The other day I was thinking about our front porch in Montague, Michigan. Growing up it was used as a gathering place where people were welcomed, listened to, encouraged to share, and I believe, felt loved. I never really understood the significance of all of this until mom and dad were gone, and I could no longer sit on that front porch.
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Our library in Montague, MI was above the firehouse. I was happy to know I could go there and check out fun books to read. We didn’t have a television so our activities were simple. Reading became an important part of our lives.
One day my father said he had a surprise for me. “I want to show you something, Adele. I’m going to take you to a place where there are many books! We’re going to go to Grossman’s.” (Grossman’s was a very popular department store in Muskegon, MI).
He cried out “God, please help me understand!” as he lay in bed that night. How could someone be so heartless, throwing away a member of the human family like garbage, leaving her in a field to freeze, starve or become an animal’s next meal? Dave Hickman had never witnessed such evil before. As his body trembled in response to the memories of that day, the questions wouldn’t stop.
It’s a Wonderful life? A Christmas Story
By Wayne Zurl
Few people want to work a four-to-twelve shift on Christmas night.
My wife had made an early dinner the night before and we opened our presents on Christmas Eve, satisfying our holiday spirit. And working Christmas day paid double time and a half. That’s no humbug.
My partner, Louie, had just split up with his wife and it wasn’t his turn to have the kids.
So, he and I sat drinking Dunkin Donuts’ coffee watching the stop light at Station Road and Montauk Highway. There were no cars, much less violators lurking about on December 25th.
It was warm that year, about fifty degrees. I took the pile liner out of my leather jacket before I left home. The heat generated by the big 383 Plymouth engine and sent through the thin firewalls made the interior of the police car too warm for a jacket. We tossed them into the back seat with our brief cases.
And we drank more coffee.
“We haven’t heard shit on the radio for almost twenty minutes,” I said.
“If we could find another human being I’d run them for warrants,” Lou suggested, “just to keep the dispatcher awake.”