Fun Friday (on Wednesday): A Redneck Balcony Scene

This was one of the assignments I gave my Shakespeare class: to rewrite a scene in a different time and place, to show the students how setting influences character.  As usual, I wrote a "sample" to give them an idea, and my son and I dramatically read it (with me on a ladder as our "balcony").

A Redneck Love Story  Act 2, Scene 2 

In the hills of Tennessee outside Capulet’s two-story log cabin.

ROMEO:  Well, lookie there!  It’s a light in yonder winder.  But Juliet’s so bright she don’t need no sun.  She’s my woman, but she jest don’t know it yet.  Lookie how she leans her cheek on her hand.  Yessirree, Bob, I’d shore like to be a glove on that thar hand!

JULIET:  Ah, swanee.

ROMEO:  She’s a talkin’.  Can’t quite make it out.  Say somethin’ else, why don’tcha?

JULIET:  Romeo, Romeo, why in tarnation is yer name Romeo?  Deny yer kinfolk and get yourself a new name.

ROMEO:  Should I keep my trap shut or say somethin’ now?

JULIET:  It’s only yer name that causes this here fussin’ and feudin’.  You are yer cornpoke self, not a Montague.  What’s in a name, anyhow?  What we call a mess o’ greens would taste just as good if we called it hog waller.  Romeo, toss yer name in the creek and take all o’ me!

ROMEO:  (Coming forward)  Sure enough, honey lamb!  Jest call me “lover boy” and I’ll change my name to Festus or somethin’.

JULIET:  Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!  Who’s out there?

ROMEO:  Since you hate my name so much, I wish it was writ on a piece o’ paper so’s I could tear it up.

JULIET:  I know yer voice.  Ain’t you Romeo, and a Montague?

ROMEO:  Not Romeo.  Not Montague neither, since you hate them names so much.

JULIET:  I’m shore glad you can’t see me blushin’ jest now.  Do you love me more than coon huntin’?  I know you’re a gonna say yes.  And you already heerd me say that I love you. 

ROMEO:  Sweetcakes, I swear by yonder moon—

JULIET:  Oh, don’t swear by the moon!  It don’t stay the same.  Don’t swear by nothin’.  This is happenin’ too fast.  Goodnight, and next time we sees each other, our tadpole of love will grow into a bullfrog.

ROMEO:  Are ya gonna leave me with my tongue hangin’ out?

JULIET:  What in tarnation are ye talkin’ about?

ROMEO:  I love you.  You love me.  Cain’t we jest lay our cards out on the table?

JULIET:  Well, I do love you more than coon huntin’.  More than shoofly pie, even.   (Nurse calls from within the cabin)  I’m a-comin’!  Stay here and I’ll be right back.  (Exit Juliet)

ROMEO:  She makes me feel happier than a tick on a coon dog!  A really fat tick!

JULIET:  (returning) Just a little more and I really better git.  If you really want to get hitched, I’ll send someone to you in the mornin’ to find out what time and who’s gonna do the hitchin’.  Then we can git ourselves outta this here feud and build our own cabin somewheres.  (Nurse calls)  I’m a comin’!  But if yer just messin’ with me, then git outta here and leave me to cry myself to sleep.  (Nurse calls again)  I said I was a comin’!  Good night!  Sleep tight!  Don’t let the bedbugs bite!  (she exits)

ROMEO:  I must be dreamin’.  If I is dreamin’, I shore don’t wanna wake up!

JULIET: (returning)  Psst, Romeo.

ROMEO:  Yes, Honeydew?

JULIET:  What time tomorry should I send my messenger?

ROMEO:  How ‘bout nine?

JULIET:  Okey dokey.  It’ll feel like twenty years ‘til then.  (pauses)  I cain’t remember why I called you back.

ROMEO:  I ain’t in no hurry.  I’ll jest wait ‘til you remembers.

JULIET:  I’d be happy as a dead pig in the sunshine if you stayed all night, but I don’t want nobody to find you and fill you full a’ holes.  So goodnight!  Sayin’ goodnight is so hard to do I wish I could jest keep sayin’ it ‘til the sun came up.  (exits)

ROMEO:  I hope you can sleep, ‘cause I shore don’t think I can close my eyes.  I better go find Brother Rastus and see about gettin’ hitched.  (exits)

Hair and Back Again: A Hair-Razing Journey

Now that it's been over eight and a half years since I had nuclear-bomb strength chemo for fast-growing lymphoma, I don't mind people seeing what I looked like during that sickly time. If you know someone going through chemo, this might encourage them that their hair WILL grow back.

