Am I your only black friend? Before you answer, let me add to the question. I don’t mean George from accounting who knows all the ins and outs of last week’s game. I don’t mean the security guard you wave to every morning on your way into work. I mean, do you call them to have lunch? To complain about your kids, your spouse, your boss? Have they been personally and specifically invited to your home?
The problem with well-meaning
I have a lot of white friends, and during the past week a number have reached out to me to see how I am doing. I am conflicted about this. On the one hand, I deeply appreciate that they are thinking of me and my children and how we are reacting in this debilitating time of social unrest. But to be honest, what I would like them to do is reach out to their other friends. Specifically, their white friends. Because right now I need white people to speak to one another. I am wrestling with my own issues at this time; I cannot carry the burden of yours.
How do I feel? Tired. Worried. Anxious. You know what I am not? Surprised. None of my black friends are surprised. The possibility of this type of violence is not surprising to us. We may choose not to speak to you about it because you haven’t ever asked.
Well-meaning people say a lot of well-meaning things. “I can’t imagine how you feel” is right there at the top of the list. Have you tried? I’m asking because I know I don’t need to be Jewish to be distraught and outraged about anti-Semitism. And I know I don’t need to be gay to be disgusted and terrified by homophobia. So why is it so difficult for you to even imagine what it feels like to be black? This is just one reason why Black History Month shouldn’t be a single month.
Why I want you to see color
And then there is “I don’t see color.” Don’t you? If there are “too many” black people at an event, in a room, in your town or your school, do you notice? Does it make you feel uncomfortable, even just a little bit? You see color. Do you give more credibility to information coming from white colleagues than from your black co-workers? You see color. You do not have to wield a baton on a bridge to be a person who has racist thoughts.
Most of us at one point or another will make sweeping assumptions based on race. These range from the mild (all black people can dance, play basketball, etc.) to the more pernicious (black men are dangerous sexual predators, black bodies can withstand greater levels of violence than white bodies). Having racist thoughts does not make you a racist, but failing to question your racially-based assumptions does.
When you say I don’t see color, you are not doing me a favor. It’s as if you are telling me my brown skin is something you have to work to look past, to excuse even, in order to see my humanity. I want you to see my color as much as I want you to notice anything else about me. So please, go ahead and see my color. See me.
Dawn Porter is a documentary filmmaker. Her film John Lewis: Good Troublepremieres in theaters this spring.
Hello Everyone! Here is Chapter One of my new Novel. Enjoy and Happy Monday!
Mid-October 1984
It was almost midnight and the moon loomed like a big orange pumpkin in the dark, clear sky. Curled on the hard-narrow bed in a fetal position with a blanket over her, Susan Cole gazed at the moon’s reflection through the octagonal window eight feet above her. Depending on how she moved her head, the unevenness of the safety glass stretched and squeezed the moon’s image, much like a carnival mirror. Susan was struck by the moon’s brilliance, gazing at it until she saw black spots. She squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, the black spots were gone. She detected footsteps coming down the hallway and suddenly halting at her door. Bob, the charge nurse, was making his final rounds for the night.
The door opened and a bright light shone in her face. Susan lifted her head and squinted into the flashlight’s beam, then pulled the blanket over her head. The door closed, and for a minute or two Susan listened as Bob walked down the hall. Once his footsteps faded, Susan sat up, wrapping her blanket around her, and stared at the light shining underneath the door. When the light finally went out, Susan knew Bob had settled in for the night at the nursing station.
Now safe to move about, Susan threw off her blanket and hopped out of bed. She stooped to the floor, reached under the bed, and pulled out a shopping bag. She set it on the bed carefully and opened it, trying hard not to rattle the crackling paper. In the bag, she kept three outfits along with a pair of Reebok tennis shoes. She took out her jeans and a black sweater and quickly dressed.
Happy to be rid of the dull tan pajamas she’d had to wear since arriving at the hospital two weeks ago, Susan lingered on the edge of the bed and slipped on her Reeboks, tying the strings into neat bows. Leaping to her feet, Susan tiptoed to the closet, opened the door, and took out her black coat and matching wool hat. She threw on her jacket, buttoning it to her chin. With her hat in her hand, Susan tiptoed back to the bed, sat on the edge, twisted her curly blond hair into a bun, and pulled her hat over her head.
Then she sat there staring at the door, twiddling her thumbs while she waited on Doctor George Benny. He was her knight in shining armor, her psychiatrist, and her new lover. He promised to whisk her away from this crazy, awful place she’d found herself in. He promised her a better life from the dreary world she had always known.
While she waited, Susan found herself reflecting on the events that brought her to Salter’s Point Regional Hospital. She didn’t know if she’d been born cursed, or if her perpetual bad luck was a result of her father abandoning her to be raised by a drug-addicted mother. On welfare and high on crack most days, her mother just didn’t seem to care about her, so Susan learned to fend for herself. She came to hate herself as much as her mother seemed to, and acted out by sleeping with men and making superficial cuts on her wrists with a small switchblade. She never intended to seriously injure herself, the cutting just made herself feel better. She always treated the cuts and wrapped her arms with thick white gauze, and she wore shirts and sweaters with long sleeves to hide the damage. Except for the nurses and doctors at the psychiatric hospitals she often stayed in, Susan never told a soul about her terrible secret.
Eventually the cutting and sleeping around no longer soothed her, and she graduated to suicide attempts. She would take a bunch of pills and end up in a hospital getting her stomach pumped. Her intention was never to kill herself, she was just desperate for someone, anyone to care about her.
Hoping to leave her troubles behind her, Susan moved from California to Salter’s Point six months earlier, but things didn’t go as she’d planned. She couldn’t make enough money waitressing to pay her rent. She lost her apartment and found herself on the streets. Despondent, homeless and broke, Susan resorted to her old bad behavior. After overdosing on Tylenol, a man found her lying on the town sidewalk moaning in pain and he called 911. After spending time in a local hospital ICU, Susan’s doctor committed her to Salter’s Point Regional, her tenth commitment on record. Susan was saved, guaranteed free room and board for the duration of her stay.
It was at Salter’s Point Regional that Susan met Doctor George Benny. He was working the late shift when she was transferred in, and he assigned himself as her doctor. Susan immediately fell in love with him. When he spoke, she hung on his every word. The doctor’s marginal good looks and charming personality reminded Susan of her estranged father. Caught up in his seductive web, every day they would make love in the doctor’s office. Susan was ecstatic when George offered her a place to stay.
Together they planned Susan’s escape, and now, finally, the night had arrived. Susan was eager to begin her new life and leave the old one behind. So, with her hands clasped tight in her lap, Susan waited for the doctor. The shopping bag with her two additional outfits sat on the floor next to her feet. Susan stared at the door for some time, and when it opened, Doctor Benny entered the room. Susan’s eyes lit up, and she dove off the bed. She fell in his arms, almost knocking him over, and clung to his waist like an expectant child, gazing lovingly at him with bright blue eyes.
“Whoa,” he laughed, “slow down!”
“I thought you’d never get here!” Susan giggled like a schoolgirl. “I’ve been waiting all day!”
“I’m here now. I told you I would come.” George smiled. He was tall and slender with silver-gray hair and a mustache. George’s eyes were intense and sparkling blue. Years of smoking pipes every day left the doctor’s smile with mustard yellow teeth.
George embraced Susan and kissed her forehead, then released her and pointed to the bed. “Get your bag. We need to go. We don’t have much time.”
“What about my medication? I need my pills. They keep me calm.”
