Author's note: This is a short story written for friend's of my family who lost their infant son shortly after birth.
OUR FATHER
WITH ART IN HEAVEN
By Barry Schatz
A small cloud of dust surrounded the shoes of a boy in a pinstripe uniform as he kicked at the infield dirt of a little league baseball field. He had a mouth full of pink gum and tried to blow a bubble, but the sticky wad of goo flew out of his mouth and landed in the powdery soil by third base.
The boy scooped the soiled gum up with his ball mitt and scowled as he studied it. He was about to toss it in the grass, outside the playing field, then found his mother’s eyes watching him from the bleachers. He immediately slipped it into his pocket.
“BATTERS UP!” yelled the umpire.
The entire crowd watched the action on the field except for one young boy sitting in the top row of the bleachers.
“Grandfather, do you see that boy standing over there with the blue team?” The elderly man nodded as he watched the next batter wait for his turn. “He doesn’t look as happy as the other kids.”
The elderly man took a deep breath and sighed. “Well Artie, it’s the bottom of the 9th inning of the little league championship game and the blue team is down by one run. See that boy standing on second base?”
“Yeah.”
“If he can score, the game will be tied. The only problem is, there are already two outs and the next batter, the boy you asked me about, hasn’t had a hit all season. He doesn’t believe in himself and is afraid to let the team down.”
Artie blocked the sun with his hand as he looked up at his Grandfather, then turned back to field.
“Come on Raymond. You can do it.” The other boys in the blue uniforms cheered.
The boys on the other team however began to celebrate their victory by tipping their hats to each other. They knew Raymond couldn’t hit. The infields stood relaxed and made faces at each other.
A woman sitting next to Artie and his Grandfather looked to the overcast sky and whispered, “Please God, let him get a hit.”
The old man leaned down and whispered to Artie. “That’s Raymond’s Mother.”
Artie stared at the woman. There was a tear stuck in the corner of her eye that refused to run down her cheek.
“Strike ONE!” shouted the umpired.
Artie looked up at his Grandfather. “Can’t we do something?”
“You could go down there and talk to Raymond,” said the Grandfather.
“I don’t know what to say,” said Artie.
“All Raymond needs is a little encouragement. Just go down there and talk to him.”
In a blink, Artie found himself standing next to Raymond. “It’s just a game. Try to have fun.”
Raymond looked like he didn’t hear Artie as he watched the white ball sailed by, THUD into the catcher’s mitt.
“Steeee-rike Twooooo!” the umpire shouted.
Raymond stepped out of the batter’s box and wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his blue, cotton shirt. Artie could see Raymond’s bottom lip quiver as he looked for his mother in the crowd.
Expecting to see his Grandfather sitting next to Raymond’s Mother, Artie saw he wasn’t there.
“You have to believe in Raymond, but you have to believe in yourself too!” Artie turned and saw his Grandfather beside him. “Move around so you can see his eyes.” He gave Artie a wink, then nodded for him to move.
Artie stepped directly in front of Raymond. He ignored the catcher and umpire. Home plate was anchored in the ground between them. The bat rested on Raymond’s right shoulder.
“Ray,” said Artie with a soft reassuring voice. “This is your chance.” Raymond looked down at his feet. “You are one swing of that bat from feeling joy like you wouldn’t believe,” he continued. Artie suddenly felt the batter’s fear and drank it in.
A cool breeze cut through the humid air and caressed Raymond’s brow. He took a deep breath and shook his shoulders. Stepping up to the plate, he planted his feet in the dirt.”
“You can hit that ball Ray,” said Artie.
With a renewed look of determination in Raymond’s eyes, he lifted the bat from his shoulder and stared down the pitcher.
Long black hair stuck out of the pitcher’s pin striped cap at odd angles. He tipped his cap in celebration to the third baseman. One more pitch, one more strike, the game would be over. The pitcher dug the ball out of his mitt and gripped it tight.
When the baseball left the pitcher’s hand, it seemed to move in slow motion. Eyes open wide with excitement, Raymond focused on the ball without fear. He stretched his arms out and swung the bat in a wide arc.
A loud PING, surprised every player on the field as the ball exploded off the metal bat. It missed the pitcher’s left ear by two inches as it sailed past him.
Not expecting Raymond to hit the ball, the center fielder had moved in and was standing only a few feet behind second base. He was in such shock as he watched the ball fly past him into an empty center field, he hesitated for a long second before he ran after the ball.
Raymond dropped his bat and bolted for first base. Dust fluffed into the air as his feet pounded the dry, infield dirt. When he rounded second base, he saw his entire team cheering along the third base line.
Raymond didn’t see the outfielders collide with each other as his coach jumped up and down and waived him home. Raymond’s Mother cheered the loudest from the stands as she wiped tears from her cheeks.