I wrote this poem about a year after chemo, and later published an article with Coping With Cancer magazine (link below), but this is mostly a photo journal.

age 21--my preferred length

I've always had long hair.
It was part of what defined me.

Hair doesn't make a person, though,
does it?

So why do I feel as different
on the inside
as I do on the outside?

First I dyed my brown hair red
for fun, I said.

When the red hair began to fall out
I cut it short
to lessen the mess, I said.

Going....

Going...

Then it all poured off one day
except for two stubborn strands
and I shaved them so I could feel
that bald was my choice.

It wasn't.

Gone

For weeks I had three personas:
Long brown curly wig,
Short red sassy wig,
Scarf topped with hat.

Before I lost eyebrows & eyelashes

Not one hair left on me--this was the worst I felt.

Under each of them I hid,
trying to figure out who I had become.

No hair yet but now in remission!

At last the hair began to grow back
very
very
slowly.
Marine recruits had more than I did.
Hats were still my best friends.

3 months post-remission

Now it's longer, very curly
and people tell me, "Cute."
But still I mourn my old hair,
and the old me.

7 months

One year

Two years

Three years (goofy bangs!!!)

I did ask my oncologist if she'd put "Miracle Gro" in my chemo, because not only did my hair come back, I've stayed in remission for eight and a half years--and counting!

Link to Coping With Cancer article

Fun Friday: American Idyll

Here's another "play" I wrote using favorite characters (and in this case a few live people, too) of a class of students at a local private school. I even included their teacher, and they enjoyed it so much they put on a production of it at the end of the school year and invited me to come see it. So fun!

American Idyll

by Katy Huth Jones

Cast of Characters:

Students at Ogden Nash High School:

Troy Bolton

Gabriella Montez

Vanessa Doofenschmirtz

Hannah Montana

London Tipton

Shaun White

Napoleon Dynamite

Patrick Starfish

Elizabeth Swann

Bobby Boucher

Indiana Jones

American Idyll Judges:

Simon Cowell

Tony Romo

Sarah Palin

Mrs. Gordon (as herself)

Scene 1:  English class, last day before Easter Break.  MRS. GORDON is standing before her distracted English class which includes TROY, GABRIELLA, VANESSA, HANNAH, LONDON, SHAUN, NAPOLEON, PATRICK, ELIZABETH, BOBBY, and INDIANA.  Students are whispering among themselves.

MRS. GORDON:  Your Easter Break begins in just a few minutes.  (Students cheer as she holds up a hand for attention.)  Please give me your attention for an important announcement.

(Students give her their full attention.)

MRS. GORDON:  When we return after Easter Break, we'll begin a special unit on poetry.  (Students groan.)  Now, now, hear me out.  (Students get quiet.)  Before radio and television were invented, people used to gather and listen to others recite poetry.  Sometimes the poet would recite his or her own poetry, and sometimes others would memorize well-known poems and recite them.

VANESSA:  Mrs. Gordon, that sounds really boring.

LONDON:  It sure does.

INDIANA:  I'd rather visit the Reptile House at the zoo than listen to poetry.

(Students talk among themselves.)

MRS. GORDON:  (Holding up her hand for silence.)  Since our school is named for Ogden Nash, a famous American poet, I've decided that our class will have a formal poetry recital.  Each of you is required to recite two poems by memory.  (More groans are heard.)  You will recite one original poem and one by another poet.

GABRIELLA:  Is there a minimum word count, Mrs. Gordon?  I read ahead in the book and some of Ogden Nash's poems are only two lines long.

TROY:  Haikus have only three lines.  I might be able to memorize one of those.

HANNAH:  Sweet niblets!  If only we were singing, I could do that all day!  (Students sound enthusiastic.)  Who wants to have a singing recital?

PATRICK:  I do!

ALL:  Yes, music!

MRS. GORDON:  You've already had a music recital this year.  We're going to do something different.  After all, many song lyrics can stand alone as poems.  Perhaps you can think of this recital as singing without music.

ELIZABETH:  Actually, I quite like this idea.  The only song I know is "It's a Pirate's Life for Me," and I'm tone deaf anyway, so I'd rather recite the words.

MRS. GORDON:  You don't need to stress yourselves.  I just wanted to give you plenty of time to plan ahead.  We'll begin writing poetry next week and then decide a date for our recital.  I'd like for you to invite your families.

