A Bonus for You!
A new story landed in my inbox after last week’s “Shifting Gears” announcement, so subscribers can enjoy a post during the first of my two “gap” weeks before this newsletter resumes on October 5. If anyone has an anecdote to share for Sept. 28, there won’t be any gap at all! Email me at sandygbensonauthor@gmail.com for submission instructions.
Today, meet author Abbie Johnson Taylor, who has published three novels, two poetry collections, a memoir, and a collection of short stories. Her work has appeared in The Weekly Avocet, Magnets and Ladders, and other publications. Please visit her website at: https://www.abbiejohnsontaylor.com
William Henry Harrison
by Abbie Johnson Taylor
William Henry Harrison was a policeman who came to our home a couple of times when I was growing up and made an impression on my younger brother. In the spring of 1975, my mother was teaching English at the college in Sheridan, Wyoming. I was thirteen, and my brother Andy was six.
One night, Andy was in the living room, watching one of his favorite cops shows on television while Mother was helping me with homework in our parents’ adjacent bedroom. Suddenly, Andy burst in, wide-eyed. “Mom, there’s a policeman at the door!”
Not knowing what to think, I followed Mother and Andy to the front hall. I remember Mother telling Dad later that at first she thought Andy was imagining things. But this was no figment of his imagination. There, standing about six feet tall, dressed in full regalia, was a police officer. Through the screen door, despite limited vision, I spotted the flashing lights on his idling vehicle. “Oh, Bill!” Mother said.
This was different. Nobody on any TV cop show called an officer by his first name.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Johnson,” Bill said. “I missed class today because I needed to be in court. What’s the assignment for next time?”
A policeman was one of Mother’s students? That was unusual.
“Why don’t you come in?” Mother said.
For once, Andy was only too happy to turn off the television. As Mother briefly went over what was covered in class and gave Bill the homework assignment, Andy, instead of playing with his toys or rushing off to his room, sat quietly on the couch next to me. Finally, as Bill was getting ready to leave, he blurted, “I want to be a cop when I grow up!”
Bill chuckled. “Well, I’ll bring you a badge the next time I come, okay?”
“All right!” Andy said.
Bill was true to his word a few nights later. When he came, I was in my room, off the front hall, getting ready to take a bath. To get to the tub, I had to cross the living room and kitchen. For whatever reason, I had no bathrobe.
The year before, streaking was all the rage, no doubt made popular by Ray Stevens’ hit, “The Streak.” But I’d heard countless reports on local radio about people caught running around in the buff being charged with indecent exposure.
Mother had already started running my bath. What would happen if the tub got too full? Would Bill arrest me if I dashed naked through the living room?
Against my better judgement, I crept out and hid behind a chair near the doorway, working up the courage to make a run for it. I was afraid of tripping over one of Andy’s toys. If that happened, and I fell flat on my face... I lost my nerve and slunk back to my room, hoping Bill didn’t see me.
A few minutes later, he left. Relieved, I started hurrying through the living room. Andy, seeing me, yelled, “Uh-oh, I’m a cop. You’re under arrest.” Fortunately, Mother intervened.
I don’t remember Bill returning to the house after that. A few years later, I mentioned him to Mother. She said, “Oh, yes, his name was William Henry Harrison, just like one of our U.S. presidents.”
My brother’s name was Andrew Johnson. That was the name of another former United States President.
Andy never grew up to be President of the United States or a policeman. With a Ph.D. in physics, he now teaches that and computer science at a private high school in North Carolina. He no doubt remembers the cop who encouraged the career choice he made as a six-year-old.
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That’s all for now . . . Thanks, Abbie, for helping bridge the gap.
See you all on October 5!
Excellent story, beginning to end.
I always enjoy Abbie’s stories. Thanks for posting Sandy. And thanks for sharing, Abbie.