Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

I’m Pink Lady Apple Yeggs and my friend, and brother-in-law, Deviled Yeggs suggested that I record each project that I set up in the hopes of reforming the people who continue to work for Lily the Pink Enterprises.  If for no other reason, it would show how God is at work.

Dev Yeggs and I were sitting next to the pool in lounge chairs.  Zuzka, the Daltons, all the people who have been helping the Daltons grow the crops, and a few other volunteers were stationed all over the place, from the ground level to the top of the Crystal Mountain.  Last year, it took them nearly the entire month of December to get all the lights up, and with the weddings, it was crazy a year ago.  Jim Kaiser had wired a special circuit just for the lighting, so flipping one breaker switch could turn the lights on and off.  Jim and Kevin had tested each piece, and nothing needed to be replaced, but we never knew what we would get until we flipped the breaker.  But if it worked, our forest of fake banyan trees would become the biggest Christmas tree in all of Tracy.  And now that Zuzka had added a couple more stories to the mountain top, mostly to help regulate the indoor weather a little better, our new “Christmas tree” will be taller than the tree at Rockefeller Center in NYC, not that we added the height for that purpose.  Besides, theirs is a real tree.

As for Blaise, he was feverishly working on something, but it was a secret.

But Jim Kaiser was just being an engineer.  I had learned to put up with his “what if” routine, mainly because the wires had not been moved, and not many wires were added to the top, mostly a big star on the mountain top.  His “what if” went from vibrations that might rub cables to birds and rodents that might nibble insulation and then we have a short circuit that could knock out power to the building complex.  Thus, double-checking every circuit before flipping the switch.

But tonight was lighting night, and Missy said that our neighbors were gathering along the street outside, even though they could only see the top half from their vantage point.  Mary Sheltie Jones (B.B.) had a film crew to document the lighting and a couple of drones outside the mountain.

But Dev and I were simply relaxing.  For once, we had no assigned duties, except to sip nonalcoholic cider and watch.  Naomi was helping in the nursery, and they had a huge glass wall to see everything from inside the nursery.

Dev asked, “Pink, I do not see as many homeless families as you have had in the past.  What has changed?”

I smiled, “A lot of things.  The Daltons used to be homeless after their home was destroyed in a flood.  They had a career change since their cattle were washed away also.  You do realize that it has been a year since they purchased the llamas.  Odd how you solve a murder and someone else gets a blessing.  The Daltons still want to add cattle, but now they have llamas and goats.  They could build a house and move to the farm, but I think they are waiting for Emmett or Arabella to decide to move there.  I am thinking Arabella.  She loves those animals.  But the point is, Dev, is that you see them as employees instead of homeless people.  We still have several families here that originally came from the mission.”

Dev sighed, “But when you started this, you were getting a revolving door of homeless families.”

I laughed, “There are different types of homeless families.  When you see a homeless person on the street, what do you think?  What is your reaction?”

Dev shrugged, “I’m a cop.  I assess the situation.  If I sense no threat, I wonder why the person is homeless.  My heart goes out to them.”

I replied, “But you look at them as if they were a threat first.  I look at someone that needs a helping hand first.  Then I see if they need cleaning up, as in drugs or alcohol.  Like the mission, I cannot afford those things in this facility.”

Dev groaned, “Pink, you make hard apple cider.  Alcohol is your business.”

I responded to his remark, “Have you ever heard of the drunk that drinks the profit?  Someone who indulges in alcohol will not perform their job properly.  If they are social drinkers, they will encourage others to join them.  That not only ruins my profits, it creates an unsafe work environment.  I have tasters that have to remain sober.  Those that do not have an aversion to alcohol will drink a glass of cider with their meal, but no more.  The supervisors watch that closely.  And my ladies do a great job.  The gentlemen too.  We are still mostly women employees, but as the campus adds more need for workers, I hire whoever can do the work.  But I prefer those homeless people who are out of work.  You do realize that the revolving door that you mentioned were a lot of families who had a roof collapse, mold or pest infestation, or storm damage.  The parents worked, but until the problem was fixed, they stayed here.  Those families are not going to be threats as you call them.”

