"My Sweet Willie".........a short story .................by Diane Ogden

"Sweet Willie" 

I was there.  I was there when the radio blared war in our kitchen. We were seated at the table about to say a blessing upon the thick, I think German, macaroni and cheese casserole Mom had prepared.  We, being my brother Jackson, and I, Julianna.

When Father held up his notorious hand it always meant, SILENCE!  That is when we heard the voice of the President of the United States coming across the radio airways with the chill of an icicle on each word he spoke. 

I kept interrupting saying, “Father, does that mean Willie, does it?  Will he have to go?” 

Dad just gave me that old angry I mean it eyebrow crunch, hand up signal. I sat in silence listening to the terrifying words.  My mind racing in so many different directions I lost myself to the place of tears.  Mom was standing behind  Jackson, her baby, crying in like manner.  At first I wasn’t mentally aware of what was happening.  The radio, Fathers anger, Mom crying, Willie, where was Willie?  And to hell with the macaroni and cheese dinner.  I suddenly sprang from my chair running toward the phone.  I lifted the mouthpiece only to find the operator telling everyone they would have to wait their turns. Then a sound that mimicked busy busy busy.  Running or even biking to Willie’s would be faster than waiting for the darn operator.  Once my wits were back I realized those phones would not be available for a month now that war had been declared.  That is when I heard the loud whaling voice of my mother behind me.  “Julianna, wait.  Wait.”  I ignored her and with one hard push I hit the pavement running.  Running to Willie.

Willie and I had been best friends all through grade school and into Jr. High School and High School. We had been through all the normal schoolyard games such as marbles, hoops, skipping, chasing's, hidings. Sometimes I would join the girls for hopscotch and jacks.  Willie would play ball and chase.  We even ate lunch together almost every day.  The other children made fun of us the first few years and then settled in knowing it was probably always going to be this way.  Willie and Julianna. 

Now I am not just running.  I am running scared.  Running for my life.  For Willie.  At the 4^th Street Exchange I saw him.  I saw Willie running just as hard and fast as I was.  He had to have heard the news about the same time we all did and as usual we had the same thoughts.  Finding each other.  I fell into his arms sobbing.  We both knew he would have to go fight a war we were too young to know much about.  We would soon realize he was a direct part of it and I was a direct extension of it and all the pain that comes with war.  We walked slowly back to my house arm in arm and the closer we got, it became clear the shadow standing at the front door was my mother waiting for me.  Her remarks were swift and harsh.  She found my interest in Willie overshadowing the fact my own brother would also be leaving.  And possibly our Father.  She was right.  I hadn’t thought beyond my Willie. 

And then he was gone.  I would sing to my Sweet Willie for the next forty years until I would finally meet him in the great beyond.

 I'll be comin home to you Sweet Willie,

I'm comin home to you..

Please don't fear Sweet Willie,

The Time is near,

I'm coming home to you...

For the War is old and forgotten by many...

 It took you from me too soon..

So be patient dear and please do not fear...

I'm comin home to you....

 We have a love that's forever and deep as the sea,

With eagerness I await thee...

Be it death or life, be it you or me...

I'm comin home to you...

 Where the valley light meets the dusk of day,

I'm comin home to you....

 I will never stop till the day is nay...

Where I meet you on the other side...

Be it floods or famine or a gunshot wound,

I welcome the end in sight.

 For my love is like the ocean deep

For it brings us always for keeps....

I'll be comin home to you sweet Willie,

I'm comin home to you...

 When the grass is green and the fields are yellow..

I'll be comin home to you....

I’ll be comin home to you… Sweet Willie

(Photo from WWII The Huffington Post)  I wrote the above short story and the song.  I sing it often and have for many years.  I do believe I lived this story in my past.  And I do believe I will be going home to my Willie some day.  There is but a veil between reality and the typed words from my heart.

Fixing all the errors.

I have taken some time off my blog to work on fixing all the errors in my fun little book.  The Cardboard Box.
And there were certainly a lot of them.   Sometimes I like to just sit down and write what comes into my head.  Later is the time to correct.  Although I dragged a few of you along with me this time. 
I'll be back, hopefully with some of my old humorous blog posts. 

Chapters messed up...

I know I have my chapters numbers off. 
Decided not to make a Part II.  Just haven't fixed it yet.
One more chapter to end Part I.......Working on it!

