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Dear Reader,

Hello. My name is Linda. If you've read the kinds of books most kids have, you'll probably end up feeling that my role in this story is the "fairy godmother" of Lindsay and Sammy.

It's true I love them and help them and I appear to them from out of nowhere. But I am most assuredly NOT their fairy godmother. I am simply myself. And I came from . . .

Well, you'll see soon enough. Now, about the two sweet kids, Lindsay and Sammy.

Lindsay is 8 and is in 3rd grade at the Phil M. Fullabean's Elementary School. She is very lively and brave and fun. And sometimes "hard to manage." At least that's what her school and parents think. I don't. I think she's perfect exactly as she is. Her spirit is one of the most lovely things about this young lady. Her blond hair and brown eyes and impish grin all contribute to her loveliness. Lindsay is quite Alive!

Some parents and teachers like only quiet, orderly, obedient, robot-like kids. They might find Lindsay not "appealing" but "trying." Or downright frustrating. You see, she isn't about to be tied down or "managed." Isn't it funny how she can be seen as lovable by same people and aggravating or "bad" by others?

Sammy is 8 and he's also nearly 9, which is a good kind of 8 to be if you often wish you'd hurry up and get to be 16 or 18 so that you could run your own life. He's in the 3rd grade also. He has brown hair and brown eyes. Sammy is very bright. This means he can be very sly. He can make people think he's feeling one way when he's actually feeling another. He doesn't WISH to be dishonest, mind you. But sometimes he gets punished for letting people see how he really feels.

After all, a person can't help how he FEELS! No amount of punishment will make him quit feeling that way. What the spankings do is to make him feel angry and hurt and guilty and afraid IN ADDITION TO feeling the very same way he started out feeling!

So Sammy uses his brains to make his surroundings more pleasant. He isn't a "liar." He feels he is a good kid. He knows darn well that he doesn't DESERVE most of the ill-treatment that comes his way, so he finds clever ways to avoid most of it.

Even animals want to survive and be happy, and when things get rough they find ways to avoid dangerous or even just unpleasant surroundings.

Sammy and Lindsay are brother and sister and live under constant fear of their dad having another one of his "bad days." When he does, he takes it out on his wife and kids both. So clever Sammy is often trying to keep himself and Lindsay out of trouble. And that's the way it happens.

They need each other. Lindsay needs Sammy to help keep her from getting punished so often. He knows when to calm her down around parents and teachers. Sammy thinks too much sometimes. He needs Lindsay to help "pull him out of his brain," where it is easy for him to hide. He is secure there. But if Sammy lives out of his brain too much of the time he can really get confused:

He might start BELIEVING that the "good little robot" act he puts on is really him. And that would make him stop feeling happy and alive. They sure feel lucky that they ended up as brother and sister. They are very affectionate and trusting with each other, are the best of pals, and have oodles of fun together.

Whenever things get rough at home, Sammy and Lindsay retreat to one of their "forts." These are little spaces the kids have created where they can go to do their own thing, without anyone bothering them. They have big imaginations, and at their forts they can make all their fantasies be true.

Fort No. 1 is their tree house, which Lindsay has fallen out of twice. Well, not really twice. The second time she had on a cape and was being "Supergirl." But broken arms are often part of growing up.

Fort No. 2 is their camp, which is a little cleared-out spot hidden by some trees and bushes in the park nearby. It has a ring of rocks and a little pit where they roast marshmallows at times. It is a block away and they often have to sneak off to it because their father thinks they'll "get into less trouble" if they stay on the block. It is very peaceful at their camp.

Fort No. 3 is the attic hideaway. They'd walled off a little section of the attic with junk, so that they would have to crawl through a maze of boxes and trunks and furniture just to end up in their private little spot. It feels very secure and cozy there. It is a great place to hide when dad "has a bad day." Call and threaten as he might, they never give away their hideaway.

Fort No. 4 is the closet of their room.

