Sunday, February 28, 2010

The Secret Psychic Life of Sammy Nichols... Chapter 8

In my mad dash to finish... I have written two chapters quickly! I have some great ideas for the story as it unfolds. I'm glad you are still enjoying this. I promised myself I would finish the first book before May. I'd like to be done before April! So March is going to be Sammy crazy!!! Enjoy peeps!


Eight:

The ride home on the bus was quiet. Sammy slumped into the cold green bus seat and started thinking about Eddie and all of the things that had been happening lately. He was trying to figure out how he had “finally figured it out!” as Eddie said. He didn’t feel like he had figured anything out. He only felt confused. The experiences were wild and exciting, but he wasn’t sure what they meant or where they were leading. He was starting to believe he might be losing his mind. He wished he wasn’t grounded tonight. He wanted to go to the community center and play hockey. At least there his mind would be occupied by the game. Sammy also wished he had somebody to talk to about what was going on. He knew his mother, with her strong Catholic beliefs, would either slap him or take him directly to Father Brown for counseling. He didn’t want that to happen. All he needed right now was a good distraction. He got what he asked for the minute he walked in the house.

“Heeeey Sammy! The Sultan of Swing! The Samuri! Sammy the Sailor Boy from St. Kitts! How’s my favorite nephew?” It was Uncle Joey. Uncle Joey could put a smile on any kid’s face because he was one of them. He was a happy go lucky kind of uncle who showed up a few times a year either for the Holidays or on business. This time he was on business. “Hey kid, I told my boss in Miami I needed a little bit of time up in the freezing cold to thicken my blood again. What do you think about going to Chestnut Ridge this evening for a little tubing action!!!” Sammy smiled and looked at his mother. She returned his look with a confirming smile. He hugged his uncle and ran straight to his bedroom to get his winter clothing on. Uncle Joey was single and he didn’t have any children. He was a successful traveling salesman and he could sell a ketchup popsickle to a woman in white gloves. He was so much fun to be around. This was just the diversion Sammy needed.

Chestnut Ridge was a winter haven for the people of Buffalo. It was about forty minutes south of the city by car and it had the most amazing sledding hill ever. Families from miles around flocked to this place when the conditions were right. It was a beautiful park anytime of the year, but most people came for the sledding, which was legendary! Charlie Grossman once broke his leg here on a field trip with the community center. It was icy and slippery the day it happened and a couple of kids from a local town had all piled on to the same tube and run Charlie down by accident at the bottom of the hill. The whole scene had erupted into a huge fight. Valley kids were like that sometimes, especially the ones Charlie hung out with. Sammy remembered the ambulance taking him away that afternoon. Charlie was cursing and screaming at the kids from the neighboring town from the inside of the ambulance, while they were bombarding it with snowballs. It was comical to say the least. You had to be careful at Chestnut Ridge, especially at the bottom of the hill. It was like human bowling sometimes with the tubes and sleds knocking kids off of their feet when they were trying to get to the walkway. Oh the walkway! The prospect of flying down the hill at break neck speeds would make you forget about the treacherous walk back up, but as soon as you were half way up the sometimes icy, sometimes muddy lane that was roped off for walking, you would swear that this run was the LAST! Of course it wasn’t, because once you were at the top, looking down that big, smooth hill, temptation took over and propelled you ever downward on a new quest for speed. Life worked like this in many cases. If you gave a body a reward of some sort, it would forget the long pain it had endured for the prospect of the short high.

Uncle Joey spared no expenses. They had stopped at the local sporting goods store and bought the best tubes that were on the market. They also stopped for food and candy and hot chocolate. By the time they got to the park, they were both running on a major sugar high. “Race you to the bottom punk!” Uncle Joey yelled as they ran across the parking lot with massive tubes in tow. Sammy smiled and raced onward to the hill. He never stopped to look back for his uncle and he beat him to the bottom by a country mile. The night went splendidly well and Sammy’s soul was redeemed. Uncle Joey was going to be staying at the house for a few nights while he was in town, so it pretty much guaranteed that Sammy would be doing something with him every night after school. It was just what he needed to keep his mind off of the crazy things that were going on.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Secret Psychic Life of Sammy Nichols... Chapter 7

The magic really begins... enjoy!

Seven:

All day at school, Sammy was in a fantastic mood. He was happy that he was alive, on account of the strange occurrences from the previous night. He was also happy that he had escaped the Babcock gang unharmed. A sort of electricity began to run through his body and mind. The feeling was strange to him, but it almost seemed as if the dark cloud that had been hanging over his life was beginning to fade. He felt a little more alive, a little more in control. He felt like he did when he was a bit younger and his father was alive. Mr. Lanski had even given him an extra once over glance upon entering his classroom. “My dear boy! I do sense a change in you today,” he said. “Did you win the lottery my boy? Did you have some intrepid revelation that you would like to share with the rest of the class? I do say you are of grand spirits today! Whatever it is that has put such a mood in you, keep it up. Welcome back to the world Mr. Nichols.”

