< 8 >

It's a nice arrangement. They get free maintenance and I get to never grow up.I like working with kids. Generally I have a lot more respect for them than the arrogant and pretentious beings they turn into when they grow up. They're straight up; they value every moment and unlike my wife, my parents and the rest of the adult world, they love my imagination.

A red-headed pint sized linebacker slammed into my left leg. "I love you, Uncle Tom." "I love you, too, Nicholas Robbins" I said as I fought for balance. A roving pack of 4 and 5 year olds greeted me as I came onto the playground. That first five minutes when I arrive at St. Maddy's is probably the best time of my week. Since I only come on Friday afternoons, it's a big deal. When I walk in the gate the whole playground erupts with choruses of "Uncle Tom! Uncle Tom!" Kids come running from all directions to hug my neck and drown me in affection. Just the thing to shore up an old brokendown ballplayer's spirits.

"Well, I see you still haven't been able to get a real job. What'sa matter, no work out there for well off white people?" "Oh there's plenty of work," I replied "you've got your positions in savings and loan fraud, television evangelism accounting, your odd job for the military industrial complex keepin' the nigras down on the the plantation and of course I could probably get on as a South African policeman or an Israeli soldier, both respected jobs for white people but...I think I'll just stick to my original career path." "Oh really," she laughed "well tell me little boy, what do you want to be when you grow up? Not a basketball player I hope."

I ignored the jab. "No, I've given up on that, too old, now I want to be watermelon taster for the NAACP or maybe talk to Gladys Knight about joining the Pips...you've seen me dance?" I did an off-balance buck and a wing. We both dissolved into laughter. Tell me," I asked "how's the Pope?" I know just where to get her. She's a practicing Catholic and a little embarrassed about it. "Hey, did you hear the one about what happened when the Pope went to mount Olive?...Popeye beat the hell out of...ouch!"

< 9 >

I was thinking how great it was to be with these people, to be at this place, to have the life I have. Sure I've got problems. I make mistakes. There are a number of areas in my life where I've made a habit of it. Still, the great thing about being with kids is that you learn to appreciate the magic in the world. They show you each moment, each event, each experience as an opportunity for wonder. I love them and they know it. That's all it takes for them to love me back with all their massive little hearts.

After Variety walked away, I wandered around the playground for a few minutes giving and getting hugs from various children and ended up under a big pecan tree to get some relief from the heat. As I settled my worn out old frame into the grass, I heard a funny sound. It sounded familiar but far away...sort of like running water...but different. I squinted into the afternoon sun hanging low in the sky above the parking lot just outside the playground. As I listened, the sound seemed to grow louder. My mind ran through the possibilites... a broken water main, several children giggling, somebody playing some cheerful but unusual music on a car stereo. I looked harder but it was hard to focus. The heat rising off the blacktop obscured something that seemed just out of my vision.

I cupped my hands over my eyes to block out the sun and thought I saw something. Things seemed to get quiet on the playground. There was a sort of "ffffooooop" sound that shook my concentration. I looked around to see if all the kids were okay. When I turned back, a naked little black boy came running over to me from across the playground. Now I've got to admit, my first reaction was to take him in and put some clothes on him. If one of the parents came and found their youngster naked with a 6' 6" ex-hippie basketball player...well I just didn't want to explain it. I reached out and took his hand and started walking as fast as possible into the building.

I got part way and Variety sauntered up. "Oh crap," I thought "she'll have a field day with this one." "Leaving your post stretch?" she asked "whatsamatter, can't hold it?" I shuffled and looked down at my naked ward. "Well, we've got a little business to take care of. Somebody decided to do the afternoon au naturel." She looked at me, then looked back on the playground, then looked back at me again. "What...who?" she asked I nodded at the urchin at my feet. "This person right here" I said.

