Off Our Rockers: A Tale of Two Grannies

OFF OUR ROCKERS

A Tale of Two Grannies

Written by Janis Rose

Published by John Northern at Smashwords

Edited by John Northern

Copyright 2011 by John Northern

Off Our Rockers

A Tale of Two Grannies

PREFACE

by John Northern

This non-fiction book is considered a historical event. It depicts the journey of two senior citizens as they walked thousands of miles, rode some of the time, hitchhiked some of the time, and bused whenever necessary. They slept under the sky in varying weather conditions—sweltering heat, below freezing temperatures, tornadoes, hurricanes, incessant rain, hail, snow, and good weather, too. It was their intention to walk around the United States to show seniors that life doesn't have to end as the twilight years approach. It was their purpose to explain nutrition and exercise to seniors, so they might improve their diets and feel healthier.

The story of these two ladies is considered a story of two pioneers. In the 1980's, during the time of fast transportation, very few had ever walked around the United States, and certainly no senior citizens. I'm sure that even now no senior citizens have walked around the U.S.

In 1983, their send off from Hoover Dam was one filled with excitement as reporters and news media personnel showed up in droves, along with Nevada politicians. The entire way, across the United States and back, they were being interviewed by reporters, radio shows, and TV networks. But their biggest crown of accomplishment, while wearing their backpacks and hiking clothes, was their interview in the Oval Office with President Ronald Reagan. Now, their message to the seniors would have even more of an impact—long after their journey has ended.

It's unfortunate that eBooks were still in the future when they finished their journey, and when Jan Rose finished writing this book. If you know the world of agents and publishers, then it's unnecessary to comment on how she tried to get this book published. It's also unfortunate that she died last year, at the age of 87, before seeing her book published and before the era of the eReader.

If spirits can look down from Heaven, then I hope she will get a little bit of joy when she sees her book in eFormat form—and going out to people who are interested in the journey of the two grannies from Las Vegas.

And so begins the story as told by my mother.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Jan and Louise starting out

CHAPTER ONE

Prepare for the Worst

I'm quite surprised. And I'm wondering why you old ladies are out here in the middle of the desert. It looks like you're backpacking. The hitchhiker stared at us. I'm sure you're not crazy. He gave us a questioning look.

I was beginning to wonder myself.

As he continued to look at us, I started thinking how it had happened so quickly. We had left our families, friends, and jobs (good jobs)—the normal way of life; and were trudging the desert highways of Arizona, sunburned and weary, toting heavy packs on our backs, sweat dripping from our sun-burned noses.

Why are we out here? I asked myself, and I wondered how Louise, my walking partner, would answer this long-haired kid who questioned our sanity.

It had started as a fantasy; one I'd had since before World War II, to ride a bike or walk around the United States. But there was little leisure time in those days with booming defense plants, bond rallies, the U.S.O., black-outs and rationing. And then I met the 'off to war hero,' then marriage and babies and the end of my walking dreams.

One day, a lifetime later, I remembered my aspirations of the 1940's. Was I too old? Should I try it?

That night I casually mentioned it to Louise who showed little enthusiasm until the conversation turned to senior citizens. I had found her weak spot.

We can visit senior centers everywhere, lecture on diet and vitamins, and even demonstrate a few exercises. It might encourage some seniors to get out of their easy chairs.

Would we have to climb mountains? she had asked, hesitantly. I've never hiked or climbed.

Had Louise foreseen the mountain range that was soon to face us in Arizona, her answer would have been a definite no. She was a flatlander from Florida and had never seen a mountain until she headed west.

No problem, I assured her. We'll be in top shape before leaving home. We can workout everyday, and go camping and hiking—you know, really get into shape. I don't anticipate any problems, at all, I stated, confidently. Little did I realize how ironic these words would become.

Louise, at age fifty-seven, was a cage cashier at the MGM Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip—an exciting job, rubbing elbows with movie stars, entertainers, and millionaires from all over America. I had been a pit boss, a black jack dealer and a roulette dealer in the Las Vegas, Reno, and Boulder City since 1946. On reaching my sixtieth birthday I decided to give the roulette wheels and twenty-one tables to the young girls, and to seek a more dignified position—one that matched my greying hair and the little wrinkles that were cropping out around my eyes.

So, I went to work for the state of Nevada.

As a job interviewer for the Nevada State Employment Office I had met many older people, and had listened to their stories of being mistreated, ignored, or replaced at their places of employment by younger people. Hence came the idea to make this walk for the benefit of America's Senior Citizens.

