by Henry Givens
CHAPTER THREE
Tom was finally tired of walking around Elmhurst. He had spent an hour and a half just looking through the town cemetery. He found Ellen and Brian's grave in the same general area of Ellen's parents. To his dismay, there was no sign of Billy's grave. There were no other Dandridges there besides his parents and grandparents. Just to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he made a second trip around the cemetery. He still found nothing.
Maybe Billy moved away. None were listed in the phone book. His casual walk around the town revealed no mail boxes with the Dandridge name on it. He didn't want to start asking questions. Someone might recognize him or start asking questions he had rather not answer.
The town had changed since 1954. All the beautifully meandering streets in town had been straightened, more or less. The mighty oaks in the park had been cut down. He remembered the five great big ones that were pretty much in a row. It didn't take much to recall the races they used to have around them when he was growing up. Then, they all got bikes and used the trees for a slalom course. Man they had some great times at that park.
They had even better times at the old mounds across the street from the park. How those mounds got there nobody remembered. Just a great big mound of dirt with five big holes dug out of them. Every one of them was a pretty good camping spot. They were all deep enough to keep the rain from getting them wet. It was a great place for the guys to hang out and a great place to play pranks on the girls.
Now, it looked like they had cut down the trees and used most of the dirt to level the park. They even covered up the little stream that used to flow through it. The guys had spent countless hours there, too. The water came from an underground spring and was ice cold even in the middle of the summer. He had no clue what they had done to the spring. Obviously, they had stopped it up somehow. Or, maybe they piped into the city water system.
Tom was in no mood to wander around to find out about it. As a matter of fact, he had seen about as much of Elmhurst as he had wanted to. There was nothing there for him anymore. That old feeling of returning to your home to tie up some loose ends must have been just that, an old feeling. It was hard for him to admit but he must have missed God somehow. The idea crossed his mind that maybe he was getting old and senile. At 82, he guessed he had a right to be.
As he walked back toward the hotel, he was tired and borderline depressed. There was nothing much else to do. He figured he would eat supper, spend one more night and then head back home.
Home. He thought that that's what he had done. Come back home. Nope, sadly he had to admit that Elmhurst must not have been home anymore. It was just another town.
As he walked past the park he heard some adults and kids cheering. He had nothing better to do and a little time to kill so he walked over to see what it was all about. He had no idea what was in store for him.
At first, Tom had been almost mindlessly watching a group of boys going through the routines of hitting, pushing and running, the normal things that a football team would do. It might have been boredom, or it might just be the game he used to play when he would start attending a new church. He began to look from the team to the adults on the sidelines to see if he could guess who belonged to who. He enjoyed playing the game, especially today. It seemed to take his mind off of.................other things.
However, that little kid, was his name Arthur? He hung around the coach a lot but they didn't favor. And, he called him Coach Wimberly. Nah, not related. The most peculiar thing was, it looked like this Arthur kid was always talking to the coach and trying to show him something. Most of the time, the coach would shake his head 'no.' Ooops! That time he didn't. What was that? Arthur showed the coach again and Tom instantly recognized it as a classic Ninjutsu block. Or was it? There, he did it again. Tom was absolutely sure. It was Ninjutsu alright.
A shrill whistle was heard. Most people didn't pay attention to it. It was kinda like they were used to hearing it. Arthur looked up quickly, though. In the crowd was a lady holding a precious red-headed little girl who squealed when Arthur looked their way. The three of them exchanged excited waves. The lady held the baby up and pointed in a direction. Arthur shook his head, 'yes' and the lady started walking away in the direction she had pointed. Tom surmised she was going home and Arthur was to follow after practice.
From the opposite side of the field, Tom got a great look at the youngster's face throughout the little pantomime. 'That kid sure loves his mother and baby sister, alright," he thought with pleasure. 'Hmmm. He threw them a kiss. Wasn't ashamed of it either.' It was refreshing to the retired youth leader to see a parent and a child share a loving attitude.
