Come Clean - part 1 Second Song of the Kylie Warren Saga

Come Clean
2nd Song of the Kylie Warren Saga
By Jennifer Sue

*****
Come Clean - part 1
2nd Song of the Kylie Warren Saga

Let's go back
Back to the beginning
Back to when the earth, the sun, the stars all aligned
'Cause perfect didn't feel so perfect
Trying to fit a square into a circle
Was no life
I defy
( Hillary Duff)
*****

“Damn that kid can run,” Keith Davis praised the ferocious scrawny running back as he once more outmaneuvered and outran the defense of the opposing team to score his third touchdown of the game. Then he looked to down the bleachers to where the band sat. The sight of his son reading a book he must have smuggled under his uniform made him sigh. The boy was simply hopeless at sports.

Heath Davis was so engrossed in his book he missed the cue to stand and play the school fight song to celebrate the touchdown. The Laurie Adams, the girl sitting beside him, kicked his leg. Startled, Heath looked up and realized what was happening. Hurriedly he put his book on the bleacher seat and picked up his flute. Before he was able to stand up, the band director started the rousing tune. Fortunately, Heath was a superb flutist and was able to jump right in without missing a beat as he struggled to his feet.

Keith shook his head. The boy was simply socially inept and he wondered what he could have done differently to encourage his reticent son to show at least a little interest in sports. Taking Heath out for kiddie soccer when he was four was an absolute disaster. When the coach taught dribbling, Heath kept tripping over the ball. As if that wasn’t bad enough, every tumble brought tears. When it came time to really kick the ball, the clumsy boy ran forward and instead of kicking the ball he missed and tripped himself. When they scrimmaged, Heath screamed and ran off the field as a determined girl charged him and even then he tripped over his own feet and fell. The coach did his best to encourage Heath. Keith worked with him at home and he managed to learn the basic skills, but it didn’t help when he was out on the playing field with other kids. There he was as inept as ever. It was almost like he was afraid and went into panic mode. Heath wanted to quit but was made to stay on the team for the season. Heath ended up as team helper, getting the players drinks or tissues and otherwise helping but did not play.

T-ball was equally disastrous. Again Keith worked with his son to each the basic skills and he did okay at home. But once Heath was on the playing field with his teammates, he never reached even a mediocre level of competency. The pattern repeated itself, Heath did okay when it was only the two of them, but as soon as he was around others, he fell apart. This really frustrated Keith. No amount of practice ever helped. Heath’s main problem was fear of people. What really frustrated the unhappy father was that Heath was honestly trying his best but the boy’s fears simply overwhelmed him. Of course that knowledge also tempered the frustration so while he continually encouraged Heath, he didn’t yell at him. By the time Heath finished kindergarten, Keith gave up trying to get his son involved in sports.

Lost in his revery, Keith almost missed the successful kick for the extra point. As the squads changed, he noted Heath diligently playing his flute with the band. Now in seventh grade, the first year of junior high, the band director had selected Heath to be first flute. While Keith was proud that his son was so accomplished as a musician, he was silently embarrassed that Heath selected the flute as his instrument.

The opposing team was trying to move the ball but the impressive defense kept them in check. Glancing at the sidelines, most of the offensive line was gathered around the assistant coach as he spoke to the quarterback. All the players had removed their helmets. The only player not in the group was the kid who made all the touchdowns. Still wearing his helmet, he sat unmoving on the bench with his back toward the field while staring into space at nothing. With 20 seconds to go till the game was over, ball possession swapped. The quarterback had to go over and tap the running back on the helmet to snap him out of his reverie. The kid simply got up and ran to his position on the field avoiding the huddle. Keith knew that was extremely unusual and wondered if the kid was some sort of football playing savant. The play started and once more the small intense boy ran a long pattern and seemed to easily snag what appeared to be an un-catchable pass to run it in for another touch down. Keith cheered as the band struck up another rousing tune. The kid was simply amazing. The home team won and the players swarmed the quarter back. Keith thought it strange that no one on the team was slapping the guy that made all the touchdowns on the back. Then he noted the kid was already headed for the locker room while his teammates celebrated out on the field.