CHAPTER TWO

THE TREK BEGINS

Our journey began on the Nevada-Arizona state line on a rainy looking day in October. Climbing that red mountain out of Hoover Dam was tough—a steep, zigzag road. Half way up I knew my pack would have to be lightened. And as I stumbled along thinking of what I could throw away, Louise reminded me that Joni (my younger daughter, a Chiropractor), was driving out from Vegas to check up on our first day on the road. She had set up our exercise program and had whipped us into shape for this trip. At least, she had tried.

Thank God she's coming, Louise sighed. I'm sending home half the things in my backpack."

It sounded like a good idea, but at that moment there was something else on my mind. Louise, I don't know what's wrong with me. I was so weak down there on the dam, I couldn't lift my pack. I had to have help. It was embarrassing.

I hope you're not getting sick.

Be serious. I never get sick. Anyway I feel okay, now. It must have been the excitement.

Remember we were exposed to hepatitis a couple of weeks ago?

Yeah, but we didn't get it.

Let's hope we didn't get it.

Onward and upward we climbed . . . red dirt clinging to blue jeans. Weary, hot and thirsty, we waved good-bye to reporters and cameramen. As the last van made a U turn, and the newsmen waved good-bye, we were looking for the nearest rock to fall on. Water, water, I yelled, and hoisted my bota bag.

Louise groaned as she dropped her water bags, backpack, and then her body onto the desert floor. I perched on a big rock and watched as she pulled off her boots and socks.

Hey, Weeze, we're not making camp, you know. We've only walked four or five miles. What's with the boots off?

Look, she moaned, and turned her feet toward me.

My hair did a fast Little Orphan Annie as I stared at her feet. Raw, runny blisters had crawled out from under Band-Aids, up between her toes, and blood was oozing from the blisters.

Oh my God, Louise, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me?

How could she continue to walk? Was our journey to end at the beginning? Or should she go home with Joni, and I go on alone?

Louise, you can't walk with your feet in that condition.

Jan, I am going to walk on these feet, she said as she delved into the first aid kit. I watched as she applied moleskin over the open blisters, and I grimaced as she pulled on socks and boots.

The trip is ruined, I told myself. We should turn back, now.

Louise, don't you think we should postpone this walk? You're feet could take weeks to heal. Let's wait here for Joni, and go home with her.

I'm going on, she said, and limped back to the highway.

On we trudged in the heat,—the desert an ocean of dry, shimmering sand.. Occasional rest stops, drinks from our water bags, and then on again to do battle with Old Sol, who could show no mercy for two old ladies invading the territory.

The little white mile markers had ticked off seventeen miles from Hoover Dam when Louise finally suggested we make camp. I was relieved. I couldn't forget her blistered feet. Suits me, I said, and dropped my gear fast before she could change her mind.

Dirty and sweaty and too tired to care, we plopped down, kicked off our heavy walking boots and stretched out on the ground. Who cared if the ants had gotten there first.

We had jokingly called the day we left home B.O. day for Blast Off and Body Odor. And boy did we stink.

Six P.M. found us sitting on air mattresses beside a pile of discarded 'bare necessities', as we waited for Joni.

She soon arrived, freshly bathed and looking like Miss America. Hey, where's the food, she shouted. You invited me to dinner, you know.

Then she stared at us in disbelief and said we looked like something the coyotes had dragged in and refused to eat. Compassion please, Dr. Rose, Louise groaned, and then added that if we waited for her to cook, we would all starve.

And I hope you brought water, Louise added. I just used the last of mine for a spit bath.

As the sun dropped suddenly behind a red mountain and the cooling night air invaded our camp, we listened to Joni's lecture. Remember, you must take care of each other, watch closely for stress—pallor, glassy looking eyes, and drowsiness. We've been over this a dozen times, and I want you to remember. At the first sign of stress find a place to rest. And let your bodies dictate how far you walk. There's no hurry. You aren't trying to make or break any records. Take it easy, so it will be a safe and fun trip.

By the way, Joni added, don't expect much sympathy from me tonight. We all know you didn't do half the things you were supposed to do when I wasn't around to crack the whip.

Ah, youth. So cold and heartless, I mocked.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Joni suggested we get our beds made while it was still light enough to see. I might be convinced to work on those emaciated bodies, if you hurry.

