{"id":8958,"date":"2014-12-01T01:35:21","date_gmt":"2014-12-01T06:35:21","guid":{"rendered":"\/nashvillereview\/?p=8958"},"modified":"2015-02-13T14:22:52","modified_gmt":"2015-02-13T20:22:52","slug":"gregory-wolos-yodeling-for-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/archives\/8958","title":{"rendered":"Yodeling for Life"},"content":{"rendered":"

Jesse\u2019s daughter Greta was invited by a classmate to see Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh<\/em>, the animated musical film based on her mom\u2019s autobiographical children\u2019s book, Yodeling for Life: the Panda Miracles<\/em>. They never made it to the Cineplex. A fight broke out in the car after the classmate said that Greta\u2019s mother\u2019s eyes looked big on the poster, even for a cartoon. Shouting elevated to pushing, then kicking. Eventually, Greta bit her companion on the wrist.<\/p>\n

The furious mother scolded Jesse on his front stoop after returning his daughter. \u201cShe nearly broke the skin\u2014there are tooth marks and bruising. Your child\u2019s a bully. The other children are terrified of her\u2014those things she writes. Nazi this and Nazi that\u2014she needs help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jesse had frowned. \u201cShe\u2019ll be getting help. When we move. But the Nazi thing is unfair. The report topic was \u2018animals,\u2019 and Greta wrote about her mother\u2019s grandfather. He was a dog trainer.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman\u2019s voice quavered. \u201cTrained Hitler\u2019s<\/em> dog, you mean. And she could have written about her mother and all the good she did with those pandas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBlondi,\u201d Greta blurted from her hiding place behind Jesse. \u201cHitler\u2019s dog was Blondi.\u201d<\/p>\n

The woman jerked back her head as if she\u2019d been slapped. \u201cYou can\u2019t play the \u2018motherless child\u2019 card forever,\u201d she snarled. \u201cIt\u2019s been three years. Get her out of public school.\u201d She pivoted and marched back to her car where her child\u2019s head floated in the passenger window like a Mylar balloon.\u00a0 When Jesse looked at Greta, she was chomping at the air.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Of course they were moving, and why not to North Carolina\u2019s Outer Banks, where they\u2019d vacationed, where there was a school\u2014a \u201cwellness center\u201d\u2014with programs designed for \u201cchildren adjusting to devastating losses\u201d?\u00a0 Nothing bound them to their Boston suburb. Greta\u2019s grandma Janet had finally passed away at the nursing home Jesse had visited weekly. Janet hadn\u2019t uttered a word or opened her eyes for five years before her death, surviving only because of what the doctor termed \u201can abnormally healthy appetite.\u201d No job tied Jesse down. The royalties from his wife Briggie\u2019s book, the sale of the film rights, and the insurance money from her accidental death made employment optional, at least for a while. He\u2019d earned double on the sale of his house what he expected to pay for a place in Nag\u2019s Head. As for Jesse\u2019s younger half-brother Austin, he\u2019d cut his few New England ties when he moved down to Baltimore for college. And since the community had already decided that little Greta was a pariah, there\u2019d probably be a celebration when news got out that she\u2019d be moving.<\/p>\n

Cartons lay everywhere, and, except for the sofa where Greta had wedged herself next to her father, all the furniture in the den had been wrapped in sheets for the movers. Greta held a CD that featured music from Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh<\/em>. \u00a0Greta glared at the CD\u2019s cover. \u201cThe songs are stupid.\u00a0 The singer doing Mommy sounds like Dracula. That\u2019s not a Swiss accent. And those aren\u2019t Mommy\u2019s lullabies. Why isn\u2019t Austin here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAustin doesn\u2019t need to come up here,\u201d Jesse said. \u201cHe took everything he wants to college. He\u2019s driving straight to Nag\u2019s Head. We\u2019ll get to meet Sarah.\u201d Jesse took the CD from Greta. The cartoon version of his dead wife Briggie showed her arm in arm with a smiling panda couple\u2014a pink bow distinguished the female. Cartoon Briggie\u2019s gigantic blue eyes peered up at a happy baby panda perched atop her head\u2014it held her blond braids as if they were reins. Musical notes poured from Briggie\u2019s open, presumably yodeling, mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Mommy have the same nose, don\u2019t you think?\u201d Jesse asked.<\/p>\n

