A LITTLE ORANGE IN THE BIG APPLE
by
Valarie M. Vine
Smashwords Edition
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Published on Smashwords by:
Valarie M. Vine
A Little Orange in the Big Apple
Copyright 2009 by Valarie M. Vine
Cover credit: Katrina Joyner
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
5: Chicken Heads and Walnut Shells
8: Dick and Jane vs Alice in Wonderland
9: A Place Called New York City
11: Ali and Reynolds Get Their Wings
12: First Look at the Big Apple
13: Father and Son to the Theater/Mother and Daughter to the Park
14: All Alone in New York City
15: Little Apartment in the Big City
16: A Hurricane Followed by a Walk in the Park
17: No Trick or Treating Allowed
22: A Parade, a Pinch, and a Goodbye
24: Reynolds Sings in the Choir
27: Keep Your Eye Upon the Donut
28: Spring Prom, Graduation, and a Visit from Father
29: Strange Dream–Ali in Wonderland
* * * * *
“California is a nice place to live, if you happen to be an orange.”
—Fred Allen
•
* * * * *
Ali’s heart was beating hard as she leaned back on her swing and with all her might pumped as high as she could into the air. It wasn’t just because she was trying to touch the gray sky with her brand new cowgirl boots (with little orange-colored rivets at the top). She was excited about going home for a entire week. It was Christmas week! Her mother would be able to stay home from work, and she wouldn’t have to stay at Mrs. Amity’s boarding home for a whole seven days.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray-----”, sang Ali as she struggled to go higher on the swing while she waited for her mother’s car to appear in Mrs. Amity’s driveway. Her blonde ponytail almost scraped the ground as her legs pointed upward in a straight line toward the gray sky. She was excited and very ready to go home.
Ali’s bag of oranges was on the ground near the swingset. She had picked them especially for her mother and the other relatives who would surely be coming for Christmas dinner. The leaves were flying through the air and whirling about the backyard reflecting Ali’s excitement at seeing her mother any second now. Ali was all alone on the swingset and the last kid still waiting to be picked up for Christmas vacation.
“Ain’t you gone home yet?” yelled Mrs. Amity’s mother who lived in a little dilapidated cottage in the back yard. Ali ‘s heart sunk slightly. Mrs. Amity’s mother was so mean. Sometimes she came storming after Ali and the other kids with a tree switch as they picked oranges from the tree in the backyard. Boy, did it sting when the old lady switched at them and caught their arm or leg. “Stay away from my tree, you little street urchins,” the old lady would always yell. Ali wasn’t sure what a street urchin was, but she was sure it wasn’t good.
“Your mother not here yet, dear?” said Mrs. Amity from the kitchen window of the main house. She was a nice lady who ran the boarding home. How could she be so nice and her mother so mean? Maybe the old lady didn’t like living in the little house in the back yard away from everyone. Maybe she just didn’t like kids. The only thing Ali would miss at her boarding home was Mrs. Amity’s breakfast waffles and the little ice cream cubes they had each night after dinner. Ali, still swinging high, and out of breath yelled, “She’s not here yet, Mrs. Amity.”
Just then a big car rolled up in the driveway, immediately sounding three loud and long “HONK, HONK, HONK’s”. It wasn’t Ali’s mother, but her Grandma Agnes. “Watch me jump off, Grandma!” yelled Ali who was proud of how high she had reached into the overcast sky on the swing.
“HONK, HONK, HONK”, Grandma Agnes returned by pressing on the car’s horn.
“Watch-----watch me jump,” implored Ali.
To Ali’s horror, Grandma Agnes was pulling back out of the driveway. She was leaving without her! Ali frantically let go of the chains on the swing and flew through the air, twisting and turning, and landing in the bushes next to the driveway. “Ouch!” Ali winced as she rubbed her scraped knees through her cut overalls. She was hurting, but at the same time quickly grabbing for her bag of oranges and running wildly down the driveway and then down the sidewalk trying to catch up with Grandma Agnes’ car.
“Wait for me, wait for me,” wailed Ali, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, partly from the pain of her bleeding knees and partly from the fear of being left behind.
The car stopped abruptly and Grandma Agnes reached over and shoved open the car door on Ali’s side.
“You come when I honk the first time---do you understand, Ali?” said Grandma Agnes, sounding like her teacher and waving her finger at Ali.
“Hurry up and get in,” added Ali’s Grandma impatiently.
Ali climbed into the car and sat there with tears in her eyes, holding the bag of oranges with one hand and rubbing her bleeding knees as best she could with the other hand.
“Such an inconvenience,” said Grandma Agnes who was chewing gum and looking back and forth at Ali and the cars ahead of her. “Your mother calls at the last minute and asks me to pick you up. I have presents to wrap! I’m not sitting around waiting to run errands and pick up kids,” she added indignantly. Ali’s Grandma suddenly demanded the windows be rolled down.
“I’m hot, we need some air in here”.
Ali thought that was odd, since it was December and actually kind of cold outside. Ali tried to roll down the window on her side, but her oranges began falling out of the brown bag and rolling around on the car floor. In an instant, Grandma Agnes pulled to the curb, stopped the car with a jerk, leaned down and started throwing all the oranges onto the street.
“Those darn oranges will roll around and cause me to have an accident. Really, Ali,” huffed Grandma Agnes.
The car pulled back into traffic. Ali turned around in the front seat and got up gingerly on her scraped knees in time to look through the rear window. Her oranges were rolling around in the street, getting squashed by traffic, one by one.
* * * * *
River Street was coming up. There was their little house. Despite Grandma Agnes’ wild drive home, it was good to be at her real home. Ali was limping up the driveway that her mother was watering down before company arrived. Ali walked straight to her mother and hugged her leg and looked up at her.
