Captivating Short Stories

Every person has stories to tell. Stories need to be shared. It gives me great pleasure to offer these short stories for your reading pleasure. Most of them will be true accounts.

Story Number One

The Gift of Ear Wiggling 

Grade 3.  Rutland Elementary School.  1959.

Miss Kiene was a brand-new teacher.  Sweet, smiling, and new to discipline.  She gave five-minute detentions.  I got exactly one of them and Kathleen C’s giggling is to blame.  Kathleen was a fun, funny, skinny girl with great freckles all over her face.  She excelled at giggling. 

Her desk was in the very front of the second row.  Mine was the last desk of the middle (3^rd) row.  One morning I saw her sitting sideways, looking back at me.  So, I did what comes naturally to an eight-year-old boy with a brush cut.  I wiggled my big ears.  It was my special talent.  Her reaction was a satisfying giggle that burst the quiet calm of the classroom.  Miss Kiene glanced over at Kathleen who had quickly looked down innocently at the work on her desk.  That SHOULD have been the end.  Kathleen waited, then turned back, and mouthed the words, “Do it again.”

What would you have done?  Well, I did it again.  Another louder giggle of pure pleasure!  

“Kathleen, what is going on?” I heard Miss Kiene ask.

“Nothing, nothing!” Kathleen muttered, trying to squelch the shaking laughter.  You would think that was the end of the matter.  But maybe you’re not in Gr. 3 or your memory has faded.  So, yes, Kathleen turned a third time.  Mouthed the same words.  I mouthed back, “You’ll laugh.”

“No, just one more time!”

So, stupid, trusting soul that I was, I wiggled those lovely elephant ears a third time.  The explosive outburst of laughter from that skinny girl got everyone’s attention.  “Kathleen, whatever is the matter?”  

And without any hesitation, my betrayer turned back, pointed her finger at me amidst spasms of laughter and shrieked, “Wilfred is wiggling his ears!”

Wilfred’s big ears turned crimson along with his head that shone through his brush cut.  Added shame came with the matter-of-fact order, “That will be a 5-minute detention after school.”

My first and only detention!  Oh, why did I have to have the gift of ear wiggling?  Blame God.  Maybe not.  

So, after school I sat there in my desk.  Guilty.  The other students went home and I was the only student left.  After some time, Miss Kiene asked, “Wilfred, why are you sitting in your desk?”

“I have a detention.”

Now Miss Kiene’s lovely ears turned crimson.  She had completely forgotten my naughty ear wiggling incident.  

“You may go home now.  Good night.”

I raced out of there.  If I got home fast enough, and didn’t tell my parents, I wouldn’t get a spanking for my wickedness.

I was FREE and made a vow to keep future ear wiggling under wraps. I also determined to never trust that funny freckle-faced female friend again. 

Story Number Two

I sent this story to the BC Retired Teacher's Magazine where it was published last year. I found out that Dave Hayward, my wonderful main character is still alive - 102 years old. His son gave me his phone number and we had a rich conversation. He still remembers this story.

Education beyond a Bachelor of Education

Carey Hall was my student residence while attending UBC in Vancouver from 1972-1974.  David Hayward was our dorm ‘Dad’.  A gentle, warm, kind man, David encouraged all forty guys to think outside of ourselves and to volunteer on outings with people from Woodlands (a psychiatric facility for people with mental disorders). 

We took them bowling but for them it was much more than bowling because they put the women and men’s groups together for such an event.  A lot more than bowling was going on.  We were constantly on guard to keep their kissing and hugging in check during aggressive attempts for romance while waiting for each turn to bowl. 

Floor hockey was probably the favorite activity.  Every game was as if the Stanley Cup was on the line.  These guys were good, fast and strong with no inhibitions or concerns for injuries.  One guy would wait on the side at center and line up his target.  As his target crossed the line he launched himself, rear end first to flatten the poor Carey Hall volunteer.  No one was safe in this life or death floor hockey game.  So much fun with lots of laughter and high emotional adrenaline taking this physical  exercise to the highest level.  We became friends…UBC students and the so-called handicapped men from Woodlands.

