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Characters from Waiting with Elmer
Everywhere I speak or sell books, it seems the one question I can always anticipate is, “Where do you get your characters for your books?”
When the book is nonfiction, that’s easy to answer, they are who they are. But in fiction, the characters invent themselves. But, I do believe many are latent memories. Sometime in my life, I’ve known someone who did something like my character does. No one is 100% good, and no one is 100% bad. We can change slowly or we can make a radical change. Mostly, real people are made up of this good character mix, yet change with their experiences.
I particularly love the characters in this book, they are truly a trail mix – raisins, pretzels, candy, and nuts. They are colorful, funny, honest, and unique. They populate Waitnsee for the purpose of making heaven on earth for all who share their community. That’s a big responsibility; but it’s one we are all charged with. The Union Mission has taken that charge seriously for 125 years. I’m happy to honor them with this book.
One of the lesser characters in my book is Zipper. By lesser, I mean he doesn’t really move the plot, he mostly gives sparkle to the Union Mission. I didn’t realize it at first, but as Zipper grew in the story and I was more aware of him, I realized I knew him. His name was Skip. I never knew his real name, but he was called Skip, and that’s pretty much what he did, he skipped. He skipped back and forth between the grocery aisles of the little food store where my family shopped, hurrying between customers, always being helpful. I remember when the food store first installed the mat that automatically opened the door. He was so proud of it he demonstrated it for everyone so they would know how to work it. His speech skipped, he didn’t talk in sentences or with punctuation. His pants were often unzipped and his shoe laces tripped him up; his belt missed the loops. He made little noises when he wasn’t talking. He always asked about everyone in unpunctuated monotone. “How. is. Mister. Kipter. to-day. Missus. Kipter?” “How. is. your. big. doggie. to-day. Missus. Kipter?” He loaded our wagon with our groceries so carefully, talking all the while, “oatmealred dogfoodshiny jellogreen breadontop cerealwith prize.” We all liked him, probably because he always smiled and seemed glad to see us. He hugged us.
One time when my brother and I were playing at home we were pretending to be Skip. My mother jumped all over that. “He can’t help it,” she said, “and you aren’t to make fun of him, so stop it right now. He can’t help how he is.” Danny and I were puzzled; we hadn’t yet figured out there was anything “wrong” with Skip. He was just who he was. We weren’t making fun of him, we hadn’t progressed that far. But after that, I saw Skip differently. Now I was looking for his wrongness; now I knew he wasn’t just Skip, he was different, somehow not quite “right,” something he couldn’t help.
Years later when I visited in town with children of my own, I learned Skip had died. In the little shack on a side street where he lived, not far from our home, authorities found stacks of money in shoeboxes. They also found receipts and ledgers attesting to the fact that over the years Skip had paid hospital bills for many people, bought groceries for others, and put money in various church offerings. He bought lots of shoes in various sizes for men, women, and children. And no one knew. Mom smiled and said, “I think he was the smartest among us after all.”
Zipper pays tribute to Skip. One of the life-lessons in the book – everyone is more than what they don’t have, and everyone is more than what they do have; everyone is more than they seem – is a tribute to all those who’ve passed through our lives with little notice, in their simple and good way, often forgotten.