NAPOLEON:  My family would never come.  They're just too weird.

SHAUN:  Reciting poetry is not as exciting as snowboarding, so I'm not sure mine would come, either.

BOBBY:  I think my Mama would come.

MRS. GORDON:  Have a good Easter Break and we'll make our plans when you get back.

(Bell rings.  Students gather up books, backpacks, etc. and begin to leave.)

HANNAH:  I sure wish we could sing instead.

GABRIELLA:  So do I.  But a poetry recital might not be so bad.

TROY:  You're kidding, right?

GABRIELLA:  No, I mean it.

LONDON:  I think it sounds dumb.

NAPOLEON:  More than dumb.

BOBBY:  Maybe a little dumb.

VANESSA (to the girls):  Did you hear that Sarah Palin is coming to Kerrville for a book signing in May?

HANNAH, GABRIELLA:  Really?

SHAUN:  What day in May?

VANESSA:  The Saturday before Mother's Day.  Why?

SHAUN:  Well, that's the same weekend Tony Romo will be visiting my uncle.

BOBBY:  Tony Romo?  Are you kidding me?

SHAUN:  No, it's true.  Romo and my uncle were roommates in college.

TROY:  Cool!

LONDON:  Who cares about Tony Romo.  I want to know more about Sarah Palin.

SHAUN:  Who cares about Sarah Palin?

GIRLS:  We do!

ELIZABETH:  That's a busy weekend.  Simon Cowell will also be in Kerrville.

NAPOLEON:  Sweet!

PATRICK:  Who's that?

LONDON:  What do you mean, "Who's that?"  Don't you watch "American Idol"?

PATRICK:  I don't have TV.

LONDON:  No TV?  How do you live?

INDIANA:  American idol.  Is that the one made of gold in a secret cave in South America?

SHAUN:  You're kidding, right?

INDIANA:  We don't have TV either.  Dad only lets me have books.

TROY:  Don't even try to explain American Idol to them.  It would take too long.

VANESSA:  You know what?  I just had a really crazy idea.

ALL:  What?

VANESSA:  How often do three famous people come to Kerrville in one weekend?

HANNAH:  During the Folklife Festival?

LONDON:  She means really famous people.  Like Simon Cowell!

BOBBY:  Like Tony Romo!

GABRIELLA:  Like Sarah Palin!

NAPOLEON:  What's your crazy idea, Vanessa?

VANESSA:  What if we had our poetry recital and asked them to judge it?

LONDON:  No way!

PATRICK:  Yes way!

HANNAH:  You mean they judge our poems instead of songs and stuff?

VANESSA:  Sure, why not?

ELIZABETH:  I think it would be rather exciting!

BOBBY:  What if I got stage fright and forgot my poems?

SHAUN:  There'd be nothing to fear at a poetry recital.

INDIANA:  That's what scares me.

GABRIELLA:  But would they agree to judge us?  How could we pay them?

LONDON:  With money?

TROY:  Whose money?  I'm sure they'd charge a lot.

GABRIELLA:  We could have a bake sale.

PATRICK:  Why don't we just ask them?

VANESSA:  Good idea, Patrick.  I'll ask Sarah Palin.

SHAUN:  And I'll ask Tony Romo.

ELIZABETH:  And I'll ask Simon.

NAPOLEON:  So we just need to see what Simon says.

PATRICK:  Simon says, "Have a good Easter Break!"

ALL:  Good-bye, Patrick!

Scene 2:  Mrs. Gordon's class, sometime after Easter Break.  The students are talking before the bell rings.

GABRIELLA (to Vanessa):  So, what did you find out?

TROY:  Yeah, the suspense is killing me.

VANESSA:  Sarah Palin finally got back with me, and she said she would be honored to judge our poetry recital after her book signing on that Saturday!  I asked her how much she charged, and she said she would do it for free.

LONDON:  Wow!

SHAUN:  When my uncle called Tony Romo, I got to talk to him too, and he said Saturday night was his only free time.

BOBBY:  How much?  A million bucks, I bet.

SHAUN:  No, he said he would do it for free, since I'm like family.

NAPOLEON:  Yesssssss.

INDIANA:  And how about this idol guy?

ELIZABETH:  He said he might be able to do it.

VANESSA:  Not definitely?

ELIZABETH:  No.  But he is supposed to let me know by the first of May.

