Colorful poster showing caption 1:1.

I Will

“As trouble tries to spread throughout the land,
It’s time to rise and boldly take a stand
For character and honor, and choosing to be free
From harmful things that try to capture me.

I’ll find the strength if I must stand alone.
I’ll face the fear and pressure I have known.
I will not bow for others, their wishes to fulfill,
If I must be the only one, I will.

I will make a difference, I will take a stand,
I will be an answer, will you take my hand?
Together forever, a future to build,
Who will make a difference? I will.

If you’ll walk beside me, there’s nothing we can’t do
If one can make a difference, there’s no limit with two.

I will make a difference, I will take a stand,
I will be an answer, will you take my hand?
Together forever, a future to build,
Who will make a difference? I will.”

Lyrics by Dale Parsons

I wrote this song twenty-five years ago for a county campaign against drugs.

Colorful poster showing caption 1:1.

Make a Difference

According to the internet (and, after all, if it’s on the internet, it’s true, right?) the chance of becoming a professional athlete is 0.00075%. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t dream, but you have a very long road ahead of you.

The chance of becoming a superstar musician is 0.000001%. That doesn’t mean you should quit band and stop taking piano or voice lessons.

The chance of becoming a professional gamer is between 0.01% and 0.03%.

The chance of making a difference is 1:1. If you are breathing, you can make a difference. One in one.

“I will make a difference, I will take a stand.
I will be an answer, will you take my hand?
Together forever, a future to build.
Who will make a difference? I will.”

Make Your Own Static Grass Applicator for Realistic Scenes

This definitely has to go in the category, “If I can do this, absolutely anyone can.” I made my own static grass applicator that really works!

I’ve been working steadily on the scenery of The Maple Valley Short Line Model Railroad. I’m creating scenes with more detail than I have on any other layout. On my previous model railroads I was happy with paint and some turf sprinkled here and there. The Maple Valley Short Line will probably be my last layout, so I’m doing it right.

I visited many sites showing modelers using static grass applicators, but when I looked at the cost I decided standing weeds weren’t necessary. I changed my mind. I started looking for videos showing how to make a static grass applicator and found several.

Blah Flag electric bag zapper and small strainer.

The self-built models are all pretty similar. It wasn’t difficult to find the parts. It was harder trying to tell myself I could actually do this and have it work.

The Black Flag Hand Held bug zapper I purchased for $10.95 at Home Depot promised to deliver 2750 volts of shocking power to any little critters that happened to get too close. It also delivered a powerful shock to my finger!

I found a small Farberware plastic strainer with a metal screen mesh to use as the grass spreader.

Separate pieces of bug zapper and small strainer.

I first removed all the screws from the back of the handle. Three screws held the zapper screen in place, three more screws were in the battery compartment. Once the screws were removed the pieces came apart easily.

Electric bug zapper wand wires exposed.

There were no screws in the wand, so I forced a screw driver blade into the seam to break the pieces apart. A red wire was soldered to the inner screen, a blue wire was soldered to each of the outer screens. I snipped the wires off at the screen. The two blue wires came from the same point on the control board, so I removed one.

Bug zapper handle opened to show control board.

After the extra blue wire was removed from the control board, I soldered a long green wire to the blue wire. I soldered a short red wire to the red wire from the board. The red wire carries power to the wire mesh basket. The green wire is attached to the area where the static grass will be applied. Static electricity is created by the field between the wire mesh and the surface of the layout.

Hand strainer with handle cut off, holes drilled to match screw posts. Red wire soldered to screen.

I held the strainer next to the zapper handle to see how much of the strainer handle would fit and cut off the remainder. The handle of the Farberware strainer is about the same width as the zapper handle. I held the cover of the zapper on the strainer handle and used a small drill bit to make pilot holes for the screws. I then used a larger bit, the size of the screw posts in the zapper handle, to carefully drill out the pilot holes. The handle of the strainer fits perfectly over the screw posts.

Hand strainer with holes drilled placed on screw posts in zapper handle. Red wire soldered to red wire from control board in the handle.

After tinning the wire, I poked it through the screen, made a loop and poked it back through the mesh. I twisted the wire with itself and soldered it, creating a solid connection.

Simple contact button on the side of the bug zapper handle.

