Just Sayin'

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  Love ya,

  Cassie

  Nick Barton

  Chicago Old Folks’ Home

  August 1

  ’Sup, Callahan,

  Guess what! Your mom’s weird household remedy column is in the Chicago newspaper! Did you know that? Maybe she really is famous. Why aren’t you rich?

  I’m the one who saw the article in the paper yesterday while I was looking for the comics. She wrote about a bunch of things you can do to clean stuff with a can of cola.

  I read it out loud to Grandad and Julie. Julie said it was fabonomous, and Grandad went to see if he had any cola so he could finally get the oil off his driveway where his car leaked it. When Dad got home, I tried to give him the article, but he said he didn’t want to read it. But this morning I found yesterday’s newspaper folded to that page with the Just Jen around the House column, and I didn’t do it.

  I’m enclosing the article in case you want it.

  I did what you wanted me to: I asked Dad why your mom dumped us. But I think my timing was off—I asked him right after he didn’t read your mom’s article. He just mumbled something that could have been “Not now, Nick.” Or maybe, “New cow’s sick.” He’s getting harder and harder to understand. I plan to leave him a note in his lunch box, asking him in writing and telling him to answer in writing too.

  Julie says hey—

  Nick

  JUST JEN AROUND THE HOUSE

  I know a lot of people are down on colas of all kinds, but I’ll bet most of you still have the stuff around your house. Good! Because here are a few uses you may not have known about for that can or bottle of cola:

  Did your car leak oil onto your driveway? Yeah, you could buy sand and let it sit there, then scrub it off. Or, pull out your can or big bottle of cola. Pour it onto the oil and let it sit for a couple of hours. Then rinse. Good as new! (Now park somewhere else, or go get the car fixed.)

  Who loves scrubbing toilets? Okay, hands down. You don’t need to buy those expensive cleaners. Just pour a can of cola into the toilet. Let it sit a spell. (Don’t use it—you can hold it.) Brush, then flush. Voilà—troubles down the drain!

  Need a new faucet? That old one looking grungy and moldy? Wait a minute! You guessed it. Bring out the cola and pour it on. Watch the yucky stuff bubble, fizz, and go away.

  Car battery corroded? Think you need a new one? Those things are expensive, you know! Instead, pour your favorite cola and wait for the stuff to do the trick. You’re off and running!

  Drink it?

  Cassie Callahan

  Hamilton, MO

  August 3

  Hey, Nick!

  Thanks for asking your dad about breaking the engagement. Any word from him yet? I’m still waiting on an answer from Mom.

  It’s good that you guys saw Mom’s column in the Chicago Tribune. Thanks for sending that. I was worried she’d lose her job and we’d get dumped from our home and everything. And I’ve been dumped enough for one summer, thank you very much.

  I sent a follow-up letter to Jesus asking him about Julie and why she has to be so sick all the time. I was pretty straight with him and told him that we didn’t think it was very fair to have Julie be the sick one because she’s nicer than you and me put together. I said I knew Julie had never done anything wrong, especially since she hadn’t even been born when she got the bad genes. So I asked him whose fault it was anyway, and even though I was thinking maybe your mom’s or even your dad’s, I didn’t suggest it.

  After youth group, Pastor Mike read my letter to Jesus and didn’t make me change a word, even though he’s always talking about choosing words wisely, and I admit I didn’t really think much about that when I was writing Jesus.

  When Pastor Mike finished reading my letter, he gave me a hint and said to look up John 9. I went right home and read that whole chapter, and I think I get it. It’s about this guy who’d been blind since birth. Then he meets Jesus, and Jesus heals him right up. And the guy can see, and he’s so excited. But the important part is where the disciples ask Jesus why the man is blind. They even ask if it’s the guy’s fault or his parents’ fault, like it must be one or the other. Only Jesus surprises them and says, “Neither!” It’s not anybody’s fault. He’s blind so the power of God can be seen in him. And Jesus ends up healing him, but nobody except the ex-blind guy is excited about it. They say, “That’s not the same guy!” And even his parents say, “Don’t ask us about who healed our son. Ask him.” And when the ex-blind guy says, “Well, I’m telling you, Jesus made me see!” they kick him out of church.

