Category: Short Stories

The Big Hammer

I went to church on Father’s day like so many others and listened to a Father’s Day sermon. It was a well-crafted sermon. The preacher used a small toolbox and related how a father needed some of the qualities of each tool. He explained how a father needs to be level headed as he held up the level. He needed to be able to measure out his love as he held the ruler. He went through every tool in the box and had a message for every tool.
As I sat and listened I naturally thought about working with my Dad. He was a mechanic and I spent my early years working in his outboard motor shop. He was a patient teacher and we worked together well. He would add in a few life lessons along with how metal parts work together as a motor. It was a simple time without things like cell phones or internet so distractions were few. I was blessed.
I inherited my love of unorganized life from my Pop. His work bench looked like a junk pile. Several jobs disassembled at one time and mixed together with broken parts and tools made it look like an impossible task to fix anything. People would look and shake their heads. Organized people would feel so uncomfortable they would leave after a few minutes. I can clean my workbench every morning and before lunch it looks like Pop’s.
My sister is a retired college professor and she explained to me how different people are the way they are. She explained that Pop and I are what researchers call a “random” personality. We don’t plan, we don’t do things the same way and we don’t organize things. We tend to be smart and adaptable. We also tend to drive organized people (called sequentials) to use strong drink and bad language.
In spite of Pop’s disorganized workbench there was something you could find. It was the big hammer. Maybe it was because it wasn’t used that often or maybe just because it was big but it was always there. I don’t exactly how big it was but it was big enough you didn’t use it for a regular hammer. You could tell it was old but it was solid. Pop joked and said it had belonged to George Washington. He would tell this to people and tell them he had replaced the head twice and the handle 6 times but it was still George Washington’s hammer.
I remember working on an outboard motor and having trouble removing the flywheel. Pop had already cautioned me about hitting the shaft with a hammer too hard and swelling the shaft. When I asked Pop what to do he studied the job for a few seconds and said “get the big hammer”. I went in the shop and retrieved it from its place of honor. I remember walking back to the job and wondering what was going to happen. Maybe we were just going to beat the motor apart. This wasn’t the type of hammer used for precision work.
Pop was waiting and took the big hammer when I got back. He put a pry bar under the flywheel and with one soft tap the flywheel was loose. I was surprised. I had already hit it as much as I dared and it hadn’t budged but one tap with big hammer had it loose and it wasn’t damaged.
When I asked Pop how come it had worked so well he had another life lesson. He explained how it wasn’t how hard you hit but how much you had backing you up when you applied yourself to a problem. The other hammer has to hit so hard it damages the part before it makes it move because it is a lightweight but the big hammer has momentum so it only takes a tap.
Like a lot of things he said I understand them better now than I did then back then. I have struggled with many things that would have been easier if I had a big hammer backing me up. Things like making a living are easier if you have a great education backing you up. Getting someone to believe you is easier if you have a reputation for telling the truth. Seems like almost anytime you set out on a task you need something backing you up to give you the momentum to succeed.
When I look around I see other people, businesses and even countries with the same problem. I watch as parents threaten children who scoff because they know they have never been punished before. I see a new business open with wild claims about what they can do with inexperienced employees. Sadly I also watch our leaders as they run for office make promises we know they will never keep. I call it magical thinking. We can borrow money to pay our bills and have enough left over to give money to everybody. If we borrow enough we can buy everything we want and live in paradise. This course of action isn’t backed up by anything but lies and fantasies. We know it won’t work but we want to believe in magic to solve our problems.
As I listened to the preacher’s sermon I thought about how much my Pop was like the big hammer. First he was always there. Not in the way but if I needed him he was close and ready to help me. Second he was a powerful tool. He had the experience of many years work and study backing him up. And third he didn’t overwhelm when I asked him. He could show me how to get it done with without screaming and flailing like a drowning person. He was a great Dad.
When I count my resources I see I have a few big hammers myself. A great family, a lifetime of experience and super friends. But my biggest hammer has to be my faith that it was God who put me here and all my “hammers” are on loan from him. When I have to give them back I want them to be in used condition.

 

 

 

 

What will we wear in Heaven?

