May The Path Rise Up To Meet Your Feet

May the Path Rise Up To Meet Your Feet
         
Labor Day weekend finally arrived, fortunately for Mr. Doherty’s sake, for he has no control over the calendar. Everything else under his control seems to fail him. For an Irishman, his luck had all but run out. He often said, “The luck of the Irish only keeps me alive and nothing more”. Not a bad trade-off some might say, but Mr. Doherty has not the ability to see the forest through the trees, he continues to torment himself on a never ending search for a true good-luck charm.
         He often blames his mother for his shortcomings after she confessed to smoking and casual drinking during her pregnancy with him. Mr. Doherty’s misfortune really started at birth, during a hard contraction the doctor accidentally cut the newborn Irishman on the head with a scalpel. A person might wonder, when do screwed up people start to go bad, or when did it all go wrong for a troubled person. In Mr. Doherty’s case he was stabbed in the head, bleeding, and received three stitches all before looking into his mother’s eyes for the first Tylere. To top it off, he missed a 4th of July birthday by one hour. If there ever was a person that fit the old saying – he was born late and has been loosing ground ever sense – Mr. Doherty sure fit the bill.

Six months ago Mr. Doherty lost his job, along with a few thousand other engineers working for Ford Motor Company, although, convinced his bad luck could be the only reason he was singled out.  For the past six months he could only find work in the various dirty old assembly plants in the bowels of Detroit. He jumped from one job to the next, hoping to find a company with a promising future. Fortunately his wife still had her job at Wayne State University although the state wide cutbacks were forcing massive staff reductions, which directly translated into higher stress levels for her at work.  Shortly after the cutbacks started at the university, around the Easter holiday she received a call from her younger brother Tyler in Atlanta. He had to ship out in a week and needed a family member to take care of his daughter, Hanna, for the summer because the Navy, in all of its infinite wisdom, already shipped out his wife last month. Apparently it does not pay for two ship’s captains to marry and try to raise a family in the Navy.
Of course the Doherty family pitched in to help their family member in need. The very next day 6-year-old Hanna arrived on the doorstep with a large ratty old book clutched in one hand and a very tired father behind her, holding two pieces of luggage.
“Hi Aunt Doireann, thank you for letting me stay with you and Uncle Abban. Do I get to sleep with Kayleigh or Shannon?” said Hanna, bouncing on her toes and flapping her arms in pure excitement.
“You’re welcome anytime honey. Why don’t you run up to Kayleigh’s room? Kayleigh and Shannon are upstairs making the bed for you,” said Doireann, bending over to brush the golden locks out of Hanna’s face.
“I can’t thank you two enough for looking after Hanna,” said Tyler, hunched over with eyes as red as the evening sun.
“No problem, please come in and rest or stay the night. You’re in no shape to drive,” said Doireann as she held the front door open and ushered in the weary travelers.
“Maybe just for a cup of coffee and then I must get back on the road. My ship is scheduled to leave in forty eight hours,” said Tyler, “Lisa’s ship is due in before I get back. She will pick up Hanna after Labor Day.”
         “Let me help you unload the rest of Hanna’s things from the car,” said Abban.
         “Oh, thanks, but this is everything she wanted to bring,” said Tyler.
         “No stuffed animals, toys or even a bike?” Mr. Doherty said, scratching his head.
         “Nope, nothing, other then that old book she found in a trash can back home.”
“Trash can?” said Abban with raised eyebrows.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell ya over that cup of coffee,” said Tyler as he nodded towards the kitchen table.
The girls played nicely together as Kayleigh and Shannon helped their cousin, who’s the same age as Kayleigh, settle into her new home away from home. Doireann had some time to rest and catch up on family gossip with her brother. Abban seized a moment to interject one of his woe-is-me stories about another demoralizing assembly plant job in Detroit. With a fresh pot of coffee in hand Doireann cuts her husband off in mid-sentence and says, “Okay, enough of the depressing talk about work. Let’s hear the story behind that ragged old book Hanna brought with her.”
Tyler eagerly holds his cup out with both hands while Doireann slowly fills it to the brim. He exhales into the cup sending up a wisp of vapor, takes a quick sip, and places the cup on the table.
