Writing Club Week 24

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[Irishgirl]

Writing Club Week 24 The rules are the same - ten minutes, no stopping, no editing, just write what comes to mind.


As usual the first one to respond to this week's thread sets the topic.



Join in, write, have fun   

The previous Writing Club entries are here:

Week 23 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,7243.0.html -- Escape

Week 22 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,7193.0.html -- Weddings/Marriages

Week 21 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,7141.0.html -- Things that rhyme with "spring"

Week 20 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,7079.0.html -- Hope

Week 19 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,7005.0.html -- The things kids do to drive you nuts...

Week 18 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6940.0.html -- Ann Strongheart
 
Week 17 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6757.0.html -- Rollercoasters

Week 16 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6637.0.html -- Volcanoes

Week 15 http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6592.0.html -- Thought

Week 14: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6542.0.html -- Shyness

Week 13: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6472.0.html -- Ends

Week 12: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6409.0.html -- Unexpected Weather

Week 11: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6335.0.html -- Nature

Week 10: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6255.0.html  (BEST EVAR!!) -- Fill In The Blank

Week 9: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,6052.0.html -- Sports

Week 8: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5867.0.html -- Trust

Week 7: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5724.0.html -- Martin Luther King

Week 6: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5325.0.html -- Open Doors

Week 5: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5195.0.html -- Mind's Eye

Week 4: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5108.0.html -- Slinky

Week 3: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,5022.0.html -- Shoes

Week 2: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,4809.0.html -- Where The Wild Things Aren't

Week 1: http://www.themudflats.net/forum/index.php/topic,4675.0.html -- Dust Bunny

[aggirl]

How about "The Kindness of Strangers"

[Irishgirl]

Thanks for the suggestion aggirl -- "The Kindness of Strangers" it is then. 

[aggirl]

At a period in my young life, during the time that my father was very ill and unable to deal with his illness, my brothers and I were placed in foster care so that my mother could do what had to be done, earn a living.  This was at a time during the early 50s and was a completely voluntary solution and one which was an imperative since we were all very young. 

An agency through the Catholic Diocese and Los Angeles County screened these households and this was by no means a free service.   As we all know, foster care is a great way to supplant ones income and it is no surprise to me that there were a few bad apples in the mix.

All looked rosy when first we took up residence.  My two brothers shared a room and I, the  little girl, had her very own room.  The woman of the house, unnamed since I cannot dredge  it up out of my selective memory, was all sweetness and light when my mother was around.  The man of the house had a hang dog expression, speaking infrequently and trying to be the buffer in his way.

I am not going to assail you with tales of physical abuse.  Suffice to say the nightly ritual of dinner was an agonizing event.  One episode comes to mind where this woman had prepared a pork roast and proceeded to eat the cracklin’s at the kitchen table while we were required to watch.  Being taunted about whether or not we had been good enough to enjoy this treat, (which we had evidently not been.)  And man, I was glaring and slathering.  Other incidents are not important to this story and we were removed soon enough from this place.

Silver lining.  This household was located in an area in Los Angeles which was just being developed and had acres and acres of wild areas.  My older brother managed to survive all assaults, mental and physical, by finding a secret place in these wilds and disappearing. 

One day I followed him to see where he went.   I came upon him, crouched on the ground, digging.  I crept up tentatively and asked him what he was doing.  He said he was building a miniature African fortress.  We two then proceeded to spend hours, scraping the earth, evacuating the compound.  We built huts and animal enclosures.  We dug root cellars.  A high observation tower was constructed stripping twigs to tie everything together.  Enclosing all with a strong high wall out of available twigs and bark.  It was a wonderful sight to behold in complete miniature.  We left the fort that night planning to return when we could to continue our refinements.

A few days later we went back.  Our hearts sank.  The field had been plowed!  We ran to the place we remembered and there intact, with a distinct path around it, was our fort.   We just stood there, looked at each other and smiled.

I can only imagine what had occurred.  Some big hulking sunburned man in this huge cultivator had somehow seen our little construction.  He must have gotten out of his rig, squatted down, studied it and saw the intricacies and joy that went into it and decided to go around.  I forever bless you kind sir.

[LettersFromEurope]

@aggirl WOW
Blessing on his head aplenty. What a nice guy at just the right time.

[TRConnie]

Shortly after my divorce and after my son left for Florida, I went to the nursery to buy plants and whatnot for the new garden I was puttiing in off the patio.  I was new to living alone and loving it.  I was new to making purchases I didn't have to justify to anyone but me.  It was a heady time.