They live in a small inexpensive house in a small inexpensive neighborhood. It has only 2 bedrooms. Mom and dad use the downstairs one, and the kids use the upstairs one. Dad is planning to build another bedroom within the next year—something about it "not being healthy for little boys and girls to share the same room."

Now this unexplained decision is very upsetting to both Sammy and Lindsay. They are terribly fond of one another and this threat of separating them because it is "bad for them to be together" feels like the ultimate proof of what they'd always felt. One: Dad is off his rocker. Two: It is unfair that children have to be helpless victims of dumb decisions made by adults.

He never asks THEM what THEIR feelings on the matter are! And if there is ONE thing in THEIR world that they are totally certain of, it is that it is perfectly right for them to be close to each other!

These sudden decisions seem so unfair that they have begun discussing plans to run away together in their secret forts. Just yesterday they'd gone to Mars to discuss it. You see, the closet is whatever they WANT it to be. And it was a spaceship yesterday.

Anyway, dad is okay a lot of the time. But then he goes and . . . YOU know. Every family has not-so-nice things about it, as I'm sure you've noticed. I know this too, because I can . . . well, you'll see later. Kids almost ALWAYS end up drying tears and asking themselves: "Why does it have to be this way?" A few kids run away. Most kids daydream about it at times.

When dad is good part of the time and hateful part of the time, it's very confusing to Sammy and Lindsay. They wonder if they are "bad" or if they're just unlucky. It's a good thing Sammy is around to help Lindsay figure this one out, or she'd be very likely to start believing that she is a "bad" person, with all the punishments she gets or nearly gets.

Mom is such a nice lady. She never picks on the kids like dad sometimes does. But she also never stops him if he begins picking on her or the kids. She is a fine lady in the affection department, but lacks plenty in the strength department. Lindsay and Sammy are very fond of her. But when she starts making "excuses" for "daddy's behavior," or when she talks about "his rough day at the office," they often politely excuse themselves and go to one of their forts.

So you can SEE how lucky the kids are to have each other.

At school they both do well. Lindsay is no dummy—she is quite smart. Her spirit is stronger than her brain, but that speaks for the largeness of her spirit, not the smallness of her brain. The teachers have her in and out of the principal's office because she is TOO lively for their tastes. But she has great fun playing with the other kids at school.

Sammy manages to stay out of trouble except for the times when he is a "smarty-pants" to the teachers, or when he plays one of his little tricks. He does things like hide the assignment book. The assignments are simple enough, but he just doesn't like someone telling him what he "should" do without ever asking HIM about it.

Now, Lindsay and Sammy are reaching an important point in their lives. More and more pressure is coming down upon them to be and act ways that don't feel right to them. They feel like they are backed up against a wall.

Their support of one another's feelings is the only thing that has "saved them" so far. It helps that mom is nice to them and at times even reads stories to them. But mom's affection doesn't protect the 2 lovable kids against dad's "bad days." Nor does she ever support them when they are up against unnecessary pressures from school.

So Sammy and Lindsay are on their own. A brave team with its back to the wall, making a last stand, trying not to give in to all these forces, fighting against pressures to become "good little robots," and trying to live by their feelings rather than letting themselves feel ONLY "what they SHOULD feel."

So now you have a view of the lives, feelings, and truths of Lindsay, Sammy, their family, their school, and the ever-increasing challenge that life has brought them.

Will this wonderful Dynamic Duo end up different from the way most people seem to end up, or . . . ?

Love, Linda

 

 

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O nce upon a time there was a little boy and a little girl.
The boy's name was Sammy. The girl's name was Lindsay. They were lovable children, and very close. Like right now, for example:

"Let's let it go!" shouted Sammy, who was at the main dam. It was already full.

"No, not yet!" returned Lindsay, who was still building up the 2 minor dams up-"river." They loved playing "dam." The old leaves in the gutter made perfect dams for the rainwater if you built them up right. It had been raining off and on for 2 days and this morning it was really pouring. The air smelled fresh and clean.