“Well, to make a long story short, there has been a serial killer on the loose in Atlanta for the past month and Lisa and I were scarred to leave Hanna with neighbors or the Navy Boarding House on base. Lisa’s parents are out of the country on vacation. I didn’t know what to do, there were no other safe options. Well, the day before, Hanna and I were leaving the McDonalds in downtown Atlanta. I just didn’t have the energy to make dinner, so we ate out. We walked past the smoldering remains of the historic Atlanta theater when Hanna pulled that old book out of the trash can on the street corner. That’s when -”
“What is the title of the book?” said Doireann.
“Ah, I believe it’s a Gone With The Wind book,” Tyler said and shrugged his shoulders, “I was about to tell her to throw it back in the trash but that’s when Hanna asked me to call you guys. We started walking down the street, hand-in-hand, after you agreed to take Hanna in. You don’t know how relieved I felt after that, and Hanna clutched that old book all the way back home. She kept repeating how excited she was to stay with Kayleigh and Shannon and she wanted to show them what people threw in the trash, down in Atlanta.
Tyler left that night for his long drive back to Atlanta. Hanna was very strong for a 6 year old little girl, she kissed her father goodbye without any tears and wished him a safe drive while holding the old book in front of her like a child’s blanket.
         Somewhere between the first and second week of June the sweet beginnings of Hanna’s stay wore away, leaving the summer to drag on at a mercilessly slow pace.
         “I don’t want to go to summer school without my book.”
         “Hanna, we don’t have time to look for your book before school. You don’t need it – Kayleigh and Shannon are not bringing books to school,” said Doireann as she hurried around the house gathering three sets of lunches, backpacks, and sandals that match.
         The next few mornings started out the same with Doireann rushing to get three little girls dressed and ready for summer school before she started her daily grunge all the way into Detroit. Hanna always seemed to remember she didn’t have her book at the worst moment. That evening the pre-bedtime cadence included bath, pajamas, teeth-brushing and bed. The girls followed orders like perfect little soldiers until it came time to climb into bed. Out of nowhere Hanna starts whining.
         “Aunt Doireann, I want my book. It helps me dream about my Daddy.”
         “Now Hanna, you know we have a big day tomorrow and everyone must get to bed on time. Trust me, you will dream about your Daddy just fine without the book. We’ll look for the book tomorrow,” said Doireann.
         “No – no you won’t, you said that last night and the night before. I’m not going to bed without it.”
         “I don’t know what you did with the book, it’s your book.”
         “Shannon took it, I know it. She always wants to hold it.”
         “Don’t blame Shannon for something that’s your responsibility, she’s only four years old.”
Hanna drops to the floor screaming, kicking, and blaming Shannon for taking her book.
         “Hanna, get into bed right now before you get a spanking!” She quickly scurries under the bed to hide.
         “That’s it, get out from under there, NOW, I have had enough of this!”
The screaming quickly faded to sobs and then silence. Hanna crawled out from under the opposite side of the bed and stood up with a smile on her face. She clutched an old brown book in both hands in front of her and looked up at Doireann, teary eyes already clearing. Doireann wanted to take the book away from her as punishment for the bad behavior but she didn’t have enough energy left for another lesson that night.
         “I found it, I found it, now I can dream about Daddy.”
         “Wonderful, now you can apologize to Shannon tomorrow. Let’s get in bed.”
Hanna slipped the book under her pillow and fell fast asleep. When the girls were behaving and sharing alike the summer seemed to race by. Although, the blissfulness never lasted more then a two week stretch. Hanna kept the book under her pillow and as long as she knew where it was she behaved like a perfect little princess. She shared and played nicely with Kayleigh and Shannon, as if they lived together from day one. Best of all, Hanna obeyed every request from Doireann especially during the pre-bedtime drill. It’s amazing how fighting over the littlest things will wear a person down to their limit in a matter of minutes.
         Kayleigh and Shannon adore their cousin and Hanna is fully aware of her influence over them. Hanna has the personality and perseverance to get her own way. As the only child back home, she has had many years of perfecting this skill on her parents, with tremendous success. It has not been easy for Hanna to adopt, overnight, to the structured environment of the Doherty family.
