Outstanding In His Field

Now what I’m going to tell you, ain’t a lie or nothin’ – it’s the God’s honest truth – and don’t be giving me any guff about Stephen King and his clowns – ‘cause this ain’t a story like he makes up.

Let me tell you who I am. I’m a computer guy, and I work for folks who survey these big farms down Indiana way. I’m the guy who gets to operate the drone – or one of the guys – on these farms, we usually need 5 or 6 of us. We fly the drones over the crops each day to make sure everything is right and dandy.

Well, everything was okay until I saw this photo - you are probably looking at what I found last summer. The field in question is about 25 miles out, and there ain’t no one lives around that area. I’ll tell you for a fact that we don’t need scarecrows. This area is all big business. Thousands of acres of fields, all watched over by these drones.

So when the boss saw the photo, he got real angry and decided to send some poor fool out to reccy the place. We drew straws – ‘cause as the boss said, he can’t afford more than one to lose a day’s work.

Young Elmore won the task – if ‘won’ is the right word.

Here’s where it got strange. He never came home that night or the next. We sent drones over, and all we could see was that crazy clown scarecrow.

On the third day, the boss decided that he should send the cops over – perhaps he should have done that at the start, but we’ll never know.

That evening when the police officer came into our building, I could see he was a bit tense. It seems that they found young Elmore - but not in a good way. When they took the clown’s mask off of the scarecrow – it was him, Elmore – he was the man who was outstanding in his field.

They never did find out the truth of what happened. Except that is until yesterday. I was flying the drone over the field for the first time this year, and there it was again — the clown.

The boss said we should draw straws, and this time, I won. I said we should call the cops.

He didn’t listen. So I’m riding my bike out there. I’ll let you know what happens.

bobby stevenson 2020

Enough Sunshine For Everyone

That summer, that sultry humid one, in ’46 was the hottest on record. She still remembers it. How could ever she forget?

From her apartment window on the first floor she could view most of the comings and goings for a block. And she never got bored. Never.  There was always the odd soldier returning home from the war overseas. Those kids in khaki would run up the sidewalk throwing themselves into the arms of lovers, mothers, brothers, kids, and wives and always the same hugs, as if to say: ‘I’m home – let’s never be so stupid again’. 


Before the war, there had been Edith and her son, Eugene. Now Edith was alone. Her last letter from her only son had come from a prisoner of war camp in the Far East. That was two years ago, and she still had heard nothing. She felt that if he was dead she would know, and she was sure she could still feel the tick of his heart in the universe.

When Eugene, or Gene as the liked to be known, was eight years old, he had 
run out in front of an automobile which had been speeding up Montrose. The car clipped her son and knocked him flying back on to the sidewalk. Her boy, her love, had been in a coma for six weeks before he had opened his eyes again. Edith had never, ever prayed so much in her life.

It was the Japanese lady on the second floor who had saved Gene’s life. She was a nurse and had been approaching home after a double night shift at St Edwards, when she saw the automobile hit Eugene. She had given him the kiss-of-life until the ambulance had arrived. Her name was Hana Tanaka, and after that accident, both Hana and Edith had become close friends.

When Eugene lay unconscious in St Edwards, Hana would come around to the room and sit with Edith during her darkest hours. In fact, Hana had been attending Gene when he first opened his eyes.Hana had given Edith the good news in the morning.

“You and your son deserve happiness, after all, isn’t there there is enough sunshine for everyone,” said Hana, as she hugged Edith.

The war ended, and many folks danced and kissed their way up and down Montrose Avenue. Edith watched most of it from the safety and sterility of her apartment window. She couldn’t party until she knew her boy was home and safe.

It was in the Spring of 1946, that George, a single man, who had also been captured by the Japanese, moved into Edith’s apartment block. George tended to keep himself to himself, but on the odd occasion when Edith passed him in the corridor, Edith would exchange a ‘hello’. She was desperate to ask if he had seen or talked to her son, but she never seemed to get the chance.

So it was in shock that Edith found herself in the backyard of the apartment block that sultry summer in 1946, staring into the face of George as he held a knife to Hana’s throat.

“Goddamn Japs! Ain’t no good. Ain’t no good at all, with what these folks done to me,” shouted George as he pressed the knife closer to Hana’s neck. Edith was sure she could see some blood appearing. From a top window across the way, a woman signalled to Edith that she was going for help. Until then, Edith would have to think of something quick.

“This woman, George – can I call you George? – This woman saved the life of my boy right outside here a few years back,” said Edith.
“Don’t care if she did, don’t care if she didn’t,” said George. “She’s a Jap and they all deserve to die.”
“Why George?” Asked Edith.
“Just ‘cause, just ‘cause. Just ‘cause of what they did to me and every other poor soul. They is the devil. They is the devil. They surely are”. Edith noticed a tear running down George’s face, and so decided that now was the time to act.
“She saved my boy’s life, George. What kind of devil does that George? Tell me? You can’t blame Hana for the sins of others. She’s a kind decent heart and deserves to be treated as such. She grew up here, George. She’s an American. She’s proud of being an American. She is love, George. Love. You understand?  After she saved my boy’s life, she sat with him day and night tending to his every need. She’s an angel, George. She ain’t a devil.  Know what she said to me, George? Hana said we all deserve happiness. Each and every one of us. I know folks out there did some pretty bad things to you, George. Things you might not forgive, but it wasn’t Hana. Not this gently lady. Hana said to me that there’s enough sunshine for everyone and I think she’s right George. I surely do”.