Waiting a bit before heading to the parking lot, Keith watched the players still celebrating. Once the initial swarm of exiting people slowed, he headed for his vehicle. “Heath, I know you’re not interested in sports.” Keith said when Heath arrived from the band room and climbed into the truck. “But it’s rude to read a book while the game is going on.”

“I’m sorry,” Heath muttered ashamed he’d been caught, not for doing it.

“Okay, sport,” Keith smiled. “Say, who is that little guy that scored all the touchdowns?”

“That’s Kyle Warren,” Heath replied. “He’s in my fifth period class but he’s really weird.”

After what he'd seen on the field, Keith was not surprised. “He’s only in the seventh grade?”

“Yeah,” Heath replied. “His older brother DJ is the quarter back.”

“He’s good too,” Keith said now understanding big brother taking care of little brother with that tap on the helmet. “The other guys on the team swarmed him after the game but Kyle was already heading back to locker room.”

“Yeah, that’s Kyle,” Heath said. “He makes the winning touch down as time runs out and he just turns and heads to the locker room without even stopping. In our class the teacher gave up calling on him because he only gives blunt one or two word answers. But he and I are the only one’s who’ve gotten a hundred percent on every test. He never smiles or laughs and just ignores everyone. It’s like he’s really angry all the time and just wants to be left alone. We’ve been in most of the same classes throughout elementary school and he’s been like that since kindergarten.”

“Well, he’s the toughest kid I ever saw,” Keith stated. “He took quite a few hard hits and they seemed to never hurt him. I don’t know of any pro players who could shake off hits like he took.”

“I’m sorry, dad,” Heath sniffed.

Surprised by the teary apology Heath asked, “What for?”

“Because I’m not good at sports,” Heath sniffled. “I know you’re embarrassed that I play the flute and I’m certainly not tough. Just look at me. I’ve never lived up to your expectations.”

“Heath, it doesn’t matter,” Keith tried to soothe the quietly sobbing boy. “You are my son and I’m proud of you. You made first flute in the band, get good grades, do your chores, and are respectful and polite.”

Heath stifled his tears and nodded his head. Despite his dad’s reassurance, he knew he didn’t live up to his dad’s expectations.

The rest of the ride home was done in silence. The father and son were brooding about the insensitive voiced admiration of Kyle.

*****

As soon as Heath entered the kitchen, Linda knew he’d been crying again. He simply nodded at his mom and headed off to his bedroom. What happened this time? The hangdog look on Keith’s face as he came in told her he’d inadvertently set off the tears.

“I’ve got to learn to keep my mouth shut,” Keith sighed. “There’s this kid on the football team who’s in seventh grade who’s about Heath’s size. I never saw anyone play like he did. He scored four touchdowns and took hits that would have laid out pros. The kid would just get up and walk off the blows. I asked Heath about him and they’ve been classmates since kindergarten and this year share their fifth period class. Heath felt guilty because he isn’t as athletic or tough. I told him I was proud of him but I’d already set off the water works.”

“He’s been breaking down in tears more and more since he started seventh grade,” Linda sighed. “Whenever I try to find out what’s wrong he starts crying. I wonder if we should take him to a psychologist?”

“We need to talk to him first,” Keith advised. “Don’t mention anything until we’ve finished supper otherwise he’ll break down and not finish supper.”

*****

Up in his bedroom Heath was lying in his bed looking up at the ceiling as his memories of disappointing his parents filled him with sadness. Heath blinked back tears as he sighed in frustration while rolling things over in his mind. The degrading attempts to play soccer and T-ball before he'd even started school. The humiliation he'd endured still grated on his psyche. Learning the basics of a sport wasn't an issue, but facing others on the playing field was a different story. It was like his mind simply froze up. When that happened, fear of looking like a fool sent him into a panic.

Kindergarten set the pace for his elementary years. Walking into the classroom he almost turned and ran. The teacher came to him and took his trembling hand to keep him from bolting. His lower lip had been quivering and tears formed in his eyes as he saw all the other kids. The first day there were kids who'd been on the teams he'd been on. Looking at the quaking boy they all recalled the wimpy boy who fell over his feet and ran screaming off the field. They quickly spread the word and several took great joy in intimidating the already shy boy. Several times a day he'd break down in tears. At least once a month up until fourth grade the bullies scared him so badly he wet his pants. Naturally this just increased the teasing and humiliation. The playground was just like the sports fields. The mere presence of the other students made him go into panic mode.