Dev back peddled, “I said I looked for threats, not that they were threats.  But while the courts consider the person innocent until proven guilty, a detective has already investigated the case.  They would not bring the case to the D.A. until they think it is a solid case.  But then there are threats everywhere.  When I investigate a crime, someone has died.  Could the murderer be in the crowd outside the ropes to see if we are sniffing the murderer’s trail? It often happens that way.  I look through the crowd outside the tape, memorizing faces in case that face becomes a suspect or a person of interest.  But I let the evidence lead me to a solution.  I admonish Poached on occasion for getting tunnel vision.  He is getting a lot better, but if we decide who is guilty and then we build evidence that suggests they might be the person, then we avoid looking at the bulk of evidence that speaks to the contrary.  But as for being wary around a crowd of people who are down on their luck, I remember an old Vietnam veteran who said that he would go into a village and a crowd would gather.  And it was probably a child or a woman who had the hand grenade, ready to toss it into your jeep.  A policeman who is not alert to threats becomes a reason for me to wear my uniform, to the funeral.”

I huffed, “Let’s not get maudlin.  I am just saying that some people are homeless because they choose to be.  Some phobia or PTSD, they just feel trapped inside a house.  The mission has crews that ask those type people to come inside when the heat index is too high or it is too cold.  I provide the buses, and for the night and a good shower and a good couple of meals and someone to wash their clothing for them, they can manage the anxiety.  But then you have those who had some type of misfortune.  Good people, but bad things happened, and they were not ready for it.  Then you have those that bought too much of a house and then the pay raise did not come when they needed it, or one parent lost their job.  But then, you have those like you are looking out for.  They might have some kind of addiction and that might lead to a crime, maybe not a crime of violence unless they feel trapped.  Those might be alcoholics, drug abusers, or gamblers.  Have I defined homelessness to your satisfaction, Lieutenant?”

Dev nodded, but the nod was nearly interrupted.  Sophia came out of the nursery with the children that could walk.  In other words, they were driving the nursery staff crazy, and Sophia and most of the teenagers were organizing games while they saw a light string come on and then go off during the final testing.

Sophia said, “Daddy, I have finally decided what I want for Christmas.”

Dev nodded, “I know you to be very reasonable.  You are always down to earth and frugal.  I am so glad you have taken such time and consideration in your request.  Anything, and it is yours.”

I snickered.

Sophia said, “I want to marry Emmett Dalton here in the Crystal Mountain on Christmas Day.  A big wedding with all the trimmings.”

Dev swallowed very hard.  “I am glad you did not specify a year.  We might arrange that in the future.  As far as I know, Emmett has not proposed, and I am not going to be a party to a shotgun wedding.  Now, I said that I trusted you to be reasonable.  What do you really want?”

Sophia groaned in disappointment, but then she smiled again.  “I want to strip naked and run around inside the Crystal Mountain until Emmett stops me.”

Dev growled, “You probably have the city statute against streaking memorized.  Besides, our Aunt Pink has a rule against that here.”

I raised my hands in surrender.  “Leave me out of this.  I would make an exemption for Sophia just to see how red in the face her father can get, with that vein in his neck that throbs in such times.  And, my dear brother, you told her anything her heart desires.  And her first and second choices have been denied.  I thought you were a man of your word!”

Dev moaned, “She is playing the unreasonable suggestions to soften the blow.  When she gets around to the real one, that better be soon, I may not like it, but I may be stuck with it.  But first, why make these two unreasonable suggestions?”

Sophia shrugged, “You kind of explained it, but the wedding is that Emmett hasn’t proposed yet, but then again, we are sophomores in high school.  But the bullying at the football game still has me flustered that I am his protection.  I would just love for him to tackle me and hug me to keep me safe.”

Dev nodded, “So, now we get to the real request that you think I will not like.”

Sophia took a deep breath.  It was obvious this request was going to come out quickly and in one breath.  “Daddy, I want a driver’s license.”

Dev was speechless.  After stammering a little, he said, “You are not old enough.”

Sophia said, “But I am old enough to get my learner’s permit.  If I took a day off this next week from school, I could take the written test.  You know that I have the statutes memorized.  Give me ten tests, and I will make a hundred on all ten.  Please, Daddy, please?”

Dev asked, “And what does your mother say about this?”

Sophia said, “She said that she would explode if shaken, so you have to be with me when I practice driving.  And my profits from my business ventures will go to the increase in insurance premiums.”

