The child looking up at me, had nothing left.
For the next few nights, an RV was going to be his home. I was giving him a tour of the box on wheels.
I stood in the middle of the db/bb/rv and pointed, "Dude, here's your living room," and saw him smile as I pointed to the one bolted down reclining chair.
"This here is your kitchen," as I moved my pointing finger about a foot right of the "living room" and showed him a microwave a few cupboards and a plastic sink.
"Over here now," and we both spun around where we stood, "is the dining room," he was starting to giggle, "and that, that's your own private bedroom." The child stood up on his tippy toes to see into the bunk over the Class C motor home cab.
"Back here," we moved two steps, "is your mom and dad's master suite. Make yourself at home dude, knock yourself out."
I did this tour so that he would feel at home because the home he was born in was now mostly strewn here and there throughout Cullman, Alabama.
I had never met this kid before in my life, I knew this though, on Tuesday he was a child. By Wednesday, he was an adult. The tornado took his house, took his stuff, took his toys, his fishing stuff, his allowance jar, his favorite college Tee shirts, and the candy he had hid under his bed.
Took it all.
When the violence comes out of the sky it cares not who's underneath. It sweeps clean lives. It sweeps clean dreams.
But then I saw this child eyeing particularly close, my McFarlane Elvis #1 Comeback Special figurine.
"Dude, you've got to take real good care of my Elvis, you know, I can't like write without that up there next to the laptop."
"No problem Mr. db. I love Elvis."
"Huh, skinny or fat?"
"Skinny."
And we knuckle bumped, an old man from up north, and a young kid from down south.
When the child smiled, I knew that for that one tiny moment in time, he was just a kid again; the tornado was gone for the moment. Childhood still had a glimmer of hope.
If he could still smile, we could bring it back.
Elvis, me - and you.
"…shine a light in the morning and a light at night…"
We have a date, we have a place, and we have how you can help.
With your help we can pick up the broken fishing poles, and put new ones in the hands of children who lost everything to the tornado.
Who became adults way before their time.
Who cry, instead of smile.
On July 2nd, from 8am until noon, at Sportsman Lake in Cullman, Alabama every child in the area who lost everything to the storm will be invited to come fish. To forget. To smile once again.
And if they have nothing to fish with, we can fix that.
People already are stepping up. Cullman County's Sportsman Lake is going to wave all the fees for anyone associated with the event. There will be no cost for the children and their families to get in to the place and fish.
Pepsi has already promised to bring a bunch of stuff there for the kids. Other local businesses are donating time and supplies, volunteers have signed up to help run the event.
We just need to get the children fishing stuff.
Rods, reels, tackle, line.
Money to help buy worms and crickets.
We have a little over a month to pull this off and bring the children a moment of smiles, a moment of giggles, a moment of childhood.
Help me do this.
Please.
"…and if a thing goes wrong you'd better make it right."
Deliver Your Children
Paul McCartney
db
And if a thing goes wrong you'd better make it right