A hiking trip to Mission, BC was on the agenda.  This involved a one-hour bus trip from Vancouver to a hiking area that had a cliff as the end point.  About thirty+ men from Woodlands and five or six Carey Hall guys joined David Hayward for a cloudy, Saturday adventure.  It was not a quiet, restful ride, but it certainly was entertaining.  (I will change their real names).  Jimmy was in his thirties and a delightful crowd clown.  All of a sudden he quieted the crowd and then shouted in a high pitched nasally voice, “Who all misses their mommies?  Let’s all cry!  Waaaa!!!”  and everyone wailed away till the whole busload broke out laughing. 

A few minutes later Jimmy got everyone’s attention once more.  This guy could command respect.  In the same nasally outrageous voice he announced, “And the first star of the hockey game is….Dave Hayward!”  Everyone cheered.  “The second star of the hockey game is…Johnny!!”  Loud applause.  “And the third star of the hockey game is…(longer pause) ME…MYSELF, Jimmy!”  A roar filled the bus.

The hike was a bit of a shuffle.  Not everyone was agile, but we all encouraged each other and eventually reached the bluff overlooking a large open area.  They cautioned each other about not getting too close to the edge.  Some clung together.  It was a beautiful mountaintop gathering.  And then it started raining.  Oh, no!  Not what I had in mind for a good day.  I shouldn’t have worried with these guys!  Johnny, the guy who rocked back and forth for almost the entire trip, slowly stepped to the edge of the cliff.  He looked up at the sky, raised his hand in the air and in a clear commanding voice shouted, “God!!!…make.. rain… stop!!!”  The rain stopped.  We were shocked, amazed, in awe.  No one was ready for the clincher.  Jimmy matter of factly announced, “Johnny is really the witch from Hansel and Gretel, reincarnated!”  No one laughed. 

The ride home had more announcements and three more hockey stars.  It was quieter.  We’d had a positive, unforgettable day.  I could have stayed at UBC that day in 1974, but just think what I would have missed with these precious guys.  Dave Hayward knew that we needed an education beyond learning to become a school teacher or engineer or scientist.  He taught us a bigger picture of humanity that included active love.  Dave Hayward definitely was the first star of the Carey Hall and Woodland Hockey Team!  As I look back fifty years Jimmy and Johnny still rank up there as stars for the Woodland Wonders!

Story Number Three

The Dead Mouse

In the summer when I was five, Mom gave each of us a bucket and sent us picking wild strawberries on the outer edges of the bush area.  My bucket was the smallest, Olive’s the largest.  At nine years old, she was a fast, expert picker.  Reuben was also quite good, but then there was Wilfie.  Those little berries tasted so good, plus there were so many interesting distractions.  The bottom of my bucket usually showed shiny metal areas.  Suddenly, near the end of a fallen log, I saw the dead mouse.  Its skin had dried tight, almost like a mummy.  The tail looked ‘safe’, so I picked it up.  Wow! What a find!  I wanted to share this stunning discovery with the others.  I held it high in the air and called, “Look at what I found!  A dead mouse!”  

The others stopped picking.  Now, we need to stop here to make something absolutely clear.  I was not a nasty child with evil plans and intentions.  The mouse was a curious wonder and I simply wanted to show it to my brother and sister.  So, what happened next came as a complete surprise to us all.  Olive shouted, “Wilfred, put that thing down right now!” And just like that, a tiny, exciting spark of wickedness shot into my five year old brain.  I slowly, seductively, waved the mouse side to side as a smile crept across my face.  It could have ended there.  It should have ended there, but then she blurted, “Don’t you dare throw that dead mouse at me!”   Funny thing, it hadn’t ever occurred to me until she said it.  I’d never experienced such power before in my life!  I stepped toward her and she took off running.  Knowing she could easily outrun me, I made a completely unpremeditated choice.  You see, Reuben and I had been playing ball, playing ‘catch’ since I was three.  So, instinct told me to throw hard.  The skin tight dry mouse arched high in the air.  The moving target was screaming.  I watched in utter amazement as the mouse hit the back of Olive’s head and fell harmlessly to the forest floor.  But the harm had been done.  The screaming escalated to shrieks and finally subsided, only to be replaced by the combined laughter of the two brothers who were out of control.  Amazing!  A historical moment!  I was a hero!  The hilarity sobered somewhat as the strawberry picking adventure ended with the threatening words, “You just wait till I tell Mom!”

I knew trouble was coming.  It did.  The house always wins.  It hurt.

On the positive side, perhaps my potential baseball career was launched that day as Reuben commended me on my amazing arm!  It was all worth it after all.