Our camp was on a roadside pull-off—a cleared area on a small knoll. After massages and chiropractic adjustments, we burrowed down into our sleeping bags and said a prayer of thanks. As my eyes drooped shut, I forced them open to take one last look, over head, at the black sky.

Suddenly, from the darkness, tires squealed and skidded off the highway. Two blinding lights, brilliant in the black desert night, glared in our faces.

My God! It's the cops, Louise whispered.

Joni, hide your gun, quick. You don't have a permit for it. I was scared. If it wasn't the cops, who was it?

The three of us sat up, huddled together, waiting.

A man emerged from the automobile and stepped into the path of light. As I reached for the gun I felt Joni's fingers tighten on the handle. My heart was pounding so loud I was sure the intruder could hear it. I looked at Louise. She was frozen in position, not even her eyelids moved.

Well, I'll be damned. It is you, the shadow said. What in the hell do you women think you're doing? I'm supposed to be the crazy one in this family.

Jim? I questioned.

Yep, your ever-loving ex.

I could barely see the figure outlined by the car lights, but the voice was unmistakable. It was Jim Rose, my ex-husband and the father of my children. We had been divorced since 1962, and I had seen him just three or four times during my twenty year marriage to Joe Tomlinson. It was after Joe died that I decided to use Rose for my last name again. It was my children's name and much simpler than Tomlinson, which no one could pronounce or spell. Jim, you idiot, I greeted him. Turn off those lights. They're blinding us. What in the heck are you doing out here? Jim had been out of town and had arrived back in Las Vegas just in time to see our faces on the evening news.

I went over to the Horseshoe, he said, had a couple of VO Sevens and decided to come find you and see if you had lost your marbles. I always thought you had a good head on your shoulders, Mama. He patted my shoulder consolingly. Now I can see how wrong I've been all these years.

This is crazy, I told him. You're the guy who never has time to visit anyone, but here you are out in the desert in the middle of the night looking for us.

Louise sighed, Okay, you two, round one is over. Nice to see you again, Jim.

Why don't you spend the night with us, Dad? Joni asked. We can make room for you. She hurriedly put Joe's twenty-two pistol in her car and once again, we settled down to sleep. It hadn't taken Jim long to accept Joni's invitation, nor to start snoring in my ear. Just like old times I thought—those VO Seven's are just like a baby's bedtime bottle.

So ended the first day of the tough and rigorous journey that lay ahead.



Dawn caught Louise and me busy packing to hit the trail. Joni and Jim had driven ahead to find a coffee-shop and soon returned with hot coffee and orange juice, and the news that the cafe was only ten miles ahead.

Great, Louise said, We can be there for lunch.

Then came the last farewell. When we had waved good-bye at the dam, in all the excitement, I hadn't realized it could be years before seeing our children again—no family gatherings at Christmas, no Thanksgiving turkeys, no Easter egg hunts, no birthday parties or telephones ringing. And my grandchildren—little boys just one, two and three years old—little Jake, JC, and Joshua; would they forget their grandma?

As we stood on the highway waving good-bye, I wondered if Louise had these same thoughts. The answer was written on her face. She turned from me and said, a trifle overconfidently, Let's get started. That ten miles will be a snap.

So we thought. But that hot, yellow sun which we had faced all morning was now directly overhead, and we had traveled only a few miles. It was obvious that we couldn't make it to the cafe for lunch.

We may as well eat here, Louise sighed. My blisters need a rest.

We ate, we rested, and only through stubborn determination did we hoist our packs and once again start plodding down the endless black-top.

As the hours passed, we found ourselves more on our butts than our boots. Sundown came and went. The light was gone, and we continued on. We trudged, for what seemed an eternity before we saw the cafe lights. They were like beacons in the night beckoning us to walk faster. I quickened my pace, anxious for the haven that I knew was waiting.

Jan, I can't make it.

But, Louise,. . . .

I can't help it, she snapped. I'm staying right here. You go on. She dropped her backpack and followed it to the sand.

I couldn't believe this. It was such a short distance now to civilization—to water, food, and chairs to sit on with no ants crawling on us. We couldn't stop now. Then a picture of her feet flashed into my mind. Those raw and bloody toes, and her limping on them.

I flinched. Will you be okay alone? I could think of a dozen things that could happen to her out on this desert by herself.

Go she murmured from a prone position in the sand. I'll be fine. Just bring water.

I'll hurry, I promised. It can't be more than a half mile. You stay right here. Don't go wandering around in this desert.

