Tales From My Vault

Good-Bye Dwight

It was around 1957. Detroit. Picture if you will, this pretty cool “jungle” field (several vacant lots) on Grand River Avenue. Yeah, it was cool enough that Jim and his friends Dwight, and Gary didn’t mind riding their bikes the mile it took to get there and begin building their tree fort. The tree was a pretty good “climbing tree” - and with a hammer & nails, plus scrounged wood, they managed to build a rather nifty platform about 20 feet up.
On this particular Summer day, it was just Jim and Dwight up there, enjoying the scenery. A fresh warm breeze, a relaxing game of cards (Crazy Eights).
Good stuff.
As the morning edged toward noon, the sun began to get a little too warm. Dwight announced he was goin’ to another spot in the tree for shade and climbed off the platform. Jim decided to stay on the “fort” but removed his shirt for relief from the heat. He stood up and hung the shirt on a tree branch.

“Ah …much better!”, thought Jim as the breeze gently drew the heat from his moist torso. He felt very relaxed and comfortable out there in “the jungle” . Standing there, he contemplated the possibility of surrounding this fine platform with wooden walls, as he reached for the sun , stretching luxuriously and drifting into a nice long yawn.

What a life!
Jim’s reverie was interuppted by a loud crack and crunch of splintering wood. The floor swayed and the boy suddenly was in a dream.
BANG!
Something had smashed into Jim’s back and all manner of branches and leaves were furiously rushing around his body. He honestly believed he was dreaming especially when, in the midst of all these branches and leaves rushing away from him , a big close-up of Dwight’s face appeared but was rushing away so fast that it was, like, shrinking at an alarming rate. He reached out for the now tiny (and now gone) face ...and ever so gently said, “Good-bye, Dwight”.
Then … darkness. Total black.
The dream continued.
But no more rustling branches & leaves. Just black. It was like being a non-entity ..yet a presence …in space.
Dark. Nothing to see .
He became aware of a distant sound of automobile traffic.
And then Dwight’s voice. Very far away but recognizable. Dwight was trying to come back to Jim. Jim tried to call back but no sound could be made to pass his lips. Dwight’s voice was closer now.

“Jim! JIM ! Are you all right?!”

Jim opened his mouth to yell but still he couldn’t seem to form words or even expell air!
Then he began to feel things, …pressures. He felt the broken logs and glass under his prone body. He suddenly tasted something salty in his mouth and he became aware of the feeling your eyelids have when they are closed.
He opened them. Voila ! When the sunlight got inside Jim’s head, everything sounded close and loud again. The senses accellerated. A pain enveloped the boy that caused him to groan pitifully. He lay there and looked up, straight into into Dwight’s saucer eyes. Those eyes looked so big. Dwight was talking again.

“Are you O.K. Jim ?”

And Jim answered.

“What the Hell happened?!”.

Dwight’s eyes got normal and he started laughing. Jim wanted to tell him to shuddup but it hurt too much. He had somehow bitten his toungue.
The next few minutes were spent slowly acclimating to the news that he had fallen and been knocked out.
Wow.
Knocked out.
That’s cool.
Like in the cowboy movies!
While Jim was “out”, Dwight had run to a gas station to get help but when he got there he became too frightened to tell anyone what happened. He had returned, and simply talked to Jim until he opened his eyes.
That was nice.

That evening, the boys couldn’t stop gabbing about and reliving the event. Their families were not that impressed, frankly, with this ”tall-tale” …and the kids weren’t sure they believed it themselves !!
At length, their chatter fell to silence. Dwight’s expression became serious, perhaps even troubled.
Then he asked a question that had been plaguing him for quite some time.

“Hey, Jim. Did you …. Did you … When you were falling…. Did you say..” .

At this moment, the dream came flooding back into Jim’s consciousness and he began to wonder …

“No! “, thought Jimmy. “I couldn’t’ve!!”.

The boys stared at each other.

“Goodbye, Dwight.” volunteered Jimmy .finally.

Dwight’s eyes became saucers again.
The lads screamed simultaneously and laughed ‘til their stomachs ached (which for Jimmy, was immediate !!).

The Dance

a late 50's Norman Rockwell's America. Detroit. Brightmoor community.

