Saturday Photoshoot Continued

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I finally had some time with the onset of the weekend so I went through the remaining photos from the shoot with my cousins. There are a few other shots I liked as well, however, I don’t want to overwhelm anyone or have them think that I only talk about photography…

…I only do that most of the time.

Vacation - Tuesday

Pin It This evening I had the opportunity to have dinner with my cousins and aunt at this little Mexican restaurant. I’d never been there before, and the food was pretty good. It was fun to talk and rehash old memories. My aunt was adamant that I had broken their tire swing when I was a kid. To this, Josh and Danni both made known that I had. I strained my memory to consider this particular moment from the facedly jaded recollection of moments I seem to have as of late, however, I drew up a blank. Later though, I suddenly remembered climbing on their tire swing and distinctly remember that as it swung back, right before it was going to go forward, the tire simply fell to the ground, and I along with it.

I couldn’t believe it, it really had happened and I had completely forgotten about it! It amazes me how many things we forget in our lives. Take two nights ago…I was listening to a book on my mp3 player as I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke in the morning, my iPod was missing! I panicked just a bit, and began to scour the room I was staying in. I soon found the player sitting on the dresser, with the cords neatly wrapped around it.

Hmmmm…now that was odd. I didn’t remember turning it off, unplugging it, and putting it away so nicely. I was sure that somebody was playing a joke on me, however, nobody would fess up to it. I am forced to conclude that Ralph, the nighttime stuff mover, had paid me yet another visit and this time, instead of moving my car keys, he’d decided to move the ipod.

Anyhow, Josh & Dani both said they thought I’d broken their tire swing on purpose and—for a while—hated my guts for it.

Soon it came time for us all to go our separate ways. As we all climbed into vehicles and began to leave I suddenly remembered my camera. Though I’d brought it along, I didn’t think to take a photo of our group until that moment.

Curses!

Luckily, I’m pretty computer savvy, and with the advent of technology, I was able to compile the composite of our group this evening.

I know, it’s pretty realistic, isn’t it?

Summit Memoir 1 - The summer my cousins came to visit

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I’ll never forget the summer my cousins came to visit. At that time we lived in a place called Summit Valley. It was named after the huge rising summits that surrounded the valley, deep in the Huckleberry Mountains. We lived in a little pink and yellow house down one of those winding country roads where the summer lasts forever and so do the memories.

There was a creek running alongside the house that was spanned at one point by an old, weathered bridge. The bridge was missing boards in places, leaving gaping holes in the framework and you had to be careful when crossing or you would find yourself falling twelve feet down to the creek, choked with the remnants of an old beaver dam.

I was lying outside on the lawn watching the white puffy clouds race by. These were my favorite because of the shapes they would form when drifting lazily in the breeze. A car sped past in a flash of gleaming metal, leaving only clouds of dust behind to mark it’s passing. A picket fence, faded to a dingy white separated our yard from the road. The far side was cumbered with tall weeds and slats were missing in places, giving it the impression of missing teeth. I reached to my mouth and poked at the spaces my own teeth had left behind. Twenty-five cents each, that’s what they were worth. For the sake of getting rich I had once entertained the idea of pulling them all out with a pair of my dad’s pliers, but when I considered the pain that would accompany such an act, I quickly abandoned the idea.

I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the next car coming down the road until it slowed and turned into our driveway. The dusty windows of the Pacer held faces that stared at me intently. I stared back and rose from my place on the grass, leaving behind an indentation that rose much more slowly than I.

The front door of the car opened and as Aunt Joan got out, I realized that the faces in the backseat must belong to my cousins, Doug and Tracy. Sure enough, from out of the car they came. As Joan reached out to hug me my older sister, Shawna, burst from inside the house. She let the screen door slam shut behind her and she let out a yell, “Aunt Joan!” and quickly ran to where we stood. Mom followed behind and the two adults began to talk and laugh over our heads. Walking into the house they left us to face our cousins alone.

I remembered Doug and Tracy well enough from our last visit to the city and all I can say is that they looked quite out of place here in the country. “Hi.” I said, trying to sound friendly even though I had no particular love for my cousins—well, Doug anyway because he was a first class jerk and bully.

