Kith & Kin

In June of 1996 Mom, who was almost sixty years old, crawled into her dying father’s bed so she could be as close to him as possible and talk to him and hear him talk to her. Grandpa was dying of sarcoidosis, and he had reached that final stage of life where one sleeps more and more and where times of lucid conversation happen less and less. “Daddy,” she whispered, “I just need to know. Are you trusting the Lord?” He didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded and said, “I talk to Him all the time!” Amy Brinkerhoff and Grandpa Swartz, Dec. 1991. When I picture my maternal grandfather, Byron Joseph Swartz, in my mind, he is sitting in “his chair” in his and Grandma’s living room, one leg crossed over the other at the knee, bouncing his foot up and down. He is wearing unshined black leather shoes and white socks. His shirt and pants match exactly—both are what I would call a “military green.” He is holding his eyeglasses by one of the temples, twirling them back and forth. He is listening

Photo of the actual Snake in the actual trash can moments before his untimely demise. A (mostly) nonfiction work written in script format by Steve Skaggs DISCLAIMER: This really happened, and, yes, we really did kill the snake. I know there was truly no reason to do so. We could have done something far more kind, such as releasing it into a nearby field or putting it into a neighbor’s mailbox. (Yes, “neighbor,” you know who you are!) But we were panicked. We were not thinking clearly. And, besides, if that snake didn’t want to end up dead, he should have stayed outside where he belonged! CAST (in order of appearance)      Cindy : The mother. She don’t do snakes.      Dad : Heroic leader of the family. Unflappable.      Jason : Sharp-eyed teenage son of Cindy and Dad. Laconic.      Black Snake : Out of his element and doomed from the start.      Caleb : Teenage son armed with shovel. Stoical. OPENING SCENE A sunny Thursday afternoon. Cindy is resting on the bed after work. Dad i