Jim and Bill were a team. Not a very accomplished team ...but
Inseparable non-the-less. They thought they had INVENTED mischief and madcap humor, never tiring of revelling in each other's observations of life.
But what totally obsessed them was GIRLS. They were experiencing
that first 'change of life' and all they EVER talked about ( when they were serious)
was ...how t'get the girls.
Yep. They were clue-less "romeo wannabees".
Hopelessly devoted to (but terrified of) the opposite sex.
Not of much help was Bill’s peculiar habit of leaning forward (ala Quasimodo)
when he walked. Being very self-conscious about his portruding tummy , he thought the leaning (with his loose shirt falling forward) minimized his defect. He never considered that the good could be outweighed by the bad.
Jim called bill "Ape”. But then Jim had his own problems. He had pointed ears! And such tiny wrists he thought he was a freak of nature!
The occasion, on this sunny Spring morning, was a co-ed gym class at Burt School. No athletics today. Dance lessons. The box step waltz. Boys and ...GIRLS!
Bill ended up partnered with Sharon Hill ....a fine looking fox by any standards. Jim was with Barb Gire, a very nice girl who, at 14 years of age, could easily have passed for 9 … maybe 10 years, tops.
Jim couldn't help feeling a bit jealous of "Ape" now lumbering around with that fine, fine girl in his arms.
With much envy, Jim studied the pair covertly - not wanting either of them to notice his attention.
Suddenly , Jim's worst nightmare happened. Sharon put her cheek up to Bill's cheek. They made contact ...and stuck!!
Bill became very excited. He wanted, nay, NEEDED for Jim to see THIS. A kwik glance in Jim's direction disappointingly revealed that the boy was not watching and had not witnessed this miracle (or so Bill thought). He immediately began navigating the poor fox towards Jim (who began navigating HIS poor girl away from them!!).
The ape was NOT going to let this event go unnoticed. He doggedly increased his navigational speed til' it went far beyond what Jim had the nerve to employ. Finally Bill "overtook his prey".

"Pssssst....…..Hey Jim!" he whispered , in a rather noisy manner. No response from Jim who seemed to be looking everywhere but the right direction.

"Jim. .... JIM!!" , Bill hissed louder. Jim was beginning to feel embarrassed but he was NOT going to give in.

“HEY! JIM!!!!" Bill, practically yelling now, began KICKING Jim's leg !!

All this while dancing .….cheek to cheek. Heaven !!

Needless to say, the bliss never really progressed beyond that…
climactic moment .

Heh, heh, heh!
yeah, young "Ape" could be crude. A born clown.
….and being insane didn't hurt - either !!

S'Not Funny!

The year was around 1956. Burt School in Detroit again. Jim was in about the 6th grade and on this particular day, his regular home-room teacher, Mrs. Hanson, was absent. Jim had arrived at an age where it was no longer the “in” thing to be smart in school, but rather “cool”. And with a substitute teacher in the classroom, the temptation was ever present for a rather inexperienced “cool” Jim to ply his talents for the benefit of his otherwise bored classmates. Several “cool” dudes had already warmed up the audience with their little stunts of rude and disruptive behaviour and Jimmy wondered what he might do to contribute to this growing festive mood in the classroom. It was like, “oh boy! Substitute teacher! Let’s all be in a festive mood!”.
Yeah, right.
A festive mood for everyone but the poor woman in charge of these brats.
As young Jim pondered the situation, Bobby Hughes, who sat in the desk immediately in front of him, suddenly spun around on his bottom and faced Jimmy. Jim could see that he was holding a red marking pencil.
Bobby extended the marker towards Jimmy’s face.

“He wants me to flinch.”, thought Jim.

In the 50’s, making someone “flinch” or pull-back in fear, was ”cool”. It was also a “put-down” for the victim.

“I will not flinch”, thought Jim. He determined that even if Bobby put a mark on his face, he wouldn’t bat an eye.

