Herr Drosselmeier
July 15th, 2006, 06:59 AM
Dear friends,
I have a new story for you. I hope you enjoy it.
Best Regards,
HD
Something Lost Something Found
Steering my truck down the street toward their house, I could see Nichole watching with anticipation from the living room window. At the moment of recognition her face brightened. Soon she was bounding down the front steps to greet me. Her young brother Tim followed at her heels. In a tight embrace we negotiated the path to the house. I mostly carried them; their feet barely touched ground.
Now my sister, sporting a broad smile, stood at the top of the stairs. “Go easy on your poor uncle; he’s not so young anymore!”
I returned her smile. “Yes, but remember, I’m five years younger than you.” I turned to Nichole. “Speaking of old age, how’s the ten year old?”
“Not ‘til tomorrow,” she giggled.
“We’re having Nickie’s birthday party tomorrow and you’re coming,” Tim chimed in.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.”
Tim turned back to look at the bright red truck parked in front of the house. “Where did you get that big truck?”
“At the big truck store. Your mom asked me to bring it so we can carry home a bunch of stuff for the party.”
Tim loved any kind of vehicle. He collected model cars and had dozens of picture books about vintage automobiles. He flushed with excitement. “Will we get to ride in it?”
“Of course. Don’t I always take you guys on an adventure when I visit?”
Nichole and Tim turned to each other and smiled.
A few hours later, the kids and I raced out of the house, back toward the truck. Their mom called from the front door, “Don’t be gone too long, we still have to pick up the chairs.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “It will all get done.”
The truck’s doors closed with a solid thump. Nichole and Tim stared at me expectantly. They remembered the ritual we followed when we went on an outing; I wouldn’t reveal our planned destination until we were under way. The ritual had developed partially because I thought it was fun to enhance the mystery and expectation, but often because I, myself had not yet figured out where to go. The odd thing was that despite the lack of planning, we always had a special time.
This time things seemed to be getting off to a slow start. I didn’t feel the usual spark of inspiration that had guided us in the past.
Tim broke the silence. “So, where are we going?”
“Good question,” I thought. “Have faith,” I told myself. Another minute of silence went by. “Where do you guys want to go?”
Tim thought for a moment. “To the toy store!”
Nichole seemed disappointed. Apparently, the crass consumerism of her little brother’s answer lodged uncomfortably in her gentle heart.
Nichole searched for the right words to express her feeling. “I was hoping that we would do something more, I don’t know, real.” There was my inspiration! I knew that I had to pick up some extra chairs from the restaurant for the guests at Nichole’s party. What could be more real than bringing the kids along while I did my work? Something about if felt extremely right.
Tim tried once more. “So what about the toy store?”
I smiled. “We don’t need to buy a lot of stuff.” My intuition spurred me on to add, “Maybe we’ll find something even better.” Nichole smiled and I put the truck in gear.
After venturing only about a half hour outside of the Nichole and Tim’s comfortable suburban neighborhood, we were in a declining part of the city. The children looked wide-eyed out of the truck’s windows. “We’ve never been here,” whispered Nichole.
They had certainly heard many stories about the restaurant, but no one had ever deemed it necessary or perhaps appropriate to bring them. Something in my heart told me it would be all right.
After two stellar careers, when everyone expected that Grandma would settle down and retire, she opened the restaurant. In a way, though, it shouldn’t have been a big surprise. Grandma loved to cook and be creative. It was her nature to remain active. When she was a young girl, her parents and grandparents had owned a restaurant. When Grandma opened the restaurant, she loved to joke. “Look, I’ve come full circle!”
My cousins and siblings spent a lot of our youth hanging around the restaurant. Even though it was a business, Grandma usually gave us free run of the place. We all have fond memories of our escapades, lurking about the dining rooms and kitchen. Most often though, when we got a little too excited or boisterous, we were quarantined to the “office” where we couldn’t cause too much trouble. The office became our clubhouse. It was the site of so many of our intrigues and adventures. It was the epitome of our shared youth and the closeness of our family bond.