“Did Bob give you medication this evening?”
“Yes,” Susan said, snatching her shopping bag and following George to the door.
“No need to worry. I have plenty of medication at home.” He stopped for a moment and looked in both directions. Satisfied the coast was clear, he and Susan tiptoed toward the unit’s exit. When they passed the nursing station, Susan busted out laughing at Bob’s loud grizzly bear snore.
George became incensed. “Be quiet! You’re going to wake Bob up!”
As soon as those words left his lips, Bob’s snoring stopped. George and Susan held their breath as they stood frozen in place. Susan’s heart thumped hard in her chest as they watched Bob smack his lips and yawn. Seconds later, a soft snore rumbled from his lips, and a stream of clear liquid drooled from his mouth. Susan felt George squeeze her hand, causing her to cringe in agony. “Ouch! That hurts!”
“You almost got me in trouble,” George sneered.
“I didn’t mean to. Bob looks so funny sleeping there,” Susan whined as she poked her bottom lip out.
“Just be quiet, and let’s go!” George dragged her down the hall. Sweat dripped from his face. He fiddled with the key ring, dropping it, and it clanged on the floor. George moaned in exasperation and glanced down the hall to see if anyone was coming. “Shit, I just can’t get it together!”
Susan stooped over and picked up the key, handing it to George. “I think you need some of my medication. You’re a nervous wreck.” George cut his eyes at Susan, and she made a face. “Don’t look at me like that! I was only kidding!”
“If you say so,” George snapped as he unlocked the door. He hurled his slender body against the door, shoving it open. George grabbed Susan’s hand, and together they stepped out. After he closed the door, it automatically locked. The two lovers sprinted through the lobby and out the main entrance. The cold, crisp wind stung Susan’s face as they ran across the lit parking lot. They slowed down to a brisk walk as they made their way to George’s red Porsche.
While Susan waited for George as he fumbled with his keys to unlock and open her door, she looked back at the hospital. Dense white fog hung over the hospital, and its gloomy appearance reminded her of a haunted house. In the clock tower, a small light flickered on and off every three seconds, illuminating the clock’s sizable white face. The clock’s black hands crept to the numeral twelve, and Susan heard the clock chime twelve times.
Startled by the sound, bats that were hanging off the clock’s wooden ledge took off with their wings roaring like rushing water. They swooped back and forth over the clock tower. Once the chiming ended, the night creatures settled on the clock’s narrow ledge, lined up like big black crows on a picket fence. One by one, they flipped upside down with their naked bodies suspended in mid-air as if posing for a Halloween portrait. Susan shuddered, turning back around as George opened the car door. “It’s creepy around here,” she mumbled under her breath.
Susan slipped into the soft leather seat of George’s Porsche while he dashed around the car, opened the door, and slipped into the driver’s side. They snuggled together briefly, then George zoomed out of the parking lot with lightning speed, passing through the open the iron gate and down the road. Susan suddenly realized she hadn’t seen John, the security guard, in the lobby when she and George left the hospital.
“Honey, I didn’t see John when we left. Do you know where he might be tonight?”
“Who cares where he is? Be glad we didn’t run into him. Do you want me to go to jail?” George quipped as he stepped on the brake, slowing his vehicle down.
Susan withered in her seat. She hated when George snapped at her. “No, George, I was just asking. He’s usually around.”
George remained silent as he navigated down the sharp, curvy road that snaked through the town of Salter’s Point. Susan gazed out the window at the tall evergreen trees that lined each side of the street. Salter’s Point Regional sat on a cliff, and on the right side of the road was a deep, vast valley. Susan lurched up and strained her neck, trying to look down. All she saw was darkness, and a cold chill rippled through her spine. The whole scene was eerie, and it gave her the creeps.
Susan sighed heavily and sat back in her seat. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized they’d been driving for fifteen minutes. Eager to see her new home, she cleared her throat. “Um, excuse me, George, do we have far to go?”
“Just another fifteen minutes,” he smiled.
“Cool, I can’t wait!” Susan laid her head on the headrest and gazed out the window, counting stars in the midnight sky. Fifteen minutes later, the car came to a stop and George announced, “We’re here.”
Susan straightened in her seat. George’s home took her by surprise. Instead of a mansion like she’d envisioned, his house was a modest white bungalow. It had two front windows with windowpanes painted black. Thick fescue grass grew in the front yard, and red roses crept along the white picket fence. A cobblestone sidewalk led up to the porch, with four steps going to the front door. The door was red with a white wicker chair on each side. Susan sighed with disappointment. Very cute!No mansion. Oh, well.
“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” George said as he flipped the lock and opened the car door. He stepped out, opened the rear door and he grabbed Susan’s bag. George shut the door, and Susan was already out of the car. “I like your home,” she fibbed.
“Thank you,” George said as he reached over and pulled Susan to him. She, in turn, wrapped her arms around his waist. George lowered his head and planted a wet, passionate kiss on her thin lips. He pulled back and stared into her eyes. “Darling, welcome to your new home. I hope you’ll be comfortable here.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Her lips erupted into a childish grin. George opened the gate, and Susan followed him in. They walked up the steps and George unlocked the door,
twisting the knob and opening it. He flipped the light switch on the wall, and the ceiling light came on. Susan heard soft jazz playing in the background as she followed George inside. He shut the door and Susan looked around wide-eyed. “I hear music. Where is it coming from?”
“I’ve built-in speakers wired throughout my home so I can play music all over the house.”
“So cool.” Susan smiled taking in the ambiance of George’s home. In the living room, along the back wall sat a black leather couch. A few feet from the couch was a matching chair. Next to the chair, a CD Player with CDs stacked on each side sat on a cherry wood entertainment console and a large abstract oil painting with red, blue and orange colors hung over the console. Across the room, a huge stone fireplace with ash residue on the hearth sat between two front rectangle windows with white blinds. So, simple! Susan thought.
Doubled glass French doors separated the living room from the dining area. George opened the doors and stood on the side so Susan could go in. The dining room was simply decorated with an oak oval table and four chairs in black upholstery. On the wall hung another abstract painting with black and burgundy colors. The painting caught Susan’s attention. “George, I love this painting. The colors are so striking.”
“I collect abstract art. I find the art interesting,” he said.
George passed thru an archway leading into the kitchen. Susan followed him and was shocked by the kitchen’s small size. The black refrigerator and stove took up a lot space along the wall. On the other side of the kitchen, there was a black shiny sink, with granite counters. Black painted cabinets hovered over the counters. Susan wondered if black was George’s favorite color. Boy, he had so much of it. “George, is black your favorite color?”
“Black is a masculine color. I like decorating with it.”
“Oh, I definitely see that,” Susan replied. She followed George out of the kitchen, passing through the dining room and out the French doors. George turned left stepping into a short hallway with wood stairs. “Time to show you my room.”
He ran upstairs with Susan on his heels. George pointed to a small room as they walked down the short hallway. “This is one of the two bathrooms. The other one is in the master bedroom.”
“Oh,” Susan said taking note. At the end of the hall was another set of French doors. The doors opened into the master bedroom and when George opened them, there sat a king-sized bed with a black comforter. On the wood floor was a black fur rug and to the right was the bathroom. The walls were bare, except for the rectangle window on the far wall. George dropped Susan’s bag and closed the blinds. Susan plopped her behind on the bed and looked around. George walked over and gently pushed her back on the bed. He covered her face with sloppy, wet kisses and Susan wiggled and giggled with delight. Hopelessly excited, Susan knew she had arrived. Despite all the bad things that had happened in her life to this point, she could finally relax and live her happily ever after.
