“Get in here and tell me what’s going on. Have you had an accident?”
“Not yet.”
When we were seated, I patted him on the shoulder, “Ok, what’s on your mind. I can tell this isn’t just a social call.”
He wrung his hands, “It’s Judy.”
“What! Is she OK? Did you guys break up?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
He looked sheepish. “Tomorrow night will be our sixth date.”
“That’s wonderful!” Maggie exclaimed. “Where are the two of you going?”
“Well, that’s just it --- we’re not going anywhere. She’s invited me to her apartment. She’s going to cook dinner for us.”
“So what’s the problem?” I asked. “Are you afraid she’s a lousy cook?”
“No --- no --- it’s not that. It’s ----.”
“Ahhh, yes,” Maggie said. “I think I know what you’re problem is --- sixth date --- alone together in her apartment --- you’re thinking maybe ---.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking and I’m scared to death.”
I was totally out of the loop. “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
“Oh, Walt, you’re so dense,” Maggie said, punching me in the arm. “Intimacy! Does that ring a bell?”
“Ohhhhh, that! With a gal like Judy I can see how that would make you nervous.”
“WALT!” I got another whack on the shoulder.
Just then, there was another knock on the door.
I opened it and Dad and Jerry barged in.
“We saw Ox coming up the stairs and thought maybe something had broken in the vigilante case. What’s up?”
“No,” Maggie said, taking Dad by the arm and leading him to the door. “Nothing like that. He just dropped by to visit.”
“Visit? You goobers see each other all day every day and you have to visit in the evening too?”
Maggie was insistent. “He just had something personal that he wanted to discuss.”
That’s when I made my first mistake.
“You know, given Dad’s reputation as a ladies man, he might just be the perfect person to give Ox some advice.”
Maggie gave me ‘the look’ and for a minute I thought she was going to pop a blood vessel in her forehead.
“Maybe Ox isn’t comfortable discussing ---”
Dad cut her off, “Hey, if this has anything to do with a dame, I’m your man.”
Then I made my second mistake; I put Ox on the spot.
“How about it, Buddy. Do you think Dad might be able to help?”
“Well --- gee --- I don’t know.”
By this time Maggie was livid. “Walt, remember what Ox thought might happen tomorrow night? Well you won’t have to worry about that around here for quite awhile!”
“Oh, crap!”
Dad saw his opening. “I think I get your drift. You’re hoping maybe the little lady is ready for some hanky-panky and you need some advice.”
Ox shrugged his shoulders.
“Signals! You gotta look for the signals. When a gal’s ready, she’ll let you know, but you gotta know what you’re looking for. Sometimes they’re easy to spot. Other times they’re more subtle.”
Up to this point, Jerry had been quiet, but with Dad’s lead in, he couldn’t resist.
“Yeah, I knew a guy who took his girl out for dinner and after they had finished, he asked her what she’d like to do next.
“Her reply was, ‘I wanna get weighed.’
“He thought that was a bit strange, but he wanted to make her happy so he stopped by a pharmacy that had a scale.
“When he dropped her off at her house, her mom asked how the date went and she replied, “Wousey!”
Ox looked perplexed, Maggie rolled her eyes and Dad roared out loud.
“Signals! See what I mean?”
It was apparent that Ox did not.
Dad wasn’t finished. “Do you have protection, son?”
Ox was even more confused. “From what?”
“Condoms, rubbers, you know, safe sex and all that.”
Now it was Ox’s turn to get red.
Jerry was ready for his next salvo.
“Did you hear about the guy who went to the drug store for a package of condoms?
“The cashier rang them up and said, “That will be $5.00 with the tax.
“TACKS!” the guy shouted. “I thought that you rolled them on!”
That was the last straw for Maggie. “Out! Both of you out right now!”
Dad and Jerry saw the fire in her eyes and figured it was time for a hasty retreat.
As Dad was ushered out, he pumped his fist in a suggestive manner and said, “Go get ‘em, boy!”
When they were gone, Maggie put her arm around Ox’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry. They mean well.”
“I know,” he replied.
“You just be yourself tomorrow night.
“You’re a great guy and Judy’s a great gal.
“If it’s meant to happen, it will happen and you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Thank you, Maggie. I really appreciate it,” he said, giving her a hug.
“Well, I’d better be going. See you tomorrow, Walt.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
When Ox had gone, Maggie gave me another ‘look’.
“You’re such a schmuck!”
Since Maggie had left little doubt that Mr. Winkie had no chance of becoming Mr. Happy tonight, I decided to flip on the TV and catch the late news.
The set came to life just in time to see ‘BREAKING NEWS’ flash across the screen.
An ‘on the spot’ reporter stood in the chill night air in front of a house on East 60th Street.
The flashing lights of half dozen police cruisers illuminated the front lawn.
The camera panned to the door of the home where cops were leading a man in cuffs to a waiting cruiser.
