This episode of The Greenbelt takes a look at March Madness. Plus, a bonus book review of an upcoming novel that's getting a lot of buzz from booksellers.

*This novel is due to be published May, 2017

I could hear a true crime podcast being played from another room in my house. I couldn't get the specifics, but understood it was about a long ago, unsolved murder. I thought about that as I was reading 'Broken River,' a novel about a nearly forgotten double murder in a little house by the edge of the forest. Of course it's difficult to sell a house with that kind of baggage, so it becomes a teenage party house, a drug den, a place for hobos to crash, a den for squirrels. Years later a little family from New York City is looking for a fresh start. The mother is a novelist, the father an artist, and neither is that put off by the history of the house. In fact, they're quite curious -- especially their 12 year old girl. Meanwhile, the internet has not at all forgotten about the cold case murder. Clues are still being posted, and one new clue hits a nerve with the killers, who'd thought they were free and clear of their mess. Will they again have to pay a visit to the little house by the edge of the forest? 

I would recommend 'Broken River' to anyone looking for a terrific mystery/thriller, or just a gritty novel that gets you into the heads of a motley crew of characters. I'm sure happy that someone put this book into my hands.         

In this episode of 'The Greenbelt,' there is No Doubt who Andy's favorite band is. Also, a bonus short story about a man who is kindly asked not to sing at a birthday party.

Rockin’ Bob at the Birthday Party

Bob Romaine felt himself to be a lucky guy. It was the second year in a row that he’d been invited to a birthday party at the Cutter home. Mr. Cutter was Bob’s boss, and it was always good to be close to the boss. 

At the party’s apex, the guests began gathering around the large dining room table in anticipation of singing the birthday song to the Cutter’s five year old son. But just before the singing commenced, Mr. Cutter tugged Bob away from the table and the other guests. “Oh Bob,” said Mr. Cutter, “I remember you telling me all about the exploits of your college band. What were you called again?”

“Yes sir, we were ‘Rockin’ Bob and the Bestie Boys.’ Those were the days all right. My gosh those days…”

“Of course,” said Mr. Cutter, “of course. Rockin’ Bob and the Bestie Boys. Well, Rockin’ Bob, I don’t mean to insult you because I know you were in a band, a real band. But the thing is, this year we’d rather you didn’t sing the Happy Birthday song along with the rest of us. Is that okay with you, Bob? Are you horribly insulted?”

“Certainly, Mr. Cutter, I won’t sing. It’s not a problem. But I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“See Bob, the thing is, Mrs. Cutter is very particular about the Happy Birthday song. She -- well, we really -- thought your voice sounded a bit off at last year’s party. It just didn’t blend in as well as we’d hoped. Although we like you, Bob, as a person, we just don’t appreciate your singing ability. Is that just an awful thing to say to somebody?”

“But sir, the child is only five years old. Do you think it really matters?”

“It matters to us, Bob. It certainly matters to us.”

Mrs. Cutter tapped on the side of her glass with a spoon and made an announcement to the gathered revelers. “Before we begin to sing to young Chauncey, could we have all the non-singers retreat into the kitchen. Once again, all the non-singers please retreat to the kitchen. Thank you!”

Bob made his way into the spacious kitchen. He was joined by two others. They were children, a boy and a girl. “So you can’t sing either,” he said to the girl. 

“It’s not fair,” she said. “I practiced months for this.”

“You practiced singing Happy Birthday just for this party?” Bob inquired. “Are you kidding me?” 

“Mother said to me, ‘Arabella, if you practice every day, Mrs. Cutter will let you sing.’ So I practice my guts out, sing a few bars for the lady, and I get banished to the kitchen. What gives?”

“So what’s your story?” Bob asked of the little boy. “What’s your name?”

“Stokley,” the boy replied.

“So how’d you end up in the kitchen, Stokley?”

“You don’t understand,” mumbled Stokley. “I coulda’ had class, I coulda’ been a contender. I could have been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am.”

Bob angered. “Listen to me, Stokley, you are not a bum, understand? You are not a bum. Hey, wait a second, were you just doing Marlon Brando from On the Waterfront?”

“So what if I was?”

“Nothing,” said Bob, “nothing. It’s just that you’re, like, two years old. How do you know Brando?”

“I’m not two, I’m ten!” answered Stokley. “And I’m more into drama than voice. That’s why I’m not that put out.”

“Still.”

The three non-singers listened grumpily as the others belted out Happy Birthday. “We should just leave,” said Bob to Arabella and Stokley. “I’m so insulted. This is mortifying.”

“I’m not leaving,” said Stokley. “Mrs. Cutter said we can still have cake and ice cream even though we weren’t allowed to sing. Don’t you want cake and ice cream?”

“I don’t care about cake and ice cream,” replied Bob, fuming.

“Well that’s a bad attitude,” said Stokley.

“What about you Arabella?” asked Bob. “Aren’t you at least miffed.”

“Indeed I am miffed,” she said. “But I can’t leave without mother -- and she’s still out there singing. But I won‘t let this break me. I still have a long career ahead of me.”

“Jeez, these people,” said Bob.

So Bob stayed on for cake and ice cream and decided to storm out right after that. But everybody else left after cake and ice cream so it wasn’t much of a protest. He walked home. 

Once inside his tiny apartment, Bob roused his bulldog, Robert, from a deep slumber. “Hey Robert, tell you what, I’ll give you a cookie if you let me sing Happy Birthday to you. How about that?”

Robert wondered if it was indeed his birthday. 

“I know it’s not your birthday, buddy,” said Bob, “but I’ve just got to sing to somebody.”

When is my birthday anyway, Robert thought as Bob broke into the song. If I start howling and moaning will he be insulted? I’ll just hold my tongue and hope he soon stops. 

After Bob finished singing, he regarded Robert. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Well…

“Or did you just stay for the cookie?”

Well…

Robert thought about it after devouring the cookie. Hey, Bob, that was no night at the opera to be sure. That said, I’ve heard worse. You should hear that terrier down the hall. I mean what a yap on that little beast.

Bob cheered up as he gazed upon Robert’s crumb-encrusted mug. “Happy birthday, my best buddy and bestest friend, happy birthday to you…”

The end.

Back in The Greenbelt, by unpopular demand.. it's Andy the Petulant Squirrel!

bonus baby pic

This week's Greenbelt takes a look at Pluto. Once a planet and now, who knows? Anyway, Pluto's sick of it all.

The 14er

Bonus baby picture!