REDONE: Part II Chapter Three....................property of Diane Ogden

I insisted Billy drop me off at a little motel a couple miles down from the Club.  And Billy insisted he either come in or he would sleep in his truck outside my motel room door for he wouldn't be having me deserted twice in one night.  He concurred that in the morning he would take me to get Duke and then drive me back to Pamela's pad.  Even summer nights can get real chilly on the coastal side of Texas.  Having said that, Billy whoever he was slept in his truck.  After all half the night had already passed.  I did throw him a pillow and blanket from the second story balcony.  I felt a tad bit badly about not letting him into my room, but shucks, I didn't even know that man's last name.  I mean, he appeared to be a well spoken young man, but again, who ever really knows a stranger.  Not me!  Billy could have been an ax murderer and chopped me up into a million little pieces and threw my little pieces into the ocean with heavy rocks surrounding me in his self made for me body bag. 

Sometimes my imagination took off like a Texas Jack Rabbit running from a lightning bolt. The wandering thoughts usually happened when I was bored, or really just about anytime now that I think about it.

I was having trouble falling asleep knowing that Billy was outside sleeping in his truck.  Adding to that fact, I was worried that Pamela could be in trouble somehow somewhere.  Added to that, I was also hoping Duke was doing alright and not missing me or frightened. And to top all that off, I began imagining someone might break into my room and chop me up. That is when I fell into a deep exhausted sleep.  Next thing I heard was a pounding on my door so loud my dead great aunt was surely awoken from the dirt she was laid to rest in.  I leaped from the covers and carefully peeled back a corner of the insulated drapes so as to not let whoever was doing such a bang up deal outside my door, see me!  Surprise Surprise!  It was Billy whoever he was.  And behind him was the Texas sun bearing down brightly upon my crack in the curtains.  What time was it.  I shouted to Billy to stop with the banging alright already.  Jeez Louise.  I checked my watch and I was late to pick up Duke.  Those insulated motel curtains allowed me an extra couple hours sleep.  There was no time to shower, brush my teeth, or anything.  I threw my clothes on, grabbed my purse and out the door I flew, at which time Billy said someone had turned him in as a loiterer.  Turned out the owners called the police who came and told him to get up and get on his way.  That is when he came pounding on my door like a jackhammer doing serious business to a cement curb! 

We arrived at the Allen's where Duke had spent the night.   I could hear him barking but I couldn't make out where the sounds were coming from.  Oh God I hope they didn't leave him in the basement alone.  Or maybe they put him in the garage, or tied to a tree, alone and outside all night.  Or, or..... and there I went again.   Extreme imagination off the charts Julianna.   I rang the doorbell all the while mentally preparing my so sorry for being late speech.   No answer.  I rang again.  No answer.
Duke was barking!  I needed to get my dog and he needed me also.   Billy looked at me and I looked at Billy and then again.  He asked me what I felt I should do now.  I said I didn't have a dang clue and by the way what is your last name Billy Boy?  He informed me he hated the name Billy Boy and please don't refer to him as that ever again.  And then told me his last name was Connolly.  William Boyd Connolly.  I was impressed. Not only was he polite, he exercised chivalry.  He could dance, he was handsome, and he drove an out of sight truck.  I recall felling my next inquiry should have been as to what his job in life was.  Or maybe not.  I would be leaving very soon for other parts of the country so Billy Boy would be just another person I had met in my journey to Los Angeles.

Bill and I decided to check around the back yard which entailed climbing one short gate that led through the carport and then a more serious shimmy up a very tall fence line.   For some reason Billy's chivalry went over and above fence lines.  He hollered back to me that Duke was there but then I knew that considering Dukes continuous barking.   That is when the guttural sounds from man and dog hit the airwaves of my consciousness to a stage of danger sounds.  I shouted, "What is going on?"  Just then Billy came flying over the top of that fence with the rear end of his nice looking western slacks torn and hanging about his hot bum.  Wow, I commented.  But wait, Duke wouldn't ever do anything like that I didn't think, but then again I wasn't totally sure.  Billy informed me there was another very large and unkind animal guarding Duke who was passively laying by the back door.  In other words that wasn't Duke barking after all.  Now what, I thought.  But no words would come out of my mouth.  I just wanted my dog, my pink Cadillac and my money.  Seemed to be a continuing issue with me lately.

