Bell's Angels

Ralph craned his neck, squinting down at the town below, from the shade of his porch, wondering what that murmuring noise was. As the sound grew from a rustle to a clattering din, he walked to the street to try to figure out what was happening. Shading his eyes against the summer sun he saw the darndest sight. The hearse from McCaffrey’s Funeral home was rolling away from St. Anthony’s Church followed by what looked like every kid in town on a bike. But what was making that racket he still wondered.

"Bell's Angels."

"Huh?" Ralph was startled by his neighbor who had also come out to see what was going on. They stood solemnly, looking at the funeral cortege on the street below.

"Them's Bell's Angels. Marv Bell passed a couple of days ago, and the kids showed up to give him an escort to the cemetery.” Ralph still looked puzzled.

“Remember when Marv started going around town trying to give every kid a playing card and a clothespin to put on their bike? He wanted to wake up kids’ imaginations, he said. Then he found out most of the kids didn’t have bikes, so he made that his project. That ain’t even half the story. My granddaughter Angela works down at the bank. She told me all about it.”

The men sighed. Marvin Bell was a good man.

* * * * * *

Marv raised quite a racket coming through the doors of the Follansbee Bank and Trust. Ever since he set his mind to putting some playfulness in kids’ lives he had taken to rolling around town in his wheelchair with a couple of playing cards pinned to the wheels. Everyone at the bank knew Marvin Bell, so they welcomed him with a friendly wave as he made his way over to Angela Betancourt’s desk. Marv had called her that morning to discuss his plan. The day before had received a check in the mail. As faith filled as he was, Marv never believed in miracles, but getting a check for $20,000 just as he was thinking he might have to give up on his plan to do a little more good before he died, was literally an answer to his prayer.

“Darn it Angela, I’m not talking about some big ‘Make a Wish Foundation’ kind of deal. I just want to put a spark in kids’ brains. Yes, you heard me right. I want to use my money from the settlement to buy bikes for kids in town.”

“Mr. Bell, this is about more than my fiduciary duty. You and Mrs. Bell were like another set of grandparents to me. You’ve always been so kind to me, now I’m trying to watch out for you. I was so excited when I read the news that Naphthalene Corporation was going to settle that class action lawsuit for $20,000 for every employee who worked at the Follansbee facility. This money will give you a little security.”

“Oh Angela, I know I’m not rich. I’m going to be gone soon, and I want to do something good before I go. When I got the news about my cancer I sat there feeling sorry for myself for a while, but pretty quick, I got sick of looking at my lot in life, and I started looking at the people around me. What I noticed most was how sad and empty people seem. That’s bad for anyone, but it’s the worst for kids. I don’t see kids out playing like they used to, laughing and carrying on a hundred different ways. When I was a kid, I remember how much fun I used to have flying down the road on my bike. I would put a playing card up against the spokes and make believe I was James Dean.”

“Anyway, I've been going through my house trying to clean up and put things in order. I started in the back, in the laundry room and I found a big bin of clothespins from the days when Marge used to hang out the wash. Not much later, going through the kitchen draws, I found a couple boxes of cards way at the back, from when we used to play bridge with the neighbors. That’s when it hit me. Why not give every kid a card and a clothespin and see if that would give their imagination a little tickle.”

Angie was suddenly flooded with happy memories. “Mr. Bell, I remember going with my grandparents for card games at your house. I would sit in the corner reading and playing. Mrs. Bell would always give me snacks and you would bring me toys, paper and crayons. You’ve always been so good with kids.”

“It was a great sadness for Marge and me that we couldn’t have children, but once we accepted it, we tried to do what we could for kids in town. We had a lot of fun helping out, doing whatever we could. I lost my motivation after Marge died, but somehow, packing up the house, getting ready for my own end woke up my imagination, because I started making this plan to get some smiles on a few young faces.”

“I went down to the supermarket last Saturday and sat by the door, ready to give those cards and clothespins to out kids shopping with their folks. When I’d see a kid coming I would roll back forth on my chair so they could hear the sound of the cards on the spokes, and then I would try to start a conversation. What a sorry day. Most of those kids said they didn’t have bikes, and their parents would smile at me, but they looked at me like I was half crazy.” Marv looked sad. “Angela, It turns out things were worse than I thought.”