So …Bobby proceeded to draw all over Jim’s face. Short, experimental lines. Long winding lines. Horizontal. Vertical. Diagonal. And all with an expression of seriousness and determination. An artiste at work. And …all to the tune of female classmates trying to hold down their titters and giggling. Even Jimmy pretended to be amused (though he didn’t like his face being written on one bit). After a considerable time, Bobby finished and turned back around. Jim now imagined that his face looked like a road map showing highways going here, there, and everywhere!

Some kids around him were smirking and chuckling. Wherupon his plan to be “cool” hatched in a burst of youthful genius!
He had an excellent reason to wash his face. He would simply and boldly walk out of the room and head for the lavatory. Naturally the teacher would stop him before he got to the door and demand to know what he thought he was doing. He would simply tell her that he had to wash his face. He would then face the audience, which in turn would convulse in laughter and the frustrated teacher would be forced to let this idiot go wipe the roadmap off his head. A perfect plan and Jimmy would be the “coolest” one in class. Well …for a day, anyway!

Jimmy stood up and began the walk.

He felt a wave of stage fright as he realised how loud his shoes were on that old wooden floor. In those days, one of the things kids did to be “cool” was to go to a cobbler and have him nail steel cleats to the heels and toes of the bottoms of their shoes. This gave the audio effect of a tap dancer walking around and it was considered very cool by some of the kids. Jimmy had cleats on his shoes(!). And now in the silence of the classroom they seemed much louder then they were ever meant to be.

Everyone was watching. Even the substitute teacher stopped to watch and Jimmy wasn’t even half way through the room! In what seemed like minutes, he arrived at the door. As he reached for the knob, the sound of his noisy flamingo shoes was suddenly drowned out by a booming voice.

“Young man! Young man!! And where do you think you are going?!”, bellowed the rather intimidated (and intimidating) teacher.

“I’m going to the bathroom”, announced Jimmy, “to wash this!!”. As Jimmy said, “to wash this!” he turned to his classmates theatrically, if not overdramatically sweeping his hands toward his face.

All the kids were watching and when Jimmy did his Oliver Hardy flourish, they broke into fits of boisterous laughter that would have made David letterman envious!!
Jim was overwhelmed with this response!

It was worth the nervousness. He was a hit …and a big one at that! He decided he should let the kids know that he was laughing too but not really outright laugh …cause that would get him in big trouble with the teacher. So he did one of those stifled laughs thru the nose. You know, that one short huff through the nostrils while you make a pained expression that tells everyone in sight that you are trying really hard not to laugh. So he did this big snort and a giant load of snot shot out through both hatches - like rubber cement!!!

Not a clean break either! The two globs hung there from “cool” Jimmy’s nostrils and slowly stretched til’ they reached the navel area and began to swing back and forth!! If Jim was a big hit before ... he was a monster hit (and a legend) now!!!

The laughter and outright screaming was deafening and the teacher was forced to shriek as loudly as her lungs would allow, “Go! Go!! GO !!!”.

Jimmy clicked and clacked down the hallway, shuddering. There was a disturbing ringing in his head. He felt like this wasn’t really happening and decided , for his sanity,to pretend that it wasn’t .

When he arrived at the boys john, he went directly to the mirror to inspect Bobby Hughes’ cruel artwork.

No roadmap. No lines. Nothing. Just a clean face with a trace of “runny nose” from the short stand-up routine.

“God!”, Jimmy thought. “What could be worse?!”

Jim felt himself begin to go insane.

Later at the dinner table, he told his family about the whole rotten, humiliating experience.

Everyone laughed again! Everyone, that is, except Jim’s father. He just sat there with a sad smile.
Just sat there.
Everyone went silent as all watched Dad and waited.
Finally Dad opened his mouth. He closed it again shook his head and spoke.

“ …..Geez.”. He took a long breath and sighed before finishing his speech, “Wow. You know, that’s …a disgrace to the name of Vanhollebeke”.

And Jimmy realised that he had ruined the family’s name.

The End.

The Old Ridenhour Witch

Here's the set up: Your name is Jimmy . You're young and skinny.
And though "a little dab'll do ya", you've got a quarter tube of Brylcream caked into your already greasy hair.
You're a mess!
O.K.
So you know who you are now?
Great.
Now imagine that it's 1961 and you (me) ....are a student in Detroit's Redford High School.
Do you remember?!
Remember the ugliest ...scariest, ...the meanest teacher of all?
Old Miss Ridenhour!
(shudder).......