Sammy’s cheek muscles cracked and strained themselves, almost unable to physically concoct the smile that his soul was endeavoring to put upon his face. He had never felt the urge to smile so strongly. His eyes lit up and felt more focused. His muscles seemed to move proudly and effortlessly when he crossed in front of the blackboard. He had always hated walking in front of the peering eyes of the other students, but today the room seemed to stand still. He felt like he could walk on water, and it showed in the way he carried himself. All of the other children watched in awe, as he slowly made his way to his desk. He felt it. He felt like a budding movie star or traveling rock star that everyone loved and adored. Sammy questioned the validity and source of the sudden feelings of power, but he let himself feel them nonetheless. He hadn’t felt this good in years and he wasn’t about to let himself lose the sensation.

When he took his seat, he pulled his father’s wristwatch out of his pocket in an almost slow motion fashion. It was 12:30pm, just after lunch. He lifted his glance up to the front of the class. Every head in the room was turned towards him, even Mr. Lanski’s in a silent sort of awe. It was as if everyone was waiting for his permission to start the lesson. Some of the girls even batted eyelashes at Sammy. This was not the sort of attention he was accustomed to. He smiled back at the class in a shy boyish kind of way as if to give them the blessing to proceed.

“Humph ummm....” Mr. Lanski interrupted, finally breaking the silence. “Shall we begin then? Good. Open your textbooks to Chapter 20. Slattery, you begin reading the first paragraph on the Magna Carta.” And so it went, Slattery, being the first boy of the first row of the classroom, was always first to read. The succession of paragraphs would be read by one and all in a sort of snake like fashion through the rows of the classroom. Sammy was in the last row and the last seat, so he was almost always last to read. As Slattery finished his paragraph, the next to read was Marcy McGee. Her monotone voice and slow cadence pulled Sammy into a slow state of dreaminess. He started drifting off into his head as her voice slowly faded into the distance. Every word pulled him deeper into a trance, and before he knew it he was off into an episode of daydreaming…. Or so he thought.

“Come on you big baby! Just do it! Don’t be scared Nichols! You can do it. If I can do it, then you definitely can do it!” He knew that voice! He knew that voice very well! Sammy looked all around him as he gripped the rope swing hanging from the side of the grain elevator. “Do it Nichols! I promise you won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t let you fall.” He stood on the very top platform of the old building. He was holding on to a rope that was slung around the giant boom arm protruding from the side of the 200-foot tall grain elevator. One hundred years ago that arm had been used by the mill workers to hoist bags of supplies on and off of ships. Below him was the bubbling brown water of the Buffalo River where those big grain ships used to dock. “Go on Sammy. Just jump and hang on. The rope will swing you out and then down, then back through the window a few floors below.” That voice! “Do it or I’m going to push you off!” Sammy held on tightly to the rope and leapt. The feeling of weightlessness began instantly as his feet raced towards the water below. He held ever tightly to the rope that was limply sailing through the air with him. He felt his stomach in his throat and wondered why he hadn’t checked to see if the rope was properly fastened in the first place. Instantly, it tightened up and Sammy held on for dear life as he felt all of the force of gravity pulling him towards the river. His hands and arms clanged to the rope and he began fast arc towards the building. There was the window opening and it was fast approaching. He could hear the fibers of the rope hissing under the weight of his body. He lifted his feet to clear the old frame and let go of the rope. His body slid across the old concrete floor for a good 10 feet and finally came to a stop.

Dust and debris were all around and the air was thick with the dirty fog he had created upon his grand entry. Sammy sat there coughing a bit, while he waved his hands to clear the dusty air. A hand appeared out of the cloud as if to help him, and he grabbed it. The person whom the hand belonged to slowly lifted him from the floor and began patting him on the back. “You did it Nichols! You did it man!” Sammy tried to let go of the grip, but was unable. The stranger escorted him to the window he had just dropped in. When the sunlight hit them, the stranger was revealed. Sammy nearly collapsed to the floor. It was Eddie! “Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name…thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” Sammy raced through the Lord’s Prayer and shook from head to toe. “Sammy, Sammy, relax buddy! You are ok! It’s me.. Eddie!” “I realize that!” Sammy replied, continuing the prayer “ …on Earth as it is in heaven, give us this day” “ Sammy! Relax and let me explain,” Eddie said, still holding Sammy’s hand. “Ok, please do!” Sammy said. With a quick leap he pulled Sammy out of the window and the two were racing face first towards the river over a hundred feet below. Sammy screamed in terror and kept praying. Eddie smiled and looked at him the whole time. Any second and they would be crashing deep into the murky waters of the river. Sammy shook all over and tried with all his might to loose himself of Eddie’s strong grip. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact.

“Hey dude. Take a look. Nichols! Come on Nichols, open your eyes!”