Initially, the restaurant was quite successful. It specialized in unique salads and appetizers. Many consider it to have been the archetype for the salad restaurants that are ubiquitous today. After Grandma could no longer work there, my uncle ran it for a while, but as the neighborhood declined, it became increasingly difficult to keep it open. It has been closed for many years now. We all lie to ourselves that it would be impractical to sell the land. We tell ourselves that the neighborhood may revitalize, but in our hearts we know that we can’t part with it for sentimental reasons; we have too many memories there; we may be dispersed, but it is still a link that binds us.
Turning the key, I opened the squeaky door and guided the children in. Despite the years of disuse, the main room, which was now illuminated solely by the skylights, still felt warm and inviting. Nichole and Tim looked about in awe. Nichole spoke first. She said, “This is Grandma’s restaurant.” I felt a pang in my heart.
“Actually,” I said, “your great-grandmother. Come on, you’ve got to see the office.”
The office with its high ceiling, wood paneling and quaint furnishings still had a clubhouse feel to it. It had been decorated this way before Grandma bought the restaurant. The most unique feature of the office was the great solid desk and shelving unit that was built into the far wall. Starting at the floor, there was a series of cubby-hole storage shelves that cascaded up in a staircase fashion. Joining a staggered honeycomb of cubby-holes above the desk, the entire structure was crowned, about halfway up the high wall, by three large shelves. These shelves were adjacent to each other, but they were all at different heights. The asymmetry added to the casual feeling of the décor.
When we were quite young, we realized that we could climb the cubby-holes, using them as a staircase. The desktop served as a landing from which one could ascend the honeycomb shelving which led to the top three shelves. A combination storage unit – jungle gym!
Around the time that Grandma acquired the restaurant and claimed that she had “gone full circle,” she again began wearing the dragon necklace that she had worn in her youth; the one her grandmother had given her. Grandma often let us wear it in the restaurant. It gave rise to a hilarious game involving the office structure. We would take turns wearing the necklace and ascend to the highest of the three shelves. We referred to these shelves as “the podium.” When one of us, wearing the necklace, stood on the highest podium shelf, the rest of us, with mock solemnity would simultaneously chant, “You have captured the gold!” The pomp and absurdity of the spectacle would launch the youngest of us into peals of laughter. Our parents never seemed to understand the hilarity of the game, but it never failed to double Grandma over with mirth.
One time, we goaded Grandma to climb to the podium. To our delight, despite her age, feigning great dignity, she climbed up to the desktop. At that point she turned to us and said, “I have captured the pewter.” We screamed with delight.
My cousin Johnny called out, “Grandma, why don’t you go higher?”
She cryptically replied, “Remember Icarus.” Of course, her wisdom was lost on the youngest of us. For months we greeted each other with the malapropism, “Remember Licorice!”
The day Grandma has ascended to the desktop, I later approached my older cousin Brian and asked him if he thought that Grandma hadn’t climbed higher because she was scared. It was the only time I ever saw Brian became angry. He looked squarely into my eyes, slowly saying, “Remember this. Grandma is never afraid of anything, and even if she was, it wouldn’t stop her from doing something that she wanted to do.”
“Then why didn’t she climb higher?” I asked.
“She didn’t want to show off.”
I somehow understood that Brian was absolutely correct.
Tim proved that he carried the legacy of the cousins, because seeing the staircase of cubby-holes he immediately climbed up to the desktop. The honeycombs and “podium” above the desk had been dismantled several years ago by my uncle, who relocated that part of the structure to his den. “Tim,” I said, “you have captured the platinum.”
“What?”
Just then I saw the desktop start to tilt. Apparently, it had once been anchored in place by the heavy honeycombs. Now that they were gone, the supporting structure had failed. I was able to grab Tim, just as the desktop came crashing to the floor.
“Man,” said Tim, “that was cool!”
“Are you alright?” Nicole’s calming voice was addressed to me, not to Tim. Nicole has this amazing quality about her. She is just a child, but when I am with her, I sometimes feel like she is the one who is taking care of me. In some ways, she actually reminds me a lot of Grandma, both emotionally and physically. The rest of us are fair, but Nichole, alone has long straight black hair and the most beautiful dark eyes.