GOD! She was HORRIBLE. UGH !!!
Remember that portrait of George Washington that was on the wall
directly behind her? It looked EXACTLY like her!
And how BITTER she was........the sarcasm would drip from her lips
like poison! You were actually afraid of her. She reminded you of a
witch!
You'll never.... EVER... ferget her reading that poem to you and your English class. The one that compared teenagers to cows.
It had started innocently enuff. Country scene. Pastures. Blue skies. Cattle grazing. Summer breeze.

You even wondered , …. "Why is she reading this poem? Is she in love??”
Remember near the end of the poem, when she stopped reading and stared at her captive and bewildered audience?
That final line will remain with you for ETERNITY:

"........and the only difference between the cow chewing his cud and
the teenager chewing his gum............ is the THOUGHTFUL look in the cow's eyes!"!

That was the first (and last) time you EVER saw her smile.
And if ever there was evil in a smile(!)

A Letter to Leslie

Dear Leslie,

I’m so tired of O.J.T. (On the Job Training) .
This morning I really messed up. I had to go to work early ‘cause four generators were going out to the ranges at 6:45 a. m. .
To start with, I was late and all 4 of the generators were already on the loading & unloading platform ( or deck or whatever it is …). So, I went and got a couple cans of gasoline and proceeded to fill the first tank. Well, some jerk had left the drain hose open and gas started spilling right out as fast as I poured it in. So I real quick went to pull the nozzle out of the tank and the nozzle got caught in the tank and therfore, the nozzle came right off the can! Then a bunch of gas went spraying all over - most of it landing on this guy’s face who’s trying to turn off the drain valve for me.
“Thanks!”, he said.
But I just ignored him. I was too embarassed to accept the fact that this had really happened. In fact, I even pretended to turn off the drain valve (which he had already closed) as if this guy had never been there! And then I proceeded to fill the tank again. I had wasted so much time already … I really let the gas pour in. And soon the tank was full - and I was still …really letting that gas pour in !!
What a mess! I proceeded to fill the other generators without much further slapstick. Then I had to start each one to make sure it would run satisfactorily.
Now good old Eastham had told me yesterday, not to use the choke anymore cuz of the hot weather. So I spent about 10 minutes on each generator before I could get it started. While I was sweating unsuccessfully over the fourth generator, a bayonet instructor came up and said, “ Look. I’m no generator man, but …”.
He flicked the choke switch and yanked the rope.
VROOOOM !!!
I stood there.
Sweat actually dripping from my face. Wet shirt sticking to my skin.
That wonderful experience was now behind me …yet it mocked me, dangling in front of my vacant eyes like a bad movie repeating this lousy scene. Over and over.
I miss you.

All my lovin,
~jimmy

Going & Coming (And Coming & Going!)

The year was 1983 (or thereabouts) .
Jim and Leslie had crammed the luggage and their 3 kids, Joey (8 years), Danny(6) and Kaci-Anne(4) into the family wagon and were on their way to the vacation mecca of everything that is decent and American.
DISNEYWORLD!
They had gotten out of Michigan , completed Ohio, and were well into Kentucky when Jim began to have misgivings.
The kids were acting up.
“Acting up” is a polite phrase for attempting to murder one another.
It began with Joey and Danny. They had gotten fed up with sitting still, all crammed together with Kaci-Anne on the rear seat. They imagined some extra space due them was being robbed by the other and proceeded to strangle one another . This particular behaviour is a form of insanity closely related to “cabin fever” . Many parents are familiar with this. Leslie recognised the symtoms immediately and administered the ‘antidote’, telling the boys there were sandwiches in the cooler. This indeed soothed their savage souls, at least for a while.
Actually, Jim was pretty good at psychology himself.
He mentioned very quickly, and with much volume, that the trip could very easily be aborted by simply turning the car around and going home.
Of course, all these “cures” were temporary and soon the yelling and violence had returned. The insanity was infectious and Jim was beginning to feel the urge to become physically involved.
But he kept his cool and simply yelled,“That’s it ! No more !! If I hear one more scream or one more peep out of any of you …we go home!
NOT ONE PEEP.
PERIOD !!!”.
The following 5 or 10 minutes of silence was like a godsend.
Then …… the scream.

