the neighborhood

He walked the railroad tracks until reaching the dirt road running along the western edge of the golf course.  While walking the road, he passed the open dump that anyone was free to visit, dump their refuse or  pick through the junk left by others.  He paused and scanned it methodically to see if there was anything he might want to scavenge.  Spying nothing, he turned and continued his walk home, paralleling the railroad tracks until the county road intersected them.  He then switched to the railroad tracks, finally reaching the Hula’s rambler two hundred yards further down and below the tracks.  

Jack, Kellan, Sydney and the Klipper kids were playing kick the can in the acre and a half yard filled with oak trees.  Screaming voices and laughter filtered up to where he stood, bringing a smile to Gabe’s face.  The others didn’t notice him as he sneaked his way down the embankment through the thick brush.  He timed his burst from the weeds, almost reaching top speed as he hit the yard and kicked the can towards the square-shaped concrete covering of the well.  The can hit the concrete, careening off and flying a couple of feet into the air and onto the other side of it. It continued to roll on the ground toward the Klipper’s house, losing its impetus until it came to a halt under John Klipper’s lawn chair.  

John Klipper was the no nonsense father of the three boys and four girls who made up the rest of the Klipper family.  He was raising the children alone after the death of their mother three years earlier.  

Mr. Klipper was smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper as he sat comfortably in his chair on the concrete patio.  When the can had finally come to a clattering stop under his chair, he put down his paper on the small table next to him and took another drag from his Marlboro.  The cigarette dangled from his mouth as he leaned over and picked up the can to examine it.  The children were all deathly silent as they stood and watched him turn his head one way and then the other while he stared at the can.  For God’s sakes, it was just a can they collectively thought.  What could he possibly be looking at and trying to figure out.  

After what seemed like an eternity, he ever so slowly placed the can on it’s side on the ground, stood up like a stretching lion and faced the kids.  Everyone of the kids stood horrified as they wondered what he was going to say or do to all of them.

John Klipper stood for another moment staring at them until a smile broke out across his face and he drew his left foot back and exploded it forward into the can, sending it over all of their heads back towards the railroad tracks.  

Totally shocked, the children didn’t move a muscle until Mr. Klipper, with the cigarette still dangling from the corner of his lips, said, “Well, what are you waiting for?  Go for it!”  He then sat back down, picked up his newspaper and resumed reading.  Shouts and screams erupted into the air as everyone rushed to the can.