JOHN SELAND

HONEY CHIL’
BookWayHONEY CHIL’
JOHN SELAND
BookWay

Contents
A Piece of Gold……………………………………… 3
Here's for You………………………………………… 8
Just a Lot of Talk…………………………………… 16
The Fight…………………………………………… 24
Honey Chil'………………………………………… 31
The Stoning………………………………………… 41
Uncle George……………………………………… 53
The Tunnel………………………………………… 65
A Very Special Kind of Lady……………………… 74
Ronnie……………………………………………… 84
An Empty Show…………………………………… 99
Mrs. G.…………………………………………… 107

Honey Chil'Gold
A Piece of Gold
Mommy bent her head down as she leaned over thesink. She had her sleeves rolled up and was washingsomething. Everybody else was still sleeping, wrapped up
tightly in their blankets. Where was daddy? I whipped
off the blanket, slid from the cot and put my feet into mysneakers. Mommy didn't notice me standing behind her,watching. Then I turned around and jumped off thelanding to the sandy ground, standing for a while to rub the
sleep out of my eyes.
For no special reason, I started walking down
towards the pond. Now and then a frog would give a hop
to get out of the way. Scaredy-cats! Grasshoppers werealready out in numbers, some just little guys, but there were
big greeny ones, too, with long spidery legs. Theirantennae waved up and down as they sat on thin blades ofgrass, as if they were saying hello to one another. I tried
to catch a few, but every time, bing!—off they'd go
fluttering through the air.
Coming up to the dock, I tiptoed gently out towards
the end, trying as best I could not to make any noise.

3Crouching down over the far end, I slowly peered
underneath. Not far away, a couple of bluegills were lying
still and quiet in the shade just off to one side, fanning andfanning the water. Could I swoop down and catch one?
Just then, someone called from behind. 'Jackie!
Breakfast time!'
I scampered back along the dock up to whereRebecca was standing. She took my hand and we madeour way back to the tent.
Mommy had everything all ready. A big colorfulbowl of freshly picked blueberries sat solidly in the middleof the table. I took a little porridge, scooped some of theberries on top and added some milk and sugar. Every now
and then, daddy would take a sip of coffee, gripping the cup
with his big gnarled hands. The steam made nice smoky
lines rising up from the hot coffee. Once in a while he'dpare his nails, or give his teeth a suck, or nonchalantly lookout to the woods or down towards the pond. After a while,
he said, in the deep, slow voice that I loved, 'Listen,fellows! I'm going to buy something this morning. How'bout it? You two guys want to come along?''Sure, daddy!' I said, 'we'll come!''Okey-doke! You help mommy clean up the dishes,and I'll take you with me. Soon as you're done, off we go!'We rode through the countryside for about half anhour, then daddy brought the car to a stop and parked at theside of the road. A small house stood on the far end of a4

Honey Chil'yard full of freshly cut lumber. Daddy said he'd just beaway for a while, so we decided to look around a little, near
the car.
After a few minutes, Rebecca got an idea. 'Listen!
While daddy's getting the wood, here's what we'll do.
We'll play tag. First, you're it. You've got to catch me andtouch me. Then I'll be it. Understand?''Yes,' I said. 'I understand.'Rebecca started out, running on top of a pile oftimber, stacked about eight or nine feet up from the ground.
The wood had already been cut flat, so it was easy going.
When she gave me a signal, I started, running as fast as I
could to catch her. After a while, some fifteen or twenty
feet behind her, I saw her slow down, then jump from one
place to another. I came up quickly, but stopped when I
saw the gap between the lumber.
'Come on!' she said, beckoning from the other side.
'Don't be afraid! Jump!'
Backing up a few feet, I came up running hard andjumped. Everything happened very quickly after that, andI'm not sure of the details. I knew, though, that I hadn't
jumped far enough. I was lying on the ground, Rebecca
bending over me.
'Oh, Jackie!' she said in a frightened voice. 'You'rehurt! Stay here—I'll get daddy!"
When I put my hand to my head and saw it full of
blood, I knew that I was cut badly. There was nothing5