Good Morning Everyone. In the wake of George Floyd’s death, I like to take a moment from my usual postings of funny stories to reflect on the topic of racism in America. This year, I will turn 62 years old. As an African American woman, I have experienced many incidences of racism in my short life. Below is one of my experiences I would like to share with my readers.
I was twelve years old when I became aware of racism for the first time. In the fall of 1970, my, father, a command sergeant major in the army and a three-time war veteran, received orders to go to Bozeman, Montana for two years, shortly after he returned from Vietnam. We were living in Tacoma, Washington at the time, and I was in the sixth grade. Two weeks before my father was to report for duty in Bozeman, my parents piled me and my four siblings into their giant Oldsmobile and drove to Montana for the weekend. It was a long and grueling drive, 690 miles one way to be exact.
Once we crossed the Montana state line, we ran into snow. I remembered the snow piled high on the side of the road and the road appeared to stretch for miles with no ending in sight. By the time we arrived in Bozeman, it was near dusk. I remembered Bozeman as a small town with streetlights flickering on and off. The town was almost empty except for a few town residents lingered on the sidewalks. Most of the businesses were closed except for the twenty-four-hour diner on the corner.
Exhausted and hungry, my parents decided to find a place to stay before getting something to eat. My Dad stopped at five different motels with vacancies, and not one of those places agreed to rent to my father. Finally, after two hours of searching for a place, a small motel showed us mercy and graciously allow my parents to rent a room for the weekend. After we checked in, my Dad went to the local diner and got us something to eat then we settled in for the night.
The next morning, after we showered and dressed, we piled into the Oldsmobile and went to the local diner for breakfast. As soon as we walked in, everybody in the restaurant twisted around in their seat and stared. We were the only black people in the restaurant, and the whole town as far as I could tell. I remembered feeling uneasy. They watched us take a seat at the table closest to the door. I remembered my father insisting on sitting on the side where he could view the entry. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. As we sat and waited for the waitress, immediate dread came over me. These people staring at us didn’t want us here. No one said a word. We waited patiently for the waitress. Ten minutes later, she came over and politely took our orders. Our meals came out twenty minutes later, and we ate most of the meal in silence. My parents had a brief conversation and that was it. Somehow, we distinctly knew, we must stay on guard, ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
After we finished eating, my Dad paid for the meal and we left. As we exit the diner, the people there continued to stare. Even at the age of twelve, I didn’t want any parts of Bozeman, Montana. I also asked my father why we were even moving there. He told he had orders to the army base outside of Bozeman, and this assignment will be his last one before he retired. I cringed at the thought of living in this dreary, unfriendly place for two years. I had seen enough and was ready to go back home. I was not happy.
My parents searched for housing the entire weekend, and although, housing was available, no one in the town would rent to my parents. Racism in Bozeman, Montana was thick like Karo syrup. It was clear, we were unwelcomed there, so we packed our bags and returned to Washington State. The following Monday, my father called his commanding officer and relayed his concerns about moving to Bozeman. His commanding officer gave him new orders, and his assignment was an instructor for the national guard in Tulsa, Oklahoma. In 1972, my father retired from the United States Army.
This experience opened my young eyes to racism. Racism has reared its ugly head off and on throughout my life. Sometimes it’s blatant, other times, it’s subtle and there are times when it hits me with condescending condemnation. I don’t know which is worse, but the outcome is always the same. “Your kind are not welcome”, “You have no seat at the table,” You have no right to justice or self-determination” as a Black American in this country.
There are some white Americans oblivious to the pain they often inflict on people of color. They continued to support the mantle of racism despite George Floyd’s cruel death. They used tactics to change the narrative instead of acknowledging the pain of racism. They preferred to rationalize racism’s existence instead of looking for ways to reform this country’s discriminatory practices. They even go as far as using race and religion to justify their reasoning and mindset which is an insult to the black community.
For example, on FB yesterday, a white colleague of mine posted a statement by a bi-racial black man who stated he had a white mother. His issue was not stamping out racism but addressing sexual immorality and other sins outlined in the bible. This post infuriated me. Did he think he was exempt from racism because he has a white mother? Most black people in America have a white relative in their immediate family or background.
The mixing of the two races started in slavery. White slave owners raped black women and this violence birthed bi-racial children. Today bi-racial unions are by choice. But these children who come out of these unions are still view as black. They are not exempt from racism, bigotry and inequality. Does this man not know America’s history? He’s still a black man. Having a white mother does not exempt him from the brunt of racism nor does it give him the special privilege. He will be stopped just like any other black man on the street minding his own business. He will be questioned, harassed and even killed.
This same friend detested Colin Kaepernick when he kneeled against racial injustice in this country during the national anthem. His mother is white, but this brother had enough sense to realize his blackness, self-determination and boldness was viewed negatively by white American society. Some white Americans changed the narrative and made Kaepernick’s protest about the flag instead of the racism, inequality and injustice of black people he was protesting. They didn’t miss the point. They didn’t want to face their sin.
Therefore, on FB yesterday, my friend tried to invoke another narrative. She refused to acknowledge the crime of racism, and the injustice of black people in this country. She and others like her failed to see how White America has consistently and persistently benefitted from the oppression of black people. They never see their participation in the enforcement of racism and injustice as a problem. They view it as Black America’s problem. How can you call yourself a Christian and discriminate against your fellow man of a different race or skin color? Does she and this bi-racial man not know that God is a God of Justice and, he, too, despises racism and injustice just like any other sin on this planet?
It’s seems that all Christians of every stripe and color should want to fight against racism and injustice. Instead of taking responsibility for the sinful, destructive nature racism and injustice have on people of color, especially black people, they blindly focused on other issues and buried their heads in the sand.
Racism, inequality and injustice are immoralities too. Black lives have suffered way too long under the sin of oppression. It’s time to reform the justice system in this country and make it fair and equal to people of color not just for White America. If this occurs and the nation successfully makes that change, then George Floyd’s death will not be in vain.
I know its been awhile since I’ve publish a post. As a hospital social worker, I’ve been on the frontlines helping my patients and families battled the Coronavirus, quite a challenge. On a lighter note, I would like to remind you about my newest novel, She Was A Fly In The Wrong Soup. It’s still in the editing process and due for release sometime this summer. For the next 2-3 weeks, I plan to post the first three chapters giving you some insight into this hilarious, real-life story. Therefore, without further adieu, let’s start with the prologue. Enjoy and Happy Mother’s Day! (Comments are welcome)
Prologue
Early Spring
It was noon at Saint Mary’s Cemetery in the town of Salter’s Point. The sun, a raging ball of fire, hung in the bright blue sky and substantial-looking evergreen trees swayed in the light cool breeze. Twigs blew around gravesites, and black crows howled and swooped back and forth. A huge black cat with fiery golden eyes crept among the gravesites, oblivious to the noises around him.
It had rained all night, and everything in the universe was damp. The cat didn’t care. With each measured step, he navigated around the cold and gray tombstones, wet hilly inclines, and slippery rocky paths. He knew where he was going. He was heading to his favorite place. The lonely gravesite beneath the big evergreen tree.
This had been the cat’s daily routine since the horrendous fire in the valley three years ago. The cat made his home on Salter’s Point Cliff inside the trunk of a large evergreen tree in the woods behind Salter’s Point Regional Hospital. He would leave his home precisely at noon, run by the iron gate in front of the hospital, and pause to linger in front, looking through the iron bars. Then he would run down the winding road to the town of Salter’s Point at the bottom of the cliff, not stopping until he safely reached the cemetery and the tombstone scripted with the letters “JL.” There he always found a warm bowl of soup left by the old groundskeeper, who would watch from a respectful distance while the cat lapped up the tasty treat.