The simple contact button on the side of the handle has to be held to create the static field between the two leads. The applicator is powered by two AA batteries.

Finished static grass applicator showing long green wire soldered to green wire on control board.

This is the finished product. The strainer handle fits tightly inside the zapper handle, thanks to the three screw posts. The cost of this static grass applicator was about $15.00.

I have already discovered using a static grass applicator takes some practice. I purchased some short static grass at Rider’s Hobby Shop, and I can see it’s too short. Taller grass will look more realistic in scenes where there is not much activity.

It’s best to use the static grass applicator on one small area at a time. A thinner white glue solution works better than glue right out of the bottle.

Good luck with your own static grass applicator construction. If I can do it, you can do it!

By the way, I wasn’t kidding about getting a shock. Make sure to keep your fingers away from the screen while you’re working on your scenes. You’ll find out quick, like I did, why bugs don’t like zappers!

Scandal at Maple Valley – Episode 28: Hank Rider and the Saddlehorns

Another Founders’ Day celebration has come and gone. Except for a few minor problems including a bunch of chickens escaping from a farm float during the parade and running through the streets of Maple Valley, it was a great success.

The special guest band for the main event was Hank Rider and the Saddlehorns. It’s incredible that two years in a row, Maple Valley has been able to bring in a famous country show. And just like last year, when Hank Rider sang the smash country chart topper “The Old Man”, everyone in the crowd knew the words. Tears were even seen on a few faces.

The Old Man

“I quit my job and hit the road, I married my guitar
Tired of my dead end life, it was time to be a star.
I couldn’t wait to hear the crowds all screamin’ out my name.
What happened next was all my fault, there was no one else to blame.

The first time I was on the stage there was no one in the room
‘Cept one old man way in the back, standin’ with a broom.
Well I sang my heart out anyway without a single cheer,
And when I was done the old man came and handed me a beer.

He said, ‘Son, don’t let it bother you that no one heard your songs,
I can see this kind of life just ain’t where you belong.
Pack your stuff, forget all this, today it’s not too late
To go back home where you belong before you share my fate.

He said he had a little boy he left for wealth and fame,
I didn’t care about what he said until he spoke his name.
Memories came flooding back, the name he breathed was mine,
I knew I was that little boy the old man left behind.

He said, ‘Son, I’m sorry for leaving you alone
If I could go and change it now you know I’d stay at home.
I never even thought how much my choice would cost,
But nothing I have ever done was worth the life I lost.’

I left the road and headed home to bury my guitar,
Dreams of fame and fortune didn’t get me very far.
When I arrived my little boy was standing at the door,
I knew then, and I know now, he’s what life is for.”

In other news, disturbing signs have been showing up around town. They read, “Recall Sheriff Pete Terkinberry.” Other signs are also appearing that read, “Elect Quintin O’Dillmotte, Sheriff of Kertok County”.

Sheriff Pete stepped into the Ya’ll Sit Cafe, as he does every morning, and Shorty called out from the kitchen, “Hey, Sheriff! What’s going on?! You don’t want to be sheriff anymore, or what?”

“Shorty, what are you talking about?!” Pete yelled back.

“Haven’t you seen the signs around town? Quintin wants to replace you. He says you should be recalled!” came the voice from the kitchen.

“Quintin O’Dillmotte couldn’t be sheriff of a playground!” the sheriff yelled, wishing he hadn’t. He looked around the cafe and several customers were staring at him.

Pete left the Ya’ll Sit without his coffee.


First Day Prayer

Heavenly Father,

From preschoolers to seniors, please be with our students today and every day.
Let confidence replace fear, and friends replace loneliness.

From first year to veteran, give our teachers wisdom and strength.

From para-pros to administrators, from parents and guardians to community, may all be safe, now and forever.

Amen.

Balloon Launch

I don’t have any idea what balloon launches have to do with Sunday school, but they’ve been connected for a very long time. If they’re supposed to be a way to get new people to visit a church, I don’t think anyone ever said, “Oh, look honey, there’s a balloon stuck in our tree! Maybe we should start going to church.”

When I was a kid we had a balloon launch at our Sunday school. I don’t remember why, I just remember wanting to take a few of the helium filled balloons home. Somehow I managed to snag two or three for a couple days of fun.