else to do but wait. Then daddy came. He lifted me up
and carried me as quickly as he could to the car.
Daddy raced the car down an old dirt road as fast as
he could, frantically looking for a farmhouse or any place
where someone could help and find a doctor. Rebecca andI sat in the back of the car, not saying a word. I could feelthe blood seeping down my face and neck. I was afraid.
We were all afraid.
When we came to a small house close to the road,daddy stopped the car and lifted me up again. The next
thing I knew, we were being ushered into a certain room inthe house by an elderly man wearing a long white coat.
'I've never done this before,' he said. 'But there's notime. Quick! Set him on the chair!"
The room looked just like the office of the dentist
mommy once took me to, with a big light overhead anddifferent kinds of little tools on a tray. It even had thesame kind of smell. The man approached and smiled.
'Little boy,' he said, 'what's your name?''Jackie,' I said.
'Okay, Jackie. Now, you have a little cut on yourhead and I'm going to fix it. It may take some time.'
Then, opening a drawer, he took out a pack of gum. 'Do
you see this gum? If you stay still and don't cry, when I'mfinished, I'll give it to you. How 'bout that?'
It being wartime, I couldn't remember the last time it
was I'd had gum. 'Okay, I will,' I said, mixing up my6

Honey Chil'grammar.
God only knows what went on after that, with all thepulling and pressing and squeezing. But at one point,
when I felt like crying, I happened to catch daddy looking
straight at me. I don't know—he didn't say anything out
loud—and yet it was as if I could hear him saying, 'Do it!
You can do it! Just a little more! Do it! Do it!' And,of course, every now and then I'd see the pack of chewing
gum sitting there on the tray.
Finally, the man stopped. He stood up straight, andthen put one of the tools on the table. His face waswet—even parts of his white coat were wet, and there were
blood stains on the sleeves.
"It's over! God, by God!' he said, turning to myfather.
Then he looked at me again. Seeing me staring at
the gum, he said, 'Oh, yes. Sorry! I almost forgot.'
Then he put the package of gum in my hand. I could feel
him pressing my hand firmly with both hands as he did so.
Daddy came and lifted me gently down from thechair. He spoke for a few minutes with the man, then hecarried me back to the car, my head swathed in bandages.
As he drove the car back slowly towards the camp, I held
the package of gum tightly in my hands as if it were a pieceof gold.

7Here'sfor
forYouYou
Here'sEvery place, I suppose, has something that makes it
unique, something that stands out and makes it different.
The same is true of Scranton. What I'm referring toparticularly is a time a little over a hundred years ago.
The city at that time was right smack in the center of thecoal fields running through the Allegheny Mountains, from
Kentucky, up through West Virginia and into northeastern
Pennsylvania. Besides that, there were the railroads.
Located right in the middle of the big cities—east and west
(New York and Chicago), and south and north(Philadelphia and Montreal)—Scranton was a hubbub ofactivity, and in its heyday a good four lines ran through thecity. But those were the good old days. In the 1950s,
after superhighways were built across the states, therailroads declined. So, too, did the coal industry, withnew ways, like oil and electricity, to run the factories andheat homes. On top of all that, cheaper cloth being
provided by countries in Asia closed the local lace mills.
Not everything went down, of course, and, ironically, thechanges led to some improvements. It became a nice8

Honey Chil'place to live in—smaller and quieter, the "Friendly City."
When I was a boy growing up in the forties, myfamily was probably typical of many others. We weremiddle class, I suppose.
Because of the economic
situation, there wasn't much money flowing around.
People counted their pennies.
My father was one of the lucky ones—he had a goodsteady job working for the A&P chain of grocery stores.
'In forty-two years,' he used to boast, 'I never missed a day,even if I was sick.' It wasn't the whole truth, exactly.
Sometimes he'd be bothered by ulcers and would leave
work early. But by and large, what he said was true—henever missed a day.
And so, as might be imagined, every year when
Christmas rolled around, mom and dad had to figure thingsout pretty carefully. We were seven children, but it wasan unwritten law that everybody had to receive a
present—not only one, actually, but because we would
offer presents to each other, we were able to receive many
gifts. Be as it may, I'd like to tell you about one particular
Christmas that I remember with special vividness.
Around the beginning of December, mom and dad
had decided that, with Christmas barely three weeks away,
it was time to do some shopping. And so, early one
afternoon, we hopped on a bus and took a trip to town.
Once downtown, dad turned to me and said, 'Now, gowith your mother! She's got a few things to buy and you

