Ed Whitehead’s Last Stand - 1969

I remember how much my black Hush Puppy penny loafers were rubbing my heel raw on my first day of Kindergarten.  I just wanted to wear my jeans and a t-shirt with my old sneakers, but my mother insisted that I wear a dress with ruffles with the new shoes. I was scared because this was the first time I would be around other little kids who were not my cousins.  I also had developed the ability to see dead people during the summer.  Couple that with the fact that my father had separated from my mother at the same time and you had a perfect storm for my first day of school.  

My mother had tried to limit my exposure to outsiders in the last few weeks of summer because she was afraid that another ghost would spill more family secrets.  Besides my mother, I got to spend time with Etta who I loved and the feeling was mutual.  Her sons were in their teens so having a little girl who idolized her probably felt pretty good.  She was not freaked out about the fact that I could see ghosts.  She was originally from New Orleans where tales of ghosts and voodoo were quite common.   On the days when mother was losing patience with me, Etta would say “Miss Laura, I’ll keep an eye on Sophia while you lie down.” 

 Mother would smile gratefully and go to her room for a few hours while Etta and I made cookies and talked before I went to bed.  I looked forward to those times with her because it felt like this is what a mother should be.  She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, her dark skin, eyes and hair seemed to exude an exotic beauty I would never have.  

“Child,” she said while brushing my long blond hair one night before bed, “You have the gift - there is no mistake about that, but you have to be careful.  There are people around here that don’t like others being different.  When you are with the other folks out there, you have to fit in.  You can talk to me about ghosts all you want, but don’t be troubling your mother or other people because they won’t understand it.  Folks just hate what they don’t understand,” she said with the sad resignation of a black woman who had lived in the south all her life.  Even if it was 1969 and TV was becoming integrated, the real South was not going quietly into that good night and I just couldn't understand that. 

“Yes, ma’am, but how come being different is so bad?” I asked with such childlike innocence it almost made Etta cry. 

“People like what they know Sophia and they want to destroy what they fear.  Now let’s say our prayers.”   Etta had taught me Psalms to keep the bad spirits away and how to keep the good ones nearby. When we finished praying I would hug her with all my might.  She would tuck me in, kiss my forehead and wave as she closed the door.  

“That woman is a God send, and I should know,” said Grandpappy- the ghost of my great grandfather.  He would visit me every night carrying the ghost of my baby cat Sassy who had been hit by a car three months before. 

“She’s right about folks thinking you’re different.  Hell it’s been over a 100 years and you got folks still fighting the Civil War - you think they are going to embrace civil rights?   You need to be careful Sophia.  When you start school, try to fit in and if you see ghosts, try to ignore them.” 

“Yes sir, Grandpappy - I will,” I said with all the steely determination a Kindergarten child could muster.  

That summer, I asked my mother if I could have a TV in my room and

she relented because it meant that I would stay upstairs and out of her way when she had company. Etta and I would watch Diane Carroll in Julia.  I would see the world through this TV lens of integrated possibilities and it seemed so much more interesting and exciting then the people I saw day to day except for my Etta.  She was the one person in the world who loved me for me and not for the person that my mother wanted me to be.  

So here we were on the first day of school - my mother and I standing at the gates of Blue Lakes Elementary.  My mother wanted an exclusive private school but my father bulked at the price and thought that a newly desegregated public school would do me good. 

“Now Sophia, play nice with the other children and don’t do anything strange, I’m begging you – please don’t,” mother said in an uncharacteristically pleading tone.

“I know, Etta and Grandpappy told me not to,” I replied. My mother winced when I said Grandpappy since she knew he was one of the ghosts I talked to. 

“Hello, I’m Chrissie Bentley, I’ll be your child’s Kindergarten teacher.   Now who do we have here?”   Miss Bentley had just graduated with a Master’s in Early Childhood education from Georgia State.  She was young, pretty and wore a flowery blouse with a short skirt and white boots - professional and mod at the same time. 

“This is Sophia, and she’s a little shy,” mother replied.  
“Well, everyone is shy on the first day, but there are lots of children to play with,” said Miss Bentley.  

“Look those girls might want to be your friend,” mother replied hopefully.  One of the little girls from a group near the playground ran up and introduced herself.

“Hello, my name is Betty - wanna play?”  I squeezed my mother’s hand tighter not wanting her to leave but she made a point of letting go anyway. 

“Now go on Sophia - this is a new start for you- take it.”   Mother said hopefully and left quickly scarcely looking back. 

Betty took my hand and smiled.  She brought me over to a group of girls playing with dolls.  They had blond hair, frilly dresses and new shoes like mine.  They told me I was pretty and handed me a doll to play with.  I saw two other girls with dark skin sitting in the corner talking but they didn’t have dolls.  They had big brown eyes with long eyelashes and braids with brightly colored hair ties with large florescent beads on the end. They looked sad so I did what any right thinking six-year-old would have done, I asked the other girls if they could join us. 

“No Sophia, those Negro girls can’t - we don’t have enough dolls,” said Betty with an irritating air of authority. 

“They can have my doll,” I said trying to easily solve the problem.  “That ain’t it,” said Sherry - one of the other white girls, “we just don’t want to play with them.”  

“Why not?” I asked still not comprehending their narrow way of thinking. 

“Because, they are colored!”  Betty said and shot an exasperated look at me that showed that I lacked the basic ability to grasp the obvious. I sat quietly and I tried to stay with those white girls.  I tried to blend in.  But I felt sick to my stomach.  It just felt wrong.   

I knew those other girls felt excluded and I knew how that felt.  I saw the ghost of a young black man in uniform sitting next to them, trying to get their attention to let them know he was there.  He looked over at me and we made eye contact.  I looked away, not because I was scared, but because I was not supposed to talk to ghosts.  I had promised mother, Grandpappy and more importantly, I had promised Etta.  I understood now why the girls were so sad.  This man was their father who was killed in Vietnam.   I just sat there with my eyes closed hoping he would go away, but when I opened them he was next to me speaking to me softly, trying to comfort me.  

“Hey there little miss,” he said with a kind voice, “I know you can see me - don’t be scared.  I won’t hurt you.” 

“I know you won’t,” I said back. 

“I won’t what?” asked Betty thinking I was talking to her. 

Thinking fast, I said, “I won’t bother you, I’m going to get another toy,” I walked over to side of the playground where the sports equipment was.  The young soldier followed me.  

“I’m not supposed to talk to ghosts,” I whispered hoping no one could hear me. 

“I know - I tell my daughters to never talk to strangers, but those two are my baby twin girls and I wanted them to have a good first day of school.  It breaks my heart that I can’t be with them in person, but if you could tell them I’m here and I love them, it would mean the world to me,” he said quietly.  

 “I can try.  I’m sorry you died in Vierrname,” I said.   He tried to smile briefly at my inability to say the right name.

“My name is Lieutenant Bobby Wilson and I fought for my country in Laos in Operation Dewey Canyon side by side with white soldiers.  Now my girls, Joy and Grace can go to a public school side by side with white children in Georgia.  This is truly a blessed day.  I can tell you are not like those other girls.  I mean besides being able to see ghosts, you have a gentle heart.  Please be nice to my daughters,” he said.  

 “I will,” I said my eyes filling with tears because I would tear my heart out if my daddy died.   The soldier bowed his head and faded off. 

“Hey, little girl -don’t you go playing with those tar babies,” I heard an angry booming voice behind me say.   I jumped and saw another ghost, an older white man in overalls and a cap.  He had deep set black eyes and what looked like a permanent scowl on his face and tobacco juice dribbling down his chin.  He was skinny and about six feet tall.  I could tell he was not a nice man. 

“I’m Betty’s great grandfather, Ed Whitehead and you best let her be your friend or else,” he said filling me with terror. 

“She’s a mean girl,” I said trying to run away.   The ghost flew over my head and got into my face, his dark eyes looking into mine. 