  I admit I’m shaky on the next part, but Jesus told the bigwigs in the church that they were the ones who couldn’t see, and that they would be sorry. And man, were they insulted!

  Anyway, the best part I understood was that being sick isn’t anybody’s fault. And there might even be some secret meaning to the whole thing. I still might write Pastor Mike about it. But I always had the idea that if I were Julie’s stepsister and we shared a room, I might end up becoming a better person, more like Julie.

  Only now we’ll never know about that.

  I would have put my money on it being your mom’s fault, if you want to know the truth. But I guess not.

  Speaking of your mom, which we don’t do much, or ever, do you ever hear from her? Gram says she saw your mom in a potato chip commercial on TV, and she sure was skinny. Gram said, “I guarantee she didn’t sneak and eat a single potato chip during the break. She’s so skinny she could slide through a knothole if she wasn’t wearing shoes.” Ha ha.

  Cassie

  P.S. Here’s what I found out about The Last Insult Standing. It’s going to be a live show where wannabe insult comics compete. Won’t that be cool? I’ll bet we could win. Ha ha! Plus, it’s going to be in Hannibal, Missouri, on account of that being where Mark Twain lived and he had good insults and one-liners. “I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.”

  P.P.S. You should write Kirby the Insult King about it, because I’m running out of insults for him.

  So I did like John 9, only it’s confusing, too, the more I think about it. How can being sick not be anybody’s fault? Where does sick come from, then? And I’m not crazy about the second song we sang this morning. Do we really need all six verses? Gram put a pot roast in the oven before church, and it will be done at noon, so she won’t like it if you go overtime. Just sayin’.

  Dear Cassie,

  I got your message in the offering plate, although I couldn’t quite make out all of it. I did, however, get the gist. I’m glad you liked John 9.

  In case you haven’t noticed, earth is not perfect, like heaven is. You’ve heard of the Fall, when sin entered the world, haven’t you? God created a perfect world, but he gave people free will, so they wouldn’t be robots. People messed up, and so our world is messed up, and disease and decay became part of the natural order of things.

  I know. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, but don’t forget—I’m just a mouthpiece. I still have trouble accepting illness and death too.

  Pastor Mike

  P.S. Did the pot roast burn?

  Kirby the Dog

  Hamilton, MO

  August 4

  Dear Kirby the Insult King,

  Cassie and I watched your show last night, The Hour of Insult, filmed in Why, Arizona. Three times we heard you use “dog” in a pejorative fashion. (PEJORATIVE means “not nice,” and it was Cassie’s word of the day today, as it happens.) We did not appreciate the canine jokes. And we did not find them at all amusing.

  Kirby

  P.S. Dog hair on your couch is no reason to get rid of your pet! Put on rubber gloves and pet the couch. All the hairs will come right up. (This tip has been brought to you by Jennifer Callahan’s column, Just Jen around the House.)

  P.P.S. Mark Twain said, “If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a
man.”

  Nick Barton

  Chicago, IL

  August 3

  Callahan!

  Did you watch tonight’s episode of The Hour of Insult? Dad was home, so I had to go to the old folks’ rec room and watch with the old people. But they’re pretty cool. They laughed in all the right places. And—get this!—Grandad loves the show! He watched it with me and laughed harder than anybody! Who would have thought, right?

  I sure hope you were watching when they told about filming the contest The Last Insult Standing in Hannibal! I think you and I really could win that contest! We have to at least try. They’re going to pick five guys and five “ladies” to compete. To enter the competition, you have to send them 10 insults. That’s it! The contest people will pick the contestants on the basis of those insults. Then guys face off against guys, and girls against girls. Let’s do it! I know what you’re thinking. Your mom and my dad hate insults, so they won’t help us. Well, we’ll just have to help ourselves. They’ve pretty much left us on our own anyway.