The cat sat in front of his bowl of chicken soup and observed three flies creeping along the rim. Faint scratchy melodies floated from the flies rubbing their tiny silver wings while the soup’s spicy aroma drew their nosy antennas inside the bowl. The flies teetered on the edge, unaware of the doom that awaited them. Annoyed, the cat swiped the pan with his massive midnight paw, spilling the contents onto the ground. Two flies flew off, leaving one unlucky fellow squirming and wiggling in a sea of chicken soup. The little fellow struggled to save himself, and after a brave fight, he shook himself off and flew on his way. The cat lapped up the remainder of soup and when he was finished, he laid in front of the tombstone, remaining there until dusk.
When twinkling stars showed in the dark sky and the moon came out from behind the clouds, the cat lurched up and slowly crept away. He soon took off trotting back to the cemetery entrance. He ran out the gate and up the winding road back to his home on the cliff. There he would rest and mourn. His faint eerie cry, a whisper in the wind, a reminder of a tragedy long ago. With sadness on his heart, he would turn in for the night, only to wake the next day and begin the scenario again. Repeating the same routine, traveling the same route, going to the same destination. His only goal in life was to lie on the grave underneath the evergreen tree watching another hungry fly teeter on the edge of his bowl of soup. Just as his mistress had been, it was always a fly in the wrong soup.
When young social worker Rachel Thomas accepts her first “real” job at Salter’s Point Regional in Washington State, she expects to be working around crazy people. After all, the hospital was once a notorious insane asylum.
Imagine her surprise when she realizes that many of the crazies at Salter’s Point Regional are the professional misfits who are supposed to be caring for the patients. It seems they are running the hospital and creating mayhem of their own. A manic attorney, a sex-crazed psychiatrist, and a drunk therapist are a few of the many professionals with blurred lines of insanity.
Rachel tries desperately to fit in while still caring for her patients. Despite feeling like a “a fly in the wrong soup,” she succeeds in doing her job. Until tragedy strikes and turns her world upside down.
Inspired by true events in a psychiatric hospital in the 1980s, this novel is a revised edition of my first novel, The Cat on Salter’s Point.She Was A Fly in the Wrong Soup is schedule for release this summer! Stay tuned!
Note: Doctor Louis, now back at work, interviews an unusual patient. He soon discovers the patient harbors an interesting scary past.
Nurses and social workers gathered in the conference room for the morning report. Doctor Louis, still wearing his wool hat, sat at the head of the conference table scowling. When Rachel entered the room, she couldn’t help to notice the tension in the air. She glanced over at Doctor Louis, and she immediately realized why. His brooding, intimidating presence had already set the tone. Everyone was in a somber mood, and whispering among one another. A definite change from what she was used to. Rachel inhaled deeply, settling in a chair in a distant corner. She wanted to be invisible, unnoticed. She wasn’t interested in anyone calling on her and asking her questions.
Standing in the doorway wearing dark sunglasses was a tall, dark-skinned man with a colossal-looking afro. Dressed in an army jacket, blue jeans, and combat boots, the man glanced around the room as he strolled in. He took a seat next to Doctor Louis, and the two men shook hands. Rachel’s eyes were big like saucers. Who is this cat? How does he know Doctor Louis?
Rachel carefully checked him out, studying his face. He had high cheekbones, and his smooth ebony complexion was flawless. Mmmmmm……this dude is a bonafide hunk! But why the sunglasses? Are the lights too bright in the room? What is his deal? Damn, I just don’t get it!
“Greetings Everyone!” Doctor Louis’s voice boomed like thunder as he peered over his eyeglasses, glancing around the table. “I know everyone is so glad to see me back!”
Chuckles broke out around the room. The man with the colossal-looking afro didn’t crack a smile. Doctor Louis parted his lips into his crooked grin. He turned, facing the man with the colossal-looking afro. “My friends, this here is Doctor Everett James. He’s covering for Doctor Benny while he’s out for a couple of days.”
So this is Doctor James! Rachel mused. He’s the same man I saw in the parking lot with Doctor Benny the other day. A doctor dressed like that? Go figured!
As Doctor Louis carried on, Rachel sat back and observed Doctor James more closely. She wished he would take off his sunglasses so she could see his eyes. When he finally spoke, his deep voice rumbled like a small earthquake, and when he smiled, straight white teeth emerged. “Good Morning, everyone! As Doctor Louis has informed you, I’ll be covering for Doctor Benny. There is no reason to change your routine on my account, just carry on as usual.”
So he’s flexible. How refreshing! To keep from staring at the handsome doctor, Rachel kept her eyes on Doctor Louis as he reviewed patient details on his list. Some of the information provoked laughter among the staff. Doctor Louis told the team about a patient who heard Chinese voices pointing out he was caucasian and only spoke and understood English. He informed staff about another patient who feared his brain was hijacked by green aliens. Police brought him in after the neighbors complained he was shooting at dogs and squirrels in their yards with his little Beebe gun. There was one patient, Rachel, found most amusing as Doctor Louis read his information. This man was found in Seattle, downtown, standing on third avenue mooning pedestrians as they walked by. Doctor Louis made a particular point of telling staff this man had tattoos and pimples on his butt. The team howled with mirthless laughter.
As Doctor Louis finished up his report, Rachel got an inkling she was being observed. She looked up, and Doctor James was staring right at her. He smiled, and Rachel looked away, suddenly embarrassed. When the meeting was over, Rachel bolted from her seat and went for the door. Doctor Louis stopped her. “Miss Thomas,” he called out.
Panicky, Rachel spun around and looked at Doctor Louis with big eyes. “Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Do you mind meeting me in my office at ten-thirty to interview these new patients?”
Rachel glanced at her watch and saw she had an hour to play with. “Sure, no problem, I’ll meet you at ten-thirty.” And without hesitation, Rachel dashed out the door. She hurried over to the admissions unit and sat in a spot at the end of the nursing station. The nursing station and the patient dining area opened into one big forum. It was designed this way so the nurses could keep watch over the patients.
Heavy gray smoke hung stagnant in the air. Patients paced back and forth, puffing on their cigarettes. Dying inside while inhaling the suffocating smoke, Rachel coughed repeatedly. Despite her discomfort, Rachel remained in her seat. Weeks behind in her charting, she had to catch up, so she soldiered on fighting with the smoke around her. Suddenly a deep voice rumbled from behind, and Rachel lurched forward. Her heart jumped in her chest as she turned to see who it was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Doctor James declared.
“Um…I didn’t realize you were here.” Rachel melted when she saw he was without his sunglasses. He had mesmerizing oval-shaped dark brown eyes she found sexy. He stared at her, and she stared back, covering her mouth as she coughed. Rachel waved cigarette smoke away from her face. “I’m allergic,” she informed him.
“Cigarette smoke can be a pain in the ass if you’re not a smoker,” he calmly said.
“It’s nauseating, and I hate it. It ends up in your clothes, your hair…well anyway, I don’t mean to burden you with my issues,” Rachel apologized.
“Not a problem, by the way, I don’t believe we officially met, my name is Everett James,” he grinned.
“Um…my name is Rachel Thomas,” she stammered, feeling uneasy again.
Doctor James smiled. “Glad to meet you. I certainly look forward to working with such a lovely lady.”