I tested the balloons by attaching toys to the string to see if they would float. After trying several, I discovered plastic army men were the limit. I imagined what the army guys were seeing as they slowly drifted to the ceiling.

Ten years later the fun was sucking helium out of the balloon to make my voice sound like someone had Porky Pig by the throat.

Twenty years passed before I was involved in another Sunday school balloon launch. Our little church sponsored a contest for the kids(?) to see whose balloon travelled the greatest distance. I put self-addressed cards in sandwich bags and clipped them to the strings. We promised a portable stereo to the person returning a card the farthest and to the person who let it go.

The launch day weather was perfect with a light breeze from the northwest. Thirty kids and several kiddish adults counted down. Three! Two! One! Seven balloons never made it through the birch trees beside the building.

Five weeks went by with no returns. Just as I thought we were going to save the money for the stereos, the mail carrier delivered a winner. The wrinkled and worn card was mailed from Laceyville, Pennsylvania. From our church in Michigan, the balloon travelled 379 miles! We sent a stereo to the person who returned the card, and to the youngster who launched the balloon. My faith in balloon launches was restored.

I don’t know if balloon launches are even legal anymore. I’m just glad I got to experience the excitement of watching them lift into the air, never to be seen again.

Rosebuds Cafe, the Little Gem

Everyone has heard the old saying, “Good things come in small packages.” That is absolutely true at Rosebuds Cafe in Clifford, Michigan.

We have lived in Lapeer County for nearly forty years. We often drive through the little town of Clifford, yet this morning was the first time we ate at Rosebuds Cafe. What a delightful surprise!

Many times, we have heard friends talk about Rosebuds and we had sincere intentions to try it. This morning we finally made it happen.

I don’t know the actual dimensions of the cafe, but the size of the room has nothing to do with the taste of the food.

My measure of a good restaurant is always determined by breakfast. Even though I make great pancakes at home, I enjoy ordering them when we eat out. The blueberry pancakes I had this morning were delicious. I topped them off with two eggs, over-easy, a piece of bacon I borrowed from my wife, and lots of maple syrup. Amazing!

We were especially impressed with the kindness of all the patrons and the owner. Just this morning, we met a lady who lived in Clifford her entire life and, for a brief time, lived in the very building where we were eating. Another lady has been the organist at a Baptist church in a nearby town since she was fourteen years old. The third said she was on her way to visit her aunt. She looked at the map and decided to take the back roads which led her through Clifford. Her visit to Rosebuds this morning was her first.

In my recent post entitled, “I Always Wonder About Stuff,” I said, “I wonder when the last cardboard tube of Tinkertoys left the shelf.” At Rosebuds Cafe this morning, on a shelf just above our table was several antique items including Tinkertoys, Pick Up Sticks, and Kaleidoscopes.

The cafe is decorated nicely with pictures and antiques. I first noticed the long mirror that, in old homes, was often placed above a buffet cupboard or mantel. I was especially interested in the vintage photos of buildings in Clifford.

I have a book called, “Rails Around the Thumb”, by T.J. Gaffney. It has many black and white vintage photos of steam locomotives, freight and passenger trains that were a part of life in small villages across the thumb of Michigan, including Clifford.

One of the customers we met this morning, said when she was young, steam engines chugged through town and the cinders flying from the smoke stack often set fires in the brush along the rails. She ran along the tracks with a broom and helped put out the fires. Incredible.

Rosebuds Cafe has been owned by Judy Legue for the last fifteen years. Judy is known far and wide for her delicious homemade pies. In fact, it was a recent conversation with friends who mentioned pie they enjoyed at Rosebuds Cafe that reminded us we needed to get to the restaurant. We’re so glad we did.

Judy, everyone is right. We just enjoyed the two pieces of pie we purchased this morning. I had rhubarb, my wife had peach, both with a small scoop of ice cream. Absolutely delicious!

As we left Rosebuds Cafe after breakfast, Judy Legue said, “I hope you folks will come back.” You can count on it, Judy. Rosebuds Cafe is the best new discovery we’ve made in a very long time. We’ll be back, sooner than later.

I Always Wonder About Stuff

I wonder if kids know what an Erector Set is.

I wonder if kids still like getting train sets for Christmas.

I wonder if Amos & Andy would be allowed on television now.

I wonder when the last cardboard tube of Tinker Toys left the shelf.

