The Philip Twins
The war had just got over and daddy opened a Steak House on the main boulevard next to the Opera House. Business was great as everyone coming out of the Opera was nice and hungry and the thought of a juicy steak and mash potatoes was very appealing. That year Tim and I were born. Twins, squealed my grandma when she saw us first, how very wonderful.
Tim and Jim, we were two peas in a pod.
Mama was elated by us twins and made us similar looking clothes and when we pranced down the street, everyone would say, hey look at those two smart young boys, the Philip twins, are they not a handsome lot? Daddy would be very proud of us and take us in his convertible Ford T up and down the boulevard while we sat on the back seat with the hood down letting the breeze go through our hair.
We were inseparables, we would play together and all the boys and girls on the street would look at us with envy.
When we joined school, they would say, keep away from picking trouble with the Philip twins, they take care of each other. No one would dare bully us because we were two strong young boys growing up.
In the summers, we would go to grandma’s cottage in the country. We built ourselves a tree house and used to spend our days there reading comics and talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up.
Tim wanted to be a pirate and he would sail off into the ocean and return with booty of gold and precious stones. He said he would bring me whatever I wanted when he would grow up and be a pirate. I on the other hand, wanted to be a fireman. I would
rescue people from burning buildings and cats from high trees. I would drive my red fire engine up and down the streets and ring the siren as I would pass by. Those were happy summer days growing up at Grannies.
One day while running back to the cottage from our tree house, I found myself all alone, where was Tim I thought and looked back down the path. Nowhere in sight, my heart began to beat harder and I ran back down the lane. I found Timmy, lying next to the big oak tree clutching his chest and gasping for breath. Tim, Tim, what’s wrong I yelled and picked him up in my arms and ran back to Grannies.
They called the doctor and soon the ambulance came and Tim was taken away. No one told me what was wrong but that evening my dad and mum arrived and were very white in the face. I asked them what was wrong and they finally told me. The doctor would like you to come to his clinic for some tests.
Over there they took some of my blood for testing and had me run through some other tests.
The doctor then told my parents that the rare infection had only affected Tim and that I was all clear. Then I was told, Jimmy, your brother Tim has a rare blood disease that is slowly affecting his heart. They say that he needs regular blood transfusions and that I was one in a million who had a similar type of blood group. That would keep him alive but for how long they were not sure. We have to look for a new heart but to find one for Tim will be a difficult task they said with little hope.
Tim grew weak and was soon restricted to the hospital bed; I would spend hours with him there every day talking and reading stories to him.
Once a week they would take blood from me and transfuse that to Tim. Months went by like that and all we were looking for a miracle. I went on the computer every day to put out pleas looking for some solace when I discovered this website called www.iwishihad.com
When I contacted them I found that they were concerned with the terminally ill and helped to make their last few days with us better. I gave them our address and requested if they could make Tim happy in his last few days here.
That day, I had just given blood and was lying in the next bed to Tim, feeling a bit weak and drowsy when these three men in long black coats came in. No one else was around except Tim and I.
They came up to Tim and were talking with him in low tones that I could barely hear. They told him where they were from and then I heard Tim say, “I wish I had a heart as strong as…..”
And all I remembered was… chloroform does taste sweet.
- The End -
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Our Neighbourhood
Our Neighborhood
This story is about me, my friends and our beautiful neighborhood outside the hustle and bustle of city noise and pollution.
I am 12 and live next to Timmy my best friend. Timmy is only eight and never been to school. His parents are pilots and they fly all over the country. They have even travelled as far as Australia during one of their trips.
Uncle Tom lives opposite us; he is really old and used to be in the Foreign Legions. He was posted for many years in the Middle East and was also part of The Desert Storm. He usually has many stories to tell us and we spend at least one hour with him every day.
The favorite story that we both like is the one when the tank he used to drive went into a big ditch and almost toppled over. The crew tied a rope around a palm tree and used that to pull up the tank. But little did they realize how the tree was shaken that when the tank came back on the ground and they were standing around appreciating their work, a coconut fell straight on Uncle Toms head and he fainted. He still has a little bump which he lets us touch every time he tells his story.
