The Other Side Of The Woods

I took the taxi to the only diner in Neville Township, where I grew up. The township was a long line of houses and small businesses, and on either side were acres of trees.

"Why, hello, Bobby," I hear a screechy voice-Tommy Compton, one of the kids in school who couldn't stop harassing me.

"You're not leaving," Tommy screeched some more. "You're gonna stay here, and I'm gonna keep beating you!"

I strode towards the Township Diner, then turned and said, "You're not in prison yet?"

I been there!" he announced and smiled. "I can take it and you can't!"

I went inside the diner and ordered a coffee; there was the Reverend Stephen Leary, who pastored the church across the street from the diner.

"Hey, Bobby," he tells me, "what brings you back home?"

This phased me-I've been living in Philadelphia for decades, and that's been "home" to me. "Reverend Steve," I said, "I just was curious about how things are here, if there's any changes."

"Can't say there's much new," Molly, the waitress chimed in, her red hair pulled up tight. "People just get older here. There's nobody new."

"Want to come to the church?" asks Reverend Steve, "we're having the weekly prayer meeting. You might find some familiar faces."

"I remember some of them," I reply, " and I couldn't get any respect from any of them. everything I did or said was a joke for them."

I bent my head down and said, lifting my head up, "I swore I'd never come back here, after the way they treated me and my family." I paused, then asked, "Are they any different now?"

"Come in and see," said Reverend Steve.

We crossed the street to the church; inside was a group of people, many with gray-white hair, bent over their bibles.

""Folks," said Reverend Steve, "you remember Bobby Holton, Arnie's son?"

They grunted 'Um-hum," and I sat at one of the pews.

The bible verse Reverend Steve discussed was the one where Jesus enters the Temple and chases out the money-changers, knocking over their tables. Then Reverend Steve, asked, "Any discussion?"

Kevin Merton spoke-he was always the pious kid in Sunday School, and he had fun lecturing me about being a Christian.

"It's not good to chase after material success," he stared. "It's not god to go after the things of the World, like what Bobby's been doing."

"Excuse me?" I stood up and snapped.

"Bobby's too deep in the World," Kevin said, "and he needs to accept Jesus as his personal Lord and Savior."

"Okay, so I made something of myself," I declared, "you don't like that, do you?"

Mrs. Merton, Keith's mother, pulled herself to her feet and said, "Bobby, you should have been happy just to be a good Christian. You were always such a daydreamer, wanting to do big things."

"Yeah, and you always laughed about it, like it was a joke," I snapped. "I talked about wanting to go into law, and you laughed!"

"We just wanted you to accept reality," Kevin said.

"Whose reality, yours? I nearly shouted. I had enough; I jumped up and walked out of the church.

"Folks, folks," Reverend Steve announced, "let's stop yelling at thee other, not in the house of God."

The service ended, and we gathered around a table for snacks. I munched on some chips while Kevin said, "Bobby, do you accept Jesus?"

"Kev," I stated, "I don't have to answer that question."

"That means you haven't," he replied, all wide-eyed and innocent. I turned my back on him.

"This world is not my home, I'm only passing through," I heard Kevin's voice singing that song he sang once, at the Easter Sunrise service.

"Kev," I said, "didn't you throw pebbles at me during Vacation Bible School?"

"You couldn't just laugh it off, like a Christian would?"

"So, Kev," I asked, "What have you been up to?"

He smiled and said, "I lost my job at the hardware store. I don' t need it."

"You don't need the pay?"

"I'm happy living with my mom," he replied, "and I got Jesus. I don't need live in luxury, like you do."

I looked at him; "You don't like me being successful, do you?"

"I'm happy where I am," he replied, grinning. "Wouldn't you be better off coming back to stay?"

I turned and walked towards Mrs. Pollard, a widowed lady with a beautiful mane of white hair.

"Bobby, what have you been up to?" she asked.

"I've been active in the publishing field," I replied, my voice having pride. I'm now Editor of my firm's website."

"What do you mean, website?" she asked, like she heard something strange.

"You know, the internet," I responded.

"Honey, I don't know what you're talking about."

I inhaled, and ask, "Mrs. Pollard, don't you know what's happening in the world?"

"Bobby, honey, I'm ninety years old," she responded. "I lived here my whole life. I never wanted to be involved in the world. All I want to do is wait 'till I see Jesus."

I got outside, and I crossed the street to the diner. I saw Tommy Compton lying up against what used to be Belzer's hardware Store, and now has the words "Happy Wheels Bicycle Shoppe." I asked myself, "When did that happen?"

"Molly," I asked, "could you call a taxi for me please? And a cup of coffee?"

"Okay, hon," she replies.

I looked out the window; I finally notice a clear patch in the wooded area that has always been there, and some steel beams planted in the ground. I ask, "Molly, what's going on there?"

"They're building a shopping mall there," Molly replies, "a lot of New York people have moved here."

"It'll bring a lot of job to the township," Officer McNulty, of the township police said, adding, ""we need it here."

"They'll know about this town," another man said, wearing worn Dickies work clothes.

"How can I forget that?" Molly sighed. "These things creep up on you, like you don't see them coming."

I drank my coffee; change would come to the township, whether they like it or not.