I wonder if any kids know about Laurel and Hardy, or The Marx Brothers, or The Bowery Boys, or The Little Rascals, or Shirley Temple.

I wonder how squirrels remember where they buried everything.

I wonder if people miss Creature Features.

I wonder if kids still fingerpaint.

I wonder if Kenner is still fun.

I wonder if John Wayne really talked like that.

I wonder if a gangster ever said, “You dirty rat, you killed my brother.”

I wonder how many fathers really know best. Mine sure didn’t.

I wonder if kids still make salt dough maps that curl up and crack.

I wonder if kids still make gun racks in wood shop class.

I wonder if any kids know about Soupy Sales, Rae Deane & Friends, Tom Terrific, Wally Gator, Natasha and Boris, and Captain Kangaroo.

I wonder when the last elementary school student was allowed to walk home for lunch.

I wonder if Liberace really had a brother named George.

I wonder if box kites are still flying.

I wonder why Play Dough smells so good.

I wonder if anyone remembers “I’m Dickens, He’s Fenster.”

I wonder if any kids know what a Sears catalog is.

I wonder if kids know what dictionaries and encyclopedias are.

I wonder if anyone else ever fried baloney on the bottom of a metal coffee can.

I wonder if people remember how to talk without their thumbs.

I wonder when was the last time someone said, “Fill ‘er up.”

Five Divided By Seven

“Smivey Stepward in Love and Other Misery” – Chapter Three

“Smivey Stepward, would you go to the board, please, and do problem number seven for the class?”  The only thing Smivey hates worse than going to the board to figure out a math problem in front of everybody is singing in choir class. Smivey thinks Mrs. Inkley loves causing students to squirm.  Making each student go to the board to work out a problem from the assignment is her favorite way of inflicting pain.  “No wonder so many kids are absent first hour,” Smivey mumbled to himself as he walked to the front. 

Math is not a difficult subject for Smivey.  He’s one of the top students in the class, but no one will ever know it.  Mrs. Inkley believes it is wrong for students to be made aware of the grades given to the rest of the class.   

He returned to his seat after working the problem flawlessly.  “Nice work, Smivey.  Thank you.”   

“You’re welcome, your most royal highness, goddess of pain” he thought without saying a word. 

The only good part about Math class is Elizabeth Musker, his only love since first grade.  He was in the same class as Elizabeth in first, third and fourth grades.  Now he only sees her in Math class and Home Studies, which is where you learn how to cook stuff for when you get older and have to live by yourself.  Smivey heard from other kids they will eventually learn how to sew and iron clothes.  It seems like such a waste.  His mother cooks everything so why does he have to know how to do it? 

Even though Smivey has been in the same class as Elizabeth Musker several times, he has never spoken to her.  He has never been brave enough to speak her name loud enough that she could hear it.  The only time he ever says her name out loud is when he’s alone.  Alone with the thoughts of her beautiful long brown hair, her sparkling eyes, her perfect nose, her lips…he can’t even think about her lips, and her cheeks with just a few freckles sprinkled here and there, not too many, just enough.  Nothing like the smear of freckles on his own face that to him looks like he was too close to an exploding can of red paint.   

Elizabeth spoke to Smivey one time.  It was in the fourth grade.  He was so embarrassed by what she said he nearly died on the spot.  “Smivey, your zipper is down.”  The words still ring in his ears three years later.  He had just returned to class after using the bathroom and she was the first one to see he forgot to zip his pants. 

Smivey writes poems and letters to Elizabeth, thoughts of his abiding love for her that she will never read.  He would be horrified if anyone ever read them, let alone Elizabeth Musker. 

Elizabeth, my flower, my one and only love 
On you my love would shower, like raindrops from above 
How can I ever tell you of the warmth I hold inside 
For you, my lovely flower, don’t know the love I hide. 
 
Smivey would die if anyone ever found the notes and poems he has written to Elizabeth.  He has been writing things and hiding them ever since the first grade.  He still has every single one, hidden in the tin box inside his secret hiding place.  He’s embarrassed by some of the things he wrote when he was seven years old, but to throw them away would be like throwing away part of Elizabeth.  He couldn’t bear to do that.  

One time when he was by himself, Smivey read one of the first poems he wrote to her. 

