Thankful For The Little Things
Jonathan Power realizes that it's the little things in life that make it worth living. Takes place 100 years after the war.
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Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction based on the television series,Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. It is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of Landmark Entertainment Corporation or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. I don't own the characters. However, I am putting them into an adventure since the show was cancelled and the writers/producers/directors/actors can’t put them into any new adventures.
Author’s Notes: This snippet of a story was just a small wisp of an idea inspired by Thanksgiving
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Be sure that you appreciate everything you’ve got,
And be thankful for the little things; in life they mean a lot.
Anonymous
Jon woke an hour before sunrise. It wasn’t a strange occurrence or anything new. Years of early rising got him into a habit he could never quite break even decades after he had retired from public service.
Sore muscles ached as he pulled himself carefully from his warm bed. He moved slowly so he wouldn’t wake his sleeping wife. They had a busy day ahead of them, both publicly and privately, and Jennifer had been up late the night before talking to one of their great-granddaughters. There was no reason she shouldn’t get a little more sleep. He quietly walked out of their bedroom and into the hallway. Pictures of their extended family graced the walls. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great… he had better stop or he would start to really feel his age.
“Lights,” he said lowly. The automated bulbs came on slowly much to his relief. His eyesight wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, and sudden changes in light often gave him headaches. Jennifer had changed the settings on the bulb fixtures years ago to a slow glow to help solve that problem.
Jon passed a mirror on the wall and gave it only a cursory glance. His reflection wasn’t one of a tall, strong, dark-haired soldier anymore. No, it had changed somewhat over the years. Wrinkles cut into his face, white thinning hair now donned his head. His gait wasn’t long or quick, but he got around pretty well without any assistance. His hands were still steady, but the joints ached when it rained. He had aged, but he didn’t lament his lost youth. He had lived an extraordinary life filled with adventure and excitement – but he did miss some of the physical characteristics he used to enjoy. The bad part about getting older was what the aging process did to the body.
He walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot. It still amazed him – coffee pots were centuries old and the human race still hadn’t invented a better way to brew coffee. Maybe trying to build a better coffee pot followed the same logic of trying to build a better mousetrap? Coffee was poured in a filter; hot water flowed through it and was collected in a carafe. Simple, right? Well, it worked. Why mess with perfection?
He then turned to a small cabinet and opened the door. Ah, the anniversary gift he had bought for Jennifer was still there. It was wrapped in red wrapping paper with a silver bow. However, sitting beside it was another small box wrapped in blue wrapping paper and a yellow bow. On it was the note ‘Happy Anniversary, Love.’ She had found his hiding place. She never ceased to amaze him. He took down both presents and placed his in front of his chair and hers in front of her chair. They could open their gifts when they had their anniversary dinner that night.
As he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, he switched on the vidscreen to hear the morning news. That day was special for the planet, and he and his wife had been assigned to a part of the festivities. The news would be filled with repeated reports of the day’s activities. Again, something as simple as hearing the news early in the morning was not to be taken for granted. During the war, news came over ham radios and stolen radios. Now, it was readily available. Newscasts, news reports, individual messages sent over computers – information was once again free and free-flowing. The war was mostly forgotten, as were the severe conditions people survived. Several generations had already come and gone with no idea of how bad the war truly was. They had no idea how something as simple and overabundant as news was once considered a precious commodity.
“… In medical news today, recent reports from the surgeon general indicate that the average life span of North American females is 140 years while the North American male average life span is lower at 130 years. This increase in average years from the centuries previous to ours is attributed to the aftereffects of the Machine Wars…”
The average life span was now 130 years for males? An average was the middle number. There were people who lived longer, and there were those who never saw that number. Jon was 131 years old. He had beaten the average. His doctor had told him that he was in great condition and could easily expect to live another twenty years barring any accidents. He read once that when a person was young, they counted their years from birth. As they age, they begin to count the dwindling years to their end. He’d never expected to live as long as he had, but he was grateful for every moment. He’d had an extraordinary life, but in all that excitement he had lived through, despite all the danger, it had to have been sheer luck that he survived and that he had everything he did. He never wanted to analyze or dissect his life. He didn’t want to look too closely out of the fear that it would all disappear in a wisp of smoke.
