The Short Stories and Poetry of Deena Rustmeyer
Poetry by Deena Rustemeyer, titled,
"I Make A Differece".
I lie and I wonder, as you probably do, is it worth
getting up everyday? The drugs and the violence,
the child abuse, so many sheep gone astray.
Guns in the pockets of so many teens, their anger raging inside.
Adults way to busy, their patience long gone, no wonder
young children have died. I get out of bed as I hope
for the best and I try to remember the good. Like the
look of a child as I teach him to read when he said
there was no way he could. Or the hugs that I get
every morning at nine as the children come through my door.
The fact that they know I'm someone who cares
and will give them the courage to soar.
I show them that love and respect are the tools
they must use to make it through life.
I teach them the knowledge and feed their desire
to overcome violence and strife.
As the day turns to night and I'm falling sleep,
a glimmer of hope fills my heart.
Little by little, the world will improve if I continue
to do my small part.
The Darkness The stillness of the darkness
is a comfort to my soul.
When the world engulfs my thoughts
and I feel I've lost control.
I listen to the crickets
and the sadness of their song.
As they comfort one another
in a world where right seems wrong.
I hear the distant traffic
of those still not asleep.
With unknown destinations,
zealous schedules to keep.
I hear the darkness lifting
and the sunlight sneaking in.
As my soul drifts off to sleep
'til the darkness comes again.
Deena Rustemeyer. Is a 42 year old elementary teacher at St. Petersburg, Florida. She is married, has two children and has been writing for as long as she can remember. Deena says, "I hope to someday write and publish children's picture books. This is a short story I wrote based on my son who has Tourrette Syndrome. It is entitled:
Weird Mr. Turner
"Remember, " whispered Roger. "we have to stay quiet and hidden behind this fence so Weird Man Turner doesn't see us, or else our plan won't work."
"I'm still not sure about this, " Lenny whispered back to Roger. "maybe we should just leave him alone."
"No way!" said Roger, as he picked up one of the rotten tomatoes that was lying next to him in the vegetable garden. "Old Man Turner is weird! No normal person would walk down the street making loud noises, jerking his head and talking to himself. If he's going to act like that, he deserves what he gets. Besides, it's not like we're hurting anyone, it's just Weird Man Turner."
Lenny remembered the day Mr. Turner moved into the neighborhood. It was right after school had let our for the summer. No one knew much about him. All the kids thought he was crazy. Lenny's parents told him Mr. Turner moved to Maytown because his wife passed away and he needed a smaller house. Roger said he moved to Maytown because all the other town kicked him out for being weird and crazy!
"Get ready," said Roger excitedly. "He's coming," Lenny, seeing Roger pick up a tomato in each hand, did too. Lenny stood up slowly, and at Roger's cue, waited for Mr. Turner to come into range. They peered over the fence and could see Mr. Turner walking up the other side of the street. As always, he made loud noises and jerked his head.
"Steady, steady, said Roger, almost there." Lenny felt a sick feeling growing in his stomach. "NOW!" shouted Roger. As one, they jumped out from behind the fence, and with all their might, launched the tomatoes across the street at Mr. Turner. "Take that, you weirdo." Roger shouted, as his tomato hit Mr. Turner's shoulder. Lenny could see tomato dripping down Mr. Turner's sleeve, leaving a red stain, then drop to the ground. He felt a lump in his throat. His tomato hit Mr. Turner's shoe.
"This will teach you to make weird noises and jerk all over the neighborhood," yelled Roger as his second tomato flew over Mr. Turner's head and landed in the bush behind him.
Just then, Lenny cringed as he heard a booming voice behind them that said, "That's enough!" Lenny recognized that voice. It was his father's. "Go home, Roger. Your father can expect a call from me later." Roger turned and Lenny could see a smirk on his face.
"Go ahead and call my dad," Roger said, as he headed down the street. "My ole man won't do nothin'. He thinks Old Man Turner is crazy , too."
