August 21, 2008--The Way Kids Are These Days (Concluded)

“So what’dya think about guns?” I wasn’t sure this is what he said but I was not inclined to ask him to repeat himself. In fact, I didn’t look toward him, not wanting him to feel I was confronting him by doing that though by then he was no more than two feet from me and impossible to ignore. Though I kept my eyes glued to the floor tiles, I could hear his raspy breath and feel it hot and rancid on my face.

“So, what’dya think about them?” I still said nothing. He had his hands on his hips and was now standing face-to-face with me. I couldn’t help but look up at him. “It’s a simple question, ain’t it now?”

Rona had taken my arm and I felt her tugging me back toward her. I was happy to allow her to do that. Thankfully he didn’t advance any further so we just stood there, three feet apart, looking at each other. He apparently waiting for me to answer, me desperately hoping the waitress would finally appear and rescue us.

“Come on big fella. For someone looking as smart and fancy as you,” Rona was right, I needed to get what she called some Vermont clothes and jettison all my black pants and shirts that are the required uniform of the city, “that shouldn’t be such a tough one.” I sputtered something, even to me, unintelligible.

He stood there staring at me. With mockery, his look seemed to say, that I didn’t have an opinion about such things much less the ability to string two words together. But just as my fear was beginning to overwhelm me, I had been holding my breath and was about to faint, he reached a big paw out to me, dropped it on my shoulder with such force that I almost collapsed, and said to my great relief, “Relax now big fella. I’m was just havin’ a little fun with you.” Which he confirmed with a broad smile.

“You don’t have to worry that I’m not one of them militia types. Thankfully we don’t have any of those up here. Not too many, anyway. This is Vermont!” His grin expanded. “I’m just wonderin’ if you or your lady are hunters. That’s all. Guess I should have introduced myself or just come straight out and asked you rather than blurting out the way I did. See, I live sort of by myself and not used to talking to strangers. I’m married mind you, but I have lots of time on my hands these days. I’ve got my problems and can’t do much else with my time but think about the past and try, when I can, to take on a few odd jobs and when it’s the season get out into those woods back there.” He gestured to the tree line on the other side of the road. “But, to tell you the truth, these days not too many folks want to have much to do with me. They’ve heard all my stories a hundred times over. Like Sam, who you might of seen. He and I go back a lot of years. But we’ve grown tired of each other, to tell you the truth. I’ve heard about all his aches and pains and God knows he sure’s heard about mine. But we’re still friends though we haven’t said more’an a hello to each other since the last century.” He chuckled at that. “So I guess when I see a new face around I just don’t know how to act. My wife keeps remindin’ me ‘bout that I can assure you. She’s heard all my stories too. You can place money on that.”

I was by then nodding my head nonstop to assure him that it was all right that he was just having a little fun with me. No offense taken. I never felt for a moment, I lied, that he had me worried much less frightened. I too knew we were up in Vermont where everyone is friendly and peaceful. Or at least, I thought to myself, act that way.

Without pausing to acknowledge my babbling and realizing they were eager to close up and that he had only a few more minutes and much to say, he continued, “But she’s stuck with me through thick and thin. Got such high blood pressure that it costs me nearly nine hundred dollars a month for those eight medicines the doc wants me to take. Don’t do much good though. My numbers are still sky high. What, 280 over another number, which I forget. But it’s a big one. He told me I must have a blockage down here.” To show us, he let the shoulder strap of his overalls drop so that he could lift the corner of his shirt and point out to us, tucked below his considerable rolls of fat, exactly where they suspected he had some sort of narrowing. “He plans to shoot me full of some kind of dye which he says will show where the problem is so they cut it out, or somethin’ like that. Should either fix me up, the doc says, or kill me outright.” This so amused him that he roared with laughter and slapped my back with such force that I almost threw up my turkey.

“Yes sir, the wonders of science. Can’t wait to have it done though. With them drug bills I hardly have anything left over to put gas in my truck. Sons of bitches.” It wasn’t clear who he was referring to, but I knew from my own experience with medical things that it could be a long list of culprits. “But that’s neither here nor there. It’s still a great life here.” I began to nod again. “None better nowhere. Not that I’ve been anywhere.” He paused to suck in some air, “Though I would like to get out to Calraido.”

“Where?” from behind me Rona asked.

“Colraido. Where my people are from.” Still noticing that she wasn’t understanding, he added, “Out west near where Calraido and them other states come together. I forget what they call that place out there in the desert”

“You mean the Four Corners,” she offered.

“That’s it. That’s where they’re from. You could never tell from the looks of me but my great grandfather founded a town out there. I forget the name for a moment. Damn drugs do that to me—mess with my memory. But it’s a big place now. ‘Bout the size of this place. Bethel. On every map that I’ve looked at. I’d like to get out there one day before they put me in the ground.”

“Oh I’m sure . . . ,” I began to say.