Oh Elizabeth, Elizabeth, 
I really like your name 
I think it’s good, 
I hope you feel the same. 

Another one he wrote when Elizabeth was sick. 

Elizabeth, today I heard you have the flu 
I hope you feel better, I really do 
It’s not fun to throw up 
I hope it doesn’t happen to you. 
 

Larry doesn’t even know how Smivey feels about Elizabeth.  He won’t tell anyone because he is afraid she will find out.  For now, it is enough for him to share two classes with her. 

Smivey is sad when the bell rings.  He won’t see Elizabeth again until Home Studies class last hour.  Every day he watches her leave the classroom and continues to keep her in sight until she turns down the hall to her next class.  Being near Elizabeth in first hour gives Smivey strength enough to make it through second hour. 

“Why do I have to learn how to sing?  Why does the school need a choir?  Whose idea was this, anyway?” Smivey thought as he walked to choir class.  As he shuffles along, getting closer to the choir room he hears the voice of Luciano Pavorotti wafting through the hall.  Every day it’s the same thing.  Mr. Shermer plays the same music as students enter the room.  

“Choir, just listen to this tremendous voice!” he always says, like it was the first time he ever said it, and the first time the students ever heard it.  “Listen!  Try to drink in the power of his voice, the depth of his emotion, the incredible strength of his spirit!”  As the song concludes, Mr. Shermer continues, “Choir members, listen to me.  Music carries the emotion of the soul like nothing else!  Music communicates when every other voice is silent!  Music can lift the spirit, give strength to the weak, courage to the fearful!”  Smivey thinks maybe Mr. Shermer used to be a preacher.  He doesn’t know where else he could have learned to give speeches like this. 

“Choir, take out Springtime In My Love’s Caress, by Truman Calver” Mr. Shermer said, stepping to the podium.   

“We shouldn’t be singing songs like this” Smivey thought as he found the music in his folder.  “It’s so embarrassing.”   

“Altos, I would like to begin with you today.  Please start at measure fourteen.  Miss Kirtz, their note please.”   

Gretchin Kirtz has been taking piano lessons since she was four years old.  Smivey can’t stand to watch her.  She acts like she’s playing in front of thousands of people.  She always sits straight up and nods when Mr. Shermer tells her what to do. She lifts her hand slowly, and gently brings her finger down on the key like she’s afraid it will splinter into a million pieces if she touches it too hard.  “Okay altos, one and two and…” 
 

“Softly, softly, walking through the meadow 
Feeling such a warmth within my breast…” 
 

It’s the word “breast” that is just too much.  “We shouldn’t be singing this.  Why can’t we sing something by the Beatles?  No one has ever heard of Truman Calver or his stupid song about something warm in my breast” Smivey thought as he heard muffled laughter coming from the back row. 

“Gentlemen!”  Mr. Shermer yelled as the altos stopped singing.  “How many times must I tell you that the term “breast” in this song does not mean what you’re thinking!  The breast is referred to as the deepest part of the heart.  The songwriter is expressing his deep feeling for his one true love.  Please choir.  You can do this.” 

“Okay, altos, one more time.  One and two and…” 
 

“Softly, softly, walking through the meadow 
Feeling such a warmth within my breast 
Gently, gently, she comes ever nearer 
Longing for the touch of my caress…” 
 

“Very nice, very nice.  Okay, choir, let’s start at the beginning.  Miss Kirtz, the introduction please, one and two and…”  

Gretchen plays the introduction perfectly, just like she does every time, and the choir began singing.  In spite of Smivey’s thoughts about the song, it actually sounded pretty good.  When Mr. Shermer first gave them the music Smivey decided to just stop singing when they got to the word “breast.”  It reminded him too much of hearing his mother talking about healthy bowels.  

“Softly, softly, walking through the meadow 
Feeling such a warmth within my breast” 
 
Just at that moment there came a loud snort from the back row.  Mr. Shermer stopped the choir.  “Thomas Mindler, you go to the office this instant!  Mr. Stoker, do you want to join him?”   

“No,” Michael Stoker answered.   

Mr. Shermer asked, “Mr. Herney, what is wrong with you?”   

Steven Herney was laughing so hard his face was radish red but he hadn’t made a sound.   

“Answer me!”  Mr. Shermer demanded.   

When Steven tried to talk he sprayed spit all over Smivey’s back.   

