BETHY ROSE AND CHARLIE WADE MEET

Aunt Lutie thinks the whole bloggin' world is interested in everything that goes on in Harts Corner. Well, I certainly don't see any comments being left on this blog so maybe not one person in this entire world gives a hoot. Of course, Miz Barbara will just tell me to keep talkin' here as you never know what life you will touch.

She wants me to tell you about Charlie Wade. And now that he's in a real home and most--I say most because there's always some smart mouth who bullies people no matter what--most kids have decided to Charlie Wade is pretty cool.

Aunt Lutie says I followed him, trying to find out more about him. I guess I did do that but my heart was in the right place as I was real concerned about his well bein'. I can't tell you though how many times I snuck around, hidin' behind dumpsters, steppin' into doorways, and still I couldn't keep up. Where did he go? Where did he live? Who were his parents? If he knew all about bein' homeless, did that mean he was one of them?

It took a long time but one day I watched him cross the bridge over a stream south of town, then move down the rocky berm, and disappear. By the time I reached the spot, there was no sight of him. So I just scooted right down the side of the road, and followed a faint path that led beneath the bridge. That's when I found out where Charlie lived.

He had set up a camp tucked way up beneath the bridge, sheltered from the weather. A sleeping bag was neatly rolled up beyond a ring of rocks with a stack of small branches nearby. There were some tin cans in a box along with one small skillet and an even smaller saucepan. No lantern. No pillow. No ice. His living quarters were pretty bare.

"Get out of here!" Charlie rose up from behind a large boulder near the stream, still wearing the backpack he carried everywhere. "You shouldn't have followed me."

"Where's your family, Charlie?" I sat down on a rock and waited. When he didn't answer, I continued, "I'm worried about you bein' here alone."

"It's none of your business how I live." He seemed ready to run. "I've been on my own for a long time."

"Why? How? You're not more than nine or ten."

"What's it to you?"

"I think you need a friend. And you need a house to live in."

"Been there, done that." He didn't meet my look. "Besides, some people don't deserve a house."

That sure surprised me. "Everyone needs a family, Charlie. I found that out. Miguel will find you a place, Charlie."

His mouth curled up in a sneer. "You keep him out of this. He's a cop and all they want to do is send kids like me to an orphanage or to a work camp for bad kids."

"Not in Harts Corner, Son."

I don't know where Miguel came from but neither one of us heard him. And we both jumped at the sound of his voice.

Charlie froze, a look of fear on his face.

"Let Miguel help you, Charlie."

"I promise I will do everything in my power to help you stay in Harts Corner. Folks in this town will want to help you out." Miguel began to pile the cooking items in with the food. "Bethy Rose, scatter that fire ring. Charlie, grab your sleep bag."

"I won't stay wherever you take me." His voice began as a squeak but rose as he gathered courage. "I've never stolen from nobody, never been in trouble. There's no reason for you to waste your time. You can't find a place that can hold me forever."

I protested. "You sure have a smart mouth, Charlie. No one should talk to anyone, least ways a sheriff, that way. When Miguel says he will help you, he doesn't mean to dump you on somebody who doesn't care."

He turned on me with fists balled up. "You're a snitch. You told him where to find me."

"I never..."

I've known you were here from the day you arrived."

Charlie looked shocked.

"It's my town, Son. I know what goes on here and who moves in--even beneath a bridge. Let's go."

"W...where are you takin' me?"

"To the one place where you'll be safe and warm. And cared for."

"There's no such place." He glared at both of us.

"They'll be two people who will offer you a stable home, a bedroom of your own, and the opportunity to grow into someone who can look at themselves in the mirror with thanks each day."

"Miguel, that sounds like our family."

He smiled. "The next best, honey."

"Who would do this for Charlie? No one really knows him. We don't know if he's really homeless, or where he came from, or if someone is lookin' for him."

We had reached the cruiser parked at the end of the bridge. Miguel opened the trunk and put Charlie's things inside. He looked over his shoulder.