“To tell you the truth I’m not so sure. But still I do have hopes.” He looked away from us as if to have a private moment to review them. I suspected that that too might be a long list. “But gettin’ back to that rifle--did I tell you about that? Not the one I go huntin’ with, but the one that’s from my great grandfather. It went from him to my grandfather and then on to my father and twenty year ago when he was killed to me. I don’t have a son to give it to, only a daughter, bless her, so I’d like one day to go out there and return it to someone from the family who must still live there. I don’t know for sure that anyone does, but I suspect they will and I’d like to meet them and bring back to them the gun that my great grandfather used to found that town. It musta come in handy. I’ll bet. Them musta been some days.”

The waitress was busy rearranging the stools that he had put up on the counter and then began to mop the floor where we were standing, being sure not to signal by this that she was in any way rushing us along. She cut a wide swath around us so as not to get in the way.

He shuffled closer to the counter to give her more room to work and reached out to hold onto it. Clearly in some discomfort or pain. I thought it must be from his blockage. “It’s not what you’re thinkin’,” he saw my look of concern. “It’s from when that backhoe fell on me. Back in ’92. I was workin’ for the Highway Department. After the winter fixin’ that road to Barnard. Son of a gun that thing just went of the shoulder and tumbled right on top of me. Broke my arm here in five places, cracked my pelvis and a couple of parts of my back. I’m lucky to be standin’ here, considerin’. Kept me in the hospital three weeks and two months in rehab—they didn’t rush you along back then like they do today—and they filled me up with all sorts of plates and screws. Take a look at these.” He held his left arm out toward us and slid up the sleeve. Sure enough, running up and down his arm were a series of still-raw looking scars and suture tracks. “Bet if I ever got to go to Calraido they would never let me through those metal detectors.” He chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t that be somethin’.”

“All you’d have to do . . .” I begin, but he cut me off again.

“I know, bring along my hospital records and a handful of X-rays. But as I told you before, though I’d like to get out there, there ain’t much likelihood of that.’ He sucked in another gulp of air and added, “That’s life for you. You make plans, you have dreams, and then you wind up sittin’ at a counter in a place like this and talking to folks like you.” As I attempted to ponder that and find something to say to make him feel better about his life, he quickly added, “But don’t hear me wrong. There’s nothin’ wrong with you folks. You seem like nice enough people. I was just making a point.”

I waited to see if he wanted to say more about that point, but he just looked back at us with what appeared to be a wistful look.

“Sorry to be spoilin’ your vacation like this.” I shook my head and waved my arm to indicate not at all.” “I’m getting’ along fine. Just fine. Though every once in awhile I get a little down on myself. “’Specially when I get to thinkin’ about my great grandfather and what he did all them years ago. That’s why that gun means so much to me. It represents somethin’. Know what I mean?” I thought I did and again nodded to him.

“Maybe if I can’t get there I’ll give it to my daughter. Though she’s one of those people who doesn’t like guns around the house. Her husband killed someone. Did I tell you? Not murder, I mean, or anything like that. He’s a good man. I’m proud to have him as a son in law. It was an accident. Out huntin’. Happens all the time. “’Bout as many hunters as deer get shot every year. I’m exaggeratin’ of course, but not by much. There was this woman just last year who was hanging out her wash and some hunter mistook her for a deer—you got me how anyone could do that—and shot her dead. I knew her and how she and her husband were strugglin’ to raise their three kids that all the rest of the year I’ve been bringin’ them venison from deer I’ve shot. And other foodstuffs as well, every time I have a little extra. The game wardens are all after me. They know to bring them meat I’ve been takin’ more deer than I’m allowed. We’re permitted just one per season but by now I’ve shoot three. Their freezer’s all stocked up and I don’t care what happens to me.”

This brought on a fit of coughing and to help quell it the waitress, without a word, handed him a glass of water. “Thanks Ellen,” he gasped, still choking. “I know you have to get on your way,” he said, his throat now clearer, “But one more thing, if you’ll indulge me. It’s about that rifle again. Though I don’t have a son I do have a grandson. I think I already told you that. He’s around eleven now and he has his eye on it. Wants it urgent. His mother won’t let him have any gun as you might imagine, but I have taken him out and tried to teach him about them. How to shoot ‘em and how to respect ‘em. To tell you the truth he is too full of jissom to pay much attention to the respect part. All he wants to do is run around firin’ at anything that moves. That worries me. But I love him and I’ll keep tryin’ to teach him a few things. He does have a mind of his own and still he wants that old rifle somethin’ fierce. I just don’t know what to do.”

He paused to finish the rest of his water, and again I struggled to think what I might say. And again, before I could formulate an appropriate thought, he said, “As I told you, I love him an would lay down what’s left of my life for him, but I’m not ready to promise him that rifle. As I told you, it represents somethin’ that I can’t quite put words to, and to just pass it along to him just ‘cause he wants it doesn’t seem true to its history. I feel it has to be earned somehow. Like my father did and as I feel I did. But he doesn’t understand this. He just wants it.”

This kind of wanting sounded very familiar to me and I did have much to say about it. But I held back because it was getting quite late and they really did need to close. And because I didn’t want to trouble him further with what would surely come out as disembodied, academic reflections on what, as a people, has happened to us through the generations.

But as we moved toward the door, putting his arm gently around my shoulders, he summed things up about as well as anyone might, “I s’pose that’s just the way kids are these days.”