It had taken us eleven hours to cover that ten miles. I was chagrined at my lack of stamina. I, who for years had climbed mountains in southern Nevada, midsummer, who swam, bowled and bicycled regularly. What was wrong with me? And Louise? Had I overestimated our ability, our preparedness? Would we have to sneak back to Vegas and hide shamed faces?

I stumbled along in the dark, dragging my heavy boots. The distance grew shorter to the lights. I could read the sign on the side of the building: Bauer's Oasis, Fly Grand Canyon, $69.00 round trip. I remembered when my daughters and I had flown to Europe, and I wished I were in a plane right now. For just $69.00 we could be flying—maybe not to Europe, but at least we would be flying. I sighed, but I kept on walking, my eyes on the lights ahead.

That little cafe was correctly named. It certainly was an oasis to a weary backpacker. I ordered two large cokes, filled my water bag, and turned to leave when someone beside me said, Hello, there. Remember me? My friend Dave and I talked to you this morning on our way to Vegas. My name's Randy. I work here. Where's your friend?

She's waiting outside for this coke, and I'd better get it to her before she dehydrates. Might see you later, Randy. I had no time for idle conversation.

Evidently the boys had been to Las Vegas and back while we were struggling to make the few miles to the cafe.

I hurried down the black road expecting to find Louise on her backside, but seeing a vague figure approaching, I knew it was her. Nobody else would be out here alone in this black wilderness.

Together we trudged the road back to Oasis to rest awhile before searching out a place to pitch our tent.

CHAPTER THREE

RANDY

Nice backpacks. Kinda heavy, aren't they?

Randy sat down next to us in the dining room and peppered us with questions. Then he said he and his friend Dave had hitchhiked from New Mexico on their way to California. They had stopped here for a cold beer two months ago and were still here. Randy was doing the sign work that had welcomed me, and Dave had been hired as cook's helper.

When Randy learned that we planned to sleep out, he flatly stated that we couldn't sleep out here. It's not safe, he said. This place was built on an old coyote trail and the coyotes still claim it.

But we have a tent, Louise assured him.

Won't help you if those wild animals get hungry. Our boss gave us a little old trailer after Dave got bit. We were sleeping out back of here and a dang coyote bit him on the toe and his mate licked me on my cheek. That's why we had to go to Vegas today, to get Dave another rabies shot. He pointed to the rear of the cafe. You can sleep in our trailer on the kitchen floor. It's not much to offer but at least you'll be safe. He stood up. Too far to walk back there in the dark. I'll go wind up the old fork lift and drive you to the Sun Hut. That's what we call our little home sweet home.

Before we could finish our cokes, he was waiting to deliver us to his 'Sun Hut. 'We climbed aboard the fork lift, and as we rode along Randy informed us that we were in a construction camp. He pointed out the showers and restrooms and said we were welcome to use them. I wondered how many young men of today would be as considerate and concerned over two dirty, smelly old ladies. Before the end of our long journey I learned that young people were more concerned and caring than many of the senior citizens.

Our plans were to awaken early, shower and shampoo, breakfast in the cafe, and then start the next lap of our journey into Kingman.

I set my mental alarm for five a.m., expecting to jump out of bed as usual and jog to the shower. My built-in alarm awakened me on time, but I soon realized I could barely move. Slowly, I turned on my knees and pulled myself up, hanging on to the kitchen table. My feet and ankles were swollen. My arches felt like they were cracking in half and pains were shooting through the tops of my feet. Every muscle I owned was tied in knots.

I sank back into my sleeping bag, hoping for oblivion. And then I heard a groan from Louise. Jan. I can hardly move. My muscles are so sore.

Well, don't try standing, I advised her, It's not worth the effort.

Maybe we should try a few exercises to loosen up, she croaked. Remember the slow stretches that Joni taught us?

I don't want to remember anything right now.

Well, we can't stay here all day, so we had better get motivated. And don't wake up the boys. They came in late.

Slowly we packed up and made our way to the showers.

I was definitely slow getting into the shower, but even slower getting out. That hot water pouring down on my weary body was putting life back into its protesting cells. As my muscles started relaxing, I had hopes they might even work again.

Hey, Jan, Louise called, are you going stay in there all day? I'm half dressed and as hungry as one of those 'dang coyotes.' Hustle your bustle, kid.

Look who's talking', I answered. You couldn't even make it into Oasis with me last night. Did I yell at you?