Rachel felt her cheeks getting hot, and her heart fluttered in her chest. Embarrassed and pleased at the same time by his compliment, she found herself drawn to him. She glanced at her watch. It was ten-thirty. Time to meet with Doctor Louis. “Listen, it’s nice to meet you, but I got to go. I need to get some fresh air, and besides, Doctor Louis is waiting on me,” she said.
“Right, you and he have some interesting patients to interview.”
“Yep, see you around,” Rachel waved as she dashed out of the nursing station. On her way to Doctor Louis’s office, she fell out laughing to herself. I think I better keep my distance. I can get into some serious trouble with that man!
Only five minutes late, Rachel knocked on Doctor Louis’s door. She braced herself, anticipating his anger, but when he opened the door, he greeted her with his warm crooked smile. “Great, you’re here. I was just getting started.”
He whirled around and returned to his desk. Rachel walked in and shut the door. Sitting in front of her, was a puny little man with icy blue eyes and a stringy blond ponytail. He dangled his legs over the armrest of his chair, and Rachel noticed he had black smudges on his overalls. When she walked by him, a musky smell assaulted her nostrils. She frowned, wrinkling up her nose. Sally smiled, keeping her lips tight, trying not to laugh out loud as Rachel hurried over and joined her on the sofa.
For several minutes, no one spoke. Doctor Louis’s loud wheezing broke up the silence. He repeatedly coughed, clearing his throat. A square ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts sat on his desk. Plagued with a bad smoker’s cough, Doctor Louis had no intention of giving up his hazardous vice. Minutes passed before Doctor Louis finished reviewing the chart. As he closed the record, he looked over at Sally and Rachel.“Ladies, this here is Bobby Pickett. They found him downtown on third avenue mooning pedestrians. The nurses believe he suffers from amnesia because when they questioned him about the incident, he couldn’t remember.”
“Hi Bobby, my name is Rachel Thomas, your social worker.” Rachel smiled. Bobby just stared at her.
“I’m Sally Dobbins, the head nurse on the unit,” Sally said.
Bobby nodded his head, but he still doesn’t say a word. Annoyed, Doctor Louis snapped at him. “Does the cat got your tongue, son?”
“No, sir,” Bobby made a face and looked up at the ceiling.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and I want you to answer to the best of your ability.”
“If you insist,” Bobby flippantly answered, glancing around the room.
Doctor Louis let out a harsh breath. “Tell us where you came from?”
“New York,” Bobby replied.
“How long have you been here in Washington State?” Doctor Louis leaned forward and folded his arms on the desk.
“A few days…maybe a week,” Bobby’s icy blue eyes drifted to his lap.
“What made you decide to come here?”
“I needed a change in scenery.”
Doctor Louis rolled his eyes and fell back in his chair. “So let me get this straight,” Doctor Louis clarified. “You traveled three thousand miles across the country for a change in scenery? Are you kidding me? How did you get here?” Doctor Louis had an inkling Bobby wasn’t being truthful.
“I hitchhiked,” Bobby flippantly said.
“You hitchhiked?” Doctor Louis rolled his eyes heavenward again. “So you were dropped off on third avenue downtown and decided to pull down your pants to show people on the street your pimply, tattooed behind, interesting.”
Unable to hold back, Rachel and Sally fell out laughing. Bobby winked at them with a smirk on his face.
“So you think what you did was funny.”
“Hell, it was fucking hilarious!” Bobby joked.
Doctor Louis frowned, shifting position in his seat. Convinced Bobby was lying and hiding something, Doctor Louis pressed on. “I reviewed your chart. You told the admissions nurse you’ve never been diagnosed with a mental illness. Is that true?”
“Yep!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why not?” Bobby challenged.
“People who pull down their pants on the street in front of thousands of people aren’t exactly what I call sane,” Doctor Louis deadpanned.
Bobby grinned, wickedly showing two jagged front teeth. “I never said I was sane.”
“Apparently not,” Doctor Louis agreed. He peppered Bobby with more questions scaring the man. “Have you ever heard voices, had racing thoughts, or felt suicidal or killed anyone?”
“Whoa, slow down, doc! I’m not crazy!”
Doctor Louis laughed. “Son, I think you’re crazy as hell!”
Bobby glared at the doctor. “You’re the crazy one!”
“How so?”
“You have crazy looking eyes, and you look spooky in that wool hat.”
“You think you’re tough and scary, don’t you?”
Bobby straightened up and slid his legs off the armrest. “Old man, I’m tougher and scarier than you think.”
Chuckling out loud, Doctor Louis said. “So, you hitchhiked across the country for a change in scenery? I’m sorry son, I just don’t believe that garbage!”
Rachel and Sally exchanged glances trying not to bust out laughing. Sally looked down and furiously scribbled on her notepad.
“Who cares what you think, old man!” Bobby hissed as he folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”
“Oh, you been through something? Tell me about it,” the doctor said.
Bobby looked away. Refusing to look at the doctor. However, Doctor Louis refused to put up with Bobby’s antics. “Look at me, son…I said, look at me!”
Bobby widened his icy blue eyes, and he provocatively stared at the doctor. “Old geezer, Are you satisfied? See, I’m looking at you!”
“You’re running from something, aren’t you? Who are you hiding from?” Doctor Louis knew something was up.
“Doc, all you’re doing is fishing for information, and harrassing me.”
Doctor Louis shrugged his shoulders and flatly said. “Son, your story just doesn’t add up.”
“Well, you’re wrong, old man!” Agitated, Bobby tapped his fingers hard on the chair armrest. Doctor Louis took note. “What’s wrong son? You seemed a little upset.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to tell me the truth? The plain truth,” Doctor Louis said.
“I don’t have anything else to say to you.”
“Very well then, you can go back to the unit.” Doctor Louis rosed to his feet and walked to the door. When he opened it, he turned to face Bobby. “You can go now.”
Bobby stood up. “How long will I have to be here?”
“I’ll let you know in a few hours.”
As soon as Bobby walked out, Doctor Louis slammed the door. “He’s a lying, and he’s hiding something!”
Rachel arched an eyebrow getting concerned. “What do you think is going on with him?”
“He’s hotter than a loaded pistol. He’s running from the law,” Doctor Louis said matter flatly. “There’s no rhyme or reason why he’s here. Call the sheriff and see if this asshole has any outstanding warrants,” he demanded.
Rachel hopped off the sofa and ran to the door. “I’ll get right on it!” She opened the door and ran out. Still scribbling notes on her pad, Sally spoke with angst in her voice. “Michael Louis, I hope you’re right about all of this.”
“Don’t worry, Missus Dobbins, I’m never wrong about these things.”
****
Meanwhile, back in her office, Rachel tapped her fingers on the desk. On hold with the phone receiver pressed to her ear, classical music played in the background. Several minutes went by before Rachel heard a hoarse , gritty female voice on the line. “This is Sheriff Beatrice, how can I help you?”
“This is Rachel Thomas, a social worker from Salter’s Point Regional, I need an emergency background check on a patient we have here in the hospital,” she pointedly requested.
“The name ma’am?”
“His name is Bobby Pickett.” Rachel heard a click and classical music played in her ear again. Frustrated to be on hold again, Rachel inhaled sharply. Five minutes later, she heard Sheriff Beatrice’s gritty voice again. “Hello. Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” Rachel said.
“It looks like you’ve got a convicted serial killer in your midst. Bobby Pickett is really John Pimple Butt Lewis. He escaped two weeks ago from the federal prison in New York, and the FBI has been looking for him ever since. You say he’s still there?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Rachel responded with big eyes. “A serial killer? Who did he kill?”
