by Lorraine Ray
"We won't have to wait another day for those wonderful pomegranates-and I wish I knew how they get those to grow so gall darn big and juicy-up at Ralph Campbell's house, and that means you kids can come along and play with Mikey in his room, while I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and pick some fruit. Ralph says the fruit is pulling down the branches all around his trees; it's so heavy, and he is afraid it will fall or the birds will get at them. There could be some wind coming, and that will drop the fruit like Billy-be darned. I want to make some darn good jelly with those fruits of his this year and it was nice of him to offer them. It's gonna be a lot of work to make the jelly. 'Who will pick the fruit?' 'I will,' said the Little Red Hen. 'And who will cook the fruit?' 'I will' said the Little Red Hen. 'And who will clean the glasses?' 'I will said the Little Red Hen.' And-"
"And she didn't," said Jack and Meredith evilly, reversing the old hen tale which we despised.
"And she did! 'Who will eat the jelly?' 'I will,' said the Little Red Hen."
"I hate the Little Red Hen," said Meredith gladly. "She's a fink."
"Mrs. Campbell only does a few jars and they have four trees on their side yard! Nothing is better than pomegranate jelly."
"Let's just buy it then," said Jack. "There's too much of this Red Hen business. That means work."
"Oh no! Buy it! Heavens no! They have all the news from Indiana as Mrs. Campbell's sister lives, oh, over the line in Ohio, now I've forgotten the county, but close enough to the folks. I hear the weather is pretty good in Indiana this year and the crops are coming in way above what anyone predicted-"
"Indiana ought to go to blazes. Dad says that," Jack ventured.
"-and that's going to make it a happy Christmas all around. I believe Mrs. Campbell's sister's husband's brother or nephew owns an orchard in southern Indiana. I believe I heard her say that one time. I wonder if the apple crop is any good. Well, I don't think the freezes were much to snort at last spring, so maybe not. Well, bundle up and let's get up to Ralph's."
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell wore matching plaid jackets and stood on the porch. Mikey Campbell had been brought out, too. A debilitating disease, never discussed, made his head large and his limbs puny and frail. His parents carried him everywhere. He had light blonde hair and was already fourteen years old, though he appeared to be smaller than Jack.
"Here they come! Here come the kids! No need to worry about calling them!" called Mr. Ralph Campbell to his wife when we crunched across the white gravel of his little semicircular drive with three ocotillos plants, monkey coach whips or Devil's coach whips, one growing for each of their family, in the center of the gravel fan. The shadowy lines of the ocotillo wiggled over the gravel like tentacles.
Ralph hurried out to meet us and turned back to his house, hunched in his plaid coat with long straight pieces of his gray hair falling into his eyes. He had hairy eyebrows and big hands. Until his decision to sell up and come to Arizona for their son Mike's health, he'd been a farmer. The tip of his large hooked nose was always a little too pink from alcohol, even early in the morning.
Ralph walked with us toward his red concrete porch. "The kids are here," he announced happily.
"Hey you guys," shouted Mikey at us as we approached the rusty white porch skimmer where he had been left. His tiny hand was clinging to the arm of the skimmer. He was bobbing up and down with excitement at our arrival.
The winter sun was low in the midmorning sky. A cold wind skimmed the first winter storm over the big purple mountains behind the Campbell home. Long white wisps of clouds scalloped the sky's middle.
Mrs. Campbell carried her son to his room, and plopped him in the middle of his queen-sized bed. We followed like a dutiful set of ducklings, my sister and I dressed in matching black and white houndstooth coats. Mrs. Campbell turned on the TV. She also cranked open a little window and went outside. If Mikey needed anything, he could holler and his mother would hear.
This TV of his own was something we were very jealous of. He told us he had stayed up for Chiller with Kindly, Loveable Dr. Scar as the host, and seen "The Castle and the Cat," a horrifying movie. He showed us the first TV remote we had ever seen. He even changed a channel for us.
Mikey told Jack to go into his dresser drawer and get out his box of ping pong balls. With the use of a fly swatter, Mikey could play a badminton game on the bed whenever we came over. We hopped around the room retrieving the balls that he shot every which way, rather randomly, against walls, TV screens, dressers, and closet drawers. He never spoke to us about anything but TV and ping pong. Being fourteen, he didn't think we'd have much to say of interest to him.
"What's the news from your sister?" I heard mother asking Mrs. Campbell outside. "I love to know what's happening in the Midwest. In the towns around my folks they're all talking about the bank in Indianapolis that went broke. A lot of loans from there in Warren, let me tell you. The folks are hearing all about it in town. Going to ruin a few people, including the mayor. Mother hears it in the store and the drivers' license bureau. Lots of bad loans collapsing. Central Indiana always had strong banks."
"I sent it flying over there!" Mikey screamed from the bed.
"I'll get it," said Meredith, diving quickly.
In the high window I could see the pomegranate trees trembling from the pickers surrounding them. I could see Mr. Campbell's big hands fumbling to pull the enormous splotchy pomegranate fruits.
"Look out for this one!" said Mikey, shooting another ping pong ball at the ceiling.
"Whoa!" said Meredith. "Catch it!"
"Not much news in Ohio. All of it good, though, what little there is. Nobody's sick or anything in the family, as I hear tell, but there's a bad cough somewhere. One of the cow is sick. I don't know what, but they have it on its own. Got a special shed for that. Suppose it will die, if the vet don't come out and cure it soon. Was a good cow of theirs, that one. One of my nieces is a senior in High School. She's gonna go to Washington D.C. on a bus for graduation. I did it myself."
"I did too," our mother claimed.
Someone scooted a loaded bag along the ground.
"Say these bags are really getting full," said Ralph.
"She's excited about Kennedy," continued Mrs. Campbell, "She was a nut about him. Oh, it's a wonderful year in western Ohio, at least, near abouts where their farm is. The whole area did well this year. Crop-wise, I guess you mean. The towns are bustling as it approaches the holiday. Lots of people coming and buying plenty. My brother is going up to Chicago for some business. Gonna be there a week, I guess. As I hear tell. Overall pretty good for my kin, I'd say."
"I expect it's about the same in Indiana."
"Oh, I spec so everywhere."
"Rain's been falling generally all summer and then in the fall, I think. I've been talking to my sisters on the phone."
"Oh yes. A good year for the rains, but nothing damaging."
"Get ready, I'm going hit this one hard," Mikey promised.
"No. No tornados at all in the county."
"Well, there was one that touched down near Markle in September."
"Oh, are you from around there?"
"Why yes, don't you remember?"
"We know a lot of people in Arizona from Indiana. You'd be surprised, Juney."
"Ah huh, well, there's bound to be."
"Don't miss tornadoes," said Ralph slyly. "Here's some big ones on the other side."
"Oh, get her those then."
"I brought out plenty of paper bags. Maybe you know someone you can give them to? At the church?"
"Say, that's an idea. I brought the kids. They can carry a few bags if they aren't too heavy."
"If we leave any, they're just going to be wasted."
"Well, don't try the high ones. I don't want anyone falling for jelly!"
"What would you say to a coffee, Juney?"
"Now that is something I always say yes to."
"Don't like the look of those clouds. Storm front."
"Suppose it's rain?" asked Ralph
, opening the back gate.