Storytime Anytime: 22 Short Stories

Contents

About the book

Acknowledgments

Dedications

I Quit-I Promise

Unknown Until Now

Christmas Spirit

The Divinity

The Eulogy And The Will

Flight Of A Madman

John And Louise

The Organization

Reflections of a different kind

The ‘Tyrannical Beast

The Unpredictable Ghost

Marty

Lee

The Fateful Connection

Call Thou Upon My Name

The Furry Three

Week of the Visitors

Murder On The Unit

2500 AD

The Dolphin And The Pearl

The Farm

The Home

About the author

Drawings By: \

Suzanne Haskew

Artist

Muckey Bottom Studio

3760 Oak Plank Road

Milford, Michigan 48381

About the book 

The Farm: This is a true story and is based upon recollections of events, which took place while living with my aunt, uncle and two cousins on a farm in Leslie, Michigan prior to WWII. The names of those involved have been changed.

The Home: This is a true story and is based upon recollections of events associated with the Protestant Children’s Home, Detroit, Michigan, from 1941 through 1945. The names of those involved have been changed to protect their identity.

Lee: This is a true story and only the names of those involved have been changed.

Reflections of a Different Kind: I would like to believe that this is a true story.

All other stories contained within this book are fictional; any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Any slight of people, places, or organizations is unintentional.

Acknowledgments 

To Robert P. Stanley, and all my many friends, who have given me friendship, love, support, and encouragement, I am deeply grateful.

To my good friend Suzanne Haskew for agreeing to do the drawings for this book and for her welcomed suggestions.

To Kenneth Marten for taking the time to proofread my book and for his invaluable suggestions.

To Christine (Nicholas) Cheolas and Connie Nicholas (wife of Nick Nicholas), for providing me with three 16mm films of Camp Tinega from 1941,1942 and 1943. I would also like to thank Christine for her valuable childhood memories of The Protestant Children’s Home.

To the staff of Christ Episcopal Church, Detroit, Michigan for assisting me in my recollections of the church while I was a child at the Protestant Children’s Home.

Dedications 

The following stories are dedicated individually to people who have given me friendship, love, support, and encouragement.

UNKNOWN UNTIL NOW

Art Johnston and Greg Palmer

CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

Anna, Andrew, Audrey, Andrea, and Anna Marie Salach

THE DIVINITY

Robert P. Stanley

THE EULOGY AND THE WILL

Helen Townsend

FLIGHT OF A MADMAN

Harriett Ryan

JOHN AND LOUISE

My aunt, Katheryn Louise Lake

THE ORGANIZATION

Richard Woodruff

REFLECTIONS OF A DIFFERENT KIND

Catherine Bailey, on behalf of a close and loving friend

THE TYRANNICAL BEAST

Beryl, Mikel, and Christopher Hagenian

THE UNPREDICTABLE GHOST

Carroll and Francis Shenk

MARTY

Bert Silas and Armaine Holly Osterberg

THE HOME

The children and staff of the Protestant Children’s Home

LEE

Malcolm Mac R. Buller

THE FATEFUL CONNECTION

My mother, Irene, and my brother, William Bill Mitchell

CALL THOU UPON MY NAME

Opal Maxwell and Mariann Bischoff

THE FURRY THREE

My niece, Denise, and Robert Maskiewicz and family

I QUIT—I PROMISE

Spencer and Eugenia Ballard

WEEK OF THE VISITORS

Suzanne and Harold Haskew

MURDER ON THE UNIT

Valarie M Dudley and Lavone Steele

2500 AD

Ken Martin

THE DOLPHIN AND THE PEARL

Sharon A Johnson

THE FARM

Annie, Clarence, Anna Mae, John Mitchell

I Quit-I Promise 

Quit - I Promise

Shady Willow Lodge was actually a large old house just big enough to house eight paying residents, none of whom had much in common other than playing cards, smoking cigarettes and occasional coughing and expectorating. Oh yes, I must not forget religion, as they all professed to be religious to some degree or another.

Mary Goldberg took her place next to Rabbi Stein. Mary was a rather stately lady somewhere in her early sixties. No one really knew for sure, as she never discussed her age. Her wrinkled skin showed the ravages of time and far too much sun. Makeup could hardly cover up nature’s mistakes, but God knows, she used enough of it in her fruitless effort to look a year or two younger. It’s your turn to hold the weekly wrap-up, Father Gregory, she said, as she lit up another cigarette. Mary always smoked those long, slender ones, which she kept in her hand-engraved silver case.

Father Gregory had retired a number of years ago but continued to assist at the local Catholic Church nearby. He had come to this country from Ireland when he was a young man and still spoke with a strong Irish accent. O.K., you go first, Father Gregory said, as he pointed to Mary with his unlit cigarette held firmly in his hand.

Yes, Mary, what did you do this week?

