NORMAN ROCKWELL

Rewritten after teacher’s comments
Dr. James H. Turnock
November 27, 1961

SMALL PROBLEMS CAN MAKE BIG PROBLEMS SMALL

 

            With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Joe Williams was wiping the already clean counter in preparation for the hoped-for evening rush when he noticed the patrol car pull up in front of his diner.  A burly, friendly-looking state trooper and a small boy about ten years old got out of the car and entered the restaurant.

            “Afternoon, Joe,” said Trooper McNally as he sat down at the counter, “How’re things?”

            “Not so hot, Bill, “ replied the proprietor.  “Business hasn’t been so good since they opened up that new by-pass.  Martha and I’ve been thinkin’ about sellin’ out and movin’ to Florida.  We haven’t been very happy since our boy got killed in Korea, and it seems to me that things and people have changed a lot around here.  Who’s your little friend?”

            “Meet Johnie Anderson, Mr. Williams,” said the trooper.  He smiled as the boy held out his hand.  “He’s left home and stopped in the station lookin’ for a job.  Wants to be a cop.  We decided to have a coke while we talk it over.  Make mine coffee.  Black.”

            As Joe went down to the end of the counter to get the drinks, McNally turned to Johnie.  “As I was sayin’, Johnie, I’ve got to take you home.  You’re too young to work.  Besides, you don’t have enough schoolin’ to be a policeman, especially the F.B.I.  Why, to get in that outfit a guy has to be a lawyer and that takes a long time.  Isn’t that right, Joe?”

            “Sure is, “ answered Joe.  He placed the cup, bottle, and straws on the counter and then leaned on it listening to the conversation with a smile on his thin, angular face.

            “I know what a lawyer is, “ Johnie said thoughtfully, “That’s like Perry Mason.  That’d be fun too.  I guess you’re right, Mr. McNally, but I’m afraid to go home.  Mom thinks I’m still up in my room.  When Dad gets home at six-fifteen, I’ll really catch it.”

            The officer glanced at his watch and thought for a moment.  “Thirty minutes should give us plenty of time.  I’ll drop you off a couple blocks from your house and you go right up to your room.  If you get caught, have your Dad call me at this number.”  He scribbled on the back of a ticket ripped from his book and handed the scrap of paper to the boy.  “When you get through school, I’ll see that you get to be a state trooper, if you still want to be one.”

            The small boy looked up at the huge policeman with admiration.  “Thanks a lot, Mr.McNally, I’ll do just what you said.”  He paused and said shyly, “I don’t want to be an old lawyer.  I want to be a policeman more than ever.  One just like you.”

            “Thanks a lot, Bill.  And Johnie, good luck to you,” called Joe as they left the diner.  He rang up the twenty cents on the register, put the empty coke bottle under the sink, and rinsed out the coffee cup.  As the car drove away, a middle-aged woman came through the door from the kitchen.

            “That little fellow reminded me of Joe, Jr. about fifteen years ago,” she said, as she slipped on a clean apron, “I sure hope he gets to his room without his folks catchin’ him.”

            “He’ll be O.K.,” said her husband softly.  “I’ve seen Bill McNally operate before.  After he drops the little fellow off, he’ll have plenty of time to make a phone call.”  He lit another cigarette and again began to wipe off the counter.  “You know, Martha, let’s not be in too much of a hurry on the Florida idea.  I think I’d like to stay here a while longer.