"I know Charlie Wade Black ran from the scene where his parents were killed mysteriously."

Charlie began to shake. He allowed me to pull him into the backseat with me. He even squeezed my hand as we headed to a new home several miles out in the country. A place where Jewel and Harold waited to give Charlie a new life.

AUNT LUTIE GIVES ADVICE

You all have been wonderin' I am sure what has happened to this blog. Well, I am here to tell you that things have gone amiss both with Miz Barbara and Harts Corner, Texas. Not real bad but too busy. In October, Bethy Rose's little writin' group was going like a house on fire--yes, I know that is one of those horrible cliches that instructors and English teachers are always harpin' on us not to use. But it suits the scene in that school auditorium, for sure. Then November came along and everyone was busy with Thanksgiving, either havin' a ton of family showin' up or drivin' miles away to enjoy someone else's turkey dinner. Anyway, things slowed down a bit. In December it came to a halt. Everyone, includin' Miz Barbara, was just too darned busy to write much less show up to read anything. And she's still strugglin' with shoulder pain and weak hands and all those nasty things that go along with falls you wouldn't have had if your feet had been goin' in the right direction.

So Bethy Rose said they'd meet again in January. Here it is January, almost the end of the month, and no one has agreed to a date. So she's gonna put out the word that January 31, a Friday night, is the time to get the show rollin' again. She says she'll be there if she has to read to empty chairs. I think I know for sure that several chairs will be filled no matter what.

I know Bethy Rose will be there hopin' that Charlie shows up, too. Oh, I forgot that I haven't told you about Charlie yet. Well, it all started with her Open Reading thing. She just loves writin' and "performin'" her work. And she's still encouragin' other kids to write their stories, too. That's sort of how she met Charlie Wade.

Bethy Rose says she'd only seen him once in the hallway at school before he showed up at one of the Readings. She noticed he was still wearin' a big backpack which appeared full when he went up the steps to the stage. When he read his story--from the memoir of his homeless life--Bethy Rose she was blown away, didn't know whether to cheer or cry. But it bothered her that the adults in the audience didn't seem to believe the story wasn't fiction.

You do know how smart our Bethy Rose is, don't you? Well, she set out to prove them wrong. She played sleuth (I wonder where she got that notion?), followed Charlie in secret, learnin' more about him and his life. And, it turned out to be almost more than that child could handle. What did she discover?

I think I'll have to let her tell you all about that. But I do have some advice to all you folks out there. Do not look down your long noses at anyone in this world. You don't know what pain they may have in their lives. You have no idea what brought them to this particular spot in the world. You need to reach out a hand, become interested, help them up, care for them like they were as good as you are.

Because, you know what, they are one of God's children just the same as you are. He knows their story. He doesn't care what they may or may not have done to be in a certain position. He loves them anyway. And, you, with your judging notions are not loved anymore than the lowest creature on this earth.

End of advice. Bethy Rose will tell you the rest of this story when she is ready to share.  Have a good weekend and pray for everyone to have a good life.

Aunt Lutie

BETHY ROSE WRITES

Can I truly sign my name as Bethy Rose Wheeler, Author, since I'm writing and sharing my stories? MM says if you write, you are a writer. Miguel says if you share your stories, you are a writer. Jewel and Harold both agree that if people enjoy your stories, you are a writer. Isn't that neat!

I call my story, "Grape Saves the Day." It's like a fantasy story with a lesson about friends. I'll let you read it here but I can't hear your applause if you clap. If you don't like it, well...as Aunt Lutie would say, "Go stuff an egg! Get a life!"

Grape Saves the Day

In the early days of knights and castles, there were also dragons. Some of these dragons were ugly and spit out fire to kill everything in sight, including people. Others were tamed to help the workers in the field, or to go on patrol with the knights. But there was one dragon who was so different no one knew what to do with him.