All the gutters of the town of Plainville were full of water, and the water just couldn't wait to rush along until it poured into the nearest storm drain. Lindsay and Sammy loved the whooshing sound that it made when it poured into the hungry mouths of the storm drains.

To most of the townsfolk, these April rains meant good crops, wet clothes, cleaner cars, muddy shoes, and more TV. But to some of the kids, especially Lindsay and Sammy, it meant fun!

They were sure glad it was Sunday, because otherwise they would have been sitting in school, fidgeting and hoping it would still be raining when they got out.

"How 'bout now?" called Sammy, who was eager for "The dam is bursting!"

Which is exactly what Lindsay suddenly screamed.

They both ran back upstream to the first and second little dams. Sammy "blew up" the first one, causing a small deluge of water to come pouring down the gutter, crashing into dam No. 2, which Lindsay helped the onrushing water burst.

The combined water from both dams was now rushing for the main dam, threatening to burst it as well!

"Neato!" screamed Lindsay, as the tidal wave of water rushed mercilessly into the big dam. Both kids had run full speed to the big dam and were all ready to help the wave do its best, AND worst! They both pounced, at just the right moment, on the main dam and now a torrent of flood-water descended upon the "unsuspecting town down the valley from the main dam."

The "mens and ladies" were hit without warning by the flood, but giants Sammy and Lindsay managed to save most of them from drowning. They still called these little toy store people what they did when they were 3 years old. And they still played with them. Because it was fun.

All of a sudden from out of a bush flew a three-inch rubber man wearing a cape. It was Superman to the rescue! Supergirl flew out of another bush, and the two flying three-inch Superheroes rushed for the second town about to be deluged by the dam-waters. There were only four people in that leaf-hill town, and at the very moment the flood came down upon them, each superhero grabbed two people and flew them safely to high ground. The townspeople were saved!

Lindsay and Sammy cheered and sighed and giggled happily. They loved being the cause of things, and loved setting things up the way they wanted them, with no teachers or parents telling them about what they "should do."

Eventually "dam-bursting" wore out, so they retreated to the house, put their slickers and rain hats and boots neatly in the hall, and had crunchy-creamy-yummy peanut-butter-and-cracker sandwiches, washed down with milk.

Since no one was around, they did their "music ritual." They blasted a "neat" radio station and danced around the living room in dance-trances, sort of like they were floating in zero gravity like those Space Lab guys had done on TV.

This particular ritual was one of those secret and special parts of their lives. They couldn't do it very often, because dad would forbid it. And even if only mom had been home, this was a secret ritual, and they had no intention of showing it to her or anyone.

The loud wild rhythms and pretty chords combined to make them feel like they were weightless, or "drunk" or something. They whirled, floated, danced and rolled around until they were exhausted.

"Isn't it neato to have all this room to dance in, Sammy?" puffed Lindsay.

"I'll say. No interference!" replied Sammy. It was quite a word for an 8-year-old, except for one thing: Sammy was very bright, and was reading at the 8th grade level. But whenever his teachers started talking about moving him up a grade or two, since he was so smart, a very strange thing happened: Sammy became dumb! But this was no accident.

Sammy knew that his super-spirited sister Lindsay would be in no end of trouble if he wasn't in her class with her. He was her . . . "brake pedal." And he loved her and preferred being in the same grade as she was. In addition, he knew that he'd always get called "that little smarty" if he was moved to a higher grade. He got picked on enough at home. So he wasn't going to be teased at school too, if he could help it.

Besides he always read whatever books he wanted. He didn't need to be in a higher grade to read what he found interesting.

Sammy remembered sitting in the principal's office, looking at the faces of his teacher and principal as they urged him to get moved up a grade. These two "adults" were so sure that they knew what was best for him. They tried to make him feel like a silly, foolish kid who couldn't possibly know what he preferred.