Recovering my composure I said, “The real question is, how is Tim?”
“I’m fine,” he said, “I got the latinum, but I gotta use the bathroom – real soon.”
I suddenly realized our new predicament. The restaurant water was turned off; the bathrooms didn’t function. I remembered that there had been a public bathroom in the little park across the street. But how would I handle the logistics? In this neighborhood I would have to go into the bathroom with Tim, but what would I do with Nichole? I couldn’t leave her standing alone outside.
My wise niece immediately understood the predicament. “Take him,” she said. “You can lock me in here. I will be safe.” I was a little uncertain, but Nicole’s resolve finally won me over.
“OK,” I said, “but we’ll be right back.”
Not more then ten minutes later, Tim and I came rushing back into the restaurant. As we entered the office Tim greeted his sister with intense excitement.
“Nicole, we went to the bathroom and I found something, I found something! It was there when we crossed the street!”
“What did you find?”
Tim thrust out his hand. “Look, it’s the insignia from an old Chevy Corvette! Somehow it was just lying in the street!”
“That’s great,” said Nichole. I noticed that Nichole’s eyes were really sparkling. I thought to myself, “How nice that she is so excited for her brother.” But then I saw her hand behind her back, and from her mischievous smile, I knew that there was more going on.
Nichole said, “I found something, too.” She opened a tightly closed fist and in her hand I saw Grandma’s dragon necklace. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Where did you find it?” I was flabbergasted.
“I was looking in the hole, under where the desktop was, and I saw something shiny.”
Then I remembered, that years ago, the necklace became mysteriously lost. One of the cousins had been wearing it, we couldn’t remember who, and then the necklace was gone. Our parents were furious, but Grandma didn’t mind. She said, “Don’t worry, it will turn up.” After several months passed and no one found it, we figured that one of us had put it down on a table in the dining room and a customer had taken it home.
But now I realized that it must have fallen off one of us while we were on the podium. It must have dropped down behind the shelves and under the desk.
Nichole looked at me imploringly. “May I?”
I clasped the necklace around her beautiful dark hair and slender neck.
“Nothing would make Grandma happier.”
I have a new story for you. I hope you enjoy it.
Best Regards,
HD
Something Lost Something Found
Steering my truck down the street toward their house, I could see Nichole watching with anticipation from the living room window. At the moment of recognition her face brightened. Soon she was bounding down the front steps to greet me. Her young brother Tim followed at her heels. In a tight embrace we negotiated the path to the house. I mostly carried them; their feet barely touched ground.
Now my sister, sporting a broad smile, stood at the top of the stairs. “Go easy on your poor uncle; he’s not so young anymore!”
I returned her smile. “Yes, but remember, I’m five years younger than you.” I turned to Nichole. “Speaking of old age, how’s the ten year old?”
“Not ‘til tomorrow,” she giggled.
“We’re having Nickie’s birthday party tomorrow and you’re coming,” Tim chimed in.
“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.”
Tim turned back to look at the bright red truck parked in front of the house. “Where did you get that big truck?”
“At the big truck store. Your mom asked me to bring it so we can carry home a bunch of stuff for the party.”
Tim loved any kind of vehicle. He collected model cars and had dozens of picture books about vintage automobiles. He flushed with excitement. “Will we get to ride in it?”
“Of course. Don’t I always take you guys on an adventure when I visit?”
Nichole and Tim turned to each other and smiled.
A few hours later, the kids and I raced out of the house, back toward the truck. Their mom called from the front door, “Don’t be gone too long, we still have to pick up the chairs.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, “It will all get done.”
The truck’s doors closed with a solid thump. Nichole and Tim stared at me expectantly. They remembered the ritual we followed when we went on an outing; I wouldn’t reveal our planned destination until we were under way. The ritual had developed partially because I thought it was fun to enhance the mystery and expectation, but often because I, myself had not yet figured out where to go. The odd thing was that despite the lack of planning, we always had a special time.
This time things seemed to be getting off to a slow start. I didn’t feel the usual spark of inspiration that had guided us in the past.
Tim broke the silence. “So, where are we going?”
