Mabel and Margaret are two little girls. They live in Egypt. It is about 3,500 years ago. They and their parents have a little house near the Nile River. They do not have a brother, yet.
One day, Mabel and Margaret are throwing little rocks at a big rock. It is hot and dry.
* * *
“We gotta get out of this place,” Mabel says tossing a stone.
“You got it there,” Margaret echos. She pings another little rock off another big rock and starts singing,
“Yeah yeah yeah yeah
We gotta get out of this place
If it’s the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
‘Cause girl, there’s a better life
For me and you.”
“Wow, Marg, that’s good, really good. I think you just invented rock music. I mean, it’s cool.”
“I wish it were, out here. Heh, Mabe, let’s go down to the river and dip our feet. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find something.”
* * *
“What’s that? In the river, over there, Marg. See it, a basket floating this way?”
“Let’s go.” Margaret wades into the shallow water, her sister following.
“Careful,” Mabel says, “something’s moving under the blanket.”
“I’m pulling the cover back,” and Margaret does just that.
“It’s a baby boy,” the sisters chime together.
“Let’s call him ‘Moses.’” Margaret is thinking and talking. “It’s an ‘M’ word, like us, and it’s got two ‘S’s,’ for sisters, like us. And, we found him, so we get to name him.”
“I like the name.” Mabel looks around. “Let’s take him to Mom before anyone sees us. Besides, I’m hungry.”
At that, the baby cries.
“Him too!!” they laugh together and hurry off, over the hill.
* * *
“What you scratching on that rock, Margaret?”
Little Moses is sitting and watching.
“Words, Mabel, words.”
“What ya’ doing that for?”
“Teaching Baby Moses his words.”
“Which words, Marg.”
“Important ones.”
Mabel looks over her sister’s shoulder. “I see the first letters, Margaret. They’re really big. I like how you did that.” She reads: “G I S S, P A M, S L C.” Margaret counts on her fingers. “Ten, that’s ten. Ten big words.” She looks closer. “What are the words?”
“God, Idols, Swearing, Sabbath,” Margaret speaks slowly and precisely, looking at the baby, who is listening intently, “Parents, Adultery, Murder,” she pauses, “Stealing, Lying, Coveting.”
Baby Moses nods his head.
* * *
“Land of Goshen,” their Mom yells with a laugh, as the children race through the house and out the door, “if you don’t slow down, you three will drive me the Promised Land.”
And, they did.
But, that’s another story.
* * *
The two girls and young Moses sit in the sand throwing little rocks at a big rock.
“I don’t like my last name,” Margaret says with a frown.
“What’s wrong with ‘Gump’?” Mabel asks.
“It’s kinda’ lumpy.” Margaret pings the big rock.
“People never remember last names,” Little Moses smiles at his older sister.
“Where’d you learn that, Smartie Pants?” Margaret playfully reaches over and pushes her young brother.
“Don’t know. I just know . . . things.” There is thoughtful, far-away look in Moses’ eyes.
“He does,” Mabel turns her head and watches her brother.
“And, what do you know about lumpy names, Little Brother?” Margaret asks.
Moses picks up a rock and answers without turning his head. “Lumpy is good. The lumpy candies down at the market are good, and the man who runs the booth – he’s kind. He lets us pick one from the tray of all the different treats. Life is like that, like a tray of candies. You never know what you’re gonna’ get, but they’re all good.”
The little boy tosses the rock and hits the big stone. He picks another, aims and strikes the rock hard.
“Good aim, Mighty Mite!” Mabel giggles. “But did you have to smack it twice.”
“Give me ‘Five.’” Margaret reaches over with one hand up, open and wide. “Slap my hand with yours, right there,” she instructs.
Moses does and grins at the sound of the “Slap!”
“What do you call that one, Big Sister?” he asks.
“The ‘High Five.’ I just invented it.”
“You’re a true ‘Gump,’” he adds.
“Thanks, Little Brother. You are too, even though no one is going to remember your last name. Who knows? Maybe a Gump will be in the movies one day and we’ll all be famous.”
“What’s ‘the movies?’” Mabel asks.
“Don’t know,” Margaret answers, “I just made up the word.”
Little Moses smiles in thought and carefully sets the stone in his hand down on the ground.
* * *
It is good to remember the little people.
They are often the ones that cause things to happen.
What is in a name? A Moses by any other name may be a Gump. Right?
Who can say if it is so, or not so – wouldn’t you say?
Bet you can’t hit that big rock?
Your toss,
Grandpa Jim