plums in our heads wasn’t enough. We wanted those plums in our bellies, so Walter and I mapped out a military-style plan to get us some more. We were fixin’ to take all the plums we could see…and no prisoners. Our plan was to go by Miss Willie Mae’s house on the other side of the vacant lots, cut through the thick woods (which would provide cover), stay low, follow the path to the garden, and finally belly-crawl the last few feet. To make a quick escape, we planned to push the fence down. I didn’t want us having to worry about climbing over the fence if something went wrong. We’d grab as many plums as could fill our pockets and our hands as we cupped them against our tummies. Then we’d take the plums home and eat them all in the backyard.
We even plotted Reverend Hendricks’ moves, sort of like Danny Ocean and his boys accounted for the moves of Terry Benedict in Ocean’s Eleven . They knew where Benedict would be, and we thought we knew Reverend Hendricks’ moves pretty well. Like clockwork, the Reverend would walk to church every morning around eight and walk back at five. Our plan was to get home from school at four and then roll out “Operation Plum Poach.” With only an hour window, we knew we had to move quickly. The whole thing was pretty elaborate for a nine-year-old and a 12-year-old, but like I said, those were some kind of wonderful plums! They could drive a boy to do things he shouldn’t be able to do.
And so, the day finally arrived. Then the hour. Then the moment. It was time. The plan was a go. We were ready. I ripped off my T-shirt, and Walter seemed puzzled by that. It wasn’t part of the plan, so he asked, “Why you takin’ off your shirt?”
“Camouflage!” I said with the authority of a general. I suppose I trusted that our brown skin would make us less visible through the dark woods. It made sense to me and must have started making sense to Walter, too, because he stripped off his shirt and followed. We eased into the woods by Miss Willie Mae’s house, and then hiked to the back as if we were going through to the next street. Then we slid back through the woods as planned, taking the path toward the garden, and got within 10 yards of the fence, stopping short of the well-manicured lawn with no cover. When the coast was clear, we commenced belly-crawlin’ the rest of way, and finally reached the plums. We started snatching up the fruit that littered the ground on both sides of the fence.
We had plenty.
We were set.
We had more than enough.
We wanted more.
If we hadn’t gotten greedy, we shoulda/woulda/coulda escaped unnoticed right then and there, but I spotted some beauties still clinging to the top of one of the trees. Those plums had our names on them, so I started shaking the tree at its base to get them loose. Plums started plopping all over Walter, and he got to giggling about it. It must have been the funniest thing that ever happened to him, because he started getting louder and louder. There was no hushing him up. Looking back, I probably should have just shoved a plum in his mouth. That would shut him up for sure. When he finally stopped giggling, we looked around to make sure no one was looking. Everything seemed fine, so we kept going.
The fence was stronger than I thought it was going to be, so pushing it down wasn’t happening. Plus, we realized at about that point that we didn’t want this to be a one-and-done poaching. No, sir…we wanted to come back for more later on once the trees recovered, so we didn’t want to leave any signs that we had been there. I told Walter to get inside the fence with me to help pick up the freshly fallen plums.
I was feeling pretty good about life at that moment. We were little masterminds rewarded with the spoils of our conquest. Plums covered the ground inside and outside the fence. It was fruit galore! “Operation Plum Poach” was a success. Then a voice came out of nowhere…
“Have you eaten from the tree that I
We even plotted Reverend Hendricks’ moves, sort of like Danny Ocean and his boys accounted for the moves of Terry Benedict in Ocean’s Eleven . They knew where Benedict would be, and we thought we knew Reverend Hendricks’ moves pretty well. Like clockwork, the Reverend would walk to church every morning around eight and walk back at five. Our plan was to get home from school at four and then roll out “Operation Plum Poach.” With only an hour window, we knew we had to move quickly. The whole thing was pretty elaborate for a nine-year-old and a 12-year-old, but like I said, those were some kind of wonderful plums! They could drive a boy to do things he shouldn’t be able to do.
And so, the day finally arrived. Then the hour. Then the moment. It was time. The plan was a go. We were ready. I ripped off my T-shirt, and Walter seemed puzzled by that. It wasn’t part of the plan, so he asked, “Why you takin’ off your shirt?”
“Camouflage!” I said with the authority of a general. I suppose I trusted that our brown skin would make us less visible through the dark woods. It made sense to me and must have started making sense to Walter, too, because he stripped off his shirt and followed. We eased into the woods by Miss Willie Mae’s house, and then hiked to the back as if we were going through to the next street. Then we slid back through the woods as planned, taking the path toward the garden, and got within 10 yards of the fence, stopping short of the well-manicured lawn with no cover. When the coast was clear, we commenced belly-crawlin’ the rest of way, and finally reached the plums. We started snatching up the fruit that littered the ground on both sides of the fence.
We had plenty.
We were set.
We had more than enough.
We wanted more.
If we hadn’t gotten greedy, we shoulda/woulda/coulda escaped unnoticed right then and there, but I spotted some beauties still clinging to the top of one of the trees. Those plums had our names on them, so I started shaking the tree at its base to get them loose. Plums started plopping all over Walter, and he got to giggling about it. It must have been the funniest thing that ever happened to him, because he started getting louder and louder. There was no hushing him up. Looking back, I probably should have just shoved a plum in his mouth. That would shut him up for sure. When he finally stopped giggling, we looked around to make sure no one was looking. Everything seemed fine, so we kept going.
The fence was stronger than I thought it was going to be, so pushing it down wasn’t happening. Plus, we realized at about that point that we didn’t want this to be a one-and-done poaching. No, sir…we wanted to come back for more later on once the trees recovered, so we didn’t want to leave any signs that we had been there. I told Walter to get inside the fence with me to help pick up the freshly fallen plums.
I was feeling pretty good about life at that moment. We were little masterminds rewarded with the spoils of our conquest. Plums covered the ground inside and outside the fence. It was fruit galore! “Operation Plum Poach” was a success. Then a voice came out of nowhere…
“Have you eaten from the tree that I
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