“Hi Angel-----what’s the matter?” inquired Ali’s mother who could see Ali had been crying.
“I wanted to show Grandma Agnes how high I could jump from the swing, but she started to drive away, and, and I hurried and when I jumped, I ended up in Mrs. Amity’s bushes and scraped my knees,” said Ali in a torrent of emotion while holding tight to her mother’s leg. Just then Grandma Agnes walked by on the way to the house.
“That daughter of yours, a dilly-dally little rowdy she is,” Grandma Agnes said while shaking her head and disappearing into the house.
“Mother, I’m not a dilly-dally little rowdy. I just wanted someone to see me jump.” Tears started to well back up in Ali’s eyes.
Ali’s mother leaned over and turned the spigot to shut off the water. She sat down on the porch step, pulling Ali onto her lap, and began rolling up the tattered overalls of her little girl.
“How many times have I told you to slow down and be careful when you’re playing, Ali?” said her mother tenderly. A few drops of water from the hose was dripped onto her mother’s bandanna and placed gently on both of Ali’s scraped knees to absorb the little bit of blood. Ali began feeling better while being tended to by her mother.
“I think you’re going to make it----such a little wild one you are.” Her mother smiled while rocking Ali back and forth in her arms.
There was a little growth of white flowers growing alongside the porch step where Ali and her mother sat. Her mother reached over to break off a small bunch of the flowers for Ali while she continued to rock her gently in her arms.
“This is Sweet Alison just for you, Ali. It grows wild around our house and is very much like you. In fact, I named you after this little flower.” She handed the little bouquet to Ali.
“Really?” inquired Ali “after these little flowers?”
“Yep,” said her mother. “Somehow, I knew Rose or Daisy or Chrysanthemum just wasn’t going to be the right flower name for my little girl.”
“Chris-sand-the-mom?” repeated Ali with a puzzled look on her face. Her mother laughed.
“No you are definitely like Sweet Alison----wild, and bright, and sweet and growing like a weed!”
With that, Ali’s mom gave her a kiss on the forehead, set her back on the walkway and gave her a little swat on the backside. “Now go and find your brother. We’ve got company coming tonight and I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that someone special will be arriving late tonight----”
“Daddy??” Ali asked loudly, interrupting her mother.
“No, Sweetie, not Daddy-----Santa on his sleigh with all the reindeer and presents,” replied Ali’s mother with a wistful smile. Ali’s tears were now dried as she thought about Santa and the reindeer, and of course, the presents. It was still a little sad to think that her father would not be there. Her father and Santa were kind of alike; they were both busy doing important things most of the year (Santa made toys and her father sang songs), but when they did come for a visit, it was wonderful!
* * * * *
Reynolds suddenly appeared from the house, the screen door slamming as he walked toward his mother and his sister.
“Now what’s happened? You’re always falling down or something,” said Reynolds to his little sister, shaking his head and sneering at her as always. Despite her brother’s obnoxious greeting, Ali felt kind of special, like a wounded cowboy on a television show, like her hero Hopalong Cassidy who walked with a limp.
“Mother gave me flowers.” She proudly held them up to Reynolds.
“She said I was named after them.” Reynolds grabbed his stomach in a big pretend laugh saying, “Yeah, you’re like a flower. Like Flower the skunk in Bambi.” He roared with laughter at that.
Their mother quickly snapped at Reynolds, “Leave your sister alone. You two don’t see each other for a week and right away, you’re squabbling. For heaven’s sakes, it’s almost Christmas Eve! Let’s get moving and get ready for the big night!” She shook her head from side to side looking at both of them and muttering something about “getting along” as she disappeared through the front door into the house.
Reynolds looked at Ali, made a face and said, “See ya, squirt”. Same old Reynolds, Ali thought.
Ali ran into the house, directly to her room that she hadn’t seen for a week. She counted all her stuffed animals and was relieved to find them all there. She picked up her favorite, Smokey Bear, who wore a ranger hat and overalls and held him close while saying, “Only you can prevent forest fires” in her best and deepest, Smokey Bear-like voice. Setting Smokey back on the bed, she grabbed her trusty six-shooter and caps and took off to the river which was directly across the street.
While crossing the muddy field that led to the river, she would every now and again pull out her six-shooter, pretending to shoot at a “bad guy”, like on television. “Take that you varmint---bam-bam-bam---get out of my Valley and don’t come back,” threatened Ali against her imaginary opponents. Ali was still hobbling like Hopalong Cassidy as she made her way to the concrete walkway that angled down to the river. She wasn’t supposed to go to the river, especially without her older brother Reynolds who was 11 years old. “I have my gun, ain’t nobody gonna mess with me,” she said out loud with more of her cowboy slang learned from watching westerns when she got home from school.
The river was made of gigantic slabs of concrete with high walls that went for miles and miles through the San Fernando Valley. It was usually dry during the hot summer months, but by the time Christmas arrived, there was often some water flowing down the middle, sometimes a lot of water after a big rain.
Ali slipped through the gate that said, “No Trespassing.” She knew what the sign meant, but somehow it was easy to ignore. Who knows, there might be badmen down there to shoot and take to jail, Ali imagined. She began inching down the walkway that led to the river with her back against the wall, holding her gun pointed into the air. She was ready for whatever might be around the corner. She jumped out and began shooting her cap gun. “Meow”, howled a stray cat that happened to be sniffing around for crawdads by the water’s edge. The snapping sound of the caps in Ali’s gun scared it. The cat ran low to the ground for a short distance, finally stopping and looking back at Ali, then slowly walking away.
