Heavenly Hoboes

by Bob Brewer

Even as Abraham and Thomas ambled toward the Center, report of the heavenly occurrence fanned across town like a brushfire. Those who saw and felt God’s presence in the park were ecstatically circulating the word of the Lord’s visit. Hattie Scott was one of the persons doing the fanning. She rushed home to tell her husband, Ray, then got busy on the phone. Hattie knew a lot of people and the information she had to share with them couldn’t wait for morning. But the good news message she was trying to deliver was turning out to be more like a bombshell. “Gladys, this is Hattie. You’d better sit down…” “Irma Jean, this is Hattie. You’d better sit on the floor…” “Charlene, Hattie. Will your cord reach to the bed?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’ll tell you in a second. Just get on the bed, in the middle of it. Tell me when you’re there.”

  “Have you been drinking, Hattie?”

  “No. Are you on the bed yet?”

  “Okay. Now I am. What’s going on, Hattie?”

  “Charlene, I just told Gladys this and I think she fell off her chair, and Irma Jean is passed out I think.”

  “Hattie!”

  “Okay! Here goes. Charlene, God is in Midvale!”

  “Now, I know you’ve been drinking. You want me to come over?”

  “I mean it, Charlene. God is here! I saw Him tonight. And, Charlene, He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You know how they say you see a light when you die?”

  “Yeeess.”

  “Well, honey, you don’t have to die to see it. God is the light. He’s a glorious light. Every color you could ever imagine all wrapped together and still separate. Oh, Charlene, it’s so hard to explain, but this part you’ll understand. You know my bum knee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it’s not bum anymore!”

  “What?”

  “It’s perfect! I can walk as straight as you can!”

  “What?”

  “It’s just like I never got hurt. It’s perfect!”

  “…”

  “Charlene? Charlene?”

  Similar calls and visits were being made all over town, this time by emissaries whose statements were being heard in an entirely different light from that of the poor fellows who had tried the night before.

  By late afternoon of the next day a good percentage of the town’s folk had been informed by one version or the other of the remarkable heavenly visit. Some scoffed at the idea but many of them made their way to the park to see if any sign was left, and to gawk and to pray. With each passing hour as evening drew nearer more and more people showed up and began to congregate around the bandstand, hoping they weren’t too late to witness the miracle for themselves.

  Abe had spent the day holed up in the sleeping room with Captain Hedges’ bible while Shorty was out spending the money they collected the night before.

  As the little man wove his way through the spectators at seven-fifteen he looked every bit the part of a sawed-off gangster in his white suit, black shirt and wide-brimmed Panama hat. Earlier he had surprised Abe with a blue tweed suit that turned out to be too long in the legs but was passable when the cuffs were rolled up. He climbed the steps of the bandstand and joined Abe who was sitting on the circular bench watching the crowd grow. Horace, who had elected to sit with Abe, gave Shorty a grin. “Yer lookin’ a mite sporty yerself,” Shorty said to the old dog, and ran a hand under Horace’s new studded collar; a thick, black strap adorned with silver colored spikes; the kind one might see on a bad junkyard dog. “Fits like a glove, I’d say.” He patted Horace’s head then looked at Abe. “Do ya think He’ll be comin’ tonight?” he said, referring to the Lord.

  “I sure hope so,” said Abe, sounding a bit weary and nodding at the gathering horde. “That’s a lot of people, Mr. McDougal.”

  “A couple hundred at least,” the little man answered. He pointed unobtrusively at the crowd. “There’s a bunch of preachers out there, too. Did ya see ‘em?”

  Shorty was off on his estimation, there were over five hundred people in the park, but he was right about the clergy. The four ordained ministers didn’t try to hide who they were. Two of them wore their white, stiff collars and they all stood together impatiently thumping their thumbs against their bibles just behind the front row of ordinary people.

  “I see them,” Abe said, getting to his feet. “Maybe they need this, too.” It was seven-thirty. He walked out to the front of the bandstand and raised his hands. A calm settled over the camp. Abe took off his hat and laid it at his feet then looked to the heavens. The sky was rapidly becoming overcast with some heavier clouds pushing up to the west of them. “Please, Lord, no tornadoes,” he prayed, then lowered his eyes to the people below him. His sight fell on the innocent looking face of a young girl. She winked at him; he winked back, and then began. “Folks, I guess you’ve all heard that the Lord was here last night.”

  “Amen!” someone called.

  “Well, I don’t know if He’s coming back tonight or not. I hope He’s planning on it, but if He don’t, I just want you to know that He’s thinking about you. I used to wonder about that. You know, if there was a Lord. And if there was, did He really care about me and what I did? But I don’t have to worry about that anymore ‘cause now I know the truth.”

  “And the truth shall set you free!” a voice shouted.

  “Hallelujah!” another person added.