Such a thing, you should never believe, Father. I went to the hypnotist—to quit, you know. Oh, I know I tried this before, but I’m not the only one here to try it. I took Arthur Todd with me.

Well, I can see it didn’t work. Did it? With this said, Father Gregory took out a small lighter and lit the cigarette he had so recently used as a pointer.

Joyce Berry was next to discuss the events of her past week. Joyce was typical of the nervous type. She was thin as a rail, and talked with one of those frequently high-pitched voices that tend to chatter on and on when left unchecked.

Well, let’s see now, I had one of those positively terrible nights a couple days ago. I ran out of cigarettes, and of course, it was far too late to bother anyone here, and the store was out of the question. I came out into the sitting room and carefully went through the baskets looking for a butt that might be just long enough for a few good drags. Absolutely nothing—nothing, I tell you. We need to do something about these unexpected emergencies. Well, at any rate, all’s well that ends well. I found two nice butts just outside the front door. Thank God it wasn’t raining.

Rabbi Stein was still considered fairly desirable to those women who came to know him. He stood some six feet tall and still retained a fairly good physique and acceptable good looks. He was next to speak. I was invited to speak at the temple, Rabbi Stein said as he sat there with a slightly bent cigarette dangling from his mouth. A long ash looked as though it was about to fall upon the table. Yes, I would love to have been able to speak, but that damned sore throat came back. Seems I get this problem every so often. Must be something in the food.

Not unless you’re eating your cigarettes again, Father Gregory interjected.

Rabbi Stein acted as though he had not heard the good Father’s remark. Perhaps I’ll be up to speaking next week, if they need me, that is. Oh yes, that wonderful Tilly Epstein sent me a couple cartons of those generic brands. God should remember her. Such a thoughtful soul.

O.K., Harold Spencer’s next. Harold was a man in his early seventies and of slender build with a rather sharp pointed nose. Sort of on the quiet side. Tell us, Harold, anything happen to you this past week?

"No, nothing unusual, Father. I went fishing again; but I do that every week. Yes, maybe one thing unusual; I went off and left my cigarettes behind. I only had two left in my pack, and I was on the water before I realized I smoked my last one an hour ago. Talk about hell, now that’s hell. It really is.

I was the only smoker on that damned boat. Couldn’t concentrate on fishing, and it almost made me sick to my stomach. It’s a wonder I didn’t go nuts. Compared to this, anything else was unimportant.

Barbara Finnley was shifting about in her chair when Father Gregory directed his attention toward her. Barbara professed to be only sixty-five, but could easily pass for a women ten years older; and that was being generous. Too many good times and far too many drinks had taken their toll. Nonetheless, she was pleasant enough and actually, rather likable. Anyone got a cig? I left mine back in the room.

You can have one of mine if you can tell us how you spent your week, Father Gregory said as he offered her a cigarette from his pack.

After a brief episode of coughing, Barbara managed to pull herself together. I had a fabulous week. I went out several times, and I made a couple visits to that wonderful little tobacco store in town. You know, the place next door to that pick-up bar. Not that I’ve ever been in it. Now, you’re not going to believe this, but I actually bought a pipe and some of the most aromatic tobacco you ever smelled. I thought it might help my cough.

Martha Green was next to speak. She used to be a schoolteacher and had always dressed rather plainly, spoke with a flawless vocabulary, was of average looks and height, and remained somewhat indistinguishable in any crowd. I spent my week visiting the library and the museum. I likewise visited the shopping center and bought some cigarettes and personal items. After all, I could hardly be expected to be dashing about like some young chick.

Lastly, Arthur Todd was to speak, but he had little to say other than that he had visited the hypnotist with Mary Goldberg, and as it didn’t work for Mary, it didn’t work for him either. Arthur had been a mechanic, and had retired eight years ago. He still drove his car and spent just enough time with Mary to cause a little talk within the group.

I guess that’s that, Father Gregory said as he moved on to the final part of the wrap-up discussion. Anyone got any suggestions or advice they might want to offer the group?

Yes, Father, Barbara offered. I just watched a TV program about the dangers of smoking. We have all mentioned how much it bothers us from time to time. I was just wondering, why we don’t all consider quitting together. Maybe we could do it as a group.

Sounds like something we might consider. Anyone have any ideas how it could be done? Father Gregory asked.

Mary seemed to have the most experience with all the methods of quitting, as she had tried hypnotists, acupuncture, cutting down, rewards, group therapy, and the like. I would like to propose something rather unique to this business of quitting, Mary said. This might sound a little strange, but I suggest that we all take a holy oath to God. You can’t break your word to God.

Rabbi Stein suddenly became quite excited. Sounds great to me. Are we all for it? If so we’ll start tomorrow. Each person in turn answered yes, and the plan was set into motion. Let’s all stand, raise your right hand and repeat after me: I solemnly swear to God almighty, that I will not have another cigarette or product of tobacco ever again, starting tomorrow. With this done, Rabbi Stein made a motion to close the meeting. Thus ended this most eventful day.

