Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller There are few words more frightening in the human tongue than the voice of a two-year-old from the bathroom late at night saying, “I need someone to clean up my mess.” So Cindy and I sat up in unison when we heard Malika call out from the bathroom at 10 o’clock Sunday night: “I need someone to clean up my mess.” Earlier on that hot day we celebrated Noah and Malika's birthdays. We were sitting in the kitchen playing “Rummikub” with Cindy’s mother when the words came. We didn’t expect them, because any upstairs creaking had been muffled by a large fan that hummed by the table. We hadn’t checked on Malika or Noah for half an hour. The last time, it was black magic marker on her wall, doll, and pillow. The time before that, it was green felt-tipped pen on her legs. As Cindy and I looked at each other, we both wondered, “What color is it this time?” After a couple minutes of debate, I stood up from the kitchen table to see what Mollie’s mess was this ti...

David Heiller  My wife and I have been trying to sell our son on staying with his Grandma Olson ever since Noah brought the idea up two months ago. We had been visiting there, and Noah had enjoyed the fruits of the labor of a grandmother who has only two grandchildren, the oldest of whom is Noah. In other words, he’s had a darn good time with Grandma. Noah and Grandma (Lorely Olson) Grandmas who live in Suburbia have the keys to a wonderful world for a three-year-old. First there are the shopping malls, which have stores that sell nothing but toys for children. Grandma Olson is on a first name basis with every toy store clerk in Brooklyn Center. She can walk through Brookdale blindfolded. Grandma also knows about stores that are gigantic amusement parks for kids. They are like toy stores with the packages already opened. Gigantic trampolines, rooms with padded walls and huge balls to bounce off other kids. Children love them. So do parents who want to farm out...

David Heiller My wife, Cindy brought the idea to words, although it had been rattling around my head before then. She asked Pat Ring if he would make us a stained glass window. She wanted it done in honor of her mother, who died in October of 1998. I quickly agreed with the idea. I like honoring loved ones with something of lasting beauty. When my Grandma Schnick died, we had a friend make a hutch as a tribute to her. That was 11 years ago, and I still think of Grandma every so often when I look at the hutch. It’s a beautiful piece of furniture, and very well used, which Grandma would appreciate. Plus it was made by a good friend. That makes it even more special. Therese and Rosemary are visiting in front Pat's work  of art  in in our Brownsville home.  It now resides in Malika's lovely home.  If you look carefully, you can see Pat's honeybees. Now hanging in the window next to the hutch is another beautiful thing, a stained glass window by anothe...

David Heiller The phone rang at 4:45 a.m. I picked it up and answered before I was really awake. If I had been awake, I would have known to be prepared. But I wasn’t prepared for the news. No one ever is. My grandma, my mom, my great-grandma and me. All my sleepiness disappeared in an instant as Cindy’s voice washed over me. Her mother had died. She was gone, David, gone.   I held her in my arms and she died. We talked for a short time. I can’t remember what we said. We didn’t need to say much. We just needed to be connected, even if it was through a telephone wire. Her brother was there. The minister was coming. They had to tell Nancy, Cindy’s sister. I told Cindy how sorry I was. That didn’t seem like the right thing to say. It didn’t seem like enough. After I hung up the phone, I lay in the dark for a few minutes. I didn’t want to move. I knew if I moved the calm would break and the storm would hit. And it did when I sat up and the minutes passed and the r...

David Heiller I’m a single dad these days. My wife, Cindy, has gone away   to help her mom recover from cancer surgery. Her absence makes me appreciate many things. David and I were partners,  which  made my many  weeks away from  my family so very hard.  Funny, there are really no photos from that fall.  We all survived with lots of love and understanding. Well, maybe not the house! When I think about how hard it is being a single parent, I think back to my own childhood. My dad died four months before I was born, so Mom raised us eight kids by herself and with the help of her mother, who lived upstairs. I can’t get Mom to reminisce about those good old days much, maybe because they weren’t so good. But when she does, she always mentions how Grandma was there to help, how she couldn’t have done it without her. Lately I’ve been thinking about Cindy in the similar manner. I couldn’t do this single parent thing very ...

David Heiller Lorely walked from her bed to the kitchen table, and sat down. It didn’t take long before Collin was there to give her a big hug. Grandma O and the doll house she  assembled for Malika one Christmas.  Lorely’s face held pure joy mixed with a little  bliss. A hug from   a six-year-old grandson first thing Sunday morning must feel pretty good for grandma. Lorely didn’t sit there long, maybe 15 minutes. She was in a lot of pain. She has had cancer for more than three years, and it seems to be getting worse fast. She can barely walk or catch her breath. She is most comfortable lying in bed. She hardly eats. She’s staying with us so that Cindy, her daughter, can take care of her. Some of her grandchildren know the score. I realized that when I saw our son, Noah, sitting on the bed next to Lorely a couple weeks ago, telling about his day, asking about his grandfather and the Good Old Days. He wouldn’t normally do that. But he’s doing it now. Ou...

David Heiller Grandma and Malika at the cabin. (1990) Cindy’s mother, Lorely, was diagnosed with cancer on Saturday, October 15. Lorely spent ten rough days in the hospital, and will spend many more days at home, recovering and taking chemotherapy. Cindy has been gone nearly all of the time since the cancer was discovered. I’m realizing in a hurry how hard it is to be a single parent. Lorely’s illness is making me appreciate both Lorely and Cindy more than I ever have. Many thoughts have crossed my mind about Lorely since the illness was discovered. She has so many good qualities, like her love for her family and her generosity. She had strength enough to raise three children as a single parent without child support payments or extra finan­cial help. I have great respect for that. People usually don’t think about qualities like this in a parent until the parent is facing illness or death, which is a little late. Sometimes too late. But that’s not clear in Lorely’s ...

David Heiller Warning: The following column contain graphic (but not salacious) material. And if that doesn’t get you reading it, nothing will! Winter must be coming, because our house is filling up with mice and flies. It happens every year at this time. I can understand the mice. They feel temperature changes, so they head for a warmer home, which happens to be my home. But flies? Are flies that smart? I don’t like living with either one. I love my wife and two kids and two dogs and one cat. But mice and flies are not welcome. Cindy alerted me to this fall’s mouse invasion about a month ago, when she found shredded toilet paper in the bottom of the bathroom vanity, where she stores things like toilet paper. She figured mice were using it for something other than its intended purpose. She figured they were using it to make a nest. You know what that means. More mice! A battle plan was needed, so she called on me. I’m Chief Mouse Catcher in our house. I’ve been refining ...