(Written in June 2015)

It was a little over a year ago when the Chaplin asked if we needed any help with anything. My sister had been silent but suddenly said she said she had some questions about Heaven. When the Chaplin said “please let me help” her question was “what will we wear in Heaven”? I could tell he was not expecting this question. When he asked her to clarify she wanted to know if we would all wear white robes in Heaven or be naked or have outfits? If we had outfits would we wear the same thing forever or would you change each day? Could you wear more than one outfit a day. Were there places to shop for clothes or were they provided? What about shoes? I could tell the Chaplin had spent his time telling people how to get to heaven but like the rest of us he really couldn’t  say what we would be doing on a daily basis. I didn’t want to confound the poor Chaplin with more than he could handle but I had questions too. I wanted to know what we would do each day but I already knew what we would wear.

I have always been blessed to be a dreamer. While I’m awake I can dream up all sorts of things but it is when I’m asleep that I really show off. One night I might be a war correspondent gathering information during a complicated global conflict or maybe a sailor gliding over beautiful blue green water. I just don’t know till I go to sleep but I do know it is usually a great way to spend the night. I rarely have disturbing dreams. I have had a few but even those were not crazy or what you would call nightmares. Most are enjoyable, some enlightening and some down right funny.

Like the time I dreamed I was black. I dreamed I was in bed and my Mother ( who was a large black woman) came and opened the bedroom door and told me to get up out of that bed and do what she had told me to do. That was when I looked at my hands and realized my hands were black. I had never thought about being black so I don’t know where that dream came from. When I told my friend Johnny at the shop about it he said “I wouldn’t have been looking at my hands”.

In spite of an amazing ability to dream while asleep the most amazing sight I ever had in my mind came while I was awake. I don’t know if is correct to call it a vision or a daydream but I know what I saw and it has remained clear for 26 years. I didn’t discuss it for many years because I didn’t want people to think I was crazy but I don’t think I can hide that anymore so I will share. Maybe there is someone that needs to hear it. God has a way of shining his light on something and letting it help someone.

It was on my birthday in 1989. I was shooting in a rifle match in Butner with the National Guard team. The Guard never cared if it was your birthday when they made the schedule. I was on the firing line when a police officer from Butner Public Safety drove up and asked if Tim Whealton was there. I immediately had that sick feeling you get in the pit of your stomach. He told me they had been notified that my mother was in the hospital in New Bern and not doing well. I left the range and started the 3 hour drive to New Bern. On the way I found out Mom had suffered a heart attack and cardiac arrest. She had been resuscitated in the ambulance and was alive on a ventilator. If you knew my Mom you knew this was the worst case scenario. She had retired as a hospital nurse and always let us know to never resuscitate her or allow her to be kept alive with no hope recovery. The ambulance crew had no way of knowing this and they did what they were supposed to do. Experienced ambulance crews will look for reasons to not do CPR but standing orders are clear, when in doubt resuscitate.

I thought about when I had called to check on her a few days before. I had asked her what she was doing and her reply was like so many times before, “just sitting here waiting for Jesus to say “come on Bessie!” That was my Mom. She had worn out her body and was ready to see her Lord and if you knew her of this you had no doubts.

When I arrived at the hospital my family was already there in the family waiting area outside the cardiac unit. The doctors came out and gave us the grim news. Her heart was beating but she was brain damaged with no hope of recovery. Even though each of us knew exactly what she would want us to do it was amazing how hard it was to say it was time to turn off the ventilator. In the back of our minds I’m sure we thought about those stories of people waking up but this was reality and we had to be strong for her and each other. She had raised us to be ready and we all agreed. After we signed the consent we waited in the family area in silence. That was when I had my vision.

I was sitting with my eyes closed and suddenly I was in the cardiac unit looking down the hall. I saw my mother come out of her room and start walking down the hall towards me. Even though she was coming towards me she wasn’t coming to me in particular. She had the most beautiful smile on her face and she was wearing a conservative gray outfit that fit well. As she walked past the open rooms she waved goodbye and smiled. With every step she seemed to be aging in reverse and was becoming more beautiful. Suddenly her progress was stopped and hands were on her shoulders. Her smile was gone and a look of fear came over her face. I was back in the waiting room.

I waited in silence with the others and after a long time the doctor came out with news. They had removed the ventilator and she wasn’t breathing but after a period of a couple of minutes she had started breathing on her own. Apparently there was enough brain function to make her breathe but nothing else. There was no way to predict how long this could go on but it was the worse case scenario. Four days later, late at night the angels came and she got to leave for good. I know exactly what she was wearing and how she looked.