“Hi.” They both answered back, taking in our house, the trees across the creek, the weeping willow which hung over the driveway with it’s tire swing drifting lazily in the breeze which had sprung up. I couldn’t say that I was all that happy to see my cousins…what were they doing here? Why hadn’t Aunt Joan told us they were coming? From the expressions on Doug and Tracy’s faces I could tell that they were somewhat disappointed in our home.

“How come you’re here?” Shawna asked, brushing her long, tangled hair from her face.

Tracy smiled. “Mom and Dad are sending us to stay for the summer.”

Shawna and Tracy hugged. They began to chat away about all of the things they would do. Play with Shawna’s cat, practice putting on makeup and about a million other things that would never interest me. She and Tracy carried Tracy’s duffel bags into the house and left me standing alone with Doug.

Doug grabbed some things out of the car and tossed them to me. “Here, you can carry this.” He said. It was not a request, it was an order. As I caught the backpack I thought that maybe it would be nice to have another boy around for the summer, after all, my brother was gone for the summer and our nearest neighbor with a boy my age was about a mile away, if you cut through the woods. I decided that I would try to make the best of it.

As Doug and I walked into my room it was obvious that he was not impressed with the surroundings. The people who had lived in the house before us had odd preferences for color; this was why the house was painted pink and yellow. My sister’s room was an even uglier shade of hot pink with matching curtains; the sight of it was certainly enough to make a person puke, which brings you to my room. The shade of green on my walls wasn’t actually the shade of puke, but it was close enough to pass. It most closely resembled the split-pea soup my mother frequently made. I was used to the color and size, it was the smallest room of the house, not much bigger than the bathroom but just perfect for the currently smallest person of the family—or so my parents had decided. This explains why our parents had given the bedrooms to us and had chosen to set their bed up in the living room, it was close to the TV and the walls were white, pure beautiful white—not the type that would give you disturbing dreams or an upset stomach.

I tossed Doug’s sleeping bag and backpack on the floor as he looked at the walls. “Ugly room.” He observed.

Ignoring his comment I headed for the kitchen where mom and Aunt Joan were talking. As I came closer I caught snatches of the conversation, phrases like; out of control and I don’t know where else to turn met my ears. But as they noticed me in the room the conversation shifted to grandma and her failing health. We didn’t have a phone and letters were usually our only correspondence with family. Dad did have a CB radio on which he and mom would talk with friends in the valley, but the signal wasn’t strong enough to travel very far.

Mom turned to me and smiled. She was pretty with long hair that was light brown, the same color as mine. I loved it when my mom smiled, it made me feel all tingly and light inside, and it would always make me feel better when I was sad about something, but now it made me feel differently, like something terrible was about to happen.

“Jason,” Mom began, slipping her arm around my shoulder. “Your Aunt has a lot going on back home and is going to be really busy over the next few weeks.” She paused and considered her words carefully. “Your cousins will be staying with us for a while.”

I didn’t know what she expected me to do or say. I knew I couldn’t make a scene with Aunt Joan standing there, she, like grandma, had this mistaken belief that Shawna and I were perfect children and dad didn’t want us to spoil that image.

I gave a weak smile. “Sounds great.” I lied. In actuality, I didn’t know whether it was great or not. I actually didn’t know Doug all that well; maybe out here in the country, and away from the city he and I could do things together. I had a fort I wanted to build in the trees behind the house and I would finally have someone here to play with during the day. Yes, I decided. It did sound great.

Before long, Joan stood to leave, promising to return in a month to pick up Doug and Tracy. They waved goodbye as the car backed down the driveway. As she drove down the road in a flurry of dust and pebbles, she stuck out a hand, gave a wave to her kids, and then was gone. That’s when it all began.

I tried really hard to get along with Doug at first. I usually didn’t have anyone to play with but Shawna and she didn’t enjoy hikes along the creek or exploring the woods as I did. I was thinking how much fun it would be with another boy around but it didn’t take long before Doug started bossing me around and generally acting like he owned the place. Heck, if I had wanted this, I could have hung around my sister!