It was Kaci-Anne this time, now sobbing uncontrollably. Jim looked in the rear view mirror for a quick evaluation of 3 faces.
Kaci at one end crying. Joey at the other end, looking nervous. And Danny in the middle (next to Kaci) , hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes rolled slightly heavenly. A lovely smile on his face. Anyone who didn’t know Danny would have said he looked angelic!
With much effort, Jim suppressed all instincts to react and drove on silently. Kaci got control of herself and soon the car was quiet once again.
When the next exit became available, Jim swerved in and turning the vehicle Northward, he re- entered the freeway in the opposite direction.

They were going home.

No one spoke.
The seconds dragged into minutes and when a full quarter hour had passed, Jim began to get nervous.
His revenge was now satiated. He wanted to turn around again. But how? What would be his excuse?! If only one of the kids would do a speech.
Or a promise of good behaviour.
An apology.
That would be fine!
Finally, Joe’s gentle voice broke the silence.
“Dad ..….come on…….”.
“Good enough!”, thought Jim to himself and without further conversation or incident the the quest for Disneyworld was resumed.

They arrived quietly and safely at the Magic Kingdom and experienced many wonderful things.
A week passed and they were coming home again.

Really coming home.
The trip was peaceful. Everyone was exhausted. They were going thru Kentucky again.
A feeling of satisfaction drifted throughout Jim’s mind. Everyone had had a good time. Just a matter of getting home safely now.
Kids sleeping.
Leslie looked at the gas gauge which had sunk to near empty and suggested that they needed to stop to refuel. They were entering the outskirts of a town with frequent exits. No real danger of running out of gas. In fact the very next exit had a sign for gas and they arrived at the station within a couple minutes.
With the tank filled, the sleepy troop was soon back on the freeway and quietly humming homeward.
Jim began reminiscing about the Disney World Haunted Mansion. How’d they get that ghost in there between him and Kaci?!
That was really neat!!
His quiet reverie was shattered by a seemingly alarmed Leslie.
“WHERE’S JOE??!”
‘Huh? …Where’s Joe??? What kinda’ question is THAT?’ thought Jim. ‘Where the hell do you think he is?! He’s right here in the … in the …. YIKES!’
After several head counts of the 2 children in the car and a quick “process of elimination” Jim finally realised that Joey was not in the car!
Jim was speechless but managed to sputter, “Well, where the heck IS he?! He was here a while ago!”.
“The gas station!!” yelled Leslie. “Turn around . Go back!!”.
“Go back??! Go back where?!! Where ARE we??! What EXIT did we get OFF at??!”
Of course no one knew ANY of those answers and they had to rely on God to guide them back to that very gas station, ..… which he did perfectly.
What a wecome sight driving up to Joey, sitting there on the curb, waiting patiently for his absent minded family to return. Sitting there, in his bare feet, in that little town, …on that little hill in Kentucky!
When Joey was safely back in the vehicle, both parents silently counted the children (as if one of them might have gotten away again!) and for the final time, the car turned around and headed, (once again) for home.

And yes, they eventually arrived home and had nice dreams that nite.
The End.

