Lance Sanderson, Fourth Grader

By Joe Johnson

It is the early 1980s and Lance Sanderson is beginning fourth grade in Granger, Washington. Compared to his old home near Seattle, Granger is a strange place of farms, desert, and baptists. But after two years, Lance is no longer the new boy. He has friends, a church, and favorite places. But now Granger has another new kid, a boy named Simon. A

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simul Books
• Release date: Mar 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736590362

Joe Johnson

Joe brings a fresh and at times humorous look at the growth of Christian faith. Serious issues are met with a breath of levity and joy that help the reader engage in a conversation throughout the text. His style and voice leap from the page and bring life to a book about faith, struggles and doubt. The reader is left wanting more.

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Lance

Sanderson

Fourth

Grader

Joe Johnson

LANCE SANDERSON, FOURTH GRADER.

Copyright © 2023 by Joseph John-Paul Johnson.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations or passages for critical review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Electronic Edition, 2023

ISBN 978-1-7365903-6-2

Simul Books

3710 SW Idaho Terrace

Portland, OR 97221

www.simulbooks.com

www.joejohnsonwrites.com

Portland, Ore

For Granger and My Family

Editor’s Note

The following stories and notes were discovered in a copy-paper box on an attic shelf in a rental house in the central Washington town of Granger. They are authored by a boy who calls himself Lance Sanderson, though neither this editor nor publisher nor several interns have been able to positively identify Lance with a historical person. Why a boy would consciously write these stories under an assumed name remains as much a mystery as why the person we believe to be the historical Lance Sanderson refuses to acknowledge them.

To that note, we have one virtually undeniable candidate for whom Lance is and have contacted this Lance, his family, and some of the people referenced in this book—nearly all of whom confirm that our suspected Lance is the Lance of these documents.

However, given our inability to properly connect these texts to any individual, and after many attempts to do so, we have proceeded to gather, edit, and publish these notes as a matter of local historical significance to a region of the United States that otherwise has little literary representation. Our probable Lance has even signed a document stating that he is not the author of these notes and has no legal claim to them.

Even with that peculiar origin, the story of Lance Sanderson remains worth publishing. As the opening note makes clear, Lance Sanderson is a boy, probably nine years old, entering fourth grade in the small, agrarian town of Granger, Washington, nearly three hours’ drive from Seattle (or Auburn, where Lance claims his family left at the start of his second-grade year).

Although none of these entries are dated, they are likely ascribable to the school year of 1980–1981 or 1981–1982. Because the notes have neither dates nor page numbers and were found in an attic box in which they were loosely packed and intermingled, there is no way of knowing the precise order in which they were written. And, as noted above, our suspected Lance denies authorship and has rejected all invitations to participate in this publishing project. As such, we have typeset the notes, provided minimal editing, and assembled the writings as they likely correspond to a single school year. The chapter titles are inventions of this editorial team. All other content comes directly from the hand of Lance Sanderson.

Of this content, we should add one last note, without which we would be liable of some negligence. Specifically, there remains the issue of Lance’s language and perspectives as they belong to a time and place that are not necessarily reflective of many contemporary advances and understandings of race, ethnicity, gender, and religion.

We contemplated adjusting these items but recognized that in correcting for rough and sometimes uncomfortable language, we were likely both to introduce anachronisms and to undermine the historical value of the document itself, as coarse as it sometimes is. As such, we recognize that many contemporary libraries and librarians may have reservations about presenting these writings to younger and more impressionable readers.

The Editors (Seattle, Washington).

.

One: Coming to Granger

My name is Lance Sanderson, and I am the oldest of four kids, which means I will never get my own room. I share with my brother Gunner, who grinds his teeth in his sleep. The sound is awful, like gravel in my ear. One night I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I covered Gunner’s face with a pillow, but he started screaming. My Mom and Dad ran into the room. I tried to explain, but they didn’t seem to understand how horrible it sounded. It was like grinding marbles. I said I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but they thought my behavior was inappropriate and dangerous. Now, whenever Gunner grinds his teeth, I grab my pillow and go into the living room. It’s not so bad in the winter because I sleep over the heater grate on the floor.

Two years ago, we moved to a town called Granger in the middle of Washington State. Most people think Washington is green and rainy, but Granger is like a desert. They could make cowboy movies here. My parents said Granger would be a real desert if not for the Yakima River and the canals the farmers made. The irrigation helps grow cherries, apples, asparagus, peaches, and pears. A town called Toppenish, which is only six miles from Granger, was in the Guinness Book of World Records for the largest production of hops in the world. When I asked my Mom what hops tasted like, she said she didn’t know but they are used to make beer.