The coffee pot finished brewing his coffee and he poured himself a cup. For centuries, this drink had been the lifeblood of millions. His doctor had told him to cut down on caffeine, so he only had one cup in the morning. His doctor had learned through several years of friendship that it wouldn’t do any good to argue. He was going to drink his one cup of coffee. That was one point on which he wouldn’t budge. The dark liquid poured slowly into his cup, and he smelled the enticing aroma wafting through the air. During the war, coffee was non-existent just like so many other things. They were always grateful when they could find even a cup. Sometimes, it was in the Passages. Sometimes, villagers would give them some coffee as a thank you for risking everything to save them. Then, once they had coffee, they would only brew a little, just enough for everyone to have a few sips. Coffee was a rare treat that they made last as long as they could. Now, it was as plentiful as air.
“…and now back to the top story of the day. Today is the 100th anniversary of the defeat of Lord Dread and the Machine Empire. Celebrations are scheduled all over the planet, and some are currently underway in Europe and Asia. Here at our nation’s capital, a massive group of survivors and soldiers who fought in the war is already starting to gather on the Main Plaza. Some descendents of individuals who fought in resistance groups during the war are representing their families. All are eager to see and hear the remaining members of the Power Team who are scheduled to make a rare appearance. The president is going to present a special award to the Power Team for their actions in stopping Lord Dread and ending the Machine Empire...”
They hadn’t acted alone. They were one five-member team among thousands of resistance fighters. Now, with Hawk and Tank gone, only he, Jennifer and Scout were left. Hawk had died almost thirty years earlier. He didn’t quite make the “average” age of 130. He’d had a bout of a short but serious illness a few months before his death. It weakened his heart, and he died quietly in his sleep. He was still missed. Tank died about ten years after Hawk. His bio-engineered health was excellent, but even good health and added strength couldn’t save him from a transport crash. The destruction had been massive. There had been nothing left to bury, so they held a memorial for the man sometimes referred to in the press as a gentle giant.
He took a sip of his coffee, and then he felt a small hand touch his shoulder. He looked up into Jennifer’s bright gray eyes. White hair replaced her golden tresses years ago, but the smile was every bit as genuine and her wit was every bit as sharp. Maybe the bad part of growing older was the aging process, but the best part about growing older was that he had grown older with her. They had shared a life he cherished beyond measure. Now, even decades after they were married, the sight of her still made his heart skip a beat.
He picked up his present and smiled at her. “You found a good hiding place.”
“I couldn’t think of a better place to hide yours than right beside mine,” she laughingly assured him.
Years together had developed some routines in their lives. For instance, every morning, they sat in the kitchen, drank their coffee, and watched the morning news with their own running commentaries before they started their day. It was their time together; time they did not miss. With a smile, he poured her a cup of coffee as she increased the volume on the vidscreen.
“…General Robert ‘Scout’ Baker has been in attendance with the Joint Chiefs for the last several days to help address the increasing concerns of the growing threat of a resurgence of a robot cult in some areas of the planet. His military expertise as well as his tactical knowledge of mechanized beings has proven invaluable in the discussions. However, their session will be suspended for today’s festivities and will resume next week…”
“Another robot cult,” Jennifer shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “That’s the last thing we need.”
“I don’t think we’ll be fighting this time if it comes to a war,” Jon mentioned. “We retired about fifty years ago.”
She held her coffee cup tightly in her hands, warming them. “You never know,” she laughed. “They might need advisers.”
“… The local police force will be here to ensure security for all the visiting dignitaries and political officials, but we have unconfirmed reports that Dread Deniers are planning to demonstrate nearby. Dread Deniers are a small group of individuals who deny that Dread was trying to destroy humanity, that people were digitized and millions were murdered. Lately, their numbers have been growing in spite of all the irrefutable evidence to the contrary…”
“Unbelievable,” he said. “We fought, many of us died –”
“Some of us were digitized,” she reminded him.
“And they want to say it never happened.”
She shook her head. “They want to rewrite history. That’s unforgiveable. Dread tried to erase history. You’d think people would have learned by now.”
“…Perhaps the biggest announcement is that various governmental bodies all over the planet have agreed to turn this day, the anniversary of the day the resistance won their victory over the Dread Empire, into a global day of Thanksgiving. Several countries have had a Thanksgiving holiday in the past, but until now, there hasn’t been one such holiday celebrated on a global scale…”
“Everyone had a lot to be thankful for,” Jennifer mentioned as he reached out and took her hand. “Remember when Volcania was destroyed? I think the party lasted a full week.”