"I want to apologize for my son, Mr. Turner." "He will be punished and this will never happen again. Will it son!" Lenny shook his head. With a nod of agreement, Mr. Turner continued down the street. At home, Lenny's dad looked him square in the eye and said, "You have a lot of explaining to do."
Lenny told his dad what Roger had said about Mr. Turner. "Roger said that Mr. Turner is weird because he makes funny noises and jerks his head. He said that we weren't really hurting anybody. Anyone who goes around doing weird things like Mr. Turner deserves what he gets." Dad's look at him seemed to last an eternity and Lenny saw the disappointment in his dad's eyes.
"Do you agree with Roger?" his dad asked. Lenny thought for a moment. He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach when his tomato landed on Mr. Turner's shoe.
"No."
"Well, what do you think you should do about it?" Lenny knew what he had to do. He left his house and began a slow walk down Elm Street towards Mr. Turner's house. He turned, opened up the gate, climbed the wooden steps onto the front porch and rang the doorbell. As he waited for Mr. Turner to answer the door, Lenny noticed the faded paint on the door and porch. He thought how drab and dreary it looked. When the door opened, Lenny stood face to face with Mr. Turner. "I'm sorry about the tomatoes, Mr. Turner. What Roger and I did to you was wrong. It was mean, and I want to make it up to you."
Lenny waited for Mr. Turner to say something, and he did. But it wasn't what Lenny expected. A loud, weird, noise came out of Mr. Turner's mouth and his head started jerking! Too frightened to move, Lenny stood glued to the front porch. His heart felt like a freight train running through his chest. His mind was saying. 'Run Lenny, Run,' but his body wasn't moving. "What was your name again?" Lenny tried to answer, but his mouth was so dry nothing came out.
"Well?"
"Len-Len-Lenny, sir." "Well, Lenny, come in and let's figure out what we need to do. Lenny wasn't quite sure if he wanted to go in or not.
"Come on into the kitchen. I just made some fresh lemonade." Cautiously, Lenny followed Mr. Turner through the house and into the kitchen. "How old are you Lenny?"
"Ten."
"Sit down and make yourself comfortable." Another loud noise came out of Mr. Turner's mouth and his head jerked. Mr. Turner acted as though nothing happened. Lenny's curiosity finally got the best of him.
"Why do you do that--that--that--you know, that stuff?"
"Make loud noises and jerk my head and act like I'm crazy?" Lenny nooded as Mr. Turner poured his lemonade. "I have a disease called Tourrette Syndrome.
"A disease! Can I catch it?"
Mr. Turner smiled. "No, you can't catch it. You have to be born with it. It causes my brain to tell my body to make noises and different kinds of movements called 'tics'."
"What's a tic?"
"A tic can be anything from my eye twitching, to grunting, to making loud weird noises. Medication controls most of them, but when I get nervous or upset, the tics can get worse."
"Will the disease ever go away?"
"No, but it's okay, Lenny. I've learned to deal with it. Most of the time I don't even know I'm doing it. MY biggest problem is getting other people to deal with it."
"Like me and Roger," Lenny said softly, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.
"Yes, like you and Roger. Would you like some cookies to go with your lemonade?"
"Sure," said Lenny. "Hey Mr. Turner. I just got a great idea! I'm pretty good with a paintbrush. I could help you paint your front door and your front porch. We could have this house looking new in no time!"
Mr. Turner smiled. "That would be a big help. With my job at the supermarket, I haven't had much time to get things fixed up around here." "Maybe I could even help you after school starts?"
"I would really like that. I've been pretty lonely since my wife died. Here, have another cookie and then we'll go down to the hardware store and get the things we need. We can start first thing tomorrow morning, if that's okay with you?" Lenny grinned and bit into another cookie. He looked across the table at his new friend, not "Weird Mr. Turner, just plain Mr. Turner.
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