“Sorry kitty, I wouldn’t shoot you”, Ali said contritely. Ali loved animals. She would love to have a cat or a dog, but with her father gone all the time and her mother working, pets were “out of the question” as her mother would say.
Looking in one direction, way down the channel, and then the other, Ali didn’t see too much of interest. Some water with a bit of moss, but no craw daddies to retrieve. Some trash here and there, but no shopping carts from the supermarket that somehow ended up in the river. The best things to find were soda pop bottles that she and Reynolds would take back to the supermarket nearby for money. Sometimes as much as 30 cents could be made on a good afternoon. No bottles today. The other neighborhood kids who didn’t go away to a boarding home during the week and lived there all the time, probably already got the good stuff.
“Ali are you down there?” she heard Reynolds say from somewhere way up along the wall of the river channel. “You’re going to get it from Mom if you don’t get out of there and get home right away,” Reynolds declared authoritatively.
Ali looked straight up the concrete wall and saw her brother’s head in a glimmer of sunlight and then all of the sudden “splat”, a big gob of spit landed on her forehead. A direct hit.
“HA-HA-HA-HA----- that was a good one, “ Reynolds said as he laughed wildly. Ali wiped the spit away with her sleeve like any cowboy would do and shot her last few rounds in the air in the direction of Reynold’s voice.
“Take that you varmint”, she said as she ran with a bit of a limp, homeward.
* * * * *
4: “Christmas Eve with Family”
Ali hurried through the front door and discovered Reynolds telling on her as usual, “Yep, she was down in the river again, Mom”. “Ali,” her mother said in exasperation, “get those muddy boots off and throw them on the porch.” Grabbing Ali’s arm, she ushered her toward the bathroom.
“Get into the bath and clean up and put that gun away for heaven’s sake. Grandma Agnes, Uncle Mack, Aunt Lurline, and Uncle Dan will be here in a little while!”
“Oh, boy----Uncle Dan! Is he still wearing his uniform? Is he bringing his rifle, again?” Ali whooped.
“Just get into the tub and I mean now,” said Ali’s mother. How special it would be with both Santa and Uncle Dan coming! It was Ali’s Uncle Dan who had sent her the little red and gold jacket with dragons embroidered on the front for her birthday a couple of years ago. Uncle Dan had been in a war someplace a long way from the Valley and was back home now. Her mother had shown Ali the place on the globe where her Uncle Dan fought in the war; the place was colored in red and kind of looked like a dragon’s head. Uncle Dan was sort of like a cowboy because he had a gun and rode in a tank (although a tank was definitely not as good as a horse thought Ali).
Ali’s mother loved Christmas. She decorated everything in the house, especially the little Christmas tree in the living room. Lots of presents were tucked under the tree already and, of course, Santa would be bringing even more later on. Reynolds made another face at Ali and went down the hall to his room.
“Mom, I’ve got a couple presents to wrap---be out in a while”, he said shutting his door against any intruders, especially his little sister.
Ali took her bath, got dressed in her beautiful dragon jacket from Uncle Dan and some clean overalls, and came out to the living room. Her mother always played pretty Christmas music on the record player in between rushing around in the kitchen trying to prepare dinner. Caroline Spain, Ali’s mom, was down on her knees near the Christmas tree putting the picture of her husband next to the old plaster Santa that had one arm upraised as if saying “Merry Christmas!” Ali’s father was almost never at home. He was “on the road” in a show her mother explained. George Spain, Ali’s father, was a singer. A long time ago when Ali was quite little, she could remember him singing a song called “It’s Gonna Be a Great Day.” He would sing the words and then hit a note on the piano over and over. If it wasn’t for the picture her mother put under the tree, it would be hard to remember exactly what he looked like.
“Hello,” came a familiar voice from the front door “anybody home?”
“Come on in, come on in,” Caroline yelled from the kitchen. In came all the relatives, talking and pointing, laughing and walking into the kitchen where Caroline was busy preparing dinner. Hugs all around and for Ali an occasional pat on the head.
“Well, you cleaned up pretty good, my little wild child,” said Grandma Agnes with a sniff. She had dropped off Ali, then gone back home to wrap those presents that she was so upset about. Uncle Mack, grandma’s brother, was right behind her.
“Well how is my little San Fernando Ali? Still shooting desperadoes in the neighborhood?” Uncle Mack was funny. Everyone always laughed when he called her “San Fernando Ali.” He couldn’t hear too good. Ali had to yell back, “Hi Uncle Mack.” Aunt Lurline, grandma’s sister, looked down at Ali and for about the millionth time called Ali a little tomboy and was off to the kitchen to help Caroline.
“Uncle Dan”, Ali yelled as she ran toward her very, very tall uncle. His head almost reached the ceiling!
“How’s my little niece?” Uncle Dan reached down and swooped Ali high into the air.
“I scraped my knees when I fell off the swing at Mrs. Amity’s,” Ali said as she pointed down at her knees. “Let me kiss them,” said Uncle Dan.
“I see you’re wearing that pretty little jacket I sent you from Korea.” That was the place on the globe that looked like a dragon, Ali thought. Uncle Dan then lifted
Ali up to the ceiling like an airplane and flew her around the living room as she stretched out her arms and yelled “Zoom, zoom ----ouch,” as she accidentally bumped her knee on Uncle Dan’s head.
“Careful, or you’ll crash the plane kid,” Uncle Dan joked.