“Prostitutes,” the sheriff said. “A helluva lot of prostitutes. He had mommy issues. His momma was a prostitute. He killed her too.”
Rachel gasped. She fell back in her seat, flabbergasted. “What should we do?”
“Keep him there. I’ll send the FBI over.” A dial tone blared in her ear. The sheriff had hung up.
“Unbelievable! Doctor Louis was right!” Rachel stood up and hurried to the door. Jamie crossed her mind, and she stopped in her tracks. “Let me give her a quick call to see how she’s doing.”
Rachel returned to her desk and dialed Jamie’s phone number. The phone rang and rang, but Jamie never answered. Rachel hung up, worried. “I hope she’s okay.”
She left her office and went next door. Rachel knocked and entered Doctor Louis’s office at the same time. He looked up at her and growled. “So, little lady, what did you find out?”
Rachel stood in front of him with her notes in her hand. “Doctor Louis, Bobby Pickett’s real name is John Pimple Butt Lewis.”
Sally snickered out loud. “Gurl, you’ve got to be kidding me?”
“No, that’s what the sheriff told me.”
“So, do you suppose he got his name from the pimples and tattoos on his pasty butt?” Doctor Louis loved being sarcastic.
Rachel giggled. “Now, sir, I wouldn’t know.”
“With a name like John Pimple Butt Lewis…One would think his momma was high on crack when she decided to give him that name,” Doctor Louis joked.
Rachel and Sally giggled hysterically. “You were right,” Rachel said barely getting her words out from giggling too hard. “Two weeks ago, John escaped from a prison in New York. He’s a convicted serial killer serving time for killing prostitutes, including his own mother.”
Sally’s eyes were huge, like hockey pocks. “Oh my god! Are they coming to get him?”
“Yes, Sally, they are.”
Doctor Louis reached for his phone. “I’m notifying security, but whatever you do, don’t tip pimple butt off,” he warned them.
“While we’re waiting, do you want to interview another patient?” Rachel was worried she wouldn’t get off on time. They still had six patients to interview before her shift was over at four-thirty.
“No, not right now, let’s take care of pimple butt first,” he said. Security came on the line, and Doctor Louis demanded. “I need two officers on the unit right now…”
Rachel dropped her shoulders, disappointed to learn she will be leaving work late. She headed to the door, leaving the doctor to his phone call. “I’ll see you two later.” As she opened the door and walked out.
****
An hour later, six men about six feet and four inches tall dressed in black suits and wearing dark sunglasses swarmed into the admissions unit like a pack of bees. Unnervingly quiet, the men scoured the area searching for their prized prisoner. Nurses stood around, looking helpless with their mouths hanging open. Wondering who these men were in black suits and sunglasses. John Pimple Butt Lewis emerged from his room, walking down the hall. When he saw six FBI agents coming his way, he took off like a jack rabbit sprinting down the hall toward the exit. One agent saw him and yelled. “There he is!”
John hoofed down the hall like a man on speed. Up ahead, someone left the unit door ajar, and John, an award winning high school sprinter, knew he could make it out the door if he increased his speed. As soon as he quickened his pace, a black suit came out of nowhere and shoved his butt on the floor. John slid across the cold, laminated-tiled floor and slammed into a cement wall. His whole world went black, and a few minutes later, John woke up. He was bounded in handcuffs, looking at the floor, and his head and body ached. Blood trickled down his face as two FBI agents jerked him up and stood him on his feet. Red-faced with his forehead throbbing with pain, Bobby sneered at the two agents. They pinned his arms firmly against his back and shoved him forward down the hall. One agent shouted. “Walk, man, walk! I said walk!”
John trudged along with two agents dragging him toward the exit. The other four agents followed from behind. Staff stared at John with their mouths hung open while patients clapped, cheered, and whistled. Still sitting in Doctor Louis’s office, Sally heard the noise and rushed to the door. She swung it open and stood in the doorway with her mouth sag open. Shocked to see six FBI agents escorting John Pimple Butt Lewis down the hall. The unusual entourage took up the entire hallway as they passed through.”Oh, my god, they got him,” Sally gasped with one hand over her lips. And before she was able to blinked another eye, the FBI agents had carried John Pimple Butt Lewis out the door. As Always Thank you For Reading!
* Doctor Micheal Louis returned to work after being off ill for several weeks. Needless to say, he’s not having a good day. Enjoy.
The next day, it was Tuesday in December. A cold wind whistled violently from the North, and snow flurries swirled in the sky. Twigs, crumpled paper, and dead shrubs blew across the hospital’s parking lot. Doctor Michael Louis parked his black four-door Mercedes sixty yards from the hospital entrance. He wanted to protect his vehicle from unnecessary damage by coworkers parking their vehicles too close to his. He slapped the sun visor down to checked himself in the mirror. Gasping with horror, he noticed thin short hair sticking up from his dusky brown, ratty toupee. Vain to his detriment, Doctor Louis took excellent care smoothing his hair back in place. He smoothed out his thick mustache, giving extra attention to the little gray hairs on his deep crater face. Although Doctor Louis had been off work because of his recent heart attack, the doctor enjoyed spending time with his young wife, Sierra. But now he must face the crazy mayhem at Salter’s Point Regional, and he wasn’t thrilled about it, not one little bit.
Satisfied his hair looked decent, Doctor Louis shoved the sun visor back in place. He opened the door and stepped out of his Mercedes. The strong freezing wind slammed him against the vehicle, and it took all of his physical strength to shut the door too. Shivering, with his false teeth clicking like a soft ticking clock, the freezing wind ripped through his clothes straight to the bone. Doctor Louis buttoned his long black cashmere coat, and after he was done, he adjusted the fuzzy ear muffs on his ears. Then he headed out across the parking lot, the wind hurling his thick body this way and that. The wind blew off his ratty toupee, and it floated like a balloon over the parking lot. When the wind died down momentarily, the hairpiece dropped to the ground.
Frazzled and panicky, Doctor Louis took off and ran after his cherished hairpiece. Only to be outrun by a menacing big black crow. The crow swooped down like a big freight plane and snatched the ratty hairpiece off the ground. The crow flew to a nearby pine tree and settled on a broad branch. The crow dropped its prize possession in a nest of muddy twigs, and it laughed at the doctor with its annoying hoarse caw. Incensed, Doctor Louis scowled and shook his fist violently at the crow. “You damn, crazy bird! If I had my gun, I would shoot your ass out of that tree!”
The crow laughed again, twitching his head from side to side, cooing and cawing as it danced on the edge of its nest. Doctor Louis scoffed. “Oh, shut the hell up, you dense, crazy bird!”
Boiling inside, Doctor Louis returned to his Mercedes. The whistling, blistering wind knocked him around like a tennis ball. When he finally made it to his car and unlocked the door, he was exhausted. Breathing heavily with short, quick breaths, Doctor Louis opened the door and bent down. He stuck his head inside and a brisk wind slammed the car door against his backside. He fell in the driver’s seat, bumping his bald head on the steering wheel. Groaning with frustration, again he cursed.“Damn, I just can’t get a break! This sure is a shitty morning!”
Aching with pain and beside himself, Doctor Louis massaged his temple as he settled in his car seat. He shut the door and reached over to open his glove department. The doctor took out his black wool hat and pulled it over his pale bald head. Again he inhaled harshly as he opened his car door. “Okay, I’m going to try this again,” he angrily muttered to himself.
