."  I call out to her from my bedroom.

     Confusion crosses her face.  "If you are in the bedroom who is in the bathroom?"

     "Jody is in there."  I state matter of factly.

     "Oh, I didn't know you had a little friend over.  When did she come over?"  Nonnie says as she is entering my bedroom. 

     "She's been over.  She's my imaginary friend!"  I said giggling. 

     Nonnie looked at me with her eyes popping out of her head, "Your IMAGINARY friend?"

     "Yep,"  I reply innocently back, "She had to use the bathroom." 

     "How are we supposed to open the door!?"  Nonnie asks the question out in the air rather than to me.  "I need to use it!"

     She quickly goes to use the smaller bathroom.  She came back with a coat hanger that was straigtened out.  She used one end and stuck it into a tiny hole in the door handle trying to unlock the door.  It wasn't working.  The lock was the kind that you had to push in and twist.  She ended up calling my mom's boyfriend to come over and see if he could do something to open the door.  He came over and they both pondered over the door. 

     I remember sitting on my bed, across from the bathroom, hearing them trying different techniques to open it.  I even heard talk of taking down the door.  As a child it sounded like a major project.  I felt horrible.  I didn't mean to cause such a commotion.  Nonnie somehow knew I was upset.  She came in to talk with me.  She told me that I should of known better than to lock the door with no one inside.  She went on saying it is fine to have imaginary friends but have them lock the door by themselves next time.   I remember laughing at that.  The door finally opened and all was well with the world again.  "Jody" and I resumed our tea party as we had our important guest waiting. 

     Somewhere in the time of growing up "Jody" faded away.   I cannot help but smile as I look back at my childhood and my over active imagination.