Starsky & Hutch Solstice Calendar 2020

Click here to read the first story- A Woman’s Work is Never Done

Click here to read the second story- If There Had Been Wise Women, They Would Have Brought Food–And Diapers

Click here to read the third story- Merger and Acquisition

It was the miracle she’d never expected to have in her lifetime, pregnant for the second time. When she’d mated—hopefully for life—with Linda, Minnie hadn’t given a thought to motherhood. Linda had, and over the course of their first year together, Linda managed to convince her that it was possible.

Their daughter Noel was living proof. She toddled across the floor dragging a basket of nearly bald dollies behind her. Why all her dolls were bald, Minnie had no idea, but it kept Noel busy while her mothers were at work.

Minnie rubbed her rounded belly, trying to sooth the baby swimming inside. The little one had been more restless than usual all morning. Combined with a crampy pain in her lower back, Minnie was really uncomfortable. But she’d done this before and knew that there were always odd pangs with pregnancy. Continue reading →

Author’s Note: Fun History Fact. The origin for Tie a Yellow Ribbon dates to the Civil War. A soldier returning from Andersonville prison to Pennsylvania on stagecoach had written his girl saying if she hadn’t married and still wanted him to tie a yellow kerchief on the ole oak tree at the stagecoach stop on the main road. Everyone on the stagecoach yelled their congratulations when they spotted the kerchief. The story was written in Readers Digest in 1970 and read by the songwriter, L. Russell Brown. It became a mega hit for Tony Orlando and Dawn in 1973.

Hutch POV

I’m comin’ home, I’ve done my time
Now I’ve got to know what is and isn’t mine
If you received my letter telling you I’d soon be free
Then you’ll know just what to do
If you still want me
If you still want me

Being released from prison is a surreal experience. It took weeks to adapt myself to prison life. To live for survival. A cop who looks like me sucked into the prison population. You can imagine I didn’t get much sleep.

It’s strange what you can adjust to. This morning I woke and found the same drab clothes from that devastating night three years ago piled on my bed and a bus waiting to take me to my designated address. I dressed and felt the lack of shackles like an aristocratic lady might feel naked without her jewelry. I was released from my three-year sentence for drug possession. I never once said it wasn’t a fair charge. The death sentence would have seemed fair to me at the time.

I betrayed Starsky. I deserved everything I got. Continue reading →

– for Mvernet

Hutch has lost all track of time. How long has he lain on this rocky hillside, pinned beneath his car? Stones dig into his back, dirt cakes his shirt sleeves. Has it been two days or is it three? Maybe even longer. His head aches. He has no idea how long he was unconscious before waking to his predicament.

He wonders if, after everything he’s been through in his relatively short life, he’ll die alone on this brush covered, forsaken hillside. Helpless beneath a hunk of twisted metal. He smells of sweat and blood and urine. An ignoble ending for someone who’d once been called a white knight. Hutch’s mirthless laugh bursts forth as sob and he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun.

Someone approaches singing a hymn. Colonel Sonny McPherson – a would-be savior in a faded khaki uniform. But Hutch quickly realizes Sonny is a man lost in time. While Hutch begs for help to ease the pressure on his leg, the Colonel dreams of glory and a war that has long since ended. He proudly declares Hutch a captured German spy and ambles away.

Sonny McPherson can’t help Hutch. The confused old man can’t even help himself.

Hutch’s throat is raw from calling for help. His lips are swollen and cracked from lack of water. His eyes burn from looking up into the sun. Still, Hutch prays for one more hour of daylight.

His leg no longer tortures him the way it had when he’d first awoken to his dire situation. In fact, it’s gone completely numb. Hutch tries not to think on what that means. He fights to hold his fears at bay. Even before his police training, he was good at staying calm in times of crisis. But he knows his options are dwindling. He is unable to pull himself free from beneath the crushed car frame. His shouts just echo back to him. His gun is out of reach. The police radio crackles and pops ineffectually.

What if he dies here? What if? The idea seeps into Hutch’s head the way cold wind enters a room, sneaking in through the smallest crack, no matter how hard Hutch tries to block it out. He’s not ready. There’s so much he still wants to do. He has yet to make peace with his father. He hasn’t given his mother the daughter-in-law and grandchildren he’s seen reflected in her eyes.

He tries to focus on the snake sunning itself on a rock ten feet away. An ant crawls across his pant leg. A bird flies overhead, a momentary shadow against the setting sun.

No longer able to stop it, Hutch’s mind wades through a swamp of missed opportunities. A hundred more regrets.

He thinks of Starsky. Where every best moment, every deepest disappointment, every challenge overcome, began and ended. Where is he now? What is he doing? Is he worried? Angry? Is he looking for him?

What will Hutch say to him if he gets another chance?

Hutch is out there somewhere and he’s still alive. Starsky can feel it deep in his bones. The way he can sense the honesty of a snitch or a loaded gun at his back. But for how long? It’s up to Starsky to find him. Today of all days, time is a precious commodity.

Starsky follows every lead no matter how tenuous as the clock ticks. He hears of a hitman hired to kill a cop and confronts the degenerate’s girlfriend, Carla, who turns tricks for money. Starsky pulls up a chair to face the battered woman. “Someone very very very important to me is missing.” He leans in, their knees almost touching, and speaks with the quiet intensity of an archangel. His very presence demands that Carla feel something other than numbness. That she remember what it was like to love and be loved in return.

And for just one second, looking into Starsky’s eyes, she does. “Hotel Garvey.” Carla reveals where the boyfriend’s holed up.

Leads dissolve. Shadows lengthen. Still, Starsky doesn’t give up.

A new tip takes him to Colonel Sonny McPherson, the aging warrior who fights battles only he can see. Still living for honor and glory. Starsky stiffens and salutes. He explains that the German spy the colonel has captured may be the key to the war.

The key to the war. A hope for the future. Given Starsky’s urgent tone and deference, how could it not be so? The soldier blushes and puffs out his chest. He points to exact coordinates on his map. Old and useless no more. Glory hallelujah.

The sun kisses the horizon. Starsky races against the coming night and Vic Humphries — a man intent on finishing the job the car crash left incomplete.

A few minutes more, a few minutes more, Starsky breaths as he presses his foot on the gas pedal. The car bucks in response. Around the next bend he brings the Torino to a screeching halt.

Starsky flings open the door and races down the hillside, catching Humphries then letting him fall. He isn’t what’s important.

In the waning light, Starsky sees Hutch’s flipped car and beneath it, a twisted body. The last rays of sun illuminate familiar golden hair.

Starsky scrambles around the car and slides down in the dirt beside Hutch. He gently lifts his partner’s face and holds it between his hands. Edges of moonlight reveal purpled bruises and streaks of blood. Hutch blinks up at him and manages a smile.

“We made it, partner,” Starsky whispers as twilight finally arrives. They don’t mind. The night is no longer a threat.

They’ve survived summer’s longest day. Tomorrow will bring a new dawn. They vow not to waste it as Starsky leans in ever closer and they share one perfect kiss.