“You’ve just performed your first miracle Artie. That memory of that hit will stay with him for a long time.” The entire blue team surrounded Raymond at home plate and gave him high fives. “Raymond’s the hero on his team and his newly found confidence is going to change his life.”
“I can feel Raymond’s joy,” said Artie. “It feels good.”
“You did well Artie. Want to try another miracle?”
“Is there another baseball game?”
“Not baseball this time. You’re going to prevent some skinned knee’s.”
Artie immediately found himself standing in a parking lot next to a small white, country chapel. A steeple as tall as the trees that formed a backdrop for the church grew out of the roof. In the paved parking lot, a plump man breathed heavily as he ran behind a young boy on a red bike.
“Are you still holding on to me Daddy?” the boy shouted as he concentrated on steering the bike.
“I’ve got you Taran!” the man yelled as pinched the boy’s blue tee shirt between his fingers.
“Don’t let go,” Taran yelled nervously over his shoulder.
“All Taran needs is a little encouragement Artie. Just remember what you did with Raymond.”
Artie suddenly found himself sitting on the handlebars of the bike, facing Taran and his father who was still running behind the bike.
“You can let go now,” said Artie. The man stopped running and watched his son ride away.
“Taran! You’re doing it! You know how to ride a bike!” the man yelled.
Panic wash across Taran’s face. “Don’t worry Taran,” said Artie. “I won’t let you fall.”
The bike wobbled for a few minutes before Taran began to ride with confidence. A smile stretched across his face, revealing two missing front teethe. His father pumped both his arms into the air and cheered his son on.
“Don’t get cocky!” Taran’s father yelled out as he watched his son steer for his sister. “Kyla, make sure you stay out of his way! Give him plenty of room!”
Artie watched with his Grandfather as Taran rode his bike with a newly discovered pride. “Was that another miracle Grandpa?”
“Ohhh, the boy just needed a boost. He would have learned to ride eventually, but you certainly saved his family a few band aids today. We don’t always have to perform big miracles Artie. Our job is to share our father’s love. Look at the smile on that boy’s face. It’s hard for people to hate when they are having fun.”
“Can we do another one?” Artie asked with enthusiasm. “I want to help somebody else!”
“How would you like to go fishing? It’s easy to get through to people when they’re fishing because they’re relaxed...usually relaxed anyhow.”
In a blink, Artie found himself sitting on the bench seat of a pontoon boat next to his Grandfather. The boat rocked gently in the water as they watched a frustrated man trying to teach a young girl how to fish.
“What do we have to do?” Artie asked his Grandfather. “These people don’t look like they need help.”
“This one is just for fun Artie. One of the most memorable things for a child is when they catch their first fish.”
Artie moved closer to the young girl and watched.
“Daddy, do you think worms taste good to fish?”
“I’m sure they do Sweetie. I bet they taste like a big ole…umm…like a big cream filled donut.”
“Daddy, do fish have to brush their teethe after they eat a worm?”
“Oh, I suppose they don’t after every meal Princess.”
“I wish I was a fish so I didn’t have to brush my teeth,” said the girl.
“You would have to eat worms then Sugar.”
“Eieeww! I don’t want to eat worms!”
“And fish have schools,” said the man. “You would still have to go to school. Here, let me cast your fish line out for you Honey.” He took her fishing pole and with a flick of his wrist, sent a red and white bobber sailing until it landed, PLOOP in the water.
“What kind of a fish should we have her catch Artie?”
“A real big one,” said Artie with a smile.
“O.K. Muffin,” said the man. “When you see the bobber go under the water, pull up on the fishing rod really hard.”
“What’s the bubbler Daddy?” the girl asked.
“That’s the bobber floating on the top of the water. Can you remember what you are supposed to do?”
“Yep. When the little red and white ball goes under the water, pull up on the stick and spin this clicky thing until I catch a fish.”
“That sounds perfect Cupcake. Now listen, you watch the…err…little red and white ball while I set up a crawler harness for myself.”
“Did you use one of those things on me before I learned to walk Daddy?” She stared up at her father with large blue eyes.
“Did I use what?” the man sighed.
“A crawler harness.”
“Just watch the bobber Sunshine and quit asking questions.”
The man wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing when he spoke with his daughter and poked himself with a fishhook.
“Ahhhh!”
“He’s starting to lose patience Artie. I think now would be a good time to do help out.”
“O.K.,” Artie said. “Here goes nothing.”
“Daddy?” asked the girl. The man ignored his daughter while he tried toe wiggle a fishhook f rom his thumb. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”
Irritated, the man looked up. “What do you want Snookums?”
“My bubbler is gone,” the girl answered sheepishly.
The man looked up as the reel on her fishing rod began to unwind rather rapidly.
“Munchkin! Grab the rod and start turning the…the umm…ahh…the clicky thing!” He tripped over a cooler as he raced to the front of the boat. “Keep the tip of your pole up!”
