Money Angel

I led a kayaking trip to Tennessee over the weekend. The first night, we were enjoying the evening on the deck of our cabin when one of the participants asked if I planned to perform any miracles this year. Miracles?

“Yeah, like last year on the Tuck,” she replied and everyone laughed. She meant two years ago, but we knew what she was talking about.

On this annual trip, we usually append an option of paddling rivers in North Carolina, which is on the way home. In this case, the river was the Tuck, which is a little off the beaten path.

I was discussing shuttle arrangements with the group there. That is, how we would drop vehicles at the termination point of the trip, so we’d have a way of returning to where we put in. A spouse of one of the paddlers volunteered to simplify the process. Since she wasn’t paddling, she’d just pick us up at the end and shuttle us back up to our vehicles, so all we had to do was just dump the boats in and go. Great!

Except, about halfway down the river, her husband mentioned something that made all our heads spin around. Without getting into detail, it was revealed that her understanding (as related by her husband) wasn’t the time and place we would end the trip. Someone has better do something or all kinds of ramifications could result.

Someone would be me. I’m the trip leader and people expect a solution for anything and everything.

There was absolutely no cell phone coverage so I began to look for any sign of civilization as we continued to paddle. Finally, I saw a few ends of trailers atop a steep bank. There were some youngsters peering over the edge at us. “Are there any adults up there?” I yelled. They just continued to stare, Deliverance-like.

I climbed out of my kayak and clawed my way about halfway up the steep and slippery clay. “I said….” Ponk! One of them had chucked a clod at my head. And people ask why kayakers wear helmets.

“I said, are there any adults up there?”

“I’m thirteen,” called one of the tallest.

“Anyone older, like your parents?”

“My mom’s in Alabama.” Yeah, that helps.

It appeared I’d have to find out for myself. I continued my climb, keeping head down, in case of further bombardment. When I emerged at the top, I stood in a semicircle of five barefoot girls, ranging from about six to fourteen in age.

We studied each other for a minute when the door of the nearby rusty trailer burst open. “What the hell’s goin’ on out here?’ Oh good. Granny Clampett in a tube top and cutoffs. My day just keeps getting better.

Whys and wherefores would only confuse the issue, so I got right to the point. “I’ll give you $30 to take me to (whatever the name of the bridge was where we put in).”

“Whaaaa? How come? Why you dressed funny?” I’m the one dressed funny?

“We’re paddling down on the river and something has come up. I need to get back to my truck and I’ll give you $30 to take me there. Cash.”

Something came over her, along with a huge smile. She pointed a bony finger. “The lord done sent you to deliver me!”

“Perhaps I didn’t explain it quite right. You see…”

“I heard ya plain enough. I was prayin’ for some money to feed my grandchildren and the lord done sent an angel. Praise the lord and all his glory. Praise his angel and my salvation, praise…”

“Can I tell my friends I have a ride?”

She got her keys and we climbed into an old minivan that listed about 20 degrees to starboard. Thelma (her name) fished a crumpled pack of Luckies out of her top. She lit up, hacked heartily and bellowed for the kids to jump into the van.

The three youngest eagerly complied, now seeing me as a fascination. What, with me being sent by the lord and all.

However, the older ones resisted. “Y’all can stay but keep yer dern snouts outta the whiskey!” Thelma turned to me. “I don’t like them gittin’ sh##faced without me around.”

“Very commendable of you.”

“Lord knows I tryin’. That’s why he sent you when all this happened. Course, you already knowed that.”

“Well, he doesn’t always tell me everything, so why don’t you fill me in.”

Thelma lives with her daughter and her five daughters in Alabama. They have access to this trailer in North Carolina. Thelma’s daughter couldn’t get away from work, so she gave her a hundred bucks and told her to take the girls up to North Carolina and she’d join them the following weekend.

Thelma did that, but somehow got sidetracked to an Indian casino where the money “disappeared.” None of them has eaten for the past two days, except for Cheetos and potato chips. Go good with whiskey.

The few miles seemed interminable. I got out of the van, walked around to the driver side and held out three tens with my thanks. Thelma’s eyes snapped open with delight as she grabbed for them. A little too wide.

I didn’t let go of the bills. “It’s for food, not the casino.”

“Oh yes, I know. I learnt my lesson.”

I had some doubts and hung onto the bills until she made eye contact. “Good, because if you haven’t and spend this on anything but your grandchildren, the next angel won’t be nice like me.”

That seemed to register, so I added a twenty. Being an angel of the lord can have significant overhead.