By Margaret Shumate
For the Salisbury Post
Some years ago, I was granted an FHA housing loan. My daughter, Tracy, was a teenager and expressed her intense desire to attend East Rowan schools. My ex-father-in-law, Wade, volunteered and was approved to build us a modest home in Rockwell. As my budget was limited, central air conditioning was not possible, so Wade installed an attic fan instead.
One summer night, during the first year in our new home, I was sitting in the living room relaxing and watching television. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a quick dark flash in the hallway.
After an investigation that revealed nothing, I decided that my eyes were playing tricks on me because I was so tired and that it was definitely bedtime for me. Tracy was on summer break from school and was going to stay up and watch television in her bedroom for a while.
Around 2 a.m., Tracy woke me with an excited revelation. “Mom, I’m scared! There’s a bat flying around in my room!” I jumped up and rushed to her room, but could not confirm her sighting. I told her she must have been dreaming.
“No, Mom! Honest! I wasn’t asleep!”
Just then, from behind the drapes, appeared this ugly black creature with wide-spread wings. It definitely was a bat! We slammed the bedroom door and put towels around the bottom to hopefully keep it contained.
Unfortunately, there was no chance for help until daylight. Tracy kept a vigil for the remainder of the night in the living room, while keeping a watchful eye on the bedroom door. As I had to work the next day, I tried to sleep.
But every time I dozed, I dreamed of screeching bats biting my neck. After this restless night ended, I called my mother in Salisbury, who in turn got in touch with my nephew, Dusty, in China Grove. Luckily, he was available and said he and a friend would come and capture our unwelcome guest. I called my boss and gave her my best “bat” excuse for being late. She was very sympathetic but also greatly amused. I wasn’t!
The doorbell rang around 9 a.m. I opened the door to find my nephew (Batman) and his friend (Robin, I assumed) armed with an old quilt and a tennis racquet. They entered the bedroom, closed the door, bumped and rumbled around for about 15 minutes and then exited with smiles on their faces. The bat was found under Tracy’s pillow and was dead. Ding, Dong ó the bat was dead!
We discovered that it had entered the house through the slats in the attic fan which was located in the hallway. After praising “Batman” and “Robin” for their heroic efforts, I immediately shut and taped the attic fan slats.
They remained closed until I sold the house and moved back to Salisbury after Tracy’s high school graduation.
“Batman” Dusty still lives in China Grove but has since traded the bat cave in for a nice family farmhouse. He has a lovely wife, Ginger, and four beautiful daughters ó Dona, Gina, Emily and Lisa.
“Robin’s” whereabouts are unknown.

Margaret T. Shumate lives in Salisbury.