Billy found me a piece of paper to write the Allen's a note.  I left it in the mailbox as I figured they would not be entering their home through the front door. More likely the carport door behind the locked gate.  I was climbing into the Chevy when I noticed a car pull into the Allen's driveway, and behind that car were two Houston City Police cruisers.   I had about enough of the Johnny Law this past month.   I began searching for my brown paper bag considering I was gulping air.  That same danged air I gulped crossing the Mississippi and the same danged air I gulped through the last tornadic storm.  Billy asked me what in the world I was doing?   Just then the fuzz opened his drivers side door, yanked him out, exposed his hot bum and threw him on the ground.  I was next!!  I opened my passenger side door and screamed, "WAIT!"   That is when all at the same time I was thrown onto the ground, while Mr. Allen was also screaming, "WAIT! WAIT, I know her, I have her dog!"
Somehow at that moment those pigs weren't into listening. 

Turns out the neighbors called Mr. Allen at work, who in turn called the local Lawmen who in turn felt them needed to manhandle two young people.  My Lord those policemen each must have weighed near 300 pounds each.  At least one of the four knees between them had punctured my rear side.  Finally after some minutes of tussling and handcuffing Billy and I, the two hee-men pigs stopped long enough to listen.  Mr. Allen was apologizing up one side and down Billy's backside.  Yet after a few minutes of that nonsense, he got real serious and asked us why the hell we climbed his secure fence line.  I told him I had overslept at a motel because my friend deserted me over at the Fools Gold Night Club on Westheimer.  I didn't have your address with me so this kind young man drove me to my motel, slept outside in his truck, drove me here this morning to get Duke only to find no one home.  So we decided to climb the fence and get Duke and leave you a note.  But.....
Mr. Allen said, "But you got a surprise, right?  I see by the looks of your friends britches my guard dog Nitro had introduced himself."  

"Yes Sir." I said.

The officers unlocked the cuffs on Billy and I at which time the pig that was in charge of my personal being extended his hand to shake.  I swear by the light of day here we go again.  Throw me down, beat me up, put your knee in my buttock, handcuff me too tightly, and then want to be my best friendly acquaintance.  Just brought back Daddy J Bar J Oil and Cattleman to the front and center of my minds eye.  This time I did shake Johnny Law's hand because it was the smart thing to do considering my recent run of luck.  One never knows when one might need the fuzz, even a very large fuzz man. 

As the officers drove out of sight, Mr. Allen retrieved Duke for me.  And at that same moment I noticed Billy staring at me like I was, "Mirror mirror on the wall, whose the baddest of them all? Me!"  He said not one word.  Just stood there staring with his plaid boxers exposed behind the torn once hot western pants.  I started to say, "I'm so sorr......"  when Duke leaped up onto me licking and crying like an abandoned child at his first day of kindergarten!  I sat down on the grass and held Duke with love and adoration until he calmed down.  I assured him I would not leave him for a very long ever again.  Or at least until we had a more secure life. 

Okay, Okay Billy said.  I get it now!   That is some terrific dog you got there Missy.  I agreed as Duke leaped into the truck, sat down and waited for us to follow. Next up we headed for Pamela's pad.  I had forgotten that was still to be dealt with.  Billy made a pit stop at his house for a quick shower and a change of clothing.  Duke made himself comfortable on the very large studded leather sofa while I admired the artwork and other various unique items everywhere the eyes looked.  Whoa Cowboy, what and where do you come from I thought.  Just then Billy who know looked more like a Bill came trotting down the stairs ready to roll.  And so we did without so much as a word from me regarding the near mansion we just drove away from.  I was afraid to ask for fear he might say he was an oil and cattle man.  I had been to that rodeo before and wasn't ready for another one like the last one, if ever....

Monsanto’s Dirty Dozen: The 12 Most Awful Products Made By Monsanto

Monsanto’s Dirty Dozen: The 12 Most Awful Products Made By Monsanto

Writing These Chapters for a Reason..............by Diane Ogden

I have written two novels only to discover I am the Queen of passive voice sentences.  And the Queen of past and present tense confusion.  
This said, please note I am writing this little or big story to PRACTICE past and present tense writing.
Forget the Passive Voice......someone else can do that one for me.   I do wish I could remember Mrs. Covington's English Lit class.  Retention was always an issue for me.  So here I am writing repetitively every day so I can "get it" down pat.  Then go back and fix the novels.  One at a time.
Thank you for any input at all.  Just be nice.  
Diane O

This is an Article written about my Son in L.A. .................by dlakerev.com

http://dlakerev.com/all-american-cody-ogden/