Story Number 4

The Bike Lesson

I rode the Black Tusk yesterday.  My trusty, tough bike with knobby tires purchased somewhere near the beginning of time…at least before ‘shocks’ were invented.  Mission Creek Mountain Bike Skills Park was the destination, a mere four kilometers from our place.  There are several levels of skill needed to navigate the course.  Seeing I didn’t know anyone else in the park, I selected the second most challenging run.  The plan was to roll down the first ramp with minimal speed, roll over the second jump with no air and gain confidence along the way.  I watched a young boy successfully complete the run.

The view from the top was a bit of a warning, but you know, my age, my 70+years of life experience, brushed that aside.  Perhaps a touch of arrogance blurred the reality.  I failed to account for the fact that my weight might add to the speed.  I failed to calculate the amount of space that might separate my tires from the gravel.   I failed to acknowledge the Black Tusk was woefully ill equipped for this environment.  The lack of shocks on my old faithful bike suggested the need for a small miracle upon landing.

My speed coming down the ramp was twice as fast as the young lad before me.  The bike effortlessly raced up the first rise and shot into the air.  It’s interesting how many thoughts can be processed by our brain in a moment of crisis.  Several internal voices screamed simultaneously:

a.     Wilf is an idiot!!

b.     You are 71, not 17!!

c.     Remember the biker who broke or dislocated five body parts last week!!

d.    This could hurt!

e.     You don’t have to do this!!

f.       MOMMY!!

No one clapped as the Black Tusk miraculously landed, hit the ground hard and shot ahead.  I caught a breath as my brain screamed, “You don’t have to do this!”

I obeyed.  The brakes screeched, the bike skidded and stopped in a swirl of rocks and dust, just before I reached the apex of the next jump.  I laid the bike on its left side and unceremoniously slid backwards down the jump.  It wasn’t pretty.  Nothing was broken – just a slightly bruised ego that was quickly replaced with the thought,

“Better to be a live ‘chicken’, than a dead fool.”

Life lesson:  There are times to leave it alone. 

Story Number 5

A True Fish Tale

August 3, 1977

After having worked and lived in Watson Lake the past year, Pearl and I had returned to Kelowna for most of July.  Old Crow would be our future home, but on our way back to the Yukon, we helped staff the brand-new Watson Lake Bible Camp for its one week session.  After camp, Ron and Sheila Frank offered us their home while they went south for the month of August.  August 3 was a warm, sunny day.  The canoe and the lake were calling.  As we paddled around the pristine water, our fishing rods hung over the side.  The tug on my line got the adrenaline flowing and even more so when the chubby, two-pound Dolly Varden was secure in our canoe.  I kind of felt good about the catch – almost took it personally.

We decided to go to the far bay before calling it a day.  After a while we noticed Pearl’s line was tightening…no tug, probably just another snag.  She held the line, and I paddled toward the spot.  Suddenly her line accelerated toward us and shot under the canoe.  “It’s not a snag!” 

“Get the net, get the net!”  Pearl’s voice escalated as the line came back under us and then dashed back again.  The decibels increased and instructions flowed frantically as I grabbed the net and Pearl kept reeling.  I thought the canoe was going over.  The white and silver flashed as I plunged the net into the churning water.  The fish was too big for the net.  This was an epic battle; Pearl versus the monster fish and Wilf desperately, cluelessly trying to get the head or tail into the net.   Screams reached fever pitch.  The wild scramble off the side of the tilting canoe threatenened our very existence.  Suddenly two sequences combined as Pearl lifted the thrashing beauty and my net flipped the fighter over the edge.  It was over.  My seventeen-inch Dolly Varden paled beside Pearl’s thirty-one-and-a-half-inch gigantic northern pike.  What a surprise snag!  There was plenty of barbecued fish for our celebratory dinner that night as Pearl turned twenty-one years old.  She kind of felt good about the catch – almost took it personally!

Happy Birthday Pearl!!

Story Number 6

Susan Jerome and “The Battle of Jericho”

The Rutland High School ‘Glee Club’ (choir) spread its wings to hit the ‘big time’ in our provincial capital,Victoria, BC.  For us, it really was a gigantic leap and our Vancouver Island hosts were gracious.  They filled the auditorium to hear these Okanagan minstrels. 