         One hot July Saturday, Doireann’s supper mom façade started to fade fast. Her internal struggle with maintaining a professional career, while raising a family, is a never ending battle for an acceptable work-life balance. The fact that her boss, a person promoted beyond their capability, continues to make ridiculous demands on her time and the demanding needs of Hanna’s extended stay, only adds to the continuous mental trauma, which she finds often, is overwhelming.
         Doireann began to strip Hanna’s bedding when the heavy old book slid out from under the pillow and landed on her big toe. She winced in pain and was about to kick the book under the bed with her other foot when a calming realization washed over her. With a deep breath, she bent over and picked up the book. Memories of her mother taking her to the library consumed her. She sat on the side of the bed recalling how wonderful she felt during the special time spent with her mother at the library. Together, they would search for books to check out on ice skating. They made the library visits their special time together. Realizing that Hanna cherished the old book the same way Doireann cherished the memories of going to the library with her mother, Doireann decided to make a spot on the book shelves for the old book.
         Her past memories seemed to bring the present day back into focus. Doireann reminded herself to be strong, that Hanna’s summer visit will end after Labor Day weekend and that she is helping out family in a Tylere of need. Just then her she is startled by Abban, who apparently had been standing in the doorway to the bedroom, mouth moving but nothing coming out. She looked at him, puzzled, and a little glassy eyed, before she tunned in to hear him.
         “Hey, you alright?” said Abban.
         “Ah – yes. What’s up?”
         “Well, what do you think about moving out of state, Houston Texas to be exact?”
         “Houston? I don’t know. That’s quite a distance from our parents and you know they’re going to need more attention as the years go on.”
         “Yes, I know but I can’t find a decent engineering job in Michigan. All the good opportunities are out of state. I’m not going to last much longer working in the assembly plants. I’ve got to get out of there.”
         Doireann just looked at Abban and shrugged her shoulders. They both knew there was nothing they could do to ease the immediate displeasure. They both had to work. Abban notices she is holding Hanna’s old book.
         “Is that the old book that’s causing all the commotion before bed?”
“I just found it under Hanna’s pillow and I wanted to make a spot for it on the bookshelf.”
“Why, let’s just get rid of it now that we have the chance. Here, let me,” Abban took hold of the book.
“No, let’s not throw it out. For some reason, Hanna really likes that old thing.”
Abban’s furrowed brow indicated he didn’t agree with the request but at the same time he remembered something his father always said, “Always choose your battles wisely.”
“Okay, I’ll stick it up high and maybe she’ll forget about it,” said Abban as he approached the book case. When he slid the book on the high shelf another thought came to him.
“Hey, why don’t we plan a camping trip for Labor Day weekend? I heard the KOA in Tawas is a very nice campground.”
“That’s sounds like a good get away, it’s not to far away and the girls go back to school shortly after.”
         

Labor Day morning arrived with Abban already up, dressed and waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing. Early dawn had always been his favorite moment of the day, birds are waking up, the cool air smells like damp pine needles, and only the serious campers are awake and quietly making their way to the showers. With a fresh cup of hot coffee Abban relaxes in his reclining chair, watching a fellow camper emerge from his pop-up tent. The tent bound camper is a tough breed. They must endure all the elements and accept all the noisy disturbances from animals or rude neighbors. Unlike the Doherty’s travel trailer with solid walls, windows that close and a climate controlled interior; the tent dweller only has a micro thin layer of nylon separating them from the elements.
The tent dweller reaches for the sky trying to work out the kinks in his back created from the earthen mattress. He yawns, scratches his head with both hands while nodding at Abban in a mock good-morning greeting. Abban raises his cup of coffee, offering a silent toast to the beginning of the day. Then a delectable aroma floated by, the mouth watering heavy scent of bacon frying in the morning air.
The tranquil morning soon gave way to the thumping of little feet in the camper. The girls were already awake and running around inside.
“Where’s daddy? A muffled voice called from inside. It had to be Shannon, she always asked the questions.
Abban set his coffee cup on the small folding table next to the recliner and was about to get up when he noticed that Hanna’s old book was sitting there. Well this is a stroke of luck he thought and he grabbed the book, quickly stashing it in the truck before Hanna noticed it. He then opened the door to the camper to offer another distraction.
“Good morning campers, is any one hungry for pancakes and bacon for breakfast?” Abban said, but the girls were already arguing over who was sitting in the others seat. Hanna started crying because Shannon grabbed a stuffed animal she had been sleeping with.
