The old garage had a layer of dust from certain neglect and a bit of a musty smell that took a few decades to develop. The dilapidated workbench was quickly cleared, as the man approaching middle age prepared the surface to work on the broken mailbox. The little blond-head boy watched his dad pull out a screw driver and chip some of the rust away from the screws he needed to remove.

An idea popped into the little boys head. He quickly ran across the backyard and into the house. The dad turned the box around looking for the one angle that would allow him to break the rotted 4X4 free from the box and remove the rusty screws.

As he was chipping away, he suddenly realized his son was standing next to him holding a glass of Coke. The dad smiled, took the glass from his son and took a big swig. Feeling refreshed, he gave his son a wink, but received a glare in return. The dad was perplexed and thought for a moment. He observed his son’s crossed arms and anxiously tapping foot. Something was amiss and he wasn’t sure what to do or say, so he continued to work on the rotted wood.

Just then the chunk of wood broke free and the rusty screws fell onto the workbench. Out of the corner of his eye, the dad could see that his son was frustrated. Thinking his son expected him to down the Coke, he took another gulp and noticed his son’s eyes follow the glass from his lips, back to the workbench. He took pause and then he knew what to do.

He turned to his wide eyed son and said, “I needed to reduce the liquid to the right level for just a couple screws.” The boy twisted his face into a quizzical look, as his dad dropped the rusty screws into the glass of Coke. The boy smiled and leaned forward to watch the ragging bubbles consume the rust.

The dad was relieved, and thankful that he remembered the lesson he taught his son about how to get rust off of a bicycle chain. A smile came to his face and he jostled his son’s hair. He was proud of his son for his ingenuity and memory.

The little boy looked up at his dad with pride in his heart. He was finally able to please his dad by helping him. He felt like he grew two inches that day and looked forward to working side-by-side in the garage again.

At the front of the house the little boy steadied the post, as the dad screwed the mailbox onto the new 4X4 with shiny screws. The smiles on the two were so obvious that the little boy’s mom, who was watching from the front porch, knew something special had happened. She immediately ran outside with her iPhone and snapped a shot of the two standing next to their successful project.

It was truly a bonding moment and the mom knew she had captured the memory for years to come. Wanting to better understand what transpired, she asked them what they had talked about in the garage. In unison they said, “Nothing.” The little boy’s mom gave a piercing look to his dad.

“What?” questioned the dad. “We just pried off the rotten wood, cleaned up the screws, and mounted the box onto the new post.” The mom saw sincerity in his eyes and looked down at her son. The little boy was beaming and nodding in agreement.

A smile broke out on the mom’s face and everyone hugged. It was a good day and she wasn’t about to push any further and enjoy the moment. After all, she had captured the  special father son moment – Whatever it was that happened.

 Copyright © 2012 By CJ Powers

Photo © J and S Photography – Fotolia.com

A string of firecrackers sputtered in the background. The celebration was kicking off with a big parade. Of those watching, some stood tall, others removed their caps and placed it over their hearts. Still, some just sat on the curb without any regard, as the color guard marched by at the front of the Fourth of July parade.

Jasper, an angry old man shuffled down to a row of teens sitting on the curb with difference written on their faces and listening to iPods. He got the teen’s attention with a quick poke of his cane into the gut of the coolest guy. The teens bolted to their feet.

“What is it with you old man,” shouted Terry with surprise. “I have the right to sit here.”

“You have no respect for our flag or your freedom,” growled Jasper. “Stand at attention and honor those who have gone before you.”

“I don’t have to do any such thing,” quipped Terry.

The color guard overheard the distraction and retired Sergeant Olsen stepped away from his formation.

“What seems to be the problem here, boys?” asked Olsen.

“This old guy is trying to tell me how to live,” griped Terry. “He’s trying to judge me.”

“I merely told them that men like you deserve respect and honor,” stated Jasper.

Olsen looked into the eyes of both men, and then shook his head as he walked away.

“Hey wait a minute,” shouted Terry. “I thought you were going to get this old guy off of our cases.”

“Non-sense, you fool,” countered Jasper. “He was supposed to teach you a lesson.”

Olsen stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned.

“I risked my life in Desert Storm, so you had the right to have and hold your own viewpoint,” stated Olsen. “I just wish you took that freedom and did something together during these hard economic times to help this fine community you share.”

Olsen turned to head back to his color guard, but jasper quickly added, “I’m sorry you had to risk your life for this punk.”

Olsen turned to the men.

“I’m sorry you both feel a sense of entitlement, instead of graciously accepting the gift of freedom thousands of men and women made possible for you.”

Olsen jogged back into formation. Jasper headed back up the street. And, Terry and his friends sat back on the curb.

All were free to consider change, but only Olsen had done something about it. Smiling as he marched down the street, Olsen couldn’t help but wonder what greatness would soon follow those who chose to do something with their freedom for others. For he knew that self-sacrifice, was the only thing that moved our country forward.

Copyright © 2011 By CJ Powers
© thepoeticimage – Fotolia.com

The large oak tree swayed as a gentle breeze trickled through its branches, revealing a bird’s nest. Poking its little head out for the first time was a baby robin stretching its beak for food. His belly was grumbling and he instinctively knew his mother was seconds away.

