As Justin walked out of the Goodwin Mutual Trust Company for the last time a hollow feeling came over his psyche. He was no longer officially the Chief Claims Officer of the thirty second largest Insurance company in the world. He could now be described with a word that he disliked more than any other in his vast vocabulary…RETIREE!
Oh he was happy for the free time, permanent vacation which lay ahead, which he had earned after forty eight years of employment with but a single company. He had started in the mail room alongside Gustavis Goodwin, eighth “Goodwin” to work for his family’s firm.
Justin knew that unless Gustavis or “Gus” as he was known to close friends, wound up in prison, convicted of some atrocious crime, Gus would eventually become President of the company.
It was good to be friends with a Goodwin at Goodwin Mutual Insurance Company and Gus came to relay on the excellent judgement of Justin down through the years.
But today, would be the very last day that Justin would ever see Gus again, at least as an adult, of which, incidentally at the time, Justin was totally unaware.
Yes, it was a strange day for anyone under the circumstances, but especially for Justin.
After arriving home Justin went to his dressing room to change into retiree clothes, whatever they were. He’d ordered an array of outfits from Orvis that gave the impression of big game hunter, and a group of clothes from Caballas that hinted of fly fisherman, and finally a selection of duds ordered at Emporio Armani which translated to a look of European weekend sophistication.
Justin tried on all of his “looks” but couldn’t settle on a suitable non-suit for retirement.
Justin’s Mom had saved all of his clothes from his childhood and just because it was a day of reminiscence, Justin pulled out the trunk full of clothing and pictures from those, too long ago to count, happy days of way back when.
He was in the attic looking through the array of kid’s outfits complete with shoes, slightly worn and scuffed, when the room began to swim and the dust became caught up in a swirl, and as the swirling cloud grew larger and larger like a tornado, Justin was pulled into the cyclone and was swept away!
He didn’t know how long he’d been twirling but Justin was still dizzy when he thumped to a landing and tried to stand up or even focus on the vista before him.
After a minute or two and after rubbing his eyes, which never really helps anyhow, he realized that he was back in his old school yard at #55 elementary school.
“Get in here Kidagin, you are ALWAYS the last to come back in from recess. You’ll never amount to anything with that attitude of yours.”
It was Miss Jennings, his sixth grade teacher. Not one of his favorites but definitely one that always pushed him on to better effort.
Justin looked down at himself, his short legs and smallish feet and childlike hands and realized that he had seen those same limbs about the time that he was twelve years old!
He was still staring at himself when Miss Jennings, yelled for the second time…”NOW!”
Justin got up from the ground, and dusted himself off. Then, as he passed his stern teacher he said… “Miss Jennings, I am deeply disappointed in my abominable behavior and I am forthwith dedicating myself to correcting my demeanor to a degree where you will be alleviated from the dismay that I have caused during this recess period.”
As Justin took his seat behind his desk Miss Jennings was still standing at the door, mouth agape!
After a time of readjustment for Miss Jennings she resumed her duties at the head of the class and her lesson but never again looked even near the direction of the desk where Justin sat.
He was slowly beginning to understand what had happened to him and realizing the unbelievable power that he now possessed as a twelve year old WUNDERKIND!
It didn’t take long for the teachers to realize the success to be had by “showing off” Justin by way of Spelling Bees, Debates, Science Fairs, and all sorts of events where Justin blew away all competition.
After a month or so, the teachers were even asking him for advice, especially on matters of investing and insurance.
Letters that were sent home with Justin, were responded to by him as if he were his parents.
Justin was still living in the family home where he grew up and “walked to school” each day.
The beauty of Justin’s situation was that he still had his bank accounts and his pension from the Insurance company. He wouldn’t dare drive a car but ordered mostly everything from Amazon with home delivery.
Justin often went to the attic and tried to see if he could find a way to travel back and forth from retirement to sixth grade but never could get the “swirl” to build up any power.
He thought at first that he might be able to predict events since he had lived through them but somehow the “time twist” as he called it, didn’t work that way.
But he had plenty of clout as a twelve year old with the experience of a retiree and that was more than enough to deal with on a daily basis.
He didn’t really want to admit it to himself and of course couldn’t to the rest of the world, but he was actually starting to miss things.
He was doing lots of homework and although it was easy, it took time and he had to do it even if he didn’t want to. Plus, he couldn’t go anywhere as an adult or even by himself except to school without an adult being with him.
He missed driving his car. He missed being tall, he missed adult friends, and frankly he missed so many things that he couldn’t even list them all, though he tried.
He was deciding, and not too slowly, that he actually missed something that he never would have guessed: he missed the idea of retirement. A comfortable one where he could go nearly everywhere and do almost anything he wanted, when he wanted, and with whom he wanted: go to sleep when he wished and sleep as late as he wished and eat adult foods.
But there was a problem. How to “Get Back”.
He spent hours in the attic but nothing that he tried seemed to get the swirl going. Until one Saturday, after he had beeen experimenting all day with “get back” methods, he pulled out the trunk where the children’s clothing and photos had originally been stored. Justin had placed all of his “retirement outfits, the Hunter, The Fisherman, and the European Sophisticate into the trunk and replaced it back into the attic corner.
Upon opening the lid and pulling out the second outfit, there it was…”THE SWIRL” and he madly pulled outfits out of that trunk as fast as he could and the tornado gathered him up along with the clothing and after a wild and hectic ride, dumped him with a thump onto his patio with a glass of adult lemonade in his hand, wearing a safari jacket, waders and fishing boots and a beret! But he had made it all the way back to retirement and total bliss.
Justin Kidagin was never ever a kid again and he was so happy, that from that day forward, he laughed every single day.
The lesson from this tale is that if you ever meet an extremely precocious 12 year old, check out his attic!