As Tom watched the mother and daughter team return his kiss, something began to roll around inside of him. He had felt it before when he had been around troubled teens in the different churches he had taught at. It was that gentle urging from the Lord that was pulling him to spend some time with young Arthur.
Or was it God? Tom had a hard time discerning the tug. He had started out the day with such high expectations. The hours of walking had only left him tired on the inside as well as the outside. He silently prayed, 'Lord, I am almost too tired to recognize if that's You or not. He's a cute little boy. He doesn't look like he's having any trouble at all. I really want to leave this place, but I think it's You I feel. I'm gonna see if I can strike up a conversation with him. I'm trusting You to open the door or shut it from there. But, I'm tired, God. And, I just want to go home. Where ever that is. I just want to lay before you and cry my hurting soul empty. I mean real empty.'
Football practice was about to be “whistled dead.” There was only thirty minutes left but nobody showed signs of wanting to stop. Arthur’s ‘push-away’ movement was more like a new toy than a football move. Everybody wanted to be on the defense so they could try it.
Just like always, one new twist gave birth to a whole slew of ideas. Most of them fell by the wayside but a couple of them had merit. The coach, with advice from his helpers and some of the players, began to experiment with some of them. To say the least, the defense was cooking. And, the onlookers, mostly parents and siblings of course, got just as excited about watching things develop as the players and coaches did.
Coach Elliot, the teacher in charge of the offensive line had a brainstorm. “Coach Wimberly,” he called from across the field, “let’s put the offense against the defense in a little bit of a scrimmage. Let’s see who can keep who guessing.”
Who knows if Coach Wimberly was all for it or not but the team and the crowd sure was. There was plenty of ‘Yeahs” from the onlookers. The highly partial crowd began cheering while seventy five percent of the team began either jumping or dancing.
Coach Wimberly smiled and hung his head as he wagged it back and forth. He finally looked up with a big grin, winked at the crowd and agreed, “We-e-e-l-l-l, it’ll be alright as long…….as the offense doesn’t go around sulking and pouting because my mighty defense ruins their every plan.”
Oh, talk about throwing down the gauntlet. That did it. One little sentence polarized the entire group around their respective coach. The friendly taunts between the two groups, as well as the encouraging shouts from the sidelines breathed greater energy into the team. During all the prattle and carrying on, they continued to split into two groups at opposite ends of the practice field without being told to. That left Coach Wimberly and Coach Elliot in the middle all by themselves. With hands outstretched and shoulders shrugged, they just looked at the laughing parents and trotted to their waiting combatants.
“Thirty minutes is all we have left, team, so let’s make the best of it,” encouraged Coach Wimberly.
As you may have guessed, it was the shortest thirty minutes of those warriors' lives. New plays developed and failed. A tweak here and a tweak there brought some success. At times, the defense fell apart. At times, the offense looked like goobers. When those times came, the respective coaches huddled their charges and asked, “What can we do to make tha
t play better?” This was almost like starting over for this team and they were open to any and all suggestions. They practiced hard, laughed hard and then moaned hard when the coach told them that time was up.
Alas, alas, it was over. So, thirty-two tired but excited middle school football players began gathering the equipment together and packing it away in the school's van. Arthur was faithful in his commitment to the team and helped until the last piece was securely tucked away.
To his pleasant surprise, Ramon came over and helped him put the water cooler in the school van. As he closed the van door, Arthur said, "Thanks, Ramon. You looked good out there today."
Ramon flashed him a smile and stated, "Thanks, man." As he turned to walk away he continued, "But, I still hate your pajamas."
As Arthur began walking toward the street to go home, Eddie called out to him, "Hey, Arthur! Meet me at the bakery in an hour and I'll have you a butterscotch creme-filled waitin’ on ya'. On the house."