When Sammy slowly opened his eyes, he was hovering about five feet from the surface of the water with Eddie still holding firmly to his hand. He could see their reflections in the water. He gasped and wrapped his body around Eddie’s in fear. “Whoa good buddy. No need to be afraid! You did it! You finally did it! I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. I’m so happy you figured it out!” Eddie said happily looking straight into Sammy’s eyes. “What did I do Eddie? Did I die? The last thing I remember was sitting in Mr. Lanski’s class… and now this! Oh no, I can’t die! No, no, no…. Eddie, what about my mom! And my sisters!!! Oh no, not now Eddie! I can’t die!” Sammy cried desperately. “You aren’t dead Sammy!” Eddie said as he gripped his friend by both arms, “You are still in Mr. Lanski’s class. You just crossed over to the other side! Come, let’s have a look!” Just like that, he whisked Sammy high into the sky and across the south side of the city. They moved like jet planes until they were just over St. Bonnie’s school. Eddie guided him to the other side of the building and they hovered close to the window where Sammy’s desk was. There he was, well his body at least. Sammy was so confused. He looked at himself through the window. His head was slumped over against the big radiator that sat next to the window. “But… but… you are dead Eddie…. I mean… this is all so strange… what’s going on? Please tell me this is all a dream,” Sammy said to his best friend as they hovered near the classroom. “ Oh Sammy, I’m fine…. And look, you are next to read! Ha ha! I’ll explain next time! See you soon buddy, you gotta get back in there!” Eddie smiled and pushed Sammy quickly towards the window. Sammy lifted his head from the radiator and looked up, Mr. Lanski was standing over him. “I suppose some things never change”, he said quietly pointing to the paragraph Sammy was to read aloud. Sammy smiled at his teacher and began reading to the class.

The Secret Psychic Life of Sammy Nichols... Chapter 7

The magic really begins... enjoy!

Seven:

All day at school, Sammy was in a fantastic mood. He was happy that he was alive, on account of the strange occurrences from the previous night. He was also happy that he had escaped the Babcock gang unharmed. A sort of electricity began to run through his body and mind. The feeling was strange to him, but it almost seemed as if the dark cloud that had been hanging over his life was beginning to fade. He felt a little more alive, a little more in control. He felt like he did when he was a bit younger and his father was alive. Mr. Lanski had even given him an extra once over glance upon entering his classroom. “My dear boy! I do sense a change in you today,” he said. “Did you win the lottery my boy? Did you have some intrepid revelation that you would like to share with the rest of the class? I do say you are of grand spirits today! Whatever it is that has put such a mood in you, keep it up. Welcome back to the world Mr. Nichols.”

Sammy’s cheek muscles cracked and strained themselves, almost unable to physically concoct the smile that his soul was endeavoring to put upon his face. He had never felt the urge to smile so strongly. His eyes lit up and felt more focused. His muscles seemed to move proudly and effortlessly when he crossed in front of the blackboard. He had always hated walking in front of the peering eyes of the other students, but today the room seemed to stand still. He felt like he could walk on water, and it showed in the way he carried himself. All of the other children watched in awe, as he slowly made his way to his desk. He felt it. He felt like a budding movie star or traveling rock star that everyone loved and adored. Sammy questioned the validity and source of the sudden feelings of power, but he let himself feel them nonetheless. He hadn’t felt this good in years and he wasn’t about to let himself lose the sensation.

When he took his seat, he pulled his father’s wristwatch out of his pocket in an almost slow motion fashion. It was 12:30pm, just after lunch. He lifted his glance up to the front of the class. Every head in the room was turned towards him, even Mr. Lanski’s in a silent sort of awe. It was as if everyone was waiting for his permission to start the lesson. Some of the girls even batted eyelashes at Sammy. This was not the sort of attention he was accustomed to. He smiled back at the class in a shy boyish kind of way as if to give them the blessing to proceed.

“Humph ummm....” Mr. Lanski interrupted, finally breaking the silence. “Shall we begin then? Good. Open your textbooks to Chapter 20. Slattery, you begin reading the first paragraph on the Magna Carta.” And so it went, Slattery, being the first boy of the first row of the classroom, was always first to read. The succession of paragraphs would be read by one and all in a sort of snake like fashion through the rows of the classroom. Sammy was in the last row and the last seat, so he was almost always last to read. As Slattery finished his paragraph, the next to read was Marcy McGee. Her monotone voice and slow cadence pulled Sammy into a slow state of dreaminess. He started drifting off into his head as her voice slowly faded into the distance. Every word pulled him deeper into a trance, and before he knew it he was off into an episode of daydreaming…. Or so he thought.

“Come on you big baby! Just do it! Don’t be scared Nichols! You can do it. If I can do it, then you definitely can do it!” He knew that voice! He knew that voice very well! Sammy looked all around him as he gripped the rope swing hanging from the side of the grain elevator. “Do it Nichols! I promise you won’t get hurt. I promise I won’t let you fall.” He stood on the very top platform of the old building. He was holding on to a rope that was slung around the giant boom arm protruding from the side of the 200-foot tall grain elevator. One hundred years ago that arm had been used by the mill workers to hoist bags of supplies on and off of ships. Below him was the bubbling brown water of the Buffalo River where those big grain ships used to dock. “Go on Sammy. Just jump and hang on. The rope will swing you out and then down, then back through the window a few floors below.” That voice! “Do it or I’m going to push you off!” Sammy held on tightly to the rope and leapt. The feeling of weightlessness began instantly as his feet raced towards the water below. He held ever tightly to the rope that was limply sailing through the air with him. He felt his stomach in his throat and wondered why he hadn’t checked to see if the rope was properly fastened in the first place. Instantly, it tightened up and Sammy held on for dear life as he felt all of the force of gravity pulling him towards the river. His hands and arms clanged to the rope and he began fast arc towards the building. There was the window opening and it was fast approaching. He could hear the fibers of the rope hissing under the weight of his body. He lifted his feet to clear the old frame and let go of the rope. His body slid across the old concrete floor for a good 10 feet and finally came to a stop.