Since he was so wimpy, teasing was the only thing the guys wanted to do with him. For his own safety in kindergarten he gravitated away from the boys and toward the girls. But when faced with more than three girls, he once more felt fear engulf him until even the girls didn't want him to join their activities. Quite a few girls also began teasing him. The epithet 'sissy' was thrown at him at least twenty times a day. Naturally, these issues isolated him from his classmates. Usually he spent recesses actively avoiding the other students while staying in sight of the playground monitor. One benefit of always being on the look-out was he became quite observant. This allowed him to note people's moods and anticipate who was a danger. Since he was not distracted from learning by friends and play with quite literally nothing else to do but study, he excelled academically.

*****

As Heath recalled the first two days of seventh grade were not too bad. The kids who had taken pleasure in teasing him were too busy trying to fit in to be bothered with him. Even with that, it took a major effort to keep from having a panic attack every time he was surrounded by the mass of students in the halls during class changes. Heath did his best to anonymously blend in. With his ability of acute observation he noted other kids who seemed to be trying to remain anonymous. Lunch was quite intimidating. The students quickly split into cliques and occupied tables with their new friends. By default, the losers drifted to the only open table, the one nearest the cafeteria monitor, to sit. Although the boys seated at the ‘dork’ table were all reticent, by the end of the meal, except for Kyle Warren, they began talking.

Unfortunately, his hopes for being left alone and having a quiet year vaporized the third day during his first phys-ed class which was simply an orientation session of the phys-ed department and locker room as well as to assign lockers. The mere idea of stripping naked and taking a shower with other guys made him shiver in dread. As the teacher began walking through the locker room assigning lockers, Heath was pale and perspiring heavily. Having to change in front of other boys unnerved him. By the time they reached what was to be his locker, Heath was hyperventilating and nearly passed out.

The teacher realized Heath was not feeling well and had him sit on a bench. All this did was to focus everyone’s attention on him. Despite his best efforts, Heath’s fears were realized as he began crying. This blew his anonymity and the guys in the class who knew him from elementary school quickly spread the word about the uber-sissy.

By lunch the next day, the end of the first week of school, even the other losers had heard about the misadventure in phys-ed. They really had no choice but to allow Heath to sit at their table as they were too timid to actually try to keep him away. But their silent rejection was quite evident to Heath so he took the seat no one wanted... sitting at the far end of their table across from the ever morose silent Kyle. The other outcasts purposely excluded Heath from their conversation as they didn't want to take any chances his notoriety might paint bulls eyes on them.

Sitting across from Kyle was unnerving as the stony faced dour boy never in any way acknowledged there was anyone near him much less in the room. Kyle's intense gaze stayed riveted to his tray until he was finished, then he stood and took his tray to the collection site and left. With his accentuated perception, Heath could see the barely controlled anger inside Kyle. Heath realized Kyle was like a completely compressed heavy steel coil spring that could explode at any time. Being near Kyle so unnerved Heath he shivered with barely controlled fear.

The only place Heath found a tiny bit of acceptance was in the band. He'd been appointed first flute by the end of the second week. The other flutists were all girls and although Laurie Adams, a ninth grade girl, had hoped to become first flute, she humbly realized Heath's ability to play far outclassed her.

*****

That memory sent his reverie off in a different direction. Although Heath knew his father had been opposed to him becoming a flutist, Heath uncharacteristically persevered and was rewarded with reluctant approval. Heath knew he wanted to play the flute as soon as he saw James Galway perform on TV during the Capital Fourth of July Performance in 2000. The haunting lilting music spoke to his soul. As soon as the show was over, Heath scurried to his room and dug out the flutophone he'd had to buy for music class in first grade. It hadn't taken him long to master the plastic instrument. When he got the flute in fourth grade, he practiced as much as he could. Within two months, he blasted through the lessons the music teacher had that lasted other students through the sixth grade.