“EIGHT…Where is EIGHT?. This is getting to be too much of a habit with him!” exclaimed NINE.
“I am ONE that agrees TWO!”
“That’s spelled Too ONE!”
“This is the FIFTH or SIXTH time he’s either been out of order or not here at all!” said FOUR!
“That makes THREE of us that agree TWO!”
“EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT! EIGHT!” That’s the SEVENTH time I’ve called him with NO ANSWER!” Grumbled NINE.
“Hey…is anyone lookin’ for me?” asked EIGHT.
A number of numbers all yelled “NOOOOOO!!!”
So EIGHT left and all the numbers that were trying to line up accomplished exactly ZERO!

A hummingbird was humming around

Making his smooth humming sound

While the canary was singing

Dulcet tones his throat bringing

Neither aware that the other’s around

Then the hummingbird sat on a limb

And the canary looked over at him

“Pardon me Chum Aren’t you the guy that can hum?”

“Yes and you’re the bird that sings on a whim!”

The canary felt somewhat dumb

Admitting that he wished he could hum

“Well I have no choice

I’ve no singing voice…

Oh I wish that I could sing some!”

“I’ll teach you to hum if you teach me to sing”

“Yes think of the joy we could both bring!”

So they each gave some lessons

But ended confessin’

That neither had learned anything!

“I guess I must do and I guess you must too…

Be happy for the talent we’ve got”

“So I’ll sing in the Spring”…

“And I’ll hum everything”…

“Can we be someone else?

I guess not!”

The kids were waiting for the morning school bus

All were happy without the usual fuss

Then a strange sight came down their road

A painted polka dot bus with a cartoon toad

It was wobbly and bounced as it came near

And it clunked and rattled loudly to the ear

The kids weren’t sure if they would climb inside

But they all decided that they just had to ride

The driver Dan was their regular guy

And he laughed really loud as he said “Hi!”

The seats were orange and the roof was green

It was the sillyist bus they’d EVER seen

But they all got to school safe and sound

‘Though some were happy to put their feet on the ground

But after they got off and looked back around

The silly bus was missing, nowhere to be found

The kids were still chatting about the morning fun

So the teacher asked about it when they were done

When they told the teacher about the very strange ride

She laughed and held up her SYLLABUS guide

“Watch your thumb Erik” his Dad said as Erik was about to drive the last nail.
“There! We built it Dad!”
“Well…you mostly built it Erik…it’s YOUR tree house…I just kinda watched a lot.”
“Let’s go down to the yard and look at it!” Erik said excitedly.
They climbed down the slats that were nailed into the old oak tree and when they got down to the grass
they looked up at the handywork.
“It’s the greatest tree house ever Dad!”
“It sure is! Enjoy it and try to be careful. It IS a long way to fall.”
“I know…I will.” Erik couldn’t stop looking up at the finished project and soon his neck started to hurt.
Erik’s Dad had left and the boy hadn’t even noticed, he had been so enthralled at the sight of his “masterpiece”.
“Wait until my buddies see this!” Erik thought.
This would be the exclusive “boy’s clubhouse” with no girls allowed…EVER!. At least, that was the plan. It was way past twilight now and Erik knew that Dad’s rules said that Erik or any of his friends were not allowed to go up into the treehouse at night. Also either Erik’s Mom or Dad had to be home when he went up there. Other things like not leaving any food there and stuff but mainly it was Erik’s private refuge from the trials of boyhood and a few rules didn’t make it any less terrific.
Erik could hardly sleep that night and since it was Friday, he could spend all day Saturday in his treehouse if he wanted. He was thinking about which of his friends he would “honor” by being the first invitee and because he was so tired out by his home building labors he fell sound asleep.