“Look girlie, this used to be my farm land and I was fine when it was a school for whites only but now with all these - these -“ he was so mad his mouth started to foam and he spat out more ghostly tobacco juice - “You ain’t never been taught right - now stay with your own kind!!!” he bellowed and faded away. 

My heart was beating - I had never encountered a horrible ghost like that before.  I was running as fast as I could - my feet blistering in those ill-fitting Hushpuppies.  I was looking back when I ran into my teacher, Miss Bentley. 

“Sophia, I’ve been all over looking for you.  Please stay with the group,” she said sounding annoyed.  

Great, my first 20 minutes of school and I had encountered the mean girls, a gentle soldier ghost and an old racist apparition who threatened harm if I befriended the only two people at school that I could relate to.  I wanted to reach out to those girls but that old man scared the crap out of me.  Maybe once I got home, I could ask Etta and she would know what to do.  

I kept to myself the rest of the day.  The mean girls had decided that I was not of their ilk so they let me be.   Joy and Grace sat together at lunch but were completely alone.  I tried to remain invisible but Miss Bentley wanted all of us to be included in everything.  At the end of the day, it was time for Share and Tell and we were all required to participate.   Most of the children seemed to have an excited look on their face except for me and the Wilson girls.   One by one, each child got up with a wonderful tale of what they did for summer vacation - trips to Savannah, St. Simons, Stone Mountain or a day at Six Flags.  Each time another child sat down and it got closer to me, my heart beat harder.  What was I going to say?  My baby kitty Sassy got killed and I began to see ghosts. My mother’s family reunion was fun up until the part where I told the family secrets.  My father left my mother – so yeah - it had been an awesome summer.   

I looked over at the Wilson girls and knew that even with all the everything that I had endured it was nothing compared to losing a father in a war.  I had to think of something that happened during the summer - something fun.  Finally, it was my turn and I thought of the most fun thing I could think of.  I got up and smiled.

“This summer my Etta and me made chocolate chip cookies and we watched I Spy and Julia together,” I said beaming. 

“Is Etta your aunt?” asked Teddy, the red headed kid with glasses.  

“Etta sounds like a colored name, is she colored?” asked Betty who was getting on my last nerve. 

 “Etta is my bestest friend,” I said confidently, “and for Christmas I would like a Julia Doll.”  Joy and Grace looked up smiled for the first time that day. 

“We do too,” they said together.  The room fell silent and for the first time that day the other six-year-olds were for at a loss for words.  

“Well,” said Miss Bentley uncomfortably, “that’s very nice Sophia -let’s see if anyone else wants to -“ 

 “Why would you want a Barbie with dark skin? That’s just stupid!” exclaimed Betty throwing back her long blond hair.  Her remark made me mad and those girls needed to be taken down a few notches. 

“No you’re stupid, I can play with whatever doll I want to -“ the other kids except for the mean girls started to laugh.  

Then the lights started to flicker and I looked to see if Miss Bentley was flashing the lights  to get everyone’s attention, but she was sitting with us and nowhere near the light switch.  I felt a sudden cold shock of air and there was old man Whitehead just looking at me with an image of a flaming cross behind him.  There was a flash of light and then the windowless room went dark.  The kids started to scream and Miss Bentley tried to reassure us.

“Children, it’s fine, just a little problem with the lights.”  She stumbled to her desk and hit the button to the intercom to the office, “Hello, this is Miss Bentley in Kindergarten room A, our lights are out-“

The bell for the end of school rang and the lights went back on.  The kids cheered and the Whitehead ghost was gone.  We gathered up our things walked in single file to the car pick-up lane.  

I knew I had to keep my promise to Lt. Wilson.  When I saw Joy and Grace’s mother, I walked up to her. 

“Hello, my name is Sophia and I gotta to tell you and your girls something.”  Mrs. Wilson looked at me quizzically. I’m pretty sure she didn’t expect what I was about to say. 

“Joy and Grace’s daddy was here today and he loves you all very much.  He misses you because he got killed in Vieername in Lousy.  But he was proud to fight with the white soldiers.” 

There I had delivered the message and I didn’t care what that awful old Whitehead ghost thought.  

Mrs. Wilson just looked at me - her face going from confusion, to happiness to sadness in just a few seconds. 

“How did you know that?” she stammered. 

“You saw our daddy today?  He was here?” asked Joy looking hopeful. 

Grace just started to cry and said, “I miss my daddy.” 

“Now Sophia, you need to come along baby girl” I heard Etta say just as I turned to see that she was picking me up from school instead of mother.  

 “I’m sorry if she upset you,” said Etta calmly. 

“It’s like you said momma, Daddy is an angel looking after us and Sophia saw him!” said Joy excitedly.  I smiled at Etta who was concerned as she and Mrs. Wilson looked around to see if anyone else could hear our conversation. 

“It is not natural for that child to know such things,” Mrs. Wilson whispered as she tried to comfort Grace. 

“I know, but she has a gift and a good heart that’s probably why your husband reached out to her.  God gives us all gifts in different ways,” said Etta gently. 

Mrs. Wilson seemed to feel comforted that Etta felt my skill was God-given and not devil made. 

“I know — I know he’s around and I feel better that he’s looking after the girls and me.  It’s just shock to hear -“ her voice trailed off as tears run down her face.  Etta looked around once more and while the other parents were not paying attention to our group- but in another minute or two, that might change. 

“We need to go- but it was nice meeting you and your girls, God bless you all.”  Etta and I walked away from the Wilsons as they tried comprehend what had just happened.  

We got into our white station wagon and Etta buckled me into the back seat. 

“Sophia,  you were not supposed to talk to ghosts,” said Etta sounding a little irritated. 

“I know ma’am, I tried but they kept talking to me.  Especially that old man Whitehead.  He is a very bad man.” 

Etta gasped when I said the name Whitehead.  “You saw that man today?  What did he say?” 

“Well, he didn’t want my playing with Joy and Grace and only wanted me to play with Betty - like I got to stick with my own kind.  This was his farm land and he wants whites only.  When I was talking during Show and Tell, he started to make the lights go on and off and I saw him standing next to a burning cross.  What does that mean?” 

Etta looked visibly shaken.  “It means you are right, he’s a very bad man.  Let’s not tell your mother okay?” 

“Okay.  Can I tell Grandpappy?” I asked. 

Etta smiled, “Actually I think Grandpappy might be the perfect person to tell.”  

When I got home, mother was there and told me she got caught up in her charity bazaar meeting.  She asked how the first day of school went and how sweet little Betty was.  I did not want to tell her that little girl was a mean girl who I wanted nothing to do with. 

“It was fun, we had Share and Tell - “

“What did you tell about?” my mother asked apprehensively.  

“I told them how much fun I have with Etta,” I replied because it was the truth. 

My mother seemed relived and a little hurt at the same time.   Etta made me dinner and we went upstairs afterward.  Mother decided to give me a bath and to talk to me. 

“Sophia, it sounds like you had quite a good first day.  I’m glad you feel like you are fitting in.” 

“Yessum, momma, I’m trying as hard as I can,” I said sweetly hoping that would keep her from asking me any more questions.   I started to play with my mermaid doll and looked down so our conversation would end.  My mother seemed satisfied with that.  She dried me off and helped me put on my night gown.  

“Here you go young lady, now you can watch a little TV before bedtime, okay?” 

“Okay, mommy,” I said noticing she was more attentive than usual.  She kissed me and let Etta take over.  

“Mommy was extra nice tonight,” I said. 

“That’s right Sophia, your mother loves you very much – that’s why we can’t trouble her with everything that happened today.” 

We sat down to watch Julia in my room. I thought the little boy on the show was cute.  I wished he was in my class too.

 “You know, me, Joy and Grace all want a Julia doll for Christmas,” I said happily thinking that Santa would hear me even if Christmas was still over three months away. 

“I’ll let Santa know,” Etta said with a smile. 

 “Now, when you talk to Grandpappy tonight tell him about Mr. Whitehead - I have a feeling he might have known him.  Please ask him to come to school with you tomorrow.  If you need extra help you can say the Lord’s Prayer like I taught you.  That prayer and Grandpappy should keep you safe,” Etta explained as she hugged me good night.   The door closed and just like clockwork, Grandpappy appeared.  