Dust and debris were all around and the air was thick with the dirty fog he had created upon his grand entry. Sammy sat there coughing a bit, while he waved his hands to clear the dusty air. A hand appeared out of the cloud as if to help him, and he grabbed it. The person whom the hand belonged to slowly lifted him from the floor and began patting him on the back. “You did it Nichols! You did it man!” Sammy tried to let go of the grip, but was unable. The stranger escorted him to the window he had just dropped in. When the sunlight hit them, the stranger was revealed. Sammy nearly collapsed to the floor. It was Eddie! “Our Father who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name…thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” Sammy raced through the Lord’s Prayer and shook from head to toe. “Sammy, Sammy, relax buddy! You are ok! It’s me.. Eddie!” “I realize that!” Sammy replied, continuing the prayer “ …on Earth as it is in heaven, give us this day” “ Sammy! Relax and let me explain,” Eddie said, still holding Sammy’s hand. “Ok, please do!” Sammy said. With a quick leap he pulled Sammy out of the window and the two were racing face first towards the river over a hundred feet below. Sammy screamed in terror and kept praying. Eddie smiled and looked at him the whole time. Any second and they would be crashing deep into the murky waters of the river. Sammy shook all over and tried with all his might to loose himself of Eddie’s strong grip. He closed his eyes and braced for the impact.

“Hey dude. Take a look. Nichols! Cum on Nichols, open your eyes!”

When Sammy slowly opened his eyes, he was hovering about five feet from the surface of the water with Eddie still holding firmly to his hand. He could see their reflections in the water. He gasped and wrapped his body around Eddie’s in fear. “Whoa good buddy. No need to be afraid! You did it! You finally did it! I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. I’m so happy you figured it out!” Eddie said happily looking straight into Sammy’s eyes. “What did I do Eddie? Did I die? The last thing I remember was sitting in Mr. Lanski’s class… and now this! Oh no, I can’t die! No, no, no…. Eddie, what about my mom! And my sisters!!! Oh no, not now Eddie! I can’t die!” Sammy cried desperately. “You aren’t dead Sammy!” Eddie said as he gripped his friend by both arms, “You are still in Mr. Lanski’s class. You just crossed over to the other side! Come, let’s have a look!” Just like that, he whisked Sammy high into the sky and across the south side of the city. They moved like jet planes until they were just over St. Bonnie’s school. Eddie guided him to the other side of the building and they hovered close to the window where Sammy’s desk was. There he was, well his body at least. Sammy was so confused. He looked at himself through the window. His head was slumped over against the big radiator that sat next to the window. “But… but… you are dead Eddie…. I mean… this is all so strange… what’s going on? Please tell me this is all a dream,” Sammy said to his best friend as they hovered near the classroom. “ Oh Sammy, I’m fine…. And look, you are next to read! Ha ha! I’ll explain next time! See you soon buddy, you gotta get back in there!” Eddie smiled and pushed Sammy quickly towards the window. Sammy lifted his head from the radiator and looked up, Mr. Lanski was standing over him. “I suppose some things never change”, he said quietly pointing to the paragraph Sammy was to read aloud. Sammy smiled at his teacher and began reading to the class.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

The Secret Psychic Life of Sammy Nichols... Chapter 6

Some winter fun! Enjoy as the action heats up! Thank you for reading! I have been talking to a publisher and a possible illustrator. This story is going places!


Six:

It started right away. “Plunk!” He had barely left his house when the snowball hit him dead in the face. He was stinging hot with pain. He tried to quickly clear the snow from his eyes so he could see the attacker. “Whack!” Another one smacked him in the left ear. Sammy dropped to the ground dizzily. That one really hurt. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. As he bent on his knee trying to regain his composure, he was blasted with a half dozen more snowballs. He could hear the evil snickering of the boys all around him. He quickly lifted his book bag to protect his face and peered out from the side to see what he was up against. Jimmy Babcock was hiding behind the car directly across the street and he was prepared for war. He had a big grin on his freckled face and a dozen more snowballs already rolled up on the trunk of the car. Jimmy was short and scrappy for a boy of fourteen and had the biggest mouth in the neighborhood. He could fight like a dog, but did most of his intimidating with his words, which were always awful. “Don’t try to run now Nichols! There’s nobody here to protect you, unless you are gonna run back to your mommy!” Jimmy shouted, much to the amusement of the rest of the gang. To the right was Charlie Grossman, hiding behind Mrs. Mendola’s tree. Charlie was Jimmy’s main sidekick, another Valley kid who barely went to school and did whatever Jimmy told him to do. Charlie was taller than Jimmy and far better looking, but he hadn’t nearly the vocal bravado. Charlie wasn’t to be messed with though; he once knocked Jimmy out with one punch. That feat alone had earned him the reputation of being “baddest” in the neighborhood, though he now played second fiddle to Jimmy. Jimmy, being of reasonable intelligence, quickly scooped Charlie into his gang shortly after that infamous day, for it was always better to make an ally of a boy like him instead of an enemy. The car next to Jimmy’s was manned by the Zazchec boys, Brad and Billy, but they were standing in the middle of the street instead of behind it. Brad was a big, overweight, goon of a fifteen year old, with rosy red cheeks and a big pink belly that usually hung out of his clothes. His brother Billy was a skinny little ten year old with blonde hair and blue eyes that ran with the crew on account of Brad’s say so. He was more of a tag along than anything, there for his brother’s amusement. All four were armed with a mountain of pre-made snowballs, which they were viciously firing at Sammy. Sammy took a deep breath and thought quickly about how he was going to try to avoid the inevitable. There was no talking to these boys and backing them down. They were always out for blood. The odds were terribly stacked against him.