“Having a sense that good things come from mothers is what everyone longs for,” thought Joey as he stepped back from the orphanage window. He had watched the robin wait patiently for her little ones to hatch and then took off to capture their first meal. He longed for that same patience, but found that the older he got, the fewer and farther between were his visits with potential parents.

“Why did adopting parents always gravitate toward the quiet and cute little girls?” Joey asked himself. He knew his cynicism was on the rise and something needed to be done before his meeting with the first couple he had seen in three months. Oh, he could put on a show if need be, but surging through his 12 year old frame was a passion for being authentic.

Joey was desperate for a home, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to live a life of lies or pretense. Nor did his questioning spirit want to get in line with the sugary sweetness that most desired. He was growing into manhood and desired to live like the man he wanted to be. After all, the teen years for Joey were all about practicing for manhood.

Joey walked back over to the window and watched the mother bird feed her young. He realized that the little bird was well taken care of and had a place to stay – A sanctuary of sorts. Joey gently bit his bottom lip and acknowledged his thankfulness for the orphanage. He laughed at the thought that one day he too would fly the coop.

Future career ideas and hobbies flowed through Joey’s mind. Within minutes he was filled with joy and looking forward to what might be ahead. An early knock on the door snapped Joey out of his dream. It was time to meet another prospective family.

The living area was appropriately appointed for a room used to acquire donations from all who entered. It was a simple room with little to offer except for an over stuffed chair that men typically plopped into and a Victorian coach for the women or children paying a visit. The orphanage director sat in an upright chair moved into place from the dinning room.

Ms. Claire Wilson, the director for the past 17 years, shared her rehearsed welcome with the Snyders. Two small girls sat quietly with their hands folded nicely on their laps, as if their behavior might determine how long they stayed in the facility. Mr. Snyder was running his hand across the well-worn leather upholstery and Mrs. Snyder was paying devote attention to every word.

“And, that is why I feel Joey would be a good fit for your family,” concluded Claire.

“Oh, yes, I can certainly see that,” remarked Mrs. Snyder.

“What about chores?” insisted Mr. Snyder.

“In what way do you ask, sir?” questioned Claire.

“I don’t want some agency taking our boy away because of some labor law,” barked Mr. Snyder. “Everyone in the family pitches in to make ends meet and see to the needs of the house with vacuuming, taking out the trash and other domestic duties.”

“There is nothing wrong with you requiring Joey to help out around the house and no one will come after you for breaking child labor laws,” affirmed Claire.

All eyes turned toward Joey as he entered the room. He looked cute as he carefully stepped toward Mrs. Snyder like a shy little boy. He stopped in his tracks. He couldn’t play that game, especially since it wasn’t his style. He only wanted a family that would love him for who he was, not based on their fantasy developed from too much TV.

“I’m a ruff and tumble kind of guy,” announced Joey in a bold voice. “I have manners, but I’m not a little girl and won’t sit still.”

The two little girls looked up at Joey with a smile on their face. Mr. Snyder raised an eyebrow and looked Joey in the eyes.

“I’m 12 and don’t need a babysitter or anyone treating me like a child,” clarified Joey. “I will one day be an engineer and I only want parents who can help me fulfill my dream, while allowing me to love them with all of my heart.”

“Well,” gasped Mrs. Snyder. “He certainly knows what he wants in life.”

Claire shot Joey a look.

Joey recognized the signal for him to settle down. He knew that the director was tired of his rambunctious attitude around the orphanage. He also knew that he’d receive another whooping if he blew it again, although she wouldn’t care if he messed up after arriving at his new home.

Taking a deep breath, Joey set forth to apologize. “I’m sorry for…”

“Non-sense my boy,” Mr. Snyder interrupted. “He’ll do fine, not like the wimp we visited last week.”

Joey’s eyes lit up. Did he hear it right? Was Mr. Snyder interested in him, not a cutie who was sure to capture the heart of a mom?

Twenty years later…

“Mr. Snyder,” called out the new restaurant owner. “Your dad’s retirement party is up and running.”

The engineer turned to the owner, stepping away from the sign: “Snyder and Son Architecture and Engineering.”

“It’s Joey, please call me Joey.”

“You can finish taking down the sign tomorrow,” said the owner. “Our grand opening isn’t until next weekend.”

The owner patted Joey on the back, as they headed inside.

Hours into the party, people chatted around every table, while a jazz band filled the air with joyful sounds. Off to the side stood Joey, peering out the big picture window over looking the bird sanctuary. Mr. Snyder came along side of him.

“Son, my greatest dream came true in watching you achieve your dreams. I hope this project helped you feel fulfilled.”

“I’m standing in about the same place I did the day you and mom came to adopt me,” reminisced Joey. “There was a little bird up on that branch…”

A robin flew into view and landed on the branch Joey was pointing at. Little baby birds lifted their beaks out of a nest, as the mother bird fed them a worm.

“Another generation of blessings,” smiled Joey.

“I’m proud of you son. Only your vision would have seen the old orphanage converted into a supper club, not to mention cutting a deal with the forest preserve to turn the back acreage into a protected sanctuary for birds.”

“This place was my sanctuary for a time, but I’m so happy you decided to love me,” Joey spoke in a soft voice.

“Son, you were easy to love, especially as we shared the same passion for the family business,” encouraged Mr. Snyder. “So son, what will you call this place?”

“A sanctuary of memories,” Joey mused.

Copyright © 2011 By CJ Powers

Photo © mtruchon – Fotolia.com