“Hey there, little darling, how was the first day of school?” he asked as he put Sassy down on my bed. 

“Well, Etta thinks you can help me with an old mean ghost named Mr. Whitehead –“

 “Sweet suffering Christ, not Ed Whitehead. I never liked that old bastard!”  Grandpappy exclaimed.

“Well, his great granddaughter is a mean girl and he wants me to be her friend and not be friends with the two black girls in my class.  He told me I had to like Betty or else and then he appeared in the classroom with a burning cross behind him,”   I was shivering because the image and that man scared me. 

“That Goddamned old piece of white trash has the balls to threaten my great granddaughter?!!” he shouted.  Sassy jumped and got under the covers with me. 

“When folks found out that he was a member of the Klan, they stopped getting their produce from him.  Not everyone around here at the time was a racist and we wanted to put the past behind.  Eventually, he couldn’t buy his way out of trouble and the bank took his farm,” Grandpappy recounted angrily. 

“Etta thought that you could come to school with me and protect me,” I said hoping he would. 

“You are Goddamned right I will- living or dead, some people need to learn their place,” said Grandpappy with a determined tone.  “You sleep tight sugar bear, I’ve got this.”  

The next day, I was ready for school and so was Grandpappy.  He sat next to me in the back seat while Mommy drove us to school.  When she let me off, I tried to leave the car fast but she insisted on waving to Betty who just ignored us. 

“Why isn’t Betty saying hello?” she asked. 

“I don’t know, maybe she’s in a bad mood, it happens,” I said quickly. 

“Sophia, why would she be in a bad mood?” mother asked.  I took a breath because I knew I needed to talk fast.  
“Okay, she was mean to the two Wilson sisters and I stood up for them and now she doesn’t like me but the Wilson sisters do so I have friends, bye-“

“Wait, who are the Wilson sisters?” she asked just as Joy and Grace walked up. 

“Hey Sophia, it’s okay if you see our daddy today.  Grace is not scared anymore,” said Joy smiling.  Grace also smiled and waved.  They walked into school and my mother gave me a very long serious look. 

“Those are the Wilson girls?  I read in the paper their father died in the war.  His ghost talked to you?” 

Mother seemed angry and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was a stranger ghost or because the girls were black or because the ghost was black - I have a hard time reading her sometimes. 

“Mommy, he talked to me and I tried not to but-“ just then the bell rang and the school day was starting. 

“Bye mommy!”  I said as I ran to my classroom happy to have the conversation end. 

I got the room just as the Jeb who was the janitor was checking the lights.  They were flickering and there was old man Whitehead in the corner just looking at me.  This time I had back-up and I saw my Grandpappy go over to him. 

“Goddammit, Ed, you stay away from Sophia and those Wilson girls,” he said with authority. 

“Screw you, Chuck,” he retorted, “You ain’t one to be putting on righteous aires, you ain’t always been so open to the coons around here - I remember back in 1917 before we was shipped off to World War I when we burned down the barn of that nig-“

“Watch it!” shouted Grandpappy. 

“He looked over a white woman and we burned down his barn - you ain’t so innocent,” said Mr. Whitehead with an air of superiority. 

“I regretted that the minute we set the fire- and I never did anything like that again.  Can you say the same thing?!!” yelled Grandpappy. “The worse thing was you brought your 12-year old son to witness it.  You just spread hate your entire life, it’s what sustained you when you were alive and it’s all you got now that you’re dead.”  

Mr. Whitehead glared at Grandpappy.  He went over the Wilson girls and started to knock books and pencils off their desks.  Grandpappy tried to stop him but the struggle caused a chair to be knocked over.  Joy, Grace and the rest of the children started to scream.  

“Now children – I’m sure it was just a blast from the air conditioner –“ said Miss Bentley as she tried to get the children to calm down but the fear in her voice betrayed her intentions.   The lights began in flicker wildly. 

“Everybody get under the tables,” I yelled with a clarity that surprised me. 

My classmates looked around and surprisingly did what I told them to do. Miss Bentley was in a panic and tried to get to the intercom to work to ask for more help.  The lights went off just as Mr. Whitehead grabbed Grace’s arm and started to pull her out from under the desk.  She started to scream when I saw the soldier’s fist punch him hard in the face.  For a few seconds, Lt. Wilson was visible to both his two girls.

 “Get with Sophia where you will be safe,” he commended them.   The girls got under the table with me and we all put our arms around each other.  

“How dare you punch me boy - “ spewed that old nasty cracker. “Don’t you know you could get hanged for that?”

“I’m not a boy, I’m a man and you have no right to be here - this is not your land anymore,” said Lt. Wilson, his voice trembling with anger.  “I fought and paid the ultimate sacrifice in war so my girls could have a good education and a chance at a decent life.  You are not going to take that from them.” 

“Give it up Ed, you’re time here is gone -” said Grandpappy as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Lt. Wilson as a protective shield between the children and the evil entity. 

“I didn’t fight for my country in WWI just to have the likes of him run me off my land!!“ shouted Mr. Whitehead whose face was turning blood red while his eyes became nothing but black disks of despair. 

“You fought for the wrong cause Ed, you never saw how lost it was,” said Grandpappy sadly. 

“How can you say that?  Our fathers were in the confederacy - they fought like brothers-“ he responded. 

“The Civil War was a sham, it was all about keeping the lifestyle for the rich.  Our fathers were pawns for the wealthy landowners who didn’t give a shit who got killed as long as they could keep their slaves.  It wasn’t about honor or states’ rights it was just about pure fucking greed,” exclaimed Grandpappy.  

“I’ll show you!!” he bellowed. 

The classroom door slammed shut and the room started to shake.   Ed Whitehead expanded to the size of the ceiling - his face filling with more blood.  His eyes started to roll back and then made a sick pulsing sound.  The smell of foul decay was in the air.  Slimy droplets of blood started to splat on little desks.  Suddenly two red dragons with Klan hoods came out of his eyes.  Miss Bentley was screaming into the intercom.

“Please, we need help- we’re locked in, the lights are out and there is a horrible smell in the room-please hurry!” she begged as the sounds of little children crying were heard in the background.  Jeb tried to open the door but it would not budge. 

The bloody dragons started to lunge at Lt. Wilson and Grandpappy.  The reptiles’ mouths opened wide ready to devour anything it their way.   Their fangs got closer and closer but Grandpappy and Lt. Wilson would not move because they were the only barrier standing between the dragons and us.  The snakes started to dip around the ghostly men so that they could get to the living children who were sobbing out of sheer terror.  There was a sound from the other side of the door of adults trying to get in. My heart was beating so loudly I was sure that Joy and Grace cold hear it.  I closed my eyes and remembered the prayer Etta told me to say.

“Our father who art in Heaven - Hallowed be thy name,” I started to say aloud.

“Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven,” continued Joy and Grace.  The rest of the children joined in and continued with the prayer.

 “Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our tree passes as we forgive those who tree pass against us,” the sound of the children’s voices kept going on even if we didn’t understand what trespassing was – the intention was there.  

All the kids started to hold hands during the prayer.  Betty who was next the Wilson girls reached over and held their hands as we all huddled under the desks as the sound of foul smelling blood rain continued to fall.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.”

When Old Man Whitehead saw his granddaughter holding the hands of the black girls, he looked like he had been shot in the heart.  

“NOOO!!” he shrieked.  The dragon snakes started to tremble.  They tangled with each other and made a sick hissing sound.  They started to recoil back into back into Ed Whitehead’s face.   The sticky sound of blood rain started to get lighter and he started to shrink back into the little man he was – bitter and alone.   Then there was the sound of a portal opening like a rock that was rolling away from a cave. 

“You got one chance at redemption, you gonna take it Ed?” asked

Grandpappy as the ceiling started to swirl looking like turquoise clouds against a blue and purple sky – it was pretty and I hoped it would stay that way.   