The next morning before even the birds were chirping Erik was up and dressed and out into the backyard. His treehouse sure looked great in the early morning light! Erik climbed up the slats and crawled into his house. A gray squirrel was there in the corner looking up, and then left, then right and all around the interior of the structure.
“This is about the finest tree house I ever did see!”…said…the…squirrel???
“What?” exclaimed Erik.
“THIS IS ABOUT THE….”
“OK OK….I get it….I’m not deaf!” Erik held up his hand to quiet the squirrel. “Quiet the squirrel?”
“You….you….just talked.” Erik whispered in amazement.
“Ah…yeah…I guess I did…didn’t I?”
“Yeah….and you still are…talking that is.”
“Weird!” exclaimed the squirrel.
Just then a mockingbird flew into the open window and whistled. “Whew…this is some tree house huh?”
“Yeah, I was just tellin’ the kid….”
“WAIT! What’s goin’ on here?”
Two Robins were sitting on the window sill and whistling and nodding their heads. “Nice huh?”
“Yeah….real nice!” the birds chirped to each other.
Erik rubbed his eyes, shook his head then all the animals began to talk at each other all at once.
Erik put his fingers to his mouth like his Father had taught him and whistled a loud shrill “TWEET!!!”
They all nodded and looked at Erik as if waiting for the next command.
“You can’t all talk at once!”
Two more squirrels came in.”Hey Ted…what’s up?”
“Yo…Howie….some tree house huh?”
“Wait….do you mean that you animals can ALL talk?”
“Huh…yeah….I….guess we can….couldn’t yesterday….well….not to humans.” remarked the mockingbird.
“Well…not even five minutes ago….outside the tree house.”
“Wait here!” the mockingbird waddled out of the window frame and sat on the limb…“Chirp…tweet….chirp…” was all that anyone heard until she stepped back into the tree house.
“I was saying that I think….NO I KNOW….that this treehouse is magic!” the mockingbird said.
Then one of the squirrels went outside and could only chatter until he stepped back inside….”WOW!”
All of a sudden Erik was speaking to the mockingbird and his english language changed into bird chirps and the bird was shaking his head in agreement to what Erik was saying. Then as Erik turned to the squirrels he began chattering and they nodded in agreement also.
Then Erik heard the squirrel chatter “I’m getting’ hungry…gotta get goin!”
“Sure” chattered Erik and then chirped a goodbye to the mockingbird as she flew off to look for bugs and worms.
Then Erik was alone in his wonderful treehouse. And as he looked out of the window the squirrel in the next tree winked at him, chattered a long chatter but Erik didn’t have a clue as to what the squirrel was trying to say. The mockingbird winked too but Erik couldn’t understand the whistling and it sounded just like normal bird chirps to him now.
And believe it or not Erik was never able to communicate with the birds and squirrels ever again. But he would never forget that one special first morning at his tree house…and actually never told another soul about it …until now.

It was 12:14 AM, later than usual when the Mitchells finally turned off all the downstairs lights and went up to bed. After a few moments…”Everyone….all clear…we may commence the evenings festivities!” The shrill, but very feminine voice of the porcelain “Majesty” pattern teapot announced from the dining room breakfront.
“Hey any of youse in dere seen Homer?” An earthenware pitcher called out from the kitchen.

“Naw but I did hear a huge clatter in the kitchen around noon!” responded a pepper grinder which had a marvelous view from the shelf above the stove.
“I didn’t shee noshing from where I wash all day.” said the cream pitcher with the chipped lip.

“Well he ain’t in the sink and he ain’t in the dishwasher….and…OH OH….what’s dem pieces I see in da trash….could dat be….” the earthenware pitcher moaned a soft moan and then went silent.
“Hey youse guys we’re ready to party!” the plastic knife yelled from the picnic basket!

“Well, I imagine we have to allow all utensils to participate in each evenings festivities.” The porcelain chocolate  pot sniffed.

