Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller    One of the first things my nephew, Collin, asked when he awoke at our house last Saturday morning was if he could ride on my tractor. He remembered doing that last Christmas, which isn’t bad for a three year old. So he climbed up onto my lap on the Oliver 66, and we went careening down County Road 168, Collin steering and me trying not to smile too much. Then a little later, he asked if he could use the outhouse. We have an indoor bathroom, but I still like the outhouse. Maybe Collin’s way of saying thank you for the tractor ride was to pay his respects to my outhouse. Collin, mid-leap So I smiled again and we put on boots and coats and walked between snowbanks to the outhouse. It’s a two-holer, which fascinated Collin. He couldn’t make up his mind, which for some people could be a disaster, myself included. He had to open each cover to make an inspection of the contents. Then he chose the one on the left. Before he sat down, I asked him if h...

David Heiller Cοllin set out his plan shortly after arriving for Christmas last Friday. “What can we build?” he asked with a sly smile. He always asks that question when he comes for a visit, and he usually has an answer in mind before I can reply. Α wagon. Stilts. A tree fort. These are past projects. What will it be this time, Uncle David? “What are you thinking?” I asked back. Answering a question with a question is good strategy with an eight-year-old. “How about a snow fort?” he asked with another smile. I somehow knew that was coming. In fact, I had been thinking the same thing. But I let him lead the charge. “Sure,” I said after a thoughtful look. “Where could we build it?” “How about the ditch where Noah had his ice cave?” “Good idea,” I answered. Funny, I had been thinking of that same spot. “And maybe we could sleep in it,” he said. “We could give it a try.” That was another thought that had been on my mind. Collin ...

David Heiller The house was spotless for at least five minutes on Saturday morning. The great “Company ' s Coming” ritual was done: dusting, sweeping, mopping, cleaning, organizing, and many other little jobs. I stopped to marvel. Our house never looks like this, and it really shouldn’t, because it would then belong to someone else and not Cindy and me. Then company came. Three more adults, three more kids, one more dog. Both entryways filled up with coats and boots and snow-pants. Cheese Nips and pistachios smothered the counters. Cookies, cookies, everywhere. Lots of cookie, lots of food, lots of joy! Claire and Therese. A dog kennel went into the laundry room. Kids books took their place of honor on the coffee table. Games and playing cards lay on the dίning room table. Soon a Christmas movie was playing on the living room TV, and music poured from the kitchen radio. Dogs barked. People barked. Now we’re talking Christmas! It happens every ye...

David Heiller Christmas is a time of giving. Sometimes the gifts are worth money. Sometimes they are worth much more. Take the gift of a phone call home. I called my mother last week, without really planning to. I’d just received a letter from her, and had written recently too. But I needed to talk to her. I didn’t have much to say. Our Christmas plans, when we could meet in Minneapolis. She talked about the weather in Brownsville, the big snowstorm they had. Noah took the phone, and told her about his deer antler quest, how Grandma Marge at school had promised to bring him one. Then I took the phone again, lingering on small talk, until we said good bye. After I hung up, I felt better. That calm old voice from home carried with it some inner strength that I needed. Now I realize that phone call was an unknowing gift from Mom. How about the gift of a walk in the woods? We tramped down an abandoned township road on Saturday afternoon. Binti lead the way, sniffing for squir...

David Heiller SATURDAY, DEC. 17—A Christmas miracle in the making: Dee Zuk sits with nine children in the church pew, nine children under the age of six. At the front of the church, older kids are saying their parts for the Christmas program. They giggle and stammer and push and read from parts that they should have memorized. Director Mary Cronin leads them along, like Mike Ditka on the sidelines with the Chicago Bears, urging them to cooperate. But Dee Zuk has those nine children lined up as quiet as the proverbial church mice which inhabit Faith Lutheran Church. “Do you have a Christmas tree?” Dee asks. “I have two trees, one upstairs and one downstairs,” Laura Horton answers, sitting on the right hand of Dee the Teacher Almighty. “Do you have a dog?” she continues. My son, Noah, answers that he has two, Ida and Binti. Noah and Malika with their cousin Sarah during a family Christmas.  These were little kids at the time of this performance!  Extra cu...

David Heiller Dear Grandma: You’re probably looking for my annual Christmas letter to you. Practice for the Christmas program at church started three weeks ago. That’s about when Christmas starts for me. Noah didn’t have a part. He just had to sing four songs with the other third and fourth graders. But that was more than enough. It wouldn’t be cool for a 10-year-old to admit that singing was fun. Noah and Grandma Schnick.  David wrote lots of letters to Grandma when she was alive, and didn't stop after she passed. But his actions said something else. Like when he warmed up in the car going to church on Sunday by making up a song. It was something about a missing cat. Mollie joined in at the end of each verse, and harmonized on the chorus. Cindy and I had big grins in the front seat. It was a great song! We didn’t dare interrupt them, being from the   Land of Bland   and all. Mollie had a long part, but she didn’t have to memorize it,...

David Heiller The stars stood sharply in the cold Christmas Eve sky as Noah (nine) and I headed to Faith Lutheran Church last Tuesday night. I pointed out Orion, who stood guard over our mailbox. Orion usually guards the outhouse when I see him, but the season is moving, and Orion is moving with it. He’ll visit the outhouse in a few hours. I pointed out the three stars of his belt, the stars that outlined his broad shoulders, his knees, his sword. Noah liked the sword part. We headed up the road.   Α   moon just-past-full was rising on our right, like a squished orange. We watched it climb above the snow and brush. It would soon blot out the weaker stars of the sky, leaving only stalwarts like Orion and the Big Bear. The Bear arched above Couillard’s house, but I couldn’t see a bear. I’ve never seen the Bear in Ursula Major, but it’s hard not to see its more common name and shape:   the Big Dipper. I pointed the dipper out to Noah, and he spotted it...

David Heiller The missing shoes convinced me that Christmas is here. The missing wedding ring was the first clue, but the shoes convinced me. David and the kids at the kitchen table. The wedding ring disappeared on Monday morning. I had showed the kids at breakfast how shiny the ring was. It had been polished a few days earlier. Noah looked at the ring, then Μalika looked at the ring. Then the ring was gone. I first noticed it at work. I reached for my finger to feel the ring. It’s a habit I have when I talk to pretty women (like my wife). It was gone. All day my finger felt naked. We called the school, and asked if she had taken it to school. She hadn’t. We believed her, sort of. She knows the value of that ring to me. She wouldn’t give it away, or trade it for some Skittles, not on purpose at least. But drug addicts know the dangers of drugs, and still take them. That’s the way my daughter can be with shiny gold things. When we got home, we looked all o...