I’ve never had beer and probably never will. But Gunner got into the fridge once and found a beer my Dad didn’t finish. Dad hardly ever finishes a whole beer. Gunner drank it and then started acting crazy, like Bugs Bunny or one of those Saturday cartoons. My sister Angela and I played with him, laughing the whole time, but my parents stopped us. They said not to encourage him and to go to our rooms or outside. I don’t think Gunner was ever that fun again. Maybe that is why my parents were so upset.

Granger is different from where we used to live on the green side of the state. All my friends were white like me and had names like Jason and John. I have white friends here but there are more Mexicans with names like Pedro and Enrique.

One of my best friends is named Jesus. I was confused at first because I saw how his name was spelled, and it looked the same as the Jesus people at church talked about, who was the Son of God and did miracles. Church sings a song called What a Friend We Have in Jesus. I really have a friend named that. But my Jesus said his name was Spanish and sounded like Hey-Zeus.

I have another new friend named Nathaniel. Nathaniel lives with his Mom, who’s a teacher like my Dad. I remember meeting Nathaniel when I first moved here because he had a Space Invaders game. He moved away for a year and then came back. When he returned, he moved into the old brick house my family rented when we first moved to town.

Granger is small. Where I used to live in Auburn, we had to drive everywhere, and the houses looked the same. In Granger the houses were built alike, but many are run down. My Mom takes care of our house and plants a huge garden every year. It has peas and sunflowers and raspberries, and many things I won’t eat. I wish I liked vegetables since she goes through all the trouble of growing them.

The front yard is full of flowers and small trees. Our house is one of the best looking on the block. We have neighbors two houses down who are white, but Mexicans live in most of the other houses. One house on our block is the same size as our house, but twenty-one people live there. I hope none of them grind their teeth because the good sleeping spots are probably already being used.

We can walk anywhere we want from our house, though there are not many places to go. Downtown Granger is ten blocks away. Two blocks away is a big cornfield. My school is about a mile, and my Dad’s is a little closer. Gunner, Angela, and I like to ride our bikes to the store in the summer. My youngest sister, Janelle, is still too young to ride a bike. Ever since she learned to walk, her favorite thing to do is strip her clothes off and run away from my Mom into the front yard. That might be part of the reason Mom put up so many flower bushes. If one of us forgets to close the front door, Janelle runs outside completely naked.

I like school and don’t understand why so many of my friends don’t. Angela only likes school because her friends are there, and Gunner likes it because of sports. He thinks he will play professional basketball when he gets older.

Two: Adults have to do hard things

Sports are a big part of our lives, whether we want them to be or not. My Dad is a good athlete and wakes up early every morning to exercise. Of all the teachers and coaches at the high school my Dad is the strongest, even though he’s not the tallest. He coaches football, basketball, and baseball. Baseball is his favorite, and the best part is watching him throw batting practice. He can throw so hard that none of the high school boys can hit. I think he could probably play for the Seattle Mariners if he was given a chance. If they saw how fast he threw, they would hire him. The Mariners could use some good pitching.

My Dad took me and Gunner to a Mariners game during the summer and even though I don’t normally like baseball on television, it’s fun at the Kingdome. Dad and Gunner were rooting for Seattle, but I liked stories from church, so I rooted for the Angels. Doug DeCinses hit three home runs in that game and the California Angels beat the Mariners. It was a good day to be an Angel.

I don’t know if California would have won if my Dad pitched. I asked Mom why Dad didn’t tryout or why he never played professional sports. He was too short for basketball or football, but in baseball that is not as important.

My Mom didn’t say much, but she told me that Dad never thought he was good enough when it counted. When your Dad was your age, he loved sports, she said. But he always moved because Grandpa was in the Air Force. One year he lived in Tennessee. One year he lived in Florida. He even lived in Japan for a while.

My Mom asked me to guess where Dad graduated high school. I said Seattle, but she told me it was Germany. The only thing I knew about Germany was that Hitler started World War II.

My Mom said it’s hard to build a reputation when you move all the time and tough to get a coach to know you well enough to play in big games. She said that she and Dad bought our house and wanted to stay in Granger until we finished school so we could become part of something that lasted. She said it would be the chance that Dad never had.

Mom said Grandpa and Grandma Sanderson never watched Dad play sports. He turned out for every team, but they never came to his games. Mom thought that had as much to do with Dad not becoming a Mariner as moving around in the Air Force.

I think she told me that because I’m always mad about how Dad spends so much time with Gunner. I don’t like sports, but Gunner does, so Dad takes him everywhere. He’s always at the high school