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Stories & Scripts

Source: Adults

Author: Isabella Thornston

Title: The Story

Our lands consisted of two properties
which were stocked full of ample trees and shrubs
for hide and go seek and open spaces for any ball
sport or freezebe toss we chose. Daylight or dark made no druther to us
we were impervious to any danger. We were the oldest of seven
children between your siblings and mine and that made us
without question the highest ranking heatherns in the yard(or house, which we rarely
played in}. My mind takes me to that nieghborhood wonderland
of my youth where we escaped our parents, and our problems.
and let our imaginations and our energy take us to the heights
of the magical kingdom that only youth can give you passage to.

The Mulberry Tree

There was one tree located in your yard which was the largest and
tallest of any other tree in our kingdom. It's branches forged perfect
little crooks and perches just the right size for climbing. In this particular
tree on any summer day you could find seven children all perched in
their loft chowing down on mulberries. Man were they good! Larger
than a blackberry and much more fun to attain. After we ate our fill, without
washing them of course, enevitably one of us would start a fight by throwing
a fist full of mulberries at another. Well, before you knew it the Mulberry Tree had
been magically turned into a fort, with seven little monkies climbing from
station to station looking for more and more amunition to throw.
We would come home with stained clothes and our mothers would not be happy.
But who could resist the fun and fanticy of the Mulberry Tree!

Ronco Records

Sometimes on Friday nights we would come to your house for pizza and
Gospel music. Really we didn't get to sing. Our parents would gather around
your piano as my mother played and your mother sat next to her on the bench, the men, our fathers
huddled together behind them crouching down to see the words on the sheet music.
We were not allowed in on this event. Our jobs were to go and play. So we did.
We went to "the back bedroom" and got out the little suitcase record player.
Your Mom had ordered the "Ronco Records" collection and she let us listen
to them on those Gospel singing nights. I remember the room didn't have
any funiture in it which made it great for slinging. You and I slung eachother
into obliviion to the song "Let's go to the Hopp" over and over. The other children tried
too but we were mean and often wouldn't stop to give them their turn on
the "dance floor". To this very day every time I hear that song I think of us kids
slinging our everloving brains out to the HOPP. Man that was fun.

The Drive IN

Your Dad gave my Dad and Mom a red plymouth stationwagon. I don't know the details but it used
to be your Mom's car, and I guess you guys moved up and we inherited your old one. anyway something like that.
It was great. Hugh, heavy, airconditioned, and in the very back of it there was a seat.
Once our mothers took us kids to the drive in. Do you remember? You and I had the back
of the car, why? Well because of our rank as I recall because some of the other children
wanted it. but anyway, we were kings of the hill. Watching the big screen at the drive in with
our popcorn. Funny, I can't remember the flick we saw.

The Funeral

Thirty one years had passed when I recieved a call that your father had died. I knew immediately I'd be there. The service was a military one, which was very moving. I sat facing you and your siblings as the service commenced. The folding of the flag, the kind spoken eulogy, the shots fired, the marine soldier handing you the flag. My playmate had grown to be a
strong man of 40 something. Straight backed starring in the soldiers eyes, tears rolling down your face. I could not watch
your pain. My own stomache began to reject what my eyes were taking in as a truth. I know I never told you but your were so dear to me in my childhood. Those are just words children don't bother to waste time on when they are slaying dragons and defending forts. Truly you were. But now the time of magic has passed leaving in it's stead life with no mulberries to throw.

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