“That’s enough already! All of you sit down and watch TV while Uncle Abban makes breakfast,” Doireann said, while still curled up in bed.
“Right, then I’ll get breakfast started.” Abban quickly closed the door and stepped back into the tranquil silence of daybreak.
Long shadows striped the camper and shot across the ground. Bright yellow sun light started to crest the tall pines as the walking traffic to and from the showers increased. Abban had finished frying the bacon and started pouring large round circles of pancake batter on the hot griddle of his prized out door cooking stove. Abban thoroughly enjoyed cooking breakfast, especially when cooking outside. With the table set and hot pancakes waiting for butter he proudly flung the camper door open and announced, “Come and get it, while their hot.” He held the door open anticipating a rush of hungry campers but only crying and screaming greeted him.
“I didn’t do it, it was an accident. I saw Kayleigh do it,” screamed Hanna.
“It’s not my fault, Hanna made me do it,” cried Kayleigh.
“I don’t care who did it, your both in trouble. Your both old enough to know better,” said Doireann, her voice starting to crack.
“Now what’s the problem?” said Abban as he entered the camper and walked back to the crowd of girls staring at the bathroom. There was Doireann, still in her pajamas and elbow deep in the toilet, trying to fish out a small stuffed animal.
“What are you doing?” He said, “Breakfast is ready.”
“I didn’t do…sputtered Hanna.
“That’s enough out you young lady, go wash your hands for breakfast.” Doireann said while pointing the bent-up wire hanger she rigged as a hook.
Abban could see his wife’s blood pressure rising with her flushed cheeks and the tips of her ears turning red.
“Alright, alright…this can wait. Let’s get cleaned up for breakfast and eat while it’s still warm.
The girls slowly shuffled out the door, grumpy expressions, and none of them saying a word. They forcefully plopped themselves around the picnic table.
Abban was about fix his plate when the camp ground Honey Wagon drove by. He sprang from his seat and flagged down the driver.
“Hello, having a good morning?” said the cheerful driver.
“Ah, we have a bit of a problem with our black water tank. It’s full and I think it’s plugged,” said Abban.
“Well that’s no problem. For $10 I’ll have you all pumped out. There hasn’t been a plugged tank I couldn’t clear,” he said with a positive grin on his face, “You just sit back and enjoy your breakfast and I’ll have your tank empted in a minute.”
“Okay, thanks.” Abban went back the picnic table.
The Doherty family experienced about fifteen minutes of pleasant breakfast conversation until the gas engine on the Honey Wagon started up. The engine strained against an unknown force. The camp-ground attendant yells from the back side of the camper trailer, “Wow, this one seems to be plugged pretty good, but don’t worry, I’ll get’er done.”
At that moment the girls start screaming and pointing at the door to the camper. Blue water began cascading down the steps.
Abban jumped up and ran for the camper yelling back, “Stop, stop the pump. You’re flooding the inside.” He ran inside still yelling and witnessed a gurgling fountain of blue septic tank water, forcing its way over the rim of the toilet. The engine on the Honey Wagon was still running. Abban dove for an open window to yell at the attendant, who was talking to another camper.
“SHUT THE DAM PUMP OFF, YOU”RE FLOODING THE TRAILER!”
The startled attendant lunged for the kill switch and engine stopped. At the same moment the water level in the toilet receded. Abban stood in the middle of his own environmental hazard, watching the vile water flow across the floor and running down into the floor vents for the heater. Then he noticed a small matted blue cat, apparently the stuffed animal that caused this disaster. Abban clenched his fists and took one step towards the stuffed animal then kicked the soaking wet glob clear across the camper, just missing Doireann as she cautiously entered the camper. She glared at Abban with mouth gaping and wide eyes. She didn’t say a word and stepped aside as Abban stormed outside.
Overwhelmed with the chemical toilet overflow and the less then fulfilling breakfast, Mr. Doherty conjured up an excuse to drive into town, the Excursion needed gas. He climbed into the driver’s seat thinking about all the property for-sale signs they noticed earlier on the way through town. As he trolled through the center of the campground he couldn’t help but notice all the other campers, some sitting calmly sipping hot coffee while others flipped pancakes and bacon from camping stoves on to plates held by obedient children waiting their turn.