There was lots of activity in the kitchen. All the women were grabbing this bowl or that bowl to help prepare the dinner. The men were putting together a makeshift table in the living room. “OK everybody, to the table now, time to say grace,” said Caroline. The family took their places around the table and placed their napkins in their laps and then looked at Caroline. There were only seven people around the table, but it was wonderful to see everyone, all gathered together. It was so rare that everyone was together. Caroline started to say grace, but stopped as she looked at Reynolds.
“Don’t touch anything on the table until we give thanks,” instructed Caroline with her head bowed, but with her eyes fixed on her son. Reynolds put his hands back down in his lap. Ali smiled and thought at least her mother saw that---- he doesn’t always get away with stuff like reaching for the drumstick first.
“Thank you for all our blessings and for our family gathered together this Christmas Eve night and for those far away,” Caroline said as everybody nodded their heads in agreement. “And may George’s show do well, and be a big success for him,” she added with a smile.
As everyone began to pass the food around the table, Caroline asked if they liked the music she had just begun playing on the record player.
“What on earth is that music----it isn’t Christmassy,” pointed out Aunt Lurline in her snippy, old-fashioned way.
“It’s the Broadway album of “Kismet”, George’s show,” responded Caroline.
“Kiss who?” asked Uncle Mack while dipping into the mashed potatoes. He held his hand up to his ear since he couldn’t hear so well.
“Kismet”----it’s the name of George’s show. It just opened a couple of weeks ago on Broadway.”
“What a silly name for a show. What does “Kismet” mean anyway?” Aunt Lurline said.
“It means something like destiny or fate or the way things are. Listen to the music,” Caroline implored her family.
“Well, why then didn’t they call it “Destiny?” ‘Kismet’------that sounds foreign to me,” Aunt Lurline added disapprovingly. Ali looked at her elderly aunt and wondered if there was anything she did like. She always seemed to find fault with things. Ali’s favorite song from the record was the one where a man sang “Rhymes have I” with rhyming words like “a camel’s a mammal.”
Caroline gave up trying to play the “Kismet” music. She turned on the radio to a station playing Christmas carols and sat down at the table once again, wiping her brow lightly with her napkin.
“Such a good meal, Caroline, too bad George can’t be here,” said Grandma Agnes as she dished some cranberries on to her plate.
“So where is he now?” asked Uncle Mack learning forward so he could hear the answer.
“He’s in New York City”, answered Caroline.
“Where did you say he is?” said Uncle Mack again.
“NEW YORK CITY”, yelled Caroline so Uncle Mack could hear her. Ali softly said to herself “New York City”.
“Where is that, mother?”
“A long way away,” Caroline said wistfully. “I’ll show you on the globe later, Honey.”
“I don’t know why he leaves you here all alone to look after the kids while he goes all over the place singing songs. I never heard of such a thing. A family should stick together,” Aunt Lurline sniffed.
“He has a beautiful voice and singing in a Broadway show has always been his dream,” explained Ali’s mother.
“Yep, I remember,” said Grandma Agnes. “It was the day Ali was born when he announced that he got a job singing.” She said singing like it was a bad thing to do. “You remember Caroline, you had to remind him that Ali was just born,” Grandma Agnes added looking down at Ali like she was the reason George wanted to go away. Ali put her head down and kept hearing those words that Grandma Agnes said, “It was the day Ali was born.”
Suddenly Caroline said very loudly and with a hint of exasperation “Merry Christmas, everyone!” Caroline’s family looked at each other and quickly stopped asking about George. Ali noticed how her relatives quieted down, and began concentrating on eating instead of talking. After dinner, everyone moved into the living room to find a comfortable place to sit and open Christmas presents. Ali unwrapped her gifts and smiled at everyone, and gave each relative a hug and said thank you, but all she could think about was something about her father leaving when she was born.
That night when Ali went to bed, she held Smokey Bear extra close while looking out her tiny bedroom window at a couple of stars she could see. Her thoughts were jumbled with listening for Santa and wondering where was “New York City”? During the day Ali was so busy playing that she did not think about such things as why she went to boarding school during the week; why her father was never at home; why her mother sometimes seemed sad. But late at night as Ali lay in her bed, she thought about these things. Thank goodness Smokey was there to hold onto.
“Rhymes have I,” Ali sang slowly as she became drowsier. She had visions of her father’s picture under the Christmas tree all jumbled together with Smokey Bear saying “Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires”, and Reynolds’ head looking down at her as she played in the river, and Santa and Rudolph and all the other reindeer flying though the night sky above River Street.
Ali sleepily and softly mumbled her usual prayer, made all the more special because it was Christmas Eve:
“I wish I may, I wish I might,
have the wish, I wish tonight:
God, please bring Mother, Daddy, Reynolds
and I together, where we could all live in
the same place, all week long.
And with that wish, Ali’s eyes closed in sleep and Smokey silently tumbled from Ali’s hand to the floor.
* * * * *
5: “Chicken Heads and Walnut Shells”
“Kids, time to go to Grandma Nettie’s. I’m sure she’ll have some Christmas surprises for you,” said Ali’s mother. Ali loved Grandma Nettie very much; she was so different from Grandma Agnes. She didn’t ignore you. She talked to you. She had a few bony, dried-up heads of dead chickens in her backyard which was a little scary, but she also had hutches with little rabbits for Ali to pet. Grandma Nettie usually had a jigsaw puzzle with many tiny pieces scattered on her card table in the living room and the smell of hot coffee and freshly baked bread always filled her little house on Ranch Street.
When Caroline drove up the long driveway to Grandma Nettie’s little house, Grandma Nettie was pushing open the screen door to her cluttered, dusty, wooden porch where she would sometimes sit in her rocking chair at the end of a long day. She was wearing a brightly printed housedress without any rips. Most of her housedresses had little rips, especially under the arms, because of the work she did with her chickens and rabbits in the backyard. Her gray hair was swept up in a bun the way she always wore it, with just a little wisp of untamed hair falling on her neck. “Welcome youngsters”, she said as she hugged each one with her big, strong arms as they stepped out of the car.