“Renounce what you’ve done and ask for forgiveness,” commended Lt. Wilson.

 “Hell no, my pappy was right, my Granddaddy was right – his father before him – we were right.  God made us the superior race.  I ain’t going against them, we were right - Goddammit, we were always right!”

The ceiling started to turn from white to black and had the terrible pattern of gray clouds right before a tornado touched earth.   There was a funnel of spirits in dark robes but their faces were nothing but a black mask with two red eyes in the center.  They started to circle around Mr. Whitehead.  His human features started to melt off his body.  His face exposing muscle and then a skull.  He arms and legs were pulled like long strings into the vortex - he was screaming taking one last gasp to hold on.  He was finally completely pulled into the vacuum and the roof closed. I looked up and I could see that it was back to the white ceiling tiles with a few pieces of gum and pencils stuck to them.  

“It looks like that old peck of wood is gone for good,” said Grandpappy gratefully.

“Thank you for standing with me,” replied Lt. Wilson. 

“I have been trying to redeem myself for - for what I did – that wasn’t me – I just got pulled in with the wrong people – I’m so sorry-“

“If you were not forgiven, you would have gone with him - but you got a good heart like Sophia,” explained Lt. Wilson.  “I realize now that maybe I needed to be here for my girls like this so I could protect them from evil spirits. Now I can be at peace with what happened.  Sophia tell Joy and Grace I’ll always be around to look after them and they can talk to me anytime.  I love them but that goes without saying.”

“I’ll still say it.  They’ll know how brave you were and how much you love them – that love never goes away,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks. 

For the first time, I saw Lt. Robert Wilson smile.  He walked over to his girls, kissed their heads and faded out.  Grandpappy smiled at me, touched my face and faded out as well.  

The lights came back on and the bloody droplets looked like spilt corn syrup – it was sticky but did not appear to be dragon blood.

They finally got the door unlocked and when the other teachers arrived, they attributed the mess and noise to the black out.   The class got out from under their desks – shaken but since I was the only one who could see what was going on they were literally in the dark about what happened.   

“It’s okay children – I guess we had an energy surge of some kind, it’s all fine,” Miss Bentley said as she smoothed her hair and tried to regain her composure.  

Unfortunately, she got in a little bit of trouble because the people in the office heard us praying (which apparently you can’t do in public school even if you are under an attack from a demonic entity).  We were all allowed to go to recess while the Jeb and his crew inspected the lights and cleaned off the desks.

“I saw my daddy,” said Joy. 

“Me too,” said Grace.  “He’s around watching over us.” 

“I got my Grandpappy watching over me too,” I said smiling trying to focus on them and the sunlight instead of all things I had just seen and heard.   
I would tell Etta everything when she picked me up from school and I would properly thank Grandpappy at bedtime.  But for the rest of the day, I didn’t feel like an outsider.   For the first time in months, I was just a little girl trying to master the fine art of box ball.  Best of all, me and the Wilson girls got to have lunch together.

Dave's Christmas Story

I was taking my chemistry book out of my locker at Glades Jr. High and a Polaroid of me and my MeMa popped off my locker door and into my hands.  I looked at her smiling face – a face that I would not see again in this lifetime. I had just found that that morning from my mother that she had died in a car accident.  I begged to stay home from school but my mother insisted that all four of her kids go to school – me and my three older sisters.  My parents just needed some time to process the sudden loss without having to deal with us.  I mean I just saw her yesterday afternoon and now she was gone.  I tried to keep it together but the reality of her death really hit me for the first time that day and I just couldn’t keep it inside. 

I started to cry – I mean not just a few tears rolling down the cheeks that you could easily wipe away but sobbing and feeling a profound loss like I had never felt before.  Just then Bruce Dane, the school bully walked up, noticed I was crying and really started to harass me. “C’mon – you gonna cry – why you crying you little faggot?” he taunted with his dirty blond hair, a dark shirt and shorts.  He was a good six inches taller the rest of the kids and there was a rumor that he had been held back at least twice. Just then, Jack Bronson walked up and stuck up for me – which surprised me because we mostly passed in the hallway but never really talked.  Jack was muscular for his age and had light brown hair and was like the rest of us - much shorter than the hallway bully.  His blue eyes were fixed on Bruce and not flinching.  

“Hey – why don’t you just leave him alone Bruce,” challenged Jack.  Bruce turned around and towered over Jack.
“Well speaking of faggots – why don’t you get the hell out of here Jack or do you want to ask him out on a date?” 
“Knock it off Bruce- his MeMa died – he’s upset.” 
“MeMa – what is he – a baby?  I’ll decide when he’s had enough,” Bruce said.  At this point, a circle of kids had gathered around. 
“Bruce – I’m not going to ask you again – leave him alone,” Jack said with a steely determination in his eye. 
“Or what – what can you possibly do about it faggot?”  Bruce raised his fist ready to strike.  Jack just looked down and started to turn away.  Bruce chuckled and said “Figures – some people just don’t –“ He was stopped mid-sentence when Jack whirled back around and cold cocked him in the face. 

Bruce went back but kept his footing and tried to punch back – he missed

and Jack landed another punch in the stomach.  Bruce was bleeding from his nose and doubled over.  At this point, Mr. Albury, the Assistant Principal stepped in to stop the fight assuming that once again, Bruce had won. “C’mon Bruce you need to –“ he stopped mid-sentence and saw that Bruce was the one bleeding for a change.  Both Jack and I got into trouble for fighting even though Jack told them that Bruce had started it.  

"Look, I know that you are both good boys and you rarely get into trouble.  We have all that new fangled video and editing equipment that no one can make heads or tails of.  I'll give you three days detention to work on it and then write a report detailing how to use it." 
"Sounds good sir, thank you - I'd love to work with Dave on the project, but what about Bruce?  He started it!" 
"Don't worry about Bruce, I have him covered," Mr. Albury replied with a wink. 

That was the day that Jack became my best friend – a guy that would put himself on the line for a friend or hell just to make sure someone was not going to get bullied by taking on the biggest guy in school.  He had also lost his grandmother just a few months before so he understood what I was going through. 

He lived one block over from me in a run-down ranch style home and from that day forward he was a member of my family.  My parents loved that he helped me through the loss of Me-Ma and that he was the brother that I never had.  Being the youngest of four kids – I needed a kid my own age that I could identify with.  We’d go off on our own adventures in the park near my subdivision and Jack would usually have dinner at our house since his dad was rarely in any shape to cook.  Jack’s dad was a decorated Vietnam but the war and the cumulative losses of the women in his life took its toll.  He was often too drunk by 6:00 pm to have a decent dinner waiting.  My parents had no problem cooking a little extra and my sisters eventually got used to him being around.  

“Dave, Debbie is totally hot!” Jack would say in a fit of adolescent lust.  My response was an involuntary shudder.  I guess some guys would find her long platinum blond hair and slim figure appealing but then all my sisters liked that except since she was the oldest, she was the most um- shall we say developed.

“Oh c’mon – Jack she’s my sister.  Besides Debbie is five years older than you which makes it like 30 in teen girl years – you really have no chance.”  Jack would shrug and mutter – “Well maybe one day when I’m older,” Jack would reply.  My sisters would overhear our conversation and whisper  “As if!!” 

Jack and his dad had a complicated relationship which got worse after his Mom died in a car accident and his Nana died of a heart attack a year afterward.  I guess that’s why Jack strutted around like he was a tough guy – it was easier than letting most people see his real feelings but he’d share things with me because well - we both missed our grandmothers and he needed someone to confide in.

We also shared an interest in or should I say a passion for ghosts.  Our favorite movie was Ghostbusters.  We both saw it like ten times when it was first came to theaters and then we heard they were re-releasing it around the time that school started and went to see it another five times.  That was our escape – our favorite movie on the big screen, Bill Murray’s smirk, Dan Ackroyd’s child-like awe of ghosts, Harold Ramis’ proton packs and Ernie Hudson’s kick-ass attitude – for teenage boys like us it could not get any better.  

