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Date Posted: 13:02:42 12/13/99 Mon
Author: - Barry
Author Host/IP: zoom.lafn.org / 206.117.18.8
Subject: Here's a male tale

Oh, BTW, these are out of old files... so please pardon the wild characters and missspelllingz. This is a story for a male child... of which, to my shame, I have none. If anyone knows how to get a dime out of these... there are lord a plenty of 'em laying around this old diskdrive. - Barry

© 1987 N. Barry Carver no portion may be used without permission

Billy Woke Up A Boy

William Dussen, Jr., his friends called him Billy, graduated from the forth grade yesterday. He'll be eleven in tomorrow. All his friends would come over for a party in the afternoon and the family was due to celebrate that night. He couldn't wait. Being eleven would be great. And a birthday party would make it even better! He'd already peeked at the new bike hidden behind the refrigerator box in the garage. He overheard Mom calling the cake order in to the bakery - Devil's food cake with coconut frosting - his very favorite flavors. He picked out the theme for the event - Dinosaur Rampage! All his books and posters and models of the omnivores, carnivores and herbivores had been a great help in picking out the decorations, placemats and hats.
Billy put the finishing touches on the last party hat - the one he would wear - Triceratops! The three horns coming up out of that well armored head reminded Billy of a king's crown and tomorrow he would be king for the day. Billy's mom came upstairs to tell him it was time for bed. When she saw his party hat she said, "That's wonderful. You will be the king of the Dinosaur Rampage!" This made Billy feel good. It was nice that Mom understood what he had made - and why.
He washed behind his ears and brushed his teeth. He kissed his Mom and Dad good night. He marched up the stairs, climbed into bed and put out the light. As Billy went to sleep that night he felt warm and cozy and loved. He slept all night and had wondrous dreams of dinosaurs and about how good it would be to finally be eleven.
When Billy woke up he jumped out of bed. He put on his party hat and went to look in the big mirror in the bathroom. The hat looked just fine, he did a good job. But in the mirror was a little kid, no different than the one who was there yesterday. He looked down his throat and looked in his eye. He looked at his hand and his foot, his belly and his butt, his knee and his elbow and even up his nose. But nothing had changed. He looked like he was only ten!
Maybe, Billy thought, I'll have to wait until the end of the day. After all turning eleven was an important change. There is no way it could have happened and not be seen. Billy went back to his room, got himself dressed and wrote a note to check again at the end of the day.
Billy came into the kitchen just as Mom called everyone to breakfast. Mom finished setting the table and Dad sliced a cantaloupe. Billy got the milk from the fridge and his big sister, Tina, poured coffee for Mom and Dad. It was, all in all, just the same as any other day.
When Billy saw the words "Happy Birthday" written in jam on the bottom of his cereal bowl it made him feel good. But not different. He ate the cereal and a slice of cantaloupe, finished his milk and went outside.
Tina, walked past him on the way to catch her bus. "Have a good one, Squirt." She always called him that, 'Squirt', and, even though he didn't like being thought of as short, he knew Tina didn't mean to insult him. She really like him alot. He could just tell.
He looked around the yard and then down the block. He saw Tom's house. Tom was Billy's best friend but today, Billy thought, he'd like to be by himself. He walked out back, behind the garage, opened the gate and walked off down the dirt road that went behind the houses.
. . Page 2 . . . . .

He walked for a block or two and then turned off into the woods. It really wasn't much. Just a small stand of trees that separated the dirt road from the park. A little creek ran through here and made a duck pound on the edge of the park. The park itself belonged to the subdivision on the other side of the pond.
Billy walked through the trees, hopped the creek and went over to the swings. They had always seemed a bit to small for him, but today - even though he was eleven - they didn't feel any smaller. That was it, Billy thought, it's just another day. Twelve, eleven, fourteen it made no difference. I'll always be just like I am today. He knew the party would be fun - but it wouldn't change anything.
Billy realized he was just sitting in the swing when Tom came out of the woods and ran over to him.
"Hey Billy, c'mon lets go play a game."
"Nah. I'm kinda saving my energy for the party. " Said Billy.
Tom sat down in the swing beside him, "You feelin' okay?"
"Fine," said Billy "I just expected to... be a little more... I don't know."
After a moment Tom said, "I saw your Grandpa's car at your house."
"I guess I better get home." said Billy as he slid out of the swing. Tom and Billy walked back through the woods and down the road in silence.
"See ya at two thirty." Said Tom, as they reached his house. Billy waved good-bye and walked down to his own back gate.
He came into the house through the back door and could here Grandma in the kitchen. She was talking with Mom about something she'd seen in the paper. When Billy came in he got the usual greeting: A big hug, one kiss on each cheek and Grandma saying, "How big you're getting!" It was nice but - not different. As he turned toward the dining room Grandpa stepped into the doorway. Grandpa wasn't a very tall man, he was about half way between Billy's size and Dad's. But somehow he filled that doorway and something was different about him.
"Congratulations young man." Grandpa said, and he put out his hand. Billy's hand seemed to disappear as he shook hands with Grandpa. "I've got something I want to give you before all your friends get here. Come with me."
Grandpa led Billy out to his car in the driveway. He opened the trunk and pulled out a bag that had something wrapped in an oily towel in it. "Let's take a walk." Grandpa said.
Billy thought he should tell Mom he was leaving but then he thought Grandpa can't go that far - it'll be fine.
To Billy's surprise Grandpa walked out back to the dirt road and looked both ways, he was searching for something. Finally he saw what he wanted and started walking toward the woods.
Whatever was in the bag was light and thin and Grandpa carried it in one hand as he walked down the road. When they reached the woods Grandpa slowed down. He was listening and looking around as he walked straight to the creek. When he reached the creekside he sat down on the ground. "Will you sit with me?" Grandpa asked.
"Sure." Said Billy and he did. He had never sat here in the woods and never really talked with Grandpa. This present must something special Billy thought.
. . Page 3 . . . .