Charles, Doug’s dad, was a career Marine and had been a Green Beret during the Vietnam War. As a result, his son was constantly bragging about how many Japs his dad had killed and just how tough he was. “If my dad tells me to drop and give him 50, I do it!” Doug said proudly.

Doug boasted constantly of how tough he was and told me that he knew of at least twelve different ways in which he could kill me and make it look like an accident. I thought maybe he was just doing this to scare me, and it was working. I tried to avoid him but he constantly seemed to be following me around, telling me how tough he was. He took over my bed and made me knock whenever I wanted to come into my own room.

“I can do more pushups than you can.” Doug sneered on the third day, coming into my room.

I didn’t doubt him on that. At seven years old I had thus far only mastered three or four pushups in a row. I was trying to be careful in my words so as not to egg him on.

“So?” I asked.

“So, I’m tougher. I can do more pull-ups too.” He waited to see if I was impressed.

I shrugged. “Big deal.”

Doug dropped to the floor and proceeded to crack out pushups on the yarn rug to prove his point. I stood and walked outside.

My sister and Tracy were sitting on the grass on the front lawn laughing as they played with Shawna’s snow-white Manx cat, Feather. They dangled string for the kitten that pounced and clawed at the dancing thread.

I flopped down on the grass and pulled up a single blade, examining it between my fingertips. I glanced down at the lawn at all the grass growing and the bugs scurrying beneath its canopy. Did they ever worry about anything? Did bugs know when someone was about to sit down and move out of that area of lawn before they did? I could almost imagine police ants setting up little barricades and yellow “do not cross” lines. I smiled at the thought and looked at the girls. I couldn’t see how Doug and Tracy could really be related at all. Tracy was the exact and utter opposite of Doug. She was tiny and fragile and would laugh, her blond hair swaying back and forth. I noticed that she had been smiling a lot since they had come, I was wondering if it was because now Doug was picking on my instead of her.

I heard the screen door slam shut behind me. Doug was standing on the top step, watching us with intent eyes. I breathed out s sigh. Great, I thought, won’t he ever leave me alone? Doug only stood there for a moment before he ambled across the lawn to where we were sitting.

“Watcha doing?” he asked, not really wanting an answer.

“Nothing, now go away,” Shawna said coldly. I was pretty sure she was just as sick of him as I was.

But Doug didn’t leave, he merely grinned about, probably thinking of some way to be a jerk, you know, something like hiding the seat of my bike or setting the barn on fire. Doug wouldn’t let on what he had been thinking until he reached out and snatched Feather from my sister.

Shawna was on her feet in a second, trying to get the kitten back. “Give him back to me!” she yelled. “He’s mine!”

Doug seemed to enjoy this reaction and danced away from her. “Maybe I will,” he jeered, “and maybe I won’t.”

Shawna made a futile grab for the cat that clearly didn’t like being swung around like a rag doll.

It’s difficult to describe what happened next, it seemed that there was lots of shouting and name-calling. Doug was backing farther away, holding the cat over his head like a sacrificial offering. Shawna was threatening to pound him and tried to keep her cat from falling. Tracy burst into tears and kept blubbering about something, maybe Doug had done this to her cat before and she was thinking about what would come next…it was hard to be sure.

Amidst all of this I heard the front door slam with the force of a thunderclap and there he was. The man that stood there looking at us, six foot five with dark hair and beard and a look of disgust on his face. For all practical purposes it could have been Grizzly Adams or Paul Bunyan standing there, but it was far worse, it was my dad.

It was plain from the tone of his voice that he had just about had it with all of the problems that had been happening lately and finally this was the last straw. “What is going on out here!” he demanded, more a statement than a question.

Nobody answered. Nobody dared. I noticed Doug standing quietly and the cat had somehow managed to disappear from his grasp, nowhere to be seen. The silence that now dominated the air about us was eerie; the creek, which usually gurgled contentedly, was strangely silent. And the usual noise of birdsong was notably absent. It was like the whole world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Dad stood there in his towering greatness and strode from the front step of the house. Still nobody moved. We were all like deer, frozen, looking into the blinding whiteness of an oncoming car’s headlights, which would spell certain doom.