Dev asked, “Wow!  And you are okay with this?”

Sophia nodded, “Yes, Daddy, and if I have a car that I can drive, you won’t have to drive over here late at night to pick up Blaise.  That is once I have my license, in three months when I will be old enough.”

Dev nodded, “Yes, Sweetie, you have done as you always do.  You thought it through, including my objections.  Yes, let’s pick a day and time when it is least upsetting to your schedule.”

Sophia started to dance, but she stopped.  “Tuesday, pick me up for lunch, I will just miss physical education, study hall, and geometry.  I have nothing but high grades in both subjects.”

Dev nodded again, “And as I figured, you already had a time set.”  Dev turned to me.  “And quit laughing, Pink, your time is coming.”

At that moment, Kanok approached us.  Kanok had just turned two years old a couple of months ago.  “Mommie Pinkie, I want a driver’s license for Christmas, too!”

I started to stammer.  “Ummm.  I think you need to talk to your Unka D.  He is a police officer.”

Kanok turned to Dev.  “Unka D?  Are you a police officer?  I have never seen you in a uniform.  Mamma Missy has a uniform.  Where is yours?”

Dev said, “Kanok, I work plain clothes.  I am a detective.  I only wear my uniform for parades or formal occasions.”

Kanok asked, “Do you have a badge?  Police people have badges!”  Dev pulled out his shield.  He flipped it one way to so his identification with photo and then the other way to reveal his shield.  “What does the badge say?”

Dev said, “At the top, it says ‘City of Tracy, then Police Department.’  Then along the bottom, it says ‘Lieutenant.’ “

Kanok asked, “What’s a looty nant?”

Dev said, “A lieutenant in the detectives, like me, is the head of a group of detectives.  In the division where I work, I take charge of every case that we get.  I tell your brother Poached what he should do, along with Jim Wednesday and any uniformed policeman that might be helping.”

Kanok nodded, as if she understood completely.  “Mommie Pinkie says I should come to you to get a driver’s license for Christmas.”

Dev rubbed his chin.  “Kanok, have you ever sat in the driver’s seat?”  She shook her head.  “The driver’s seat has a big wheel.  Do you think you could reach the wheel while you sit down?”  She shook her head.  “When you sit in your car seat, can you see the road that you drive on?”

Kanok asked, “No, but do I have to see that?”

Dev wobbled his head.  “It is advised that you do, but some people don’t bother.  That is why the police give them tickets.  Can your feet touch the floor when you are strapped into your car seat?”

Kanok said, “My feet don’t touch the seat.  I can’t see the floor!  I am little for my age.  Do my legs have to be that long?”

Dev nodded, “Yep.  The next time you get into a car, ask the driver if you can see the foot pedals.  One is to go faster.  And the other is to stop.  I don’t think you have a stick shift.”

I suggested, “The biggest two buses.”

Dev nodded, “The only three pedal vehicles require a commercial license.  So, maybe not this Christmas, but when you get a little bigger.  Okay?”

Kanok nodded.  “I didn’t know there were pickles!”  She turned and ran to play with the other children.

Dev asked, “How long will that last?”

I shrugged, “She may forget all about it, or she may be measuring herself tomorrow to see if she has grown.  But I loved your answer.”

Dev asked, “Pink, I have never seen you drive.  Do you have a driver’s license?”

Pink shrugged, “I have people who want to take me everywhere.  Do I need one?”

Dev groaned, “I figured.”

Gwen walked up.  “Pink, we have worked out the Christmas shopping schedule all this week.  Grannie Fannie and I will be taking a few children each to shop for the other children.  We will also get an idea of what they want the most.”

Dev interrupted, “Whoever has Kanok, avoid the motorized cars that you can sit in and drive.”

Gwen was confused.  “Why may I ask?”

I snickered, “Dev just convinced Kanok that she does not need a driver’s license because she is not big enough for her to reach the ‘pickles’.  But if she sees that they make cars small enough…”

Gwen shook her head.  “Yes, message received and understood, but does this mean Sophia will be getting her driver’s license?”

Dev asked, “Why am I the last to know?”

I patted his arm.  “It’s a girl thing!”

Then Gwen asked, “You never give us any hints as to what you want, Pink.  Do you want me to get you something?”