He kept his book bag up to keep the blistering balls from hitting him in the face again, but he was virtually surrounded without a good escape route on the street. He had a feeling if they caught him, he would be in for a severe beating since he had been saved from the gang a few nights ago by a passing car. They closed in a bit and threw harder. He had to do something fast or he was going to be in for it. He decided his best chance of escape would be to make a dash between the Zazchec boys. He knew he was faster than Brad and he figured he could just push little Billy to the side if was able to keep up with him. It was time to act. He sped down the sidewalk and into the street straight for the gap between the boys. The snowballs were whizzing crazily about his whole body and Jimmy Babcock was screaming hysterically to the boys to “catch him! Or else!” As he got closer to the boys he made a move like he was going to run straight into big Brad’s arms. Brad was smiling and drooling as if he was being handed a big greasy steak. He perched down and got ready to capture the fleeing fugitive. Charlie Grossman had left his position behind the tree and was in hot pursuit. He had almost caught up to Sammy. He was within arms length of grabbing Sammy’s book bag and had every intention of dragging him down by it. Sammy was running into his own doomsday for a few more strides and he would certainly be pummeled by the angry gang!

“Splat!” The sound of the collision was horrible. It was an awful, bone crunching sound and there were sure to be a few teeth missing, and possibly some broken bones! But, alas! It was not the sound of Sammy, but rather the sound of Charlie Grossman colliding with Brad Zazchec! In a split decision of sheer genius, Sammy had dropped to the ice covered street and slid between Brad’s legs in a super man like maneuver leaving the two boys to their own fate! He was now running full bore down St. Stephens Place far from the Babcock gang! There was no way they would catch him now. He sped to the corner of the street and straight into the school bus that had pulled up in the nick of time. He was barely able to catch his breath as he took his seat in the middle of the bus. The bus aide commented, “I ain’t never seen a boy so excited to go to school in my whole life! You got a hot date today or somethin’?” Sammy grinned and leaned back into the cold vinyl seat.

Charlie Grossman was the first to rise from the wreckage of human bodies and his face was a mess. He was bleeding from his nose and had a big cut running across his forehead. He staggered and breathed heavily as he tried to stand up straight. Brad Zazchec lie on the ground in silence, eyes closed, like a dead man in his tomb. Jimmy and Billy had dropped to his side to see if he was indeed dead. Billy cried, “You stupid, stupid, stupid Grossman! You killed him! You killed my big brother! I hate you! I am gonna kill you now!!!” Billy grabbed Grossman by the leg and began punching him with all his might, which was barely phasing Charlie at all. “You idiots! He ain’t dead,” said Jimmy Babcock tending to the fallen giant. “Looky here, he’s breathing. He’s just out cold. Charlie Grossman knocked him out cold! Ha ha!” “You would know!” Billy chimed in. Charlie chuckled a bit. “Mind your tongue Billy Zazchec or you will be next!” Jimmy scolded. “Damn that Sammy Nichols! He’s really gonna pay for this!”

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Secret Psychic Life of Sammy Nichols... Chapter 5

Enjoy the new chapter...

Five:

The next morning Sammy jumped out of bed and touched everything he could; all of his clothes, his hockey stick, and the light bulb that protruded from the old fashioned fixture on the side of his wall. He could feel the tacky tape on the blade of his stick. He felt the softness of his flannel shirts, and the grittiness of his dirty jeans that lie on the floor. He touched the cold glass of the old window and ran every finger he had in a streak down the frosty pane. He could feel the chill of the moisture that had built up overnight. He then grabbed the light bulb, which had been on for few minutes. “Ouch!! That’s hot,” he said under his breath as he withdrew his hand. He ran quickly out of his room to the kitchen and was so intent upon turning on the faucet, that he hadn’t noticed his mother and the two girls sitting at the table getting ready for breakfast. He also hadn’t realized that he was clad only in his underwear, which put a puzzled and disturbed look upon his mother’s face. It made the girls giggle. Sammy stood at the kitchen sink rinsing his hands in the running water oblivious to the ladies of the house. He started throwing water about his face as if he was baptizing himself in some sort of pagan ritual. “It’s cold! It’s cold! Ha ha ha! I can feel it!” he rejoiced as he splashed the water about his face wildly. “Samuel Benjamin Nichols!!! What the hell has gotten into you!!” mother screamed from the table not five feet away. He turned slowly with a dripping wet face towards his mother and sisters. Having realized he was very inappropriately dressed for female company, he folded into a pretzel-like stance to hide his business from the rest of his family. “Oh mother! Hello… um…. Good morning. Hello Deedee. Good morning Kayla.”

