from the archives

This was in the March 24, 2015 Omaha World-Herald.

“I think you made the paper today…is this you?” – Jenn (texted to me at 8:30 a.m. Tuesday morning)

“Yes!”, I responded to my cousin’s question. “This is in today’s paper??”

“Yep! Living Section page 5E”, was her reply.

Well now…isn’t that just WEIRD! I can’t even tell you just how weird it was seeing a picture of yourself in the newspaper which was taken 42 years earlier. So, of course, I immediately had to share it with my kids, which Jamie, in turn, shared on Facebook. This led to questions and I decided it would just be better if I took the time to tell the story.

It’s been a while since I wrote on here! I’ve had so many different trips and things to do, I haven’t taken time to write like I’d like to and this was just the inspiration I needed to get started again.

This all began the summer of 1973. I was 11 years old. And…I was going to be a famous writer one day. Chirpy was my first actual story that I wrote and sent to someone else to read. And the huge write-up in the Omaha World Herald was a result of that great writing. I think I might have the original letter somewhere but I haven’t a clue where it’s at. Maybe mom still has it.

“You look like a hippie” – one of the comments from the girls after they saw the picture from the paper. “I WAS a hippie”, I said. 🙂  This picture is so 1973! Look at that bandana and those wire rimmed glasses! I particularly like the change purse snapped on the brake cable on my Schwinn 10-speed bike.  How about the Holly Hobby tank top? The one thing in this picture I really do like is my POW bracelet!! I oftentimes wonder whatever happened to the young man whose name I wore on my wrist. 

I had just returned from Girl Scout camp. I had been gone for quite some time – maybe a week? Maybe two, I just don’t remember. When I got home, there was this tiny, ugly creature in a box on the kitchen table. I don’t remember how much earlier (a day or so) my brothers had found this baby bird in the backyard. Details are a bit sketchy now. Apparently, though, it had fallen out of its nest during a storm. It wasn’t very old. I’m guessing maybe only a day or two and just ugly.

I turned the chore of keeping this baby bird alive to mine. What did it eat? Well, we began feeding it soggy bread with a pair of tweezers. It didn’t know any better, I guess, and it did quite well. As it grew, we substituted the soggy bread for mashed peas and hot dogs. Crazy, right?? Yeah, I don’t know why we fed it that but it continued to grow.

I remember when he first started to venture out of his homemade “nest”, he walked backwards. And when I would call “Chirpy”, he would chirp back at me. Later that summer, I went to stay with some friends at their farm. Chirpy, of course, came along with me but the intention was for me to release chirpy at the farm. I can still remember the day that I took him outside and hoped with all my heart that he wouldn’t fly away. Unfortunately, even with all the hoping (and praying), Chirpy did fly away. I knew he would be much happier where he was but it broke my heart.

Several days went by. I was really missing my little friend. He lived in a birdcage but he enjoyed his time with me or on the floor eating the crumbs left behind by me and my two younger brothers. So, every time I saw that empty birdcage, it hurt my heart just a little bit more.

Then it happened.

I was outside playing with my friends when Chirpy landed on my head. He liked to ride either on my head or on my shoulder. My hair was just long enough that he liked to crawl between my neck and my hair and then peck at my neck – not hard – just a loving peck, peck, peck. So, when he landed, it was a welcomed surprise because I thought he was gone forever. Chirpy ended up going back home with me.

It was after that adventure that I decided I was going to write my “human interest” story to the Omaha World Herald. I didn’t have a clue that my mom would receive a phone call from a reporter asking if he could come to our home to get the story. I bet she was just as surprised to receive that phone call as I was when Chirpy landed on my head at the farm.

These pictures are the result of that afternoon.

As I mentioned earlier, Chirpy loved being on the floor cleaning up what we left behind. Unfortunately, this was how Chirpy eventually met his death. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. My brother accidentally stepped on Chirpy. As far as I was concerned, it was the worst day in history. Poor Mark. I’m sure he felt horrible!

Chirpy wasn’t the only animal that I raised. I remember one other time while on harvest someone ran over a nest of baby rabbits with a grain truck. They killed all but one. I decided I was going to rescue that little guy. And I did. I had to leave harvest (I was with Grandpa and Grandma) for a school trip. Me and that bunny (in a box) boarded a Greyhound bus in Kansas and made the trip on our own. Would you send your young daughter home on a bus all by herself now? NO WAY!

That silly rabbit grew and followed me like a dog. I remember it sprawling out on my chest for a nap. The other funny thing it liked to do was sit in front of the refrigerator (where there was warm air coming from the vent) and clean its ears. This time, it was my mom who stepped on it. I know mom was heartbroken over it but probably not nearly as much as I was…again.

All character builders, I guess. Who would have thought someone could/would be able to raise newly born wild animals on a whim? I certainly had no formal training – just a desire to care for something and no knowledge that it can’t be done. I’m still that way – nothing has changed. I’m not one to easily give up on something or someone. God gives us all gifts. Apparently one of mine is nurturing and caring. What’s one of yours?