"A-l-l-r-i-i-ght," Arthur exclaimed. He started talking to himself as he walked toward home, "Hot dog-a-Moses! A butterscotch creme.......aw...Mom would never let me have one. No use getting my hopes up."
From behind him, Arthur heard an unfamiliar voice calling to him, "Arthur. Arthur, would you wait a minute? I would like to talk to you for a little while if you don't mind." He turned and saw an elderly gentleman walking toward him.
Arthur figured him to be around 70 years old, yet, he walked briskly. His back was ram-rod straight and he had a great big smile. He had on khaki pants and a plaid shirt like most of the folks in southeast Georgia. However, the thing that immediately captured Arthur’s attention was that this guy was wearing white tennis shoes. That just wasn’t normal for someone his age. He should be wearing support shoe thingys, or at least a pair of loafers. But, white tennis shoes? What was up with that?
As he approached Arthur, the genuine smile that the stranger had on his face brought his fears to a halt. The young lad just could not put his finger on it at that particular moment, but there was something about this distinguished gentleman that made Arthur feel at ease.
He stuck out his hand and introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Tom. I was just passing by when I heard the commotion. Some of those adults were so riled up, I thought there must be a fight going on in the middle of the park. I never figured there would be a football team practicing here. On top of that, you were showing them some martial arts moves. Where did you learn to do that?"
This stranger was immediately Arthur's best friend. He had used the words 'martial arts.' Plain and simple, this guy couldn't be bad at all. "Well, sir," Arthur was glad to respond, "I have always loved Ninja's. I used to get a great big kick out of seeing them fight on TV and at the movies. My mom and dad bought me a video of them and I watched it and watched it until I practically memorized every move they made."
"You say you USED to get a kick out of watching them fight? What changed your mind?" asked Tom.
"Well," Arthur explained, "I started reading some books at the school library. Then, my mom got me some books from the big library down town. The more I read, the more I understood that there was more to Ninjas than just fighting. AND, I found out that the movies didn’t tell the whole story about Ninjas."
"Oh, really?" A smile played across his face as Tom crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in preparation to hear the answer to his next question. "And what might that be?"
Arthur hesitated before he answered. What was this adult up to? Adults very seldom took up time with him. That is, with the exception of his parents. But they were supposed to, weren't they? Well, no. Some of his friends at school talked about how much their parents didn't even try to spend time with them. Mr. Tom was different. It seemed as if he was genuinely interested in him.
Tom quickly noticed the hesitation and said, "Well, I didn't mean to impose myself on you, son. I know your parents probably taught you not to talk to strangers. So I'll be going. I just wanted to tell you that I recognized some of your moves and I felt that you could have a good career in the martial arts field, that's all." Then, as he turned to walk away, he said, "Keep up the good work, Arthur, you could do great things someday."
Arthur was befuddled. No one had even said anything like that to him before. And Mr. Tom's encouragement 'Keep up the good work, Arthur' was more than a statement, it was like....a.....a...command, sort of. Then it dawned on Arthur that he had said that he recognized some of his moves. Just what did Mr. Tom know about Ninja?
Quickly, he ran after him, calling out, "Wait, Mr. Tom. I want to talk to you."
Bobby Holmes, a Lieutenant on the local police force, and his friend Frank Runyon were not too far away from Tom and Arthur. Bobby was off duty and had taken his son Chauncey to watch the team practice.
Elmhurst was a small community in the countryside of southeast Georgia. Everybody knew everybody. That’s the way it had always been. And, since industry had not found its way into this little farming community, it would probably stay that way for quite some time. Without making it very noticeable, the two of them kept a careful watch over their young citizen.
While they attempted to look as if they were just ambling through the park, at least one of them was always facing the two. Both were ready for action if need be. They had already made a plan. Bobby, the younger of the two would toss Fred the baby and the chase would be on if that’s the way it turned out.