It had made Sammy angry. But he didn't let it show—he was too smart. He knew getting mad could get him in even more trouble.

Why couldn't adults understand? Why were they so blind and dumb? Couldn't they see how terribly unhappy he would be if he suddenly had to put up with two or three times as much pressure or two or three times as much getting picked on, or both? They were so darn sure of themselves, so positive that they were right! Why didn't they care about how he felt?

Sammy was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, remembering things: Sure he knew it would help him "learn" faster if they moved him up! Sure he knew he'd be able to feel "proud" of himself for being so "gifted" (what a word!). And he could get to high school a year or two before everyone else in his class! But SO WHAT?

This was just school-talk; it was all just words. What about his feelings? Yes, there it was again. This was where all these "adults" were just plain dumb. How could they know so much about some things, but also be so dumb about others?!

Lindsay didn't like to see Sammy sad. So after giving him time to get done with his thinking, she sat on his stomach and held down his arms and said playfully:

"Come on—I see your face." No response. Her hand played mousy and walked around on his chest.

"Here comes the mousy—here comes the mousy—come on, Samwich, I see your face!" The mousy found an armpit and his face found a smile and she tickled and giggled and suddenly he came to life . . . and the wrestling match was on . . .

 

It was Friday. They were walking home from school. It was five blocks. They were worried. They hadn't really been bad, and they knew it, but the teacher thought so. They'd felt good about finally saying how they felt about something important. It felt good to let it out. And yet, with the truth would come the consequences.

The other kids in their class thought they "were just asking for it," as Tommy had put it after school.

And the teacher knew they were asking for it. So she gave it to them. First a scolding, which they let go in one ear and out the other, as usual.

But the note: that had to go home to their parents. Mom would understand. But dad . . . They were wondering out loud to each other if the teacher would send home notes if she knew the way dad was. They supposed not.

Anyway, to make a long story short, they both got a beating that night after dad came home. He was having one of his "bad days" and they tried hard to stay away from him, but it didn't work!

Later, while they were on Sammy's bed comforting each other and drying their tears, mom came up and told them that she was sorry it happened and "they just needed to turn the other cheek and realize that everyone has his bad days."

"That was an awful spanking to get just because of that dumb note," Sammy sobbed into his mother's comforting arm.

"Uh . . . no, dear, he . . . he hasn't seen it yet . . . " mom corrected.

They might have known it! It was just another unreasonable misery at the hands of mean old dad! He usually used something for an "excuse." This time he hadn't bothered to invent one.

"Are you gonna . . . ?" began Lindsay, looking up worriedly at her mother.

"You know I have to show it to him, hon. I can't be dishonest with him," mom answered.

"Oooohhh! You don't understand!" Lindsay hollered at her mother, and then turned over on the bed—with her back to her.

"Lin, I love you . . . you know that . . . but I just can't . . . I can't . . . I shouldn't . . . "

"Go away, mom," Lindsay sighed deadly.

After a bit more discussion, consisting mostly of excuse-making and "go away," mom left. Just before she got to the door she reminded them:

"You know, a person can't change the way things are. Whatever is, is. You just have to make the best of it."

Sammy felt a nasty tension. He was watching his angry sister eyeball the alarm clock and knew that she was on the verge of firing it at the door mom had just closed. He knew he'd have to—

Her arm lunged. Sammy pounced on her before she had a chance to throw it.

"No, no—don't, Lindsay!" Sammy frantically whispered. He felt her relax her grip, and he turned her around and cuddled her and she began to sob. It wasn't like her to cry so much. Part of him felt like he was cuddling himself as well as his lovable but unhappy sister.

Hoping that he'd be too guilty to hit them anymore so soon after the spankings, their mother handed the note to her husband immediately. It read:

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jones,

Your children were a bit unmanageable in school today. I

believe I have everything under control now, however.