That year – Jack and I both decided that to make our passion our vocation – we wanted to be paranormal investigators.  Living in Georgia, there were tons of ghost stories and places to hunt them like Underground Atlanta and any number of old buildings that were decades or even a century old.  Sometimes they were as close as an old abandoned theatre where Jack had captured some images on VHS which actually made the news.  We studied the science of Ghostbusters and wanted to have Proton Packs of our very own.   Since Christmas was coming I made it our mission to either get the components to make them or to find a way to purchase them already made. 

Whenever any of our classmates asked what we wanted for Christmas – we’d tell them the Proton Packs from Ghostbusters and they would laugh and just call us weird.  Most of them were asking for GI Joes, Transformers or Atari TV video games like Asteroids or Pong.   In a weird way it made us feel better that not more people asked for what we wanted – so our chances of getting the packs from the jolly old elf shot up a bit. 

Now I know what you’re thinking – why does a someone like me in middle school still believe in Santa?  Well hell- a guy has to believe in something after the crappy year that Jack and I had.  I figured it’s best to ask Santa as a person who might or might not exist versus a supposed God that takes your grandmother without warning.  I mean I always told her I loved her but I thought she would be around at least until I had kids.  I was still having a hard time grabbling with why a good and kind God would hurt someone I loved – it was not f*cking fair! Sometimes you can find forgiveness – even for God - but I was not in a forgiving mood.  Of course I never told my mother who made sure we went to Mass religiously every Saturday night or Sunday.  Even Jack went, but mostly to check out the Catholic girls who he hoped were easy. 

It was the Friday after Thanksgiving and Jack was spending the night when we got a great idea.  There has been rumors that there was a ghost in the school – some coal miner that that had died near-by where a mine used to be back in the 1950’s.   Jack thought it might be the same ghost he caught on camera in the theatre and that it moved to the school when the theatre was torn down.  We waited for everyone in the house to go to sleep and walked over to the school.  Jack had the video camera – his dad let him have it after Nana died. 

“Dave – I get the feeling we’re going to see some activity tonight,” Jack said excitedly but with a hint of nervousness. 
“I hope so – but we can only be gone about an hour – my parents would kill me if they knew we were out on our own,” I replied.   We walked down the path to the field house by the P.E. offices.  Sometimes the door was kept open in that part of the building in case the coaches needed to grab equipment on the weekend and didn’t want to bother the facility staff.  People could do that in my town – leave doors open and no worry about having stuff stolen.  

“Okay, we look around the locker room and see if anything happens.  A few of the guys have seen stuff get moved without any real explanation,” Jack stated feeling pretty confident.  We moved down the side office and into the main locker room.  It was dark but we kept the lights off so we would not attract attention - ghosts like to move around in the dark but we had flashlights.  

“Geez – it always smells like mold and sweat around here –“  There was a small metal squeak and just then we saw a locker door open. 
“Jesus Jack, did you get that on camera?!”  I asked trying to keep my cool but realizing that I might have just peed a little. 
“I got it Dave but it’s really dark so maybe it won’t come out – hopefully we’ll see a little more.”  Jack replied – he was a little more seasoned than I was and not nearly as nervous. 
“It’s good to have someone on a stake-out with me – “ said Jack when two more lockers opened up.  Just then we heard some sounds – it was quiet at first and then got louder. 
“Oh God, Oh God, please –“Jack and I looked at each other – and we knew what each other was thinking – should we stay or get the hell out of there?  “Jack – I’m getting a little freaked –“ I started when there was a loud knock coming from the room next to us and more moaning. 
“Dude, we’ve got to check that out –“ Jack insisted and he ran around the corner.  Just then there was a loud scream and some yelling. 

“Get the f*ck out of here you little perv!” said a male voice that sounded like it was in high school.  I rounded the corner to see my big sister Debbie and her sometimes boyfriend Gus sitting on the couch in the coaches office and they had been making-out. 

“Oh my God – you little freaks - what are you doing here?!!”  screamed Debbie. 
“What are you doing here Debbie?  You’re supposed to be in bed,” I replied taknig the higher moral ground.  I was trying to move from being scared to totally creeped out seeing my sister with her blouse unbuttoned and her bra in Gus’ hands.  Luckily her sweater was layered over anything that could be a – ah – a something a brother should not see. 
“Why are you here Dave?” she shrieked grabbing her bra from Gus and buttoning her shirt. 
“We were looking for ghosts and got some footage but now we might have to debunk some of it,” Jack said matter-of-factly trying not to catch a glimpse but staring right at Debbie’s bust line. 
“Video – great that’s all we need,” said Gus who was the captain of the high school baseball team, muscular and way bigger than Jack and I.  
“Give me that tape and no-one gets hurt,” he said moving closer to Jack who was not backing down. 
“Look, I turned off the camera the minute I saw it was you and Debbie – we don’t have anything on tape with you and her but we do have lockers opening and closing by themselves.”  
“Give me that goddamned tape,” bellowed Gus.  He started to push Jack back – I jumped on top of him trying to get him off my friend but more to hit him for doing stuff to my sister. 
“Get off of him, both of you,” Debbie shouted. 

Just then we heard lockers opening and closing quickly.  Gus let go of Jack

and turned the corner – “Okay you little jerks – knock it-“ he stopped mid-sentence and started to back away.  Jack and I ran over to see and there were four or five lockers just opening and closing randomly. 
“You little a**holes – make it stop!” said Gus whose voice sounded scared. 
“We’re not doing that –“ I replied in a whisper. 
“Jack – get the camera,” Jack was taking video when Debbie walked up and saw the lockers opening up on their own and started to scream. 
“Oh my God –oh my God!!!”  Gus freaked out.  He ran past all three of us muttering – “This is crazy- you are on your own!”  The lockers stopped a few seconds later.  Jack went over the Debbie to comfort her while I looked to see if there was some way they managed to move without some ethereal help.  “Jack we might have some actual ghost footage!”  I said excitedly.  

“Oh no you don’t – you can’t show that with me and Gus – I mean – Mom and Dad would – you just can’t –“ Debbie begged.  
“I’m pretty sure we didn’t get you and if we did – we’ll edit it out.  Please Debbie – this is some good stuff!” I pleaded. 
“Look,” said Jack, “I can tell people we shot it earlier in the night and we cut out you and Gus then you don’t get in trouble but you can’t tell on us either, deal?”  Debbie gave in which was not like my sister.  Personally, I just wanted to forget the whole Gus thing even happened.   

As we started to walk out of the field house – I thought I saw MeMa smiling in the locker room.  I looked again and she was gone. 
“Nice work with the locker doors,” said Nana to MeMa. 
“Thanks – I’m getting the hang of it – besides –I was not going let my granddaughter make me a great-grandmother posthumously nine months from now!”  The grandmothers smiled and faded out. 

We walked quietly through the streets and I thought I heard Debbie crying on the way home but didn’t know what to say.  As we got the key from under the mat and unlocked the back door – Jack turned to her and said, “Hey, you can do better than Gus – there are a ton of guys who would have treated you better than he did tonight – he’s an a**hole.”   Debbie smiled, kissed Jack on the forehead and said “Thank you.”  I had to hand it to my friend – he scored some major points with her that night.

The next morning we looked at the footage while everyone was still asleep.  The images were grainy but you could see the lockers opening and closing as well as some audio. 
“If we can get into the media center and edit out the Debbie stuff – we have a pretty solid tape!”  We went downstairs got some Captain Crunch and watched Saturday Supercade.  In between cartoons of video arcade characters there were Christmas commercials with stuff that looked cool but not as cool as Proton packs.  My parents came downstairs and saw that we had already helped ourselves to cereal.  “Hey boys, do you want me to make you eggs?”  my mom asked. 