I’m convinced you get to wear what you want. Just make sure you get there!

 

 

Timothy P. Whealton

The Big Hammer

I went to church on Father’s day like so many others and listened to a Father’s Day sermon. It was a well-crafted sermon. The preacher used a small toolbox and related how a father needed some of the qualities of each tool. He explained how a father needs to be level headed as he held up the level. He needed to be able to measure out his love as he held the ruler. He went through every tool in the box and had a message for every tool.
As I sat and listened I naturally thought about working with my Dad. He was a mechanic and I spent my early years working in his outboard motor shop. He was a patient teacher and we worked together well. He would add in a few life lessons along with how metal parts work together as a motor. It was a simple time without things like cell phones or internet so distractions were few. I was blessed.
I inherited my love of unorganized life from my Pop. His work bench looked like a junk pile. Several jobs disassembled at one time and mixed together with broken parts and tools made it look like an impossible task to fix anything. People would look and shake their heads. Organized people would feel so uncomfortable they would leave after a few minutes. I can clean my workbench every morning and before lunch it looks like Pop’s.
My sister is a retired college professor and she explained to me how different people are the way they are. She explained that Pop and I are what researchers call a “random” personality. We don’t plan, we don’t do things the same way and we don’t organize things. We tend to be smart and adaptable. We also tend to drive organized people (called sequentials) to use strong drink and bad language.
In spite of Pop’s disorganized workbench there was something you could find. It was the big hammer. Maybe it was because it wasn’t used that often or maybe just because it was big but it was always there. I don’t exactly how big it was but it was big enough you didn’t use it for a regular hammer. You could tell it was old but it was solid. Pop joked and said it had belonged to George Washington. He would tell this to people and tell them he had replaced the head twice and the handle 6 times but it was still George Washington’s hammer.
I remember working on an outboard motor and having trouble removing the flywheel. Pop had already cautioned me about hitting the shaft with a hammer too hard and swelling the shaft. When I asked Pop what to do he studied the job for a few seconds and said “get the big hammer”. I went in the shop and retrieved it from its place of honor. I remember walking back to the job and wondering what was going to happen. Maybe we were just going to beat the motor apart. This wasn’t the type of hammer used for precision work.
Pop was waiting and took the big hammer when I got back. He put a pry bar under the flywheel and with one soft tap the flywheel was loose. I was surprised. I had already hit it as much as I dared and it hadn’t budged but one tap with big hammer had it loose and it wasn’t damaged.
When I asked Pop how come it had worked so well he had another life lesson. He explained how it wasn’t how hard you hit but how much you had backing you up when you applied yourself to a problem. The other hammer has to hit so hard it damages the part before it makes it move because it is a lightweight but the big hammer has momentum so it only takes a tap.
Like a lot of things he said I understand them better now than I did then back then. I have struggled with many things that would have been easier if I had a big hammer backing me up. Things like making a living are easier if you have a great education backing you up. Getting someone to believe you is easier if you have a reputation for telling the truth. Seems like almost anytime you set out on a task you need something backing you up to give you the momentum to succeed.
When I look around I see other people, businesses and even countries with the same problem. I watch as parents threaten children who scoff because they know they have never been punished before. I see a new business open with wild claims about what they can do with inexperienced employees. Sadly I also watch our leaders as they run for office make promises we know they will never keep. I call it magical thinking. We can borrow money to pay our bills and have enough left over to give money to everybody. If we borrow enough we can buy everything we want and live in paradise. This course of action isn’t backed up by anything but lies and fantasies. We know it won’t work but we want to believe in magic to solve our problems.
As I listened to the preacher’s sermon I thought about how much my Pop was like the big hammer. First he was always there. Not in the way but if I needed him he was close and ready to help me. Second he was a powerful tool. He had the experience of many years work and study backing him up. And third he didn’t overwhelm when I asked him. He could show me how to get it done with without screaming and flailing like a drowning person. He was a great Dad.
When I count my resources I see I have a few big hammers myself. A great family, a lifetime of experience and super friends. But my biggest hammer has to be my faith that it was God who put me here and all my “hammers” are on loan from him. When I have to give them back I want them to be in used condition.