Day One

Oy mein Gott. I feel like hell. You don’t know what I went through all night without a cigarette, Mary said as she sat down to breakfast.

What do you mean all night, you sleep at night. If you think that’s so bad, wait until today is over. If you felt like hell this morning, you’ll feel like shit tonight, Barbara said as she poured herself a second cup of coffee.

Why, Barbara, I never heard you talk like that before. Is anything wrong?

Is anything wrong, Rabbi! Is anything wrong! You’re damned right something is wrong. I usually have my first cigarette when my feet touch the floor, my second one after I brush my teeth, the third one after I get dressed, and right now, I’d be on my fourth or fifth. It’s like cigarettes were the only thing that controlled the demon from within me. Whose ridiculous idea was this in the first place?

Merciful Father in heaven. Let’s pray that it’s not like this every day. Someone told me it might take months, even years to get over the craving. Let’s pray it’s not true. Last night I prayed to Saint John to help me through this. He’s my special saint, you know. Father Gregory looked a little pale as he sat down to eat. Yes, a little suffering does good for one’s soul, so I’m told. But Lord, there must be some limits to the amount of suffering one must endure. Incidentally, Barbara, it was Mary’s idea, don’t you remember?

Joyce sat at the table, hands shaking like she hadn’t had a drink in a month. Oh, my nerves. My nerves. I think I’ll need tranquilizers, maybe even sleeping pills. I don’t dare go anywhere. If I were to see someone smoking, I think I’ll go nuts. Nuts, do you hear? My stomach was tied up in knots ever since I got up this morning.

Harold and Arthur were late coming to the dining room. Neither one appeared to be unusually uncomfortable and both sat down to eat as though nothing different had taken place in their everyday lives.

You’ve cheated, haven’t you. No one could be that composed. Where’d you smoke them? In your rooms or outside?

Rabbi, please. How could you? We just didn’t want to upset the others, so we agreed not to let on like anything was bothering us. No, Harold and I haven’t so much as looked at a cigarette, much less smoked one. Why is everyone so suspicious?

Week One

Don’t tell me where to sit, you bitch. I’ll sit anywhere I damned well please, Barbara said as she moved to another spot at the table.

Listen, honey, you call me a bitch once more and out come those false eyelashes along with your fake nails and dime store wig, Mary said as she moved her chair to the opposite side of the table. Can you believe what a bitch that Barbara’s turned into?

Harold looked a little agitated as he remarked, Ladies, please. None of that today. You’ve been at it all week. Why can’t you behave like Father Gregory and Rabbi Stein? Why, you’re almost as bad as that little fart, Arthur. What a pain in the ass he turned out to be.

What do you mean, little fart and pain in the ass? Now that’s something coming from a bird-brained piss-ant like you. With this said, Arthur took a quick swipe at Harold, and it was almost impossible to pull them apart.

Father Gregory looked a little disturbed by the events surrounding him as he turned to Rabbi Stein and said: Seems you want to be the big shot around here. I noticed how you cleverly edged your way into the leadership role. Now don’t blame this on cigarettes. I’ve been noticingfor a long time how immature you really are. Oh, you could become a little dictator if you had your way.

Dictator you say? You Catholics have had a lot more practice at that than we’ve ever had. Now pack that in your pipe, light it, take a deep puff, and blow it out your ass.

Month One

Everyone was seated at the table when Barbara made her entrance.. She was wearing one of those rather sleek dresses with the low-cut front, a turban and a black-feathered boa. Where the hell you been, Barbara? Mary asked as she took a few drags on a straw she had cut down to cigarette size. I heard you been spending time down at that sleazy pick-up bar you pretend you never go to.

Just because your face is shot, honey, is no reason that I have to remain a virgin all my life. Yes, you’re right about one thing, baby; I took up sex, when I gave up cigs. By the way, Mary, I smelled smoke when I passed by your room. Who you kidding, you old hussy?

Joyce couldn’t help but join in the conversation. You know, Father, Since the truth is out, I saw you smoking a cigarette last night—outside, behind that old oak tree. I just happened to be outside myself catching a breath of fresh air when I spotted you.

O.K., you’re right, but I have a logical explanation for this. You see, I was in my room praying when suddenly, Saint John appeared by my bedside, and in his hand was a cigarette. I couldn’t help myself, I was tempted, as it was my favorite brand. Yes, I took it and together, Saint John and I each smoked one while standing behind that old tree. Incidentally, Joyce, you may have not noticed it, but I saw you smoking at the same time you claim to have caught me. For that matter, I also caught Rabbi Stein smoking in the kitchen while he thought we were all asleep. Not just once, but several times.

Rabbi Stien looked shocked and bewildered. "Father Gregory is not the only one to have been tempted by a spiritual experience. I was never going to mention this, but now I must confess that it was Moses himself who offered to reward me for my many years of faithful service.