"Yes, ma’am!” we said in unison.   Debbie came down a few minutes later trying not to look at us.  My parents took it as awkward teenage girl angst and nothing more.  Jack and I settled back on the couch in front of the TV and vegged on more crappy Saturday morning cartoons – for two teenage boys who for once didn’t have any chores on a Saturday – this was the life.  After about an hour – we heard a leaf blower going.  
Jack looked at me – “Dude, that sounds like the one my dad has.”  We looked out the living room window and sure enough – there was Jack’s dad clearing off the leaves in the front lawn.  My dad walked out, shook his hand and offered him some coffee.  Jack and I looked at each other – in the time that we had been friends and Jack had been hanging out over here – his dad had not once come over to check on him. 

“I wonder what’s up,” Jack said quietly.   He was afraid that his father might have had a few beers and was spoiling for a fight.   Instead, he came inside, introduced himself to my mother and thanked them for allowing Jack to stay over.   What happened next was truly interesting.  Our two dads went outside – did lawn work and talked about their days in Vietnam.   Jack watched apprehensively – afraid that his dad might do or say something that would cause a problem but everything appeared to be fine.

 “Boys,” my mother called, “could you help set the table - Mr. Bronson is staying for lunch.  We can heat up some of the leftovers from Thanksgiving.”  I grabbed the plates from the cupboard and Jack got the silverware – but he seemed quiet. 

“Hey you okay?” I asked.  
“Sure – it’s just my dad – sometimes he’s not that predictable and I don’t want him to –“  He didn’t have to finish – I knew what he was getting at.  “Hey – don’t worry – my parents love having you over – they call you the brother I never had.  They get your situation – it’ll be fine,” I said trying to reassure my friend and hoping that adult politics would not ruin a great friendship.

My sisters came down for lunch but were quiet when they saw Jack’s dad.  They just didn’t know what to make of the situation and it felt awkward.   Tom Bronson sized up the situation and made a bold statement.  “
Wow Dave, you didn’t tell me you had super models for sisters – ladies – it’s good to meet you!”   Jack and I held our collective breaths – you never knew how teenage girls would react – it was like a land mine.  The wrong type of pressure could result in an explosion.   Aimee and Tiffany looked at Jack’s dad and tilted their heads like puppies – then started to smile.  
“You really think we look like supermodels?” they gushed.  
“Yes ladies, if I was not here in Georgia – I would swear you two could be on the runways in New York,”  Tom Bronson cheerfully replied.
  

They laughed and thanked him.   I saw were Jack got his charm with the ladies – although Jack’s take was not nearly as polished.  Debbie came down and still was having a hard time making eye contact but when she saw Jack’s dad and it gave her someone to look at rather than adverting her gaze from us.  

We all sat down and it felt like a second Thanksgiving – but with less people and my best friend and his dad at the table which made it better.   I was learning that was what was going to be the hardest about the holidays this year and for years to come - missing the people you loved who were no longer at the table.  Everyone sitting and having lunch had experienced that kind of loss this year but maybe creating some new traditions like this after Thanksgiving lunch could help ease the pain.

The lunch conversations veered in many directions and Tom Bronson was pretty talkative – the most I had ever seen him say in the six months that Jack and I had been friends.  Mr. Bronson talked about traveling in Europe in the early 1960’s with stories that Jack had never heard – about being a traveling poet before he started college.  My mom tried to look amused but was afraid he was giving the girls ideas about being a hippie until they asked if he stayed in nice hotels.  When he explained that a hostile was a place where you slept in a room with strangers and used the same bathroom  – it immediately killed their sense of wanderlust. 

When the subject of what we wanted for Christmas came up – Jack and I immediately piped up with our number one choice – a Ghostbusters Proton Pack with Neutrona Arm.  The conversation came to a screeching halt and everyone looked at us like we had lost our damn minds. 
“A Proton Nutra what?” my mother asked still trying to process what we said. 
“It’s a radiation pack for neutralizing ghosts –  you know so Dave and I can be ghost hunters!” Jack said excitedly.   

The room paused for a second and then my mother said the one thing that would pretty much destroy our hopes.
“Oh, no – that sounds really dangerous – you’ll shoot your eye out!”  My dad and Jack’s dad just looked at us and my sisters’ eyes rolled so far back I was afraid I’d never see their pupils again. 
“What nerds – I mean you can’t be seriously serious,” said Tiffany in an exasperated tone that only a teenage sister could invoke.  Jack and I just sat there – trying not to feel like fools but it seemed like our request was meeting with ridicule.  

My dad smiled and said – “I get it – when I was your age – I wanted a Giant Pan American Clipper – it was an airplane.”  
“Hey I remember those, mine was a Disney Space ship set!” added Mr. Bronson.  Suddenly our hopes brightened – the men of the table got where we were coming from.   My mother just sighed – “We’ll just have to see – I’m not even sure where you would buy something like that.”   

The “we’ll see” was not a definite no – so Jack and I still held out some hope.   The lunch finished and Jack and his dad started out the door to go home.   “Thank you for lunch and I’d really like to return the favor sometime – you all have been so great to Jack –“ 
“No, Jack is wonderful – we love having him – anytime you or he wants to come over –“ my mother added and I knew she genuinely meant it. 

Over the next few weeks – Jack and I campaigned for the Proton packs –finding articles in sci-fi magazines and placing them on strategic places for our parents to find.  We even had the same English teacher and one of our assignments was to explain what the perfect holiday gift would be.   Our papers gave different reasons for the same thing – a proton pack to take down any ghosts that might want to menace the living.  We would take it upon ourselves to be the guardians of the city – keeping evil out and putting the ghosts on notice that we meant business.  We both thought we gave some very well-reasoned arguments and a fantastic conclusion to our papers.  Our teacher felt differently. Mrs. Sampson gave us both Cs on our papers with her main comment that they sounded dangerous and that we might shoot our eyes out.  It stung – feeling like our dream was being crushed by adults who only wanted to know the here and now. 

I stood there at my locker – holding my paper and feeling decidedly trapped in my life, this town and by adults who didn’t understand me.  Then the sting of hot tears started to drown my eyeballs and I realized that I was crying again.  But this time they were quiet tears that I could wipe away before anyone saw – except one person did see- Bruce Dane.  
“Hey faggot- why are you crying did your boyfriend Jack break up with you?”  I didn’t answer – I knew he was an asshole and was not worth fighting. 
“Did you hear me – you little pansy?”  I needed to put an end to this for me and all the other kids he’d terrorized over the years. 
“Bruce –let’s settle this after-school at Mather’s Park.”  Bruce looked surprised that I was going to stand-up to him – and that I wanted to fight in a place that was neutral. 

“Okay, ass-wipe – let’s meet and don’t let Jack so your fighting for you!”  He walked away with his little minions in tow to his next class and I stood there at my locker wondering what my MeMa would tell me to do.  My eyes got misty as I headed to my math class. 

“Dave, Dude – you need to call this off – Bruce is out for blood and you’ve never really fought anyone like that before,” Jack cautioned,
“Let me take him on – I’ve got your back. Seriously – let me help you.”   

Even though I was not a fighter –Bruce needed to be taken down a few pegs.  “No, Jack – I have to do this my self – my dad, mom, sisters – even you all try to protect me but I’ve got to fight my own fights – and I’m not going down without putting in a few good punches.”  Jack understood and we walked quietly to the park. 

Word had gotten around school that we’d be fighting and there was a pretty big crowd –  I showed up with Jack and Bruce had his usual posse with him. 
“So you showed up faggot – I see you brought  your boyfriend with you – “ Jack started to lunge towards Bruce but I kept him back.
“This is my fight –“ I said sternly and he backed away into the crowd.  
“So – sh**head you gonna start crying again over your little MeMa – she’s dead and can’t help you – “ Bruce said mockingly.

Jesus - this guy was such an a**hole.  He was trying to make me cry but it just made me mad.  I looked down for a moment and without warning – he punched me in the face.  For a nano-second I was dizzy, started to fall back.  I realized that I was in over my head and I wanted to stop this.  I wondered what MeMa would tell me to do.  Then I heard her voice say – “Punch the sh** out of that little bastard!!”   