 

The Little 20

I wasn’t looking for one. Matter of fact I had already decided I had too many. Seems like this has happened before. Somebody will ask me if I want something and I open my mouth to say no and yes comes out. The question was “Do you want a bird dog?”
The correct answer to that question should be NO! A bird dog in eastern North Carolina means quail dog. Since there are not enough quail left to hunt there isn’t a logical reason to own a quail dog. They have to be fed, housed and carried to the Vet. They are hyper, bark a lot and can break out of Fort Knox when they smell something they want. Even worse this dog was a field trial dog. That means he will be extra hyper and prone to run great distances. Well the reason wasn’t logical but it was in my head from 60 years ago.
I saw my Grandad the last time 60 years ago but I knew him through the stories his friends and my Dad told. He was an old farmer in eastern Pamlico County. He was mostly self-educated but evidently very smart. He was well read and subscribed to newspapers from Chicago and New York. My Mother said he was like Ben Cartwright on “Bonanza.” Most important to me was the fact that he was a “gun man.” He was known for his shooting ability and literally hunted till the day he died. He had killed two deer on the day he suffered a fatal heart attack in 1956.
Even though he hunted deer when the opportunity arose he was best known for his quail hunting. This meant he had bird dogs. Usually several of them from what I heard. Quail were plentiful then and the terrain was different. The wooded areas would have fires sweep through every year and burn the underbrush and briars. As a result the woods were tall trees and low grass or broom straw underneath. Perfect for quail!
Quail have an instinct to hide when anything approaches and unless you know they are there you will almost step on them without ever seeing one. This is where the dog comes in. The quail dog runs ahead of the hunter and when he smells the quail he freezes in place until the hunters can get in position to flush the bird. This is called pointing. Then after the bird flushes (quail launch like bottle rockets) if the hunter brings one down the dog will locate it and bring it back to the hunter. This is the retrieve. If the first dog points and another bird dog approaches he should immediately point when he sees the other dog on point even though he hasn’t smelled or seen a bird. This is called backing. Point, back and retrieve are the holy trinity for a bird dog.
All through my youth I listened to countless stories about Grandad and his bird dogs. How his dogs were so smart they could do his taxes if they had thumbs and what a good shot he was with his “little 20.” That meant he was shooting a 20 gauge shotgun for quail. It took a little detective work when I was older but I found out the little 20 was a Lefever double barrel. He liked his big 10 gauge double on ducks and geese but said the 20 was just right for walking behind a dog all day. The choice of gauge or caliber for a gun was a big deal then. Frequent shortages made planning an important part of hunting. Ammo was rationed during war years and well stocked stores were hard to find during the depression.
My Aunt shared a story that I had never heard about Grandad. She said he would sit up at night during WWll and reload his shotgun shells. They were paper casings and would have holes burning through the sides before he would discard them. Grandad read in the Raleigh newspaper that a hardware store in Raleigh NC would sell a case of shotgun shells with every shotgun you purchased from them. First thing next morning he carried her (his daughter) to Bayboro and put her on the bus with instructions and money to purchase 5 single barrel shotguns and 5 cases of shells. A case was 500 rounds packed in a wooden box. She went to Raleigh and walked to the store and bought the guns and shells. Since she was quite attractive she convinced some young men to carry the ammo back to the bus (not everything has changed!) Grandad had enough ammo to last out the war! He gave away the shotguns to his favorite farm workers.
Rhonda went with me to meet Jay the bird dog. The owner had decided Jay had some faults that he would never overcome and was giving up on him as a field trial dog. He lived in the country and when you came down his driveway you knew you were in the right spot. Lots of dog pens, lots of dogs, horses, trailers and a quail house in the field. He met us and showed us Jay. He was total energy, jumping to the top of the fence. He put Jay in the box on the ATV and got two quail out of the quail house. After he released in the field we let Jay out of the box.
It was less than a minute and Jay was “on point”. Amazing to see that bundle of energy freeze completely motionless and wait for us. We took our time getting to him and he talked about Jay’s fault. When we approached the frozen dog and kicked the grass the bird exploded from the thick grass with wing beats too fast to count. As the bird flew away he fired a blank pistol to simulate the shot. Jay remained on point without blinking. He told me “now you will see what’s wrong. He approached Jay to touch him on the head and release him from the point. As he walked toward Jay his rear end squatted about an inch. That’s it! I can’t get him to stop squatting a little and it always takes off points. He told me he had spent 8 thousand dollars on the dog but decided it was a lost case and better to move on.
Jay went home with me. Everybody else that hunts with me has faults that make squatting one inch look pretty insignificant so I reasoned he would work for me. Rhonda is a push over for a pretty dog so that part was easy but I had another hurdle. Sammy and Dexter. Sammy is a 100 pound lab that is pure love. Dexter is a Yorkie that is focused on what he wants. He is 9 pounds of I want to do this my way. You have to chase him down when he gets out and if he sees something he wants like a frog he will hunt it all day.
As I expected Sammy and Jay became friends but Dexter would attack him every time he got a chance. Since I have to pay the vet bills I will just keep them separate. As a group, bird dogs have a high opinion of themselves and won’t let another dog dominate. Jay is the same way. He doesn’t want to fight but he won’t let another dog push him around.
After an adjustment period of a lot of love Jay has become my dog. I know why Grandad loved quail hunting now. It isn’t the taste of quail (fantastic) but rather a chance to hunt with amazing dogs. The dogs hunt like they do because that is who they are. They love what they do and it shows in their work. When they team up with a hunter he should feel honored to have a partner so dedicated and he will be humbled by their ethics.
We have already had a couple of good “hunts” on released quail. No it isn’t like hunting wild birds but it is our only option. Wild bird numbers are just too low for me to shoot one without remorse. And pen raised birds taste like chicken.
After the hunt last week I went back to work on guns. I was looking for parts for a double barrel on the internet and came across a gun for sale. I have more guns than I need and no way had I wanted to buy another one. In spite of that I looked just out of curiosity. It was a Lefever 20 gauge like Grandad’s little 20. It wasn’t perfect but the ad said a gunsmith should be able to correct the faults. It came yesterday.