"I want you close your eyes and put out your hands and keep very, very still." Grandpa said. Here it comes, thought Billy. But he sat there for a few minutes before anything happened.
"Just be still" Grandpa repeated, "and listen."
At first Billy didn't hear anything. Then he heard an airplane, a small one, far away, and then it was gone. When he couldn't hear the plane any more he started hearing other things.
There were two birds nearby. First one would call and then the other would answer. Further away some sparrows were chattering. He couldn't tell how many there were but it seemed they all had something to say.
Then Billy heard the creek gurgling and bubbling. It sounded small but powerful. It sounded like it had a job to do that only it understood and, even if the job were a small one, it was a very important job all the same. As Billy listened to the sound he felt it become a kind of music. A basic, gentle, important music. Then Billy heard the trees. There wasn't much wind today but the leaves above still made a rustle. Some branch creaked somewhere over their heads and the quiet scratching of tree bark meant a squirrel was playing nearby.
It was a long while until Billy noticed another sound - Grandpa. He was quietly sitting not more than three feet away. He heard Grandpa's slow rhythmic breathing. He heard a slight crinkle from the bag that now laid on Grandpa's crossed legs. Then Grandpa took a deep breath.
"The most important thing about being eleven is that it only happens once. Like a lot of things that are going to happen in your life, you have to experience them as they occur. The good things and the bad things are all real, all important and all yours. Don't be afraid to be open to the experience."
"You are young and can't wait to be older, bigger and have more things. When I was young, I felt the same way - but that's not what life's about. This is." Then Grandpa opened the bag, unfolded the towel and pulled out a stick. He looked the stick over and then handed it to Billy. It was about two and a half feet long and was carved full of long, curved lines. The top was cut into a kind of knob and the bottom came to a soft point.
"This is a walking stick. I made it out of a branch from the walnut tree I cut down this spring. I planted that tree when your Father was born. It's exactly as old as he is. When I saw it was sick this year I decided to cut it down and plant another tree in its place.
So this walking stick is unique, there's a special sort of magic in it. There will never be another one just like it. It is like everything here, everything in nature - one of a kind. Just like me, just like your dad and just like William Dussen, Jr. It serves a unique purpose. It was a branch from a tree and now it's branch from me to you. It's a symbol of your personal history.
You are old enough understand that you are the son of my son and that I am the son of a man you can only know through my memories. None of us lives forever except in the hearts of those who remember us. So my father and grandfather live in me just as your father and I will always be with you. This is important to remember."
Billy thought about that for a minute. He wondered about his great Grandpa. What was being eleven like for him? And what about his great grandfather?
.. Page 4 . . . . .