9can help her carry the packages.' It was only later that I
figured out just where he was going—to the bank to pick upsome money.
I still remember the first place we headed for, theGlobe Store, down in the basement. As we came down
the stairs, I could see a large group of children waiting inline to talk to Santa. Finally, after what seemed to be
infinity, it came my turn. I walked up to Santa, who gave
me a big smile and lifted me up so that I could sit on his
lap.
'Well, hello, youngster!' he said. 'And what might
be your name?''My name is Jackie,' I replied, feeling quite in thelimelight sitting up there on his lap.
"Jackie! That's a nice name. Now tell me, Jackie,
what is it you would like for Christmas?'"A red wagon,' I said, not in the least thinking thatsuch a present would be beyond someone as big and strong
and friendly as Santa.
'Oh, I see,' he said. Then, looking out at the mothers,
he said in a loud voice, 'Jackie wants a red wagon, does he?
Well, let's see what we can do about that. Thank you forcoming, Jackie! And remember, be good! Santa likes
children who are good.'
In a flash, I was back at my mother's side.
'Did you hear what Santa said?' she reminded me.
'He said to be good. Did you promise Santa to be a good10

Honey Chil'boy?'"Oh, I forgot, I said. 'I'll go and tell him.''No, that won't be necessary,' she said. 'Santa knows
everything. If you're good, he'll know.'
You can imagine how good I was from that time on.
Not only I; we were all good. Cleaning the snow off the
sidewalks, washing the supper dishes, shoveling coal into
the furnace and taking out the ashes—you name it, we wereright there, for always at the back of our minds were thewords, 'Remember, Santa knows everything! If you're
good, he'll know.'
Anyway, time passed quickly, though I think for achild it could never pass quickly enough. Midnight Massat Nativity Church was glorious, with the full choir and thechurch packed to overflowing. You couldn't get in after
eleven-thirty, that's for sure. I liked the procession into
the church, too. There were dozens of altar boys, and eachof us had a big tall candle. 'Hold it straight!' Sister
Helen'd tell us. 'You don't want wax all over yoursurplice.'
I was never too keen on the sermons for Midnight
Mass, unless they were by Father Fallon. Those of theother priests went right over my head, but he had a way ofmaking things more simple so that even the children could
understand. And, wouldn't you know, that Christmas Eve
was Father Fallon's turn. I'll never forget what he said.
'Once upon a time there was a young man hiking

11through the woods. After walking for some time, he cameupon a very large field. And, lo and behold, there on theother side of the field was a magnificent cliff, a hundred
feet high. Ah, thought the man, I wonder how good theecho is? Let's give it a try! Then he called out in a loudvoice, "I hate you!" Soon, just as expected, back came theecho. "I hate you!" Then the man continued on his hike.
'The next day, he decided to walk along the same
path. Seeing the cliff again, he thought of giving it
another try. But this time he called out in a loud and clear
voice, "I love you!"
I can't remember exactly what Father Fallon said
after that. Actually, now that I think of it, I don't think hesaid anything. He just bowed a little to the people andwent and took a seat. You could hear if a pin dropped, it
was that quiet.
When it was time for the Offertory, I was glad tomove around a bit. We fetched the cruets and handed
them to the priest so he could pour the water and wine into
the chalice. That was good. And so, too, was the 'Holy,
Holy, Holy,' since we could ring the bells. But then there
was the long wait till the Agnes Dei. I had all I could do
to keep from dropping to the floor, I was so sleepy. But
once we made it to the Communion, then it was really great.
Each one of us would go with a priest and hold the paten
under people's chins. Sometimes it was hard for the priest
to get the host in—some of the people wouldn't stick out