“That’s it,” Mr. Shermer hollered, “You go to the office, too!” 

Once the commotion ended, Mr. Shermer started again.  “Okay, choir, from the beginning of Mr. Calver’s piece.  One and two and…”  

Just at that moment the bell rang.  Smivey was never so glad to hear anything in his life.   

“Choir, remember, fall concert is coming up in three weeks.  Make sure your parents have it on their calendar!” Mr. Shermer yelled as everyone hurried out of the classroom. 

Third hour is almost as bad as choir, but not quite.  Smivey’s Science teacher, Mrs. Cloverton, is his only teacher who demands a seating chart.  Smivey has to sit right next to Gretchen Kirtz every day.  He has a feeling she likes him and it makes him wish he could quit school. 

“Good morning, Smivey,” Gretchen said. 

“Hey, Gretch,” he answered, knowing she hates it, but he continues calling her Gretch so that maybe she’ll get the message he doesn’t want her to like him, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.   

“How do you like the song we’re working on in choir?”  Gretchen asked. 

The only thing Smivey could dislike more than singing the song is talking about it.  “I hate it,” he answered.   

“I just love it,” Gretchen said, looking off into the distance.  “I can picture the man and woman coming toward each other in the meadow.  Can’t you?”   

“No,” Smivey said without looking at her.  “I picture two trains crashing into each other high on a bridge and falling down into a deep canyon.” 

Gretchen Kirtz is actually a very nice girl.  There are boys who like her, but she likes Smivey.  She is always dressed very nicely, in fact too nicely.  Smivey thinks it has something to do with her music.  She always looks like she’s on her way to church.  She wears a dress every day, and no girls wear dresses to school.  She always wears shiny black shoes.  She doesn’t look like the kind of girl who has ever ridden a bike or gotten dirty playing in a barn.  Some students make fun of Gretchen.  Smivey doesn’t do that. He just doesn’t want her to like him.  And he sure doesn’t want anyone to think he likes her. 

Smivey doesn’t know very much about Gretchen, only that her father is a doctor and delivers all of the babies in town.  He is pretty sure it is Gretchen’s mother who runs Pretty Petals, the flower shop in town.  Somehow to Smivey it seems only natural that a girl who dresses like Gretchen and likes songs about meadows would have a mother who works in a flower shop.  The only time he was ever in the store was with his mother.  They had just finished the grocery shopping and she had to stop to pick up flowers for Grandma Stepward who was in the hospital.  She had to have her gall bladder taken out.  The smell in the flower shop almost made Smivey sick to his stomach. 

Other than Math class and Home Studies when he gets to see Elizabeth, Smivey’s favorite time of the day is lunch.  He always meets Larry in the hallway before going into the cafeteria.   

The lunchroom where they eat is connected to the cafeteria.  Only students who buy hot lunch are allowed to eat in the cafeteria.  Larry and Smivey think it’s unfair they are not allowed to eat in the cafeteria, but each day they file into the lunchroom with all the other students who bring lunch from home.   

All the tables in the lunchroom fold up into the wall when lunch is over.  The same room is used for other things during the day.  One day when lunch was almost over, there was a table where only a few kids were still sitting.  The two girls sitting near the end of the table got up leaving only one boy who was near the wall.  Evidently, the table wasn’t locked in place because when the two girls stood up the table folded in the middle and pinched the boy against the wall.  The janitor had to come and pull the table back down to let him out. 

Smivey and Larry play in the band.  Larry plays the tuba.  He is much shorter than Smivey and is rather heavy.  The bottom of the tuba almost drags on the ground when the band goes outside for marching practice.  They don’t actually get to march in parades or at football games.  They just practice so they will be ready for marching band when they get to high school. Smivey plays the clarinet.  Although he likes playing in the band, he wishes he could play something besides clarinet.  It doesn’t seem like a boy’s instrument.   

When he started band he wanted to play drums but his parents wouldn’t let him.  “I played the clarinet when I was in the band and I still have my instrument.  You can use my clarinet and we won’t have to buy one” his mother said.  “But I want to play drums” he pleaded.  That’s when his father spoke up.  “You will play the clarinet we already have.  Besides, the drums are not an instrument you can play by yourself.” That was the end of the discussion. 

