Equipped with dash cam footage and a creative streak, Amber made a funny poster known as the “wall of shame” to deter her mother’s garden thieves. Although Amber’s audacious retaliation became the talk of the town, not everyone thought her billboard was funny.
There are benefits to residing in a charming suburban community in Texas. The light always seems to be shining just perfectly, the air smells like freshly cut grass, and the gardens—oh, the gardens—are breathtaking. The jewel in our street’s crown was my mother’s garden.
She put everything she had into it—planting every plant, tending to every flower, and painstakingly placing each garden accent. However, her joy and pride had recently been the object of some extremely thoughtless, sticky-fingered neighbors.
By the way, my name is Amber, and this is my story about why I chose to take revenge on my mother’s garden.
Small-scale thefts were initially committed. One day a garden gnome went gone, the next a potted plant vanished. Mom initially believed she was going insane.
“Perhaps I lost it,” she would murmur, her brow twisted in perplexity.
But then, over night, whole plant bulbs began to disappear. The most detrimental aspect? Her beloved tulips, which she had spent years honing, were there. Mom was heartbroken, and I was enraged.
The robbers even started carting stolen Mom’s garden statuary! One of the stolen gnomes was her favorite, a little ceramic elf with a mischievous grin that seemed to bring the garden to life.
And the plants, oh, the plants! Whole flowerbeds tramped over, roses stripped of their petals, young saplings removed and allowed to wither.
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It was more than just annoying.
One morning at breakfast, I said, “There has to be someone nearby.” “Who else would sneak around our garden in the middle of the night?”
With misted eyes, Mom sighed. “Amber, I simply do not understand. Why would someone act in this manner?
“I’ll find out,” I said, resolutely fixed in my jaw. “And when I do, they’ll regret ever messing with your garden.”
At first, I had no idea how I would apprehend these plant robbers, but then it dawned on me: the dash cam.
My vehicle was facing Mom’s garden when it was parked in the driveway. I configured it to continuously record in the hopes of apprehending the offenders.
I watched the video a week later. Bingo!
There they were, several of our nosy neighbors, slipping into the garden under the cover of darkness. They dug, plucked, and stole one by one. It made my blood boil to watch them.
I recognized several of them immediately.
There was Mr. Green from across the street, who I’d once caught staring at Mom’s roses; there was Mrs. Parker from two doors down, who was always chatting up everyone about their business; and there were even the Watson twins, who were known for getting into trouble.
It resembled a blatant parade that was taking place in our own backyard.
However, then a thought emerged. I would give them a stage if they wanted to create a show out of themselves.
Over the next three days, I worked on creating a poster that would deter any would-be burglar.
It had sharp pictures of our petty neighbors with clever captions underneath each one.
“Mr. Potato Head” gave a shy smile while he picked up a garden gnome. “Petal Pilferer” held a bunch of her mother’s tulips as if it were a prize. The pièce de résistance, of course, is “Pothead” hoisting a potted fern.
And my masterpiece’s title? “Go Away Without Us! Stealing makes you appear like a real sap, so avoid becoming a garden thief!”
It was priceless to see Mom’s response when she saw the poster
Amber laughed so hard she almost sobbed, saying, “Amber, this is brilliant!” “Let’s put it up right away.”
The poster was prominently displayed in our front yard for everyone to see. And wow, was it noticed by many?
Our front yard was a tourist destination by the next morning. Soon, the entire neighborhood was bustling as cars slowed down and pedestrians paused to take pictures and stare.
Reactions were varied and quick
While some of our neighbors smiled and praised our inventiveness, others ran past, clearly embarrassed and afraid they would be up next on our wall of shame. It was everything I hoped for and more.
I was inside, having my morning coffee, when I observed a group of kids snapping photos in front of the billboard. I couldn’t resist grinning. “Well, Mom, I think we’ve made quite the impression.”
Mom’s eyes glistened with a mixture of satisfaction and amusement as she peered out the window. “All right. Now perhaps they will reconsider before tampering with my garden.”
A knock on the door cut short our conversation just then. When I opened it, there was a cameraman accompanying a youthful, enthusiastic reporter who was holding a microphone.
“Hello, this is Julie from News Channel 5. We would be delighted to discuss your… innovative strategy for combating garden thieves with you.”
Mom and I looked at each other.
I said, “Sure, come on in,” and moved aside to make room for them.
For the next thirty minutes, we talked about the dash cam footage, the thefts, and our choice to hang the poster.
I could see the reporter savoring it, and Mom’s love for her garden was evident
Julie grinned at us as they gathered up their gear. This has the makings of a fantastic tale. I appreciate your time.
The altercations started soon after the news crew left. First up was Mr. Thompson, father of the teenage boy caught red-handed. He stormed up our driveway, his face as red as a tomato.
“How dare you embarrass my son like this!” he shouted, waving his finger in my face. “He was just trying to bring flowers to his sick girlfriend!”
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. “Really, Mr. Thompson? At midnight? From my mom’s garden? Does he have a problem with knocking on the door to ask if he can have flowers?”
He snarled something unpleasant under his breath before turning on his heel and stomping off.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, that went well.”
The next confrontation was a bit more pathetic.
Mr. Jenkins, an older man with a perpetually worried expression, shuffled up to our porch holding a plant cutting. He avoided eye contact while he spoke.
“I, uh, think my wife took this by mistake,” he murmured. “She’s on the town’s board of directors, you know. Can we keep this between us?”
Mom’s mischievous eyes twinkled. “Tell her to make like a bee and buzz off.”
Word got around like wildfire. Some neighbors thought the poster was brilliant, a long-overdue stand against petty theft.