Most dragons we've seen pictures of are green, or gray if real ugly. They're huge and their fire-breath leaps out with a roaring sound and spreads over a wide area. They are so scary everyone has bad dreams just thinking of them. This new dragon was small, the breath from his mouth was a wimpy flame with hardly any sound at all. He wasn't scary at all. And to make him feel ever worse about himself, he was PURPLE!

Grape!

So he just stopped doing the dragon things. Most all the adults still shunned him when he showed up. A few kids gave a nod to his "Hi!" But it was Kathy June who befriended Grape by walking right up to him one day when he spoke.

She looked way, way up to gaze into the big black eyes. "Hello to you. My name's Kathy June. What's yours?"

The dragon shuffled his huge feet, looked down, and mumbled something.

"I can't hear you. Bend down and tell me again."

The dragon spread his front feet and leaned toward Kathy June. "Grape. My name's Grape."

"Did you say Grape?" When he nodded, Kathy June clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Your color goes with your name. I don't know what a Kathy June is supposed to look like. Do you?"

The dragon was really surprised. "You like my name?"

"I love the color purple." She flung her arms wide. "Yes, I so love your name. Come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"You've got to meet my friends."

"But no one likes me, " Grape protests.

"They don't know you." She led the way with her tiny hand on his ankle. "I'll bet you can play a mean game of kick-the-ball. And if a kite gets caught in a tree you can get it down for us. The kids around here will think you are so cool!"

"I don't know how to...play." He waited for Kathy to turn away.

She just laughed.

"It will be fun to teach you. And maybe you can teach us some new things, too, right?"

Grape couldn't think of much he could teach them but he was so happy, he'd find something to share with his new friend--and all the friends he was going to make. Cool!

INJURIES AND WRITING, HAND-IN-HAND

I really made a mess of things two months ago. People in town tell me that none of this is my fault. They remind me I couldn't have known any of this would happen when I called out to my two best friends. It's not that I want to talk about this now either because I do still feel awfully guilty, but the readers need an explanation as to why this blog has been silent for months.

You all know me--Jewel Tate--waitress/sometimes cook at the Blue Moon. A while back my best fella, Harold, who also works at the Blue Moon, surprised the heck out of me with some beautiful poetry he had written. Of course, I had to show it off, and MM got all excited about his writing. She went so far as to go on the Internet and find some places that might accept his poems. Sure enough, an online site, printed them and then a literary magazine contacted him to ask if he had more. They paid him $5 for every poem he submitted.

Before you know it, the whole town wanted to hear Harold's poetry. So once again MM got involved. She gave this reception, as she called it, at the Blue Moon one evening for everyone to hear Harold's work. It amazed them that he had notebooks filled with words. When had he found the time to write all those poems?

Town folks talked about their writing, too. Short stories, memories, and several books, completed and others works in progress, as they called them. There were some poets, too. It was amazing that all those people--kids, too--were Harts Corner writers.

Someone suggested we should have a monthly "Open Mike," a whole evening when folks could share their work. MM put up a sign-up sheet in the Blue Moon to see if there really was enough interest in such an event. Pretty quick signatures flowed onto the sheet. I've been making notes on family history for years but I wasn't sure I wanted to share it. I finally put my name down with a ? next to it. Bethy Rose has a funny story about a purple dragon she was ready to share. MM just wanted to listen. And so it went until it seemed we had an event to schedule and plan.

The school offered the auditorium and the date was set for July 23 at 7 PM. On that night I was running late (other than work, am I ever on time for anything?) and had to park at the far back of the lot. I rushed in among the cars toward the sidewalk. That's when I spotted MM, Bethy Rose, and Miz Barbara. I picked up speed and yelled for them to "Wait up." That's when both women jerked around and I stood there watching, astounded, as MM stepped off the curb and sprawled on the concrete. Miz Barbara, who reached out for her, copied her fall exactly. They both managed to get up but when I reached their side I could see neither one of them was going to be going inside that school tonight.

