Piggy Banks and Walkie Talkies

 Piggy Banks and Walkie Talkies

(“Watch yourselves! Keep from wanting all kinds of things you should not have. A man’s life is not made up of things, even if he has many riches.” Luke 12:15)

He had the piggy bank since before he could remember.
Perhaps a grandparent or uncle had given it to him,
or maybe it was a premium for opening a youth bank account
at the downtown savings and loan.
All he knew, he put all his extra coins through the slot
in the pig’s ceramic back and loved the idea that one day
the piggy would be full.

It was true that kids in his neighborhood played
cops and robbers
with sticks and six-shooters made of wood.
One boy had a bb gun, but he kept it at home.

Most of them had pet dogs, mongrels, and mutts their
parents
made them keep rounded up in the back yard. If
they had allowed
the friends might have used them to herd the cattle they
pretended to rustle. His was named
Frisky.

They made a fort beneath the lowering limbs
of a neighbor’s pine tree. As dusk settled
they became dark as the shadows and could wait out
the search party sent by the day’s prepubescent sheriff.
They sent out scouts out across the street and around the block
to inform them when the den might be attacked.

Some days later he happened upon an ad in the back
of a Superman comic book. In 1966 everyone read
Batman, The Green Hornet, The Archies, and Mad Magazine.

Two army green walkie talkies: $12.99!

The perfect advantage when scouts and robbers needed
secret communication.

He went to the piggy bank, perhaps three quarters full,
and turned it over to pull out the rubber stopper in
the piggy’s stomach. But there was none.

How had he never noticed? Had he never thought of spending
his treasure on candy, or firecrackers, or cinnamon toothpicks before?

He showed the bank to his mom who laughed at his predicament.
“You have to break the bank”, she said, “like a pinata.”

Embarrassed at his lack of knowledge
he tiptoed back to his room. On the way he
grabbed a hammer from the junk drawer
and set the piggy bank on his dresser. With
a few taps dampened by a towel from the laundry
the pig split open like easter morning.

Counting his bounty (he had enough plus a dime
or two for candy), he put it all in a plastic bag
and walked downtown to shop for his walkie talkies.
And there they were, perfect, green like a jeep,
with volume dials and batteries included.
He poured the money onto the counter while
the shop owner smiled.

The next night the usual rustlers showed up
running in and out of the yards and bushes.
The thieves hurried to their hideout while the
cops started the hunt. With walkie talkie
in hand
he was ready to take the coppers down.

Their scout followed the posse across to houses
and past the apartment complex at the corner.
He pushed the button, “Cops on the move. Over.”

No one heard the call in the hideout, just the buzz
like am radio makes at night. So

The boy with the broken piggy bank
snuck out from the hideout and was duly arrested
before he could turn around.

He read the instructions the next day, the ones he
used when he tested them with his brother. And,
though the walkie talkies worked just fine in the house,
in the yard, and next door

He read, “Range, up to 200 feet.”

At 11 he was unsure how far that was. But it was too far.
He had to admit defeat. And
find another piggy bank of plastic
with a door to remove coins on
the installment plan.