“Come on in, Caroline----coffee’s on and presents are waiting to be opened”.
Reynolds whispered in Ali’s ear, “Bet you’ll get a dead chicken head for your Christmas present.”
“Bet you’ll get two”, retorted Ali. They took off running for the back yard to see the rabbits, and whatever else they could find in Grandma Nettie’s untamed jungle of walnut trees, rabbit hutches, and chicken pens . It was smelly back there, but fun. Ali went to the rabbit hutch right away, carefully opening the little wire door to pet Old Henrietta, her favorite rabbit. She could hear her mother and Grandma talking because the kitchen window was open. Sometimes it was interesting to listen to grown-ups (and sometimes, like when they were telling you to go to bed, not so interesting).
Grandma Nettie took Caroline’s arm and asked with a warm smile, “Have you heard from your errant husband lately”? They sat down at the kitchen table and had a cup of coffee.
“Sure did. He called early this morning to wish us all a Merry Christmas on the telephone. Couldn’t talk too long because of his concern about long-distance charges, but it was nice to hear from him, especially being Christmas and all. I miss him so much,” said Caroline with a sigh.
“That boy of mine; he can’t think of anything except singing right now. He’ll get his fill of the big city and show business and come back where he belongs one day.”
“I suppose,” said Caroline, not sure of what the future would be like.
“So are you still pounding that comptometer at the Chevrolet plant?” inquired Nellie as she gave Caroline a cup of coffee.
“Yep, still working in the office to keep a roof over our heads. I pick up the kids every week end. They have so much energy. It’s hard for one person to take care of everything. I hate boarding the kids out, but I’m so tired in the evening when I get home from work------it’s the best I can do right now,” responded Caroline with a guilty shrug.
“Honey, I know you do your best. I’m not judging you. Wish I could look after the kids for you, but I’m just too darn old and creaky. It’s all I can do to sell the eggs and walnuts I’ve got here on this little ranch of mine. Sure beats living in Naperville during those long winters when I was a kid.” Grandma Nettie was thinking about her own childhood, so many years ago.
“Although I do miss Mamma and Papa and all the others, I sure don’t miss all that snow! A fine howdy do, you and I missing everyone and moping around on Christmas Day,” Nellie said as she grabbed Caroline and hugged her once again.
“Where are those children?”----get in here kids and open your presents!” said Grandma Nettie with her booming voice out the kitchen window.
Ali and Reynolds came running from the backyard where Reynolds was searching for a few dried-up chicken heads which could sometimes be found near the old tree stump where their Grandma cut off the head of a chicken from time to time for dinner; most of Grandma’s chickens were for laying eggs and selling to locals. The chicken heads were mixed in with the walnuts that fell from the trees. The kids would stomp around and make crunchy sounds. Reynolds was trying to find a chicken head to toss at Ali and make her scream.
“Ali was listening to you talk from the window,” reported Reynolds right away when he came in the house.
“Don’t be a tattletale young man,” responded his mother. “Wash your hands, both of you. Time for a couple more Christmas presents.”
Ali looked up at her mother.
“What is it, Ali?”
“Are Reynolds and I like horses?”
“What on earth are you talking about, Ali?”
“On television, the cowboys board their horses in the stables.”
“She must have heard our conversation a little while ago when you said you hated boarding the kids out,” said Grandma Nettie with a little laugh.
“No, Ali. You are not like horses! Now go wash up, OK?” said Ali’s mother.
The kids rushed to the kitchen sink to wash up. Turning to Nellie, Caroline said, “that child, I think she watches way too many westerns on television!”
Despite Reynolds’ usual antics in the backyard, it was a magical Christmas evening-----a new carom board for Reynolds and a cowgirl hat for Ali. Grandma Nettie knew what Ali liked, unlike Ali’s Grandma Agnes who kept giving her dolls and handmade handkerchiefs; Grandma Nettie knew that Ali was a wild west girl who liked to climb trees, look for crawdads in the river and, of course, shoot at bad men. After dinner, the television was turned on, and everyone watched an old movie about a mean old man named Scrooge who did not like Christmas.
“How could anyone not like Christmas?” Ali asked Grandma Nettie as she yawned. Her Grandma just reached out and pulled her up on her lap and Ali drifted off to sleep.
* * * * *
6: “Returning Soda Pop Bottles”
When Ali woke up the next morning, she smiled and was happy to be at her real home, not Mrs. Amity’s. So many things to catch up on. She hurried to put on her new cowgirl hat that Grandma Nettie gave her, and went out to find her mother in the kitchen making pancakes. “Sweetie, go wash your hands and brush your teeth, before your eat breakfast,” her mother told her. That never made sense to Ali who thought that doing such things before going to bed at night was enough. But Ali decided not to give her mother any trouble; she was just happy to be home. By the time Ali got back to the little kitchen nook after hand-washing and teeth-brushing duties, the pancakes were ready for her. “Honey, you eat your pancakes while I read this letter from your father, OK?” While Ali ate breakfast she watched her mother read the newest letter her father had written. When he wrote long letters to her mother, he would tell her all about the cities he was visiting and the shows he sang in and all about the fun he was having. At the end of the letter her would tell Caroline how much he missed her.
“Did Daddy say anything about me?” asked Ali hopefully.
“Let’s see. Yes, right over here in the margin, he said give Ali a big hug from me.” Her mother pointed to the side of the letter where Ali’s name was located.
