Category: Cereal Bowl Series

Cereal No. 8

A person’s days are determined;
    you have decreed the number of his months
    and have set limits he cannot exceed. (Job 14:5 NIV)

Determination

Her mother was not surprised, but relieved, when the policeman informed her that they had found her daughter in a town about thirty miles from their home. She dressed in her best outfit, a tweed jacket with a matching skirt that she had bought from the Sears catalog. The first time she wore the suit was at her own mother’s funeral ten years prior. The suit was a bit snug, but it fit her well enough to keep her from investing in a new one.

She sat on an uncomfortable plastic orange chair next to her sleeping daughter. The doctor confirmed what she had suspected, her daughter was pregnant. About three months along, and he assured her that as soon as the IV fluids did their job; daughter and baby would be just fine. That was all well and good, but as far as her mother was concerned everything was not fine.

She had started her research soon after she had suspected her daughter’s condition. She knew that some bigger cities still offered homes for unwed mothers. She went to the library to look up details on the microfiche collection. She wrote down her findings in her spiral notebook. By coincidence the topic of these type of homes came up at her daily coffee klatsch with the neighborhood ladies.

She didn’t really need the ladies, but she did enjoy the local gossip and how much the women loved her coffee cake. They all thought she made it from scratch. She didn’t think it necessary to tell them that she used the recipe on the Bisquick box. And that her secret to success was pure vanilla combined with buttermilk, as a substitute for the water. The ladies just raved about the moistness of the cake balanced with the crunch of her cinnamon crumble topping. Their crumbs of praise kept her engaged in their mundane conversations.

Their conversation turned to the homes, after Ida Cochran cheerfully handed around the newsletter from her parish. Ida was always trying to get her neighbors to convert. The mother had no interest in religion, but she did believe in logical progressions. Ida droned on with information about the Sisters of Charity in Kansas City, Missouri. The sisters apparently ran one of the last homes for unwed mothers. Ida reported that the home used to house around seventy young girls, but in the past couple years the census had fallen to about twenty. Her parish was raising funds to keep the home open. Ida insisted that these homes were much needed, and it was a damn shame that they were becoming extinct.

Even though her daughter was missing, she sent a letter requesting an application for residency. It would be simple enough to convince her husband that their daughter was troubled. She would tell him that a cousin of hers out west was willing to take their daughter in, until she could finish high school. He would agree, and that would be that.

The fact that her daughter was returned to them solidified her resolve. The only obstacle to her plan was the daughter herself. How would she convince her daughter to go along with her determination? It would take a little more calculation, but it was not an insurmountable problem.

Posted on by kelrohlf 3

Cereal No. 7

“You know what I long for, Lord; You hear my every sigh.” Psalm 38:9 NLT

Salvation

Tong. Tong. Tong. Tong. The railroad crossing bell kept rhythm with the red alternating signal lights. She could keep walking east or she could turn south on the rural route, perhaps finding at least a village or a small town, where she could replenish her supplies. Hunger and thirst made the decision for her.

As she entered the small town, she searched for a QuikMart. She would buy some snack food and fill her canteen in the bathroom, maybe even splurge, and buy a Coke. She kept her head down, so as to not attract attention. As soon as he spotted her, the owner of the farm supply called the local police. It was his civic duty to alert the police. And this girl looked like your typical runaway.

While she was in the bathroom, filling her canteen, the policeman parked outside the QuikMart. As she exited, she forgot to keep her eyes to herself and she noticed the policeman. The bell rang as she pulled opened the glass door. The policeman got out of the car and followed her into the store.

She had nowhere to hide, so she busied herself with the snack aisle. Maybe he would just get his coffee and leave. A tap on her shoulder. “Hey kid, what’s your name?” She didn’t answer. He cleared his throat and stood behind her staring at her stringy blond hair. “I asked you a question, young lady.” A thought popped into her head.

“Shirley Verne,” she lied.

“Well, Shirley Verne, being as I’m the head policeman around here, I’m responsible for this town, and we don’t abide having vagrants hanging around.”

“I’m no vagrant,” she sputtered. “I have a right to be here. I got money. What’s it to you whether I’m here or not? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well, strange, unkempt girls are bound for trouble, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ASK you. Leave me alone. I’ll be out of your way soon enough. I’m headed to New York City.” She studied the Pringles cans on the bottom shelf.

He stifled a laugh. “Alrighty then, how about I give you a lift to the bus station, Shirley girl.”

“Uh. No, that’s not necessary. I can find my own way.” Her stomach lurched, and she decided she would buy the Pringles and a Coke, just as soon as she could dodge this cop.

He laughed outright. “Well, that will be some hike seeing that New York City is two states away and at least another thousand miles from hereabouts.”

She sighed. And then faked a yawn, as she tried to hide her disappointment from the nosy policeman. She wanted to curl up in the corner. Her mother loomed in her mind, frowning and counting out the money in her tin can. The girl stumbled forward and knocked the row of Pringles cans to the floor. The policeman caught her just as she fainted.

Posted on by kelrohlf 2

Cereal No. 6

” . . . and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” (Matthew 28:20b KJV)

Transportation

She startled awake. In her dream, Laverne and Shirley were singing the opening song to their show and doing their shlemiel and schlemazel dance, circling around her as she tried to take each step on the tracks. And then she joined them on the verse,

Nothin’s gonna turn us back now

Straight ahead and on the track now

We’re gonna make our dreams come true

Doin’ it our way

After that she remembered, Archie Bunker hollering to Edith, “God don’t make no mistakes, that’s how He got to be God.” Just before she woke, the last thing she remembered was Archie frowning at her across the kitchen table, while Edith cajoled her into eating some Lucky Charms cereal.

She stretched her limbs, pushed herself up from the pile of leaves, her makeshift bedding, to start her day. Her saltines and water only lasted through the first day. Thankfully, she brought a can of sardines from the pantry, but they made her thirsty. On the second day, she was on the lookout for a creek or a farm where she could fill her canteen. She still had the money, but she hadn’t even come across a town or village yet.

It was the third day, and she was still hoping for a train. She wondered if some big catastrophe stopped all the train traffic along this route. She chewed on a piece of damp grass to keep her mind off the hunger and thirst. She knew she could eat dandelion leaves, but it was early November. Dandelions were scarce. She didn’t even look for mushrooms, because she was afraid she’d choose the poisonous ones. And anyways, she couldn’t stray too far from the tracks, and miss her opportunity. She walked outside the tracks for some variety.

A twig snapped under her foot. And then she heard a faint wa-waaa sound behind her. It repeated and seemed to be getting closer. Could it truly be her train? She looked back down the track to the west, and the beam of the engine light out shined the early morning haze just enough to confirm her hopes. It seemed like it was at least a half mile away, so she had time to search for a good spot to jump on.

It was fairly flat, with a shallow ditch parallel to the tracks. She would crouch down in the ditch and then run toward one of the boxcars after the engine and several cars passed her.

WA-WAAAA! Her breath caught in her throat. She hummed the chorus from Laverne and Shirley, and imagined them crouched there with her. The engine passed. Her heart beat faster. One, two, three, four cars shwoosed past. Five, six, seven, eight tankers blurred her vision. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve boxcars, but she couldn’t move her feet. She thought she heard Laverne yell, “Run!” And so she leapt up and started toward the fifteenth boxcar, when she realized what her eye had already witnessed, the doors of each boxcar were shut tight, not open like she had expected.

Stunned, she lost count. She just stood watching car after car rumble on. After the last string of tankers, she sunk to the ground. And not even a caboose to hop on at the end.

 

 

Posted on by kelrohlf 2