by Jim de Sousa (Marcia's son)
It was March of '91. I was off in a land of sand and camel dung. Protecting emirs, kings, and people that walked around in dresses and rags on their heads. Often thinking to myself that some day I might return to settle down on a plot of sand, and build that dream tent. Herd camels and smoke Turkish cigarettes.
All during this time my mother (Marcia, 2nd from the top) was home in the U.S., in a comfortable, warm house, watching the snow build up over the frozen lake (Waukewan) with my trusty Companion at her side (Hawkins). I often wrote letters home inquiring of the status of my ole companion, since his health was dwindling before my departure. We had to carry him up stairs and guide him down stairs so he wouldn't fall. Had to feel his nose during his nap to ensure he was still breathing. Pick up the clumps of hair that were just falling off his mangy body.
But he had been with us for 17 years, and brought us many a rock to us over those years. We were always hoping he would bring back to us that one rock laden with gold, so we could retire off of that one find.
Well, my mother's (Marcia, 2nd from the top) jealousy continued to rage as my letters and phone calls were always to inquire about my crony, Hawkins. And then I'd ask about Mom second. One day, I believe it was March 16th, the last day of the ground war in Desert Storm, the day the barracks were hit with the Scud missile; the day that the news reported that the unit that was hit was Military Police unit from New Hampshire. (The reporters made that mistake because our unit responded to the scene and we were the only soldiers that they saw).
With all of my father's and sister's worry for my safety, my mother (Marcia, 2nd from the top) knew it was her chance. I am sure she thought will all the commotion and worry, no one could possibly miss Hawkins. After everybody had left the house, she put the leash (bright purple, 3 feet in length) on Hawkins and drug him out of the house. I'm convinced she didn't even guide him down the stairs. I can see his stiff body now bouncing down the stairs with my evil mother (Marcia, 2nd from the top) laughing with an evil grin on her face.
Off to Dr. Olstrom's office. The needle was awaiting Hawkins arrival. And the worst part..... my father wanted him cremated. After his cremation, my father couldn't bring himself to go pick up the ashes; come to think of it, they never were picked up. Are they still there? Should Indiana Jones be brought in for this one? Or has my mother (Marcia, 2nd from the top) done something? I always wanted to put a big headstone on the beach with his ashes below.
And that is the saga of my ole pal HAWKINS.