“What’s a margin, mother?” asked Ali.
“It’s the little space on the side of Daddy’s letters, Honey”. A new word for Ali: m-a-r-g-i-n. A little space, little, like Ali.
Ali was growing up in the margins of her family’s life. She lived in another family’s house during the week and came home on the weekends to watch her mother mow the lawn and clean house and add up numbers on a piece of paper----the amount of the bills. “With your father away on the road, I just can’t seem to do it all,” Ali’s mother would mutter while looking over at Ali, as if asking for some kind of understanding. Ali wanted to help, but she was only 7 years old. Her mother would read the letters over and over and she would laugh a little and then suddenly wipe a tear off her cheek. Ali’s father was a good writer. When her mother finished the letters, she would set them in a small basket by the picture of Ali’s father, on top of the piano in the living room. Her mother finished the letter and was placing it by George’s photo when she yelled out from the living room, “Ali, after you put you dish in the sink, why don’t you go out and play? Go find your brother and see what he’s doing.” Outdoors was always better than indoors. Ali wiped the syrup from the pancakes off her mouth in a hurry, grabbed her cap gun and raced out the door to spend her weekend shooting at bad men and exploring the neighborhood.
After the screen door slammed, and her mother yelled, “Ali for the umpteenth time. don’t slam that door!”, Ali took off running. She never was quite sure in what direction she would run. She simply decided as she went. Would it be the river? If her friend Jenny was out playing, she might stop and play with her. Would she venture three blocks away to Ventura Boulevard where all the shops were? She was told not to go there without
Reynolds, but Reynolds was nowhere to be seen, which was OK with Ali. When she was brought home from Mrs. Amity’s house the other day, she noticed that a new house was being built down the block. That was something to check on. The best thing about a new home being built, besides the smell of the sawdust which Ali loved, were the empty Coke and 7-Up bottles that could be found and returned to the market for money to buy candy. The new house it was, Ali decided. She had her cap gun to shoot badmen that might be lurking in the new house. No workers were there because of the holidays. Good, thought Ali, no one would shoo her away. Most of the kids in the neighborhood were with their families and playing with their new toys. Maybe a lot of the bottles would be there from the last day the workers had been there.
Ali looked around and since the coast was clear, she ventured into the new house which just had a lot of wooden boards nailed together at all kinds of funny angles. There were lots of nails lying all over the ground in the sawdust. The sawdust smelled so good, so fresh. Ali smiled; bottles were still littered all over the place.
She gathered up as many bottles as she could, stuffing some in her jacket and even trying to shove a couple in the top of her oversized boots which made walking difficult. Next stop, the supermarket.
Walking up to Ventura Boulevard wasn’t easy when your clothes are stuffed with bottles and your hands are gripping several more. Ali kind of clanked and stumbled as she made her way to the store and her hands were sticky with little bits of liquid still in the bottles. To the back of the store there was a man who worked behind a little half door that had a place to set bottles when they were returned.
“Well, young lady, looks like you need a little assistance there,” said the man behind the half-door; the bottom was closed, but the top was open.
“Clank,” one bottle fell and hit the floor, but didn’t break.
“Here we go,” the man said as he reached down and collected the bottles from Ali’s hands.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,” they counted as they set them all in a row.
“That’s a lot of bottles for such a little girl,” the man said smiling down at Ali. Ali got a handful of change and was ecstatic. Money for candy, or maybe later she would buy some ice cream when Good Humor man drove through the neighborhood in the afternoon.
“Thank you,” said Ali as she walked away, clutching her shiny coins.
“You’re welcome,” the man said.
As Ali was walking out the front door of the store, engrossed with all her shiny coins, she heard a familiar voice, “Hey, what are you doing here? Mom’s going to be mad if she finds out you came here without me”. It was Reynolds.
“Hey, how much money did you get?” he said, suddenly sounding a little friendlier.
“Let’s go back into the store and buy something,” he suggested.
Ali’s first thought was to not share. She did all the hard work, but she also knew her mother would be mad at her if Reynolds told on her.
“Well I don’t have that much, but OK,” Ali replied to her brother. After spending all the money on a Hershey bar, breaking it in half to share, and eating it on the spot, Reynolds suggested they get some more bottles.
“I think I got all the bottles at the new house----there aren’t any more there,” said Ali.
“I know where we can get some more. Follow me,” said Reynolds with great assurance.
Reynolds led Ali to the back of the market where all the returned bottles were stacked in wooden crates behind a rickety, old chain link fence.
“We’ll dig a hole under the fence and take some of those bottles. They have a ton of bottles back here. Who’ll know if we take a few?” Reynolds said to Ali. Ali was a little shocked at the idea, but intrigued. It wasn’t as bad as stealing cattle, and having the sheriff come after you she thought. She knew it was wrong, but the idea of some more money sounded good. She and her brother started digging under the fence, all the while looking around for anyone that might see them. There was just enough space to reach under and and start pulling a few bottles from behind the fence.
“See I told you it would be a cinch,” said Reynolds smugly as if he had done this before.
“You take them back in there and I’ll be the lookout,” he said shoving Ali in the direction of the store. Once again, she stumbled up to the half door and the man who took the bottles.
“You back already, little girl?” asked the man, tilting his head to one side.
“Yes”, was all Ali could say, starting to feel a little uneasy about this latest batch of bottles she was returning. She got her money, but this time it wasn’t as much fun. Something was bothering her. Did the man know why her hands were so dirty? Was he going to follow her outside the store? As Ali rounded the corner of the store to the back where Reynolds was, she saw him dragging out even more bottles.
“Here, I’ve got some more bottles for you, Ali,” said Reynolds.