I think dad grabbed Doug first, the reason I say this is because he didn’t have a chance to run, and I myself being his son wouldn’t have dared to. Nobody ran from my dad, he may not have been fast, but he lived in that house and he knew that you’d have to come home sometime. Dad grabbed me next and hauled both Doug and I out to the backyard. I could now hear the creek chatting away over its bed, telling the rest of the world I was as good as dead. Tracy and Shawna followed along behind, probably curious as to what was going to happen next. I’m sure Shawna felt somewhat guilty that it was me getting blamed for the fight and not her so out of respect she was coming along to see me get shot along with Doug.

Dad released us both and said, “I’ve had it with the both of you. You two are going to have it out right here and now!” I wanted to protest, saying that it was all over Shawna’s stupid cat and that it wasn’t my fault but I knew that no amount of plea bargaining would get me out of one of Dad’s decisions.

Mom came out from the house and quickly discovered what was going on. She approached my dad and said. “George, fighting won’t solve anything. It’s only going to make it worse.”

Dad pushed her aside and said. “Doug needs a good whipping and it’s my son that’s going to give it to him.” Dad turned to me and said, “Go on Jason, take him out!”

It was one of those times in my life where I’ve wondered, how did I get into this? I hadn’t planned on getting creamed when I woke up that morning, but it appeared that the fates had this in mind. I looked at Doug; he seemed bigger now than he had been before, like a towering mound of bully just waiting to show me how much he would love to turn my face into hamburger.

At this point everything became muddled. I hit Doug, or at least, I hope I did. I can’t be sure if the blow landed because he knocked me to the ground and we were tumbling all over the lawn. It was a mass of fists and legs all striking and trying to do the most damage as possible. It was obvious that Doug was now winning; as the blows came to my head and stomach I felt that that these would be my last few moments on the earth. I could almost imagine the inscription that would be chiseled to my headstone,

Jason Zimmerman
Beaten to death by his cousin because of his sister’s stupid cat.
This act was sanctioned by Jason’s father.

At my moment of feeling no hope for deliverance, Doug rolled off me and began to curse more than he had before. I opened my blurred eyes and caught a glimpse of my sister and Doug on the ground, my sister was on top and they were both grabbing fistfuls of hair and plummeting each other bloody. My older sister had saved me at the last possible moment. I stood and ran to her aid, I wondered what I could do to help; after all, she was literally kicking the snot out of him.

I looked down at my black Converse tennis shoe, now streaked with grass stains and dirt. I looked at Doug and Shawna hitting each other and I kicked him, several times.

Doug started to scream out that he gave up and the fight was officially over. Doug’s face was smeared with blood that ran from his nose as if it had been a faucet turned open full throttle. He spit on the ground and began to walk to the house, trying to maintain some semblance of cool as he wiped the blood from his chin. I can only imagine that he felt somewhat humbled getting beaten by a kid two years younger than he was, of course, my sister didn’t really count because, after all, girls don’t fight boys.

Summit Memoir 2 - Checkers and Beatings

Pin It I thought that the fight would’ve stopped Doug’s bullying and cheating, but it didn’t, he only seemed to get worse. Even if Doug didn’t physically push me around, he still bragged about how much better he was than me at everything and made it a point to make me feel about as low as pond scum when it came to do anything that required size or strength.

I tried my best to avoid him but it never worked—mostly this was for two reasons. First, there are only so many places to go when you’re seven years old and still haven’t learned how to ride a bike, and second, there was basically nothing out here in the country that would keep Doug distracted. He couldn’t watch TV because ours only received three-and-a-half stations (the half station only worked when the sky was overcast). Not that it would’ve helped anyway because the only things on during the daytime were soap operas and I couldn’t imagine Doug ever watching those.

Mom had a pretty nice stereo but this was no help either, we weren’t allowed to mess with it to play any tapes and most of the radio stations were full of static—not that it would have mattered, I don’t think Mom would have let him listen to his stations even if they weren’t. The only thing that seemed to take his mind off of how bored he was and give him any pleasure was to continually torment me.