My sister, Olive, played the piano. Reuben, my brother was taller and stood in the back row while the short Grade 7 sibling Wilfie was stuck in some insignificant middle slot.   Susan Jerome had the gift of height, so she stood beside the back riser on the floor. 

As one of the energetic songs in our repertoire came to a dramatic climax, we held nothing back.  “Joshua fit’ the battle of Jericho and the walls come a-tumblin’ DOWN”.  As if on cue, Susan crashed to the ground on the word ‘DOWN’.  Eric Poplawski caught her before she cashed out on the hard wood floor as the audience thundered its approval thinking Susan was part of the act! 

Our whole choir was in shock.  She came back quite quickly, as soon as her knees weren’t locked anymore and the blood started to flow again.  It was a onetime unforgettable object lesson on how ‘not to lock your knees’ during a long performance.  

Even though she was a star, Susan refused to offer a repeat performance.

Story Number 7

Keeping it Real in School

As a classroom teacher, music & science teacher and especially teacher librarian, my goal was to keep each day lesson interesting and ‘real’.  Every day needed a special twist or surprise in the class:  The point system of adding points for positive behaviour and class contributions  added spice; “news” from about 4 -6 students per day brought variety; a group game changed things up; the Chinese fire drill on a dull afternoon got the sap flowing along with jokes, trivia, poems, science experiments, magic tricks, air bands and puppet shows.  There were days in the Library when we’d never get past the introduction, but it didn’t matter.  The kids didn’t want to miss Library…even showed up sick.  They were interested, inspired and engaged.

For example: Real spiders and webs lit up a look at the Dewey 595.44 section.  Soon kids were bringing all sorts of spiders to school, or calling me outside to show me a web in the forest.  Spiders are stunning creatures and although we don’t want them in our houses, we learned to respect and appreciate these athletic, creative, diverse creatures that freak out many human beings.  When we saw the spinnerets that can produce up to nine different kinds of silk from one spider, or looked at legs, the multiple eyes or the fascinating webs it was awe inspiring.  The library books flew off the shelves.  Spider stories were shared without the fear factor.  I believe a lot of arachnophobias were reduced by these ‘real’ lessons.

One Sunday afternoon, Pearl and I were on the Enderby Riverwalk when an 18-inch garter snake slithered across the path.  Remember, ‘school’ is always on the mind of some teachers.  In an instant, the tail of the snake was in my hand.  Of course, it peed and pooped immediately, but hands are washable.  Now I had another ‘real’ lesson for Dewey 597.96.  A large blue plastic bin with deep sides created the base for an environment of rocks, branches, leaves, water and a few worms, even my fake 18-inch rubber snake. 

‘Snake Week’ was born.  As the classes came in, I kept the bin covered.  The children were sitting on the floor in front of me, eager to see the ‘surprise’.  We chatted about animals and the fears people have around them…rational, irrational.  I mentioned that I wasn’t afraid of snakes, but that I respected them and kept my distance if they were dangerous.  I reached in the bin and pulled out the rubber snake, twisting it back and forth.  The kids weren’t startled, because we had chatted about it in advance.  The front row of students was about two feet from the bin on the floor.  I put on a plastic glove and said that now I was going to show them the real thing…a snake that was not poisonous.  Their eyes were bright as I reached in and pulled out the wriggling, live garter snake.  The reaction was instant…one I had not anticipated.  Have you ever seen anyone jump backwards while sitting on their bottom?  The whole front row somehow jumped backwards about a foot, without using their legs.  The real snake was electric…bigger than life.  Everyone settled down and soon curiosity won over.  They were fascinated, thrilled and wanted to touch it after it peed on my glove.  This lesson was repeated in many classes in Bastion and Grindrod over the years.  The stories, the learning, the excitement, the respect and inspiration became the norm.

This pattern was repeated many times with frogs, a whole collection of snails, 12-foot sunflowers with complete root systems, giant pumpkins which kids could sit in and parents and grandparents came for photos, weird fruits and vegetables (carrots, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes) …we almost became a weird fruit stand some weeks.  One day a doctor’s son brought me a frog, frozen solid in ice in a cottage cheese container.  They had found it dead in their swimming pool and the boy insisted he bring it to the Library.  It became an instant study.  To keep it from thawing and smelling, I sent it to the staff freezer in between classes.  Often, I’d asked one of the CEA’s (teaching assistants) to bring it out at the appropriate time.  I didn’t tell them what was in the cottage cheese container.  Neither did I ask them if they had any frog phobias.  It just so happened one afternoon, that I asked a CEA to kindly bring the container from the freezer as the kids were getting seated.  She gladly brought it to me and I started the lesson.  As soon as the word frog came up, she seemed unsettled.  When I pulled out the frog, encased but visible in the ice block, she nearly passed out.  This was a serious case of ‘ranidaphobia’, and she had survived…she was amazed and I was grateful for the positive outcome.  Plus, the kids loved the lesson and out went all the books from the Dewey 597.8 shelf. 