And indeed most evenings all the Mitchell household’s plates, cups, serving pieces and flatware shook off their frozen daytime personalities and had a grand get together in the kitchen. The sterling silver still tended to hang around with the porcelain dinnerware and the earthenware were more often seen with the plastic picnicware but all gathered for a bit of exercise and fun after a full day of remaining totally still. The plates spun on their edges and the cups twirled and all danced in their own style and the dish did NOT run away with the spoon as was reported earlier!
But it was a hard and fast rule that two minutes before sunrise all participants had to return to their rightful places.

Well one fine morning in June a porcelain porridge bowl and a plastic spoon did not get back in time and had to freeze in their positions in the very center of the kitchen table!

Mr. And Mrs. Mitchell descended the stairs…”What’s this! This bowl and spoon weren’t here last night Martha…we’ve had burglars in the house!!!”
“Don’t be silly Reginald…burglars don’t eat porridge! It’s just the utensils having fun!”

Of course I can’t remember when I was just an idea in the creative brain of my author. I’m fairly certain that I am far from the first book thought that was had, but I’m grateful for the creation and pursuit.
In fact, my first memory was when I was about fifty-five pages old and my protagonist had just been taken into custody by the police.
I had to keep reminding myself that I was FICTION and not to worry because there were probably hundreds of more pages to go to straighten everything out.
But I DO have story friends that didn’t have hundreds of pages and wound up bound along with others of their kind into a book of many short stories. But I digress.
I’m going to let you in on a secret here, I really wasn’t fond of my main character during those early pages but I’m just the book and have no control over the story that I am forced to tell.
I must also interject here. There are good authors and some not so good authors and we books can’t choose our creators but I am fortunate because I was lucky to have been given a good one.
When I was about ninety-seven pages long it seemed like ages before I turned the page onto ninety-eight. But I found out later that it is not uncommon to go through that as a young book and I went through those sort of stages many times until I was finished.
As I added pages I also added many literary characters and plots and subplots and I actually got quite confused myself as to who I actually was and where I was headed.

Just between us, I had a bit of wavering faith in my author many times but always was happy that at least I was not one of those SciFi books. They never seemed quite right to me even though there are a few near me on this bookshelf so I shouldn’t make too much of it here.
Things were going along smoothly until page two hundred and
Seven, Chapter ten.
My hero, main character, protagonist… died! My author
“Killed Him Off!” I was not ready for that, I must tell you.
Of course, I found out why my author did that and it made sense to me by the end.
And by the way “The End” is just the beginning for a book. I mean it is actually when you graduate and go out into the world to entertain the readers that will hold you and caress you and yes, also sometimes dog ear you or spill coffee on your pages or worst of all, make notes in your margins!

Which brings me to the modern challenge of E Books. Well, I don’t mean to sound aloof but does anyone really think that holding an electronic device is really preferable to a hardbound book with its tactile luxury and even library aroma?
The jury is still out on that I guess and I am a bit one sided on that thinking.
But the reason I asked you to listen to my story today, other than making my case for traditional printed and bound books is that I am so proud.
I am announcing today that have a new just born, ah first printing I should say…SEQUEL!
I’m saving a place on my bookshelf for it right next to me.
So in the meantime, keep reading and going to bookstores and library’s and enjoy real books and stories just like mine!