We stalled over breakfast, not anxious to start out on our damaged feet and sore legs. The sun had already started its Westward travels.

Let's try it, one of us said.

You first, answered the other.

We made it up from the table, helped each other lift our backpacks and hesitantly stepped outside.

Hi, ladies. Glad I found you. There's a bad storm coming, so you better hole up here another night. It was Randy, coming around the corner of the building.

There were only a few big clouds overhead—not enough to make me believe there would be a storm, but Randy was adamant, and considering how I felt it wasn't too hard to convince me. He continued with his unnecessary persuasion. You may as well go back to the Sun Hut and relax 'because you're not leaving. I wouldn't be able to sleep from worrying about you.

It's not going to rain today, I informed Louise as we limped back to the trailer, but we're not punching a time clock, and we can use a day of rest.

Down on the kitchen floor went our sleeping bags and with a pile of old magazines, we settled down for a day of reading, relaxing, and recuperating.

Our boots had barely settled on the floor when there was a tap on the door, and Randy's head popped in. Say, ladies, Don the cook, is driving into Kingman, and I thought you might like to ride in with him. He'll only be in town about an hour,—should be back here before noon. How about it, do you want to go?

I think it's a good idea, Louise said. These boots are killing me. I would like to buy a pair of moccasins.

Yeah, I agreed, "and we can see what's ahead—maybe spot some good water holes.

Louise sat between Don and me, and chatted happily as we rode along in his big, white pickup. She's the talker—she loves people and making conversation, but I had a sneaky hunch that the real reason for her extra cheery attitude was that we were riding—not walking on that blistering hot tar road.

While she was chatting I watched the country side and took notes on the terrain: places to obtain water, good camping spots, and also noted the mileage between businesses, few as they were. Lonely looking desert out here, I thought. Miles of nothing.

You can drop us off right here, Louise told Don as we entered Kingman's downtown area. And we'll be waiting here at eleven. Thanks for bringing us in, she added.

An hour later we were running for the meeting place, Louise clutching her moccasins, and I with a present for Randy and Dave.

Back at Oasis as we entered Randy's little trailer I wisely remarked to Louise, I told you it wouldn't rain.

CHAPTER FOUR

HOLOCAUST

Once again, flopped out on the floor, boots under heads, and a pile of old magazines between us, I couldn't decide if I wanted to read or snooze.

Sure nice having a roof over our heads. Louise sighed contentedly as she riffled the leaves of an old Saturday Evening Post.

Yeah and all because that coyote bit Dave on the toe. What are you laughing about? I asked when Louise suddenly guffawed. There's nothing funny about that.

I was just thinking how silly Dave must have looked with his toe in that coyote's mouth.

I had just started to join her in laughter when suddenly the peace of our afternoon was shattered. The little wooden trailer started shaking and rolling as if a giant earth worm had crawled underneath and was rearing his long body up and down.

Earthquake! Louise yelled as she grabbed wildly at the table leg.

The trailer settled back for an instant and then heaved a mighty sigh and was swaying and rocking. Suddenly something hit the front wall, shattering a window pane, and glass was flying everywhere. Louise jumped up and pulled the curtains aside. Wind blasted her in the face and a chunk of glass hit my leg. I screamed. Looking out the window from behind Louise, I saw sagebrush and huge hunks of cactus go flying past.

Randy's storm had arrived.

Louise grabbed her money sock and yelled, Let's get out of here before this thing turns over. We could be killed.

We'll be blown away out there, I screamed back.

Yeah, you're probably right, she shouted. She grabbed both sleeping bags and threw them in the corner. Over here, she yelled. We flopped down with our backs against the wall. There was nothing for us to do but sit on those bouncing floor boards and pray.

We'll have to ride her out, she yelled in my ear. Thank God Randy insisted we stay here.

I silently agreed. If not for Randy's stubborn insistence, we might now be floating down the Colorado River—half alive or even dead.

On through the night the storm raged as we sat huddled together in the corner while the trailer continued rocking, banging, and shaking, and lightning flashed and thunder crashed all around us. I thought of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she and her house were whirled high in the air, out of the state of Kansas.

I doubt if these four walls can hold together much longer, Louise yelled in my ear.

If the wind doesn't blow us away, the lightning will probably burn down the trailer, I screeched at her.

You really know how to make a gal feel good.

