Published in the Westchester Guardian, June 2012
One of the wonderful things about family life are stories passed down from generations. They may start out as an unexpected mishap turning into comic farce or historical antidote, reminding us of where we came & where we’re headed. Life can create experiences and lessons to remember and treasure. These interventions may strengthen the family bond; create memories to be laughed at and to be grateful for. This unexpected Divine Providence could resurrect the hidden self and develop character. About seven years ago, Divine Providence visited our family, blessing us with the following gift.
Stirred from a sound sleep, at two in the morning, by one of our felines’ strange whinings, my wife saw nothing unusual in the bathroom where “BeBe” mysteriously cried, staring upward. Back to a sleep she went and the first of the fortunes of Divine Providence occurred – because my wife decided not to look at the ceiling.
With the usual groggy morning routine, my spouse walks by the staring cats and heads for a new day. Next, my son walks by -”What’s this black thing on the curtain, Mom, Dad?” Grudgingly, and the bemoaning the loss of five more minutes of sleep, father, slowly comes out from under the comfortable sheets. Amazing, how a simple thing like the change in ones tone can alter the smooth movements of the awakening body and get the adrenalin flowing. “Glenn?!” was enough, a complete sentence was definitely unnecessary.
With images of horrid creatures beginning to stir in my now stimulated synapses, I joined the trio of cat, wife & son staring at this ‘thing’ on our curtain. It was big, black and a little hairy. Relief, amazement and a National Geographic program from long age flooded my thoughts as I sleepily concluded that it was neither a spider, rodent nor roach, thank God, but having never seen one up close, my mind concluded that this black slightly hairy thing was ‘just” a bat. A bat? With a how, where and why crossing my mind, it was just not the time to find out how, where and why or to panic. It was time for action, to rise up above circumstances presented, to fight for family welfare, to fight for family honor, to fight in keeping our home safe, and to put on a pair of pants. Grabbing an empty coffee can out of the linen closet, I lunged and promptly missed the now flying mammal. And so began the epic confrontation, to be remembered for generations, to become part of family lore, of the battle of father versus bat.…
We were in battle ready mode. The players were in position, somewhat. Angela was at the opened back door, my cats nowhere in sight & my son without fear, laughing at our predicament and I had pants on. We had home field advantage and proven weaponry – a five-foot plastic broom. The opponents squared off. In one corner, a highly engineered, nature tested, radar equipped, millennium old, extremely maneuverable, fast flying mammal with a six inch wing span. In the other corner – an unemployed accountant.
It was difficult to decide which of the two were the more nervous or brighter. Trying not to act like Laurel & Hardy, or Moe, Larry and Curly, with a swinging broom & light fixtures abound, I got on the offensive. Refusing to leave our domicile, another sign of Providence, my opponent confined itself to the first floor – I got a break in not having to run up and down the stairs with unbuckled pants, however, it smartly refused to be cornered or land on an accessible wall. Also, my “guest” was able to out-maneuver my broom. I had to hit it somehow in mid-flight and here came valuable lessons and tactics learned from staying up late watching the Military History Channel – with a moving target, aim not where the target is but where it is going. Now, the more I swung, the closer I got to hitting it. Sidebar, just in case you come across a bat: they do not fly in a straight line. They move in mid air with the flexibility of a cat chasing a toy filled with catnip. Wondering on how long this battle would wage, I finally, got in a lucky shot, winging it. Momentarily stunned, it was captured and swept it into an empty container. It squeaked. I threw out the broom. Divine Providence – I could have discarded the bat immediately, but logic intoned that it should be held until we learned more. As bats go, it was kind of cute and innocent looking. I should have taken a picture.
Divine Providence struck again. We learned that a small percentage of bats have rabies, so if it escaped – shots for humans and cats alike. Also, if severely damaged, our “guest” could not be tested. The creature was alive, feisty and squeaking in a covered can with two rocks on the lid and a chair over that with a rock on the chair – in the backyard. A local trapper initially recommended placing it in the freezer – a possibility only if I wanted to buy a new freezer and throw out my ice cream. Our bat tested negative for disease.
Sometimes God sends you little gifts that go unnoticed, disguised as annoyances, until that time when you could “see” more clearly. For me, this Godsend led into something greater, relieving the stress of unemployment and mental illness.
#911
Glenn Slaby Blog