“Good question,” I thought. “Have faith,” I told myself. Another minute of silence went by. “Where do you guys want to go?”
Tim thought for a moment. “To the toy store!”
Nichole seemed disappointed. Apparently, the crass consumerism of her little brother’s answer lodged uncomfortably in her gentle heart.
Nichole searched for the right words to express her feeling. “I was hoping that we would do something more, I don’t know, real.” There was my inspiration! I knew that I had to pick up some extra chairs from the restaurant for the guests at Nichole’s party. What could be more real than bringing the kids along while I did my work? Something about if felt extremely right.
Tim tried once more. “So what about the toy store?”
I smiled. “We don’t need to buy a lot of stuff.” My intuition spurred me on to add, “Maybe we’ll find something even better.” Nichole smiled and I put the truck in gear.
After venturing only about a half hour outside of the Nichole and Tim’s comfortable suburban neighborhood, we were in a declining part of the city. The children looked wide-eyed out of the truck’s windows. “We’ve never been here,” whispered Nichole.
They had certainly heard many stories about the restaurant, but no one had ever deemed it necessary or perhaps appropriate to bring them. Something in my heart told me it would be all right.
After two stellar careers, when everyone expected that Grandma would settle down and retire, she opened the restaurant. In a way, though, it shouldn’t have been a big surprise. Grandma loved to cook and be creative. It was her nature to remain active. When she was a young girl, her parents and grandparents had owned a restaurant. When Grandma opened the restaurant, she loved to joke. “Look, I’ve come full circle!”
My cousins and siblings spent a lot of our youth hanging around the restaurant. Even though it was a business, Grandma usually gave us free run of the place. We all have fond memories of our escapades, lurking about the dining rooms and kitchen. Most often though, when we got a little too excited or boisterous, we were quarantined to the “office” where we couldn’t cause too much trouble. The office became our clubhouse. It was the site of so many of our intrigues and adventures. It was the epitome of our shared youth and the closeness of our family bond.
Initially, the restaurant was quite successful. It specialized in unique salads and appetizers. Many consider it to have been the archetype for the salad restaurants that are ubiquitous today. After Grandma could no longer work there, my uncle ran it for a while, but as the neighborhood declined, it became increasingly difficult to keep it open. It has been closed for many years now. We all lie to ourselves that it would be impractical to sell the land. We tell ourselves that the neighborhood may revitalize, but in our hearts we know that we can’t part with it for sentimental reasons; we have too many memories there; we may be dispersed, but it is still a link that binds us.
Turning the key, I opened the squeaky door and guided the children in. Despite the years of disuse, the main room, which was now illuminated solely by the skylights, still felt warm and inviting. Nichole and Tim looked about in awe. Nichole spoke first. She said, “This is Grandma’s restaurant.” I felt a pang in my heart.
“Actually,” I said, “your great-grandmother. Come on, you’ve got to see the office.”
The office with its high ceiling, wood paneling and quaint furnishings still had a clubhouse feel to it. It had been decorated this way before Grandma bought the restaurant. The most unique feature of the office was the great solid desk and shelving unit that was built into the far wall. Starting at the floor, there was a series of cubby-hole storage shelves that cascaded up in a staircase fashion. Joining a staggered honeycomb of cubby-holes above the desk, the entire structure was crowned, about halfway up the high wall, by three large shelves. These shelves were adjacent to each other, but they were all at different heights. The asymmetry added to the casual feeling of the décor.
When we were quite young, we realized that we could climb the cubby-holes, using them as a staircase. The desktop served as a landing from which one could ascend the honeycomb shelving which led to the top three shelves. A combination storage unit – jungle gym!
Around the time that Grandma acquired the restaurant and claimed that she had “gone full circle,” she again began wearing the dragon necklace that she had worn in her youth; the one her grandmother had given her. Grandma often let us wear it in the restaurant. It gave rise to a hilarious game involving the office structure. We would take turns wearing the necklace and ascend to the highest of the three shelves. We referred to these shelves as “the podium.” When one of us, wearing the necklace, stood on the highest podium shelf, the rest of us, with mock solemnity would simultaneously chant, “You have captured the gold!” The pomp and absurdity of the spectacle would launch the youngest of us into peals of laughter. Our parents never seemed to understand the hilarity of the game, but it never failed to double Grandma over with mirth.