GABRIELLA:  Well, even if he can't do it, we still have two famous people.

TROY:  Shouldn't we have three on the judge's panel, though?

HANNAH:  Three is much better than two.

PATRICK:  Especially when it comes to meals.

(Bell rings.  Students take their seats.)

MRS. GORDON:  I'd like to take a few minutes to talk about the poetry recital.  (Vanessa raises her hand.)  Yes, Vanessa?

VANESSA:  Mrs. Gordon, we have an idea.

BOBBY:  A really good idea.

PATRICK:  A really, really good idea!

MRS. GORDON:  Well, what is it?

VANESSA:  We'd like for the poetry recital to be judged.

MRS. GORDON:  Judged?  By whom?

LONDON:  Sarah Palin and—

SHAUN:  Tony Romo and—

ELIZABETH:  Simon Cowell, if he can make it.

MRS. GORDON:  You're kidding, right?

ALL:  Oh, no!

GABRIELLA:  Sarah Palin and Tony Romo can judge for sure the Saturday night before Mother's Day.

TROY:  But Simon Cowell won't know for sure until May 1^st.

MRS. GORDON:  It sounds like you want to follow the format from American Idol.

HANNAH:  Oh, yes!  We'd like to recite our poetry dramatically, or in costume, or whatever.

NAPOLEON:  (Striking a pose) "I like my tots.  Lots and lots."  Is that dramatic enough?

INDIANA:  Dramatic?  No.  Dumb?  Yes.

HANNAH:  Ya think?

MRS. GORDON:  With such notable celebrities as judges, do you want to open this to the public?

(The students look at one another with their mouths open.)

GIRLS:  Yes! }

                       (Simultaneously)

BOYS:  No! }

TROY:  We should keep this at the school, Mrs. Gordon.  If word got out, it could turn into a circus.

VANESSA:  But couldn't this give our school great publicity?

BOBBY:  I'm not reciting poetry in front of the whole city!

HANNAH:  But what if Simon really likes you?

LONDON:  Yay, me!

MRS. GORDON:  I'll just step in and make a decision to keep this within our school. 

GIRLS:  Awwww. }

                                (Simultaneously)

BOYS:  Yea!!!!!

MRS. GORDON:  And since you will be judged, you only have to recite your original poem.

ALL:  Yea!!!!!!

GABRIELLA:  What should we call our recital?

ELIZABETH:  "Poetry Recital" does sound rather lame.

VANESSA:  Can't we call it "American Idol"?

SHAUN:  No, silly.  It won't be exactly like it.

PATRICK:  How about "Ogden Nash Idol?" 

BOBBY:  Naw, that's dumb.

TROY:  What about "idyll" spelled I-D-Y-L-L?

LONDON:  What does that mean?

INDIANA:  If that means what I think it means, it would be perfect.

GABRIELLA:  Let's check the dictionary.  (Opens book)  "Idyll.  A short poem depicting a peaceful, idealized country scene.  A long poem that tells a story about heroic deeds or extraordinary events set in the distant past.   For example, Idylls of the King, by Alfred Lord Tennyson, is about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table."  (Looks at Troy)  How did you know it had something to do with poetry?

TROY:  (Shrugs)  Just a lucky guess, I guess.

HANNAH:  That sounds like the perfect name for our recital!  American Idyll!

NAPOLEON:  Yessssss!

Scene 3:  The Saturday before Mother's Day.  An empty stage with three desks lined in a row to one side and a sign that reads "American Idyll."  VANESSA is pacing nervously.  HANNAH stands nearby.

VANESSA:  What if the judges don't show up?  What if they get lost?

HANNAH:  Don't worry, Vanessa.  It'll all work out!

(LONDON enters.)

LONDON:  They're coming!  They're all coming!

(Enter SARAH PALIN, TONY ROMO, and SIMON COWELL, followed by all the others.)

VANESSA:  (Hugging SARAH)  I'm Vanessa.  Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Palin!

SARAH:  You betcha!  And please, call me Sarah.

VANESSA:  Thanks, Sarah!

HANNAH:  (To Tony Romo)  Thank you for coming, Mr. Romo.

TONY:  (Shakes Hannah's hand)  My pleasure.  I'm a football guy 24/7 but I'll give poetry my best shot.

ELIZABETH:  Everyone, this is Simon Cowell.

ALL:  Hi, Simon!