“What in the Dickens has gotten into you mister?” mother demanded while rising from her chair. “I don’t know mom. I guess I must have been sleepwalking” Sammy said nervously as the water dripped down his half naked body. “Sleepwalking with the devil I’m sure of it!” mother scolded. He surely felt the cold water now. He felt like his bones were shivering inside of his skin. He slumped further in to his pretzel position and started backing away. The temperature was a mere 8 degrees Fahrenheit outside and mother never let the thermostat go above 62 degrees. That number was part of the 11th Commandment in the Nichols house. Had it actually made it into the Bible it probably would have read something like: Thou shall never adjust thy thermostat above (insert number) unless thou art authorized to do so, for the punishment is death. Every household in Buffalo had a magic number that wasn’t to be crossed when it came to heating the home. There was always one person in charge of said number and that person had absolute authority. It was serious business and kids especially were forbidden to touch or control the heating mechanisms. Winters were long and bitter cold and the natural gas that was predominantly used for heating fuel was more expensive than gold; it was to be used wisely. Sammy loved spending the night at Eddie’s house during the winters that he was alive, because the Fernandez family always kept the house very warm. He asked his mother once why their house wasn’t as warm, since they had the same kind of furnace and she went into such a tirade about “welfare” and “free heat” and “cheating the system” that it kept Sammy from ever asking again. He sensed that she was about to explode into such a tirade now and offered his sincerest apologies as he hurried back to his room to get dressed before the fury could be unleashed.

He waited about five minutes before re-entering the kitchen and this time went quietly to the cupboard for his morning cereal. Mom eyed him cautiously from the other side of the table and he could feel the heat of embarrassment rising up the back of his neck. Despite her incredible beauty, Mrs. Nichols had a way of looking at a child that could cut right through the bone and dig out the marrow. It was hard to hide anything from her. “Son. Are you sure that you were only sleepwalking?” “Yes mom, I was just having a bad dream,” Sam insisted as he filled his bowl with cereal, all the while avoiding direct eye contact. “ Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she asked sternly, watching him now with the eyes of a hawk.

This was the loaded gun. This was THE question of questions. If you ever wanted to find out the truth from anyone in life, this was the best question to ask. It was the question that made murderers confess their crime to the police. It was the same question that could root out an infidel spouse and make them tell all while crumbling to their knees. When asked properly, it implied that the person asking the question already knew what was going on… they were just waiting to see if you would lie about the situation or not, further digging your grave. Sammy thought of telling all that had happened the previous night, but he could not get himself to do it. He hadn’t had enough time to process it for himself and it very well may have been a dream. She would think he was on drugs. That’s probably where the question of questions was leading now anyway. He opted for the easy out. “ No mom, everything is fine. I was just having a weird dream. I am perfectly fine now.” She kept her eyes on him, but her look softened a little. “ Well, you know I’m always here if you need to talk about something and it doesn’t matter what it is. This is an open book household. You can talk to me about anything in confidence. If you have something on your mind don’t be afraid to tell me about it.” “ Thanks mom, but I’m really ok now,” he assured her, finally allowing his eyes to meet hers. She was a fair and just woman and Sammy knew that she loved and cared for him very much. He could never lie to her, for she was the paramount of trustworthiness and he knew he would break her heart if he ever did. It was always best to fess up the crime and pay the time than to be caught in a lie. The crime could be dealt with and corrected. A lie in the Nichols house would be etched in stone and remembered for a lifetime. This wasn’t really a lie, but rather an omission of full facts, so he didn’t feel so guilty about not going into detail. After breakfast Sammy collected his book bag and the rest of his winter gear and bundled up for the walk to the bus stop on the corner. He had a feeling today was going to be an interesting day in school.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

What the hell have I been up to?


Well... isn't that the grand old question? I would first like to apologize to my lovely little group of friends and family folk following my random, sometimes incoherent, often inconsistent blog! Oh ye of great faith and flattery! How you message me and encourage me through all forms of media and electronic systems. It is ye who inspire...no...guilt rather, a near slumbering nimwit such as I to forgo the comforts of my cozy rain forest bed at this confounded hour and log in for a little tittle of tropical sun-shinery! My mostly East Coast comrades, stuck in blustery snow, breathing air that hurts, wiping the goo from thine eyes whilst empowering the little remote start button on your keychains; it is you who grip me by my creative pants and lift me from the laziness of an early night retire in the balmy fresh air of eloquent island design. Worry not for I am here to save thee! Well... maybe humor thee for a short time with my silliness!

ON WITH IT YOU BLUBBERING GOOF!!!!!!