“I want to go home now”, said Ali guiltily.
“What a scaredy cat you are,” he replied. Just then the back door of the market leading to the stacks of bottles opened, and the man who gave out the money for the returned bottles came out.
“Hey, you kids-----what are you doing back here?”
Ali knew when to run and “get out of Dodge” as she heard the cowboys on the television say. She started running back home. Reynolds reluctantly left his stack of bottles and took off not far behind Ali. Ali could still hear the man yelling after them and knew she would never be able to take empty bottles back there again.
* * * * *
Ali and Reynolds came running through the front door of their house. They stopped and listened for their mother. The sound of the lawn mower clicking away in the back yard could be heard. She was mowing the lawn.
“Don’t you tell her anything,” Reynolds said threateningly to his little sister. Ali was out of breath and just shook her head up and down in agreement with her brother’s demand. They both disappeared into their separate rooms.
Once in her room Ali started thinking about what to do. She wanted to hide the coins she received for the stolen bottles for two reasons. She didn’t want Reynolds to find the money, and she also knew there was something bad about the money, the way she got it and all. She put it in one of the pockets of her bathrobe in her closet. Her clothes and hands were dirty from all the digging for the bottles, so she dusted off her clothes and went down the hall to wash her hands in the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was still a little flushed, but at least it was clean. She quietly inched up to Reynolds’ door which was open a crack. He was calmly sitting on his bed looking through a “Boy’s Life” magazine without a care in the world.
Ali decided to go see her mother in the back yard. Maybe she could help her a little. She remembered earlier when her mother was reading the letter from her father and how her mother told her how hard it was to do everything with him gone so much of the time.
“Hi,” said Ali as she waved at her mother who was still pushing the old, noisy lawn mower around the back yard. Her mother gave a quick wave and continued cutting the grass. Ali surveyed their little yard. There really wasn’t much there to mow, patches of brown grass with occasional clumps of green grass. Her mother planted a few flowers near the windows called “Germans” which was funny because her mother said her family were Germans and came to America from a country called Germany a long time ago. It was confusing sometimes which is why her mother would point to the globe in the living room and show Ali where different countries were located.
“Yes”, her mother once told her, “here is where Grandpa came from. This is where the Germans live.”
“Mother, can I water the Germans for you?” Ali piped up.
“What?”
“Can I water the Germans by the window?” Ali’s mother stopped mowing, wiped her forehead with her bandana, and smiled at her daughter.
“Honey, those are called geraniums, not Germans----Germans are people from Germany, like Grandpa, and yes, you can water them for me.” Ali turned on the hose and watered the geraniums. A new word to know. It seemed like everyday there was something new to learn about.
“So how come our last name is Spain---are we from Spain---the place Christopher Columbus went to get money to come here to California?” Ali asked curiously. She knew these things from school and also from Uncle Mack who was always telling her stories about things that happened a long time ago.
By now, Ali’s mother was sitting on the stoop leading to the back door of the house and surveying her lawn mowing efforts while answering Ali’s questions.
“Christopher Columbus didn’t come to California, but you are right that he went to Spain to ask for money to sail to America. Your father’s last name of Spain might mean his family came from Spain, but we don’t really know, since that was so long ago.”
Ali thought about everything her mother told her.
Just then Reynolds who had been listening to his mother and Ali from his open window, yelled, “You’re so stupid, Ali. Watering Germans in the back yard. Give me a break!” He began laughing at Ali and taunting her.
“Enough, Reynolds,” said their mother “leave your sister alone”.
* * * * *
8: “Dick and Jane vs Alice in Wonderland”
What a wonderful week at home, except of course for Reynolds, Ali thought. Caroline had taken Ali and Reynolds to Griffith Park to ride the trains. Actually the trains didn’t go anywhere, but you could get on and off them and run all over the place. Ali and Reynolds had their picture taken with Santa at the Panorama City reindeer lot. They had also gone to Corriganville which was Ali’s absolute favorite place: cowboys, western streets, gunfights, riding horses, playing by the lake, going in the saloon for a root beer, running through the rocks on the hillside. It was all just like the westerns on television.
But it was Sunday, and getting close to the time they had to go back to the boarding homes where they lived during the week. It was always hard to get into the car on Sunday night and go back. Reynolds would often get quiet and moody on Sunday afternoon, and go to his room and shut the door. Ali would look at television, if any westerns were on, or through her two books that she was reading.
The school book was about a family. The kids were named Dick and Jane and Sally and there was a dog named Spot and a cat named Puff. The mother and father were always close by, teaching Dick and Jane and Sally about everything. Ali enjoyed reading the book, but when she looked at the pictures, she thought how different their home was from Dick and Jane’s. She’d look at the picture of the father smoking a pipe and sitting in his chair reading the newspaper in her book, and then look up at the picture of her father on top of the piano. She would love to have a real dog or cat, but her mother said that wasn’t possible with her working and Ali’s father gone most of the time, so Ali had to settle on her stuffed animals. Everybody in the pictures looked happy and always seemed to be nice to each other. Didn’t anybody cry? Did Dick and Jane always get along? They all lived together, all the time, in one house. It sure looked nice in the book.
The other book Ali enjoyed reading was Alice in Wonderland (she especially liked the pictures). In some ways she thought she was like Alice. Alice had adventures and was by herself a lot. Sometimes Alice cried and was confused. It was more real than Dick and Jane to Ali, and it definitely looked like more fun than Dick and Jane’s life.
“Honey, it’s time to go back to Mrs. Amity’s-----are you ready?----do you have your books?” asked her mother.
“Yes, I think so,” said Ali with a sigh.