Greta snatched the CD back and squinted eyes as big and blue as her cartoon mom\u2019s. \u201cThere isn\u2019t<\/em> any nose, Daddy!\u201d She tossed the CD back onto the trash pile and frowned at her father. \u00a0\u201cAustin said it\u2019s a man who\u2019s doing Mommy\u2019s voice. And I still haven\u2019t seen the movie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll go with Austin at Nag\u2019s Head.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou saw it. Tell me about Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh<\/em>.\u201d Greta laid her head on Jesse\u2019s shoulder and cuddled against him. He remembered when his baby girl slept between him and Briggie, and he\u2019d been jealous that he couldn\u2019t nurse her. With Greta latched to her nipple, Briggie would lift her knee to touch Jesse\u2019s thigh, and he\u2019d cup his daughter\u2019s warm head in his hand and feel the rhythm of her sucking. Now Greta ran her hands up Jesse\u2019s arm and gripped his bicep. Her fingers tightened like a blood pressure cuff.<\/p>\n

Jesse exhaled. \u201cYou heard the songs,\u201d he said. \u201cThe movie\u2019s not like Mommy\u2019s book.\u201d\u00a0 He looked over the stacked boxes and displaced furniture. \u201cIt\u2019s kind of a mess in here.\u201d He scanned the naked walls.\u00a0 Which packed-away pictures had been on which nails and hooks? Neither Yodeling for Life<\/em> nor Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh<\/em> finished Briggie\u2019s story. Both book and movie ended with the promise of future happy reconciliations between mother pandas and rejected infants. But, shortly after the book\u2019s publication, a panda-mom committed to the extinction of her species had bitten Briggie on the shoulder at a zoo in Brussels, poisoning his wife\u2019s blood with the \u201cone-in-a-million\u201d infection that confounded doctors and killed her a month before Greta\u2019s seventh birthday. The latest edition of Yodeling for Life<\/em>, available for holiday purchase, substituted silly pictures from the movie for photographs of Briggie and pandas. The original back cover author-photo of Briggie, showing her laughing on a beach with Jesse and baby Greta, had been replaced by a picture of a cartoon panda licking an ice cream cone.<\/p>\n

The pair of urns still sat on the mantle over the fireplace. These, along with a couple of suitcases and some Christmas decorations and gifts, were among the few things Jesse and Greta planned to keep with them in the SUV on the drive to Nag\u2019s Head. The movers would transport everything else to an Outer Banks storage facility where it would stay until Jesse bought a permanent home. The fancier urn, polished brass, contained the ashes of Jesse\u2019s mother.\u00a0 The other, a tin box, held the remains of Pirate, the rescue dog the family had adopted shortly after Briggie\u2019s death. Pirate had been an unsuccessful experiment\u2014its second day in the house, the dog attacked Greta\u2019s leg when she stepped too near its food bowl. Jesse had to beat Pirate off with a spatula. The tear in Greta\u2019s knee took thirty stitches to close. She\u2019d need cosmetic surgery when she stopped growing. Pirate had been euthanized before sundown.<\/p>\n

But Greta held no grudge against the dog and insisted that they keep Pirate\u2019s ashes. \u201cAustin says he\u2019s mixed with the ashes of all the dogs they killed that day,\u201d she said. \u201cSome of them must have been good dogs. So maybe whoever decides about getting into doggie heaven will be confused. Pirate couldn\u2019t help not being trained.\u201d<\/p>\n

Briggie had neither ashes nor a gravesite. Somewhere Jesse had a cache of \u201cthank you\u201d letters from individuals who\u2019d benefited from the distribution of her organs. She\u2019d willed whatever couldn\u2019t be harvested to a research hospital. Officials had sent a form letter expressing their appreciation. Jesse planned to erect a memorial which, now that they were moving, would have to be in Nag\u2019s Head.<\/p>\n

Greta must have seen Jesse\u2019s attention drift to the mantle. \u201cI have an idea about Mommy\u2019s ashes,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour mother doesn\u2019t have ashes. You know that.\u201d Jesse blinked at the bare wall above the urns. In a scene from Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh<\/em>, the cartoon version of his wife tiptoed across the concrete floor of a panda enclosure, clutching an over-sized infant panda to her chest and yodeling softly, accompanied by a chorus of zoo employees and animals.\u00a0 Animated Briggie laid the newborn on a bed of bamboo leaves behind the hulking back of its disinterested mother.<\/p>\n