  On a less exciting note, when I got up this morning and came down for breakfast, there was a letter waiting for me on the counter, a letter from Dad, even though he was still upstairs sleeping. I am enclosing his letter. Some of it may make you madder at him. But don’t forget that you’re the one who asked me to ask him, so you can’t get mad at me.

  Sorry,

  Nick

  P.S. Say hi to your gram for me. I kind of miss her.

  P.P.S. Don’t forget to play fetch with Kirby. I’m the one who taught her to chase Frisbees.

  To: My son, Nick

  From: Your dad

  Nick,

  I’m sorry that I couldn’t talk about this face-to-face. Maybe someday. I hope soon. Right now I’m having trouble talking to anyone about anything. And I’m sorry about that. You don’t deserve the way I’ve been acting. I know I’ve been taking things out on you, which is why I’ve tried to say as little as possible.

  Things are hard on all of us, even your grandad, who’s been kind enough to give us a place to live and to give me a job. But I miss teaching. I know I’ve been on edge, and that can’t be easy on you and Julie. I will try to do better.

  You asked me why Jen and I broke our engagement, and I’m not sure how satisfying my answer will be. The short answer is that Jen told me that she didn’t want to go through with our wedding. To be honest, it came as a shock. I thought she and I understood each other and wanted the same things out of life. I know she loved you and Julie. I certainly loved her and Cassie.

  You’re too young to remember much about when your mother and I were married, and I suppose that’s a good thing. It wasn’t very pleasant around our house. But your mom and I did love each other, and it shook my world when she left me. It hurt you and Julie, too. That’s why I didn’t date for a long time. I didn’t want any of us to go through that again.

  Then I met Jen. We were instant friends. The first time I saw her was when I took you to Cassie’s birthday party. She’d invited your whole class, and I made you go. I was walking toward the house with you when we heard the party going in the backyard. So we went around back, and there was this woman in a clown suit, with a frizzy red wig and enough face paint to coat a house. She came over, handed you a balloon, and said, “Don’t just stand there! Blow!” Then she handed me a fistful of unblown balloons. I ended up staying and learning how to make balloon giraffes. I didn’t even know she was Cassie’s mother until she brought out the cake and Cassie said, “Thanks, Mom.” I thought she was a hired clown.

  I admit I was pleasantly surprised the next time I saw her, which was at teacher conference night. Jen’s a head-turner. I asked another teacher who she was and laughed out loud when I realized she was the clown.

  Not sure why I told you all that.

  Except to help you understand why I had to leave, why we had to leave. It took me years to get over being dumped by your mother, Nick. I couldn’t go through that again.

  The night before I packed you guys into the car and drove to Chicago, Jen told me she had to talk to me. I thought I’d done something wrong. Or maybe she’d decided she didn’t want us to live in her house, that she wanted us to buy a new house or something. We went for a walk, and it took her over a mile to come out with it. Finally, she burst into tears and said she didn’t know if she could go through with it. “Through with what?” I asked. “Our wedding,” she said.

  And that was it. I turned on my heels and walked home. I stayed up all night packing. In the morning, I told you we were moving to Chicago.

  Now you know why. When I met Jen, I believed I’d finally found someone I could be with forever. I thought she felt the same way, but it turned out that wasn’t the case. After Jen broke up with me, I thought it would be too hard for you and Julie to keep going to school with Cassie and seeing Jen, constantly being reminded of the family you almost had. And to be honest, it would have been too hard for me, too. So that’s why we’re in Chicago.

  Love,

  Dad

  Jen Callahan

  San Bernardino, CA

  August 2

  Dearest Cassie,

  Honey, you must never think that breaking the engagement was your fault! Are you kidding? Travis thought so highly of you that sometimes I wondered if you were the reason he wanted to marry me!

  I’m so sorry you’re unhappy. But I really think that being with Gram is the best thing for you right now. I need some time to sort myself out and figure out what our life is going to be like now that our plans have changed. Your grandmother can be feisty and even caustic (if you haven’t come across “caustic” in your Word-a-Day calendar yet, look it up). But she’s good people, and I trust her to take good care of you during this difficult time.