Blood dripped from scrapped fingertips. Both clutched an arm and hugged it to their chest. MM had a knot forming on her forehead. Miz Barbara's mouth was bleeding all over her pretty yellow blouse. Bruises formed before my eyes.

Someone ran inside for Gus who jogged two blocks to the ambulance parked at his Shamrock station. Both, protesting but not too vigorously, were carted off to Doc Barnes who had been called to meet them at his office. He x-rayed and, finding no broken bones, patched therm up as best he could, gave them pain killers, and set appointments for the next day at Orthopedics in Crockett. They are both having physical therapy now.

Neither of them could/can type on this blog and as you must know by now, those two ladies are the heart and soul of this thing. And, though we put our two cents worth in, we haven't had any time to do anything but keep the Blue Moon running. Blog? Forget it! MM can't even work yet and it's been two months. Another thing we do is spend part of our time sending MM back home (with Miguel threatening to lock her in a cell when he's on duty!). Sorry, we just haven't had the time to keep you folks informed. We'll try to do a bit better from here on out.

In the meantime, maybe we'll just post some of the writings of our town folks. Be ready for some good stories by amateur talent.

CATCHIN' UP

I don't know where this month has gone but it is almost over. We all managed to get through the End-of-School picnic and the slumber party afterward without much trouble. Miguel had a few bruises after the baseball game and the humiliating loss to the high school baseball team. I think his and the others fellas from town's pride was the main bruise suffered. Bethy Rose and her girlfriends, with Cora's help, and Aunt Lutie's recipe, turned out a pretty good mess of fried chicken and a real tasty Key Lime Pie for the picnic before the game. Then Miguel and I managed to put up with giggling girls and, what they thought of as quietly, sneaking down to the kitchen and out on the back porch in the middle of the night; they finally settled down a little after one in the morning so we old folks could get several hours sleep before it was time to make pancakes for us all.

Jewel and Harold have been doing a lot of whispering among themselves in the cafe for the past week or so. I don't know what's going on but have tried not to be my usually nosey self and ask. I am wondering if they are going to surprise us by announcing a wedding date though. I keep looking for a ring on her finger, but then again maybe under the circumstances of the end to her last marriage (and not a day too soon as I was about to take a shotgun after Chester myself), Jewel won't want one. But then again, maybe Harold wants all the world...well, at least here in Harts Corner...to know she's been asked and said yes to his proposal, and will want her to wear his ring. These older folks can be so complicated.

Don't look at me that way. My life is complicated enough without getting involved with all that wedding bell stuff with Miguel just yet. We are both perfectly happy with the way things are going. It may not be legal as far as a piece of paper filed at the courthouse, but Miguel, Bethy Rose and I are a family. I know he is the only man for me and, I'm pretty sure, he knows that I'm not running off anywhere. I'm going to say yes one of these days. That is when I'm ready. And if Miguel asks me again.

Wouldn't it be a hoot if he never does ask again? Hmm, I wonder if he's changed his mind?

Meringue and Limes

I'm still laughing about Cora's call. She was in panic mode about those girl's ideas for dessert to take to the After School Picnic. They had found one of the fancy cookbooks I'd bought while still in high school, thinking I might be able to cook my way out of Harts Corner, or at least find a job with some restaurant town far away, not a café in another East Texas town. In this particular cookbook, Bethy Rose found a "dream pie" as she called it, a recipe for Key Lime Pie with a tall meringue.

I calmed Cora down and assured her I'd be over on Friday afternoon before the picnic on Saturday. I'd gather up all the ingredients and help the girls make the buy. She wanted a copy of the recipe so she could make sure she had everything set out so the mixing and baking wouldn't take too long. I think she's really just curious about what in the heck kind of pie this Key Lime thing is. I dropped a copy off on my way home from the café.

Key Lime Pie

Make a graham cracker crust or buy one of the tasty ones already made up (9-inch). Set aside.

