Image by Willfried Wende from Pixabay
“I mean, we could try to trick him, but then again, we could also choose to live.”
“Yeah, I got the same situation over here – it ain't even worth it, man.”
Nine-year-old George Ludlow and nine-year-old Milton Trent, best friends, were confronting how to deal with hated bedtime, and also, while being lovingly observed by both Col. H.F. Lee at the Ludlow house and Thomas Stepforth Sr. at the Trent house, were learning about making good decisions in life.
“You know, I was eavesdropping on this big conversation that my cousin Tom was having with my big siblings Melvin and Vanna,” Milton said, “and I realize: life is about figuring out what your choices cost.”
“Yep,” George said. “I was listening to my slightly bigger siblings Andrew and Eleanor talk about all our parents with Cousin Harry [F. Lee], and I realized: our parents' decisions cost them and us a lot, and they didn't count it out first.”
“Yeah, what y'all have gone through is rough,” Milton said. “You know I'm here for you, man, anytime you need to talk about it.”
“I really don't even know what to say most of the time, because – well, it's like your Stepforth grandfather is a whole billionaire, but we would be here until his age, trying to count that high. When people do stuff that is like billionaire costs, how do you even count that out, man?”
“You know, I never thought about like that, but, yeah,” Milton said. “We would be out here counting a long time, and we gotta eat at some point and talking with our mouths full doesn't work in either of our homes.”
“Oh no,” George said. “We were at this restaurant once and the person next to us started to choke. Papa jumped over the booth and grabbed him up and started doing the Heimlich manuever, and I'm telling you, Milton, no matter how good the food looks like when it goes down, there is nothing good about it when it comes back like that and gets all over your wife's face.”
“I guess not!” Milton said. “But it's like what we were talking about – you gotta figure out what it costs on everything you are doing.”
“Yeah, because arguing with your wife about some drama TV show is just not worth all the embarrassment and hospital bills and all that – I mean, Papa saved his life, but you already know that the guy's middle section was all messed up.”
“Of course – your grandfather is a big old man, and if he gotta put the squeeze on, yeah, that's gonna hurt. But see, George, if people really knew that Robert Edward 'Hell to Pay' Ludlow was going to have to save their lives, they would definitely count better, because look: you need to be saved from going to wherever you are going by somebody who has hell in his Army nickname?”
“Those billion-dollar type of costs again, Milton.”
The two boys fell silent, and then George sighed.
“I guess we're going to bed in about five minutes,” he said.
“Yep, because even if we make a break for the Blue Ridge in the moonlight, even if we make it, your grandfather and Cousin Harry hunting us down in the morning is just not it,” Milton said. “That's a problem that is worth the triple billion Pop-Pop actually has, and we'll be out here counting to age 200 each, grounded, on all that.”
“Well,” George said, “I remember we heard Sunday that Jesus said to count the costs … if you're a king with 10,000 men, you need to figure out how to deal with the king who is attacking you with 20,000 men before the attack happens.”
“Yeah, because they didn't have smart bombs or smartphones back then, so, you just had to stop it before it started,” Milton said, “although I hear that during the Civil War, there was this one general that had 70,000 men and couldn't beat a guy with 40,000 men.”
“There were a couple of generals – one of them had 115,000 men to that other general's 50,000 men, and still got beat,” George said, “but that really doesn't help us at all, because the general who had fewer men both times was Robert E. Lee, and that's Cousin Harry's ancestral uncle and lookalike.”
“Oh, that's right,” Milton said.
“And ain't nobody around here named Grant, so, I'll see you in the morning, Milton.”
“Yep, George, have a good night.”
After the two boys were well and truly tucked in, Col. Lee and Mr. Stepforth met in the light of the moon and had a good laugh before bed.
