Life and Times of Maine Moose Patrol & Author Mack D Ames
Author: Mack Ames
I teach adult education, including high school equivalency test prep, adult basic education, and Work Ready for Corrections, a workplace readiness course at a correctional facility. I am married with two sons in high school. I have a dry sense of humor and try not to take myself more seriously than necessary.
My beloved mother was a prude. There’s really no other way to say it. No minced oaths were allowed aloud in her presence, nor any talk that merely hinted at being corrupt. I cannot recall ever having my mouth washed out with soap, but her withering gaze was as effective as a Dove bar for the words “fart,” “suck,” “heck,” or “darn.” My older brother once expressed his awe at how long she’d had to wait between rest stops. He’d foolishly blurted out, “Wow, what a bladder!” I don’t know what his punishment was, but his epic blunder was fodder for sibling teasing for quite some time afterward.
Mum did not allow for “oh my goodness” or “oh my,” even. I found that out when I was in high school. Our typical mornings found us running late, and I drove her to where she taught before taking myself to the opposite end of town for my classes. True to form, the second-hand car we were driving one particular day gave us a hassle before we even left the house.
The driver’s door wouldn’t latch, so I grabbed a length of baling twine from the barn, looped it around the inside handle, and asked Mum to hang onto it while I drove. She graded papers and made lesson plans as we made the 15-mile drive to town. All was well until we came to the intersection of Griffin Road and Ohio Street, where the road dips, and on the right turn, Mum lost her grip on the twine, allowing my door to swing wide open.
There was no danger to me nor to anyone else, and I laughed as I tried to regain control of the wayward door while guiding the 1972 Saab up Ohio Street. Meanwhile, all Mum could say was, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” I only laughed harder at my prudish mother’s refusal to say anything more severe than that. I swerved to the left, which brought the door back to me, and she grabbed the twine from my hand, white-knuckling her grip from there to her school.
For the next few days that the Saab door refused to latch, we figured out that if she buckled the twine in with her seatbelt, we wouldn’t have to worry about the Griffin-to-Ohio turn anymore, and she wouldn’t be the butt—I mean, backside—of my amusement.
Charlene kept looking over her shoulder, expecting him to show up again. She wanted to run, but the pain in her legs prevented that. Besides, it was too dark to see well, and the terrain was unfamiliar to her. No, she realized, walking was the best she could hope for, but maybe she’d get away this time.
How many times was it now? Three? Six? She’d lost track. Time and days blended together, as did her escape attempts. She never got far, before he was there, grabbing at her, forcing her back into a chair or strapping her to a bed. All she wanted was to go home, but he would not let her. Home to her parents. Home to her brothers and sisters. Why wouldn’t the man let her go?
The blasted pain in her legs; where did it come from? She cursed her legs as she stopped for a break. Oh, they ached! Why did they hurt so much? She looked down, and in the pale moonlight she could just make out the tattered dressings that clung to her shins and calves. She searched her memory for any clue as to what had happened, but there was nothing there, just smoke. Smoke?
She shook off her thoughts and got moving again. The man was nowhere to be seen, and she was sure she’d gotten away scot-free this time. As Charlene made her way toward the side gate, her mind drifted back to the smoke in her memory, and to her family. Why haven’t they been to see me? And why do I keep seeing smoke in my memories? How long have I been imprisoned by this man? Her thoughts jumbled as she missed the irony that she was in a place her family could’ve visited and that she knew where the side gate was.
In the distance, Charlene saw a faint light flickering. Tired of stumbling through darkness, she focused her efforts on the light and made her way to it. As she drew nearer, she realized it was a bonfire, and that it was not a faint flame at all. The brilliance of it terrified her, and she began to scream for help. Within moments, the man arrived with the wheelchair, and was taking Charlene back to the sanitarium.
As they entered the building, he turned to the duty nurse and said, “I had a feeling I’d find her there. The light always draws her. Poor dear, she still thinks her family’s alive. I wonder if she’ll ever put the pieces together and understand that the fire that burned her legs took her home and their lives. Then again, maybe it’s best if she doesn’t remember.”
Challenge to the Reader: Write a paragraph (or more) explaining how you think the fire started that burned Charlene and her home. Post your explanation in the comments below.
Robby leaned against a sapling, gasping for air. The little tree bent, then broke, and he fell to the ground, cursing. Pain searedhis abdomen. He lifted his shirt to see a scrape across his right side where the shattered sapling had rubbed against him. At least it wasn’t bleeding. A moment’s rest more, and he was on his feet again, running as fast as he could, his thoughts whirlingwith fear and anguish.
All he’d wanted was a couple of peppermints from his friend; why couldn’t Jamie share? He always shared with Jamie. His lunch, his answers for their homework, a spare coat in chilly weather. And did Jamie ever say thank you or share with him? No. Peppermints were Robby’s favorite candy, and Jamie knew it. He had a whole bag of them, and he wouldn’t even give Robby two. He just tauntedRobby and called him a loser.