“We had to go to several of those parties,” he added. “I think the one at the Passages was the rowdiest.”
“… On a note of personal interest, the destruction of Volcania happened on Captain Power and Corporal Chase’s second wedding anniversary. At the time, their marriage was unknown to individuals outside the Power Team given Dread’s targeting of the five of them. The fact that they were married and both had willing joined that risky mission was learned a few weeks following the victory. At the time, the story placed their decision to risk everything in an even more self-sacrificing light. Today, the couple will celebrate their 102nd wedding anniversary. In view of that, the Thanksgiving committee has brought their entire extended family to today’s celebration. The most recent addition to their family is a great-great-great grandchild born two days ago –”
Jennifer decreased the volume. “When they talk about our latest granddaughter, I start to feel my age.”
Jon leaned over and said with a smile, “You don’t look your age. You’re still young and beautiful.”
“That’s what I love about you. You are still a flatterer. And biased,” she laughingly joked.
“With good reason. Did you know they just announced that the average life of a male today is 130 years old, and the doctor said I could have another 20 years easily? I like the idea of spending the next 20 years with you. After all, we’ve been together for a century now.”
“Longer than that,” Jennifer corrected him with a smile. “102 years.”
“And now our anniversary will be celebrated by everybody on the planet.”
Jennifer laughed as she took another sip of coffee. “But what about the new Thanksgiving.”
“Same thing for me,” he explained quickly. “The day I married you, I found out I had a lot to be thankful for. Every day is like a Thanksgiving for me.”
“Flatterer,” she smiled at him as she turned the volume back up.
“…The ceremony will begin at the Main Plaza at 9:00 a.m. current time. We will be following the day’s events throughout…”
“All day,” Jon sighed. “You do realize we’ll have to be there at least through lunch. We will miss our anniversary dinner and won’t be able to open our presents tonight.”
Jennifer sat back and rubbed her hand. Sometimes, her joints ached in certain kinds of weather as well. “Maybe not. I found out last night that we’re supposed to have lunch at the Capitol.”
“We are?”
“Scout talked to the Capitol cook who happens to be a good friend of one of our great-granddaughters. He’s arranged for them to throw us a surprise anniversary party to coincide with the announcement of the new holiday.”
Jon leaned back and smiled. His wife never ceased to surprise him. Jennifer could find out information others would deem top secret. “Which great-granddaughter told you about the party?”
Jennifer tilted her head and gave him her amused ‘well, it was a secret’ look. “Hannah. She knows the Capitol’s cook because both their daughters are in the same class at school. They met at a parent-teacher conference. You know Hannah could never keep a secret for long.”
“Not with a great-grandmother who knows exactly how to get information out of someone without them knowing it,” he smirked.
“I learned from the best.”
“So what do you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear her plans.
“We fly there in the jump ship instead of the transport the Capitol is sending for us. Crowds love to see the old ship anyway. Then, after lunch, we fly back so we can get to our anniversary dinner on time tonight.”
Their anniversary dinner was a private affair. It always had been. When their children had been young, Hawk, Tank and Scout loved to babysit for a few hours so he and Jennifer had some time to themselves. Even after their children were grown and on their own, they still had private anniversary dinners. They would rent a private table at a small restaurant near their house. The family that owned the restaurant were old friends of the Powers and they made some very special dishes for them on that special night. It was something small, something simple, but it was a time for just the two of them. Having such a large family and being public figures, time alone was rare and Jon was grateful for those few moments when he had his wife to himself.
“Think the kids will understand?” he asked.
Jennifer just shook her head in amusement. “Our kids? After watching us all these years, hearing Hawk’s stories about what we used to do -- do you think they’d expect anything less? They already know how tricky we can be. I think they’d expect it. Especially if I fly the jump ship which I don’t get much of a chance to do anymore. They’ll figure out that we have other plans.”
Insightful, inventive and intuitive. That was his Jennifer. “That sounds like a brilliant idea,” he agreed.
Even on a busy day like the 100th anniversary of Dread’s defeat, they could still find time to be together on their 102nd anniversary -- something simple yet so important to them. He reflected on all the thoughts that had crossed his mind that morning. Of all the big things in life there were to be grateful for, it was the small everyday events that made his life so full and rich.
And for that, he was truly thankful.
The End
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