As he passed the reporter, the camera picked up his words, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
As the cruiser pulled away, the camera focused on the reporter.
“Tragedy has struck tonight in this east side neighborhood.
“Elvin Daniels, hearing his dog barking and a commotion in his back yard, went to the door armed with a handgun he had recently purchased.
“He saw a hooded figure running across his lawn carrying a shiny object in his hand.
“Daniels, fearing that the object was a gun, fired at the figure, striking him in the torso.
“The victim turned out to be the sixteen year old son of Daniel’s next door neighbor and the shiny object was the student’s Ipad.
“The victim died on the way to Truman Medical Center.”
I sat in stunned silence.
It was bound to happen sooner or later.
Everyone suspected that it was just a matter of time until some trigger-happy citizen, riding the wave of mania that was sweeping our city, blew away an innocent victim.
I doubted that the NRA would be publishing this story in the ‘Armed Citizen’ column of their next magazine.
Gun advocates loved to use the quote, ‘64,999,987 firearm owners killed no one yesterday’.
They wouldn’t be able to say that tomorrow morning.
Sunday mornings are usually pleasant in the Williams’ home.
Maggie and I fix a big breakfast and over our second and third cup of coffee, read the paper, which on Sunday, is huge.
With things ending as they did the night before, I wasn’t sure how this Sunday would turn out.
I figured I should try to make amends for my dimwittedness, so I started the day with an apology.
“Sorry about last night. I guess I wasn’t real sensitive to Ox’s needs and what you were trying to do.”
Thankfully, Maggie is not one to carry a grudge.
Sensing my contrite spirit, she gave me a big hug and kiss.
“You’re still a schmuck, but I love y
ou anyway.”
I brightened up immediately. “Really, does that mean ---?”
“Don’t press your luck, Buddy!”
The paper that day had, of course, printed the story of the previous night’s tragedy, but on the brighter side, with Thanksgiving only a few weeks away, there were numerous articles focusing on that special holiday.
Naturally, that brought up the topic of how we planned to spend our first Thanksgiving as a married couple.
Last year before we were married, Maggie and I decided that for the first time in our lives, we wanted to host a traditional Thanksgiving feast for all our close friends and family.
Given the fact that neither Maggie nor I knew squat about cooking, our feast turned out to be anything but traditional.
We were to fix the turkey, dressing, potatoes and gravy and everyone else was to pitch in with a dish of their choice.
The spread that eventually graced our table was a testament to the inadequacy of our culinary skills.
Without going into the gory details, we wound up with Mexicali turkey, crab-paste dressing and Aunt Jemima gravy.
This all went well with Bernice’s hockey puck rolls that had been in her freezer since the Reagan administration.
The crowning glory was Willie’s chitlins, the significance of which was somehow lost on the table full of old white folks.
Everyone else brought pumpkin pies and we wound up with enough pumpkin to feed the Mormon Tabernacle choir.
While the food left something to be desired, the fellowship was great.
But when it was all over, we vowed never to do it again.
I could see the wheels turning in Maggie’s head.
“Walt, we have so much to be thankful for. We have each other. We have this beautiful home. We have our health. We both have jobs that we love and we have wonderful friends.”
I couldn’t argue with any of that.
“Maybe this year,” she continued, “we could do something for someone else.”
“Exactly what do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. There’s always a charity thing going on around the holidays. I’m sure we can find something.”
“Maybe we can talk to Pastor Bob,” I suggested. “His congregation is always involved in something worthwhile.”
While I am a firm believer in a Higher Power, the church scene has never been my bag.
But if I ever were to join a congregation, it would be Pastor Bob’s.
I like him because he’s not one of those ‘holier-than-thou’ kind of guys. He’s down to earth and believes the message of the church should be how to live a better life and love one another by offering a helping hand.
On more than one occasion, when the burdens of my personal and professional life seemed more than I could bear, his counsel helped pull me through.
“That’s a great idea,” Maggie exclaimed. Then looking at her watch, “It’s eleven thirty. Maybe if we hurry, we can catch him right after his services.”
We pulled up in front of the Community Christian Church at twelve fifteen and Pastor Bob was just shaking hands with the last of his parishioners.
He smiled when he saw us approaching.
“I appreciate your attendance this morning, but for future reference, the service starts at eleven.”
I gave him my best ‘chastised’ look. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem. The topic of today’s sermon was, ‘In as much as ye give unto the least of these, my brethren, ye give unto me.’
“Seeing as how you’re already a public servant, you probably didn’t need that anyway.”
I would have been offended, but he ended his barb with a wink and a smile.
“Actually, that’s exactly why we wanted to talk to you.”
After we shared our aspirations to Thanksgiving benevolence, he thought for a minute.
“So you’re really serious about helping the less fortunate?”
“You bet. What do you have in mind?”