The first elementary school band rehearsal had Heath trembling as he took his assigned seat in the crowded music room. Nervously he caressed and stroked his beloved flute which greatly calmed him. Once he began playing, he quickly lost himself in the music. At the Christmas concert, he was the only flutist and fourth grader to be given a solo. His skill and aptitude were so overwhelming everyone had to admit he was excellent.

Since that time he'd steadily soared in his ability and was on track to approach his idol's expertise. Inspired by James Galway's use of the recorder, when he was in fifth grade, Heath asked for two Dolmetsch Pearwood recorders, a left-handed alto(treble) and a right handed descant(soprano), for Christmas. Heath knew he'd surprised his parents since he seldom requested anything for Christmas except books. If truth be told, Heath usually dreaded occasions when he would get gifts like Christmas or his birthday. No matter how hard they tried, he knew his parents had grown frustrated trying to find toys he would like. Toys that would have made most boys happy were politely acknowledged and perfunctorily played with as they watched but then put in his room never to be touched again. But Christmas 2002 was different as they bought him the expensive matching set of hand polished wooden recorders with a velvet lined case.

Just as he'd done with the flute, Heath practiced the recorders and quickly mastered them. Then, like his hero, he tried playing two recorders at the same time. This took a great deal of practice, but since he really had few other interests, he learned to do it and in the process became quite ambidextrous. What was even more difficult was to simultaneous play melody on one recorder while he accompanied himself on the other. This took hundreds of hours of effort but he succeeded. Although he had mastered the technique, he had yet to share his accomplishment with anyone. Naturally playing the flute was his primary pastime.

Thinking of the flute always snapped him out of his despondent musings. Rising from the bed, he opened his flute case and began to play some Irish folk music. In seconds, he was lost in the music.

*****

Hearing the moving melodies waft through the house told Keith and Linda that Heath was coping with his sadness in the only way he knew. Linda had to go upstairs to tell Heath to come down for supper. The boy nodded his head and continued playing. His parents had learned that when he was deeply engrossed in his music, he had to finish the piece before doing whatever they told him.

As usual, Keith and Linda discussed items of interest with Kathy, their daughter who was a year younger than Heath, as they ate. 0ccasionally they were able to draw Heath into their conversation but that was difficult to do. After the meal was finished, Heath stood and prepared to take the dirty dishes and wash them, one of his chores.

"The dishes can wait, Heath," Keith stated.

Heath looked at his dad, then his mom, and finally his sister. With a forlorn sigh he resumed his seat knowing it was time for another talk. Like normal, he hung his head and waited. Even though he tried his best, tears formed in the corner of his eyes.

"Heath, you're not in trouble," Linda soothed. "We're concerned about how easily you cry. You have to admit you cry with little provocation and it's not normal or healthy. We're not saying you can't cry, as it can be beneficial, but you've gone overboard. We need to figure out why you're so teary and what we can do to help stop them, or at least decrease the frequency."

Heath nodded his head understanding their concern was quite justified. If truth be told, he was quite tired and frustrated by his ease evoking tears.

"Heath, if you can't talk to us so we can work this out together as a family, we're going to have to take you to a shrink," Keith declared after several moments of silence.

Heath jerked his head upright and stared at his parents with his mouth open wide in shock. A quick glance to his sister showed she was just as surprised. Tears began to freely flowed down his cheeks. "You think I'm crazy," he sniffled the ponderous diagnosis.

"No, we know you're not crazy," Linda assured him. "But it's not healthy to react like you do. Do your friends at school cry a lot?"

Heath's hands clenched the edge of the table and he screwed his eyes shut while bowing his head, clearly struggling not to burst into a full crying jag. As he struggled for control he waited for his dad to tell him to pull it together and be a man but no one spoke. After a few minutes of silent crying he took several deep breaths to steady himself. Embarrassed, he slowly opened his eyes and raised his head to look at his family. Their faces showed their concern, not anger. Heath desperately wanted to run to his room and grab his flute. After fighting down that urge, he took another deep breath.

"I... I don't have any friends," Heath finally whispered.

"You don't have any friends," Keith repeated in obvious surprise. "What about your classmates? Who do you sit with at lunch? Surely you must have some friends!"

