I Saved Her - From Santa?
I’ve never been as gallant as the night I left my family behind in safety while I went in search of a girl that needed rescuing.
It was a cold winter night and I’d been outside being macho pushing the trash can to the curb for the next morning’s collection. Our infant was still in his baby swing and my wife was folding laundry.
While heading to the curb I heard it. I’m certain it was due to years of hunting and finely honed skills that my ears were able to pick out the sound in the midst of the busy city. I stopped and stood on tip-toes (a trick guaranteed to make one hear better) and I heard it again. That sound could be nothing else but a small girl screaming!
We have lots of kids in our neighborhood, and since the night was calm I realized some of them might be outside playing. If she was screaming while being pursued in a game of chase, that would explain it. Still, I now had a child of my own and it bugged me that I didn’t know what was going on when I heard it again!
I set the trash can in the correct position and took a few steps up the sidewalk toward the sound. (This positioning of the can is vital. We have a mean trash collector who leaves a bright yellow note on the can if it is not positioned correctly. There is nothing worse than a neon yellow paper advertising to all who drive down the street that the owner of this house is not smart enough to put out the trash the right way.) Throwing all caution to the wind, I actually turned my head so one of my ears was forward which never fails to make one hear better. She screamed again, and it was louder.
Fear gripped my heart and a righteous indignation moved me to act. I went into the house, got my heavy coat (it makes me look much bigger and tougher to strangers), cell phone, a flashlight, told my wife what was going on, and started my rescue. This girl may have a fun explanation of what was going on, but I never want it to be said something was happening to my child and none of the neighbors helped so I took off like a bullet. (Due to my age, it might have been a little bit more like an arrow, actually.)
As I passed the first house, I remembered a family two streets over had multiple little girls that we cautiously looked for whenever we drove past because they often left their toys in the street. This seemed an obvious place to start but my thoughts were interrupted by another horrific scream – behind me!
I turned around terrified that I had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. I had not been keeping one eye looking backwards while the other looked forward. Any mystery or spy novel reader knows the backside is where the bad guy always comes from! But there was nobody in sight…
All of the years of my ancestors’ hunting skill and woodsmanship took over. In other words, I came to a complete stop without a clue in the middle of the street holding my crime-stopping flashlight. My heart was pounding like a two-year-old beating his toy hammer on those little peg toys that drive the adults bananas. Was the city falling apart? Was crime occurring on all of our streets?
My thoughts were interrupted by another scream that seemed to be much closer. In fact, as the echo died away, I started thinking it was from the house I had just passed. Abandoning all pretense of reason and moving on instinct alone, I actually walked back to the sidewalk where cars passing by would not flatten me.
This particular yard was well lit because it was December and this neighbor puts up a Santa every year. It is an outline of St. Nick with light bulbs all around the edge and an arm that moves up and down waving slowly to all. As I stood in front of this house wondering if I should ring the doorbell or just kick the door in and yell, “Freeze! Police!” (I’ve always wanted to do that!), I heard the girl scream again and realized it was coming from – the Santa yard decoration?
Sure enough, I stood until I heard it again and the noise was from the squeaking of Santa’s elbow when he waved.
Several thoughts hit me simultaneously: I did not need the cell phone or flash light. Somewhere a girl was safe. Thankfully I had not called 9-1-1. This Santa had more tricks than treats. I needed a Dr Pepper.
I walked back to the garage to get my can of WD-40 trying to figure how to explain this to my wife. As I kneeled down to lubricate Santa’s elbow, I noticed the flash from a camera and my neighbor standing at the window pointing it at me. As the police arrived to arrest me for trespassing, I found myself thinking my cap and jacket would make it hard for people to identify my picture in the paper the next morning.
It was a cold winter night and I’d been outside being macho pushing the trash can to the curb for the next morning’s collection. Our infant was still in his baby swing and my wife was folding laundry.
While heading to the curb I heard it. I’m certain it was due to years of hunting and finely honed skills that my ears were able to pick out the sound in the midst of the busy city. I stopped and stood on tip-toes (a trick guaranteed to make one hear better) and I heard it again. That sound could be nothing else but a small girl screaming!
We have lots of kids in our neighborhood, and since the night was calm I realized some of them might be outside playing. If she was screaming while being pursued in a game of chase, that would explain it. Still, I now had a child of my own and it bugged me that I didn’t know what was going on when I heard it again!
I set the trash can in the correct position and took a few steps up the sidewalk toward the sound. (This positioning of the can is vital. We have a mean trash collector who leaves a bright yellow note on the can if it is not positioned correctly. There is nothing worse than a neon yellow paper advertising to all who drive down the street that the owner of this house is not smart enough to put out the trash the right way.) Throwing all caution to the wind, I actually turned my head so one of my ears was forward which never fails to make one hear better. She screamed again, and it was louder.
Fear gripped my heart and a righteous indignation moved me to act. I went into the house, got my heavy coat (it makes me look much bigger and tougher to strangers), cell phone, a flashlight, told my wife what was going on, and started my rescue. This girl may have a fun explanation of what was going on, but I never want it to be said something was happening to my child and none of the neighbors helped so I took off like a bullet. (Due to my age, it might have been a little bit more like an arrow, actually.)
As I passed the first house, I remembered a family two streets over had multiple little girls that we cautiously looked for whenever we drove past because they often left their toys in the street. This seemed an obvious place to start but my thoughts were interrupted by another horrific scream – behind me!
I turned around terrified that I had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. I had not been keeping one eye looking backwards while the other looked forward. Any mystery or spy novel reader knows the backside is where the bad guy always comes from! But there was nobody in sight…
All of the years of my ancestors’ hunting skill and woodsmanship took over. In other words, I came to a complete stop without a clue in the middle of the street holding my crime-stopping flashlight. My heart was pounding like a two-year-old beating his toy hammer on those little peg toys that drive the adults bananas. Was the city falling apart? Was crime occurring on all of our streets?
My thoughts were interrupted by another scream that seemed to be much closer. In fact, as the echo died away, I started thinking it was from the house I had just passed. Abandoning all pretense of reason and moving on instinct alone, I actually walked back to the sidewalk where cars passing by would not flatten me.
This particular yard was well lit because it was December and this neighbor puts up a Santa every year. It is an outline of St. Nick with light bulbs all around the edge and an arm that moves up and down waving slowly to all. As I stood in front of this house wondering if I should ring the doorbell or just kick the door in and yell, “Freeze! Police!” (I’ve always wanted to do that!), I heard the girl scream again and realized it was coming from – the Santa yard decoration?
Sure enough, I stood until I heard it again and the noise was from the squeaking of Santa’s elbow when he waved.
Several thoughts hit me simultaneously: I did not need the cell phone or flash light. Somewhere a girl was safe. Thankfully I had not called 9-1-1. This Santa had more tricks than treats. I needed a Dr Pepper.
I walked back to the garage to get my can of WD-40 trying to figure how to explain this to my wife. As I kneeled down to lubricate Santa’s elbow, I noticed the flash from a camera and my neighbor standing at the window pointing it at me. As the police arrived to arrest me for trespassing, I found myself thinking my cap and jacket would make it hard for people to identify my picture in the paper the next morning.