Jesse frowned at the urns. At least he and his daughter still had each other.<\/p>\n

Greta tugged at his arm. His daughter\u2019s face was inches from his. \u201cNo, listen\u2014\u201d she said, \u201cwe\u2019ll burn Yodeling for Life<\/em>\u2014the old one, with Mommy\u2019s picture on the cover. We can burn it on the beach at Nag\u2019s Head. Mommy loved it there. We\u2019ll burn it, and the ashes will blow into the ocean.\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cAustin said you drove him once to Chincoteague to see the ponies on the way to North Carolina.\u201d Greta had pulled out one of her iPod\u2019s earbuds and pouted at her father. \u201cWhy don\u2019t I get to go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was ten years ago.\u201d Jesse stared at the Interstate unspooling to the horizon. \u201cWe can\u2019t stop everywhere if we\u2019re going to get to Nag\u2019s Head by Christmas Eve. Six hundred miles in one day, that was the deal. Besides, you were with us at Chincoteague. And we didn\u2019t see a single pony. Just poop.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was a baby.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSix months old.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMm. I think I do<\/em> remember,\u201d Greta said. She pulled out the second earbud and wrapped the wires around the iPod. \u201cMommy couldn\u2019t go because she had to yodel to some pandas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right. Like on all her emergencies.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you brought Mommy\u2019s milk, and you and Austin fed me bottles. I remember that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUn-hunh. Sure you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat wasn\u2019t the time\u2026 that couldn\u2019t have been the time\u2026\u201d Greta\u2019s voice shrank to a murmur. Silence hung. She shook her head. \u201cI was six years old when Mommy died, not six months.\u201d Greta twisted in her seat, and Jesse caught her looking behind them, where five first-edition copies of Yodeling for Life<\/em> were stacked between her grandmother\u2019s and Pirate\u2019s urns. One safety belt secured everything.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know there\u2019s another herd of wild horses on the upper part of the Outer Banks,\u201d Jesse said. \u201cMaybe they\u2019ll wander down to Nag\u2019s Head.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMommy loved<\/em> Nag\u2019s Head. I remember Mommy and Austin carrying me up the sand dunes.\u00a0 She lifted me up, and I was on top of the world. I saw a slice of ocean, way off. When I close my eyes I can see it. Like a piece of blue pie.\u201d Greta paused. \u201cThe sand dunes are nice, but we should do Mommy\u2019s ashes right next to the ocean. On the beach. So she can be with the spirit of her grandpa. Austin says we\u2019re going to be right where her grandpa was when he saw America from his submarine.\u201d<\/p>\n

Briggie\u2019s grandfather, a minor Nazi official, had fled to Zurich and changed his name after the Second World War. Briggie had told Jesse about her family\u2019s \u201cNazi-in-the-closet\u201d when she\u2019d become pregnant with Greta. \u201cNo secrets,\u201d she\u2019d said. \u201cOur family starts with a clean slate.\u201d But it had been impossible to keep stories about \u201cNuzzi Great-Grandpa\u201d from sneaking into family lore: Nuzzi Great-Grandpa had trained Hitler\u2019s dog; Nuzzi Great-Grandpa had been on one of the U-Boats that torpedoed American oil tankers off the North Carolina coast.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be a good idea to keep the Nazi stuff to a minimum around Sarah, don\u2019t you think?\u201d Jesse asked. His back ached from the hours he\u2019d already spent behind the wheel. \u201cShe\u2019s Jewish, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Greta didn\u2019t respond, Jesse glanced over. She was frowning. \u201cAll he did was look at America and train a dog,\u201d she grumbled with the trace of her mother\u2019s accent she sometimes affected. \u201cWhy does everybody hate him so much? Why can\u2019t we just be ourselves in front of Sa-ruh<\/em>? Hey, look\u2014 hello!\u201d Greta waved madly at the van they were passing. The children in its backseat were waving back, pointing at the rear of the SUV and giving thumbs-ups.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey see our Frosty the Snowman and Christkindli!\u201d Greta pressed against her window, still waving at the van long after they\u2019d left it behind. \u201cThey were probably saying, \u2018Merry Christmas.\u2019\u201d She settled back into her seat. \u201cIt\u2019s nice we brought the Christmas decorations and presents and stuff for when we get there. Do you think Sarah will get it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cChristmas?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI mean the ashes and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure she\u2019s smart enough to get it.\u201d Jesse kept his own uneasiness about the book burning to himself. \u201cYou know, honey, sometimes there are things inside a family that other people don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSecrets?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot exactly. Just things people might not get unless they grew up with them. Those kids who were waving\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey saw Frosty and Christkindli in the window.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I mean. Do you think they get Christkindli? I<\/em> barely get Christkindli.\u201d<\/p>\n