I sighed, “I have not seen the candy canes yet.  I get enough for us and the mission.  If we wait any longer, the stores may be sold out.”

Gwen turned to Dev.  “Dev, did you hear this woman?  For over a week there have been two huge boxes next to her desk.  Next to her desk!  Not hidden in the corner.  Pink Lady Apple Yeggs is not a cat.  She is never curious.  And she has tons of willpower.”  She turned back to me.  “You do not go to the grocery store to buy a thousand candy canes.  I ordered them online.  Two boxes, five hundred in each box, all peppermint so there is no fighting over a favorite flavor.  We have enough for your Christmas Eve walkthrough.  Enough for two for each child old enough that is in the nursery.  Enough for the eighteen Christmas trees here and the four at the mission.  Kanok tells me she has called dibs on the broken ones.  How she knows about dibs I will never know, but if you let her have a few broken ones and then share the others with the other children, she probably won’t fuss.”

I groaned, “You haven’t been with her all day, every day.  She is wanting to get as much mileage out of the terrible twos as possible.  Joon seems to be her personal punching bag.  He will punch back some day.  Maybe we can give her broken candy canes as a bribe to be good for a little while and give her brother a break.”

Gwen sat in a lounge chair.  Sophia, Emmett, and Margie were herding the children into an area near the beach volleyball court.  Menzie and Samuel were already there, guarding something – some big secret.

There was an announcement over the intercom system.  Jim Kaiser said, “This year, we have something we have not tried yet.  It either works or it doesn’t, but after the initial introduction.  The lights are on a timer system.  The lights will start at the base of the trees, and then every fifteen seconds, the next level turns on.  A young entrepreneur who will remain nameless designed it so that we do not get a surge in electrical use that might trip a breaker.  So, Mr. Gizmo, get this thing started!”

Dev, Gwen and I all asked, “Mr. Gizmo?”

At that moment, a fireball appeared in the area near the beach volleyball court.  It rose in a swirling fashion to miss the tree limbs and water slides and hydroponic piping and sluices.  When the fireball, made of several sparklers tied together, reached the new extended peak of the Crystal Mountain, fireworks erupted outside the greenhouse enclosure from the peak, as if the Crystal Mountain had become a volcano.  It was just enough show to heighten everyone’s anticipation.  The lights started to come on, a few strings at a time.  It took nearly ten minutes before all the lights were lit.  We heard cheers from balconies and from the cider house.  What I did not know was that the maintenance decks over the big house had been fitted with new strings of lights.  The upper deck said “Merry Christmas” in red and green lights and the lower deck said “from all your friends at Lily the Pink” in pink lights, of course.

The neighbors who had parked along our quiet street in front of the house began to honk.

Don’t wait for the last minute.  I hope you have your shopping done already.

Credits

The Rockefeller Center Christmas tree is roughly 75ft tall each year, but a recent one was 80ft tall.  If you assume a floor of a building is roughly 10ft, a nine story building would be 90ft.  With the extension of the Crystal Mountain now at about ten stories above shipping and receiving, the height of the tallest of the fake trees is about 100 feet, but then the big house is at the top of the hill and the upper fake trees (water tanks covered with bark to look like a banyan tree) are only about three stories above the house, five stories up to reach the peak, using the maintenance platforms.

When we were in Mississippi and I worked at the NASA project, my wife took our older son to the neighboring town to take his written test.  He got his learner’s permit.  He could drive as long as there was a licensed driver in the car.  When they got on our country road that we lived on at the time, she let him drive.  He did okay until he reached our house.  He slowly turned the wheel to make the left turn, not turning it enough.  My wife panicked and screamed for him to stop.  He responded by panicking even more than my wife did.  He slammed on the gas and took the corner of our fenced front yard out, along with a rose bush.  We reset the fence.  The rose bush was toast, uprooted, and just a ball of thorns left.  The car was damaged only superficially.  I became the designated driving instructor.  When my younger son wanted to get his license, I had moved to Pittsburgh alone (getting the job in mid-semester).  A lady from our church, who lived down a gravel road with no fences nearby, volunteered to teach him how to drive.  The benefit was he learned using a stick shift.  He can drive anything.  My wife simply could not handle the stress.