I made it a point to start taking long hikes up the creek for hours on end and exploring the woods with my dog, Grizzly, a half German Shepard-St. Bernard mix that got his name because he was nearly as large as a bear himself. I recalled the time, when we had lived in Rockford, Washington just a year before when a boy who lived up the street named Robert had been throwing his shoes at Grizzly for fun. Robert would laugh and laugh as he watched my dog move away and find someplace else to lie down.

“Leave him alone,” I warned. “You’re gonna make him mad.”

Robert had laughed and picked up his shoe again. “That old worthless dog wouldn’t do anything!” He threw the shoe that hit my dog on the shoulder.

“Knock it off, Robert.” I said again.

Robert ignored me and took off his shirt next and threw that at Grizzly as well. Grizzly started to walk away, still trying to ignore this annoying kid. Robert seemed to think that the way Grizzly kept moving away from him was the funniest thing he had ever seen and he was practically rolling with laughter. He then started taking off his socks to throw them at my dog as well. I was beginning to wonder if he would be wearing any clothes by the time he was done, at the rate he was taking them off and throwing them at Grizzly I figured he had about another 30 seconds. Grizzly moved away from Robert again, but this time he gave a warning growl which I think was his way of saying, Listen here you stupid kid, if you take off any more of your clothes and throw them at me, I’m gonna have to bite you.

“Robert,” I said. “I’m serious, he’s getting mad.”

Robert stuck his tongue out at me. “Mind your own business!”

I stood and walked to the porch with a shrug. If Robert wanted me to mind my own business, then I would. Robert ignored me and ran over to Grizzly to rub his stinky sock in the dog’s face. I wondered why Robert always liked to torture animals, I figured that maybe it was because he had older brothers who treated him like dirt, but I couldn’t be sure.

Grizzly gave another low growl as Robert approached but Robert didn’t notice it. Maybe he just wasn’t listening, or maybe he was just really stupid…I’ll never know for sure which it was but as Robert tossed his sock in Grizzly’s face, my dog decided that he’d had enough.

Grizzly let go with a bark and jumped up from the ground, whisking out of Robert’s way and then he bit him on the back. It took Robert about two or three seconds to realize just what had happened. Then he began to scream, a high-pitched scream that echoed and reechoed through the neighborhood—it sounded like somebody was torturing a cat. Robert leapt to his feet, still screaming and gripping the part of his back where Grizzly had bitten him. Grizzly hadn’t actually been trying to hurt Robert but was just letting him know that he was tired of the way he was acting and meant business. Robert leapt around the yard, still screaming bloody murder. This in turn got Grizzly excited, thinking that it was now part of a game. My dog leapt around Robert, barking and nipping at him that made Robert scream even more and run around the yard, trying to get away from the dog.

After a few moments, a man burst into our yard. It was Robert’s dad who had been out in his yard planting trees or weeding. “What’s are you doing!” He demanded as he snatched up his son who was shirtless, shoeless and sock less holding the back of his neck where there wasn’t even a mark, but the way Robert was carrying on, you’d have thought my dog had bitten his head clean off.

“I’m just minding my own business.” I said. Which is exactly what his son had told me to do. Robert’s dad seemed plenty mad and stormed out of our yard like the devil himself was on his heels.

I slid off the porch railing and put my arms around Grizzly’s neck. “Good boy.” I said. “You didn’t bite him until you had to.”

As I thought of this memory, I couldn’t help but smile. I wondered, could I sic Grizzly on Doug just once? It seemed like a great idea at first but then I thought better of it, Grizzly only bit Robert because Robert was bothering him…was there a way I could trick Doug into being mean to Grizzly? No, I told myself, I wouldn’t let else be mean to my dog…I would bite Doug myself first.

I did find that best way to avoid Doug was to never be at home but breeze in only long enough to catch a quick sandwich at lunchtime. Good old peanut butter and honey. I’d have preferred just a plain slice of bread with nothing on it, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’d eat nothing but bread for breakfast, lunch and dinner if I let you.” Mom had said one day. I couldn’t argue with her either because she was right, to me a slice of plain bread was the best meal any kid could ever ask for.