He offered to let Jamie use his prized possession—the wristwatch his grandfather had given him—if he could have even one peppermint candy. Jamie said yes, and when Robby gave him the watch, Jamie just crushed it with a rock and that’s when Robby lost it. He gave Jamie a push, and then another one. Jamie laughed at him, called him a loser again, and shoved him back. When Robby fell down, Jamie turned and walked away. He didn’t see Robby getting up again and running at him. When Robby hit him, the boys were near the ravine. Jamie stumbled and fell out of sight with a scream. Robby was so shocked at what he’d done that he turned and ran for home.
Several hours later, there was a knock at the door of Robby’s house. His mother answered and then called her son to join her immediately. A police officer stood before him, wanting to know if he’d been to the ravine today, wanting to know if he knew a boy named Jamie, wanting to know if he knew anything about what happened to him.
“What’s this all about, Matt?” Steve growled, his face red with anger. “How could you do this? After all these years! You’ve been lying to me! I thought we were friends, and now this? You disgust me!” Steve stopped pacing back and forth in front of the lockers and sat down on a bench, burying his face in his hands.
“Steve, man, I’m sorry,” Matt began, but Steve interrupted him.
“Oh, get off your high horse, Steve!” Matt had lost his patience. “You had to know something was different about me. We’ve known each other for what, 15, 16 years, and you’ve never seen signs of it before? And you never questioned me till now? NO. You just went along with it like it was no big deal. Save me your precious fake anger. What’s the problem, anyway? Just because I feel differently from you doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it? C’mon, Steve!”
“All right, all right,” Steve conceded. “Maybe I’m overreacting a little. I guess that deep down, you’re still the same guy you’ve always been, but I, I just never expected to learn this about you, Matt. Sure, I’ve seen the signs, but I didn’t want to believe that it was true, so I’ve always pushed them out of my mind. Still, why now? Why announce now how you really are?”
“Steve, we’re best friends, aren’t we?” When his friend nodded, Matt continued, “And best friends should be able to trust each other with their deepest secrets, right? To know the worst and best about each other still support each other, right?” Steve agreed again, so Matt said, “Well, I’m coming cleannow because I haven’t been honest with you. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to be my friend if you knew the truth about me.”
“Gosh, Matt, I’m angry because you’ve been lying to me, but it’s not the end of the world! I mean, seriously, just because you’ve come out of the closet as a Yankees fan after pretending to be a Red Sox fan all these years isn’t going to end our friendship!”
In recent weeks, I have been writing very short stories for my English classes (adult ed). By very short stories, I mean 250-300 words in length. Stories that will fit on one sheet of paper, followed by text-based questions and critical-thought questions, to help my ABE (Adult Basic Education) readers develop stronger reading comprehension skills, as well as using context clues, predictions, and such, in pursuit of overall English Language Arts improvement. I also use writings from various websites, always using proper citation for other authors’ works.
Sometimes I use prompts that I’ve given to students in the past, and other times I have ideas that I want to use for an essay-length tale, but whatever the topic, I try to make it interesting and appropriate for the setting–i.e., incarcerated adults. I’ve received countless suggestions that I use this textbook or that workbook containing short stories with questions at the end of them, but what I’ve discovered in my years of teaching Adult Education in the correctional setting is that most of my students do not possess enough working short-term memory to read a traditional-length short story and answer questions about it. If the story is longer than one 81/2″ x 11″ page, they will struggle mightily to retain the gist of the tale long enough to answer questions about it.
Now, you might protest and say that it’s my job to take them beyond single-page stories, and I might agree with you. But I have to start somewhere, don’t I? In this limited setting, then, I start where I can do the most good. As my students improve, I can lengthen the stories to a page and a half, or two pages. But the point is not the length of story, my friends. The point is the Lexile difficulty of the story. The more advanced I make the vocabulary of the story, the greater the progress that my students can make, even if the story is very short.
So I will continue with my VERY short stories and follow up questions. I intend to post some of the stories here, and I might even include the questions. How thrilling for you. Really.
My siblings and I used to disagree on what our Mum’s favorite hymn was. Some of them thought that it was “How Firm a Foundation,” which is another great hymn of the faith, but I believe it was this one. As we approach March 17, the 32nd anniversary of Mum’s homegoing to Jesus, I post this hymn in loving memory of SallyAnn Ames MacDonald, Mum to me. ❤
The Church’s one Foundation — Aurelia
The church’s one Foundation Is Jesus Christ her Lord; She is his new creation By water and the Word: From heav’n he came and sought her To be his holy bride; With his own blood he bought her, And for her life he died.