Yours very truly,

Evelyn Liverwurst"

Dad was too interested in a Gunsmoke rerun to give the note too much notice. He merely shouted at the top of his lungs for a half minute, without even turning his head in the direction of the stairway that led up to their room. He let them know that they weren't going out of their room for the whole weekend, except to eat or use the toilet.

So here they were, grounded, with a beautiful warm Spring weekend in May coming up tomorrow. Why was life so hateful?

Lindsay was remembering the incident at school. Mrs. Liverwurst had asked Sammy to give a state capital. He'd given it to her but then had started to politely suggest that it might be real interesting for everyone if all the kids got a chance to say what they wanted to learn, in addition to having to learn stuff like state capitals, since they seemed like such a waste of time. But before Sammy or anyone else got a chance to say what it was he or she wanted to learn, Sammy was hauled up to the desk and scolded for calling his studies a "waste of time."

She simply couldn't contain herself. Lindsay had stood up, and without raising her hand had said:

"Mrs. Liverwurst, I'd like to learn about people, about what causes hate, and—"

"Sit down this instant, young lady!" scolded the already-scolding teacher.

"But I would!!" shouted Lindsay, who unfortunately punctuated this sentence with a flying geography book, which hit the blackboard and tumbled to the floor.

What a scolding she received for that! And what a strong right arm our Lindsay has!

 

That night they slept in Lindsay's bed together, holding each other and feeling like the world was against them. Just before either child was asleep, a very strange thing happened. A very spooky thing.

Sammy and Lindsay were facing the paneled wall on the east side of the room. Lindsay's arms were around Sammy, who was in front of her. She was nearly asleep, but a tiny sliding noise (or was it her imagination?) forced open her eyes. She looked at the wall and imagined (?) she saw a panel open and a wispy, hazy, ghostlike face appear for a second. A smiling, sweet, lovely female face. She started to move her right arm in order to awaken Sammy, but the "spirit" was gone in a flash. There was nothing to show him. She thought she heard faint, distant, bubbling laughter.

The strangest part of this was that Sammy was facing the same direction, almost asleep; and he also heard the noise, opened his eyes, and saw or imagined he saw the very same thing!

The next morning Lindsay woke Sammy up and asked him with restrained excitement if anything unusual had happened to him last night. He wiped the cobwebs out of his eyes and looked at her and thought for a moment. Then he told her about the ghost-lady. Lindsay's hands fondled and explored the soft, sleek border on the pink blanket they were beneath, as she listened to his response with amazement.

"Me too! It happened to me too!" exclaimed Lindsay. She was very excited. Sammy was confused. He wanted to make sense out of it. He wanted to understand.

"If we both saw it, it simply couldn't be imagination, Lindsay," he stated.

"You mean—it really happened?!" asked Lindsay, eyes widened in astonishment.

"It's the only explanation. Oh gosh, that—that means we saw a ghost! That means there are ghosts!" Sammy was excited too.

"Oh neato, Samwich! Ghosts! Real ghosts!" And with this she hugged Sammy and rolled around on the bed with him chuckling delightedly.

"Wait a second . . . " and Sammy was suddenly staring at the ceiling as if recalling something. "What did you dream last night, Q.T.?" (This was short for "cutie" and Sammy used it affectionately at times.)

Lindsay thought hard but couldn't remember.

"Well, I dreamed I was in a really neat family and everyone just loved everyone ever so much, and there were lots of moms and dads to be with and I was so happy, and . . . and the dream ended by sort of melting . . . or bursting into . . . into . . . a bunch . . . no, a shower of golden rain!" Sammy recalled. "And I woke up crying, Lindsay."

"Oh Sammy, that's beautiful, why that's the neatest dream you ever . . . you . . . I . . . I . . . Sammy! I HAD IT TOO!" Lindsay shout-whispered this frantically to her brother, and the two of them looked at each other wide-eyed and open-mouthed. They grabbed one another's hands and looked into each other's eyes.