I literally felt like someone stopped me from falling and pushed me towards

him.  The rage that I’d kept inside over my grandmother’s death started to surge forward.  My vision literally dimmed with a red hue and I was out for blood.  I heard myself utter a primal yell and lunged for Bruce.  I punched him in the face and knocked him down.  He got back up and tried to punch me but my arm stopped it and my other fist got an upper cut to his chin.  He fell back against the fence and I moved in – punching him in the stomach, the face, the arms with a reckless abandon I had never known before – spewing profanity like a drunken sailor and fighting like one too.  It was like all the times I had to quell my anger at everyone because I was the good kid –the responsible kid – the nice kid - now it was rushing forward in a red hot river of rage.  I could hear my mother telling me that God wouldn’t want me to fight –  to turn the other cheek is what they taught in catechism.   Well screw that – God took my grandmother and I couldn’t hurt him but I could punch the sh*t out of the guy who was mocking me.  Bruce’s face was getting bloody.  I had made my point but I didn’t care.  Jack tried to pull me off but I was not going to leave until he felt the full force of my anger. 
“Dave - stop – he’s had enough – just stop!” Jack pleaded.   

I kept hitting until I felt a pair of familiar hands on my shoulders. 
“Son, for God’s sake – stop – that’s enough,” I heard my father say which jolted me out of this surreal place of intense emotion and physical power. 
“But he made fun of MeMa – how she died –“ and then I started to sob and fell into my father’s arms.  

Bruce pulled away from the fence doubled over in pain – his hands covering his bloody nose.  The rest of the crowd was silent.  Jack walked over to me – “Hey Dave – I get it.   I miss my Nana too – death f*cking sucks.”   

My dad looked at Jack – “Yes it does,” he said quietly.    One of the other boys in the crowd said – “I miss my grandma too.  Sometimes it makes me cry and I’m not ashamed to say it.”  The rest of the kids nodded in agreement.   Bruce wanted to say something to put us down but realized he was weak and outnumbered.  He limped away with just one of his minions trailing after him – the rest stayed with us in quiet solidarity.    

My dad held onto me as the crowd started to thin – each with their own thoughts to process.   We walked to car without saying a word.  I saw how I looked in the rear view mirror.  Bruce had gotten one good punch off and had bloodied my mouth.  I had a very fat lip.  “What are we going to tell Mom?” I asked.  “I’m not sure – maybe she won’t notice.”  Yeah, right – she’d notice.  I’m her baby boy after all and she is always combing my hair in place and straightening my clothes – she might just pick-up on a bloody, swollen mouth. 

As the group dispersed, Nana and MeMa stood in the field watching the trio go to the car. 
“Nice upper cut,” said Nana.  
“Thanks, but I just got him back on his feet – the rest was all Dave.   Now maybe that little asshole will leave our grandsons alone,” said MeMa defiantly.  
“Yes, but doesn’t it bother you that Dave is so mad at God?” Nana asked.   MeMa paused for a second – “Yes, I’ve got to find a way to give him his faith back,”  she said as they both faded out. 

We pulled into the driveway and my mother came up to the car as we got out.  When she saw my face – she gasped.  “What happened?”  I started to say something but my father cut me off.  
“He got into a little scrape with a kid in the park – but it’s fine – I happened to be going by and picked him up – it’s no big deal.”  My mother seemed reassured until Aimee ran up.  “
"Oh my God – Dave beat up Bruce Dane!   I mean it’s not like that jerk didn’t have it coming to him.  I just didn’t think that Dave would be the one to hand his ass to him – my money was on Jack!”  

My mother looked at the men in the driveway sternly but then realized that I could take care of myself.   She started to smile and hugged me. “As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.  Here let me get you some ice for your mouth,” she said as she straightened my shirt and smoothed down my hair.  That night, Jack’s dad came over for dinner and we regaled everyone on the fight.  Later, our dads disappeared in the backyard workshop for guy talk which would undoubtedly include a discourse on how tough their sons were.  I’d never felt like one before but that night I was a genuine badass.  

The week of Christmas at school was a strange combination of finals and parties.  Jack and I tried to cruise through but there were last minute papers to write, cramming for geometry, English and Spanish.  In between there were holiday celebrations and cupcakes to be had between finals.  A few girls even baked me cookies and brownies because I was so “brave.”    Bruce kept his distance so my locker time was pretty stress free.  On the last day of school before winter break, my family decided to have dinner at the mall and invited Jack.   My parents told us to walk around while they did some shopping.  We saw the line for the Mall Santa which was full of kids under the age of six holding their stuffed animals and Barbies.  Two guys like us would look weird there even if we thought it would help our chances of getting Proton packs.  

We happened to pass by a storage room in the back of Macy’s and saw Santa (who actually looked like someone in their 30’s with a beard – go figure) taking a cigarette break.   Jack and I saw our chance and went up to him.  
“Hey there – Santa – can we have a word?”  Jack asked.  The Almost Santa looked a little apprehensive – we were two teenage boys wanting to talk to him after all. 
“Yeah, sure –“ he said looking around for a sharp stick just in case he needed it.  “Look, we know how this goes – you work for Santa but you’re not the real Santa – your Almost Santa and that’s fine.  We just need one thing for Christmas,” I started. 
“Okay, look boys - I can’t bring you Playboy bunnies – they just don’t fit down the chimney,” Almost Santa started to chuckle at his joke and then stopped when he saw our faces. 
“Girls would be cool but we need something that will actually help us later in life – “ Jack said.   He looked confused – what could we want if it wasn’t girls.  “We need you to ask Santa to bring us two Ghostbusters Proton Packs with Neutrona Arms so we can hunt ghosts.”  Almost Santa looked at us waiting for the punch line. 
“Okay, you’re serious – like the packs in the movie?”  he asked and we nodded. 
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea guys – you’ll shoot your eyes out.  Oh and don’t cross the beams.”  He chuckled again, put out his cigarette and walked away.  

Jack and I looked at each other.  “Okay, Almost Santa is a real dickhead,” I said. 
“Yeah, but if we could get Playboy bunnies – that would be awesome!” Jack replied – his teenage mind now filled with lusty thoughts of busty vixens. 
“Let’s find my parents and just go home,” I added – feeling dejected and like our whole plan was going down the tubes.  Right now I didn’t have faith in God, or Santa.   Except for beating up Bruce – this year had really sucked. 

On Christmas Eve, my parents invited Jack and his dad to Mass and dinner afterwards.  Christmas Eve was usually fun, but this year –it felt hollow and empty without MeMa.  She would make cookies with us on Christmas Eve during the day, sing carols badly and tell us about the holidays when she was little.  We tried to use her recipes and the cookies looked the same but they were not the same – nothing was the same.   

I went to Mass with my best friend and listened to the choir sing “Oh Holy

Night,” which was my grandmother’s favorite Christmas carol.  Usually I felt a sense of peace when I heard it – now I just felt empty.  The whole ritual of church seemed to be a farce.  Where was God when you needed him?  Where was he when my grandmother needed saving?  I was beginning to feel like I had been played this whole time by a religion that sold me a God that didn’t exist.  It made me mad – I bowed my head not in reverence but as a way to block out all the so-called holiness that was around me.  My mother sensed something was wrong but continued with the “Our Father” which everyone else around me was reciting by route.   I could not say anything right now but my New Year’s Resolution was to stop coming to church – it just felt like a waste of time. 

After Mass, we went back to our house.  My mother had been cooking chicken and pork in her crock pots and the smell in the house was amazing.  Tom Bronson helped make the salad and crescent rolls.  My mother appreciated the help – my dad was not much for the kitchen.  Finally, dinner was ready and we sat down.   We bowed our heads and my mother said grace.  Mr. Bronson asked to add to it.  