"That's the problem," Heath sobbed as he looked hopelessly at his parents. "I... don't... have... any... friends! The only thing most of my classmates want to do with me is to tease or bully me, the rest avoid me so the bullies won’t go after them. At lunch I sit at the table with the other losers, but since I broke down in tears in my first gym class I’m clearly the worst of the group. Even they won't talk to me because they're afraid some bully might target them instead of me." With that said the sobbing boy buried his face in his folded arms and cried piteously.

Linda and Keith were stunned but Kathy merely nodded her head in agreement with Heath’s self assessment. They were aware Heath had few friends in elementary school and was subject to a lot of teasing and bullying. In fact, he’d never visited a classmate nor had any visited him. They had hoped things would improve when he reached junior high but apparently it became worse. Linda looked to Keith and he nodded. Linda scooted her chair next to Heath and pulled him into a protective hug as he cried.

It took ten minutes for Heath to cry himself out but he still snuggled into his mother's embrace. "Is dad mad at me?"

"Ask him yourself, he's still right here," Linda replied as she stroked Heath's hair.

Hesitantly Heath peeked over at his dad. What he saw was a look of loving compassion mixed with frustration. "Dad, I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment," Heath sniffled. "I don't know why I cry so easily. I'm just so scared I lose control. But the worst part is that I don't even know what's scaring me! I feel like a square peg someone is trying to hammer into a round hole and I feel the pain in all four corners and on the top where I'm being hit."

"First of all, you are not a disappointment," Keith firmly stated. "Sure, I'd have liked for you to be good at sports, but it's simply not you. You gave it all you had when I asked you to play and that was enough for me. I don't hold it against you. You have no idea how proud I am of you and Kathy! I hear the other guys at work complaining about their lazy kids. They won't do any chores, don't do their homework, get C's and D's on their report cards, talk back, and get into all sorts of trouble. Compared to them, you're both perfect!"

Kathy appreciated being included in the compliment. Even though she was Heath’s little sister, in many ways she looked out for him and had intervened many times when a few girls decided to tease Heath. Not that she’d ever had to become physical, but she had a sharp wit and a tongue to match.

"Well, this perfect doesn't feel so perfect," Heath sighed.

"What your father is trying to say is you've been a wonderful cooperative child since you were born," Linda added. "You do what you're told without complaining, you have wonderful manners, are great in school, and never get into trouble. We love you as you are and don't want you to change."

"At the game this afternoon I admired the way Kyle Warren played," Keith said. "I admire the way a lot of professional players play too. That does not mean I want you to be the same. I was simply admiring his talent. On the field he was dynamite. Off the field... he sat on the bench with his back towards the field staring off to who knows where. Then after scoring his fourth touchdown as the game ended, he doesn't stop in the endzone but turns and heads into the locker room while his teammates swarm his brother the quarter back! Now that kid has problems!"

"Yeah," Heath nodded. "We sit across from each other at the end of the loser's table for lunch. I tried talking to him but he never even acknowledges me. But then I've never seen him talk to anybody. What I was told before I was ostracized was that no one could remember seeing him smile, cry, laugh, or get angry. He's almost like an android with no emotions. But he's smart, get's straight A's"

“Yeah,” Kathy agreed. “Even though he’s never bothered anyone, his behavior just creeps everyone out.

"Well, that fits with what I saw," Keith agreed. "That kid is profoundly morose and it's probably only his good grades that keeps him from attracting the attention of the school shrinks.

"So what are we going to do about you, young man?" Linda smiled as she looked at her son.

"I guess I'm not as bad off as I thought," Heath nodded. "Kyle is a lot worse off than I am. But that still doesn't help me. I don't know why I'm like this. I just don't feel right and I'm sad and afraid most of the time. The only thing that helps is my music."

Keith looked concerned. "What do you mean by you don't feel right?"

"I'm not sure," Heath answered. "It's like I said, I feel like a square peg being jammed into a round hole. I just don't fit in! And it's not just recently, I've felt that way as long as I can remember, all the way back to the beginning! I’ve never really had a life. I was too afraid to say anything because I couldn't explain myself. Heck, I still can't. All I know is that I don't feel right and it makes me afraid. I can't remember not being afraid."

"Well, it seems we have two choices," Keith chuckled obviously trying to lighten the mood. "First, we can try to trim the corners off your square peg or we can mortise corners in the round hole so you'll fit."