"Lindsay . . . what . . . " began Sammy.

"What's going on, Sammy?" Lindsay finished it for him. At this they just cuddled, looked at the magic ghost-place on the wall and let their imaginations run wild.

Sammy had read Sherlock Holmes, young as he was, and he had a feel for elementary logic. He stayed lost in thought for around 20 minutes, during which time his sister-pal was doing some thinking of her own and was wise enough not to distract him.

"Listen, kiddo, here's what I've been thinking," explained Sammy. "Now, we've been listening to our teachers tell us that all we're gonna learn about is state capitals and stuff. And our mom tells us we're stuck with dad's meanness forever and we can't do anything about it. And our dad tells us we're gonna be moved apart soon for our 'own good.' And we're just kids and we're supposed to listen to this stuff."

He went on, looking very serious:

"Now look at this: They all told us there are no ghosts. And yet, now we know different. We couldn't both imagine the exact same ghost at the same time! Even us 'dumb little kids' aren't that dumb!"

He continued, and his eyes really lit up as he said something which he'd always wanted to say, but not until the proof was at hand did he ever do so. And it was now that the proof finally was at hand:

"Q.T. what it means is that they're all full of beans. They're wrong. They don't know what they're talking about—and I've always known it underneath! And what that means it that it's up to us to forget all the baloney they've given us and find out for ourselves just what is the truth and what isn't! You see?!!"

And with that they cuddled and laughed in triumph, as though they had just solved all the problems in their lives. (Maybe they had. Who knows?)

"Oh Sammy, you genius! I'm so excited, I think I'm gonna wet my pants! What should we find out about first? Neato!"

"Elementary, my dear Watson," imitated Sammy/Sherlock. "First we sneak off to fort No. 3 and form a plan."

And they were out of their PJs, into the attic, through the maze, and into fort No. 3 in a flash. It was quite warm, rather dark, and the air was ripe with mystery! They had a whole world to rediscover, now that they'd discovered that everything they'd been told was "full of beans." They sat down.

"Sammy, I'm starting to feel what you mean. We've been listening to a few people's ideas and we'd started to believe them and to be . . . to be . . . to be fenced in by those ideas. And they say that we are this, can only do this and that, are stuck with that, and can never do this. And now we find out we can see ghosts. Who knows what else we really can do?!" Lindsay exclaimed.

"Precisely, Q.T., so let's start. First let's be practical and figure out what it is we really want to do," said Sammy, still trying to be Sherlock.

"I want for all meanness to end, at least around you or me," stated Lindsay.

"And I wish that we could be around people who didn't treat us like dumb kids—but respected us and loved us," Sammy told her.

"Yeah! Like in our dream!" Lindsay said, a bit too loudly.

"Shhhhhh," Sammy shushed her, wanting to keep their secret fort secret. "But you're right, our dream is what we want. So can we get it? I don't know. But if there can be ghosts, then there can be anything. So let's wish for that dream to come true. Concentrate on being there. Concentrate on the love that—"

Suddenly sweet little Lindsay began sobbing softly and she cried to her brother, still softly:

"Oh yes—oh gosh, Sammy, I want that so bad: so very, very bad—"

"Oh Lindsay—me too—me too!" And at that the tears ran down Sammy's face and he grabbed his sister and held her and they cried together. They were risking opening up to their exact true feelings. The truth of what they are and what they want was now totally out in the open.

"I—I don't want to be stuck here anymore, Sammy; I want to go to where it's good, and happy," Lindsay cried to her brother, who held her even tighter.

"Me t-t-too," he cried to her, feeling just how much he really cared about all this. Even though he so often held back feelings, he wasn't now. Somehow he must find a space in this world for his real feelings. Why not here? And now?

And then the three-foot by six-foot Persian carpet that covered the floor of fort No. 3 trembled and began to rise above the floor with them on it! It stayed hovering a couple of inches off the floor!