Zebadee Bee

by Nellie June (a bedtime story I told my kids... before bed one night)

The sun was rising over the top of a beautiful garden patch. Bees were buzzing throughout the garden and a tiny voice could be heard in the wind. Young Mother Bee could be heard encouraging her boy to get ready for his first day of school.

"Zebadee!" she snapped. "Hurry up, you are going to be late for your first day!"

"Yes 'em," Zebadee said, a little down in the mouth.

"What's wrong? It will be fun. You will make new friends and learn many new and wonderful things." Mother Bee encouraged. "I am sorry, I know that you are worried, but I promise you will be fine. We really need to leave now."

"Yes 'em."

As they entered the school tree, Zebadee noticed how beautiful and large this new school was. The school he went to at the beginning of the year was nothing like this. Little boy and girl inscets and animals moved quickly to and fro knowing exactly where they should be going. Zebadee felt out of place. It is never an easy task to move to a new school mid-year, but Zebadee knew that he would be fine just as Mother Bee had told him.

Upon finding his room, Zabadee Bee entered meekly. Finding the teacher at the front he handed her his tardy slip and said, "Hello ma'am. My name is Zebadee Bee."

Zebadee could hear a snicker from the other children.

"Take a seat, please. Zebadee, we are on page fifty-nine in our book." Teacher said.

Zebadee took the first open seat. It was on the left side of the room next to a little green tree frog. He turned and smiled at the boy as he sat and opened to page fifty-nine. But the tree frog stuck out his tongue and chuckled. All the other children began to laugh.

At lunch Zebadee sat at a table by himself until the little green frog decided to join him.

"I'm John." he said and continued. "What kind of name is Zebadee? I mean Zebadee Bee? And what's with all the 'yes ma'am and no ma'am'? Who talks like that?"

Before Zebadee could answer a crowd had appeared around his table and he looked up to see a wasp laughing and a grasshopper snickering. At the next table he saw kids pointing and laughing as they whispered, "That new kid is weird. His name is Zebadee."

Zebadee, not sure what to do sat quietly and ate his lunch.

As soon as the bell rang he was out the door. He met Mother Bee and as they buzzed home he asked, "Mother, why did you name me Zebadee? Why do we have to move around so much? Why do I talk different?"

Mother Bee answered, "My sweet-heart. You speak differently because you are from a different part of the country side. Each region has their own sound. We move around because we go where there is work to be done. And most importantly, you are named after a very brave bee. Probably, the bravest bee I know."

"Really?" Zebadee asked. "Who is he? Is he famous? Was he a general in a battle? An explorer maybe?" This was an exciting thought to Zebadee. The idea that someone else had the same name and the possibility that this bee could be someone of importance was a comfort to him.

Mother smiled and replied, "I will tell you who you are named after when you are older... or you can try to figure it out on your own. We can make it our own little game."

The next day at school Zebadee was greeted in much of the same way. John laughed at him and at lunch he over heard the kids mocking his name. As John approached his table, Zebadee remembered what his mother said about him being named after a very brave bee. And suddenly he wasn't very afraid of John and the other children.

"Zebadee, hahaha! What kind of dumb hick name is Zebadee? hahaha! What part of the country side are you from where it is ever okay to be named Zebadee?" John said as loudly as he could making sure as many kids as possible could hear him.

Zebadee put down his lunch and looked John in the eye, "I'm from the South. I don't know if it is okay to be named Zebadee there, but I do know that I am named after a very brave bee. The bravest bee my Mother Bee knows. AND! who wants to be named John? Everybody is named John?" And with that Zebadee picked up his honey comb and began to finish his lunch.

The little frog, John, was so stunned that he hopped back to his seat. Zebadee thought he saw a little red wasp smile at him from the next table.

That day after school Zebadee was in a much better mood. He told Mother Bee about John and what he said and how the wasp at the next table smiled.

"Mother, you should have seen me! I was brave just like Zebadee! And John, John didn't know what to say!" Zebadee said with a smile. "Please, tell me who that brave bee is that I am named after. Give me a hint or something!"

Mother Bee replied, "This brave bee isn't only the bravest bee I know, but he is also very wise."

The next day Zebadee got to eat lunch in peace, but at recess John had plans.

While Zebadee was swinging with some other children John walked up behind and pushed him off his swing.

"Zebadee! The dumb hick from the South. Can't even swing without falling." He said loud enough for everyone to hear. "I bet they don't have swings where he is from. Are you too poor for swings? Is this your first time on a swing, ZEB-a-DEE?!" John teased.

Zebadee brushed the dirt off of his body and stood up trembling with anger.

"Oh, look! He's mad! What are you gonna do, Zeb-a-Dee? Are you gonna fight me?"

But much to John's surprise Zebadee just smiled and got back on his swing. "Yeah, John. We have swings where I am from and no this isn't my first time on a swing, but it is my first time being pushed off a swing by a mean little frog." With that the kids began to snicker but this time they were laughing with Zebadee and not at him.

"You should have seen it Mother!" Zebadee shouted as he recounted his day for his mother. "I think I might have actually made a few friends today. You know, I don't think that all of these kids are bad, but that just this John guy is a bully."