But as I was saying, I had found a way in which I could avoid Doug for nearly the whole day. Nighttime was something totally different though. Doug had taken over my bed and forced me to sleep on the floor and sometimes wrestled me to the ground, “all for fun.” He would say whenever Mom or Dad had come in to check on us. I loathed going to bed and would always try to stay up as late as I could.

It was late in the afternoon about three or four days later when Doug and I had another serious run in. I had just eaten lunch and was preparing to head out again on another hike when I passed my sister’s bedroom. I noticed that Doug was sitting on Shawna’s bed, looking at the bedspread before him. He was looking at something but I couldn’t tell what because his back shielded it from view. Being somewhat curious, I stole quietly into the room and looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. He had my checkerboard sat before him and was staring at the pieces as if engrossed in an important game and was contemplating his next move.


I stood there for a minute before tiptoeing back to the doorway. I bumped something with my foot because it made a sound and Doug turned and saw me.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

I kept walking. “Nothing.”

As I left the room I heard him call out, “Wait just a minute, Jason!”

I paused for a moment then turned back. “What?” I asked cautiously

Doug motioned to the checkerboard. “Wanna play?”

I studied his expression carefully, I’d expected some slanderous remark, after all, Doug hadn’t had one nice thing to say to me since he’d been here and now here he was, acting like we were the best of friends. Why was he suddenly being so nice? The only thing I could figure was that he was bored out here with nobody to play with and this was softening him.

I stepped uncertainly into the room.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun.” He persisted with a friendly smile.

I couldn’t believe that he was smiling. I also couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was stepping into the lair of a dangerous animal. Still, if he were will willing to offer and play, shouldn’t I? I sat down on the bed across from him, the checkerboard separating the distance between us. “Alright,” I said. “But I’m red.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to move one of the red checkers. Doug stopped me, grabbing my hand. Surprised, he let go with another smile that had all the sincerity of a crocodile’s. “What you think about making a little wager before we begin?”

“A wager?” I asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“A bet,” Doug clarified, grinning away like the Cheshire Cat.

“What sort of a bet?” I asked.

Doug pretended to be in deep thought. Finally his face lit up, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe something like, the winner gets the loser’s dessert tonight?”

I smelled deeply and noticed, for the first time, the thick sweet aroma of rhubarb crumble drifting in the air. It smelled wonderful. Yesterday, the girls and I had discovered a patch of wild rhubarb growing on the far side of the creek. Mom had told us that if we picked it, she would make the crumble.

Doug must have noticed Mom making the crumble earlier. I figured that he probably wanted to eat as much as he could because Mom had yet to give us any sweets since Doug and Tracy had come. I imagined that he was suffering from a sugar withdrawal. A bet like this didn’t really bother me; after all, I wasn’t such a bad checker player and was fairly confident that I would win.

Despite my flash of confidence, something inside was warning me no to take the bet. I opened my mouth to tell Doug that I had changed my mind but something stronger in me desperately wanted to show him up. Just the day before, Doug had proved to Dad that he could not only out-run me, but out push-up me as well. The way Dad was beaming over Doug you would have thought that he’d won a gold medal at the Olympics. “Did you see that?” Dad had said. “Why don’t you try to run like that, Jason?”

“Because I’m not an ape.” I whispered under my breath.

All night I was forced to listen to Doug’s bragging about just how amazing he really was. More than anything I really wanted to put him in his place and show him that he wasn’t as good at everything as he thought. Ignoring the nagging I felt pulsing through my body, I said, “Deal.”

Doug and I shook hands to seal the bet.

After we had shaken hands, Doug graciously let me make the first move. I slid my first checker to the left side of the board. Doug mirrored my move on his side. I moved another checker; once-again Doug copied my move exactly. This went on for the first few moves of the game until it became impossible to copy me without losing his own pieces. Several moves later Doug succeeded in making the first jump and winning one of my checkers. He smiled triumphantly, thinking he was really something. His smile faded on my next move when I double-jumped him.

