The Catskill Chronicle

By Jude Waterston

My father and I had an argument while he was helping me with some math problems I’d brought home from school. I wasn’t following his instructions precisely the way he wanted me to, and to make matters worse, I was, as usual, holding the pencil incorrectly, which always irked him. In his frustration with me, he stormed from the room, but not before peppering me with some stinging words.

It took me only a moment to make up my mind to run away from home. My older sister, Janet, often took this dramatic course in an effort to teach my parents a lesson. She sometimes walked all the way down to the train tracks, which we were forbidden to do. Her plan was to get run over by an oncoming train, and Mom and Dad would be heartbroken and sorry for how they had treated her. Unlike me, she never announced that she was fleeing; she simply left a note behind, explaining in detail the pain she was suffering at the hands of our folks.

One of her most unforgettable was fashioned like a greeting card and had both words and graphics. It was entitled, “My Path is Getting Shorter.” On the cover is a drawing of a path strewn with the words, “A Journey to Seek Love,” and further down, “Try to Find Real Love.” Inside she wrote, “Sometimes you might love someone very much, but they just don’t like you. Love is what every child wants. But sometimes you just can not get it.” In what must have been a moment of guilt, she concluded with these choice words: “Truely (sic) your parents are trying to help you. Even if it doesn’t seem like it. They know their (sic) trying to help you. But you think that they don’t love you. Sometimes they don’t really love you. But most of the time they do.”

After angrily exiting my room my father had retreated to the living room with a crossword puzzle. He whistled along to Nat King Cole on the record player as though he hadn’t a care in the world. He had clearly put me out of his thoughts. I was infuriated. I ran up to my bedroom and grabbed the small paisley overnight bag I used for trips to visit my grandma Bella. I put my dolls inside, a book called Bad Mousie by Martha Dudley, and a brown and white stuffed rabbit named Bobo.

I flew down the stairs, throwing my father a glaring look he totally missed, and at the front door I called out in my loudest, most emotionally filled voice, “I’m running away!” I was fiddling madly with the doorknob when my mother appeared at my side. She put a steadying hand on my shoulder, and I turned to look up into her face, tears beginning to sting my eyes. “Do you have a minute? I could pack a banana, or would you rather have a sandwich to take with you?” she asked.

My mother knew me well. My usual scheme for running away was to walk to the far corner of the block, sit on the curb, and eat whatever she had handed me at the door. Usually, I accepted a banana. By the time I had finished my snack, I’d invariably forgotten what had made me angry or even that I’d planned to run away, and I’d return home.

I took a deep breath, unsure whether to bolt or take a moment to listen to her. The suitcase was already beginning to feel heavy in my hand, and I saw through the paned windows of the door that the sky was beginning to darken. “What kind of sandwich?” I asked. My mother guided me into the kitchen. “Actually, I was about to bake some coconut chocolate squares,” she said. “Would you like to help me?” “Sure,” I said, “I could take some with me when I go.” “Absolutely,” my mother assured me.

Together, we took the ingredients from the cabinet shelves and fridge and soon the kitchen was filled with the sweet, intense smell of cookies baking. “Go take your bag upstairs and empty it,” my mother suggested when we’d cleaned up. Once again the melodrama of my young life slipped from my mind and I headed toward the stairs, passing my father, still in the living room, who commented, “Smells good in here.” “It’s for dessert,” I told him. “How about a kiss?” he asked. I put the paisley suitcase down at the foot of the stairs and threw my arms around his neck.

Chewy Coconut Chocolate Squares

Makes about 16 squares

¼ cup butter (1/2 stick)

¾ cup packed brown sugar

½ cup all-purpose flour

½ cup mini semi-sweet chocolate morsels (or 2 ounces chopped semisweet or bittersweet chocolate)

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon salt

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

¾ cup unsweetened shredded coconut

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Generously grease an 8-inch square baking pan with about a tablespoon of butter or vegetable oil. In a small saucepan, over low heat, melt butter with brown sugar, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and cool slightly. In a medium bowl, mix together flour, baking powder, and salt with a fork. In a small bowl, beat egg and add vanilla. Pour into butter mixture and stir to blend. Pour mixture into flour and stir until blended. Stir in coconut and chocolate morsels (or chopped chocolate). Scrape dough into prepared pan and, using a spatula, spread it evenly to all corners of the pan. Bake for 16 – 18 minutes or until golden brown. Place on wire rack to cool for 30 minutes. Cut into squares. These keep well and retain their chewiness and moisture for a few days.