SIMON:  Thank you for inviting me.  I am looking forward to this.  I really am.

MRS. GORDON:  Well, if you will take your seats, the parents are coming in now and we'll get started.  (Waits while everyone is seated.)  Good evening, and welcome to American Idyll.  I'd like to welcome and introduce our three distinguished judges.  First is Sarah Palin.  (SARAH stands and waves while everyone claps.)  Next is Tony Romo.  (TONY stands and nods while everyone claps.)  And last, but certainly not least is Simon Cowell.  (SIMON stands and smiles while everyone claps.)  The students will be reciting their own original poetry.  Our first contestant is London Tipton.

(As each student recites, he or she moves to center front.  After Simon's "pronouncement" he or she moves back with appropriate facial response.)

LONDON:   Ice cream, bananas and caramel topping,

Strawberry, chocolate—oh, I am not stopping!

Candy bits, sprinkles and three kinds of nuts,

Whipped cream and cherries—I'll have happy guts!

SARAH:  Nice imagery.

TONY:  Your rhymes are technically correct.

SIMON:  The last word—it was like watching a horror movie.  Next, please.

MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Bobby Boucher.

BOBBY:   The caiman is a wee black 'gator

With a cuter face than most.

See him now, or see him later

But don't get close or you are toast.

SARAH:  That was just a bit—weird.

TONY:  I'd have to give you a technical foul on that one.

SIMON:  You're like a little hamster trying to be a tiger.  Or a 'gator' in this case.  Next!

MRS. GORDON:  Next is Elizabeth Swann.

ELIZABETH:  The Black Avenger is my name,

I plunder ships of the Spanish Main.

My two mates are with me here,

and our names inspire fear:

Mad Dog Jack and One-Eyed Joe.

Ladies faint where’er we go.

We’ll keep sailing together forever—

At least, that is, ‘til suppertime.

SARAH:  I think I understand what you were trying to do with this mask poem, but it falls flat.

TONY:  Like a football with a hole in it.

SIMON:  It was actually a bit cheap.  I actually think you're better than that as an artist.  Next, please.

MRS. GORDON:  Next is Shaun White.

SHAUN:  If a pig's evading capture

While he's slogging through the muck,

Would you call his movements pig-zag?

Or just call it dumb pig luck?

SARAH:  Great action words!  I like the visual you've got here.

TONY:  Yeah, it reminds me of some rainy day football games.

SIMON:  You're like an enthusiastic dog, aren’t you?  Next!

MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Vanessa Doofenschmirtz.

SIMON:  Seriously?  (To Vanessa) Your name should get you at least partial credit.

VANESSA:  Betty likes spaghetti,

Norman likes it, too.

But don't give any to Baby Benny

Or he'll throw it back at you.

SARAH:  Cute rhymes, cute poem.

TONY:  A little too cute, in my playbook.

SIMON:  It was rather like eating ice for lunch.  It leaves you with nothing to remember afterwards.  Next!

MRS. GORDON:  Next is Indiana Jones.

INDIANA: I am a warrior, bold and brave.

I fight the ogres who live in the cave.

I guard the king when he travels the land

And serve him true with head, heart and hand.

I'm good at chess, but I like archeology better.

SARAH:  If you just cut that last line, it was a lyrical mask poem.

TONY:  I really wanted you to win badly.  But that one fumbled.

SIMON:  Until the last line, you were brilliant.  But then it actually sounded stupid.  Next.

MRS. GORDON:  Next is Troy Bolton.

TROY:   The bumpy, lumpy wart hog

Will never be a beauty.

But if you tease her hoglets,

Those tusks will shake your booty!

SARAH:  Just a tad bit forced.  I like the bumpy, lumpy part, though.

TONY:  I'm not sure that booty really rhymes with beauty.  Another ref might have a different opinion.

SIMON:  There's something about this poem….but I'm not sure what it is.  Next!

MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Gabriella Montez.

GABRIELLA:  My dog has got a bone

But likes to use my phone.

Don't be shocked

But he's unlocked

The keypad on his own.

SARAH:  That was great!  Unexpectedly delightful!

TONY:  You just may have scored a field goal with that one.

SIMON:  I'm going to make this brief.  Brilliant.  Next.

MRS. GORDON:  Next is Patrick Starfish.

PATRICK:  Rainbow fish, rainbow sky,

Rainbow birds, rainbow pie.

I really wish I could catch a fish.

Let's go eat cake beside the lake.

