Images: Old Woman by Mali Desha – Weasel by James Armes – Rabbits by Bunly Hort
My Real Memoir
I loved Momandad and my “daymom” Frieda and all of her animals. But it was the spring of my fifth year, and I was starting to feel the need for something, or rather someone, different. I didn’t know it yet, but I was about to make my first real human friend.
Apart from a few orange trees and a trash incinerator, our back yard was barren. Our trees were toddlers, too young to climb, and I’d already checked the incinerator for buried treasure. Now what?
Then I Spotted a Weasel!
It was the sleekest thing I’d ever seen. If other animals were sedans, it was a sports car! “Hi!” I shouted. It instantly took off like the furry roadster it was. An offer to play? Maybe. I chased after it. Past the side of our house and across the street, into an overgrown lot. Through the weeds it raced, and then into a tunnel of wooden arches thickly choked with dead vines.
The weasel was gone by the time I climbed out the end. But instead, I found something better: a human who needed a friend as much as I did. “Tea?” she said in a tiny voice.
Crazy Old Alice
That was what the humans on our side of the street called her. Dressed in a raggedy frock, and as skinny as that weasel, she led me to her cottage. No, there was no furnace for cooking wayward children. She didn’t want to eat me. Alice simply wanted to serve me watery tea, and show me the big bronze soldier statue that dominated her little living room. She spoke very little and mumbled when she did, so it remained a mystery. There was almost no furniture other than the statue.
Then we went outside, and Alice showed me her rabbits. “Easter Bunnies!” I thought. They lived in hutches and loved attention, so I began visiting Alice and her bunnies almost every day. Only gradually did I realize: I was Alice’s only friend.
I always brought carrots for the rabbits, and one day I caught Alice taking their carrots! I told her it was wrong to steal, especially from Easter bunnies. But she continued to do it.
And Then…
A few weeks later, I was climbing through the overgrown arches, when a tall, scary man suddenly lifted me up by my shirt collar. He shouted, using all kinds of bad words, and told me he’d kill me if he ever caught me there again!
That night, I dreamed I was climbing through the vine-choked arches. Only now the vines were electrical wires, and the scary man was at the end of the tunnel, laughing gleefully. Then I accidentally touched a wire, and instantly fell to the ground…and died! The people I loved circled over me, weeping, their tears striking my face as I released my final breath.
The next day, I told my parents about Alice and the Easter bunnies, and about the man who’d used bad words and threatened to kill me. They were stunned, and went straight over to Crazy Old Alice’s cottage.
What They Discovered Was Horrendous
Alice, the widow of a decorated war hero (the soldier statue), was only in her late 40s, but she’d had a stroke. She lived on a hero’s pension, but it was regularly cashed and pocketed by her son, the tall scary man. As her legal guardian, he provided her with tea, a few meager canned goods, and an occasional cheap smock. She was starving and alone.
But no more. The neighbors had Alice’s son arrested, cleaned up her house, and showered her with food and clothing.
I was no longer her only human friend.
To read My Real Memoir from the start, click here. To read the next episode, click here.
Your first human friend – and what a friend you were to her!
🧡
God used a little boy to overcome evil with good. Pretty amazing Mitch.
In retrospect, Pamela, there was more going than I understood then. It was my mother who told me years later about how the neighbors got involved.
God often works that way, I think, that way we don’t go thinking too much of ourselves lol
Oh, Mitch!❤️🙏
🧡
Thank you for sharing this heartwarming story of your childhood. It brought tears to my eyes.
🧡
I love this. ♥️
Thank you, BoB. 🧡
Stories like this make me appreciate childhood and it’s loveliness in a way I was never able too. Very specia thing you do. ❤️
🧡
What a great story. 👍❤️
What a momentous story. I love “She spoke very little and mumbled when she did, so it remained a mystery.”, I love the kindness in your words, thank you very much for sharing Mitch!💜
My privilege, Renate.
Wow!
Loved it MItch, especially the neighbors that came together. We need community so desperately. I love it when we all come together!
