Maxine

The Hubbards lived directly across the street from us in a house with a brick porch. I’m not sure what the house looked like from the inside because I was never inside. There were several homes in the neighborhood where it was very clear that it was okay to come over and play as long as we stayed outside. The neighbors probably saw us as peculiar. The fact that we were relative newcomers was probably the first concern. The fact that we were a large, rowdy Catholic family, didn’t help matters. For these families, it was a major concession to let their kids play in our yard. The kids had strict instructions to play outside. I think the fear was that, if they came inside our house, we might sprinkle them with Holy Water and turn them into Catholics. Who knew what strange rituals went on in the Witmer household? On summer evenings, when the windows were open, the Witmer’s could be heard reciting what sounded like a Gregorian chant, “blezus olord antheze thigh gifs”* It must have seemed as strange to them as the Nazarene worship service was to us. At any rate, Maxine Hubbard was forbidden to enter the Witmer house.

Anna and Teresa were six or seven years old and often played with Maxine, but it was always outside. That’s why it seem so strange when, one day, Maxine presented herself, at the door, and explained that her mother said it was okay for her to go up to Anna and Teresa’s room and play with Barbie Dolls. It would only be for half and hour, she explained, and so my Mom sent her up to play. It all got stranger when Mrs. Hubbard came to the door looking for Maxine and stranger still when Maxine was no where to be found.

In all the years we lived in Brooklyn, Indiana, I don’t think I ever heard Mrs. Hubbard speak, other than to call the kids for supper. But that day we all wandered through the house, upstairs and down, inside and out, calling out “Maxine!” Did I mention that Maxine’s dad was the town Marshal? It was only his part-time job, but never the less, he was THE Marshal and his 1963 Ford Fairlane patrol car sat across the street in front of the Hubbard household. The Witmers had somehow got themselves involved in the disappearance of the Marshal’s daughter.

More neighbors joined the search, combing the neighborhood, checking and rechecking all the places she might be. The panic level began to rise. But we had all failed to consider one thing: Perhaps little Maxine did not want to be found. Teresa, young as she was, sensed this was the case and went back to her room. This time, instead of calling out for Maxine, Teresa said, in a low voice, “Hey Maxine, you want some candy?” A tiny little voice came back from underneath the bunk beds, “Yes.” Maxine had been simply unwilling to leave Barbie-Doll heaven.

The word went out, “We found her! We found her!” The adults raced upstairs. Now the problem was that Maxine didn’t want to come out. She knew that in the end, she would get a good old Indiana-style lickin, the prescription for all childhood foolishness, and she was in no hurry to settle up with her Mom. Eventually Maxine’s Mom coaxed her out with soft words, promising her that she was not in trouble, that she would not be punished, but we all new better. But in the end we were so relieved, that none of us would be facing kidnapping charges that we didn’t think about Maxine’s appointment with the parental justice system.

*Bless oh Lord and These, Thy Gifts…