(Saying another good-bye at Burbank Airport)
(Henry and Awesomez bid farewell)
While we were at the airport waiting for our flight Henry suddenly remembered he had a cap gun in his suitcase. Thankfully, this thought came to his brain in the restaurant while we were killing time before our flight with Awesomez.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “You have a gun in your suitcase? What were you thinking?”
“Well, I thought it would be fun to keep it after playing with Parker, but last time we checked my bag so I didn’t think it was a big deal. I forgot you brought the extra suitcase inside yours for the hand-me-downs from Awesomez.”
I didn’t know what the heck to do with it so we left it on the table. As we walked out our server chased us out.
“Uhhh you left something on the table!” She said wild-eyed.
“It’s trash. Just throw it away.” Awesomez calmly replied with a wave of her hand.
“Let me get this straight. She was going to give us the gun back? What if we were terrorists? Oh here, you forgot your weapon” I said sarcastically.
As we were saying good-bye to Awesomez with hugs, tears and promises to visit I could see a group of servers gathering at the entrance to the restaurant eyeing us. I felt nervous. Guilty of a federal crime. It was time to board the plane and we still had to go through security, I didn’t need to be pulled aside and questioned.
“The way they’re looking us you’d think we had a bomb.” Oh my God! I didn’t just say BOMB in an airport in Los Angeles? Had I lost my mind? “We’d better go before they decide we need to be detained.” And with one last hug, off we went.
Of course, when you’re in a hurry everything goes wrong. Henry accidently left a tube of toothpaste in his bag. His bag was searched.
“Henry!”
“I thought I was checking my bag!” He said desperately.
“Do you want us to have this put in your checked luggage?” the woman asked.
“No. I prefer you throw it out and we make our plane. I’d hate to miss it over a tube of citrus toothpaste he barely uses anyway.” I glared at the criminal putting his tennis shoes on.
As we trotted through the airport toward the gate we heard our names called for final boarding. We went into a dead run, business cards flying out of my camera bag.
“Should I get those?” Henry called.
“NOOOOOO just keep moving.”
Everyone clapped and smiled as we boarded the plane and took our seats. Each of them glad they weren’t us disheveled, breathing hard, gripping our carry-on.
Once seated, Henry and I promptly closed our eyes. With only ten hours of sleep in the last few days I thought I would go right out, but my mind was racing. I was anxious to get back to the farm and start back on the fence. My mind buzzed with ideas about what needed to get done. I could no longer avoid the paper disaster in Mike’s old room with guests coming this summer. I would need two guest rooms. I could procrastinate no longer.
Eventually, Henry woke up and we both needed to go to the restroom which meant we’d have to wake up the guy in the aisle seat. Henry gently nudged him apologizing. Henry being a boy, and all that that implies, was already back in his seat entrenched in conversation when I arrived.
“Mama? Do you have a business card? I need one.” Henry asked matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“He’s a bee farmer?” Henry informed me. “Did you know bees are disappearing exponentially? And that if bees disappear man won’t be far behind because there will be no bees to pollinate the food?” Mama, this is Dan. Dan this is my mother.”
“I’m Denise,” I said shaking his hand.
We talked about farming, and laughed about work coveralls versus going to town coveralls. How distant most of society was from an agrarian lifestyle in less than a hundred years and we talked about the severity of the bee situation. This led to a lengthy discussion between Dan and Henry.
“So you get how many pounds of honey from one hive?” Henry asked thoughtfully.
“About seventy.” Dan replied
“And you sell that at $6.00 a pound?”
“Right.”
“What are your costs?” Henry inquired and kept inquiring about combs, wax and bee rentals to farmers. “So they pay you to bring your hive to their fields and you get to keep the honey?”
“Right.” Dan responded.
“Mama, I think you need to get some bees.” Henry said seriously. “It would help the Earth and you could make some money.”
I’d been listening silently as my little entrepreneur asked some surprisingly insightful questions, and had already come to the same conclusion. I was excited about the bees. The idea of them had brought me renewed hope. Maybe the bees would be our “applesauce” like in “Babyboom”. Colonists certainly needed bees, heck otherwise they wouldn’t have had mead to drink or honey to sweeten things. George Washington and every other farmer knew how important the bee was to life. I’d been interested in bees for a while, but hadn’t been ready to dive in not knowing much about them, but after talking to Dan I was convinced we could do it.
“Actually, I think it sounds like this should be your business Honey.”
“Mama Really?”
“Well, you’re birthday’s coming up. I’ll talk to your dad. It isn’t that big an investment, a hundred dollars or so and maybe he can charge it.”
“Frankly, I think this guy could sell a ketchup pop sicle to a girl in a white dress.” Dan remarked.
“Hey, you know that hot dog is lookin’ mighty dry.” Henry volleyed getting the appropriate laughter from the surrounding passengers. (Dan teaching us about the plight of the bee and how to care for them)
“Give Cedar Glen Bee Farm a call in Stanwood. The bees should be there by Wednesday, they’re bringing them up this week. Otherwise, you’ll miss the Spring and have to wait for next year.”
As we deplaned in Seattle and said good-bye Henry turned to me. “Mama, I’ve got the name.”
“What is it?”
“Henry’s Sweet Ass Honey.” He smiled proudly. “I think the label should have Miracle in a bee suit. I’m going to talk to the Acme General store and see if they’ll carry it.”
“Sweet.” I said with a smile.
“Mommmmm.” He laughed.


