One time, we goaded Grandma to climb to the podium. To our delight, despite her age, feigning great dignity, she climbed up to the desktop. At that point she turned to us and said, “I have captured the pewter.” We screamed with delight.
My cousin Johnny called out, “Grandma, why don’t you go higher?”
She cryptically replied, “Remember Icarus.” Of course, her wisdom was lost on the youngest of us. For months we greeted each other with the malapropism, “Remember Licorice!”
The day Grandma has ascended to the desktop, I later approached my older cousin Brian and asked him if he thought that Grandma hadn’t climbed higher because she was scared. It was the only time I ever saw Brian became angry. He looked squarely into my eyes, slowly saying, “Remember this. Grandma is never afraid of anything, and even if she was, it wouldn’t stop her from doing something that she wanted to do.”
“Then why didn’t she climb higher?” I asked.
“She didn’t want to show off.”
I somehow understood that Brian was absolutely correct.
Tim proved that he carried the legacy of the cousins, because seeing the staircase of cubby-holes he immediately climbed up to the desktop. The honeycombs and “podium” above the desk had been dismantled several years ago by my uncle, who relocated that part of the structure to his den. “Tim,” I said, “you have captured the platinum.”
“What?”
Just then I saw the desktop start to tilt. Apparently, it had once been anchored in place by the heavy honeycombs. Now that they were gone, the supporting structure had failed. I was able to grab Tim, just as the desktop came crashing to the floor.
“Man,” said Tim, “that was cool!”
“Are you alright?” Nicole’s calming voice was addressed to me, not to Tim. Nicole has this amazing quality about her. She is just a child, but when I am with her, I sometimes feel like she is the one who is taking care of me. In some ways, she actually reminds me a lot of Grandma, both emotionally and physically. The rest of us are fair, but Nichole, alone has long straight black hair and the most beautiful dark eyes.
Recovering my composure I said, “The real question is, how is Tim?”
“I’m fine,” he said, “I got the latinum, but I gotta use the bathroom – real soon.”
I suddenly realized our new predicament. The restaurant water was turned off; the bathrooms didn’t function. I remembered that there had been a public bathroom in the little park across the street. But how would I handle the logistics? In this neighborhood I would have to go into the bathroom with Tim, but what would I do with Nichole? I couldn’t leave her standing alone outside.
My wise niece immediately understood the predicament. “Take him,” she said. “You can lock me in here. I will be safe.” I was a little uncertain, but Nicole’s resolve finally won me over.
“OK,” I said, “but we’ll be right back.”
Not more then ten minutes later, Tim and I came rushing back into the restaurant. As we entered the office Tim greeted his sister with intense excitement.
“Nicole, we went to the bathroom and I found something, I found something! It was there when we crossed the street!”
“What did you find?”
Tim thrust out his hand. “Look, it’s the insignia from an old Chevy Corvette! Somehow it was just lying in the street!”
“That’s great,” said Nichole. I noticed that Nichole’s eyes were really sparkling. I thought to myself, “How nice that she is so excited for her brother.” But then I saw her hand behind her back, and from her mischievous smile, I knew that there was more going on.
Nichole said, “I found something, too.” She opened a tightly closed fist and in her hand I saw Grandma’s dragon necklace. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
“Where did you find it?” I was flabbergasted.
“I was looking in the hole, under where the desktop was, and I saw something shiny.”
Then I remembered, that years ago, the necklace became mysteriously lost. One of the cousins had been wearing it, we couldn’t remember who, and then the necklace was gone. Our parents were furious, but Grandma didn’t mind. She said, “Don’t worry, it will turn up.” After several months passed and no one found it, we figured that one of us had put it down on a table in the dining room and a customer had taken it home.
But now I realized that it must have fallen off one of us while we were on the podium. It must have dropped down behind the shelves and under the desk.
Nichole looked at me imploringly. “May I?”
I clasped the necklace around her beautiful dark hair and slender neck.
“Nothing would make Grandma happier.”