Ok, so... I have been very busy indeed the past week or so. I am organizing two very important campaigns for my skateboard company that are to include a clothing line and multiple advertising efforts. You have probably seen the Facebook ad for B.Lieve in B.Lo already. I apologize for my overt advertising, but I have to do it. I have to sell myself and my goods because I really do believe in it and I made a promise to myself that I would create enough income this year to support my wonderful and very patient partner, Kevin. Away I went with social media zen-like confidence hitting all the major arenas; facebook, myspace, twitter, reddit, adwords, shopify...etc. There were multiple days when I wanted to throw the computer from the back porch of my little house and let it rest deep in the slimy jungle below. I officially hate facebook as of tonight, but I'm sure my attitude will change if and when the seeds begin to sow. Support us in the effort if you can!

On top of this work, I have been very busy working with the children here; especially since I haven't had a car in over a week. I have begun writing proposals, grants, budgets, letters...etc. I have met with a few influential folks who may be able to make a difference. I have started a facebook fan page for Casa Suiza Puerto Rico that will soon have a donation button on it so people can donate directly through check, credit card, paypal...etc. This effort required ample search and survey through Lucy's NFP paperwork to acquire tax id numbers, banking information and the like. I still have much to do, but I am happy and more importantly, Lucy is thrilled with the opportunities we've finally created. It has been a serious uphill battle here getting things straight and finding resources where very few seem to exist. I have endured much challenge mentally, financially and emotionally. Still at this moment, I am smiling with a cold Medalla on my side and fresh mountain air filling my lungs. My confidence; restored.

The picture above was taken by the boys when we went to the beach on Sunday. That is an interesting and enlightening story to share. I sometimes offer to take the boys to the beach on the weekends. It serves two purposes: 1. Getting the boys out of Lucy's hair for half a day 2. Getting all of us boys off the mountain and to the beach for some fun. I usually get the go ahead from Lucy and Marjan the night before, which excites the boys to no end. You should see how quickly and politely the chores get done the next morning. Usually by the time I have gone over to the main house to sip some coffee they are all ambling around waiting patiently for my cue to pack the van and go. Politics reign supreme in all courts of human behavior. Cooler, frisbee and towels packed and we head off for Luquillo in the big white box! Ha ha... I sometimes think that I probably look like some crazy church pastor taking the kids off to Bible study or retreat, while we saunter this way and that in the old passenger van. Get a little closer though and you will know that nothing could be further from that reality. The reggaeton is blaring, the boys (all of which are teenaged) are hooting and hollering, singing, looking for girls in passing cars, and cursing. I try to keep the cursing to a minimum, but otherwise I let them have their unleashed fun. I think boys need that.

By the time we get to the beach, everyone is smiling and of pleasant disposition. We tramp down to the sand and mark our territory for the day's festivities. Said festivities usually begin with everyone ripping their shirts off and hauling ass to crystal clear blue waters of Luquillo! After swimming and playing frisbee the boys will take turns doing backflips and acrobatics all over the beach and in the water. They are all quite athletic, Jorge being the most like a gymnast. He can do multiple flips, cartwheels and acrobatic jumps and often draws a small crowd of spectators. Sometimes he will do a flip off of my shoulders and land feet first as if finishing a floor exercise at the olympics. Such fun!

Later in the afternoon the boys commandeered a football from another beach goer and prompted me to play with them. I suggested two hand touch... they insisted upon tackle. I thought, "Shit... I hope I don't break any bones!" I tried to explain to them that I was once a fullback and quite a good one at that. Plus I am at least 100 pounds heavier than any of the slick little bastards and a fierce competitor in any sport once I get playing. My concerns fell on deaf ears.

" Bring on the pigskin bitches!"

It was a slaughter of epic proportions. They couldn't tackle me walking, let alone running and on top of that, they couldn't block me or stop me from tackling them. I was the iron curtain of Puerto Rican football. The guy who gave us the ball kept laughing as the boys did everything in their power to try to score and keep me from scoring. Bodies flew this way and that, one from a stiff arm, another from a ducking maneuver, another from a juke. I often let them all get their hands on me to try and drag me down, and just shook them off like a horse shakes flies from its back. It was a hideous victory. There were probably close to a hundred people watching at one point and the boys' collective machismo pride kept them coming back for more. I tried to go light on them, but my killer instinct wouldn't let it happen. They came full speed every run. I'd toss aside the blockers and wrap the runner in my arms first and tell them that the play was stopped. They would insist upon trying to escape and I'd slam them into the sand without mercy. I have to give them credit for trying though. They came at me every time with guns a blazing and expectations of finally scoring.

My compassionate side let them sneak past me for two scores towards the end of the game and how they rejoiced!!! You would have thought that it was they who were kicking my ass all along. They danced, chanted and commenced the shit talking... you know that game ended soon after!

