Minty Fresh

While I’m at work, I sometimes put a piece of gum in my mouth. Usually, it’s Ice Breakers or Winterfresh because I like mint. I’ve gotten really good at keeping it hidden. I chew it at first and then just kinda hold it in my mouth when I’m around the kids so they don’t know I’m breaking the rule. Hehe Sneaky, I know…but they haven’t caught on yet.

So today I’m in science. I bent down at a table to help a boy. He needed to measure the circumference of his rock and I was helping him hold the tape measure in place.

We were talking and he said, “Hey! Ms. Kerri, your hair smells like mint!”

“It does?” I ask.

“Yeah, I really like your shampoo!”

“Well, thank you very much, Jeremy! What a nice thing to say.”




Uncle Henry

My husband and I just got back from our nightly drive. We live on a very small island, so the scenery never changes, but it gives us a chance to be together without the distraction of a ringing telephone or the television and computer.

Tonight we were treated to a lightning show. We’ve had a lot of them this summer. More than I remember witnessing as a child. Looking up at the sky, I drifted back to childhood.

I was reminded of the many times I sat on my grandfather’s porch with my cousin and our Uncle Henry. Looking in from the outside, Uncle Henry was a complicated man. Those of us who knew him, knew him to be a kind man with a great sense of humor. As a child, he had polio. This resulted in twisted joints and arthritis. He couldn’t walk without the aid of a cane.

My cousin lived with her mother in my grandfather’s house. The house my dad grew up in. Being crippled, Uncle Henry never was able to move out on his own. So he had the same bedroom all his life. Unable to fully participate in the life happening around him, he turned to his VHF radio. His call name was Smokey. He had friends who never laid eyes on him because of that radio.

If he left the house, it was only to sit on the front porch. I used to sit with him. He’d talk to me in our native language about watching his little brother (my dad) grow up. He’d tell me how proud of him he was.

As a child, whenever we had northern lights, I would go visit Uncle Henry. I’d invite him out to the porch and we’d sit and watch the sky. He used to tell me that if I would whistle loud enough, the lights would dance for me. As hard as I’d try, I just couldn’t whistle loud enough. He’d whistle and sure enough, the lights would move. I’m sure the whistle had nothing to do with the lights moving, but at the time my uncle was magic. He had the power to make great things happen. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t straighten his fingers. I didn’t care that he couldn’t stand up without the cane in his hand. He was MY uncle and he was magic.

Today would have been his 74th birthday.