Greta sat quietly. Jesse focused on a pair of distant trucks riding parallel, blocking both lanes. \u201cChristkindli is Mommy\u2019s,\u201d she said. \u201cThe Swiss don\u2019t have Santa Claus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight. Nobody\u2019s trying to take away Christkindli. But even the Swiss don\u2019t agree on what Christkindli is\u2014a boy-child? A beautiful angel-woman with a crown?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe angel-woman with a crown!\u201d Greta shouted. \u201cThat\u2019s why our Christkindli is the Statue of Liberty. Mommy said, \u2018This is America. Christkindli is Lady Liberty.\u2019 We bought our Christkindli at the Bronx Zoo souvenir shop, and blew her up on the way home. Remember? Mommy and I took turns. Maybe some of Mommy\u2019s air is still in her.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jesse peeked in his rearview at the inflatable Statue of Liberty squashed beside plastic Frosty against the SUV\u2019s back window. \u201cI think you better not make a big deal about your knee scar in front of Sarah either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2014she needs to know why we killed Pirate. And Jesse says the scar isn\u2019t really a swastika anyway. It points the wrong way. Or the right<\/em> way. It\u2019s some kind of Hindu symbol for something that\u2019s not so bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think you\u2019re better off not mentioning it. It\u2019s another family thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo Sarah\u2019s not family? Is it because she\u2019s Jewish?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say she isn\u2019t family. She\u2019s Austin\u2019s friend. She\u2019s a family guest. She\u2019s too new to be family. But she might be someday, you never know. I met your mom when we were Austin and Sarah\u2019s age.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes Sarah know I\u2019m going to go to school in a mental hospital?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a \u2018Wellness Center,\u2019 not a mental hospital. \u2018Nag\u2019s Head Wellness Center.\u2019\u201d Jesse hunched to relieve his back. The road disappeared under the SUV like the belt of a giant treadmill.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we wouldn\u2019t be moving if I wasn\u2019t crazy, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe want to get you where you can be happiest. It\u2019s a fresh start for all of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m hungry,\u201d Greta said. \u201cWhen\u2019s lunch?\u201d<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Christkindli!\u201d Greta posed at their table in her Burger King crown for Jesse\u2019s phone picture. \u201cMerry almost-Christmas Eve.\u201d She plopped down in her seat and studied the back of her placemat, where Jesse had drawn a rough map of the Outer Banks. He\u2019d made an X where he thought Nag\u2019s Head must be. Greta picked up a black crayon. The hair fringing her crown was sweat plastered to her forehead.<\/p>\n

Jesse blew into his coffee, but the sip burned his lips. \u201cI think they turned the air conditioning off. They didn\u2019t expect to be this warm at Christmas,\u201d he said. \u201cThis is some kind of record.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do they know what\u2019s a record? What about all the millions of years before there were thermometers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess there\u2019s only a record about something when there\u2019s someone keeping track.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo there\u2019s nobody keeping records for things like most breaths in a lifetime. Or most heartbeats.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think so.\u201d<\/p>\n