Doctor Louis got out of his Mercedes and locked the door. The wind seemed to died down, and Doctor Louis was relieved. He eagerly hiked with ease across the parking lot to the hospital entrance. Once he arrived, Doctor Louis tapped the sensor above the glass door. The door slid open, and he stomped inside. Scowling, he stomped across the lobby with his angry eyes peeled to the floor. He didn’t say a word to nobody, not even to Joyce who was sitting behind the reception counter. Wide-eyed, Joyce took offense to his bad behavior. “So, doctor, you’re not speaking this morning?” Joyce called out to him.
He kept walking, ignoring her enraging the receptionist even more. “Good Morning Doctor Louis! I said Good Morning!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Humph,” he grumbled dismissing her with a wave. Joyce dropped her shoulders and sighed, “The grumpy old colonel is back. It’s going to be a long, stressful day.”
Doctor Louis maintain his brisk pace until he arrived at the mailroom. He went inside, and found his box overflowing with weeks of messages. Frowning, Doctor Louis stuffed the notes inside his briefcase. He stomped out of the mailroom, slamming the door behind him. Once he arrived to his office, he stood in the hall fiddling with his keys. Rachel heard him in the hallway. She left her desk and opened her office door. She stood in the doorway smiling at the frustrated doctor. “Good Morning, Doctor Louis, you’re here, glad to see you!”
Refusing to look her way, Doctor Louis hurriedly unlocked his office door, and growled at her. “What’s so damn good about this shitty morning?” With that said, he shoved the door open, and went inside. He slammed the door so hard, the frame shook. She flinched violently with her mouth gaped open. She feared the screws on the door’s hinges were going to pop out. “Geez, what a freaking grouch! I hope he’s not going to be like this for the rest of the day! Lord, Jesus help me!” she pleaded. Hope you enjoyed this little excerpt. Happy New Year Everybody!
The town residents packed in the courthouse early Monday morning. It was the last day in November, and Christmas was around the corner. Elderly women dressed like elves busily decorated the courthouse lobby. Bright red poinsettias were placed in every corner of the hall. Black and white angels and snowmen figurines were set on tables. A nativity scene of Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus was constructed on the stage. Men with bulging muscles carried an twenty-foot evergreen tree into the lobby. After they strung it up and stabilized it in the center of the floor, men with ladders ran over to the massive tree. They carefully erected the ladders on the tree, and with Christmas lights in hand, they climbed up the ladders and strung them around the tree’s thick branches.
Loudspeakers belted out an orchestra playing Joy To The World in the background. People bundled up in wool scarfs, coats, and hats continued to pack the courthouse. They scurried around in various directions like big mice, looking for their assigned destinations. A frantic woman wearing a tiara on her long, curly brown hair, sprinted across the lobby in her wedding dress. Crying and throwing a fit in a nearby corner, a little boy about the age of four screamed like a hyena. Calm, his mother stooped down to his level, hugging on him. She covered his cheeks with kisses, and the little boy stopped crying. He giggled as his mother tickled his stomach. Then she picked him up and went on her way.
Sitting on the second floor in front of courthouse numbered five, Doctor Beebe and James Cole waited for the judge to approve and sign the warrant. At first, Doctor Beebe was reluctant to file kidnapping charges against his old friend and colleague, Doctor Benny. After an intense discussion with James Cole, he became convinced it was the right decision. Looking haggard with dark circles around his eyes, Doctor Beebe stayed awake all night, unable to sleep, anxious about his visit to the courthouse. With his mind made up, but still deeply troubled, he pondered when it would be the best time to fire Doctor Benny. The medical director knew his timing was everything. He needed to be as strategic as possible.
Finally, around noon, the clerk emerged from the courtroom. Short and dumpy, the woman’s straight, stringy hair was parted in the middle, and her bright light blue eyes were intense. Wearing an outdated black pantsuit with spiked red heels, the clerk strutted over to the two men carrying a sheet of paper. Her lips parted into a sardonic grin. “The arrest warrant has been signed.” She gave Doctor Beebe his copy, and she lingered for a moment, waiting for questions. Doctor Beebe found her frozen smile off-putting. He shifted in his chair, straightening up.
“Do you know when he will be arrested?” he asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” she answered.
“Why not now? He could leave town by this time tomorrow morning,” he told her. Doctor Beebe looked annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” said the clerk. “But that’s the best the court can do.” She turned her short, dumpy self around and slipped into the courtroom. Doctor Beebe rolled up his copy of the arrest warrant and stuck it in his coat pocket. “I’ll be glad when this is over. This whole situation has been quite taxing!”
“I know, old buddy. It will be over soon.” James slapped his hat on his head and rose to his feet. “How you plan to break the news to your staff?”
“Slowly but carefully,” Doctor Beebe half-heartedly joked.
James laughed. Then he turned serious. “But really, have you thought about it?”
“Yep, it’s been on my mind constantly. It’s such a delicate situation.”
“My friend, you don’t have a lot of time left. Once the media gets a hold of this, you’re going be peppered with tons of questions.”
Doctor Beebe let out a harsh sigh. “I know, man, I know. You can’t go to a gun fight with a hammer! I will tell the staff when it’s appropriate.”
Feeling sorry for his old friend, James offered a suggestion. “Let’s head to Sully’s for a drink. You could use a break.”
“Good idea,” Doctor Beebe grinned. “I’ll meet you there.”
James waved and headed down the hall. “See you in a few.”
Note: The Story Below Is Loosely Based On The Book of Luke
The heavens in the night sky glowed in streaks of red and gold. It was the middle of summer and the land in Galilee was hot and dry. Out of nowhere in the universe, a white dove burst out of a bright star. The dove soared like a rocket to the dark earth below. It rose over snow-capped mountains, dips of valleys, deserts, and wheat fields. The strong wind propelled the bird over the Dead Sea. As the town of Nazareth came into view, the bird swooped down and flew its way into an open-walled courtyard. It landed on a flat roof of a modest stone hut. The hut had a wood ladder extending to the earth floor, and on the other end of the yard, three sheep grazed quietly from a wheat clay trough. Wild chickens ran hither and yon on the earth floor, looking confused. They seemed to have trouble deciding where to settle in for the night.
The dove waddled to the window sill and peered inside the hut. An oil lamp sitting on a wood table gave the hut some soft light. And in a corner, curled up on a woven reed pallet on the floor, fast asleep was a petite young woman with olive skin and long, thick black braids. Her name was Mary, and she was exhausted from a full day’s work. She had worked from dawn to dusk, minding the sheep, washing clothes, and sweeping the courtyard. Single with no children, Mary was to marry Joseph, a descendant of King David, in the next few days. Although she hardly knew Joseph, she liked him, and she looked forward to her upcoming marriage.
The dove turned into a fiery shimmering light, and when the light faded momentarily, a colossal-looking angel appeared in its place. The angel stood ten feet tall, and its magnificent bronze skin and wings shone like the sun. The angel’s presence woke Mary from a deep slumber, forcing her to sit straight up. Mary stared at the bright shining image with big dark brown eyes. She rubbed her eyes once, twice, three times trying hard to comprehend the beautiful creature standing before her. Mary stuttered with fear, barely getting out the words. “Who?…Who?…Who are you, my Lord?”
The angel roared with a loud voice.“ Greetings, you are highly favored! The Lord is with you!”