SARAH:  Nice try, but I think you need to keep working on that one.

TONY:  Fumble.  Reeeeeeally bad fumble.

SIMON:  I really wish you had forgotten the words, because it was such a pointless performance.  Next!

MRS. GORDON:  Next we have Napoleon Dynamite.

NAPOLEON:  The liger, the liger

Is only half tiger

The other half is lion

And I'm not lyin'.

SARAH:  Uh, what can I say?

TONY:  You're gonna have ups and downs in this game.

SIMON:  That poem actually gave me a headache.  Next, please.

MRS. GORDON:  Our last poet is Hannah Montana.

SIMON:  Even her name is a poem.

HANNAH:  (Spoken with a strong beat so that the audience starts clapping in time.)

Miss Mandy Mouse cleans her wee little house

on this bloomin' fine spring day.

She sweeps each room with her pine needle broom

and her tail chases dust away.

When the tables and chairs and the beds and the stairs

are as tidy as they can be,

Miss Mandy will sit and drink a little bit

of her dandelion tea.

(Everyone applauds, even the judges.)

SARAH:  What a perfect little poem!  You are quite the performer!

TONY:  I like your passion for this poem.

SIMON:  You're the best tonight by a clear mile.  (Everyone cheers.)

MRS. GORDON:  Well, that ends our American Idyll.  We want to thank everyone for coming, especially our distinguished judges.  (Everyone claps.)  And to each of my students I'd like to say that you are a poet, and I'll bet you didn't know it, even though your feet show it, because they're Longfellows.

ALL:  (Groaning) Aw, Mrs. Gordon!

END

My First Guilty Conscience

Judy was my friend and neighbor in the first grade.  Our dads were stationed at Schofield Barracks in Hawaii, and we spent a lot of time in one another's homes.

One day while playing at Judy's house, I saw a quarter on her dresser.  Wow!  A whole quarter!  I earned pennies and occasionally nickels for chores, so a quarter seemed like a lot of money to me.  I was surprised Judy would be so careless about such a valuable a piece of change.

The whole time we played with our dolls, I kept thinking about that quarter.  I could buy a lot with twenty-five cents.  Judy certainly didn't need it; she had twice as many dolls as I had.

When it came time for me to go home, I decided I was going to take that quarter with me.  I waited until Judy walked out of the room, then I picked up the coin and slipped it into my pocket.  My stomach felt a little funny as I followed her down the stairs, but maybe it was because it was almost suppertime.

I went home.  I ate supper.  I took my bath.  I went to bed.  But I didn't fall asleep right away.  I kept thinking about the quarter I'd put in my piggybank.  And thinking about it brought me no pleasure.  It had seemed, when I took it, that I was going to be the happiest kid in the world.

Instead, I felt terrible.

All the next day in school I thought about that quarter.  I didn't feel like playing at recess.

"Are you sick?" my teacher asked me.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered.

The teacher felt my head, said I was fine, and told me to sit down.  It seemed the day would never end.

I went home without going to Judy's first.  I ate supper.  I took my bath.  But before I went to bed, a dam burst inside me.  I fished the quarter out of my piggybank and took it to my mother.  I held it out to her in my clammy little hand.

"I took this," I wailed.  "From Judy's dresser."

"Is that so?" my mother said, looking down at me.  I expected lightning to shoot from her eyes at any moment.

I sniffed, rubbing the tears from my cheeks.  "I'm sorry, Mom."

She nodded.  "You have to take it back."
What?  Take it back?  Judy would never be my friend again!
"Tomorrow morning," she said.  Tomorrow was Saturday.

I tossed and turned for hours, it seemed.  When I fell asleep, it was with a heavy heart.

I finally awoke.  I did not turn on the television to watch cartoons.  I played with my cold cereal for a while.  Mom did not let me forget what I was supposed to do.  How could I forget?

She walked with me as I held the quarter in my sweaty hand.  At the edge of Judy's yard, she bade me go to the door alone.

I walked the last few steps very, very slowly.  The sidewalk never seemed so long.  I timidly knocked on the door, afraid to push the doorbell.  Judy's mother answered with a smile.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice all trembly.  "I took this from Judy."  I placed the quarter in her hand.

Before she could say a word, I turned and ran all the way home.

Mom never said another word about the quarter.  But I never forgot what I'd done, and I never, ever, wanted to steal another thing after that.  Not even a quarter.

1st grade muu-muu wearer with family