Yes!
Justice win the day!
Wow what a great story!! Brought tears to my eyes Mitch.
🧡
That’s amazing.
I did not expect this ending!
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” 🙂
🧡
Oh, this story is so touching.
🧡
I am very glad Alice’s story had a happy ending.
Me too, Liz.
I’m glad that Alice had a good outcome. Elder abuse is still happening all the time. What good neighbours and how wonderful that you were Alice’s friend.
🧡
Touching and wonderful.
🧡
What a wonderful blessing your friendship with Alice turned out to be! 🙂
It did indeed, Nancy.
This story has God’s fingerprints all over it. 😉
I agree, Annie, although at the time I couldn’t see it that way.
You saved each other unknowingly. This choked me up. And what a dream at that age.
🧡
The weasel deserves some credit here. What an excellent guide! 🙂 🐿️
;>)
What an interesting little boy! 😁
🧡
This story reminds me: When I was 5 years old, I was told, were the easter eggs are come from:
My Picture Book “Easter Bunnie Hyazint” shows how Hyazint the rabbit has the Idea to paint the eggs of ducks to help them not to die in a pan. The farmer said: No eggs – no life!
In the neibourhood of my grandmother was a path behind some houses, showing their backyards. One of them was a Duckyard. And Dad told me: That are the real ducks out of “Hyazint”. If you walk here in April, may be, you meet Hyazint, painting the eggs!
I trusted him.
So from that day the path has its name: The Hyazint Grove.
“Go to the bakery! Walk Hyazint Grove. Its shorter!”
Then Grandmother died. The family has nomore reasons to drive to the little town.
20 years later. I drove near by and I took the longer way to see Grandmothers House again.
I parked the car on marketplace and walked from the bakery with an icecream like 20 years before to the well known adress of my vacation paradies along Hyazint grove, the shorter way. But there were nomore ducks. Just a Car-Port now.
The ghost of Hyazint disapeared. Melancholy Mood. And when the path ended, the next shock: A plain garden and no house anymore. My vacation paradies was gone.
But it still lives in your heart.
Good story.. thank you.. ❤️
My pleasure, Fiona. 🧡
What a remarkable encounter and what a brave young lad you were. I don’t think it’s a stretch to think that the vast majority of kids, having been threatened by an adult in such a way – would justifiably never mention a word of it to anyone.
I have to say that the weasel was a Godsent! ❤️
This story breaks my heart in a number of ways….but what a difference little boy you was used to make for the good in this dear woman’s life! Still loving the way you use the gifts you’ve been given. Thank you dear Mitch, for yet another touching, uplifting, wonderful story.
Thank you, dear Matilda, and wonderful to hear from you❣
What a precious story, Mitch! You got the desire of your heart and Alice got what was the thing she needed most–freedom from tyranny. God truly does work in mysterious ways. Who would think that following a weasel would bring such results? God bless you.
Thank you, Diane, and God bless you.
Mitch, what a wonderful story of how a young lonely boy befriends a “crazy lady.” Your friendship led to her getting help. Love given begats more love from everyone!
It does indeed, Hazel.
😊
What a great story, Mitch. And how wonderful things turned out for Alice! ❤
🧡
Thanks for sharing this wonderful story, Mitch. God often uses children in inspiring ways even when they aren’t aware of it. No wonder He said, “Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” (Matthew 18:3)
Amen, Leo & Nina.
Pingback: My First Human Friend – QuietMomentsWithGod
You have a gift of spreading laughter. I enjoyed reading. Great work by detective Mitch. :-). The abuse some elderly goes through is unbelievable. However, our Heavenly Father sees and in time action/s done to correct injustice. Thanks for sharing.
My pleasure, Anonymous friend.
A child will lead them!
Pingback: My First Kid Friend - Mitch TeemleyMitch Teemley
Pingback: How Mom Taught Me to Express Myself - Mitch TeemleyMitch Teemley
Pingback: The Year I Turned Shy - Mitch TeemleyMitch Teemley