This is amazing, thought Billy. There were actually people related to him that were around when the country was young. Some others that lived before that in Europe or Asia or Africa. Still others that might have helped build the pyramids or sailed ancient ships. Billy began to think that he was a part of a lot of people. It was incredible to think that it took so many different people to make one eleven year old boy.
"There is more." said Grandpa. He could see his grandson's amazement and was proud share this moment of discovery.
"This is not just a branch to your personal history. This is a connection to the Earth. When you walk with this stick you should walk slow. You should listen and feel everything around you. Just like you did today."
"Breathe deep and feel all the power... in the stream, in the ground, in the wind and the trees. The slow steady pulse that is the same for you as it is for me. It has been the same beat since the world began and it will stay the same forever."
"The power that made the mountains, made you. And now you have a symbol of your connection to that power. Some day that walking stick may break or wear out with age. That is something you will never do. Your connection is permanent. You have thought of your ancestors but you too will be an ancestor to many people. One day you will be the grandfather and live in the heart of your son's son."
"You are a child of Nature, wild and free. You are just right - just the way you are."
"And you are a son of Man in absolute control of who you become. You are a strong link in a chain that leads back to Adam. Though we don't know where we're going, we do know where we're from."
"This is a lot to think about... but you're lucky, you have your whole life to enjoy the possibilities."
After another long silence, filled with the rhythms of the water and ground and air, Grandpa spoke again.
"It's still morning and your party doesn't begin until mid-afternoon. I'm going back now. You stay until you feel ready to come back. Don't rush." Grandpa said as stood up and started to move quietly away.
Billy tried to talk but no sound came out. When he cleared his throat Grandpa turned around and waited. Then the words he had always said so automatically came out in a new voice. A voice that was quiet and strong, gentle and powerful. In that very good new voice he looked his father's father in the eye and said, "I... love... you."
The older man considered the younger man carefully and simply said, "I know." He took a deep breath, showed an open smile and walked slowly away.
Deep in his heart the youngest living Mr. Dussen knew that the oldest living Mr. Dussen loved him more than had ever suspected. He only sat for a few minutes. He wanted to use his walking stick - to try out his new connection. He walked to a tree and put his face against the bark. He put his fingers in the cracks of the giant maple. He saw a pair of ants crawling down the tough trunk. He tasted the bitter sap that leaked out a small hole just over his head. He began to know this old tree that he had run past a thousand times. He closed his eyes and rested on the tree. After a moment he began to feel dizzy. He opened his eyes and realized a long time had passed.
.. Page 5 . . . . .

He closed his eyes again and listened to the tree. It was creaking. This was the tree he had heard earlier. It made him dizzy because it was swaying gently in the breeze. And he was swaying with it. Their power was equal.
He wanted to drink from the creek, to study the spider web on the rotting log, to crack open a rock and look at something no one had ever seen. But he saw the sun had moved past being straight overhead and he wanted to enjoy his party too.
He had to remind himself to walk slowly with his stick. There was so much here! Just a strip of trees had become a rich, dark, fascinating place.
When he reached the road he looked a long way in both directions. He understood he was on a good, familiar, old road and he decided he would turn toward home.
He noticed the number of river stones that were here in the road. He felt the smooth, hard steel of the back gate. He saw the swirled grain in the wooden back door.
When he reached the kitchen he saw the decorations were all in place. The cake looked great. And the clock said it was five after two. He heard his parents and grandparents talking politics in the dining room. He decided he wasn't ready to be with everyone just yet and went up the back stairs.
He looked around his room and choose to put his walking stick in the corner by his bed. So it would always be nearby when he wanted it. He went to his dresser and saw the note he'd left there.
"Check again" was all he had written. Now it sounded like a very good idea. He walked down to the bathroom and looked in the big mirror. He looked down his throat and looked at his hand. He took off his shoe and looked at his foot, then his belly, his knee and his elbow and even up his nose. Somehow, everything had changed. Then he saw why. It wasn't that he was eleven - that was just part of it. He saw that his face looked a little like his Dad's.
He thought that he must've looked this way all along. What changed by turning eleven was that now he could see that he was like Grandpa too. What had changed was something in his eye.
It isn't how you look that means you're growing-up. It's where you look and what you choose to see.
He left his party hat on the bed - he didn't want to wear it yet. He walked down the front stairs and into the dining room. The four adults stopped talking and turned to the young man. He took a deep breath and looked each of them in the eye a moment and said - in that same new voice.
"I am eleven." He felt a little nervous about this but it felt good too. "I would like to be called 'Will', like my father."
Will, Sr. put his hand over his eyes and Grandma actually made a sound. Mom looked very proud and Grandpa closed his eyes and nodded as a slow smile took over his face.
William Dussen, Sr. then stood up and had to clear his throat.
"You'd better get ready for your party, Will , your friends will be here any minute."
Nothing else was said. Nothing more needed to be said.

The party was fantastic. The cake was delicious. The presents were fine.
.. Page 6. . . . . .
Will's friends all thought the name 'Will' was a good change from 'Billy'. All in all it was a very good Birthday.
Will went to sleep that night and this time he dreamt of his ancestors and those in the far future to whom he would be an ancestor. He dreamt of the trees he would plant, gardens he would harvest and the world he would help to make.
When the sun shone through his bedroom window his eyes opened and he was awake.
For the first time William Dussen, Jr., his friends call him Will, woke up a young man. And it was good.
© 1987 N. Barry Carver no portion may be used without permission

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