Jack

Wednesday 9/11/24

Introductions are in order. I'd mentioned writing a story that was a mess and needed a lot of work. Well, I'm un-messing it. (After having written another story--nearly done--in between.) This is from that work in progress, called "Jack the Great Carrying Ant." Thought I'd put him here for now. If this comes out how I think it could, it's likely to be for The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy.

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Jack the ant had an amazing ability for carrying things. Not just lifting them, hard as that is, but walking around with whatever it was that he had picked up as if there wasn’t anything in his mouth or on his back and Jack was unencumbered, which is a big word considering the size of an ant that means without anything to weigh you down.

Jack could carry a whole leaf—and those can get heavy depending on who you are—for as long and as far as he had to. Or a twig, which was heavier still.

Jack would even carry other ants who needed a lift. He’d use his powerful jaws and literally put them on his back and then say, “You ready?” before starting off again.

These were ants that had been hurt and needed to make it back to the big sand hill where the ants lived so that they could be helped by other ants with the proper training.

Sometimes—and it got intense—Jack had to get them out of the way before they were stepped on by something like a big human foot, which is one of the worst things that can happen to an ant. Trust me—you don’t want to get stepped on.

But if you’re not doing your best to help those who need it, what are you really doing?

That was a question Jack asked himself often. He knew the answer, but it was such an important answer—and an important question, too—that he figured every reminder was useful.

The other ants would talk about Jack when Jack wasn’t around.

“Jack did some super carrying today,” one of them might say, back at the hill. “Did you see him with that leaf? That was the biggest leaf this fall. And Jack just lifted it up, easy as you please, and brought her in no problem.”

Another ant would add, “Did you see him yesterday morning after Tom took that tumble? Good old Jack, flipped Tom on his back and got him home, safe and sound, un-stepped on.”

What Jack did was so important that it never seemed to get mentioned to Jack himself. That seems strange, right? Why wouldn’t the other ants just tell Jack?

Well, if you’re alive, there’s a strong chance you’re not telling someone something that would mean a lot to them if you told them, especially if they’re doing what you’re not doing.

That’s kind of how it goes until you fix that. Just like there’s someone who isn’t saying something to you that would mean a lot for you to hear. And ants are as much alive as you are, no matter who you might be. Fact.

Then came a day when the unthinkable happened: Jack, of all people—I mean ants—injured his leg on a stair in a park. Jack never had setbacks and yet there he was, stuck in place.  

No one thought Jack would ever need help so the other ants didn’t notice. They took it for granted that Jack would always be fine, because Jack was Jack, the great carrying ant.

The truth was, Jack often felt like he needed help and what everyone else needs. The life of an ant isn’t an easy one. It can be wonderful. Richly rewarding. But part of the reason it’s so rewarding is because it isn’t easy. You have to try hard. And when you try hard, you can make a big difference in all sorts of ways, and nothing feels better than that.

Jack tried hard for others, but who tried hard for Jack?

“Oh woe is me!” he declared.

Jack wasn’t only crying out because of the situation he was in. He’d been hurting for a long time about what wasn’t said to him and it was only now that he realized how much. All of the carrying had kept him from having to stop and think about how sad he got.

Not a nice morning. And that’s before getting into the honest-to-goodness possibility that this would be Jack’s very last morning on earth.

But Jack was so down, in more ways than one, that he felt like that wouldn’t be so bad.

And for the first time in Jack’s life, which he’d spent looking out in front of him for all that could be seen, gotten to, and carried, he shut his eyes and he awaited—I shudder to say it—a foot from above.