My brother, and a few friends of ours, had a mystery club. We buried treasure; concocted great adventures and we were even chased away by villains once or twice during a “stake-out”.
We had a theft too. That was a BIG mystery. Who in their right mind would have dug up our dues jar for a measly few dollars. Unfortunately, I solved the mystery by being the recipient of my brother generosity of ice cream and candy. Generosity he couldn’t afford. I didn’t have the heart to rat him out.
The Member’s Lounge was a broken down shed you had to get on your knees to crawl into. Regardless, we took pride in our discovery of this unknown place and worked hard to make it into a haven we were proud of, even if it did attract snakes.
Most notably, a jet black King snake we named Blackie.
My mom accidentlly killed Blackie with a hoe while working in the garden one Sunday. She was waaayyy more upset than we were. I’ve never seen her cry like that.
I wonder what ever happened to Wendel, my childhood crush and the President of our Mystery Club. Even then, I was attracted to bad boys… a preacher’s son too.
Today, we had to cut down a huge white oak that lived at the edge of the forest at my childhood home. It was rotting and close to the house. I’m sad to see the tree go but I’m joyful about the flood of memories it brought back to me.
My boyfriend is an Arborist and took the tree down. He is also a preacher’s son and (thank goodness) a good guy. Maybe, after all of these years I did learn something about the mystery of men, trees and home.