Others thought we’d gone too far, turning what should’ve been a private matter into a public spectacle. At the town meeting that evening, opinions were split right down the middle.
“I think it’s great that someone finally did something about it!” As she spoke, Mrs. Collins clapped her hands. “People should respect other people’s property!”
“But it’s humiliating!” Mr. Perez got into a dispute. “You’re turning the neighborhood into a circus!”
Mom and I stayed put during the spirited arguments.
When the neighbors threatened lawsuits, we reminded them that we could also sue for theft and trespassing. That shut them up pretty quickly.
Back home, Mom and I settled into our usual evening routine. She tended to her newly flourishing garden while I kept an eye on the front yard, still bustling with activity.
A couple of college kids were taking a video in front of the poster, narrating the whole saga for their followers.
“Looks like we’ve gone viral,” I remarked, swiping through my phone. “We’re all over social media.”
Mom smiled, her eyes softening. “All right. Maybe now they’ll think twice before messing with anyone’s garden.”
In the weeks that followed, the thefts stopped completely. Mom’s garden started to grow like crazy. The grass turned greener, fresh flowers opened, and even the garden gnomes appeared to smile a little more broadly.
The poster remained up, serving as a daily reminder to appreciate the labor and assets of others.
The poster quickly became the stuff of local legend.
Visitors from nearby communities stopped by merely to take pictures and exchange anecdotes. It came to represent the tenacity of the community and the value of standing up for what is right.
Mom turned to face me one evening while we were enjoying the cool Texas breeze on the porch. Her eyes were beaming with pride.
“Without you, Amber, I couldn’t have completed this. I appreciate you defending my garden and me.”
I grinned as a wave of warmth passed through my chest. “What can I do for you, Mom? Anything at all for you.”
And as the sun descended on our idyllic suburban neighborhood, I realized that we had strengthened our bonds as a community in addition to safeguarding Mom’s garden.
Because in the end, it wasn’t just about the flowers or the gnomes. It was about respect, resilience, and the power of standing up for what’s right.
Dan Haggerty, Who Played Grizzly Adams
Dan Haggerty, who gained widespread recognition for his portrayal of the kind mountain man with a striking beard and his bear friend Ben in the NBC television series and 1974 film “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams,” passed away on Friday in Burbank, California. His age was 73 years.
Terry Bomar, his manager and friend, stated that spinal cancer was the cause of death.
Dan Haggerty was creating a name for himself in Hollywood as an animal handler and stuntman before landing his famous part. When a producer requested him to appear in a few opening moments for a film about a woodsman and his bear, it was his big break. The plot, which is based on a novel by Charles Sellier Jr., centers on a man who flees to the woods after being wrongfully convicted of murder, becomes friends with the local wildlife, and takes in an abandoned bear.
Haggerty accepted to do the part, but he had one requirement: he had to appear in the whole film. Despite having a relatively low budget of $165,000, the film’s remake brought in close to $30 million at the box office. Because of this popularity, a television series was created, and in February 1977, Haggerty went back to playing the character of the wild and outdoorsy wilderness guardian.
The audience responded well to the show. It lukewarms the heart, as The New York Times’ John Leonard observed in his review. A large lump in the throat and a lot of communing with nature are experienced when a man and a bear hide out in a log cabin. Haggerty won a 1978 People’s Choice Award for being the most well-liked actor in a new series because of the series’ warm and sympathetic tone, which won over a lot of viewers.
The series also yielded two follow-ups: “Legend of the Wild,” which was broadcast on television in 1978 and eventually released in theaters in 1981, and “The Capture of Grizzly Adams,” a 1982 television film in which Adams ultimately exonerates himself of the false charge.
Born in Los Angeles on November 19, 1942, Daniel Francis Haggerty had a difficult upbringing. He had a turbulent childhood, breaking out of military school several times before coming home with his actor-father in Burbank when his parents divorced when he was three years old.
Haggerty was married twice in his personal life. When he was 17, he got married to Diane Rooker, but they later got divorced. In 2008, he lost his second wife, Samantha Hilton, in a horrific motorbike accident. His children, Don, Megan, Tracy, Dylan, and Cody, survive him.
In his debut motion picture, “Muscle Beach Party” (1964), Haggerty portrayed bodybuilder Biff. After that, he played supporting parts in motorcycle and wildlife movies. He was a hippie commune member in “Easy Rider.” He also played the role off-screen, living with a variety of wild creatures he had either tamed or rescued on a small ranch in Malibu Canyon.
His expertise with animals led to positions as an animal trainer and stuntman for television shows including “Daktari” and “Tarzan.” He kept taking on parts like “Where the North Wind Blows” (1974) and “The Adventures of Frontier Fremont” (1976) that highlighted his affinity for the natural world. His love of outdoor parts brought him roles evoking Grizzly Adams to movies like “Grizzly Mountain” (1997) and “Escape to Grizzly Mountain” (2000).
Haggerty had appearances in a number of horror movies later in his career, such as “Terror Night” (1987) and “Elves” (1989). He was involved in court in 1985 and was given a 90-day jail sentence for distributing cocaine to police officers who were undercover.
Tragic incidents also occurred in his life. Haggerty suffered third-degree burns to his arms when a diner carrying a burning drink unintentionally caught his renowned beard on fire in 1977 when he was dining. Despite being admitted to the hospital and supposed to stay for a month, he left after just ten days, claiming to have expertise of curing animals.
“The first couple of days I just lay in the dark room drinking water, like a wounded wolf trying to heal myself,” he said, reflecting on his injury, to People magazine.
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