Greta sniffed.\u00a0 \u201cI think I want to set the world record for most heartbeats. Can I tell the man sweeping up that we\u2019re going to burn Mommy on the beach?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean burn Mommy\u2019s books. No, I don\u2019t think telling a stranger about it is a good idea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s one of those \u2018family things,\u2019 right?\u201d Greta\u2019s blue eyes danced up from her drawing.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight,\u201d Jesse said. \u201cLike Christkindli. Like your Great-Grandpa.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNuzzi Great-Grandpa,\u201d Greta purred and went back to work on her drawing. Jesse squinted at the paper, expecting his little girl to add swastika spurs to his X. Instead, she spun a gyre of smoke from the spot. She dotted the coastline. \u201cPonies,\u201d she said. \u201cYou said there might be wild ponies on the beach. Like the ones they hung lamps from.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLamps\u2014lanterns\u2014how Nag\u2019s Head got its name\u2014from the land pirates and the ponies they led with lanterns on them so ships would think they were boat-lights and crash on the reefs. And the pirates could row out and plunder-dunder-doo them. Austin told me.\u201d Greta drew little humps along the shoreline\u2014ships or pirates?<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s just a legend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe it isn\u2019t.\u201d She bent over her picture\u2014inside the cardboard crown her hair was a nest of gold. \u201cAnd some of the houses there are built out of wood from the wrecked ships. Can we get one of those houses?\u201d Without waiting for an answer, Greta paused again and lifted her crayon and head. \u201cHow does Misty of Chincoteague<\/em> end? I don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ponies win.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, really\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll the ponies are safe and happy. You don\u2019t remember because you tore the end out of the book. You used to like to rip things up. You tore up most of Dr. Seuss. Some of those books were as old as your grandpa\u2014my father.\u201d Jesse worried that his tone was too accusatory. \u201cBut you were just little,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

Greta pressed her crayon against lips as plump as her mother\u2019s. \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she said. \u201cI still remember the feel of ripping the paper. It felt good in my fingers.\u201d She clenched and unclenched a fist. She switched the black crayon for an orange one and zigzagged it over the X, then stopped and pushed the paper away. \u201cI need red and yellow for a good fire,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s time to hit the road. We\u2019re going to get there after midnight as it is.\u201d Jesse collected the trash into his tray, and Greta tossed her crown on top of the pile. \u201cYou want this?\u201d he asked, tapping the map of the Outer Banks. Greta shook her head no, but when Jesse slid the paper toward the garbage pile, she shrieked \u201cYes!\u201d and snatched it up and pressed it to her chest.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

The SUV crept down the fog-bound roadway. Greta had been asleep for an hour, and Jesse was trying to picture his wife, but it was the shadow-eyed faces of pandas that emerged from the dark.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope he doesn\u2019t melt.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jesse flinched at the sound of his daughter\u2019s voice. \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

Greta yawned. \u201cFrosty the Snowman\u2014it\u2019s so warm. Is that why it\u2019s so foggy? Are we almost there?\u201d<\/p>\n

The half-lights of closed businesses bloomed around them. Jesse gripped the wheel. \u201cPretty close.\u201d Scrub oak and pine trees bent toward them out of the fog, as if prying into Jesse\u2019s thoughts. \u201cFrosty\u2019s fine,\u201d he said. \u201cHe and Christkindli kept me company while you were asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel the ocean,\u201d Greta said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s to our left\u2014the east. You can\u2019t see it now. Our place will be right on the beach.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s every<\/em>-where,\u201d his daughter said in her spookiest ghost voice.<\/p>\n

A half hour later, they pulled into a driveway behind Austin\u2019s old Taurus with the \u201cJohns Hopkins\u201d sticker on the rear window. \u201cI\u2019ll get our suitcases,\u201d Jesse said. \u201cCarry something in, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

Greta\u2019s fingers were glued to the door handle. \u201cHow late is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLate. Or early\u2014past one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s Christmas Eve! We need Christkindli!\u201d Greta jumped out onto the driveway and crunched over the gravel to the SUV\u2019s rear hatch. The fog had blown off, but the ocean was hidden by the beach house. A pale light glowed from the front window.<\/p>\n

\u201cAustin\u2019s supposed to leave the back door open. Keep your voice down in case he and Sarah are sleeping.\u201d<\/p>\n

The suitcases bumped along on their rollers behind Jesse. Greta carried Christikindli and the copies of Yodeling for Life<\/em>. A cottony breeze struck them as they rounded the corner of the house, and they saw the black ocean a few hundred yards away.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh\u2014\u201d Greta, hair flapping, stared across the strip of sand. A gust bent Christkindli around her waist. Jesse hoisted the suitcases up the steps.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d he said, \u201cwe\u2019ll come out later for a look.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sliding glass doors opened into a kitchen dining area. A swag lamp over a round table cast the light that illuminated the front window. Exposed beams ran along all the ceilings. Stainless steel appliances gleamed in the kitchen. Greta struggled through the doorway, propped Christkindli against the wall, and spilled her books onto the table.<\/p>\n