< 10 >

She looked confused, then suspicious. "I don't know what you're setting up with this one Uncle Tom, but it won't work. I'm wise to your tricks." She smiled and eased off with a nervous look I recognized from previous practical jokes. "Go choose another victim" she suggested. Suddenly I was struck by a paralyzing fear. Something was wrong. I felt dizzy and confused. All I remember was the sound of a mountain stream laughing as I fell backwards onto the pea gravel of St. Maddy's playground.
I was running down a dark game trail in an overgrown forest. Briars and thorns tore at my legs. A tangle of brush and grapevine hung over the path creating an impenetrable barrier to either side. They were calling me. I could hear their voices. I had to hurry...they were in danger...dying. The path constricted even further until I was no longer able to run. I had to get on my hands and knees and crawl. I fought my way through the snarl of brush. I was having to force my way through it on my stomach. They were just ahead. I could hear them.

The bramble and the briar caught on my clothes. I tore at it, crying out in frustration. The struggling only got me more entangled. The voices were even more desperate and afraid. I knew if I could just get loose and reach out my hand I could help. The vines just tightened their grip. They tore at my skin and scratched my face. I closed my eyes and writhed on the ground, screaming "Let me go! I've got to save them!" The voices kept calling my name. Tiny hands were running their fingers over my body. They wanted something. They shouted at me in desperation.
"He's still here." I thought "I must be going crazy." He gave me a penetrating look, then went back to drawing in the sand. Now I'm a child of the Nicholas Robbins held my face in his hands. Several of the other children were gathered around me on the ground petting my chest and legs. "It's time to wake up Uncle Tom." Nicholas smiled as Variety and one of the other teachers came running up, concern on their faces. “Tom are you okay?" She grabbed my wrist, felt my cheeks and all that other stuff they teach in the first aid course required by the state for day care providers.

< 11 >

"I'm fine, I'm fine" I mumbled to the people standing around me, "It must be the heat." I shooed them all away, then scooted over into the shade and put my back against the tree. I saw Variety walk into the school and knew she was going in to call my wife. Well, I'd have to deal with that later. Right now, I needed to sort a few things out.

As I watched Sarah and the boy play, I started humming "You Can't Ever Come Down" from the American Metaphysical Circus album by Joe Byrd and the Field Hippies. I checked out my body. Nothing hurt, I was a little dizzy but some disorientation was understandable given I had just regained consciousness. Yep, I could feel all ten fingers and all ten toes. I was all there. I got up unsteadily and walked over to the two children.

looked around the playground. Variety and the other teacher kept casting worried looks in my direction. I waved and smiled hoping to make them feel more secure than I felt myself. I couldn't understand why they didn't come over and dress my little 'maginary friend. St Maddy's is a liberal school but a fully naked child on the playground would not be considered de rigueur.

They can't see me." said the little boy."I only created my image for the little girl in order to facilitate our conversation. I am not theirs... and..." he paused as though struggling for words "they are past the age." I didn't say anything yet. I still wasn't sure I should be talking to a hallucination. "What you heard before, the voices, it was the beginning of the awakening. You are a Sentinel. I am your friend. We have much to do."

< 12 >

I put my hand in front of my mouth so no one could see me talking. "What do you mean `the awakening'?" I asked. "A time for testing has come to your world. Much will be determined in a very short while. The child will be raised. If he is accepted, your world will experience a sudden maturation. If he is not, all will be lost. "What is a Sentinel?" I asked.

"You are the watcher. You are to watch and record. You see as an adult but you can love and be as a child. You live in both worlds. Only a few like you and the children can be shown the truth. "What truth?" Things were getting heavy. My hallucination was using the "T" word. "Your world is awakening, all life, like..." he looked in my eyes as if he was fishing for a metaphor "...like a butterfly leaving a cocoon. It will be very vulnerable for a while. It is a critical period. If you survive, your world will have..." he searched for the right words again "...will have a new life."

Now I wasn't really listening to this. My mind was desperately trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for this decidely unreasonable situation. The kid looked maybe five years old. He talked like he was sixty... or from another planet. I didn't even want to think about the fact that the other adults couldn't see him. The only explanation I could come up with was that I was either off the deep end or someone had slipped me a hallucinogenic mickey. I had drifted off and was running the various possibilities around in my mind when he interrupted my train of thought.

