Katie Short, age 12
3
ON FAMILY
Thank you
For teaching me wrong from right and
encouraging me to keep my dreams in sight
For showing me to not let obstacles keep me
down
And for creating a smile from of my frown
For saying that you care about me
And for showing just how special love should be
For wiping my tears away when I’m feeling sad
And for calming me down when I tend to get mad
For helping others with the good that you do
And for teaching me that I should help others, too
For hugging me when I am feeling blue
And whispering into my ear “I love you”
Thank you, family, for all that you do
I don’t know where I would be if it weren’t
for you.
James Malinchak
No Dad?!
It was early on a stormy winter morning in Northern California. We were making our way along icy roads to the airport, and from there to our weeklong vacation in the warm Hawaiian sun. My dad had worked the night shift at our local hospital, and he was tired from his long hours of work. He was sleeping in the backseat of our van. This was a typical occurrence as we often tried to maximize vacation time by having Mom drive and allowing Dad to sleep en route to our destination.
My younger brother and I were half asleep. My older brother, Jesse, was absorbed in his latest book. He spends most of his waking moments reading. Whenever Jesse reads, he loses touch with everything except whatever he is reading. He could probably read right through a bomb dropping on us.
After several hours on the road, Mom pulled the car into a rest stop. We could hear Dad snoring as we all got out to stretch and yawn—well, everyone except Jesse and Dad. Dad was still asleep in the back, under the blankets, and Jesse was right in the middle of a “very interesting chapter.”
When we had all done the usual business that you do at a rest stop, we hopped back into the car and drove on. The time went by slowly, and I kept peeking at my watch and then at the sky. Would we ever get to the airport?
After about thirty minutes, I stretched my arms and caught a glimpse of the seat behind me. I looked again. I pulled back the blankets and even looked under the backseat. That’s funny, I thought. Where’s Dad? I glanced back again, expecting to find him where we had left him. Still no Dad. Certain that there was an explanation for all of this, I questioned my mother.
“Do you know where Dad is?”
“Yeah, he’s in the back.”
I sat in bewilderment and glanced back one last time, but he simply wasn’t there.
“In the very back, with the luggage?”
“No, just the ba . . . ”
Screeeech!
The car roared to a sudden stop, followed by a 180-degree turn that sent us back the way we’d come. Mom had looked in the back and confirmed my suspicions. Dad was missing!
Mom frantically questioned each of us about whether we knew the location of our missing father—first my younger brother, then me, then Jesse. Jesse had been reading through all this excitement, but he suddenly awakened to the panic.
Calmly he remarked, “Don’t worry. He told me to tell you he was going to the bathroom and he’d be right back.” My mother pointed out that we had left the rest area half an hour ago. Jesse just blinked.
An hour after we had left the rest stop, we picked up our now freezing father. He had been trying to keep warm by pressing the blow-dryer in the bathroom over and over again.
Dad spent the rest of the trip wide awake.
And did we make it to the airport on time for our flight? Absolutely. The plane had been delayed because of a bomb threat. Were we shocked or surprised? Naaaw. It was all part of our typical family vacations.
Jason Damazo, age 12
Terror on Route 83
“Rodney! Where is Aunt Emily?” Jenny asked for the third time as she walked into the living room drying her hair.
Rodney kept his eyes glued to the video screen. “How am I supposed to know? Jennifer!” He really hated it when his sister called him “Rodney.” That’s why he had ignored her the first two times when she had asked him about Aunt Emily.
“C’mon, Rod!” Jenny was getting concerned enough to plead a little. “I asked you to watch Aunt Em while I took a shower.”
“You did?” he asked, offering her his best “who, me?” look.
“Rod, please! When I got into the shower, she was in the kitchen cleaning the sink—like she does at least ten times every day. Now she’s gone!” Jenny was moving around the room looking out all the windows.
“Honest, I dunno, Jen,” Rod answered, pulling himself up off of his elbows. “I don’t remember you asking me to watch her.”
“I can’t find her anywhere and Mom should be home from the dentist in less than an hour,” Jenny wailed.
“Where do you think she would go?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” Jenny said. “But we have to find her. She could get hurt or something.” Now Jenny was sounding borderline frantic.
Rod raced to the back door. Aunt Emily’s blue fall coat was hanging on a hook right next to his faded jean jacket. “Jenny, look!” he said. “We’d better take her coat.”
As he opened the back door, a gust of cold November wind whooshed into the house. “Aunt Em could get really sick if she’s outside too long,” Jenny said.
“You check the yard and the garage. I’ll go down the block. She might have tried going to the beach again,” Rod said as he took off running.
Rod and Jenny lived five miles from the closest beach, but Aunt Emily grew up living only a block away from Rainbow Beach in Chicago. A few months ago she had slipped out of the back door with her bathrobe on. She said that it was her beach jacket and that she was going for a little dip.
Aunt Emily was Grandma Berniece’s oldest sister. Rod used to have fun with Aunt Emily because she had been an elementary school teacher for forty years. She definitely understood kids. Whenever she used to come to visit, they would play Monopoly. Aunt Emily had been the best Monopoly player Rod had ever met. Lately though, she hadn’t been able to play Monopoly at all because she couldn’t remember the rules, and then she would get upset.