Sitting on a park bench by the fountain, also within earshot, and pretending to read the paper was Fred Lee. He was about Tom’s age. During his 40 years in the Army, which included WWII, he had worked in espionage and counter-espionage. Watching people and looking for characteristic traits was second nature to him. Did he detect something sinister in this stranger? No. So far, this stranger’s actions along with his age did not define him as having any dangerous tendencies. However, there WAS something very familiar about this….Tom. And, it was about to drive Fred crazy that he couldn’t put his finger on it. Sitting on that park bench, he fidgeted more than usual.
Tom instinctively knew he was being watched by all three. He could tell it in the way Frank and Bobby walked and turned, and in the way Fred fidgeted. It was way too obvious. Tom never let on and it did not deter him from what he felt that God had wanted him to do. He needed to give this impressionable young man a word of encouragement and perhaps have a chance to lead him to the Lord if he wasn’t a Christian already. So, he turned around with a big smile on his face and said, "For a minute there, I thought maybe the cat had your tongue. Or, maybe your parents told you not to talk to strangers."
Arthur stopped right in front of Tom and said, "They did but.......uh.....I don't feel like we're strangers. It's like.....it's like we've got something in common." Then Arthur changed the subject quickly by some rapid-fire questions. "Didn't you say that you recognized some of my moves? Well…..what did you mean? Are you a fighter? Wow! How many fights did you have? Did you ever......"
Tom put up his hands and said with a chuckle, "Whoa, tiger. You're throwing more questions at me than I can catch."
"But, Mr. Tom, it sounds like you knew stuff about what I only think I know and maybe if I can talk to you for a while maybe I can....." Arthur blurted out.
"Just a minute, son," Tom interrupted with a smile, "you're babbling."
"Yeah, my mom says I do that a lot," Arthur said with an embarrassing giggle.
Tom pointed towards a bench in the park and suggested, "Well, take a few minutes and get all your questions lined up in your head. Let's go sit down on that park bench in the shade and I'll answer as much as I can." Tom made sure that he talked loud enough to be heard by the three gentlemen who were now Arthur’s guardians. He really wanted to set them at ease.
Arthur was so excited he wanted to run to the bench and get started talking, but he knew that walking to the bench with his new friend would be the polite thing to do. It was awesome walking beside this older man who walked so straight and tall. He seemed as if he commanded auth
ority, a real somebody. Arthur wondered who he really was. Maybe he was a mayor, or a governor. O-o-o-o, what if he was a general that fought in the war. Wow! Wait a minute. What if this guy was a black belt whatever and he had won some martial arts championships and Arthur Hollis was walking right beside him. And, this world champion wanted to talk to him. Arthur’s brain was in a tizzy.
They got to the park bench and had barely gotten seated when Arthur unleashed another torrent of questions. "OK, we're here. Now tell me. What parts do you know? Which move did you recognize? Who taught you? Is there a school around here?" Then looking him right straight in the eye, Arthur gushed out, "You gotta teach me everything you know, Mr. Tom. You just gotta."
Tom was pleasantly surprised at this sudden outburst and interrupted him with, "You're really interested in this Ninja business aren't you? But it's not the fighting, you say?" Then shaking his finger in mock anger, but a big smile, he asked, "What is it about being a Ninja that interests a young whipper-snapper like you anyway?"
Arthur giggled like his little sister would and began to explain, "Ya gotta think, Mr. Tom. That's why I like it so much. Ya gotta use your noodle. You know this thing?" he said pointing to his head and grinning real big. "Ninjas try to make moves that their opponents don't know about. Ya know, kinda like its top secret stuff. And I love secret stuff. Besides, if I ever need to defend myself, being a small kid and all, I could trip my opponent and run away before he could ever catch me."
“That’s all well and good,” Tom began while trying his best to look as if he did not know the answer to his next question. “But, why did Ninjas have to do secret stuff? Isn’t that kinda sneaky?”