“What are you thinking about?” inquired Ali’s mother after she noticed Ali looking at the cover of her two books.
“I’m thinking that it was nice that Dick and Jane and Sally lived at home all the time------but it seems like Alice had more fun than Dick and Jane. I think I’d rather be Alice”, said Ali.
* * * * *
9: “A Place called New York City”
Spring was in the air, and all attention was now focused on the coming of Easter. Each day Ali used her pastel-colored crayons to draw pictures of flowers, bunnies, or little yellow chicks for her mother. She would give them to her on Friday night when her mother came to pick her up. She was looking forward to hunting for Easter eggs in their backyard and the fun of being home for a whole week again.
Ali stood in the driveway of Mrs. Amity’s house, waiting for her mother. “HONK, HONK, HONK,” the familiar car horn sounded. Her mother was there to pick her up. Reynolds was in the back seat reading a comic book and ignoring her when she hopped into the front seat.
“Hi, Honey------- I have lots of exciting news to tell both you kids about!” said her mother right away. Ali looked back at Reynolds who shrugged his shoulders and shook his head from side indicating he didn’t know what the news would be.
“Mother, I have some drawings for you,” Ali said as she held up her folder of her Easter artwork.
“Sweetie, that’s wonderful. I’ll look at all of them as soon as we get home. OK?”
The drive home to River Street took about 10 minutes and Ali’s mother talked excitedly the whole time.
“I’ve been talking to your father each evening this week on the phone. He said it’s time that we all live in one place, together.”
That got Reynolds’ attention. Ali wasn’t sure about where that “one place” would be, but her heart began beating faster. Maybe her nightly prayer about her family living together, all in one place, all week long was coming true!
“As you both know your father in singing in a show in New York City------ he thinks the show will go on for a long time. He wants us to sell our house and go live with him. Won’t that be wonderful?”
Both Ali and Reynolds were listening to every word their mother said.
“New York City!” the kids said excitedly, almost at the same time.
“Remember, I showed you where it is on the globe? It’s a very big city a long way from the Valley where they have tall buildings to live in and big parks to play in. Best of all, we’d all be together,” replied their mother.
“Will anyone else be going with us?” asked Ali, thinking especially of her Grandma Nettie and Uncle Dan.
“Oh, no. They would never leave California,” said Ali’s mother, shaking her head from side to side.
“So, what do you two think?”
Ali’s mind wondered as she thought happily about them all being together, wherever that might be. She could only remember a few times when her father had been at home. Once, he had sung a song on the radio and won some things including a television set. Someone came to their house and took a lot of pictures of them all together. One of the pictures was of her family at the breakfast table in their little kitchen. They pretended to eat their cereal and drink their juice and were told to smile all the time. It was like the pictures in the Dick and Jane book. Everybody was together and smiling. It felt kind of funny. Ali was the only one who turned around to look at the man taking the pictures. It seemed odd to have someone take a picture of you while you ate your breakfast. It was the only picture they had of all of them together.
“Ali, Reynolds wants to go, how about you? What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking it would be ----exciting----but a little sad, too---to leave Grandma Nettie and Uncle Dan --- can I take Smokey the Bear and my cap gun with me?” Ali asked looking up at her mother.
“Smokey is fine, but we’re leaving all cap guns, bows and arrows and slingshots at home, Ali. You don’t need any guns in New York City. They have lots of policemen, and very few wild Indians.”
* * * * *
By summer, Ali’s mother had sold the house on River Street. One weekend when Ali came home, almost all the furniture was gone; it had been sold too. They still had their little table in the kitchen, and the stove, and their beds, but almost everything else was gone. Things sure looked different to Ali. It was a little scary to think of going someplace so far away, but as long as her mother was there, she knew it would be all right.
“Ali, answer the door. It might be some people answering the ad for the garage sale,” yelled her mother from the kitchen.
Ali let the people in and they began pointing to a few of the small things that were still left: a set of encyclopedias, some dishes, little figurines, a few pictures on the wall. One lady walked into the kitchen and picked up a dish and ask Ali’s mother, “How much?” Then the lady reached over to Smokey Bear that Ali had left on the table and again asked, “How much?”
“NOOOOOOO, not Smokey” shrieked Ali.
The lady looked down at Ali like she was a bad-tempered child.
“Smokey is not for sale,” said her mother as she reached over and handed Smokey back to Ali.
“Ali, take Smokey and go out and play now.”
Boy, that was close frowned Ali as she went running out the back door with Smokey in tow.
That evening Grandma Agnes came over to the house. She walked in and immediately started telling Ali’s mother how crazy it was to go to New York City.
“I’ll never understand how you can just leave California to go to that awful, dangerous big city with your children,” was the first thing out of her mouth. Ali was sitting at the table and listening to her grandmother and mother talking as she ate her bowl of Rice Crispies and drank her glass of milk with Br’r Rabbit molasses in it.
“You’ll live in some awful apartment that has bugs, I’m sure. What happens if the show George is in closes? Everything is covered in concrete. They don’t have grass and trees there. No place to go on picnics like Griffith Park. People are always shooting each other and hanging all their laundry out the windows. I’ve also read that there are baby alligators that come right up out of the toilets there. I know, I used to go to Chicago when I was a young girl. Cities are awful,” lectured Grandma Agnes while Ali’s mother was packing boxes.
“Look Mom, stop saying all those things. First of all, you’ve never been to New York City. Second of all, I want my family to all live together. The children need to have a father and I need to have my husband. If it’s New York City, or Timbuktu, I am taking the children and going to be with him. Bugs or not. Grass or not. Laundry hanging out of windows or not. George and I have been away from each other far too long.”
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