George thought for a bit, then dropped to his knees. Edith picked up the knife and threw the object as far as she could. The cops never arrived that day and a few weeks later George disappeared.

Edith still stands on the steps of her apartment waiting for her boy, Eugene to walk home up Montrose avenue.  She still has hope in her heart.

bobby stevenson 2018

The Big Marching Band

She awoke with the sound of sobbing. She knew instantly who it was. Oliva hated it when he cried, and it had been happening more and more.
To Oliva, her Grandpa was the greatest man who ever lived, it wasn’t only her who thought so, her Grandpa did too.

“Ain’t I the greatest man who ever lived?” He’d ask, then he’d spit as far as he could.

“You sure are, Grandpa, you sure are,” Olivia would agree, then spit as far as she could – which was pretty far considering she didn’t practise as much as her grandfather.

She quickly got dressed and without cleaning her teeth, she headed to the barn which was situated below her window.
The door always squeaked when you opened it, and so her grandfather was able to quickly wipe his eyes and paint a smile on his face by the time Olivia was inside.

“What cha doin’ there, Grandpa?” She asked.
“Hello little one, I didn’t hear you come in there. What am I doin’ you ask? Why - what I do most days. I just sits and cogitates.”
“Cogi-what,Grandpa?”
“Why sugar, it just means I sits and wastes the day away,” her grandfather said, sadly.

The problem with Olivia’s grandfather and some of the other men in the valley was that work had grown scarcer and scarcer. These were men who worked with their hands, who built thing, great things. Now those things were not made in barns and sheds but manufactured in some city in a far off place.

“Can I getcha some coffee, Grandpa?”

That brought a real smile to her grandfather’s face.

“You sure can, sugar.”

Normally on a Saturday, Olivia went walking in the woods with her grandfather, but he just didn’t feel like it today. It was just then that she heard a call from the garden:
“How are you, Missy?”

Sometimes it was good to see Joe. He was in Olivia’s class in school and Joe felt that school was just a waste of his time, because as he said, he already knew all he needed to know to make it in the world. What stopped him was that he was eleven years of age. ’Can’t wait till I’m 16’, he’d tell folks.
She smiled at Joe.

“I’m just sittin’, Joe. My Grandpa don’t want to go walking today,” she told her pal.

“Same here, my Pa is just starin’ outta the window but my Ma says that opportunity is coming up the road real soon and that it’ll be followed by a big marching band. Now, I can’t stand here chewin’ over things all day. I gotta go to the Big Hole, to try and catch me another big fella. I hear there’s a mighty fish down there with my name on it,” and with that Joe was gone.

Olivia had never seen a big marching band and so she decided to do what she always did, and that was to head to Old Creek Road and wait for things to fall into place.

When she got up to Old Creek it was its usual empty self, so she did what she always did and sat and waited.

Every now and again, she stood and held a hand to her ear to see if she could hear the big marching band.

“What cha doin’?” It was Herbert the dog from Asker’s farm just doing what he always did on a Saturday, walk around being real nosey.
“I’m waiting on a big marching band coming up the road.”
“Mind if I wait?” He asked, Olivia.
“Don’t mind if you do,” said his pal.

So Herbert sat and waited with Olivia.

“How will we know when it’s comin’?” He asked.
Olivia told Herbert, her pal, that they’d probably see opportunity coming up the road first, followed by a big marching band.

Herbert tried not to look excited, but he had to admit that he was.
With nothing much happening, Herbert and Olivia started singing songs that they thought marching bands might paly. Suddenly another voice joined in, and as they looked around, they saw it was Scrimpy The Ass.

“What cha doing?” Asked Scrimpy The Ass.
“Well we’re waiting on opportunity coming marching right up Old Creek Road,” said Herbert.
“Followed by a big marching band,” added Olivia.
“Mind if I join you guys?” Asked Scrimpy.
“Don’t mind at all,” said his pals.

So they sat and they sat, but to be honest they were just as happy enjoying a Saturday afternoon in the sunshine.
It was Scrimpy who spotted him first. He could see Sammy, the mailman, on his real old bike coming up the road.

“Hiya sweetpea,” Said Sammy to Olivia.” Is yer grandpa at home?”
“Sure is,” said Olivia.
“Can you give him this envelope? It’s a letter from Jake Brother over in Shotts County. He gave it to me yesterday and I plum forgot. Says it’s a request for your grandpa to do some work for him.”

Sammy handed Olivia the letter then peddled back down the really bumpy road. You could hear Sammy shouting out every time he hit a bump.
“Ouch!”

Herbert then said what they were all thinking.
“That sure sounds like an opportunity, but there ain’t no marching band.”

They all agreed that it sounded like an opportunity, but how could it be if there 
were no band following?

“I’ll take my letter home to my Grandpa and ask my Grandma just exactly when the big marching band is due.”
“Maybe we could meet up next Saturday and see if it turns up,” suggested Scrimpy.

And do you know what? All the pals agreed that it was the best idea ever, and 

promised to meet up the following week.
It was good to have friends.

bobby stevenson 2016