Aunt Emily forgot things on a regular basis—like where she was or what day it was. The doctor said she had Alzheimer’s disease. She didn’t look sick or anything, but she said weird things and sometimes she didn’t know who Rod and Jenny were. One day when Rod came home from school, she had locked the door. She kept shouting and asking him who he was.
“Rodney,” he said.
“Rodney who?” she asked.
“Rodney Schuler; I’m your sister’s grandson.”
“Grandson!” Aunt Emily said with a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous! Berniece is only twelve years old!”
“Yeah, that would be pretty funny wouldn’t it.” Rod laughed, too, because that was the only way to handle Aunt Emily when she said things like that.
Last Christmas, Aunt Emily went to live with Grandma and Grandpa. Every Tuesday, she would come to stay at Rod and Jenny’s house for the day—to give their grandmother a rest. Most of the time their mom was there to watch Aunt Em, but on this day Mom had to go to the dentist.
Rod and Jenny’s house was on a dead-end street, so checking their block for Aunt Emily didn’t take long. Jenny was in the front yard holding Aunt Emily’s coat. She looked like she had just swallowed a whole red pepper. Her eyes were red and watery.
“Rod, Joey Nicholas said he saw Aunt Em about five minutes ago. She was headed toward Devon Road.”
A huge lump formed in Rod’s throat and stuck there when he tried to swallow. He could hardly squeak out the words, “Let’s go!”
They sprinted about ten steps when Jenny grabbed Rod’s arm. “Rod, we should pray about this.”
“You’re right, but
I think today we pray while we run,” he answered.
It was only three blocks to Devon Road, but Rod had plenty of time to pray. He asked God to please protect Aunt Emily and to help them find her.
As they turned the corner onto Devon Road, Rod could see Aunt Emily about a block away. She was standing on the cement island in the middle of the four-lane highway. Cars were whizzing by at fifty-five miles per hour on both sides of her. She had her hand up as if she thought the cars would stop.
Rod was just about to yell when Jenny grabbed his arm. “Rod, don’t yell! And pray she doesn’t see us. She might just step off the island right in front of a car.”
“What are we going to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Jenny said. She covered her face with her hands, crumpled into a heap, and started to sob.
Rod stood there looking at her for a second, dumbfounded and desperate. “Aunt Em belongs to you, Lord,” he reminded God again. “Please, help us!”
He snatched Aunt Emily’s blue coat and rushed along the roadside. When he got directly across from her, he crouched down. He was praying she wouldn’t see him.
Then Rod waited. It seemed like forever. Cars, vans, pickup trucks and huge semitrailers zoomed past, between Aunt Emily and him. She just kept standing there with her hand up. In spite of the cold wind, warm air from the heavy traffic swirled around Rod’s legs. He licked his lips. They tasted like exhaust.
Finally Rod saw a break in the traffic. He lunged across the highway and grabbed Aunt Emily firmly by the arm.
Rod said as calmly as he could, “Boy, Aunt Em, you must be cold. Here’s your coat.”
Aunt Emily looked at him with a blank expression on her face. Inside of his head he was crying, Please God, make her know me!
Slowly a familiar smile stretched across her face.
“Why thank you, Rodney. It is getting chilly out.”
A feeling of relief and gratefulness rushed through his entire body. Rod took Aunt Emily’s arm, trusting God to help him with the next step. “This is a really busy road, Aunt Em. Can you help me cross and get home?”
“Hold my hand, Rodney,” she said with a confident smile. “I’ll take care of you.”
Aunt Emily clutched his hand tightly as they waited for a break in the heavy traffic. “Be careful, Rodney; this is a very busy street, Dear.”
When they had safely reached the other side of the street, Jenny was anxiously waiting for them. “Jennifer, what are you doing here?” Aunt Emily asked. “I had better get both of you home before your mother finds out you have been near this busy road.”
As they walked home, Aunt Emily chattered away happily. Jenny leaned behind her and whispered, “Thanks, Rod.”
“Don’t thank me, Jenny,” he said, pointing one finger toward heaven. “Thank him.”
Mary Ellyn Sandford
Watching for the Miracle
All things are possible until they are proved impossible.
Pearl S. Buck
Cindy Plumpton’s brother had been missing now for almost nine months.
The Plumpton family, which included Cindy, then twelve, her fourteen-year-old brother, Kirk, and their parents, were spending their traditional summer vacation at their cabin in the Colorado mountains. The cabins were fairly secluded, separated from each other by trees. Because they knew all the families who had cabins close by, Cindy and Kirk had many friends there. Kirk’s best friend lived in the cabin next door. As he often did, Kirk had dinner at his friend’s place one evening. Just before dusk, he began to walk the hundred yards back to his family’s cabin. He never made it.
The state police, volunteers and his family combed those mountains for any trace of what might have happened to Kirk, but when winter came and fresh snow blanketed the earth, they had to halt the search.