“Lord, we thank you for bringing us together – all of us on our separate journeys and for those whose journeys with us have ended – we remember and honor their memories.  Sometimes the road is hard and our hearts can be broken but it’s the renewal of life and friendships that give us hope.  We lost two very great ladies this year and we raise our glasses in a toast to their memories.   We love you and will never forget you.”   I raised my head to see how everyone else was reacting.  There were tears and a sense of relief that our sadness was being acknowledged even on a night when all was supposed to be right with the world.  My mother smiled and squeezed my father’s hand – it seemed natural for the Bronsons to be part of our family – their loss and ours had brought us together.

After dinner, our dads went out to the backyard workshop to shoot the breeze and have a few beers.  It was getting late and my mother invited Jack and his dad to stay the night.  Jack would stay in my room and his dad would stay in the guest room – which just made Christmas exponentially better.   We got out some books on ghosts and talked until about midnight when my mom made us turn out the lights. 

The next morning – the living room was filled with presents and Christmas did not start until 10:00 am – a time that worked well for my parents.  There were times when having a house full of teens who liked to sleep late worked in their favor.  My sisters ended up putting on a little make-up since we had guests and came down stairs in jeans and t-shirts rather than pajamas.  Mr. Bronson was already up and making breakfast when my parents came down.  

“Good morning Carolyn, I hope you don’t mind – I started breakfast and made some coffee.  The kids have hot chocolate.”  My mom was thrilled to have a hot cup of java waiting and cinnamon rolls out of the oven – that was the best present of all.   Jack loved that when his dad was over at our house he barely drank which kept his temper in check – under these conditions he could be a genuinely charming guy. 

We sat around the living room and exchanged presents – everyone had something to open.  For Jack this was the first Christmas he had with other kids and I could tell he was enjoying the dynamic.   My mother handed Jack and I our presents and I could tell she thought she had hit it out of the park.   

“Here boys, I hope this is what you wanted.”  We tore into the wrapping paper and saw the Ghostbuster’s logo so we had hopes that our dream had come true.  But as we looked closer – we had proton packs but they were just toys for little kids to play with.  I looked over at my mom who seemed so proud of the packs. 
“Hey thanks Mom, this is great,”  I said trying to mask my disappointment.   “Yes, Mrs. Jackson, thank you so much for this – I really appreciate it,”  Jack said also trying to mask his dejection.  The room just felt awkward.  

Finally, Debbie said, “Hey why don’t we get some more hot coco and cinnamon rolls.”   We headed to the kitchen – still smiling but feeling like we’d been kicked in the stomach.

Finally, all the presents had been opened – I got a few clothes for school, my mom bought Jack a couple of shirts and his Dad some books on history that he had mentioned he wanted to read.   Tom Bronson unveiled for my dad a custom iron drum BBQ and smoker which had made – apparently he used to make those in the army for his unit when they served in Vietnam which gave him another good reason to come over.  

The lack of real proton packs not withstanding – Christmas was actually pretty good.  I got to spend it with my friends and family.  Jack’s disappointment turned to joy when Debbie started to model some of the clothes she had gotten.  “Seriously Dude, your sister is smoking!”  he whispered and this time I did not try to put down his enthusiasm – it was Christmas after all and anything was possible. 

After the ladies started to clean up the wrapping paper and the kitchen – my

father asked Jack and I to come out into his workshop in the backyard.  We put on our jackets and walked outside.  It was about 45 and sunny as we made the short trek to the place my dad tinkered with things like lawn mowers, leaf blowers,  bicycle repair – you name it and my dad would try to fix it.  We walked into the shop and saw two objects that were covered up on the wall.  Jack’s dad was waiting for us. 

“Boys, we know that you had your hearts set on Proton packs and that the ones you got are more like toys than the real thing – but Santa had to work overtime and his elves just delivered these,” Tom Bronson announced proudly.  

The dads pulled the covers off and there right in front of us were two proton packs which looked like the ones used in Ghostbusters! 
“Holy sh*t, these are amazing!”  exclaimed Jack and then realizing he cursed said “Oh, f*ck I didn’t mean to say that!”  

We started to laugh as we got closer to something that we never thought we’d own.  

“Here take them off the wall and try them out.”   We put them on our backs and they felt pretty sturdy.  The Neutrona Arm actually had a blue beam of light which was created by a flash light and blue gel but it looked cool on the wall.  Real or not – these did not look like toys.  

“Hey, just one thing – your mother was so proud that she found those other ones – don’t let on that you have these.  You can keep them out here or at Jack’s – just out of her sight okay?” my father gently pleaded. 
“Sure dad, no problem.”   Our dads showed us more of the features – the cyclorama with the flashing lights and all the details like the ones from the movie.  

We walked out of the workshop – all smiles and high fiving each other – Christmas was finally living up to its reputation.   Mr. Bronson started to pack up their presents and headed home.   They would be back for dinner which was now going to include some smoked turkey.   Jack and I contemplated how to use our new piece of equipment.   

“Hey – there was that entity in the PE offices – why don’t we see if the building is open and see what we can find – just for an hour or so before dinner – c’mon I want to test drive the packs.”   I was not sure at first but then what was the point of having them if we did not use them.   I made sure my family was occupied and I told my parents we were headed over to Jack’s house. My dad saw us with the proton packs and thought we were moving them over there. 

 We walked the streets which were pretty quiet – kids were inside playing with their Christmas loot.  We traveled down the path of the PE office near the lockers and started to hear things clacking and moaning.  We turned the corner and once again there was Gus, but with a new girl on the couch.  Before we could leave, he spotted us. 

“Hey you little pervs – get the hell out of here before I –“ just then– the lockers started to open and close loudly.  Gus was trying to keep his cool but he was scared. 
“Stop doing that you little scum bags –“ he yelled as the teenage girl named Trudy on the couch started to scream.   Just then Mr. Bronson, my dad and Debbie rushed in.  
“I told you they would be here – wait – what?  Gus – who is this?” she said and pointed Trudy. 
“You have someone new already- you little ass—“  Debbie was cut off as the lockers started to shake.   Jack and I instinctively pointed the Neutrona Arm of our Proton packs in the direction of the noise and it immediately stopped.  

Gus screamed “This is f*cked up!” and ran out of the building – leaving his “date” behind.   Trudy started to run after him but Debbie stopped her. 
“Hey I don’t know you but I do know this – we deserve better. Gus is an a**hole!”  Trudy just looked at her and ran out – partially out of fear and partially out of embarrassment. 

The lockers started to open and close again.  

Our dads tried to make it stop by standing next to the lockers to keep them from moving.  Jack and I pointed the proton packs on the most active lockers and turned on the blue streams – just then the building lights went out and we could make out two forms.   They were full apparitions – it was hard to make out so we crossed our beams.  Then the entities truly came into focus and I nearly dropped the Neutrona Arm.  The ghosts were my MeMa and Jack’s Nana! 

Then MeMa started to speak, “Please don’t be sad – I’m looking out for you.  Jack and Tom - so is Nana.  We are in a better place – we love you.  We are with God and he loves you all. That’s what you have on this side – nothing but love.  Merry Christmas my sweets – just think of us and we’ll be there.”   

Nana and MeMa looked at the faces of those who loved and missed them and wished they could touch them once more.  The four most important men in their past lives stood there speechless with tears rolling down their cheeks.  Debbie reached out for her father and hugged him in a way she had not in months.  MeMa and Nana could feel that the group was finally at peace with what had happened.  They faded out with big smiles on their faces.

We all walked out of the field house wondering if we had seen what we thought we saw.  Some like Debbie had a hard time believing it but I didn’t – I knew it was her. I got to see my MeMa once last time and she was magnificent.   My dad told me that Jack and I should definitely pursue being paranormal investigators.  Even Jack’s dad was won over by this encounter - he got to see his mother again and it helped him cope with the death of his wife.  For Jack, seeing his Nana again was the culmination of all he had worked for and having us all see the same thing at the same time strengthened his resolve.  
For me, that Christmas restored a lot of things – my belief in myself, the ability to kickass and take names but most of all – I realized that there was a God.  He had a plan even if I didn’t always understand or like it.  I even changed my New Year’s Resolution.  This time when I went to church I would actually talk to God and now I would also be smart enough to be still and finally listen.