Four miles up the shore line road, a handmade sign caught his attention; For Sale – Charming little cottage on Lake Huron. “What the heck,” he mumbled to himself “Let’s start with what I can’t afford,” and turned on to a two track dirt drive. The large hulking SUV barely fit past the saplings and small trees lining the drive. The short wooded drive was dark and damp, then all of a sudden the SUV popped out of the wooded entrance into a soft green clearing. There, high on a grassy bluff, sat an exquisite example of an old log cabin design, facing the lake. Complete with high pitched roof gables, large overhangs with ornate brackets, and forest green shutters adorned each dormer window. A light trail of smoke drifted from the top of a sturdy fieldstone chimney.  The rich blue skyline shown through the front picture windows through to the back kitchen windows. Curtains danced in the wind currents with perfect timing to the waves lapping the shore line.
He paused, leaning on the steering wheel, taking in the ambiance. Visions of his wife and daughters running bare foot through the golden sand ran through head. Their summer dresses wet at the hem line from collecting shells.
“Maybe I’ll just take a closer look,” he said to himself. As he stepped out of the SUV a load of coloring books, crayons, and Hanna’s old book tumbled onto the ground. “That dam book,” he spouted and bent over to pick up the mess.
“Hello there. Are you here to tour the house?” said a faint shaky voice from the back porch of the cabin. He quickly stood up to see a frail woman, wrapped in a shawl, holding the back door open.
“Aaa, Hello, Yes – I would like to ask about the cabin for sale.” He started to toss the coloring books and crayons back in through the windows.
“Oh, good, please come right in. I’ll show you around,” the elderly home owner said.
Mr. Doherty’s heart started to race, all he could think of was all the fond family memories a whimsical little cottage on the lake could create over the years. He walked up to the back door and introduced himself. The home owner gave him a grand tour, every room included a story of how her kids and their kids came up to the cabin every summer to sleep in the hammock and swim the day away. During the whole visit he never realized he still had the old book in his hand.
“Pardon me for asking sir, did you find that old book at the O’Connor’s antique shop in town?” as she peered at the embossed letters on the spine, “Oh my, that is an old story.”
“This nasty old thing? No, my niece brought it with her on our camping trip this weekend. We’re staying at the KOA just south of here.”
“You’re traveling with your family this labor day weekend?” she asked with unusual enthusiasm.
“Yes, but I have taken too much of your time. I would like to look in the basement before I go, if I could?”
“Please, be my guest. The cellar door is under the staircase. Why don’t you leave your book on the table here? You’ll want to use both hand rails. The steps are very steep, too dangerous for me these days.”
After inspecting the spotless cellar and noticing the upgraded utilities, he returned to the first floor. They talked about the price and as he feared, the asking price was way out his reach. He noticed the lady had picked up the old book and started to thumb through the pages. She walked over to a rocking chair by the fireplace and carefully sat down, then started to read the book. Mr. Doherty was a bit taken back by her apparent move to take the old book but he didn’t care. He was glad to get rid of the book; if she wanted to keep it she could have it. Hanna would forget about it eventually.
“Well thank you for the tour and you can keep that old book, I’m sure it won’t be missed,” he said and turned for the back door.
“You’re very kind. Why don’t you come back tomorrow with your family. I’m sure they would like to take a tour as well,” she said and turned another page in the book.
Abban returns the next day with family in tow, kids arguing, Hanna crying, wife stressed out. Not a very good introduction although the little old lady is not phased by the drama, she proudly presents them with an amazing offer on one condition.
“I don’t need the money from the sale of this cabin; I can’t take it with me in the end. I’ll sell you this property for half the listed price under one condition, you must agree to honor the past memories and rich history of this log cabin by keeping its name alive.”
“Keeping its name alive? What do you mean?” said Abban.
“What’s the name?” asked Hanna.
The old lady moved surprisingly graceful as she knelt down in front of Hanna and handed her the book. Abban wondered how she knew the book belonged to Hanna.  She gazed long into Hanna’s eyes then said,
“I think you knew the name as soon as your came inside.”
Hanna blushed and bowed her head then said something too soft to hear. Everyone stepped closer to hear.