Outside the room I could hear Shawna and Tracy taking about something but I ignored them, all my concentration was centered on the game with Doug. The game wasn’t just over dessert, it was for respect. If I lost, Doug would always know that he had the better of me, whether or not I had won the fight. But if I won, it would show him that I could beat him at something else as well and he wasn’t nearly as amazing as he believed he was. Doug jumped two more of my checkers but I didn’t care, in the process he had moved one of his checkers from the home row, opening it up for me to get a king. Not long after I had first been introduced to checkers I discovered that if I didn’t move any of my checkers from the row closest to me for as long as I could, it kept my opponent from getting crowned and then having to worry about a king who could move in any direction.

I smiled broadly as I was crowned first and then used that king to jump two more of Doug’s pieces.

Doug sat and studied the board as my king moved towards several open checkers of his. The king was out and about to show no mercy on the men before him! It was obvious that Doug was losing, but surprisingly he wasn’t the least bit upset about it. In fact, he was just sitting there with a blank expression. I began to wonder if he was sick. A sinister twinkle appeared in his eyes as I jumped another of his checkers and laid it in the pile I had accumulated.

“It sure is pretty outside today.” Doug said, eyes trailing to the window behind me. I turned and looked through the large picture window overlooking the driveway. The yard was empty except for a few birds sitting on the fence, in the gentle breeze, the tire swing hanging from the weeping willow swayed to and fro. It was a beautiful day outside. As I looked out at the beauty around me, I resolved that after the game I would bury the hatchet with Doug. Maybe I’d even ask if he wanted to build a fort together, after all, if he was going to be this nice maybe I’d like to be around him.

I drew my eyes from the window and back to the game as Doug was making his next move. He slid one of his black checkers into an open spot in my home row. “Crown me,” he said triumphantly.

I blinked. I could’ve sworn I hadn’t moved any checkers from my home row... maybe I’d moved it earlier when I wasn’t paying attention. I brushed it off as I crowned his checker. I reached to move my king and discovered that the square it had previously occupied was now empty.

After a quick scan of the board it was obvious—my king was missing.

“Where’s my king?” I asked.

“I jumped it on my last move.” Doug said offhandedly.

Could he have? No, I’d watched him make his last move and it wasn’t anywhere near my king—in fact, there was no way he could have captured it. It was then that I noticed several more of my pieces had vanished as well. Doug had moved the pieces when I’d looked out the window!

“You nasty little cheat!” I said, “You moved the pieces!”

“I did not,” he said. “You just have a bad memory.”

“You did!” My voice was beginning to reach a shout. “You switched them when my back was turned!”

Doug shrugged. “We didn’t make up any rules saying that you couldn’t switch the checkers.”

“That’s a rule everyone already knows.” I protested.

Doug shook his head. “Not where I’m from.”

I’d like to tell him where he was from! My voice was no longer beginning to reach a shout but was there full throttle and my temper was flaming. Doug had cheated and now had the gall to sit there and say that everything was fine! I’m not sure what I said next but it must have been pretty awful considering the shocked expressions on the faces of Shawna, Tracy, and Dad who had all materialized in the doorway.

“What’s going on here?” Dad demanded, it was evident that he didn’t appreciate the use of language like that in the house, after all, that was his job.

I opened my mouth to explain but Dad came to his own conclusion. Before I could utter a single word, Dad caught me by the arm and practically carried me out of the room. As I was whisked past Shawna and Tracy, Shawna shot me a sympathetic look. I was ushered past them down the hallway to my room where the door was forcibly shut behind us.

I fully expected Dad to come unglued—whenever Shawna or I got into trouble he usually didn’t waste idle time with explanations or listening to pleas of mercy. Dad’s theology with punishment was short and simple, make it hurt and make it quick.

I was pretty scared as we stood together in the room. Dad was towering over me like the giant willow tree outside. He didn’t appear angry though, it was more…tired. We stood there for several silent moments. I stared at the orange carpet on the floor, I wondered just why someone had picked orange…was it because it was on sale because it was so ugly or was it because—Dad’s voice broke into my thoughts.

“Here’s seven dollars,” he said as he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He took out several one-dollar bills and tossed them onto my bed. “Why don’t you run away?”