With sports we brought hockey (for two months), basketball, football, track & field, and other games to life.  We played ‘Steal the Bacon’ with a poem on tension, brought skipping ropes when we did skipping rhymes.  When you bring an animal, plant, ball, object or game into a library, it immediately becomes bigger than life.  One teacher commented, “You take such simple things and make them something ‘big’.

Science experiments were always a hit.  Kids saw theories, process, success and failures.  I never once was mocked when an experiment failed because they understood that failure was part of it and it gave them freedom to try.  I never had trouble getting volunteers.  They knew no one would mock them.  It was so much fun flying things around the room, even using bungee cords to shoot rubber chickens that screamed around the library.  It was not a subdued library many times, but I could have the place silent in five seconds without raising my voice.

Quiet time was lovely.  We read hundreds of wonderful stories.  We read great poems that were often funny or had interesting twists or a story.  Grade 6 and 7 kids would bring me their writing which I would share with the class.  Lessons on spoonerisms were hilarious.  The result of all this?  Books were signed out on all fronts – trivia, sports, science, animals, magic, biographies, baby names and on and on.  Parents sent questions and ideas.  I never had to advertise… kids did it for me.

Parents came to class and participated.  Only a few questioned the validity of things like playing hockey in the library.  The answer was delightful and a piece of cake… Hockey? Dewey # 796.962… Canadian history, biographies, science experiments, mapping (30 NHL cities at that time…now 32), animals (Penguins, Sharks, Bruins, Red Wings, etc.) and stories, lots of stories and world records – even Baby Brawn Hockey Superstar!

When a job isn’t really a job it explains why it is so difficult to ‘retire’.  I officially stopped full time at the end of June, 2011 with the promise to continue part time after that.  For the next years I took on jobs in Armstrong, North Canoe, Bastion, Lavington and South Canoe along with Teaching on Call.  Author visits also came with the territory after writing Baby Brawn Hockey Superstar followed by Baby Brawn Basketball Superstar and Fweddy the Wed Fwog Pwince.  The Baseball Bat (A True Story) would extend that part of my life into the 2020’s.  In the summer of 2018, I was asked to start up the Library in South Canoe Elementary, the new outdoor school.  I told them I could help someone start it up but warned them not to hire me.  Our plan was to volunteer again at Haggai International in Kihei, Maui for three months starting at the end of September.  They insisted and gave me a 3-month leave. It felt comforting to be needed, so I poured myself into establishing a solid base for the school.   Pearl was a major hidden part of the success.

We left for Maui on September 25, 2018.  What a fantastic way to spend life.  On Nov. 21, I reached the tender age of 68.  Was this the time to make a decision?  The kids at South Canoe Elem. had known me for three weeks.  My replacement would be with them till the end of December …three months.  Pearl and I talked, prayed and agreed that this could be the time to resign.  After emailing with my Principal and friend, we decided that although I’d be missed, the new teacher librarian was doing a good job and knew the kids, it made sense to write ‘the letter’.  On November 25, 2018, South Canoe Elementary and School District #83 in Salmon Arm, BC, received the announcement that I was resigning.  This gave them over a month to confirm my replacement as the new T/L.  She was the Mom of some of my former students in Bastion.  Little did I know that the Games Project and another book were in the future.  Since that time until now (2026) about 7000 kids have participated in Author Visits and the Games Project, with more on the horizon.

I confess to the joy of the adrenalin rush that happens when sharing stories and games with excited, enthusiastic audiences.  It took eight years to officially retire after resigning full time.  But, in reality, retirement still is not on the horizon eight years after stepping off the School District staff.  In fact, when I see a snake, or a snail or an interesting plant I want to grab them and share them with any age.  You just can’t get enough of rubber chickens screaming through the air or chunks of sodium blasting into space or children mesmerized by the wonders that God has built into life.