“Hey Drew…hurry up….you’re late this morning.” A muffled but distinctly gruff voice emanated from the blank page on cartoonist Drew Daniels drawing board.
Drew looked around but there wasn’t anyone else in his studio and indeed it was earlier than he usually started to draw his syndicated daily cartoon column of a dachshund that always seemed to be too short too long and in too much trouble!
Drew took a sip of his morning coffee and as he put the very first line down on the white paper with his black inked pen, the line began to move all on its own. Drew was startled! This had NEVER happened before…and how could it? It was IMPOSSIBLE!!! Wasn’t it?
“Listen Mister Smarty Pants artist…I want bigger frames…or at least wider ones…I’m too cramped in these skimpy ones you do!”
“Ah…D…Doodley?”
“Yeah who else…you really have limited talent you know. I always look the same, act the same…do the same stupid stuff…and I’m gettin’ sick of it!”
The line had magically and mysteriously continued to draw itself until the Doodley character was way too large and pushing his two dimensional snout right up off the paper and yelling at Drew even without the customary word “balloon”!
“I…ah…..I don’t have to listen to you….I can rip the page right off of the board and crumple it up and throw it into the trash….or….even BURN IT!!!” said Drew defiantly.
“Ah….not so hasty Drew….I…..was perhaps a bit too coarse in our discussion of my rights as a famous, well….semi-famous cartoon!”
“That’s better. But you must know Doodley that there are strict sizes for frames and length of cartoons set by the papers….so I just can’t draw anything, any size, any way…I want to.”
“Well….I’ve seen double wide frames on even some of the most famous cartoon strips. I look around you know….at the competition as it were….I don’t just sit there dead still on the comics page. I have my pride.”
“Part of your…ah….charm to readers is that you ARE long and short and seem to be tightly fitted in the frame. That’s part of the fun Doodley.”
“Not for me Pal.” Doodley’s outline had gotten smaller as he calmed down and he was almost back to normal size.
“You are just going through a bit of a time when you aren’t happy right now but perhaps I can fix that. Tell you what….let me draw today’s strip with a new idea that I just had and I bet you’ll be fine with it. But you’ve gotta promise me….NO MORE jumping out of the pages….EVER AGAIN.”
“Well….we have been together for a long time ….so I promise….but ONLY if I’m happy about it!” Doodley said, now completely back to normal size.
Drew finished the strip and in the last frame was Doodley smiling bigger than he’d ever smiled….standing right next to his new very feminine cute companion with the yellow bow “Doodles”

“George!”
“Abe!…ah….6042A….I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”
“No…3088D..I don’t believe so.”
“George….how did you get that notch there near the corner?”
“Oh, that….yeah….zipper nipped me as she pulled me out to pay for a balloon at the Dollar Store. LOVE THAT PLACE.”
“Zippers…yeah….why can’t humans stick to the soft old folding wallets?”

“Progress…I guess. I hate those vending machines too, though I will admit they do help with the wrinkles you know!”

“By the way, I saw dozens of new Franklins last week when I passed through the First National Bank. I kinda like the older versions of those bills that look more like us don’t you?”
“Ah…progress again….but yes we’re more…classic…traditional…Abe.”

“By the way…I don’t really like going through the Federal Banks. I’m always nervous that they’ll examine me and decide that I’m too worn to stay in circulation.”
“Oh you’ve got a long time before …ah….I hate to say it….but you know….the SHREDDING!”
“Let’s change the subject Abe…oh wait is she gonna?…..yep….well…see you again I hope!”
“You’re gonna be with lots of friends here at the Dollar Store….see ya! George.”

“Gosh it’s lonely in here now that George is gone. I hope we go to the supermarket. I love being in those cash trays with lots of other Lincolns.”
Then a new voice yelled out….”Hey….you’re puttin’ me in the wrong….oh no…..”
“What are you doing in here? You don’t belong here this compartment is just for bills, legal tender, CASH!”
“Listen, I don’t like it any more than you do Lincoln….Might as well make the best of it….I’m Visa but you can just call me “VEE”!

“No “FOR SALE” signs. No Real Estate Agents. No Open House events with cookies and personal tours. (Love cookies by the way) But on the plus side, my new house will be free…NO MORTGAGE!”
Actually my “House” is more like a camper. I started out small with a shell previously owned by a snail. But I soon outgrew it and had to find a bigger one. I’m on my fifth home now and I’m getting a little cramped.”
“And by the way. I don’t mean to disparage molluscs, but some of those previous owner snails really leave a messy shell. I ALWAYS do my housecleaning when moving on.”
“Ah….there….over by the turfgrass. WOW…what a beautiful golden brown color with tiny dots of dark brown. Let’s see. Looks pretty clean in there. Has to be a caring Hermit crab.”
“UGH! Wouldn’t you know it. Just a wee bit too tight. That is indeed a shame. I loved that Metropolitan style of the shell. Oh Well…the search goes on.”
“But wait. There over by the path. That one isn’t quite as stylish but it is HUGE!”
“HELLO…Hello…hello” Man it even has an echo!” I’ll just do a walk through….Gosh it’s roomy in here.” I think this one is perfect…well, except for the dull grey color….but maybe that’s good for camouflage.”
“Oh I LOVE IT…I’ll just….WAIT….this thing is heavy….WAY too heavy. I don’t want to have to carry this load around all day and running? Forget about that!”
“Shame.” Well I guess I have to go to the last resort and see my former owner Mary. She released me back into the “wild” when she left for college.”
“Mary will be able to solve my “Goldilocks” problem.”
“How can Mary help you may ask. She sells sea shells by the sea shore!”