"That sounds great," Linda smiled. "But I love Heath as he is and would never try to trim any corners off him. So do we need to get the earth, the moon and the stars all aligned to mortise corners on the round hole?"

“To be honest, I don’t really know,” Keith replied more soberly. “Heath, your mom and I are here for you. Please don’t ever be afraid to talk to us. Together, we’ll get through this.”

“I’m here for you too, bro,” Kathy nodded her assurance

“Thanks,” Heath sniffed while managing a weak smile. “I just wish I had some idea of why I’m so scared of things. I think if I can get past my fears, I’ll be okay.”

“That’s a start,” Keith nodded. “Why don’t we start with what you’re not afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of music,” Heath said after a few moments of deep thought. “Playing the flute and recorders is just about the only thing that really makes me feel okay.”

“Okay, that’s a start,” Linda smiled. “Now let’s think about why you like music.”

"I never really thought about it," Heath admitted. "But when I saw James Galway play, his music just seemed to speak to me in here." Heath tapped his chest.

"I remember the night you first saw him," Linda said. "He was a guest soloist with the National Symphony Orchestra and helped celebrate the first Independence Day of the century. We watched on a live PBS special, 'A Capital Fourth'. His music really got to me to and obviously you too."

"That's the one they broadcast live from the West Lawn of the Capitol,” Keith said as he tried to think back that far. "It was on July the 4th, 2000."

"When it was over you ran to your room and dug out the flutophone we had to get you for school," Linda smiled as she looked at her son. "You started playing the songs they'd taught you in school."

"I remember that night," Keith chuckled. "I had to take the thing away from you so we could get some sleep."

"I cried myself to sleep because I thought you were going to throw it away," Heath admitted. "I was surprised to see it by my breakfast the next morning."

"You've been pretty good about stopping to play when we tell you since then," Keith reminded him. "But why must you finish the song you're playing?"

"It eats at me until I can finish it," Heath replied. "It's like taking a bite of a cake and being told to not chew it for an hour. It's impossible. Besides, you're the one that always said finish what you start. You made me do it with soccer and T-ball."

"You got me on that one," Keith smiled.

"The school taught you the basics but you really taught yourself to play the flutophone," Linda declared. "Even though you played beautifully, the sound that cheap plastic put out sometimes got to me. I'll admit there were times I wanted to beg you to stop because I got sick of it, but I knew you were really into it and it made you happy. That has not been an issue with the flute or recorders as their tonal qualities are really superb and mellow."

"You made that little toy play tunes I'd thought were impossible to play on it," Keith added. "Then in the fourth grade when you came home telling us you wanted to play the flute I almost lost it. Fortunately your mother cut me off before I put my foot in my mouth."

"I know you think playing the flute is for sissies or girls," Heath admitted. "But James Galway isn’t a sissy. The sound of the flute and recorder just gets into every part of my body. It's like I become one with the music."

"Well, you're right about what I thought about boys playing the flute," Keith admitted. "But the big word there is 'thought'. You've shown me how wrong my thinking was. I always thought there was only one way for a man to be a good, solid person, but you've shown me how arrogant that thinking was. Now I understand there is more than one way to become a good person and I thank you for opening my macho clouded eyes. I'm proud you're my son."

"It's about time you told Heath how he's changed you and how you feel about him," Linda chided with a smile.

“Everyone loves to listen to you play,” Kathy added. “You’re so good I’ve never even tried to play anything because I don’t think I could even come close to being as good.”

“Kathy, you sing beautifully,” Heath replied with a bit of indignation. “You’ve got music ability. I’m sure you could play an instrument quite well if you’d try.”

“Thanks for the support, bro, but I’ve got enough going on with dancing and cheering,” Kathy smiled.

“Keith, we’ve bee blessed with two of the best kids in the world,” Linda beamed. "Well, I think we've given each other a lot to think about so I suggest we give it a rest, think about things, and then discuss it again another day."

They all agreed that sounded like a good idea. Heath gathered the dishes and washed them while his parents and sister went into the living room to watch TV. Heath joined them for a bit before deciding to go to bed.