Smiling, tired, breathless, with sand defacing every human crevasse, we hit the water for a rinse. High fives went all around as the boys re-capped the game with each other in Spanish. Somehow, despite the pitiful loss, they kept their spirits high and boisterous, happy to have had the experience. They spoke joyfully of the game and re enacted some of their favorite moments, which were usually to their demise. This touched me deeply. How many times do kids in the states go out and give their best effort? How many times do they willingly face a much bigger, seemingly un-beatable opponent with such intensity play after play, knowing full well that they will not win even a down, then leave the field smiling, merely happy to be alive and playing a game? I'd say almost never anymore...you have to look hard to find it at least. Here was this small, haphazard group of children with almost everything in the world going against them, most born into awful circumstances and obstacles in life that most of us will never see, high five-ing and enjoying the pure love of sport. I don't think they had any idea how much this simple philosophy of effort and positive attitude in the face of defeat impacted me. If I were in battle, I would be quick to make them my soldiers, and great ones they would be....

I hope that you fight hard when life gets tough, and emerge with a smile on your face even in defeat... for playing the game of life is a blessing in itself. Until next time, much cheer and love, Jeremy

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Chapter Four has arrived...

Sammy sat straight up in his bed. He felt it rumbling a bit on his floor. Some plaster dust from the ceiling fell near his feet then the shaking stopped. He turned over on his bed and tried to go back to sleep. The bed and room rumbled more violently, dropping a huge chunk of plaster onto the floor. “Whack!” He sat up again. He thought it might be an earthquake, but earthquakes almost never happened in the Buffalo area. He looked around the room and adjusted his eyes to the dark. All was quiet again. The wind in Buffalo could feel like an earthquake at times and shake a house to its foundation. He listened for the cold, howling sound of Father Winter blowing through the night. The room was silent still, and Sammy could barely feel the drafts from the old window. Not wanting his imagination to get the best of him, he slipped under the blankets on his bed and closed his eyes. The tremors started instantly. This time the bed was shaking so much that he had to hold onto the sides to stay in it. He didn’t dare make a sound. He couldn’t close his eyes. As a matter of fact, it was almost as if someone else was holding them open. “Definitely an earthquake!” he thought. Then, as if by some sort of magic, the bed began to spin slowly with Sammy in it. “What the heck is going on?” he thought as he clung to the frame looking all around him at the spinning room. The bed spun a little faster, pushing aside his dresser and some of the items in his bedroom. Then the strange noises began. He could hear a distortion of voices speaking and all manner of clocks ringing and clanging at the same time. The noises got louder as the bed spun faster and faster. Sammy was overcome with fear. Nichols or not, he was in a total state of fright. He tried to scream for his mother, but strangely no sound would come out of his mouth. He tried again. Nothing. He gripped the bed with all of his might and tried to close his eyes. The bed circled like a top spinning out of control on an old table. The unrecognizable chatter of the voices and the sound of clocks clanging grew to a deafening pitch. He felt like he could die any second.

“STOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!” he screamed as hard as he could with his mind. Suddenly, all went calm. He looked around his room. Surprisingly, everything looked the same. No plaster was on the floor and the dresser was back in its original position against the wall. He couldn’t figure out what just happened. The first thought that came to his mind was his mother and the girls. He sprang out of bed, but when he did, everything felt a little different. He had a warm and fuzzy feeling in his body and his mind was calm and tranquil. He took his father’s wristwatch from his pocket. 2:31 am. “This is peculiar,” he thought as his feet hit the floor. He couldn’t feel the cold hardwood at all. As he walked, he felt nothing in his feet and legs at all. He was moving for sure, but the sensation of the cold floor was missing. He had walked through the house a million times in his life, but never like this. As he moved room to room, he felt something was different. Everything looked like it had been before he went to bed, but something certainly felt different. He walked to the room where his mom and the twins slept and there they were, sleeping calmly. He wondered how they could have slept through such ruckus.

He walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. It worked just fine. Then he turned on the lights in the kitchen. The room lit up. “O.K… so maybe I was dreaming” he thought as he moved about the kitchen looking at everything. One of the girls had left a sippy cup on the table. He picked it up and rinsed it out in the sink. While rinsing, he noticed something strange. He didn’t feel the water running over his fingers. He tried hot water. Nothing. “Weird” he said to himself. He thought to go try a shower. Instantly he was standing in the shower with his clothes on. “Whooooaaaa…. Really freakin’ weird!” he said to himself. He couldn’t figure out how he got there except for the fact that he thought to try taking a shower to figure out why he couldn’t feel water against his skin. How could a simple thought lead to this? Sammy took his clothes off and got into the shower. He turned the cold water on first and couldn’t feel it at all. Then he turned on the hot water and he couldn’t feel that either. He didn’t feel the sensation of being wet, even though he was standing directly under the shower with full pressure. “How can this be?” he said. He stood under the water for nearly five minutes in a trance like state trying to figure out what was going on with his body. He could feel nothing. He started to panic and a strong sense of anxiety crept into his mind. He thought he might be very ill, or maybe, maybe…he was dead.

Instantly he was back in his bed. He gasped for air and sat straight up. He felt like he just woke up. He wasn’t wet at all. “This is getting strange,” he thought. He pulled the wristwatch out of his pocket. 2:31am. He tapped it to make sure it was working. Within twenty seconds it switched to 2:32am. Strange indeed. Sammy had spent the past ten or fifteen minutes roaming his house, playing with water, taking a shower, and freaking out… and time had virtually stopped.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor a second time. It was ice cold to the touch. He crept into the kitchen. The lights were on. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom. “What the…?”