Ho-o-o-o-o, boy. That question was right up his alley and Arthur had a ready-made audience. He had studied so much history about Ninjas that he didn’t have to wait to get his thoughts together. It just came rolling out much to Tom’s amusement. “You see,” he began, “Ninjas got started with the local farmers and monks who were always getting beat up by these fancy-dressed samurai warriors. The samurai guys were always well trained and had weapons and so forth. The farmers and monks didn’t. All they could do was figure out how to outsmart the guys bigger than they were. So, they created disguises so they could sneak up on the bad guys and figured out real neat moves that would help them get the upper hand. And, we’ve got a couple of tough games ahead of us and then if we can beat them, we can go to the state championship and beat Summerville. And, I showed Sam, the captain of the football team, some moves one day and he took me to the coach and today was the first day I could show ‘em stuff. Neat, huh?”
Tom thought to himself, 'This kid could earn himself a spot on the six o'clock news being able to spout off information like that. Guess I'd better be careful what kind of questions I ask him from now on.' He couldn't help but smile at his own thoughts and at the youthful exuberance of his new student. He stood up and said, "OK, so you can talk a good talk, let's see how good you can give account of yourself. Stand up for a minute, let me see just what you know." As Arthur stood up, Tom thought better of it and suggested, "I tell you what. Let's walk over here in the nice, soft grass just in case one of us, mainly me, happens to fall down, hmmmm?"
An excited Arthur asked, "What are we going to do?"
Frank, Bobby and Fred all went on the alert as they saw the two get off the park bench and walk to a grassy area. Tom easily caught their movements out of the corner of his eye. His suspicions were correct.
"I'll be the mean, over-stuffed samurai warrior and you be the poor, defenseless ninja."
"Alright."
"What's the first thing you're going to do?"
"Nothing," Arthur replied with his arms folded across his chest and his feet about shoulder width apart.
"Nothing?"
"You sure do hear good,....." Mr. Giggles said as he caught himself before he went any further.
"For an old guy?" Tom threw the question to him in mock surprise.
"You said it not me."
"So what's the second thing you're going to do?"
Arthur replied with a smile, "Watch your eyes. If you're not too smart, you'll look in the direction you are fixing to attack. Then, you'll flinch before you throw your punch or kick. My arms are folded so that when I see your strike coming I can throw a back hand protective hit."
"OK," said Tom as he raised one of his eyebrows, "what will you do if I try to strike you with the knife I have in my right hand." Tom raised and lowered his right hand in slow motion.
Arthur explained as he, too, reacted in slow motion. "I block your blow with my left arm and bring my right hand up to try to catch yours. If I catch your right arm with my right hand, I'll turn my body to my left and extend your arm away from your body. Then, I can kick you in your right knee and do either of two things."
"What's that?" Tom asked as he allowed himself to be stretched into a vulnerable position.
"Kick you in the right knee so I can run away. Or, if I have any kind of weapon hiding in the lining of my robe, I snatch it out and use it on you," he finished with a big grin.
"You've got a good head on your shoulders, my boy," exclaimed Tom as he chuckled and pulled his right arm from Arthur's grasp. "I hope you consider me your friend and not your enemy. It's refreshing to see a young man interested in something else besides cartoons and yo-yos."
"Y-e-e-e-a-a-h," drawled Arthur with a sheepish grin, "but I like cartoons also."
Tom chuckled, "That's normal, I reckon. But it hasn't shaped your life now, has it? Which would you rather watch, cartoons or Ninja videos?"
Arthur had to reach over to playfully punch Tom in the arm as he exclaimed, "Ninjas, silly," and then laughed.
Tom laughed real big, too. As he did, he reached over to give Arthur a 'pay back' tap on his shoulder. Tom's tap with his left hand was slower so Arthur would know he was playing. As he reached over to Arthur, the long sleeve of his shirt pulled up a bit and showed the end of a horrible scar.
Arthur’s eyes grew wide, “A-a-a-a-a-a-g-h! What on earth happened to your arm?”