The old lady took Hanna by the hand, “Go on, say the name so everyone can hear.”
“Tara, the cabin’s name is Tara, just like the house in my book,” said Hanna, grinning from ear to ear.
“Your right, of course your right. This old cabin has been around longer then me and every owner has called it Tara,” said the old lady as she sprang to her feet.
“Wow, Hanna? How did you know that?” said Abban.
“Oh, don’t worry about that now.” said the old lady, “Tell me – do we have a deal?”
Abban looked at Doireann, they both smiled and shrugged their shoulders together.
“Yes, we have deal,” said Abban.
The girls jumped up and down with screams of joy. Abban gave Doireann a big hug and a kiss. The little old lady stood a little taller and she danced in a circle holding the girls hands. All attitudes instantly improve.

Abban turned the big SUV around and carefully navigated the dark narrow two track driveway back to the main road. He stopped and pointed out the window at a square stone structure covered in moss, vines, and thick underbrush.
“Look, there’s the cabin sign post. I didn’t notice it till now.”
The words, TARA and established 1909 were barley visible on the tarnished bronze nameplate. That’s the first thing I’ll restore, thought Abban and he pulled out in to the bright afternoon sun.
Hanna had a turn of heart after the old lady returned her book. It’s not clear why she did what she did but apparently she thought the offer might help someone else. During the drive home from the real-estate office they stopped for gas at a little run down station just outside of Tawas. There was only one other car parked, just shy of the pumps, a dusty maroon Gallant that apparently ran out of gas. Mr. Doherty quickly sized up the situation after noticing the young woman leaning against the back of the car, holding a baby in one arm, and franticly puffing on a cigarette in the other. Hanna leaned out the back seat window, staring in amazement at the young woman and baby. Everyone stared at the reckless sight as Mr. Doherty pulled up to the opposite side of the pumps. The gravel cracked and popped under the weight of the Excursion’s tires as the massive SUV slowed to a stop. At that moment a whiff of cigarette smoke drifted in through the windows.
“What is her problem?” said Doireann, “Doesn’t she know how dangerous smoking around infants can be?”
“You mean, doesn’t she know how dangerous smoking around GAS pumps can be?” said Abban.
“Excuse me, Sir?” the young woman said as she waved her cigarette hand in the air at the nice looking family in the SUV.
“Oh great, here she comes,” mumbled Abban while watching her in the side mirrors; stumbling around on the gravel road in her bare feet.
The kids unbuckled their seatbelts and all crowded in the window on Hanna’s side of the SUV, she didn’t even whine about the intrusion. The spectacle unfolding just outside her window had her completely mesmerized.
Doireann leaned over the back of her seat to get a look at the approaching woman, “What does she want?”
“I’m sure it’s gas money. What else?” said Abban.
Mr. Doherty hated beggars. In typical Irish pride he never accepted handouts or tried to shame people into giving him money. He decided to jump out of the door and head her off before she became dangerously close to the pumps with her cigarette. Before he could take two steps towards the woman, Hanna thrust her old book out the window with both hands.
“Uncle Abban, here, please give them my book,” Hanna pleaded.
Mr. Doherty could not believe what Hanna just said and without asking why he seized the moment to unload the troubling artifact on the unsuspecting woman and her baby. He grabbed the book and quickly walked towards the woman causing her to stop before reaching the pumps.
“What’s daddy saying to that lady?” said Kayleigh.
“I’m guessing he’s telling her there’s no smoking near the pumps,” said Doireann. She watched her husband point towards the gas pumps and at that moment the woman flicked the cigarette in the opposite direction and blew a puff of smoke straight up. Then of all things, Mr. Doherty reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He then placed several bills in the front cover of the old book and handed it to the woman. The baby reached out first for the book but then the woman snatched it away. Mr. Doherty turned quickly and headed back to the SUV, climbed inside and started the engine.
“What did she say? What did you say to her?” said Doireann.
“She wanted gas money to get back to Detroit,” said Abban, “I gave her what I had and offered the traveler’s blessing; “May the path rise up to meet your feet.” She just gave me a blank stare, only the baby seemed to understand.”
The kids jumped back in their seats and buckled up. The Doherty family drove home without further incident. As for the irresponsible woman, he could only hope that, that old book would bring her some good luck.