Elect from ev’ry nation, Yet one o’er all the earth, Her charter of salvation One Lord, one faith, one birth; One holy Name she blesses, Partakes one holy food. And to one hope she presses, With ev’ry grace endued.
Though with a scornful wonder Men see her sore oppressed, By schisms rent asunder, By heresies distressed, Yet saints their watch are keeping, Their cry goes up, “How long?” And soon the night of weeping Shall be the morn of song.
The church shall never perish! Her dear Lord to defend, To guide, sustain and cherish Is with her to the end; Though there be those that hate her, And false sons in her pale, Against or foe or traitor She ever shall prevail.
‘Mid toil and tribulation, And tumult of her war, She waits the consummation Of peace for evermore; Till with the vision glorious Her longing eyes are blest, And the great church victorious Shall be the church at rest.
Yet she on earth hath union With the God the Three in One, And mystic sweet communion With those whose rest is won: O happy ones and holy! Lord, give us grace that we, Like them, the meek and lowly, On high may dwell with thee.
We are at EMMC ER. Laurel is waiting for a CT scan to check for a possible blood clot in her
lungs. Your prayers are appreciated. We are at EMMC ER. Laurel is waiting for a CT scan to check for a possible blood clot in her
lungs. Your prayers are appreciated.
Ok, friends, here’s an update on Laurel. She was admitted to EMMC with an
undetermined respiratory infection. Tests are ongoing. We spent the afternoon
in a room in the ER. I’m thankful that we had that room, because when I called
in about an hour ago to see if she’d been moved yet, the nurse told me that no
beds were available, and it’s likely Laurel will spend that night in that ER
room.
I
have two sick boys at home, so Laurel agreed that I should come home when I
did, a little before five pm. She was as comfortable as she could be, receiving
oxygen and good care by the staff at EMMC.
Your ongoing prayers are appreciated. We’ve
benefitted from a loving church family already, as well as the kind expressions
of support from dozens of so many of you here on FB. Thank you. That’s all for
now.
Update on Laurel: She has influenza A and pneumonia. She’s in
EMMC CCU Rm 568. I took her tablet to her, so she’ll be able to connect to FB
herself when she’s awake, which may be awhile. She hasn’t slept much for the
last two weeks.
She’s
grateful for all your support and prayers. Robert
Boettger, Nancy
Lois, and Karl Boettger,
know that she is in good hands. She’s receiving excellent care. As she said to
me this morning, “I got the big one. Guess I needed a break.” Dry
sense of humor all the way, just like we love her for.
I have to take the
boys to be tested for flu now, and later, I have to clean the church. It’s
going to be a long day. Your continued prayers are appreciated. If anyone local
wants to help with the cleaning, I won’t say no. 😉 DM me. (Members of the church did take care of
cleaning for that week.)
I just got off the
phone with the folks at EMMC. Laurel’s going to be in CCU for another
night/day. She’s very groggy and has been sleeping most of the day. Due to our
exposure to influenza, the boys and I are staying at home for now, and are
taking medication per our respective medical professionals.
Morning Update: Laurel is still sleeping; very
little change to her condition. I cannot go see her today as my condition is
worse. I’m staying in touch with her nurse by phone, but the boys and I have
lie low today. The flu is taking its toll on all of us.
****************
I
just finished putting the boys to bed. In our prayers, we thanked God for the
dozens of you that have prayed for us, and that have offered words of
encouragement and support during this trying week of illness. We prayed for
those of you that we know are also dealing with illness, for we know that our
God is mighty to save! “Praise God from whom all blessings flow!”
I’m hoping to see Laurel again in the morning.
I will be a masked man, but I miss her. As I’ve said elsewhere, all three of us
at home are on Tamiflu–both boys are known to have the flu, and I’m on the
medicine as if I have it.
We have plenty of
food. My sister Priscilla dropped off some homemade soup and bread
today. ❤ With that, the groceries I bought last weekend, and the food
provided by the church earlier in the week, we’re set for the next several
days. ❤
Apart
from checking in on Laurel tomorrow and getting the rest of my medicine from
the pharmacy (they ran out and had just enough to get me started
tonight/tomorrow morning), I’m on quarantine, so I’m unable to clean the
church, but others have taken that on for us (the people of God showing his
love by their deeds) this week. I’m also unable to go to work; my bosses are
being very supportive, and my job is secure. I have been reassured of that and
told today to take care of my family first. I would have done that, anyway, but
that reassurance is nice to have.
That’s
going to be it for tonight. I’ll post more tomorrow when I know more and have
time to write it. Laurel asked me to pass along her gratitude to you, which I
may have done already, but it’s been a long day and I’m known to repeat myself,
anyway…
Sometime around the third week of January 2019, my wife, Laurel, developed a severe, wracking cough. It would strike at any time and she would cough to the point of gagging before she could stop. It was painful to hear, painful to watch, and miserable for her. Yet she wouldn’t go to the doctor or to walk-in care, thinking that it was just a cold that would soon pass.