 

 

 

Starting Over

 

You wonder sometimes if you can just start your life over. What would you do different? Is it too late? Can I do it? What will my friends think? Am I too old? Will it be any better? Will I screw it up worse and a million other questions that pop up. You start to dream about how you could fix every problem now that you know all about life. You can simply avoid the problems before they even happen.
Probably if you are old enough to read this you know problems and life go hand in hand. If you think starting over will let you avoid the problems you better stay where you are. You will take your problems with you and add more. I know, I have done it several times! Some because I wanted too, some because I had no choice. I’m not qualified to give advice because all I learned is that I don’t know the best way to start over. Luckily I never let not knowing how stop me from doing anything.
The best example of starting over in my family has to be my daughter Susan. She did it with a family of 4 and has made it work. She was working in real estate at Ocracoke, NC. Her husband James was born on Ocracoke and never lived anywhere else. With a 13 year old son and a 7 year old daughter I was sure they would stay on Ocracoke till retirement. With a lot of planning and a lot of guts they left everything they knew and moved the family to Alaska. I can’t imagine a more drastic move without leaving the USA.
But why would anyone want to leave a paradise destination like Ocracoke? It has spectacular beaches, salt water fishing, lots of visitors’ spending money and beauty. While it is wonderful to visit it is hard to stay. Everything has to come and go on the ferry. Being a playground for the rich has made the property values climb above anything working people can afford. If you want anything more than lunch or ice and beer you have to go get it. That takes a day! With only 6-10 children in each grade there just aren’t many things for kids to do on their own.
After they made one visit to Alaska they were committed to changing their lives for the future of their children. They left everything they knew and moved. Taking only a few possessions they sold everything else and bought one way tickets and rode the ferry for the last time. They didn’t have jobs, family for support, vehicles or a home. They did have confidence in their abilities and it was that confidence that made it possible.
When they left they took two friends with them. Both were volunteers that had special skills. When they landed they started the task of finding vehicles and setting up a home in a rental house. Then the volunteers went home and they started the more daunting task of finding a home and jobs. They were uniquely qualified for these task. Susan has worked on computer networks, waitress jobs, real estate agent, rental agent, store owner, and book keeper and Mom. James has more abilities than I can describe but his most impressive is he can design and build anything from a 3 story house to a go cart and likes to work at a pace that scares most people. Ocracoke people seem to shift gears as the seasons change and that mentality probably helped.
Since it was August when they left I was concerned about them going through their first long dark Alaskan winter. When the sun comes up at 10am and sets at 3pm and only climbs slightly above the trees it has to be a different world. But this crew seems to thrive on change and adaptation. The pictures tell the story. Arabella has learned ice skating, Jamie has become a basketball star, Susan was hired by a 24×7 veterinary hospital and then moved to another job with the gas company. Her old job tried to hire her back and the new job gave her a raise before her first day. James used his skills to repair the home they bought at a bargain and now has gone to work with a construction company. The pictures show that a family that use to try to get stuff has changed and now they are trying to do stuff. It has changed everything and they are all thriving!
Now the question is did Alaska bring the change or did the change bring Alaska? I know from talking with many people that have made major changes in life that it always starts with a phrase that is present in every story. It’s only two words but they are important and powerful. The words are “I decided”. It’s that point where you stop dreaming and put your plan into action. That point takes the most courage. You risk losing if you try to change but if you don’t you risk keeping a life you’re not happy with. That might be the biggest disaster of all!

