U N O F F I C I A L
H O M E P A G E
As usual, no real "Adventure" in this fluff piece, unless you count those of parenthood.
A little background history: The inspiration for this story came from a column by Mike
Royko, who passed away at age 64 on April 29, 1997.
Royko was a tough-talking, pull-no-punches columnist for the Chicago Tribune; he
stood up for what he believed in (he was an ardent supporter of civil rights, back when
supporting civil rights could get you lynched) and didn't back down, even when the PC
thought police were breathing down his neck. He was one of the great journalists who
makes me, and many others, proud to be members of his profession. His column made
you laugh, and made you cry, and made you think.
So long, Slats.
-----
"So if you ever have a 9-year-old son who says he is in love, don't laugh at him.
It can happen."* -- Mike Royko
"It Can Happen"
by Winnie Lim
In memory of Mike Royko (1932-1997)
It was summer in Florida. The sky was a glorious, cloudless blue, and the sun shone
brightly on Palm Key.
Benton Quest sipped his coffee and turned to the business page. Quest Enterprises stock
was up 2 points.
At the kitchen counter behind him, Race Bannon was absorbed in the sports pages.
A small white bulldog skittered into the kitchen, followed by a small boy. The dog headed
straight for a kitchen cabinet, pawing at it and whimpering until the boy opened the
cabinet and took out a bag of Kibble.
"Good morning, Jonny," Benton said, smiling at his son.
"G'morning, Dad," Jonny replied, occupied with filling the dog's food and water dishes.
When Bandit was eating, Jonny climbed up on the stool across from his father and poured
himself a bowl of cereal, emptying out the box. "Cool! That's the last box top I need for
the Captain Atominizer decoder ring!" he said, ripping off the precious cardboard strip
and tucking it carefully in a pocket.
"That's nice, son," Benton said, passing his son the comics pages.
Jonny was absorbed in the comics and cereal for a few minutes. Then, "Dad?"
"Yes, son?" Benton looked up.
"How do you know when you love somebody?"
Benton raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
"I just wanna know," Jonny replied.
It was a legitimate question, so … "Well, Jonny, when you love somebody, you want to
do everything you can to take care of them, make them happy when they're sad, and keep
them from getting hurt. You feel happy when you're near them." His eyes grew misty.
"And you miss them when they're away."
"Okay." Jonny nodded solemnly. "I love Jessie."
A *clank* and a sputtering sound came from the counter. Benton turned to see a rapidly-
spreading pool of coffee on the countertop and a flustered-looking Race Bannon.
"Say again, son?" Benton said, trying very hard to keep a straight face. Jonny looked so
serious.
"I love Jessie," Jonny said matter-of-factly.
"Is that so?" Race spoke up at last.
Jonny looked across to the burly bodyguard. "I want her to be happy all the time, and I
miss her when she's away."
"Sounds like love to me," Benton grinned in spite of himself. It was so easy to bait Race.
"But -- but --" Race sputtered. "You're only nine!"
"Uh-huh?" Jonny said, looking genuinely confused.
"You're too young to be in love!" Race exclaimed.
"Now, Race," Benton interjected. To Jonny, he said, "What are you planning to do about
this?"
"I dunno," Jonny replied. "What do I do now?"
Benton and Race exchanged a look. Benton put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Quite
frankly, son, we have never been able to figure that out."
Jonny shrugged. "Okay. C'mon, Bandit." He climbed down from the stool and left the
kitchen.
The two men watched the little boy and his dog leave.
"Kids..." Race's grin was shaky.
"Kids," Benton agreed.
It was a beautiful Florida spring morning. The sun shone onto a verdant green lawn, and a
fragrant breeze blew through the open French windows of the house on Palm Key.
Not for the first time, Benton Quest wished that Rachel were here to see her son. She
would be so proud of Jon. Just as he himself was proud of this young man beside him,
standing straight and tall in the living-room.
Not so young anymore, he reminded himself. Jon Quest was a success in his own right,
having moved out of the shadow of his father's name to become one of the world's leading
security and intelligence experts. Benton had been doubtful about his son's career choice
at first, but Jon had been sure.
Jon looked nervous, but his eyes were shining. He glanced at his father, who smiled and
nodded slightly. All was well.
The pianist struck up the opening chord of the Wedding March. All eyes turned towards
the entrance.
Jessica Bannon was a vision in white satin and lace. There was a collective sigh of
admiration from the assembled throng, as, on the arm of her father, she seemed almost to
float down the aisle between the rows of chairs. She carried herself with the same, sweetly
strong confidence that had elevated her to the top of her profession in communications
R&D, and that had earned her the respect of her peers; Benton couldn't think of a better
life partner for Jon, and, obviously, neither had his son.
Soon Jessica had reached Jon's side. Benton smiled at her, and she smiled back absently.
It was clear that she had eyes only for Jon, who was staring at her with a look of pure
admiration on his face.
Race Bannon placed her hand in Jon's.
"Take care of her," Benton heard the craggy-faced man say quietly, his voice catching.
Jon nodded solemnly. Race withdrew to stand beside Estella, who discreetly dabbed at
the corner of one eye.
Then Benton heard a stifled laugh from his son. Jon and Jessica were grinning broadly at
each other, as if sharing a private joke.
A flash of light caught the older man's eye, drawing his attention to Jessica's left hand,
tucked securely in Jon's right elbow.
Winking proudly at the end of her littlest finger was a shiny Captain Atominizer decoder
ring.
END
* From Mike Royko's Oct 5 1979 column, which can be seen in its
entirety at
http://www.chicago.tribune.com/news/royko/carol.htm
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