"Sounds like it," Mother Bee replied "and maybe he is just scared of whatever is different from himself?"

"Yeah. Hey. Give me another hint about who I am named after." Zebadee pleaded with his mother.

"You still haven't figured it out?" Mother Bee asked.

"Nope."

"Okay, not only is this bee brave and wise. This bee is also smart, funny and friendly. Also, I love this bee more than any bee in the world."

The days passed and Zebadee continued to go to school each day. No longer did Mother Bee have to encourage him to go, but he loved school. He made many friends and was asked to serve on the student council. By the end of the year so much had changed that he even became friends with John. Zebadee became so wrapped up in school that he hadn't noticed that his mother never told him why she named him Zebadee.

The last day of school John asked the little bee how he really got the name, Zebadee. This time John was genuinely curious.

"So, really. Who are you named after?" John asked.

"I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet. I have been so busy that I forgot about asking."

That day at home Zebadee went to his mother and asked, "Mother Bee, please tell me. Who am I named after? Why did you name me Zebadee?"

Mother Bee smiled a loving smile and said, "You are named after the bravest bee I know. You are named after a wise bee. A bee that is also friendly, smart and funny. But most importantly a bee that I love more than any other bee in the entire world. It is YOU!

She continued while hugging Zebadee, " YOU, are the bravest bee I know. Moving from school to school is a hard thing and requires a lot of courage. You are a very wise bee. There is a lot of wisdom required for one to know when not to fight. You are a smart, funny, friendly bee, and I knew it would be just a short time before you would let everyone see just exactly who you are."

Mother Bee pulled back and held Zebadee's face in her hands, "From the time you were born you have been special to me, so I wanted you to have a special name. You are unique and so is your name. There will never be another you, Zebadee."

Zebadee smiled as his mother finished, "And I love you very much."

Greener Grass
by Nellie June/ Mebella3

Growing up in the south, I often heard adults around me use the expression, “The grass is greener on the other side." Now, I don't know if this is a common phrase used in other parts of our wondrous United States, but it is very common down here. Usually this expression was thrown at me by a parent when I was claiming that a friend had something better than myself.

”But Dad. Jennifer Jones never has to do chores and her father bought her a new pair of GAP jeans!” I would plead. “She has it so much better than I do...”

“Well, you know what,” (here it comes) My father would retort. “The grass is always greener on the other side for you, huh?!”

Sad to say that fifteen years later, I haven't out grown my lack of contentment. Thirty years old and I still struggle with comparing myself to others. I'm trying to keep time with the Family Jones. Now the toys are bigger and clothes costly.

“Well, how is it that my neighbor has a new Mustang (a black GT), a boat (The Party Barge) and a pool (salt water filtration)? You know, I think that his grass is actually greener than mine and not a dandelion in his yard. What do I have to do to get that...."

While out cutting our lawn today (The Jones' have a gardener) I had an epiphany. I was riding along in an orderly fashion listening to the motor and looking down at the grass (dandelions). Slowly, I moved through the lawn. I could hear the motor get bogged down every time I would come to this certain thick patch. I hopped off of the riding-mower to check it out. Upon closer examination I realized that this was not simply a patch of thick grass, but two strips of fat green, lush, vibrantly colored, lawn vegetation from Heaven!

“Man, if only my whole yard was made up of this stuff. I would be the envy of the neighborhood!” I thought as I stepped further back to admire my little patch of Heaven. “Wait.Hold the phone!(Mr Jones has the new 4G touch screen). This vibrant grass is growing right over my septic tank's drain field. This is poop grass! This grass is so beautiful because it is full of human waste!”

As I got back on my mower and began to think about this beautiful grass that has flourished because it was full of poop, that familiar phrase came back to me. “The grass is greener on the other side.” What if the Jones' really don't have it that great? What if my peers are all show but at the root have been feasting on the septic system of the world? I mean, I know some of them well and I must say a few are full of … poop.”

My generation spends so much time worrying about having the latest car, electronic gadget, or clothes. We want our kids to attend the best schools, live in the best neighborhoods, and often not for their benefit, but often just for appearances. We want the best and we wanted it yesterday (not unlike Veruca Salt). Often we look at our neighbors and think, “Wow. They have it all. What a great life they must have.” Maybe we need to stop and think deeper.

Perhaps a person's grass is only green and not their life. Possibly deep down their life is just a septic mess. You never know. Young guys remember this: The new young hot girl that just moved into the apartment next to you might just be a shell of hotness. She might bring a lot of “mess” with her. Young ladies remember that guy that took you out in the nice car. The one with the nice hair and teeth, who said the right things and wore the right clothes. The guy you went out with because he had the prestigious job... he might just be full of “poop”. Who knows? Let this be a warning to you to investigate a bit deeper and discern what that covetous turf is feasting on.

Certainly people are capable of producing wonderfully green lawns with honest hard work. One can fertilize their yard, aerate, burn and till. When hard work is applied the possibilities are endless. It is amazing what some of the master gardeners I know can produce. Yet, I am reminded by my own experience, that the greenest grass isn't always the cleanest or purest. The grass isn't always greener on the other side. In my yard the grass is greener over the septic. And well, the Jones'.. they are now going through a horrible divorce (wonder if he will sell the Mustang).