Annabelle lives next to Uncle Tom and she sings so very beautifully. In her days, she was an Opera singer and often entertains us with some of her famous numbers. She still wears the silk gowns that singers used to wear and keeps her long blonde hair in a bun.
Down the road there are two empty plots but we have turned that into our play ground. We play cops and robbers and sometimes also cowboys and Indians there. The trees and bushes make good hiding places so we really enjoy ourselves. Sometimes the plot gets mowed and then we have to wait for fresh bushes to grow.
Donald Trump lives next door, his place is really swank and we often just pass by to see if someone famous is visiting. We used to see his third wife often but not anymore. The only regular visitor is his young daughter. He is one of the few who rarely comes out and mixes with others. Some say he is very rich but some say he has lost everything.
Arnold, Tim and I are best of friends; Arnold lives down the road but always comes by around 10ish. Then the three of us play games in the empty plot and run around up and down the lanes in our neighborhood. By 12, most people have come out and are moving about doing their own business. Sometimes some of the old timers get together for a game of cards, or smoke some cigars. One of them, Missy Boo is very old and she usually just walks to the end of the street and looks over the bushes mumbling away to herself.
This is our neighborhood, we have learned to love it and live each day happily.
However, there is one day that I like the best; it used to come far more often earlier but only comes once a year nowadays.They mow the grass that has grown high and clear all the weeds. The marble stone is cleaned well and some fresh flowers are placed there before saying a prayer and then .......
...............I watch my parents walk hand in hand out of the cemetery.
-The End -
This story is about me, my friends and our beautiful neighborhood outside the hustle and bustle of city noise and pollution.
I am 12 and live next to Timmy my best friend. Timmy is only eight and never been to school. His parents are pilots and they fly all over the country. They have even travelled as far as Australia during one of their trips.
Uncle Tom lives opposite us; he is really old and used to be in the Foreign Legions. He was posted for many years in the Middle East and was also part of The Desert Storm. He usually has many stories to tell us and we spend at least one hour with him every day.
The favorite story that we both like is the one when the tank he used to drive went into a big ditch and almost toppled over. The crew tied a rope around a palm tree and used that to pull up the tank. But little did they realize how the tree was shaken that when the tank came back on the ground and they were standing around appreciating their work, a coconut fell straight on Uncle Toms head and he fainted. He still has a little bump which he lets us touch every time he tells his story.
Annabelle lives next to Uncle Tom and she sings so very beautifully. In her days, she was an Opera singer and often entertains us with some of her famous numbers. She still wears the silk gowns that singers used to wear and keeps her long blonde hair in a bun.
Down the road there are two empty plots but we have turned that into our play ground. We play cops and robbers and sometimes also cowboys and Indians there. The trees and bushes make good hiding places so we really enjoy ourselves. Sometimes the plot gets mowed and then we have to wait for fresh bushes to grow.
Donald Trump lives next door, his place is really swank and we often just pass by to see if someone famous is visiting. We used to see his third wife often but not anymore. The only regular visitor is his young daughter. He is one of the few who rarely comes out and mixes with others. Some say he is very rich but some say he has lost everything.
Arnold, Tim and I are best of friends; Arnold lives down the road but always comes by around 10ish. Then the three of us play games in the empty plot and run around up and down the lanes in our neighborhood. By 12, most people have come out and are moving about doing their own business. Sometimes some of the old timers get together for a game of cards, or smoke some cigars. One of them, Missy Boo is very old and she usually just walks to the end of the street and looks over the bushes mumbling away to herself.
This is our neighborhood, we have learned to love it and live each day happily.
However, there is one day that I like the best; it used to come far more often earlier but only comes once a year nowadays.They mow the grass that has grown high and clear all the weeds. The marble stone is cleaned well and some fresh flowers are placed there before saying a prayer and then .......
...............I watch my parents walk hand in hand out of the cemetery.
-The End -
Linked to Toronto Star Article
Wonder if you saw this article ?
http://www.thestar.com/article/670063
http://www.thestar.com/article/670063
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)