Near The Notch, the narrow valley between Carbon Hill and Old Baldy formed by the receding Carbon Glacier, Polish immigrants settled most of the homesteads.  Many of these immigrants found work in the coal mines. Two such homesteads remain, one known as The Carbon River Ranch and the other known as Huckle-Chuck.

          At the peak of the coal boom, around 1900, the settlements supplied the towns down the valley with fresh milk and eggs. These industrious people worked from dawn to dusk to keep up with the demand, often leaving children to their own devices.

          Their children played in the surrounding woods and open meadows. They explored, acted out adventures, built forts, and joined in games of hide ‘n seek. Because the area was rural, hilly, and forested, people sometimes became lost. At times, even hunters who knew the woods turned up missing.

          In order to keep their children from wandering too far from home, the homesteaders made up a story about a creature called Old Ned. This volcanic region often experienced small earthquakes.  Some said Old Ned caused the tremors as he worked his way up from the earth. Many told their children that if they lost their way and got caught in the woods after dark, Old Ned would snatch them away, carry them off to his black den, and chew the meat off their bones. In fact, many children could be heard reciting a poem of unknown origin.

Stay out of the woods after dark

Where the light of the day leaves no mark.

When nighttime comes, and it’s time for bed,

If you’re caught outside, look out for Old Ned.

Designed to keep children from wandering off, one could always find the reckless few. They failed to heed the story’s lesson, ventured into The Notch after twilight, tempted fate, and disappeared without a trace.

          Because of being an only child, I got to claim a bedroom for my own. Although the only window faced north and never gathered a ray of direct sunlight, the whole space belonged to me. I brought the stuff I wanted to keep from our rental in the Bay Area, like my Willie McCovey poster. To me, he was Mr. Giant. To decorate my new room, I picked out a cool Amityville Horror poster for my new room – the one with the barnlike house and windows like sinister eyes. “For God’s Sake, Get Out!” it said at the bottom in bold letters. It kind of fit my mood when we first moved to Carbonado.

          I also tacked up Jason’s sketches of the Four Misfits – me, Charlie, Brian, and Jason. Jason's self-portrait never really did him justice; he was better looking in real life. Mine and Charlie’s were pretty good likenesses, but Brian’s appeared even better than normal. I think Jason wanted to help Brian out, make him feel better about the way he looked.

          The four of us fit together like misshapen peas in a pod. We even tagged ourselves "the misfits" as a badge of honor, setting apart from the other kids. Our classmates probably saw us that way, too. Being the new kid, I was an automatic misfit. Charlie didn’t blend in with the rest of her peers; she acted too independent and didn’t back down to guys. Jason was the quiet, artist type who didn’t like athletic pursuits. And Brian? Well, let’s face it, Brian was a geek. His own shadow scared him. Besides, his black, horned rim glasses, dress shirt, and chinos, not to mention his surplus baby fat, made him an easy target for the athlete types and hood wannabes. But, as a foursome, we found ourselves watching each other’s backs. After hooking up with those three, my grim outlook about Carbonado began to change about three weeks into school.

          I think my mom recognized my attitude adjustment, even before me.

          One evening, I emerged from my room to scrounge for a snack in the kitchen when she ambushed me. “Nathan,” she began, “your dad and I are beginning to believe that school must be agreeing with you.”

          “What do you mean, Mom?” I rose to the bait, wondering what had clued her in.

          “Well, something good must be happening. You actually get out on your bike once in a while, instead of shutting yourself in that cave of a room. I don’t even have to tell you twice to set the table for dinner. You got some new friends?” She looked at me with quizzical eyes and a half smile while putting away the dishes.

          I liked the new gang I hung out with, but getting all poetic about friends and budding relationships wasn’t my thing. Deciding how much information I wanted to tell her, I pieced together my explanation. “Yeah, there’s Brian, Jason, and Charlie.”

          “What, no girls?” she probed, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her eye.

          Ooops! Well, she’ll find out sooner or later. “Charlie’s a girl," I remarked, trying to sound matter-of-fact.

          “Nathan, Charlie’s not a girl’s name.”

          “Well, Charlotte’s her real name. She’s Doctor Kowalski's daughter.”

          “Why in the world does she call herself Charlie?”

          I swear, my mom was behaving like a dog chewing a bone. “It’s because of her family, I think. Her older sister likes to do all those girl things like model clothes and take dancing lessons. Charlie’s mom tried to force her to do the same type of stuff. Charlie wouldn’t have none of it.”

          “She wouldn’t have any of it,” Mom corrected. Then, she whirled and froze me with her stare. “Well, fourteen is a little too young to get serious about girls, Nathan.”

          “Mom!” I bellowed. “Charlie may be girl, but she acts just like one of us guys.” Mom just grinned during the clatter of putting away the dishes.

          When I think about it now, Mom was really good. She probably could have been an investigator for the FBI or CIA. She had just given me the third degree without me suspecting a thing. On the other hand, it didn't occur to me that my mom might have noticed the sketch of the four of us in my bedroom.

        For more than three weeks since the beginning of May, the four of us kids worked on a self-improvement plan for Brian. Charlie gave our routine the code name “Project Bear.” The whole idea came about near the end of April as we sat around our school cafeteria table. Brian, munching away on his second sandwich and sipping his Coke, turned to us with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled forehead as if chewing over something real important, and asked, “Do you guys think I’m fat?”