“Do not indulge yourself in thinking...be with me. You can trust your senses. What you see is what is so. I know this is difficult," he said patiently "but we have little time. I cannot stay with you for long. Your life...your mind...is not suited." Suddenly I was uncontrollably angry. "Helter Skelter" off the Beatles White Album blasted from my subconsious. I turned away from him and stomped over to the other side of the playground. I didn't care who was watching. I was furious. I slammed my fist into the chain link fence so hard I cut my knuckles. I looked at the blood oozing over my fist and decided I had better get out of there. I charged over to Variety.

< 13 >

"I think maybe I should go home." I said. I was choking on the words. Variety was clearly disturbed by my behavior. "I think you should let someone drive you Tom." I kept on walking. I mumbled something about being all right and practically ran to my truck. In a near panic, I started the old Ford and drove away as fast as I could. Z Z top was on the tape deck. I think the tune was "Manic Mechanic" off the Deguello album.

There I sat, full of angst and raging, pinned like some still struggling insect to the bottom of the great collector's cigar box. I felt an incredible black sorrow welling up in my heart. One that wouldn't dissipate no matter how I cried, no matter how I screamed. When I closed my eyes, my reality dissolved. I was the starving Ethiopian child, numb from hunger and malnutrition. I was his mother, sick at heart with helplessness and frustration, watching her child slip away.

I was the little girl in Brooklyn watching her father sit in front of the TV and drink, knowing she would wake in the night to find him running his sweaty hands over her quaking body. I felt the drunken lust and the cold, black pain of her father. I was a little boy in Tucson hiding under the sheets listening to the screams of his mother and the dull slap of his father's fists, knowing sooner or late, it would be my turn. I felt the mindless, violent fury of his father and the terror and helplessness of his mother. I lay dying in my own feces in an institution in Romania...hollow, mindless, having never known a kind hand, a caring touch...life having less value than the next bowl of watery porridge.

Faces swam before me. Their anger and desperation swelled in my breast. I felt their anger but mostly I felt their resignation, their sorrow, their pain. Young or old, they were dissapointed children to whom life had told a horrible lie. They thought someone, somewhere was going to love them and hold them and keep them safe. If they could just hold on. If they could just make another day.

< 14 >

didn't know what was happening to me. I was in such pain, I fell on my hands and knees on the ground and was violently ill. I knew no one was coming. I knew there was no savior, no redemption, no forgiveness of sins. There was only horror on top of horror stacked to the bloody gates of heaven. The only thing we had to look forward to was the cold, murky nothingness of the grave, more pain...more blind, cold oblivion. My heart fell to depths I had never experienced. I didn't care if I lived or died. Nothing mattered, not my wife, my boys, nothing. My body and my eternal soul were more swill for the hogs of my childhood. I could hear my father's voice as I lay haunted and bitter on the musty earth.


I sat up and crawled over to the rock shelf. With my back stiff and my fingernails biting into my thighs, I forced my mind back to matters at hand. After a while, I decided I had limited choices. If my imaginary friend was legit, I needed to listen and get to work. It was clear enough from what he had said already that I was invited to a serious party. If he was the raving of my lunatic mind, I still needed to process whatever neurosis brought him into being. Once again, face him.


Fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to school. I had stopped to call the wife. Jessie's a great lady. I cooked up a weak story about what had happened at school and why I was coming home late. She didn't believe a word of it and told me so. Still, after exacting a promise that I would visit a doctor the next day, she let me off the hook without too many explanations. She said she'd be interested to hear about what was going on when I made it home. That's marriage shorthand for "If you expect to keep your manhood, you'll make a full and detailed report ASAP!"


I don't know why I thought I would have to return to the school to see him again. I guess I should have assumed he could pop in any old time he was ready, one of the advantages of being imaginary. Still after I got off the pay phone and crawled back in the Ford, I must have jumped a foot when he stuck his head in the window. "Hey Uncle Tom, could you buy me a Big Red?" He had that same cat ate the canary look on his face.