The nursery was a gardener's delight and I lost all moderation.  By the time I was done, I had 10 bags of compost, 10 bags of topsoil,, 5 bags of potting soil and enough plants to completely fill the car and make it necessary for me to drive while peering through a rose tree.  Half-way home, I heard a thud, swoosh, and clump clump clump.  At the worst possible spot on the road, my tire had gone flat.

It was also an unseasonably hot day.  I also had 25 bags of dirt sitting on top of my spare donut tire.  I hadn't brought my cell phone with me and I didn't have anyone to call.  Perplexed, I got out of the car and peered at the tire.  Sure 'nuff, no chance of driving the 1 mile back to a place that could fix the tire.  I was fixin' to finish the trip by walking home and calling a tow truck, when I car pulled over.

A guy got out.  His head was shaved and every square inch of his exposed body was tatooed.  There was a large tatoo on his skull that wrapped across part of his face.  What wasn't tatooed was pierced.  After a very polite, "Let me help with you that, ma'am," I explained that I had 20 bags of compost and topsoil sitting on the spare and it was just too hot to be fooling with such things.  He demurred and set to.  He pulled the plants out, he pulled the compost out, he pulled the topsoil out, he pulled the two lawn chairs and bicycle carrier I keep in the trunk out.  He pulled and he pulled until it looked like a combo farmer's market and yard sale on the side of the road.

In short order, he changed the tire explaining to me that I wouldn't want to drive on it long and that I might want to think about getting a can of fixaflat.  I offered him all the cash I had ($4), but he refused.  I offered him the six-pack I had bought to celebrate the groundbreaking of the new garden, but he told me he didn't drink.  What he also said was "pay it forward."

I had been a little alarmed at his appearance.  Even though I know better and I know that a person's exterior usually has little to do with their interior, I was also a woman alone and as such we must be careful.  What I pay forward now is not his kindness, but a renewed effort to not judge by appearances. 

Connie

edited to spell my name right...jeez louise

[aggirl]

And that, Connie, is a kindness in itself.

Did you know or are you a fan of Robert A. Heinlein? Pay It Forward is a big part of his philosophy.
See http://www.heinleinsociety.org/

Great story!
JaneE

[Irishgirl]

Seventeen years ago, a good friend of mine bought a new house in Dublin. She wanted me to visit to see her house. I was living over 200 miles away at the time, but had had the good fortune to have won airline tickets for travel within Ireland. So I decided to fly to Dublin with my one year old son. I stayed overnight, admired her lovely new house and we caught up on a lot of gossip. However, because it was a very new house, she didn't have a telephone. I needed to get a taxi to the airport for my return trip the following morning and her husband had kindly arranged all that from his workplace.

Next morning, my friends had left to go to work, so at the duly appointed taxi arrival time I closed the door behind me and waited with my one year old. I waited and I waited and I waited..............................

Gradually it dawned on me that the taxi wasn't coming and I had no way to ring for another one. This was before the cell phone era. So I put son into pram (buggy) and started to push him out of the estate. Suddenly I saw life, there was a guy working on building all these new houses. I can't remember what I shouted up to him, but I obviously explained my situation and the next thing he came down off the roof, threw the pram into the back of his truck and drove me to the airport.

 We chatted on the way, and he asked me if I was going on holidays. I was mortified to tell him I was only going to Cork, simply because people usually took the train...no one had money at that time to take internal flights. I didn't either! He refused to take the £10 that I offered and was all I had, so I threw it in the window at him, and he threw it back out!

Anyway, I made my flight....thanks to the kindness of a stranger.

[The Blogger]

Box wine never tasting so good!
So we toasting each others with Dixie Cups.

Hours earlier, stuck in snow.  Minutes ticking away.
Soon will be late.  Late even if I unsticking now.  And then past time I say I will being there.

Midnight.  One.  Two.

Man in red truck coming by.  Seeing me stuck.  He calling friend.
It three am.  I am now very late.  Your birthday gone.

I have no cell phones back then.  No way to call.  No way to tell you.  I hoping you not to worry, but I knowing you worry anyway.

So guy in red truck could have drived past.  Could have called tow truck and going home.

Instead, waking up friend.  Who coming at three in morning with shovels.  Rope.  Sand.

And then -- three of us pushing.  Three of us digging.  Three of us struggles until car come free!

I offer thanks.  And money.  They refuse.  At least some hot coffee!  They refusing.

They smile and say no.  They want me paying them back by telling you that I love you.  And happy late birthday.

Another hour on the road.  Stopping at 7-11 store for wilting flowers and big Burgandy in box.

You answering door before I ring bell.  Of course you not sleep.

Crying and hugging.  Toasting and laughing.

Day-after-birthday greetings from heroes who drove by in red truck.

[Irishgirl]

Thanks again everyone for the contributions!! Writing Club Week 25 has started and can be found here.