          I nearly choked on a piece of raw carrot, but Charlie, as usual, seized control of the situation. Looking Brian straight in the eyes, she knit her brows together to make herself look older and wiser. “Why are you asking, Brian?” She sounded just like a psychologist.

          He put down his can of soda and lowered his eyes in the direction of his half-eaten sandwich. “Well, all of you are my friends, right?” We nodded. “Friends tell the truth to each other, right?"

          “Well, of course, we’re all friends, Brian.” Charlie spoke real soft, yet firm – in complete control. I admired Charlie’s tact, sensing that she was playing the situation just right. Jason and I just nodded like we were one person.

          “Sometimes other kids snort when I walk past, and Reno won’t stop calling me Piggy.”

          Charlie continued without missing a beat. “First of all, Reno’s a screw off. Aside from that, my friend, you aren’t the smallest guy in the world. My father, the doctor, uses the expression “big boned”, and I think that description fits you. Although you’re bigger than the rest of us now, if you start doing the right things, you'll grow into your bones.”

          “Besides,” I said, starting to catch the drift of the conversation, “I don’t think you look a bit like a pig. To me, you’re more of a . . . a bear.”

          “Yeah,” chimed in Jason. “I think ‘Bear’ is a great nickname.”

          “It works for me.” Charlie pounced upon the idea.

          “Brian ‘The Bear’ Erdman.” Brian whispered the words slow and one at a time. He paused, stared into space, and lit up in a huge grin. “Hey, I like that. It sounds kinda cool.”

          “But there’s one problem with the name,” Charlie countered. “You remind me of a bear getting ready to hibernate. You know, after they eat all those berries, roots, and stuff. Not the lean, mean bear that crawls out of its cave in the spring.”

          “Yeah, to keep that name you’re gonna have to work on some things.” Jason kept Charlie’s train of thought moving on the right track.

          “What d'ya mean?” puzzled Brian.

          I jumped in. “Well, first of all, you’re going to have to change some of your eating habits.” We all looked at his lunch sack nearly packed to the top – two sandwiches, a Hostess Snowball, an apple, and a can of Coke.

          “C’mon, you guys. You know my mom would kill me if I ditched any of the food she packs. She says I gotta keep up my strength.”

          When Brian mentioned his mom, he hit the problem nail right on the head. Mrs. Erdman ran the Curlz for Girlz Beauty Salon in old, downtown Carbonado right out of their house. A short lady to begin with, Charlie told me she had packed on the pounds when Brian’s father ran off with another woman. Now, she was almost as wide as she was tall. Ever since her husband left, she had tied Brian to her apron strings. She believed in the old saying: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So she filled Brian’s stomach with comfort food. And plenty of it.

          “Who said anything about ditching food?” Charlie beamed with the brilliance of her simple idea. “The solution is right here before your eyes.”

          “I don’t understand.” Brian scratched his head and looked us each in the eye.

          “The answer is simple, and you're looking at it -- U-S . . . us,” answered Charlie.

          “What d'ya mean ‘us’?” said a still confused Brian.

          “It’s simple. Share your lunch with us, your friends. You wouldn’t be throwing away any food. And you could help Jason, Nathan, and me ‘keep up our strength’, too. Hey, you could start right now by cutting that Hostess Snowball into four pieces.”

          With his fist on his jaw, Brian thought about it. “I guess you’re right, Charlie. How about it, guys? Do you wanna start sharing my lunch?”

          “Sure,” we all said together. Charlie’s idea was inspired, but it proved to be just the beginning. We kicked “Project Bear” into high gear when we got Brian to agree to an exercise program.

          “Exercise? You mean I gotta exercise too? You know I hate gym class.” He rolled his eyes with disbelief.

          “Hey, buddy, you know bears don’t hibernate forever.” Really into the scheme and excited, I started to explain my plans. “They travel all over the place foraging. They even do heavy labor – like ripping up stumps. Bears can even climb trees. Now, that’s pretty athletic.”

          “What d’ya have in mind, Nathan?” Brian asked.

          “How about setting a goal like climbing to the top of Heap Hill?” I suggested.

          “No way! There’s just no way I could do that. Might as well give up right now.” Brian shook his head, lowered his eyes, and crossed his arms on the table.

          Jason came to the rescue. “You’re right.  There’s no way if you tried to do it today. But . . . but if you worked up to it, do things bit by bit, after a while I bet you could make it to the top. And -- and we’ll even do it with you.” I didn’t expect Jason to volunteer all of us. But, under those terms, Brian accepted the challenge, and we all shook hands.

          Phase Two of Project Bear turned out to be much more difficult than Phase One. Sharing lunch was easy, but just getting our friend to wrap his mind around the idea of climbing the old slag pile when his body wasn’t ready just about ended the project. Three or four days a week, rain or shine, we dragged Brian a half-mile to the base of Heap Hill on the east end of town.

          Standing at the bottom, the hill looked impressive – even intimidating. I exercised a lot in California. Dad and I often hiked the coast trails, and I played basketball and baseball. But, three hundred and fifty feet of man made rubble looked intimidating. The coal mine waste, deposited over seventy years, rose at a steep angle with red alder, vine maple, snow berry bushes and others dotting its slopes.