It took 5 minutes for the girl to reel the fish close to the boat. In his excitement to help her get the fish in the boat, the man caught his foot in the net and fell into the captains chair.
“Hold on Precious. I’ll help you just as soon as I…get this…hold on…and I’ll…net…don’t let him get away now.”
“You know Artie, it’s going to be a miracle in itself if this guy can net that fish.”
“Should we…” Artie didn’t get a chance to finish his question as he saw his Grandfather shaking his head.
“Sometimes, it’s better to let them learn on their own.”
The man finally got the net in the water and lifted the fish into the boat. The fish flopped on the floor and splashed water on everything within 5 feet. “That’s the biggest bass I’ve ever seen!” the man said to his daughter. He could barely contain his excitement.
“I thought it was a fish?” said the girl.
The man wasn’t listening as he struggled to remove the hook from the slippery fish. “This is so typical. I don’t understand how it happens and it always works out this way.” The man looked to the sky and continued to talk. “I have hundreds of dollars worth of fishing equipment at my end of the boat and I can’t catch a simple pan fish. Give a kid a $14.00 fishing pole and a worm…and…and…they catch the biggest fish.”
“Daddy, the fish can’t breath.”
“It’ll be fine Sugarplum! THAT…is a trophy fish.”
“I thought it was a bass.”
“I’ll have him mounted and we’ll put him on the wall in…”
“We gotta put him back in the water Daddy.”
The man looked down at his daughter with a look that suggested he was about to scold her.
“Grandpa, she’s going to get yelled at,” said Artie.
“Just watch. It doesn’t always take an angel to make a miracle. Behold the power of love.”
“Daddy, this fish probably has a family. Maybe he went to work this morning to bring home some worms for his fish kids. If he doesn’t come home, they will miss him tremendously.”
“Tremendously? That’s a pretty big word for somebody your age.”
“I would really miss you tremendously if you didn’t come home from work Daddy.” The frustrated look on his face turned soft and his eyes got moist.
“Well…I supposed that’s a good point. How bout if I take your picture so we can show Mama.”
The little girl strained as she leaned to her left to hold the fish up with her right hand. After the man took a picture, he gently lowered the fish back into the water.
“Goodbye Puppy,” said the girl as she waived to the fish.
“Puppy?” the man sniggered. “Did that fish tell you his name?”
“Nope. I made it up. I like silly names for some reason.”
Artie was no longer watching the man and the young girl.
“Can we go over there Grandpa?” He pointed to some people fishing in another boat.
“I was wondering when you were going to notice them Artie.”
“The man in that boat looks…familiar.”
“He’s your Daddy Artie.”
Artie stared for a moment. “He’s sad. All the people with him are sad too.” Artie stared again before turning to his Grandfather. “Grandpa, why couldn’t I have stayed with my parents longer?”
“People are born onto earth to grow and better themselves. They need to learn wisdom and unconditional love.” The old man knew he hadn’t really answered the question. “You were born perfect Artie. There wasn’t anything else for you to learn and our father needed you. Heaven can never have enough angels after all. Besides, you don’t have to leave your parents. You can watch over them.”
“Will they know I’m there?”
“Absolutely. They’ll feel a warm sensation inside their bodies when you are with them.”
“Will I get to do more miracles?”
“Absolutely. You see Artie, for every child that has a bully on their bus, has to deal with peer pressure, or maybe needs a boost in their confidence, there’s an angel looking over them. Just like today, there will be other kids that will need help hitting a baseball, riding a bike, or will want to catch a fish.”
Artie grinned. “You know Grandpa, that fish the girl let go is still out there. My Dad looks like he needs to catch something really big. Do you think that would cheer them up?”
“It would be like a hug.”
Fifteen minutes, Artie’s dad netted the biggest bass he had ever caught on Grand Lake...and he felt a little better.
This story is dedicated to my friends Art and Diane who lost their infant son a few days after his birth. As I grieved for them, I tried to make sense of their loss. I envisioned a baby angel providing simple miracles.
When I sat down and started writing the story, it only took me a few minutes to write rough it out. I could relate to what it was like to be one of the last kids picked for a team sport. Like Raymond, I had been to home plate when the whole team was counting on you to hit the ball, but didn’t think you would.
The day after the Artie’s funeral, my son Taran went solo on his two wheeled bike in the parking lot of the Grand Lake Chapel. Also that weekend, Art told me the story of the huge bass he caught in Grand Lake while fishing with a couple of his relatives.
Art and Diane lost Artie in August. In my heart, I asked why, and found comfort in believing God needed more angels.
The following month, terrorists attacked the World Trade Center in New York City. Instantly, millions of people in our country and other parts of the world were stunned. Perhaps the angels that watch over our families gave all of us the encouragement we needed.