Finally, on January 27, she agreed to go to walk-in care. It
was a quick visit, and we left with prednisone and Bactrim (sp?) for her to
take for a week. By the end of the week, her cough was no better, and on
February 3, we were back at walk-in care. This time around, I had been able to
reach our primary care office ahead of time, and they had recommended we ask
for an x-ray to check for pneumonia. We did that, and the preliminary result
suggested pneumonia, so the PA put Laurel back on prednisone, did a different
antibiotic, gave her a shot in the backside, and told her, “Right now you’ll
feel like you’ve been kicked by a mule, but by tonight you’ll feel like Wonder
Woman.” She was right about the first part, but not the second. She also told
us to schedule a follow-up with our primary care physician for the end of the
week.
Laurel felt well enough to cheer on her beloved New England Patriots as they defeated the LA Rams in Super Bowl LIII, but by Wednesday, February 6, she had developed a fever, and I called our primary care office to tell them she needed to be seen right away. Within moments of arriving there, Laurel was put on oxygen, and they had called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. I chose EMMC because of my familiarity with it, knowing more people that work there than at the other hospital in town, and because it seems that many patients end of there after beginning treatment at the other one. I followed the ambulance to EMMC and joined Laurel in the ER. We spent several hours there together; she was put in a room in very short order, which turned out to be a blessing, because no rooms were available for her upstairs that night. While we were there, elder Jay R from our church went to our house and checked on the boys. Then he went to a couple of fast food places and bought their very specific food choices and took them lunch. He gave them his phone number so they could contact him if they needed anything else.
By a little after 4:00pm, Laurel and I hadn’t had anything
to eat since breakfast, so when the chance came for her to get some food, she
shared it with me. Bolstered by it, we were able to think through what needed
to be done for our family. She had already had a CT scan to check for possible
blood clots in her lungs (there were none), and faced other tests. The decision
to admit her had already been made, so we knew she would be at EMMC for the
night, if not longer. However, the boys had been on their own much longer than
we’d expected, so she agreed that I should go home. I prayed with her, and
left.
The next morning, I went back to the hospital. By that time,
she was in CCU, Room 568. I spoke with Laurel for a few minutes. She was very
groggy. She told me that she was positive for Influenza A and pneumonia, and
that the hospital wanted the boys tested for flu. I left her Kindle tablet for
her to use if she felt up to it, prayed with her again, kissed her on the
forehead, and left. That was the last time she was awake to talk with me. By
the end of the day, Laurel was on life support and heavily sedated.
From this point onward, I’m going to use my Facebook posts
to show the progression of Laurel’s saga. I’ll include other narrative as I
want to, but I think that what the Lord has been doing and providing by his
grace and mercy is amply shown in those posts. I want this story preserved for
a testimony to my kids and to me, and yes, to Laurel, of the greatness of our
God and of his amazing love for us, his children.
Isaiah 55 “Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. 2 Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen diligently tome, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food. 3 Incline your ear, and come to me; hear, that your soul may live; and I will make with you an everlasting covenant, my steadfast, sure love for David. 4 Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. 5 Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know, and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God, and of the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.
6 “Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; 7 let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the Lord, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. 8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. 9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
10 “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, 11 so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.
12 “For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle; and it shall make a name for the Lord, an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”
Context is everything in the Bible, so you have to see the whole chapter to get the full picture, but these two verses do stand out for this post: 8 For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. 9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
When my wife was hospitalized in February 2019, one of the first people I contacted was Dad. He listened intently, allowed me to ramble about details significant and insignificant, permitted my emotions without embarrassment, offered Scriptural consolation, and prayed with me over the phone. As the days passed, I called him or he called me.
His wife texted me to let me know he was available to me whenever I needed him, for he understood my situation better than I might realize. I pondered that, and spoke with him about it. We commented that I am now about the age he was when Mum had cancer. How did he manage working so far from where she was hospitalized? How he balance all the responsibilities? Of course, I was the last child at home and had my driver’s license and a car to use, so I was much more independent than my boys are, and my sister Judi was home from college and helping out in many ways. But, still. He said that it’s been so long that he doesn’t remember all that, but the important part is that God carried him through it (not his exact words, mind you, but that was the gist of it). We talked further of the grace, mercy, faithfulness, compassion, and love of God. We discussed the providence of God for our hearts and our everyday needs.
He prayed with me again, with his wife holding his hand as he prayed over the phone. God’s mercy shown to me as we could not be together. Dad’s suffering of 32 years ago not being wasted as he helps his youngest son through a similar trial. My wife’s not dying, but at the time of this conversation (early February), her chances of survival–humanly speaking–looked slim. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
Thank God for the truth of His Word! To God be the glory!
Mack Ames Books and Maine Moose Patrol 