Even though he was tired from the days activities, he discovered his mind wasn't ready to sleep. It was dwelling on the conversation he'd had with his parents. Why did the flute and recorder touch his soul? Played gently they could play light hearted airy tunes that were relaxing and calming. Played intensely it could stir the soul as in some of Sousa's marches. Combinations could be haunting. It could be playful or enchanting. The music of the Flute and recorders could evoke a wide range of emotions. Heath finally decided he liked the flute and recorders for all the emotions it could invoke and instill into the listener and player. Finally he nodded off to sleep.

*****

The next morning, Saturday, was bright, sunny and warm. While chowing down on a light breakfast, Heath looked at his parents. “It looks like it’ going to be a really nice day and it might be the last warm day of the season. Is it okay if I spend the day in the woods?”

“Sure,” Keith answered before Linda could voice any objections. He was glad his son liked being in the woods. It was at least a somewhat masculine activity.

Linda sighed, knowing she couldn’t object at this point. “Make sure you take your cell phone and keep it on. You can call us if you need help.”

“Okay, mom,” Heath agreed knowing she was more concerned that the phones GPS locator could be used if he was hurt and unable to call.

“Mom,” Kathy quickly added. “Is it all right if I go over to Bobby’s to practice our dance routines?”

“Sure,” Linda smiled thinking it was cute she had a crush on the boy. She wasn’t worried since she knew Margie Dawson would keep things platonic.

Carefully Heath packed some drinks and snacks into his backpack along with his flute and recorders, slipped on a jacket and headed out the back door, across the back yard, and into the forest behind his home. The forest was all that remained of the vast forests that covered the area before the pioneers settled here. It was in a slight valley with a stream meandering through it. The reason it was never developed was that it was close to the river and flooded at least twice a year. The floods were never deep and rushing, being more a backwater muddy lake, and had never flowed past the tree line. Heath loved being in the still virgin woods. It was beautiful and serene, removed from the rush and complexity of life. The birds chirping and flitting about the branches was relaxing. The scampering of squirrels and chipmunks was comical.

After a five minute walk into the forest, he reached the slow meandering stream. The creek averaged about two to three inches deep and bout five feet wide, although some areas were deeper while others were wider. There was a huge old oak tree by the creek that Heath loved. Heath had used a piece of string to measure the tree’s girth about four feet above the roots. It measured a bit over 16 feet in circumference which meant it was a bit over five feet in diameter. Although wounded, the hearty old tree had withstood the ravages of the stream and storms. It was obvious that years before the stream had attacked sturdy oak, washing the soil from it’s roots until it stood on hundreds of finger-like roots. The attack had been so intense that over the years the stream had changed course. The remnant of the old stream bed was clearly evident on the south side of the majestic oak while it now ran on the north side. The stream had shifted course moving beneath the tree. At some point during the assault, probably during a storm, the oak shifted as the roots sagged due to the wind thrusting into the leafy boughs. The tree leaned to a forty five degree and would have crashed to the ground except two of it’s mighty branches touched ground and held the trunk up. The eighteen inch diameter one that took the brunt of the toppling had splintered and pushed deeply into the earth and now seemed to have sprouted roots of it’s own. While it bore the majority of the weight, a second big branch touching the ground stabilized the massive oak. The sturdy limbs that held up the tree were just two of five large branches that had sprouted from the trunk within five feet of each other many years ago. Each headed off in a different direction and now formed a comfy nest like crotch. The battered oak now formed a bridge over the stream that had sought to cut it down.

New branches sprouted from the top side of the trunk reaching for sunlight. These branches, now two to three inches in diameter, formed easily accessible hand holds and supports that Heath used to walk up the steeply leaning main trunk. The multi forking branches allowed him to lie down in the sun while shielding him from the wind. His private spot was about thirty feet up the trunk which put it about fifteen feet above the ground and directly above the stream. Although the height was very frightening, the immense bulk of the tree made him feel safe.

Once settled into the his cosy spot, he pulled out a recorder and began to play. The melodies wafted through the vibrantly fall colored leafy boughs. He began with a Celtic classic, ‘The Gypsy Rover’. While he played the bright happy tune the words sang in his mind.

The gypsy rover come over the hill,
Bound through the valley so shady;
He whistled and he sang,
Till the green woods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady.