The Thursday Night Club

by Steven Manchester

  “That doesn’t sound strange at all,” McKee said. “In a way, you’ll all be graduating twice.”

  They awaited an explanation.

  “In the spring, you’ll all be graduating from higher education,” she said, “but tonight…tonight, you’re graduating from childhood into an adult life of caring and compassion.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “I spend hours filling your heads, trying to prepare you for that big bad world out there. But as I think about it, I’ve only told my own children three things: have the courage to be who God made you to be; take responsibility for your life—whether it’s happiness or misery, it’s your choice; and if you work hard enough and never lose faith, dreams really do come true.” She smiled. “And I’ve watched each one of you do exactly that for weeks now.”

  “We’ve definitely tried our best,” Randy said proudly.

  Professor McKee shook her head. “No, you’ve done more than try, Randy,” she said and then searched each of their eyes. “You guys went out into the world and did it! You took action, real positive action, and there are already many lives that will never be the same again because of it.”

  The four friends couldn’t wipe the smiles from their faces.

  “So let’s hear it,” McKee said. “Let’s hear about all the amazing things Jesse inspired you to do.”

  Izzy stepped forward first. “Well, I ran a book drive for four weeks to raise money and collect books for adult literacy.”

  Ava cleared her throat to report more, but Izzy quickly gave her the evil eye and a subtle shake of the head. The others picked up on it, but never questioned it. Professor McKee grinned. Ava’s eyes filled with proud tears for her friend, while she kept their secret.

  “All together,” Izzy said, “I raised thirty two hundred dollars, more boxes of books than I can count and a local library connection that should generate free books for years to come. More importantly, I raised tons of awareness and even recruited a few serious volunteers who will be getting involved.”

  “So you’ve already gathered a following,” McKee noted. “Good for you, Izzy. Jesse would be proud.”

  Izzy nodded and the first tears streamed down her cheeks. “I can’t even begin to explain everything I’ve learned over the past few weeks, but it’s amazing to me how fortunate…” she paused, “…and guilty I feel for having everything I have.”

  The rest of them agreed.

  As though they were in class, Professor McKee turned to the others. “Randy, I think we all know that you were responsible for saving one of our freshmen from a brutal sexual attack.”

  Randy smiled coyly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, “though I did hear that some known rapist was stopped before he could take another victim.” He grinned wider. “The police think it’s enough to put him away for a long time.”

  “That’s our Crime Fighter,” Kevin teased.

  “You mean our Super Hero?” Ava corrected him.

  While they all laughed, Professor McKee stared at Randy. “Good for you,” she said.

  Randy shook his head. “I guess I want to help people because there was a time in my life when I was bullied.” He pointed to Kevin. “After Kevin’s gorilla stunt, I realized that the campus police are incredibly understaffed and that we have a responsibility to look after ourselves.” He shrugged. “Protect our own, you know?”

  They all nodded.

  “So I’ve spent the last few weeks establishing a campus crime watch that will be run by students next year,” he added. “Hopefully, it’ll be in place for years to come.”

  The wise professor nodded. “Goodness,” she said. “To think of all the people you may be saving from becoming victims.”

  While Randy blushed, Kevin proudly added, “Not bad for a communications major.”

  Randy chuckled. “And therein lies the challenge. I’ve already decided to take Criminal Justice courses next year so I can graduate with two majors.”

  “You what?” Izzy asked, shocked. “You’re staying for a fifth year?”

  Randy smiled. “I am.”

  “No radio internship?” Kevin teased.

  Randy laughed. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when I graduate…maybe join the campus police, military service, or even municipal law enforcement. Whatever it is, thanks to Jesse I know I’ll be serving a purpose much bigger than just myself from here on.”

  “Incredible,” Professor McKee sighed and then turned to Ava. “And you, Ava?”

  “I’ve been volunteering with the elderly,” Ava said nervously. “Though it’s not as important as what Randy’s done.”

  “I’m sure it is to them,” Professor McKee interrupted.

  Ava smiled proudly. “This may sound weird, but it’s not about anything I’ve done or am doing. In fact, I don’t have to do anything. I just need to be with them, so they know they’re not alone in this world and that another human being cares.” She looked at Professor McKee, her eyes filled with gratitude. “It may not mean a lot to most people, but Professor McKee’s right; it means everything to each of them and that makes it worth every second I spend.”

  In that moment, McKee became teary-eyed. “Brilliant!” she said. “I can’t tell you how proud I am right now.” She took a deep breath to retain her composure. “And how proud Jesse must be, looking down on you guys right now.”

  “He’d better be,” Izzy joked.

  All four laughed—wiping away more happy tears.

  Without waiting to be called, Kevin stepped forward. “As my friends know, I’ve pretty much had tobeg, borrow and almost steal to pay for college.” He shook his sorrowful head. “I realized when I was very young that without a secondary education, I’d never get the opportunities needed to climb out of poverty and create a better future for myself and my children, if I ever have any.” He took a deep breath and turned to face Professor McKee directly. “I was raised by my grandparents, who created miracles by keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads. I always felt ashamed that we had nothing, but the older I got the more I realized that life was all about creating our own circumstances.” He shook his head. “The same people who look down on kids from the ghetto could never even dream of ways of getting out themselves…especially at eighteen years old.”

  “So what kind of miracle were you inspired to perform over the past few weeks?” Professor McKee asked.

  “All I did was ride my bike from Boston to the tip of the Cape,” Kevin replied.

  “Is that all?” Randy teased.

  Kevin smiled. “And with some very generous sponsors, I’ve been able to create some awareness of the problem, as well as two annual college scholarships for impoverished, inner-city kids—” He got choked up and needed to stop for a moment. “—so that they’ll also have a shot at college and a decent life.” As soon as Kevin finished, he was overcome with emotion and began to cry.

  His friends joined him and they all began to sob. With incredible love and respect, Professor McKee quietly looked on.

  “I don’t mean to get all emotional on everyone,” Kevin managed between sobs, “but it’s just that I’m so grateful to Jesse for—”

  “—for the greatest gift anyone can receive,” the teacher interrupted, “…a purpose.”

  The four friends were in awe at the miracles taking place in their lives. The emotions were overwhelming.

  “So how do you pick a winner,” McKee asked, “when each of your deeds has been hugely impacting to the people whom you’ve touched?”

  They each shrugged.

  She searched each of their faces. “So that’s it then?” she asked. “The contest is over?”

  “Nope,” Randy said, sniffling. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s just gotten started.”

  They all nodded in agreement.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Izzy said. “The way I see it, it’ll take a hundred Christmases to bring Jesse’s memory the honor it deserves and—”

  “—and carry on his torch
of kindness,” Kevin added, nodding. “Yup, a lifetime wouldn’t be long enough.”

  Ava smiled at her friends. “But four lifetimes might,” she whispered.

  They all smiled.

  “It seems to me that you’ve all won,” Professor McKee said.

  Ava grabbed the glass jar containing the four quarters. “But we still need to decide who walks away with the winnings,” she said.

  While Izzy wrapped her arms around Ava’s shoulder, Professor McKee spent a moment in thought. She winked at Ava. “Since any one of you could take the pot, why don’t you just flip for it?”

  They each grabbed a quarter.

  Kevin announced, “On three, we all flip. Heads side-up stays in.” He smiled. “One, two, three…”

  They all flipped. Kevin and Ava were out in the first round.

  Izzy and Randy flipped again. As their coins settled, Randy yelled, “No!”

  “Sorry, Rockin’ Randy,” Kevin teased.

  Smiling, Randy picked up the quarters and handed them to Izzy. Ava smiled at the irony.

  Izzy held the four coins for a moment before sliding them into her pocket. Hugs were then exchanged all around, with Professor McKee joining in. “Congratulations,” she said, “and Merry Christmas.”

  ~~~

  Izzy was walking down the sidewalk, talking on her cell phone. “I don’t know what Randy’s planning, Ava,” she said. “All I know is that he’s been dying to even the score with Kevin ever since that radio station prank and I don’t want to miss it.” She listened and laughed. “Okay, I’ll see you there.”

  Two blocks later, she approached one of Kevin’s new friends—a homeless man. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the four quarters. Looking around to ensure no one was watching, she dropped the money into the man’s paper cup.

  “God bless you,” the poor soul whispered.

  “No,” Izzy said, shaking her head. “God bless Jesse.”

  More from the Author - Twelve Months

  Don DiMarco has a very good life – a family he loves, a comfortable lifestyle, passions and interests that keep him amused. He also thought he had time, but that turned out not to be the case. Faced with news that might have immediately felled most, Don now wonders if he has time enough. Time enough to show his wife the romance he didn’t always lavish on her. Time enough to live out his most ambitious fantasies. Time enough to close the circle on some of his most aching unresolved relationships. Summoning an inner strength he barely realized he possessed, Don sets off to prove that twelve months is time enough to live a life in full.

  A glorious celebration of each and every moment that we’re given here on Earth, as well as the eternal bonds that we all share, Twelve Months is a stirring testament to the power of the human spirit.

  *

  I had just finished the first draft of a novel, entitled, The Rockin’ Chair and was happy to take some time off. Two days later, I was in the shower thinking, There’s never enough time to do everything we want to do. Then another thought hit me. What if I only had twelve months left? And the decision was made right then and there. I need to write this book!

  So I created Don DiMarco; an ordinary man faced with extraordinary circumstances—having to face his death long before he thought he would have to. He is madly in love with his wife, adores his daughter and spoils his two grandchildren. Don is a good man; the salt of the earth, but he must find the courage to truly live.

  The cliché is true: We can only write about who we know and what we know. Although I consider Twelve Months a fictional work, the content all felt very real to me—so the emotions were also very real.

  In the end, the novel’s message is simple but very powerful: As far as we know, we only get one shot at this thing called life—so we each need to make it a great one. Stop wasting time drifting along. Take complete responsibility for your life and live each moment with real intention. In essence, have a love affair with your own life.

  The novel’s excerpt depicts Don in the final days of his battle with cancer. Something comes over him—an unexpected surge of will power—and he suddenly feels compelled to volunteer some of the time he has left with people who are even worse off than him. By giving something back and lending a helping hand, he knows he will enrich his life and maybe even make a difference in someone else’s. Although he never needed his wife’s permission for anything, this is different. There are so few moments left. He asks Bella what she thinks.

  “I think it’s a terrible idea,” she says, her smile threatening to crack her face in half.

  “Good,” he says. “I thought you would.”

  And the adventure begins.

  *

  The state’s premier pediatric facility was designed in collaboration with doctors, nurses and other health care professionals, as well as parents and children. Earning worldwide recognition for its family-centered environment and expert staff, it also had the area’s only pediatric oncology program. They provided diagnosis and treatment to kids, ranging in age from newborn to eighteen years old.

  Comprehensive treatment was provided for infants, children and adolescents with cancer and blood disorders. Special expertise and programs existed for children with leukemia, brain tumors, lymphoma, hemophilia and sickle cell disease.

  Volunteers had to submit an application with references, provide an updated immunization record, agree to a tuberculosis test, complete an orientation to hospital policies and procedures, and commit to a minimum of four hours each week for at least four months. I wasn’t sure about the last requirement, but decided, if I don’t meet it, I’m not real worried about being sued.

  It was a cold morning when I arrived for my orientation. Though I expected to be joined by others, it was just me and Carissa Kennedy, my bubbly guide. “On behalf of volunteer services, welcome,” she said, with a brilliant smile. “We appreciate the time you’re taking from your personal life. I hope you gain as much from the experience as the patients do.”

  “I have no doubt.”

  “Our volunteers are a talented group of people who make a huge difference in the kids’ lives and there are lots of opportunities to make that difference. You could greet visitors and patients, be a liaison for patients and families, or even assist in the emergency room. Some volunteers like to deliver flowers and mail.”

  “I was hoping to do something more directly with the kids.”

  “We have many volunteers who visit with patients or hold the hand of a chronically ill child. Some read to the kids and others assist those with disabilities.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said.

  Carissa looked at me. “Which one?” she asked.

  “All of the above.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was a child-friendly atmosphere, including a life-sized playhouse. We were at the end of a corridor when I spotted a plaque on the wall. It read “Everybody can be great because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.” – Martin Luther King, Jr.

  “I like that.”

  “Me, too,” she said, “but my favorite quote is, ‘We cannot always return an act of kindness to the person who bestowed it, but we can pay back the debt by helping others.'”

  “Nice.”

  As we marched up one corridor and down the next, Carissa filled me in on my rights as a volunteer. “Just so you know, you have certain rights when you’re giving your time here.” She began counting on her fingers. “The hospital promises you a clear volunteer assignment, fulfilling work, training, informed involvement, supervision, respect, your time put to best use, safe and healthy working conditions and recognition of your service.”

  “Wow, good for you. That’s a lot to remember,” I teased.

  She giggled.

  “Recognition?” I asked. “Are people really concerned with that when they volunteer?”

&n
bsp; She shrugged. “Nobody that I’ve met yet.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Upon completing my week of training and orientation, I started spending time with the kids. At first, I read to two of the older ones – sixteen and seventeen, respectively – who were near their end. Both were sedated and submerged in hospital-induced comas. After each page I finished, I looked up for a reaction. There was none. Through my own ungodly suffering, I kept right on reading, hoping that on some level my presence brought them some comfort.

  I went whenever I could physically make it, which wasn’t nearly as often as I would have liked. For the first time since being diagnosed with this evil and greedy disease, my will was no longer as strong as the bad cells that multiplied inside me.

  It’s difficult to explain the symptoms. I’d suffered from the flu a few times in my life; times when body aches, cold sweats, fever and chills made me want to lay down right where I was and curl up into the fetal position. With cancer, this would have been a good day. Cell by dying cell, my body was shutting down.

  Two weeks had passed before I was introduced to some of the younger children by the nursing staff I’d grown to care for. These honest, little people asked me some of the strangest questions. “Why is your nose so big?” one small lad inquired.

  “It was a gift from my father.”

  “Do you like candy canes better than candy corn?”

  “I’ve never met a candy I couldn’t get along with.”

  “Why are you really here?”

  Even though I knew the answer, this was a tough one. “To make you smile,” I said, but the truth was a bit more selfish than that. Deep down, I knew I was there to face my paralyzing fear of death and to make peace with it. It seemed reasonable enough. These children had just come from heaven and were already returning home. Who could be closer to God than that?