Because of our unplanned vacation from our truck and trailer, we were thrown upon the hospitality of the pastor and his family in Minnesota. They were exceedingly gracious, though, and gave us a room and several spaces on the floor for the kids, and we crashed at their house for the interim. The men left almost immediately for the scheduled sportsman’s retreat, which is just a way of saying they will escape all civilization and live, if only for a few days, the unrestrained life of which they all dream – fishing, eating, hunting, eating, playing games, eating, and well, you get the picture. Josiah is proud to be included in these masculine forays into the remote wilderness of the lake country, and it is he who became the star of the next adventure.
During one of the eating episodes of this trip, the men and boys, about forty in number, went to a fish fry and buffet about twenty miles distant from the retreat site. Josiah, having blown out his tennis shoes during the week, had bound them with voluminous swaths of duct tape, giving himself the appearance of something between an astronaut and the Tin Man of Oz. In the melee that followed an all-you-can-eat meal, the men began to depart in their caravan of vehicles. In a quintessential act of bad timing, Josiah decided to answer the call of nature at this point. Since he had not ridden to the restaurant with Paul, his absence was not noted by that observant person, and in the food-induced coma state of the others, they neglected to see that one of their passengers was missing. Hence, our son unwittingly became the poster child for the political agenda, “No Child Left Behind.”
Due to the nature of the activity schedule and the relative chaos of a large group, his absence continued to go unnoticed. Meanwhile, back at the restaurant, Josiah, having witnessed to the wait staff, waited in vain for his ride to return. After some time, he asked if his all-you-can-eat buffet was still in effect, and upon being told that it was, went back inside and happily helped himself to another plate. Upon further reflection, the thought crossed our minds that perhaps this was his goal all along, but it cannot be unequivocally proven. Apparently, after watching him consume more food, the restaurant staff became worried about losing their day’s profit, and after the space of about two hours, decided to call the local authorities to report this poor foundling that had been left, quite literally, on their doorstep.
I would be remiss if I did not add that Josiah had tried to call his dad, but because of the remote locale, the cell phone signal was not adequate. He did not know the land line number to the cabin, and the ensuing confusion was epic. In a typical junior-high style, he never even thought about calling his mother, who DID know the cabin number, but all in all, he acted with surprising clarity of mind.
By this time, Paul was beginning to wonder why he had not seen Josiah in the teeming mass of campers, but assumed that he was asleep in the cabin. When the call rang out through the camp that the sheriff was looking for Paul, he assumed it was just another practical joke, the kind that men enjoy playing on one another. However, it became readily apparent that the sheriff was indeed looking for the shiftless lout who had left his son sitting at the restaurant for two hours without noticing he was even gone. Doubtless, the duct tape shoes only added to the suspicious train of thought that was already speeding through this man’s head. After a severe lecture on the evils of bad parenting skills, the arm of the law told Paul that he could expect a visit from Social Services, known for their especially aggressive tactics in that part of the country.
Suffice it to say, we went to great lengths to ensure that this undesired and unnecessary encounter never took place. The following Sunday, our son was showered with shoes of all kinds, and made out like the proverbial bandit with six (some new, some new-to-him) pair of shoes. I’ve been thinking of how to utilize duct tape to my advantage when my shoe choices become somewhat limited, but haven’t quite figured it out yet.
Meanwhile, back in Madison, Wisconsin, the truck was still not ready. The delay gave us time to visit a church in South Dakota where some of our dearest friends hold their membership. After that mid-week service, we reasoned that we would head back to Madison, get our truck and continue on with life. Little did we know what was in store for us in Madison.
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