The Guardian of the Bones

It was the summer of 2000 and Jim, at age 55, now considered himself as an unrecognized but talented paleoanthropologist (as well as a starving singer-artist-writer-genius!). He had finagled an invitation to the exclusive Anthropology Research Department of the internationally reknowned American Museum of Natural History in New York City , a result of his request for permission to photograph the most important fossil hominid skull casts in the world. Of course he didn’t have any kind of photographic equipment for such an undertaking. So (in a stroke of genius) he decided his daughter’s video camera with it’s close-up capabilities - would suffice nicely.
The event was framed into a family vacation to New York where Jim was accompanied by his wife Leslie, daughter Kaci-Anne, and son & daughter-in-law Joe and Beckie. Beckie made all the transportation and hotel arrangements and managed to keep big ol’ Jim not only from getting lost but on time and at the museum on the appointed date!
At the museum Jim had to get in touch with Mr. Mowbray of the Anthropology Department. This proved very difficult as the department was on the 5th floor. High security and strictly off limits to the general public. But after several security guard phone calls and miscellaneous comedic snafus, Jim actually found himself shaking hands with Mr. Mowbray and being escorted up to the hallowed 5th floor hall that eventually led to the department. And there at the end of the hall, thru an open door on the left was … the museum’s private (and priceless) hominid (family of Man) fossil vault.
In this room, on rows and rows of shelves - stacked some 12 feet high - are stored the thousands of skulls and bones that make up the planet’s collection of Man’s distant past.
To say that Jim was nervous and excited would probably be an understatement of magnitude similar to the size of this very collection !!
Mr. Mowbray asked Jim which relics he would wish to study and photograph. Jim meekly handed him a list of about 20 of the most famous evolutionary finds in the history of archaeology ! He was genuinely shocked when, after reading the list, Mr. Mowbray replied, “No problem.” . He sat Jim at a very large antique table at the end of the hall where a big window would allow plenty of sunshine to illuminate the treasures that were about to be produced. Mr. Mowbray started shuffling a ladder around the cramped vault of bones and began the arduous process of one by one loading that table with simple cardboard boxes (boxes that contained the objects Jim had wanted to see for over 45 years ! ).
After some 10 or 15 minutes - all of the artifacts had been located and were now transferred to Jim’s makeshift photography studio in that old musty hallway. Jim, drooling, began reading the labels. He actually trembled when he removed one particular skull from it’s dusty box. It was the “Holy Grail” of human ancestors. An ape-man known to science as KNM WT 15000AB, Homo Ergaster-Erectus. 1.6 million years old. 95% complete …and in darn near perfect condition !! Jim cradled it in his hands and viewed it from every conceivable angle. He marveled at the unique features and primitive beauty that two-dimensional textbook photos could never display .
Jim got out the video camera and began an exploration that within 2 hours would leave him exhausted and highly satisfied. An exhilarating sense of “mission accomplished!” filled his heart. He marvelled at the circumstance that forced him to use a VIDEO camera to photograph these special treasures. The “movie” effect of panning the camera and walking it around individual specimans had given him potentially thousands of individual shots and enough material for several lifetimes of future study and reflection !!!
As he rested and considered all these good things, Jim’s wandering eye took him to an open doorway directly across the hall from the vault room that Mr. Mowbray had so graciously pillaged for him earlier.
Camera in hand, Jim approached this doorway and peeked inside.
“Geez ‘O’ God!” , he whispered to no one in particular. He had wandered into the Preparator’s Research and Restoration Room. It was heaven ! Skeletons. Skulls. Craniums, mandibles, models, apes, hominids, humans !! Oh my ! Apes, Hominids and Man! OH MY !!!
Suddenly the video camera was off and running again! And Jim was on the yellow brick road capturing everything . He wanted to stay there forever !
Look! Peking Man! Closeup. Pan right. Top view. Looky there! The Taung Child ! OH !! Australopithecus Africanus! There’s an adult bust reconstructed with muscles and skin !! On and on and on. Everywhere he looked.
Oh my!
And the camera whirred. Jim felt like a kid in a candy shop. And all these images being sucked into his wonderful video box to keep forever! It was like magic. He continued to video here, there …everywhere, feeling weak with satisfaction.
As he began taking his final shots in the rear of the room, he heard behind him, the sound of feet shuffling to an abrupt halt.
He turned around. There, silouetted in the sunshine of the open doorway, was a tall and ominous figure.
“What are you doing !? Taking pictures?”
“ Well ….I …the door was…”, began a startled Jim.
“No, you can’t do that.” Droned the grim stranger. “Sacred bones. There are laws. We have Indian bones here. Can’t be photographed. I must take the film.” (!!!).
The words echoed in Jim’s throbbing head.
Over and over. “must take the film’. “must take the film”, “must …take…”
“No….” replied Jim (as he slid into shock). “Nooo !! I don’t know anything about any Indians! No!! I ….I …I …good lord !!! …..(choke…..)”.
Jim felt his vision blurr as he began to lose consciousness.

VOLUME 2

By Jim Vanhollebeke