It was shortly after that when I met Cindy at our church. Although she was quiet at first, there was something special that drew me to her. We became Sunday-school friends. It wasn’t until she invited me over to her house several weeks later that she told me about her brother. She and I didn’t go to the same school, but we saw each other every weekend after that. Sometimes I slept over at her house, although her parents wouldn’t let her sleep over at mine.
On a warm, sunny Saturday in April, I called her to say that my mom had agreed to drive us to the park. We could pack a lunch and take our bikes and make a day of it. Cindy sounded as excited about the day as I was, so when I got to her house an hour later, I was puzzled when she said she couldn’t go. She said that she was sorry and hoped I would understand, but there was a rainbow today and she had to stay home and wait for the news.
“What news?” I asked.
“About my brother,” she said, almost too excited to speak. “He’s going to come home today.”
“What? They found him?” I asked excitedly.
“Not yet, but they will.” Then she explained. “Instead of wishing on stars, my brother used to wish on rainbows. He used to say that stars were nothing special; you could see the many old night. But when you saw a rainbow, that was a miracle. Seeing this rainbow means a miracle is going to happen today. Kirk’s coming home. So you see, I have to stay home and wait for him. You understand, don’t you?”
I saw only hope in her large brown eyes, and I nodded yes, I understood. We hugged, and together we stared out the window at the rainbow, with hope in our hearts.
Cindy and her family weren’t at church the next day. The reverend announced that the Plumptons had received a call from the police in another county telling them that they had found a boy who fit Kirk’s description. He had been wandering the street, severely bruised and only semiconscious. Cindy was right! The rainbow had brought Kirk home. Cindy’s family immediately drove the three hours to the hospital where the boy was staying.
That night on the TV news, we found out that the boy the police had found was not Kirk. Although his face was swollen purple, the minute the Plumptons entered his hospital room, they knewhe was not their son. The news report said that the boy was still unidentified and in a coma.
Even though the boy in the coma wasn’t Kirk, the Plumptons stayed by his bedside every day. They did not want him to be alone when he awoke from his coma, which he did five days later. It turned out the boy was a runaway. The Plumptons notified his parents, who lived in another state and had no idea that their missing boy had been found. The parents were overjoyed, and the Plumptons left only after a tearful reunion between the boy and his parents.
When Cindy finally returned home, I was afraid to visit her. I was afraid because I didn’t want to see the disappointment that I knew would be on her face. When I finally went to her house and entered her room, she was staring out the window.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t Kirk.” The words barely got past the lump in my throat.
“Me too,” she said. “But there’ll be another rainbow. I just know it.”
“How can you still believe in rainbows? It didn’t bring your brother home.”
“The boy they found is my brother’s age. His name is Paul, and he has a sister, too. I knew the rainbow would bring a miracle. It just wasn’t our miracle this time. But I’ll see another rainbow. I just know it.”
Together, we stared out the window, with hope in our hearts.
Korina L. Moss
Daddy’s Girl . . . At Long Last
Have you ever felt like nobody?
Just a tiny speck of air.
When everyone’s around you,
And you are just not there.
Karen Crawford, age 9
Daddy wanted a boy. He was so disappointed when I was born. And when Momma found out she couldn’t have any more children, Daddy was devastated.
He never tried to hide his disappointment from me. He was brutally honest. I guess I understood his feelings, living on a small farm in Iowa. He had hoped a boy would help him with the farm and eventually step into his shoes. But a girl . . .
I tried to do everything just
to please Daddy. I could shimmy up a tree in the blink of an eye, throw a ball farther than any boy my age and look the town bully straight in the eye.
But still Daddy didn’t seem to notice. I would bring home straight As from school and other achievement awards. He was unmoved by that as well.
I was determined that I would win his love and admiration, no matter what.
I worked twice as hard doing my chores by getting up extra early in themorning. I milked our cows and gathered the eggs from our hens. Then I went to school.
Still Daddy seemed so unappreciative. Momma always tried to ease some of the frustration and hurt. “He’ll come around one day,” she’d say.
The year I turned thirteen was the one hundredth anniversary of the founding of our town. The town council decided to hold a parade, and they wanted a young lady to sit on a float and lead the parade. The families in the area were asked to send pictures of their children. Every parent in the area hoped that their daughter would be selected. Every parent except Daddy.
Momma sent in a picture of me. I was always so busy being the boy Daddy always wanted that I had never considered trying for the honor of leading the parade. I had no idea that Momma had sent in a picture of me, so it was quite a surprise when the selection committee stopped by one evening to tell us I’d been chosen. Momma was thrilled. As I expected, Daddy showed no interest in the matter.
The day of the big parade finally arrived. I was dressed in a beautiful white dress. At first I felt awkward—I’d hardly ever worn dresses. But soon I felt like a princess in a fairy tale.
As the parade passed down the main street of our town, I saw Momma and Daddy standing on the side. Momma was waving an American flag. But Daddy . . . well, he was just something else! There he stood, smiling like I’d never seen him smile before! As I passed him, I thought I saw tears in his eyes. At that moment, I knew I had finally gained his admiration—not as a replacement for the boy he’d always wanted, but as the young lady I really was.
Chicken Soup for the Kid's Soul: 101 Stories of Courage, Hope and Laughter Page 7