 

 

 

A day in the gunshop

Maybe you think it would be fun to own your own business. A lot of people tell me having your own business is wonderful. They tell me you can set your own hours, work when you want and do everything at your own pace. I knew better before I started but I didn’t know how interesting it would be working with the public! You just never know what is going to walk through that door!
It was 630 am and a man came in looking a little weak. He sits and ask if I have a blood pressure cuff. I say yes but then ask why do you want your BP checked at a gunshop at 630? He says he has chest pain but doesn’t want to go to the ER and put up with all those test. I try my best to convince him to let me call 911 but he refuses. I even have an old EKG machine and print out an EKG. It shows abnormalities but I still can’t get him to go. Later the pain gets worse and his wife takes him to the ER. Doctor says his EKG shows abnormalities and he needs to go to the heart unit. He tells the doctor his gunsmith told him that at no charge. Doctor calls me to find out if I’m a doctor. I end up explaining and doctor brings out two pistols for trigger work.
Another day a man comes in early and ask if we are alone. He just got a call his wife was having an affair with another man. When he asked the woman why she was calling to tell on her she said she was seeing her too and cheating on her. He said he needed to talk to somebody and dropped off a rifle for cleaning and sight in. I had to make sure he was planning on using it to hunt deer instead of Dear!
Charlie comes in and ask me help to catch some cows that are out. They are in town in Cove City and running behind the houses. There are 6 cows each over 1000 pounds. I developed a new found appreciation for cowboys.
A mother brings in her daughter that has pushed an earring up her nose and can’t get it out. I can see it with my bore scope but I don’t try to remove it because she might aspirate it into her lung. I sent that one to the doctor! The mother tells others about my flexible bore scope and local people come in to look in their ears and noses. One ask if she can take it home overnight but I don’t loan tools.
A man comes in and was waiting to talk about his rifle. He is looking at a calendar and is upset from looking at a picture of a B52. He explains that he was in Vietnam and his small unit was almost wiped out by a force of 6000 North Vietnamese troops. They happened to be in front of this force that was headed to attack a Special Forces base. It was sunset and there was no way to evacuate. They were given all available ammo and instructed to dig in. Their officers came by and thanked them and said it was an honor to serve with them. They expected enemy contact shortly after midnight. When the enemy was less than one mile a huge flight of B52 bombers were rerouted from a mission to bomb North Vietnam and they started pounding the enemy force. The enemy force was stopped and forced to dig in. They evacuated his company at daylight with helicopters and he came home 2 weeks later. He didn’t know why but all these events had come back to haunt him in dreams over 40 years later.
The town drunk comes in extremely intoxicated at quitting time. I feed him some soup and take him home in my truck. I come back to the shop the next morning and find his false teeth on the table.

Two men come in with a woman. They are huge and barefooted. They have heard that my wife passed away and they have brought me their sister. They tell me she can cook and skin game better than a man. She doesn’t talk but smiles and she is missing more than one tooth. I look around for the hidden camera but there isn’t one.
Maybe because I’m a little unconventional I attract situations or maybe it’s because I’m a one person business. Don’t know for sure but it sure is interesting.