4 egg yolks                                            1 can (14-oz. sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup lime juice (fresh or bottled)

Whisk the yolks, condensed milk and lime juice together.  In another bowl, whisk 2 egg whites until nearly stiff and fold into the yolk mixture. Pour into the crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 18 minutes, or until mixture is set but slightly jiggly. Let cool on rack.

Refrigerate, uncovered, at least four hours.

(I'll probably go over to Cora's with the girls right before we head for the picnic and have them create the meringue.)

Before serving, or carrying to the picnic, preheat the broiler.

Using an electric mixer, whisk together 5 egg whites and 1 pinch cream of tartar. Beat at medium speed, gradually adding 1/2 cup sugar, until soft peaks just begin to form. Beat at high speed until peaks are stiff, about 30 seconds.

Spread meringue in peaks on top of pie; make sure it covers to touch the sides completely.

 Broil in the center of the broiler, rotating if needed, until the meringue is golden-brown, about 2 minutes.

And off it goes to the picnic or to the counter in your kitchen waiting for dessert time.
*** 

It's really not a hard recipe to follow. I'm sure the girls can do a pretty good job of mixing and even doing the meringue. I'll have them take turns because sometimes it takes up to five minutes to get those just-right peaks to form.

Come on and join us on Saturday for the End of School Picnic in Harts Corner, Texas, ya'all.

END OF SCHOOL PICNIC AND SLUMBER PARTIES

Everyone who needs someone to watch their kids for a few hours, after school, or even for a day, knows they can call on me. "You know Cora just loves kids and doesn't mind them bringing mud into her kitchen, picking her flowers for "bookays" or eating all the cookies she just baked for the church bake sale." I'm smiling, folks, because even though they do these things, I do love them and enjoy having them around. I had four youngins of my own and now I have grandchildren to babysit and spoil.

The only time I draw the line on letting the kids into my life is when Leonard wants me to accompany him and the band on one of their gigs, or I just need some time to myself. Otherwise, this house is full of laughter, poutin', sometimes a few tantrums and, now and then, one or two of them sittin' in a corner for time out. I thought I'd give you a little background so you'd understand how I got roped into agreein' to allow Bethy Rose and my granddaughters talk me into lettin' them have a slumber party at our house the night before the End of the School Picnic. And for promisin' to help them cook up a bunch of food for the event. I think I have lost my mind or, as Lutie Mae Lucus  would tell me I got "teched" in the head for a moment or two.

For those who didn't grow up in Texas (or the South), you probably don't know a thing about these picnics we have to celebrate the end of school. I don't know who came up with the idea but I have a thought that it was the male men in small towns who missed bein' baseball jocks and wanted to have their old dreams come true by playin' the high school baseball team once a year. They had to have a reason to call these games so they suggested all the women bring their tastiest dishes for a big picnic before the game of the year.

It's become one more of those things the town always shares. I don't anyone who would miss it. It keeps us connected. Sometimes it serves as a school reunion; those who moved away come back for the event in order to catch up with all their former classmates--and many times to do a little braggin' about their successes and to show off their families. That doesn't bother the ones who never left. They know it's a wonderful place to live, raise children, play, attend church--even if they have to drive twenty to thirty miles one way to a job.

Bethy Rose just showed up with one of MM's cookbooks. I hear her talkin' to the other girls about fried chicken and macaroni salad--that'll be easy for them. They've been hangin' around the kitchen with me and MM for a couple of years and are pretty good cooks of simple foods. No matter what they cook up, there will be so much food those tables lined up end to end will be groanin'.

What's that dessert she's talkin' about? Key Lime Meringue  Pie? Doesn't she mean lemon? No, there she's repeated it again. She's explainin' it's a special pie made with limes from that Key West place. Does she think we're goin' to Florida to get the main ingredient for a podunk picnic?

I should have known this wasn't gonna be easy. And I thought agreein' to a slumber party was gonna be the biggest headache.

Help, Mary Margaret!