  Abe shook his head and held his hands up again to stop the spread of the emotional outpour. “No, no, no. I mean I really know the truth, not just something I read about or heard somewhere. You see I talked to the Lord and He talked to me. He knew my name was Abraham.” He paused and pointed to Shorty. “He knew Mr. McDougal’s name, too.”

  At that, one of the preachers laughed sarcastically starting a chain reaction among the other clergy.

  Abe singled them out and pointed a finger towards the group. “And that tells me that He knows each one of you, too. He knows you and He worries about you.”

  Having been put on the spot the ministers ceased their mock laughter, and Abe returned his gaze to the crowd. “He worries about all of us,” he continued. “That’s all I wanted to tell you. I didn’t come here to preach to you, but I guess I did a little.” He shrugged his shoulders and started to turn towards the steps. In that instant all the lights in the park died and a slight tremor shook the ground.

  Without a sound, an explosion of various colored lights streaked out from a central point and formed a cartwheel above the park. Its brilliance filled the sky and danced off the low hanging clouds for a full five seconds. It was as if a huge skyrocket had burst and failed to extinguish. Then it was gone, melted into nothingness, and the park lights switched back on.

  Awestruck and motionless the people stood for several long moments staring at the sky, then as one they moved. In absolute silence they moved, no shrieks, no screams, no shouts of joy, just pure silence as they filed past the clergy to the bandstand and laid money on the platform at Abe’s feet.

  Two minutes of this was all Reverend Atchinson could stand. He stepped forward and pushed open a path to the bandstand. The rest of the ministry followed his lead. “What kind of parody are you trying to pull off, here?” he asked in a raised voice to make sure everyone heard him. The people who were bringing up money backed off. Sensing that trouble was afoot, Shorty hurried over to stand by Abe. Horace squeezed in between them and stared curiously at the men on the ground

  The sudden assault by the minister took Abe by surprise. “What?” he returned innocently.

  “Don’t play dumb with us,” another clergyman spoke up. “You know exactly what Reverend Atchinson meant. Don’t think we didn’t see that wink when you started. That was telling one of your cohorts to get ready to set off the fireworks, wasn’t it?”

  “Fireworks?” Abe said, still confused by the accusations being thrown at him.

  “We felt the ground shake. Didn’t th
ink about that did you? Oh, you’re smart, but not that smart,” the preacher said haughtily.

  A third minister jumped in. “Just look what those poor souls have done,” he said, pointing to the pile of bills on the platform floor.

  Abe glanced at the sizable amount of money lying at his feet. “We didn’t ask them for it,” he said.

  “Oh, didn’t you? That’s your hat in the middle of it,” the preacher said, then turned to Atchinson. “They didn’t ask for it! Can you believe these two?”

  Shorty glared at the preacher. “No, we didn’t ask fer it,” he said impudently. “And I’m thinkin’ we’ve heard about enough outta all of you.”

  “Well, what do you know,” one of the clergyman with a white collar spoke up, “an Irish member of the Mafia.”

  Horace gave the priest one of his toothy grins that looked to the uninitiated like a snarl. Shorty took advantage of it. “Git him, boy!” he snapped, and pushed the timid Horace to the edge of the platform. The preachers gasped in unison and scattered into the night.

  Now in turmoil, the rest of the people at the gathering slowly exited the park. Not knowing what to believe, they went their respective ways to ponder and wonder what really happened in the night sky.

  Abe sat down on the edge of the bandstand while Shorty gathered up the donations. “How do you think they figured it was a fireworks show?” he asked. “Fireworks make a lot of noise.”

  “All I’ve ever seen do,” Shorty agreed, as he stuffed his pockets.“It’s hard to say what they were thinkin’, Mr. Douglas. None of it made much sense if ya ask me. You’d think them of all people would be showin’ a bit more respect fer the Lord, wouldn’t ya?”

  “I thought they’d be happy,” Abe said as he helped Shorty pick up the last of the money.

  “Maybe if the Lord had stayed a bit longer,” Shorty suggested.

  “Maybe,” Abe said. “But I talked to the Captain yesterday and he says the Lord’s got a reason for everything He does. Maybe they weren’t supposed to believe it was Him tonight.”

  Shorty patted his Jacket pockets. “Not to change the subject, Mr. Douglas, but there’s an awful wad of green stuff here. What would ya be proposin’ we do with it?”

  Abe slid his bottom off the platform and eased himself to the grass. “I thought about that today,” he said as he walked along the edge of the bandstand to the steps. Shorty and Horace met him there. “What I’d like to do is buy up a bunch of toys and clothes and stuff and take it out to the orphanage.”

  Shorty came down the steps smiling. “I’m thinkin’ that’d be a fine idea, Mr. Douglas,” he said. “It’d sorta be like Christmas fer the kids, wouldn’t it?”

  “That’s what I thought,” Abe said, putting an arm around the Irishman’s shoulders. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, if the Captain’ll let us off again. I’ll ask him first thing in the morning.” He looked over his shoulder. “Come on, Horace, let’s go home.”