A Johns Hopkins sweatshirt hung on a clothes\u2019 tree over a black trash bag overflowing with wrapped and ribboned presents. Jesse recognized Austin\u2019s running shoes next to a pair of high-heeled leather boots.<\/p>\n

\u201cQuiet,\u201d Jesse said.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook\u2014\u201d On the table next to the copies of Yodeling for Life<\/em> stood a silver candelabra and a box of short candles. Beside them lay a Bic lighter and a pack of Marlboro Lights.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a Menorah, for Hanukkah,\u201d Jesse said, wondering if the smoker was Austin or his girlfriend.\u00a0 \u201cRemember, Sarah\u2019s Jewish. I think we\u2019re in the middle of the holiday. Tomorrow night we\u2019ll light the candles and she\u2019ll tell us what to do\u2014sing songs or say a prayer, I guess.\u201d\u00a0 When Jesse was little, all things Christmas had been reserved for December twenty-fifth. Then his parents divorced, and his stepfather Robert introduced the tradition of opening gifts on Christmas Eve. Then Briggie came along and kicked Santa Claus out of Christmas in favor of mysterious Christkindli. Now Hanukkah.\u00a0 Jesse felt like a Maypole\u2014holiday trappings tightened around his throat, and his head spun. He found himself counting his dead\u2014wife, mother, father, stepfather\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Greta hopped up and down. \u201cNo\u2014I don\u2019t mean the candle thing.\u00a0 The lighter<\/em>. Can we go to the beach? I want to burn Mommy\u2019s book. It\u2019s Christmas Eve. We can burn Austin\u2019s copy later, after the sun comes up, and yours. And Sarah\u2019s, if she wants. But I want to do mine now.\u201d Greta picked up a copy of Yodeling for Life<\/em>. Sticking out of it was the crayon map of the Outer Banks she and Jesse had worked on at Burger King. Briggie smiled from the back cover, and Jesse closed his eyes, but couldn\u2019t stop the image of his wife\u2019s face eaten away by a ring of fire.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go to the beach\u2014please?\u201d Greta begged.<\/p>\n

Jesse snatched the Bic lighter and flicked it on. Its flame winked in the glass of the deck door.<\/p>\n

*<\/p>\n

Greta removed her shoes and socks and stood on the packed sand with her back to the wind and ocean. She held Yodeling for Life<\/em> in both hands like a serving dish. The Statue of Liberty was pinned under her arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll keep Christkindli,\u201d Jesse said, taking the inflatable and sliding it between his knees. \u201cHold the book at arm\u2019s length\u2014by the cover\u2014\u201d The placemat map of the Outer Banks blew out and skipped down the beach. Greta stared after it.<\/p>\n

\u201cForget it,\u201d Jesse said. He thumbed the lighter on and off, and he and his daughter watched the twitching flame. \u201cYou remember why you wanted to do this, right?<\/p>\n

\u201cAshes.\u201d Greta\u2019s teeth chattered, though Jesse was sweating. Her toes clutched at the sand.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight. This was your<\/em> idea. Mommy\u2019s ashes are for the ocean because she told you she loved Nag\u2019s Head.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd her great-grandpa was here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight. So when I light the book, the pages will blaze up, and you\u2019ve got to move fast\u2014backwards, because if you turn into the wind the fire might burn you. Keep facing me. Back up one step at a time, as if you\u2019re holding a sparkler for the Fourth of July. You\u2019ll feel wet sand when you get close to the ocean\u2014it\u2019ll probably be cold\u2014 and when you do, spin and fling the book into the ocean, like it\u2019s a Frisbee.\u201d Jesse\u2019s heart pumped. Would a responsible father let his child play with fire? \u201cBut if the book gets too hot, drop it right away. Let it burn in the sand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook me in the eye. What do you do the second you feel the wet sand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThrow the book.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Now spread the covers wide.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Greta opened the book, the pages fluttered in the wind. There were pictures, but it was too dark to see Briggie in them. The ocean rumbled and sighed. Jesse ignited the Bic and touched a page, which darkened, then caught fire.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo!\u201d Jesse shouted, and Greta stared at him over the small flame, then stepped back toward the ocean, steadily, her elbows high. Her thin body protected the burning book from the wind. A second page caught, and a third, and Greta held a globe of fire. Jesse pocketed the lighter, wishing he\u2019d taken the cigarettes along, though he hadn\u2019t smoked since college. The wind pushed at the inflatable between his thighs, and he pulled it out and tucked it under his arm. He watched Greta shrink back toward the ocean, a glowing bouquet at her waist.<\/p>\n