12

Honey Chil'their tongues far enough, so he'd have to pitch it insomehow. (The priests had a lot of practice doing thatkind of thing, so they almost never failed.) Or some of thepeople would stick their tongues way out and lick thepriest's fingers. I don't think the priests liked that too
much.
After Mass, all I could think of was home—homeand presents. Mom would always have some hot-crossbuns warmed up, along with eggnog. To tell the truth, I
think she spiked the eggnog a little with some brandy orsomething. Otherwise, none of us would ever get to sleep,
thinking of the presents under the tree.
Anyway, come early next morning, we sprang out of
bed and made a dash downstairs. Sure enough, just as I
expected, there under the tree was a bright red wagon.
Santa always kept his promises.
I was too young at the time to think too much about
the reasons for Christmas, although I knew, of course, that
we were celebrating the birthday of Jesus. Sister Helennever got tired of telling us about that. We also had thebeautiful Nativity scene along both sides of the altar and, up
above, perched on a wire, was an angel holding a sign:
Hosanna in the highest! Come to think of it, I also didn't
know too much about where all those presents came from, I
mean, the ones from mom and dad. Dad was a grocer andhad some money in the bank. That's all I knew. But now
as I look back, I realize that there was a lot more involved.

13

For one thing, there was a friendly spirit that sort of floatedaround.
We
didn't say many words, just 'Merry
Christmas!' or 'Here's for you!' But those few words
always had a lot of meaning. They went to the heart.
Years later, my brother Timmie, having finishedcollege under the ROTC program, decided that the bestthing for him to do would be to join the army. I still
remember what mom said to him as he was about to leave
home. 'Ask them if they'll let you come home for
Christmas.' And, wouldn't you know, by some good pieceof luck, he was able to come home for Christmas, eventhough he'd been in the army less than a year.
Now, I'm not really sure just how much soldiers arepaid each month nowadays; I think it's much better than it
used to be. But what I do know is that when Timmie
came home, the first thing he did was to go straight to town
and begin buying Christmas presents. Not just for mom
and dad; he bought presents for everybody. What did hedo then?
Crazy guy—he spent all Christmas Eve
wrapping them. No kidding! When I woke up early
Christmas Day, there he was close to the Christmas tree,
wrapping the last presents and pasting on little stickers withnames on them. You should have seen the look on his
face! Honest to God, though he hadn't slept a wink, I've
never seen anyone look so happy.
Everyone is a lot older now, and our roads havediverged in many different directions. But Christmas is14

Honey Chil'still a special time. And we still have the custom of giving
one another gifts, whether it's a parcel in the mail, a phone
call, or a direct hand-to-hand offering. It's wonderful,
really. I wouldn't change it for the world.

15

JustaaLot
LotofofTalk
Talk
Just
It wasn't supposed to take long. I only had to run to
the grocery store just down the street to buy some sugar,
salt and yeast. Grandma wanted to bake some bread, and I
was sent to get the ingredients.
Since it was summertime, it was still light atseven-thirty. Anyway, the dark didn't scare me anymore.
All those stories about devils with long tail coats andpitchforks were a thing of the past, and I could now laugh at
myself for being afraid to creep up the attic steps till I got tothe light switch, and how I'd breathe a sigh of relief once
the light clicked on. All that was for sissies.
Mr. Walsh, the grocer, sorted everything out,
wrapped it in three small packets, tallied up the bill andreached across the counter to give it to me.
'That'll be fifty-two cents, young man,' he said in afriendly voice.
I had the money in my hand already, two quarters andtwo pennies. (Grandma was always correct about thesethings.)"Thank you very much,' said Mr. Walsh. 'Your

16

Honey Chil'grandmother's very sharp, isn't she? Can't fool a soul likethat. Say hello to her for me, won't you?''Yes,' I answered, and headed for the door.
As I began to walk towards grandmother's house—it
was only four blocks away—I thought I saw in the distancethe figure of a man running in my direction. I didn't pay
much attention until he came closer, then I began to wonder
why he was running. Presently, as he came near, heslowed down, then began to walk. I watched him
intently, still rather puzzled. As he passed me, I got a
glimpse of his face. He was young, maybe about
twenty-five or twenty-six years old, tall, good-looking, anddressed rather nicely in a long overcoat, a suit, and a tie.
At that moment, although it was summertime, his wearing
an overcoat didn't strike me as odd. Later, though, I
wondered why someone would be wearing heavy clothes insuch mild weather. Anyway, as I said, when he passed me,
I got a good look at his face, or as good a look as might be
had at that time in the evening. He smiled as he passed,
and I continued walking up the street towards home. But
then, whether out of curiosity or because of some kind ofpresentiment, I slowed my pace and turned to look behindme. There he was, standing at the crossing, looking
towards me. After a few seconds, he began to walk in mydirection. Sensing that he wanted to talk to me, I stayed
where I was and waited. When he came close, he held up
a finger indicating that he had something in mind.