Mary trembled and she was deeply troubled. She grabbed her shawl and flung it around her shoulders. Unable to speak with her lips sealed tight, Mary sat in a frozen state on her pallet. Sensing Mary’s fear, the angel offered comforting words. “Mary, Do Not Be afraid, You have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most Highest. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”
Mary looked confused. Surely this couldn’t be so. I’m still a virgin, and besides, I’m not married! To make sure Mary heard the angel correctly, she bravely asked the angel a pointed question. “How could this be? I’m still a virgin.”
The angel’s eyes burned with fire as he answered Mary’s question. “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most Highest will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God, for nothing is impossible with God!”
Mary fell face down on her pallet. In awe over the angel’s words. “I’m the Lord’s servant,” she whispered. “May it be me as you have said.” Darkness fell over the room, and when Mary looked up, the angel was gone.
The next day, Mary, still recovering from the angel’s visit, could no longer hold her joy. She had to share her happiness with someone, so she packed a lunch and walked to the next town, a hilly area in the land of Judea. Elizabeth and Zechariah lived there, and Mary and Elizabeth were best friends. It took all day to get there, and Mary was exhausted and sweaty. Mary tapped on the stone door, and it swung open. Elizabeth stood in the dirt doorway with a wide smile. “Mary, you came such a long way! Why?” she asked with out-stretched arms.
“I’ve joy in my heart, and I must share it with you!”
“Come to me, my child.” Elizabeth grabbed Mary and hugged her. She was up in age, and her long silver-gray hair hung down to her waist. Her warm sea-green eyes adorned her wrinkled olive face, and a protruding stomach weighed down her petite, frail figure. Mary wondered if she was ill.”What’s wrong with your stomach? Are you sick?”
Elizabeth laughed out loud. “No child, I’m not sick. All of these years, my womb was barren, the Lord God finally saw fit to blessed me with a child!”
Mary slapped her hands over her mouth in awe. “Oh, my goodness, what a miracle! I, too, have exciting news! Last night, the Lord’s angel came to me. He told me I’m to give birth to the Son of God!”
When Elizabeth heard this, she felt the baby in her womb leaped for joy. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Elizabeth shouted. “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! The baby in my womb leaps for joy at the sound of your news! Blessed you for believing that what the Lord has said will be accomplished!” The two women fell on their knees and pray. After a day or two, Mary returned home to Nazareth.
****
Nine months later, in March, Caesar Augustus, a Roman tyrant, issued a decree for a census be taken over the entire Roman empire. Caesar ordered everyone to register at the town where they were born. By this time, Mary and Joseph were married, and she was with child. Her time to deliver grew near, and her back ached from the weight of her stomach. When Joseph heard the news about the census, he hurried home and told Mary. “We must leave at once. We’ve to go to Bethlehem!”
“Why?” Mary answered as she gently rubbed her stomach.
“Caesar is demanding a census of each town. Everyone must register in the town they are from. We have to go!” Joseph belonged to the house and line of David, who originated from the town of Bethlehem. He was a slight man with thick curly black hair and dark brown eyes. He stood five feet and ten inches tall, and his skin was copper brown from the sun.
“I see, when do we leave?” Mary incredulously asked.
“At dawn, the journey is long,” Joseph replied. The next morning, before dawn. Mary got up, dressed, and packed food in a burlap bag for their long journey to Bethlehem. Joseph tied the packet on the donkey and adjusted the animal’s bridle on its face. He held on to Mary as she climbed on the donkey’s back. Once she was settled comfortably on the donkey, Joseph grabbed his wood staff. He wrapped one hand around the donkey’s bridle strap and headed out.
The air was crisp and dry. Stars twinkled brightly in the dark sky. The journey was long and exhausting, and by mid-day, they finally arrived in Bethlehem. After Joseph registered himself and Mary at the Registrar’s office, Mary went into labor, and she moaned with pain. “I need a place to rest. The baby will be here soon,” she warned Joseph with tear-filled eyes.
“Yes, dear, I know,” he calmly replied. But deep inside, Joseph was worried. Mary’s contractions were now five minutes apart. He needed to find a place for the baby to be born. For hours, they searched for shelter, stopping at several places, and being told by every innkeeper that there was no room. Frustrated, Joseph was about to give up, and then Mary said. “Tried that place over there,” she said, pointing to an inn with a manger made of sticks and clay.
Joseph shook his head and sighed heavily. “They’re going to say no, I just know it.”
“Have faith, just go and ask,” Mary groaned as another contraction ripped through her abdomen.
“All right.” Joseph tied the donkey to the post and went to the door. He knocked three times, and the innkeeper answered. The innkeeper stood in the doorway, looking scruffy with his white beard knotted like moss on his face. He was bald with white hair growing around his temples. The innkeeper’s laughing, light brown eyes were wide with intrigue. “Son, what brings you here this evening? It’s late.”
“I’m looking for a place for the night for my wife and me,” Joseph said. The innkeeper stretched his neck to checked out Mary. When he realized she was with child, the innkeeper wanted to help. “There are no rooms in my inn, but you and your wife can stay in my manger. I’ll get you some towels to lie on.”
Joseph pressed his hands together and bowed repeatedly. “Thank you, sir, bless you!”
While the innkeeper went back inside to retrieve some towels, excited and relieved, Joseph ran straight to Mary. “The innkeeper is going to let us stay in his manger! He’s getting us some towels to lie on.”
Mary drifted her eyes heavenward and whispered. “Thank you, Lord for looking after us.”
A few minutes later, the innkeeper came out of the inn and waved at Joseph and Mary. “Follow me,” he hollered. Joseph helped Mary off the donkey and flung his arm around her waist. Unsteady on her feet because of her labor pain, Joseph carefully guided Mary to the manger. Once they were inside, they soon discovered they wouldn’t be alone. Two cows, three sheep, two swine, and a few fowl also had sheltered there. The innkeeper immediately apologized as he handed Joseph the towels. “I’m sorry for the lowly accommodations, but this is the best I can do for now.”
“We’re grateful,” Joseph smiled.
“Good, I leave you to settled in.” The innkeeper left, leaving Mary and Joseph to themselves. Joseph grabbed a bale of hay and made a makeshift bed. After he arranged the towels on the hay bed, Mary laid down. The contractions came more forcibly as time progressed, and by midnight, Mary had given birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in clean towels and placed him next to her on a makeshift hay bed. Mary and Joseph rejoiced, praising God, amazed and thankful that God had chosen them for Jesus’ earthly parents.
Down the road, a few miles from Bethlehem, shepherds stood shivering in a wheat field. They were keeping an eye on their sheep to protect them from predators. They covered their heads with part of their shawls then wrapped the remaining material snugged around their bodies. The temperature had dropped, and the cold night air ripped through them like a sharp knife. The only light in the sky was a massive bright star. As they meandered among their flock trying to keep warm, a colossal-looking angel appeared in their midst out of nowhere. The glory of the Lord shone around them, and the shepherds hid their faces, terrified. The angel said to them. “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord, this will be a sign to you: You will find him a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Suddenly more angels appeared with the head angel, and they praised God with loud voices. “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom favor rests!”
Then the angels flew off into the heavens, leaving them alone. Except for the bright star shining in the sky, it was pitch dark. The shepherds said to one another. “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”
So they hurried down the road to Bethlehem, and an hour later, they found Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus lying in the manger. The glory of God shone brightly around them, and the shepherds fell to their knees, worshipping God. After they laid eyes on the Christ Baby, they took off spreading the news to everyone they met. All who heard the shepherds’ fantastic story, they too, praised and glorified God. Jesus’ birth was so long ago but it changed the world forever. Have A Joyful Holiday And Merry Christmas To Everyone!
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