He looked at his watch. “Do you have any plans for the next couple of hours?”
I looked at Maggie and she shook her head.
“Good. Let me lock up the church and you can follow me in your car.”
We followed Pastor Bob down Linwood Boulevard and parked in front of a big brick building with a sign over the door, ‘Salvation Army’.
I had driven by this place, but I had never actually been inside.
A huge hall was filled with folding tables and metal chairs and along one wall was a serving line.
Men and women in aprons were filling the plates of one of the most diverse groups of people I had ever seen.
“Welcome to the soup kitchen,” Pastor Bob said.
“Who are all these people?” Maggie asked.
“Good question. These are the homeless of our fair city.
“We used to have two main groups.
“See the old lady with the shawl around her shoulders? She’s been homeless for years. She’s a regular and we see her every day. She used to be part of our largest group.
“See that old guy in the stocking cap? He’s one of the homeless that we only see when the weather gets bitter cold or when he can’t find enough to eat panhandling or rummaging through dumpsters.”
I felt Maggie shiver by my side.
“You said that woman used to be your largest group. What’s changed?”
“Over there,” Bob said, pointing to a man and woman with two small children.
“That’s the Porter family. Mr. Porter lost his job. They had a lovely home on Cherry Street just south of UMKC. When he couldn’t find work, they eventually lost their home to foreclosure.
“They’ve been living in their car ever since. He’s found a minimum wage job, but they just can’t get enough saved for a deposit and first month’s rent.
“That family represents the ‘new poor’ of Kansas City. More and more of what we used to call ‘middle class’ families are now in the ranks of the homeless. It’s tragic.”
“Cherry Street!” Maggie said. “I’ve shown that home. It’s darling. How sad they must be --- and those poor children!”
“The kids are still in school. The Ecumenical Council of Churches, which my congregation is part of, helps sponsor a breakfast and lunch program for families like the Porters.”
“How can we help?” we both said at the same time.
“Will a serving spoon fit in your hand?” the Pastor asked.
“Never know until we try,” I replied.
“Then let me get you both an apron.”
With aprons in place, Pastor Bob led us to the serving line.
“Ed, I’d like you to meet Walt and Maggie Williams. You’re just the guy to break them in proper.”
A fellow about my age stuck out his hand.
“Ed Jacobs. Welcome to the trenches.”
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“Well, it’s not too technical. Can you hit a bowl with a stream of warm liquid?”
“My wife says I can’t,” I quipped.
Ed laughed, “You’re going to fit in just fine.”
CHAPTER 9
Our afternoon on the serving line was rewarding.
Seeing the plight of the homeless reinforced our appreciation for the lifestyle we had been blessed with and our desire to give back in some small way.
We wasted no time in sharing our experience with our friends and family and after doing so, found them willing recruits.
Actually, they were all probably relieved knowing that they would be spared another meal of Aunt Jemima gravy.
I appreciated Dad’s attitude when he said, “When you were growing up, I was on the road all the time and I didn’t get to do that kind of stuff with you. It’s good to have a second chance.”
Bernice, as usual, was OK to do anything as long as Dad was there.
Jerry was his usual self.
“Hey, I can certainly identify with those people. When I was growing up my fam
ily was so poor that if I hadn’t been born a boy, I’d have had nothing to play with at all! I’m in!”
I knew that Mary wouldn’t be left out on a bet and I was pretty sure that if Ox and Judy hadn’t made any plans they would participate, so when it was all said and done, there were ten new volunteers for the holidays.
We decided that we should get as much experience as possible before the big day, so we volunteered for the evening meals as often as we could and worked weekends as well.
Ed Jacobs sort of took us under his wing. He not only showed us the finer points of manning the server line, he introduced us to the other volunteers and many of the homeless patrons.
I was surprised to see several of my tenants from the Three Trails come through the line and I felt guilty knowing that they relied on free meals in order to pay the forty bucks a week to keep a roof over their heads.
I realized that I was like most people, living life with my head stuck in the sand.
On Monday morning, I was anxious to see Ox and find out how the date had gone.
When we met in the parking lot, I noticed right away that he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Well ---- ?”
“Well, what?”
“Come on! You know what. How was the date?”
“Wonderful! Judy is a fantastic cook! Her meatballs and spaghetti were out of this world.”
“I’m sure she is, but it wasn’t the MEAT-balls that I was inquiring about.”
“Walt, really! A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake --- I don’t want details --- just hit some high points.”
“Let’s just say that given Maggie’s comments to you on Friday night, I probably came out better this weekend than you did.”
He got that right.
I didn’t press the issue.
In squad meeting, the captain was reviewing the tragic case involving the shooting of the sixteen year old kid.
I noticed that he kept looking at Ox who was just sitting there with that same silly grin spread across his face.
[Lady Justice 07] - Lady Justice and the Vigilante Page 8