“I know this is a broken down town, but I still love it here. It breaks my heart to see folks without hope. When Marge and I moved here we were so full of hope. Your grandad and I started down at the chemical plant on the same day. We were proud of our good paying jobs and excited for the future. That seems so long ago now. A little at a time our town just seemed to fall apart. One by one the factories closed. People’s hope slowly faded. To me, the scandal at Church really snuffed the light out. If you can’t trust in God, well, you might as well forget it. After Father Shea got run out of town for those terrible things he did, nobody wanted to go back. I asked that new priest some pretty tough questions, and I think he’s alright, but nobody wants to let their kids hang around there. I get it. We’ll never know how many kids that son of a -, well let’s just say I hope there’s an Old Testament God waiting for him on the other side. But it’s not just the church. Scouting has gone to pieces too. Parents are too busy and too stressed to do anything extra for their kids, and teachers can only do so much. Heck, I see some of them working a second job just to keep their own families together.”

So, I decided I needed to find a way for these kids to have bikes. On Sunday, after church I went down to the pawnshop, but the snake who runs the place didn’t want to talk once he knew that I was trying to get him to do something charitable. Eats me up that one of the few businesses in town that makes any money trades in broken dreams. I went home and spent the rest of the day trying to figure out a solution while I continued sorting through a lifetime of memories. That night I prayed about it, and Monday morning I got the letter about the $20,000 settlement. Honestly, I’ve haven’t actually prayed much since Marge passed, but it seems like God didn’t mind.” Marv laughed.

Angela sat on the edge of her desk looking in awe at this man who had done so much for her years before. Even now in his last days, he found a way to think beyond himself. “Mr. Bell, you’ve always been so generous. Now that I understand better what you have in mind, I think this is a great idea. I hope you’ll forgive me for acting a little over protective .”

“Oh Angela, it means a lot to me that you care. And when it comes to money, like they say, ‘there’s no luggage rack on a hearse’. I know I’ve taken up a lot of your time, but there’s one more thing. I brought you a little present.” Marv reached into the pocket on the side of his wheelchair, pausing before producing the contents. “When I was cleaning up I found something else that I want to start handing out to these kids.” He held out a black book, embossed with gold letters.

Angela teared up at the sight of it. “Bell’s Angels!” she exclaimed. “I still have the one that Mrs. Bell gave me in Sunday School. She gave you one too?” Angela joked.

“I have a whole box of them at home. Studying all those bible verses was a big deal and Marge wanted you kids to know she was proud of you. She thought a journal would be nice. We had to buy quite a few to get the covers printed fancy like that. Of course we didn’t know she would leave us so sudden. I figured she’d be handing out those books for years. Anyway, here’s the rest of my idea. Not only do I want to get every kid in town on a bike, I want them to start writing in those journals. It’s pretty funny that Marge wanted you kids to think like heavenly angels, and now I’m going to use her journals to encourage a whole new generation to pretend they’re members of a motorcycle gang.” Marv and Angela both had a good laugh over that.”

“I don’t think they’ll get too carried away,” Angela reassured him.

.“No harm in pretending.” Marv agreed. “It gets the dreams started. It doesn't matter to me what kids write about in there, it just matters that they get writing. Jokes, stories, drawings, dreams, plans, lists, anything really.”

“I’m so glad you told me about this Mr. Bell. I just have to know one more thing. Would you mind if I helped you out with this project?.”

“Mind? It would be like a dream come true. What’s your idea?”

“Well, Right after college I worked at a big resort in Florida. It was nice, but not my style. Anyway, they had bikes of all sizes for families to use during their stays. Every spring they would replace the bikes so they would stay shiny and nice, and they didn’t have to worry about maintenance. I keep in touch with the lady who was my boss there and I think she would be willing to give us the old bikes. The resort would get a tax deduction and we would get our kids out on wheels.”

“Angela, this sounds too good to be true. If we get the bikes for free what are we going to do with my $20,000.”

“How does the Marvin Bell Scholarship sound?”

“I like the sound of the Marjory and Marvin Bell Scholarship better.”

Angela got the used resort bikes shipped up to Follansbee by the end of the month, to get things started before Marv passed. Together they handed out the first of the Bell’s Angels’ journals and talked about dreams. With additional support from the Bank’s board of directors a scholarship trust was established with his $20,000 settlement, and Marvin Bell could rest in the knowledge that he had done the best thing a man could do before he died. He rescued the spirit of his town.