I, too, couldn't see how this little board building could hang together much longer; but daylight arrived bringing with it a silence that could be heard all over the desert. We stood looking out of the broken window. The sun was just peeking over the top edge of the colorful distant mountains. Red and yellow streaks were flashing into the still, grey sky.

In the night's wee hours, during a slight lull in the storm, the trailer door was flung open, and the boys dashed for their bedroom. From the snores coming through the thin walls, we knew they were still sleeping.

I pulled on my heavy boots and climbed to my feet.

Shhhhh, Louise cautioned. Don't wake the boys. They haven't had much sleep.

CHAPTER FIVE

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

After a day and two nights off our feet, our condition had greatly improved. My ankle bones were almost visible again. With new moleskin on Louise's feet and a note of thanks on the table for Dave and Randy, we quietly left our refuge and headed down that long, lonesome road toward Kingman.

Kingman, Arizona, don't forget Winona—Route 66. Words from the Andrews Sisters' old song filled my thoughts, and I hummed along with them as we walked their old highway. At least part of the old road was under our boots. The big, new freeway had claimed a lot of it.

How many other boots have trod this road, I mused? Did their owners ponder the world of walkers versus the world of riders? I had been a rider here many times, but was now amazed at what I had missed: little field mice playing hide-n-seek in the sagebrush; lizards frozen in stillness staring at us, one-eyed; white fluffs as Cotton-tail rabbits dived into the open doorways of their earthen homes, and a myriad of rocks, the colorful gems of the desert.

If not for the puddles of water and the mud that lined both sides of the highway, one could never imagine the ferocity of the storm that had so recently passed through. The blue and cloudless sky was tinted by a huge sun, and the air smelled of the freshness that follows a cleanse. It was a great day on the desert for walking.

We traveled ten miles before lunch, and then another five, an easy walk compared to the trek into Oasis. As we neared a sign that announced a dirt road turnoff, we sighted what looked like a good camping place and, after investigating, we dropped our gear to the muddy earth. Sleeping bags were carefully spread atop ground cloths. We had no trouble leveling our six-inch stove. Louise squished its legs into the mud between our beds. Hot soup from our Lipton's package was soon bubbling in our tin cups.

Daylight found us once again trodding along 'Old 66.' A few hours later we spied Santa Claus, which brags of one building. As we hurried along, thirsty and hot, and out of water, we were happy to see the cafe in the distance.

As we reached the cafe's entrance I recalled the last time I had been here. And I thought back.

Joni and I were on our way to Phoenix, and we had stopped here to get something to eat. We parked the car, and started walking toward the building, when suddenly a feeling of eeriness came over me.

Weird little cement men with evil looking eyes were standing guard all around the building, and when we stepped inside we were greeted by a life-sized, cardboard warlock. His green eyes were staring a hole in me. He stood amidst large, black-clad witches. A gigantic black spider, high on the wall, was surrounded by hex signs. Smaller witches on broomsticks were flying around the spider.

Joni looked at me, round eyed, and was just about to say something, when our hostess appeared.

That warlock had piercing eyes, but this lady's were colder than ice cubes. I stood there staring, waiting for her to melt me into a grease spot.

Long, straight, black hair covered her shoulders and hung down both sides to her waist. On her forehead a black widows peak plunged almost to her nose. Around her neck was an amulet, on which hung five oblong letters: W-I-T-C-H.

I managed to stammer something about a coke. She motioned us to a booth, and when she disappeared into the back room to get the drinks, we fled.

Remembering all this I stopped so fast my backpack almost flew over my head.

What's the matter? Louise said as she continued on. Come on, I'm dying for a cold drink.

My eyes gazed around for the little men. They were gone. I followed her inside, wondering if the warlock would be there staring at me. With relief I saw he, too, was missing. Where the great spider had sat, was now a blank space on the wall. No more witches flew on their brooms. The only resemblance to the room as it had been, was one lone small black spider up in a corner of the ceiling.

And then the lady appeared. Although as changed as the room was, I knew she was the same person. Hair that had once been long and black was now brown and shoulder length. But the widow's peak still framed the same slanty, green eyes.

I sighed with relief. Even though I knew she was the same person, she now looked almost normal.

Doesn't this place sort of give you the creeps? Louise asked, as we sat where the green-eyed lady had pointed. It was then I remembered the amulet that had hung around her neck. It was missing.

Nope, I said. It's just your imagination.

Louise hurriedly gulped her coke and jumped up. Let's get out of here, she whispered. "I can't stand it in