Everyone can look back on a day. That special look, wedding vows
the first born. Mine was the day I met the Littlest Angel. No it
is not a love thing. She was five I was eleven. She was a double of
a Shirley Temple doll. We bonded immediately. My father had recently
been through the alcoholic cure. It was part of his family estate that he
take the cure and he would get his share. Ten thousand dollars, allot
of money in the late forties. We living in an unheated house with
boarded up windows. But the mortgage was caught up. He bought a "1948"
Buick. The first car we ever had other than his ten ton coal truck no
longer used for work and we were off to Knox Berry farm.
But there was one stop along the way. Mom as an orphan lived with this
girl she called her sister. The littlest Angel's mother. This cute
little girl was sitting on my lap. I was reading her stories some I made
up. Quite possibly my first poetry. Found on my site somewhere. Out of the
quiet there was shouting and arguing. Dad was drinking again. Arguing
against the war he was too much a coward to fight in. Mom came in the room
she had been hit again. We were told to leave and never come back. On the
way out of town we stopped at the Golden Gate Bridge. Grandpa was driving
and Dad was sleeping off his drunk in the backseat. Mom said I should put a
note in a bottle as she had done as a little girl. I tossed the bottle off
the bridge
THE LITTLEST ANGEL
"Don't go Dandy!"
"When I grow up I am going to marry you!"
But I would never see her again
Except as I write this on my shoulder
I was crying as I tossed the note
"Please God make me big!"
Asked God to come rescue us from Dad
The note did not come back you see
Maybe still out there floating in the sea
God answers in his own time-frame
About a month after our return Mom came
from the mailbox with tears in her eyes
The perfect Shirley Temple hair was a wig.
The littlest Angel was dying of leukemia.
The reason we stopped on Lombard street in
San Francisco. Her last words to her mother
in the letter, "Tell Dandy I will wait for
him in Heaven."
The first time I challenge my father I was
still a little boy. I lost badly. Mom and I
rode together in an ambulance. I was in a coma for hours.
Mom was standing by my bed her head in bandages.
Because of this she divorced my father. For a few years
he disappeared.I was fifteen when he reappeared. Broke in our
backdoor. I was no longer a child at fifteen and I regret not
taking him on as a man. But I held a rifle. My sister handed
it to me I was challenging him man to man. I pulled the trigger as he ran.
The gun was misloaded and did not fire.
So you see the note in the bottle
God answers in his time his own way
I may have been in prison as I write this
The message I left in the bottle
"What well ever become of me God?"
For it was written by a very young boy
Thinking there was no way out of his misery
I joined the Washington National Guard
Four years service in the Air Force
I would never be the coward as my father
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