17

'Excuse me, little boy,' he said with a smile. "Canyou tell me where O'Malley's is? You know, O'Malley's
Bar? I'm not from around here. Kind of lost, actually.''Oh, yes,' I said, trying to be helpful. 'It's just down
the street. Go down to Albright Avenue—that's the street
down there—until you come to Walsh's grocery store.
Then turn left. It's just up the street on the right side.'
He smiled again, and drew a little closer. 'Say,
young fellow, you seem to know your way around here
pretty well!''Yes,' I said, 'my grandmother lives here.' I pointed
in the opposite direction. 'Right up there!'"Oh, is that so?' he quipped. 'And what brings alittle fellow like yourself outside at such a dark hour?'I held up the bag of groceries, trying to indicate mymission. 'I just bought some things for her."'My, my, isn't that something! Little Red Riding
Hood . . . different sex, though, isn't it?'At this point, he inched closer to me, so close that I
stepped back a little. Then he put his hand on my shoulder.
'Listen, what's your name? Can you tell me that?'
I didn't really feel like telling him anything, muchless my name but, feeling it would be impolite not to,especially since he had asked so directly, I told him. 'My
name is Jack.''Jack! My, my, isn't that a nice name! Reminds
me of the children's story . . . what's it called? Oh, yes,18

Honey Chil'"Jack and the Beanstalk." Isn't that it? Ah, yes, now I
remember.
"Once upon a time there lived a poor
widow. . ." Sorry, can't remember the rest. It's been a longtime. Can't forget the beans, though, and the cow. The
cow, hah! Can't forget the cow.'
As he was talking, one hand—I think it was hisleft—held my shoulder firmly; the other hand went backand forth slowly across my chest. He kept saying
something‚ but I can hardly remember now, having grown
so anxious with fright. I think it was: 'Perky little fellow,
perky little fellow, trading his mother's cow,' or something
like that. After some time, the hand moved down to mystomach, again slowly moving back and forth, back andforth. By then, I found myself frozen into a block of ice,
unable to move. I didn't even think of calling out.
Just around that time, another figure began to walktoward us from the direction of grandmother's house.
When the figure drew near, the man took his hands fromme and stood there, as if he was just having a friendly chatwith me.
Now, why at that time I didn't bolt for freedom or say
something is beyond my comprehension. God knows, I
had good reason. But, instead, I just stood there like astupid scarecrow. The figure passed by and, after sometime, once again, the man laid his hand on my shoulder.
Just when I thought everything would start all over again, I
noticed that the man who had just passed was pausing

19

before crossing the street. Then he turned around, lookedback at where we were standing, reversed himself, andcame walking briskly in our direction. That was enoughfor the man holding me. He took off with a violent burstof energy, entering an alley a little way up the street andperpendicular to where we had been standing. The
newcomer approached me, crouched down, and began toask questions.
'Are you all right? Was that guy up to anything withyou? What's been happening here?'
I was shaking so badly, I could barely manage to talk.
'I . . . I don't know,' I mumbled. 'I . . . I have to gohome now. Th . . . thank you. I . . . I'm sorry.''Wait!' the man said. 'Where do you live? I'dbetter go with you.'
Kindly, the man accompanied me the short two
blocks to grandmother's home. Once again, I thanked him.
He waited until I opened the door to go inside.
No one was in the kitchen, so I quietly made my way
to the living room and sat on the sofa. Presently, grandmacame. When she saw me sitting there, alone and quiet(probably looking as white as a ghost), she began to ask
questions.
'Jackie, what happened? Are you all right? Did
something scare you?'
I tried to explain that everything was all right.
There was nothing wrong. Then, like a cracked dam, the20