I was really surprised as my dad said this and I looked from my dad to the money and then back to him again. I couldn’t believe he was saying this. Where would I go? Seven years old and living on the road? What would happen to me? Would I end up like those homeless guys I’d seen on television, scrounging meals from people’s garbage cans? Suddenly, Mom’s split-pea soup and lentils didn’t seem so bad after all.

I wasn’t sure what I could say so we just stood there. The silence as so loud that I could hear the sounds of my own heart beating in my ears. I wondered if Dad could hear it too. Finally I was able to squeak out, “I don’t want to go.” My voice was barely over a whisper.

Dad’s face softened and he suddenly looked tired. “Then why can’t you get along with your cousin?” he asked, stuffing the money back into his wallet.

“Doug started it,” I protested. “He cheated in the game because I was winning.”

For the first time since Doug and Tracy had been here Dad was actually listening to what I was saying. Taking the silence as a cue to go on, I continued. I told him everything Doug had done to me over the past few weeks, from the bragging to pushing me around.

When I finished, Dad stood up. “Well, then Doug needs to learn that I’m serious about punishment and won’t tolerate the way he’s acting.” He took off his belt and held it in one hand. I backed up and cowered against the wall, making sure my bottom was away from him. I couldn’t believe it, after everything I had told him about Doug I was still going to be spanked. Spanked for something that wasn’t my fault. I felt hot tears coming to my eyes, it just wasn’t fair! It should be Doug in here with my dad getting spanked, not me!

Dad stepped towards me, brandishing the belt like a horsewhip. His voice was calm as he spoke to me. “Now, do I really have to hit you, or can you make it sound like I am?”

A ray of hope illuminated that corner of the room where I stood. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat; “I can make it sound like you are.” I said quietly.

“Then you had better scream like I’m beating the tar out of you.”

With this, Dad turned towards my bed and swung the belt so savagely it scared me even though I was on the other side of the room. The leather cut through the air with a whooshing noise and cracked as it hit the mattress.

I screamed.

Dad hit the bed another four or five times and with each crack of the belt I would let out another blood-curdling scream, like Dad was beating the living daylights out of me. It was actually pretty fun, with each hit I would try to outdo my previous cry and make it sound like I was literally being tortured.

Dad stopped and began to re-loop his belt around his waist. He moved towards the door and looked at me with a smile hidden away beneath his unkempt beard. “When you come out of this room, you had better look like you sounded.”

With this he left the room. As he passed by my sister’s room, Doug, Tracy and Shawna were all pretending to be playing checkers—but they really weren’t. There was no way they could concentrate on anything after my little performance from the next room. Dad stopped in the doorway and looked at the three of them with silent eyes. His gaze paused when he reached Doug.

“Any more problems and I will take care of it, whoever it is…get it?”

Doug swallowed hard and nodded his head. “Yes, Uncle George.” He said.

Dad waited for another moment, allowing his words to sink in, then returned to reading his newspaper in the living room. While this was happening, I slipped from my bedroom into the bathroom. I crawled up on the sink and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I began to rub my eyes with my fists good and hard to make sure they were red and puffy, and then I dribbled some water from the faucet down my cheeks. I was amazed just how real it looked! If I hadn’t been in the bedroom myself, I would have thought Dad had really whipped the tar out of me. I practiced making my bottom lip quiver slightly and uttered a sob with a bunch of sniffling sounds, like when you’re really trying to hold in a cry. I practiced for nearly a minute before I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. The house was so quiet I could hear the clock ticking away in the living room.

As I passed my sister’s room, I glanced inside. Shawna winced when she saw me and Tracy was crying herself. Doug’s expression was the most shocking of all. His eyes were as round as fried-eggs and his face had gone completely white. He liked his lips nervously as I let out one of my well-practiced sobs and continued to the living room with a slow measured pace, like walking really hurt. When I reached the living room, Dad looked up from his newspaper long enough to shoot me a quick wink. I smiled and had to cup my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing.

As I went outside I whistled for Grizzly and headed in the direction of the creek. I smelled the fresh air blowing into my face and watched the huge clouds billowing in the blueness above me. I had to smile; after all, I had the greatest Dad in the world.