\u201cCareful\u2014move faster\u2014\u201d Jesse called. How close was she to the water?\u00a0 If there were any Nazi U-boats or ships ripe for land-pirate plunder out at sea, she\u2019d seem to them only a tiny eclipse of a girl. He bit his lip, expecting any moment to see a flaming arc when she tossed the book.\u00a0 Had it been a minute? Half that? Illuminated foam sparkled behind Greta, and Jesse gasped. Something lay between his daughter and the ocean. A few more steps and Greta would stumble over it. He shuddered to think what it might be\u2014a bloated carcass, probably, certain to haunt her dreams. He waved the inflatable over his head and shouted.<\/p>\n

\u201cGreta! Throw the book\u2014come back! Throw it now!\u201d<\/p>\n

The bouquet of fire hung\u2014Greta had stopped. He couldn\u2019t tell if she\u2019d looked behind her.<\/p>\n

\u201cJesse?\u201d<\/p>\n

The voice touched him like a cold hand, and Jesse turned to see Austin, in T-shirt and shorts, standing on the deck. He blinked back and forth from his little brother to Greta and her fire. \u201cAustin. Did we wake you?\u201d<\/p>\n

Austin gazed past Jesse. \u201cToo warm to sleep,\u201d he muttered. \u201cIs that Greta out there? What the hell is she doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTurning her mother into ashes,\u201d Jesse said. Did Austin see the thing in the foam?\u00a0 \u201cGreta!\u201d Jesse shouted. He tossed the inflatable toy in the air. The breeze grabbed it and carried it down the beach. \u201cChristkindli\u2014run\u2014get her!\u201d<\/p>\n

The fire fell. Jesse lost sight of Greta. When he spotted her, she was a pale shadow racing across the sand after the wind-blown inflatable.<\/p>\n

\u201cDamn, Jesse\u2014\u201dAustin jumped from the deck steps and ran after his niece. He caught her, and together they chased Christkindli down the beach. Back where Greta had dropped the book, Jesse saw nothing. What had he seen? A beached dolphin or seal? Something worse? He heard voices and turned back to see Austin and Greta returning to the beach house. Greta lugged Christkindli. Maybe she was explaining about the fire. Jesse looked again toward the shore but saw only waves cresting and collapsing.<\/p>\n

Had Briggie\u2019s ashes reached the sea? Were they still out there with the figure he\u2019d seen lying in the foam? Would they be there in the morning, or would the tide sweep both away? Jesse turned away from the shore. Above him a young woman\u2014Sarah, of course\u2014stood waving.\u00a0 Silhouetted in the deck doorway, she had long hair that fell past her shoulders. Her lifted arm tugged her football jersey to the middle of her thighs. Did she see Jesse? He made a fist around the Bic lighter in his pocket. He remembered rock concerts where the kids had held their lighters like torches to keep the show from ending. Like Statues of Liberty. Full of something, maybe hope, maybe just air, like the inflatable Christkindli his daughter dragged up the beach. Jesse could salute his little brother\u2019s girl with the cigarette lighter. \u201cWelcome to the family,\u201d he could say. Would it be too much?<\/p>\n

Gregory Wolos<\/a><\/h6>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Jesse\u2019s daughter Greta was invited by a classmate to see Panda-Yodel-O-Dee-Oh, the animated musical film based on her mom\u2019s autobiographical children\u2019s book, Yodeling for Life: the Panda Miracles. They never made it to the Cineplex. A fight broke out in the car after the classmate said that Greta\u2019s mother\u2019s eyes looked big on the poster, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[7],"tags":[20],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6Jypy-2ku","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8958"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=8958"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8958\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10145,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8958\/revisions\/10145"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=8958"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=8958"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wp0.vanderbilt.edu\/nashvillereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=8958"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}