The band teacher, Mr. Norvert, can play all the instruments, but he mostly plays the trumpet.  The kids love to hear him play because he is so good.  Once in a while, if the band is  

having a difficult time playing a song, Mr. Norvert will pick up his trumpet and play it for them.  It’s always easier to play a song once you hear it a few times.   

Mr. Norvert has long, wavy, gray hair and a beard.  He reminds some of the students of Santa Claus and he always seems to be in a good mood.  As if being able to play all the instruments were not enough, Mr. Norvert is a great singer.  Sometimes between classes you can  

hear him singing all the way down the hall. He is the one person who makes Smivey wish he could sing.  Maybe it is a good thing he’s in the choir. 

After Band comes English, and then, finally, Home Studies with Elizabeth.  Mrs. Shinkler has been talking about a project for which the students will be divided into small groups.  Smivey has been hoping, ever since he first heard about the project, that he could be in a group with Elizabeth.  It would be like a dream coming true to finally talk to her. 

“Class, I have been talking to you for quite some time about the home projects you are going to be working on.  You will be divided into groups of four today.  During the project, each group will be responsible for planning a budget for one month, which will include the expenses of a mortgage, food, utilities, car payments, insurance, clothing, and entertainment.  You will have to plan four menus, each covering three meals per day for a week.  You will be required to describe your job from which you will receive the income that will be assigned to you.  At the conclusion of the project your group will be required to actually prepare one of the meals you have chosen.” 

Mrs. Shinkler said, “Now class, each of your groups will include a father and mother, and two children.”   

Smivey’s heart pounded as he thought about Elizabeth.   

“I have chosen the family members randomly.  We have an even number of boys and girls in this class, so it works out nicely.  I have also chosen which of you will be parents, and which will be children.  You all will work together, however, in your groups to complete the project.” 

Smivey felt dizzy as Mrs. Shinkler began reading the names.   

“David Conler and Sarah Micheals, father and mother…” There were snickers and muffled comments throughout the room. “Class, now this requires some maturity from you, please.”  The class quieted down as she continued.  “Peter Soldman, Jennifer Deiter, son and daughter.”   

As Mrs. Shinkler read through each group, Smivey started having the same feeling he had when he swung on the rope for the first time in Larry’s barn.  As the list of names grew longer, Smivey’s breath drew shorter.   

Then Mrs. Shinkler read, “Treighton Harford and Elizabeth Musker…”  

And Smivey blurted out, 

“What!?”   

He didn’t mean to say anything, it just came out.   

“Excuse me, Mr. Stepward, did you have a question?” Mrs. Shinkler asked.   

Smivey’s face felt hot.  “No, I was just thinking of something” he muttered.   

“Treighton Harford and Elizabeth Musker, father and mother, Davis Simpkins and Bonnie Weldman, son and daughter.”  “And finally,” Mrs. Shinkler continued, “we have Smivey Stepward and Gretchen Kirtz, father and mother…”  

Smivey didn’t remember anything that happened after that.  The room started spinning and he almost threw up.  He continued to watch Mrs. Shinkler but he couldn’t hear what she was saying.  His heart was beating so hard he was sure everyone in the class would hear it. 

“Smivey, are you okay?”  He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Gretchen standing next to him.   

“Mrs. Shinkler wants us to get into our groups and start working,” she said.   

“I don’t feel good,” Smivey said.  He looked over where Elizabeth was sitting in time to see her walking beside Treighton Harford to their group.   

Mrs. Shinkler handed out the instructions and said,  

“Now class, for the remainder of the hour, talk about how your family is going to function.  If you have any questions, please raise your hand and I will help you.”   

Smivey’s group started talking but it sounded like mumbling as if he had cotton in his ears..  He couldn’t believe he had to be with Gretchen Kirtz.   

“Isn’t this great?” Gretchen asked.   

“It’s a disease,” Smivey muttered. 

It was an eternity before the bell rang.  Gretchen did all the talking and was acting all motherly and everything.   

“This is the worst day of my life” Smivey thought as he picked up his books.   

“See you tomorrow, Smivey,” Gretchen said sweetly as she turned toward the door.   

“I don’t ever want to see you, Gretch,” Smivey wanted to say, but didn’t.   

He stood by his chair and watched Elizabeth walk out of the room with Treighton Harford.