  Cassie, you asked me why Travis broke our engagement, and although I don’t really understand it completely myself, I’ll tell you what I do know. That last day, our last day together, I couldn’t stop thinking about your father. Greg and I were so young when we fell in love and got married. We had our whole lives ahead of us. The plans we shared, and the dreams we made! Greg wanted to invent things—he was really smart, honey. He had plans drawn up for everything from a better mousetrap to a way to find your keys when they’re missing. (I think someone else has invented that now.) I knew he would be another Thomas Edison one day.

  We were as poor as church mice when we found out I was pregnant with you. And all we felt was pure joy. At the time, we were renting a tiny trailer house in Rosewood Gardens, and I was going to school at the community college and working full time. That’s when Gram took us in, and it’s a good thing she did. I’ll tell you about those days sometime. When you were born, it was the best day of our lives. Your father loved you like crazy. Even when his inventions kept getting turned down, he didn’t let it get him down. He was a good man.

  But then your dad took that night job in Chillicothe so I could stay in school. It was when he was coming back at night on Old 36 that the truck rammed into him. The accident changed everything, changed me especially.

  Since then, I’ve devoted my life to you and to my writing career. I’ve kept your dad’s last name, Callahan, and I’d never dated another man until I met Travis. I’d never wanted to. At first, going places and being with Travis didn’t even feel like dating. It just felt good. I fell in love with him before I knew what hit me.

  I think you wanted me to marry Travis just as much as I wanted to marry him. I thought we’d all live happily ever after.

  But back to that night. All day, thoughts of your father filled my mind and my heart. Here I was about to marry another man. What if I was making a huge mistake?

  I had to talk to Travis about it. I wanted to be honest with him and tell him what I was feeling. I knew I wasn’t betraying Greg—of course I wasn’t. But that’s how I felt. And I’d always been able to tell Travis how I felt.

  Only he didn’t want to hear me. I tried to explain. More than anything, I wanted him to underst
and. I needed him to talk to me. Instead, without a word, he turned his back on me and walked away. The next day, when I called him to meet and talk things out, he didn’t answer his cell. Then Gram told me that he’d taken Julie and Nick and moved to Chicago. I thought she was joking—I really did. I haven’t heard from Travis since that night.

  So there you have it.

  I love you more than anything, honey.

  Love,

  Mom

  P.S. Keep that dog out of my bedroom!

  Johnathan Kirby, King of Insults

  Bagdad, AZ

  July 31

  Kid Callahan,

  Stop with the hints about your birthday, will ya?

  So your big day is August 31, huh? That just happens to be the day we’re filming The Last Insult Standing in Hannibal. So, I’m sending you two tickets to the show. Good seats too. You can invite a friend, if you have any. So now you can lay off the gift idea. You’re welcome.

  Since you asked, I will tell you that I have had two people in my life who never deserved an insult. One was my mother. If there’s anyone in heaven with your Pen Pal, it will be Ma. She never wrote God or Jesus that I know about, but she read everything they wrote. She didn’t approve of my insults, but she was enough of a regular Joe to laugh when they were funny.

  The other insult-free zone was around my little sister. But I don’t feel like writing about her. Anyways, I wasted enough ink writing this.

  The King

  P.S. Sorry I didn’t wrap the tickets. Where am I supposed to find wrapping paper in Bagdad?

  Johnathan Kirby

  Continental Divide, NM

  August 1

  Dear Emma,

  Out of all the letters I get, yours are the only ones I never swear at when I get them. I’m starting not to swear at Cassie’s, either. Or Nick’s. Maybe.

  I sure am getting tired of traveling to these weird towns, let me tell you. You may have been wondering why my letters come from towns with such crazy names. You would have to ask Marty the Smarty, my producer, to get the answer to that one. He’s not speaking to me at the moment. He just told me his big plan for filming next year’s Hour of Insult, and I just told him that if I decided to kill myself, I’d climb his ego and jump to his IQ.