In 1959 in
Minneapolis radio station KDWB joined longtime stalwart WDGY as a second
station in the city playing rock and roll music. For years afterward they
competed with each other offering gifts and promotions, vying for the potentially
lucrative teenage audience. Tommy Langston didn't care about any of that. He
just liked the music and would switch stations all day long in an effort to
bypass those bothersome commercials and get to the real music. That good old rock and roll music. He was kind
of addicted. He carried his Silvertone transistor radio with him everywhere he
went. It was in a brown leather case that he could strap to his three speed
black Raleigh bicycle as he rode around his neighborhood blasting out the latest
tunes. He carried it with him during the day, the tiny speaker pressed to his ear,
singing along to Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly. He put the radio
next to his head at night and fell asleep to Gene Vincent, Sam Cooke and the
Shirelles. He listened so much that his mother finally told him that she was
going to limit the amount of batteries she'd give him for his radio. That was
fine with him. He'd just get a job and that set the course for a summer that he
would remember for the rest of his life.
Tommy was twelve years old had been
cutting his parent's lawn for past two years now, ever since they'd moved into
the neighborhood. He enjoyed it and did
a pretty good job of it, if he did say so himself. They paid him two dollars
and twenty five cents. The neighborhood he lived in was a relatively new
housing development in the first tier of suburbs spreading south and west from
Minneapolis. The lots were roughly eighty feet by one hundred feet usually with
a two story house and attached double car garage plopped in the middle. School
had recently ended and the grass cutting season was under way. The next day he
started going door to door and by the time the afternoon was over he had three
jobs lined up. One up the hill on his block with Mrs. Everson, a nice old lady
whose husband had passed away some years back. One on the street behind him and
down at the end of the block with Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson, an elderly couple
whose yard was very tidy and filled with flower gardens. Finally, the last one
was two blocks away down at the end of a cul-de-sac with a family new to the
area, Mr. and Mrs. Rose and their two kids. All of the people he worked for let
him use their own lawn mowers, so that was good, he could just ride his bike
over and cut the grass. He started the following day with Mrs. Evenson and
within a week had made enough money to keep him in batteries for the rest of
the summer.
Each of his customer's treated him
well. Mrs. Everson always made sure he got a glass of Tang after he finished.
Usually some cookies too. Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson were a kindly old couple and
usually were working in the yard themselves while he cut the grass. Mr.
Sorenson even took time to show him how to perform basic garden maintenance
like weeding, edging and dead-heading, all of which Tommy enjoyed. Mr. Sorenson
also paid him extra for the additional work even though Tommy told him he
didn't have to. "Good pay for good work," Mr. Sorenson told him, so
Tommy gladly took the extra cash. Then there was Mr. Rose. He was as different
from his other two customers as night and day. While Mrs. Everson and the
Sorenson's were nice and what Tommy would consider normal run-of-the-mill
adults, Mr. Rose was very different. For example, one day shortly after he'd
been hired Tommy had finished the lawn and had used the garden hose to clean
off the mower. He was getting ready to go up to the front door to get paid when
Mr. Rose came out to meet him. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. "Hey
there, Tommy my boy," he said with a big smile and a flourish of his arm.
"All finished I see."
"Yes, sir, I am," Tommy
said cautiously. Mr. Rose seemed a little too happy. A little too friendly. All
of the adults Tommy knew treated kids with a diffident manner. Young people in
their place, adults in their own place, his Auntie June always said. His Uncle
Simon was more succinct. Seen but not heard, was the phrase he often used if
Tommy and his siblings made too much noise. Mr. Rose was being too forward,
something Tommy was not used to. Looking more closely he realized Mr. Rose was
drunk. It was only 1:00 pm in the afternoon. Fortunately, at that time Mrs.
Rose came out and paid him and Tommy grabbed his bike. As he rode off he could
hear Mr. and Mrs. Rose yelling at each other. He pedaled faster to get a way.
To others idly watching, Tommy's
life was the uncomplicated world of a twelve year old. On one level he had his
transistor radio and his rock and roll music. He enjoyed riding his bicycle. He
had friends. He enjoyed sports. He was a kid on the verge of becoming a young
adult. But life is complicated and usually more is going on than what it may
seem like on the surface, and that was the case with Tommy and his family. His
parents had separated six months previously, just before Christmas. His father
had moved out leaving Tommy's mother to care for him and his younger brother
and two younger sisters. With his father gone the house had dramatically
changed. There had been a depressing quiet that was both disconcerting and
uncomfortable. Especially in the first few months. No one quite knew what to
make of their new situation. Everyone was distant and distracted. Even Tommy's
mom. But over time they all starting to get used to their father being gone. The
kids were young and resilient, and their mother started doing all she could to
keep everyone's spirits up.
She sat down with Tommy one evening
after dinner a few weeks into the summer and asked him about the three lawns he
was cutting. About his 'customers' as she called them. "Tell me about
them," she said, sitting him down at the kitchen table where she lit a
cigarette and took a sip of coffee. "Are they nice?"
They were having these little chats
more and more often now that his father was gone. Staying connected. Tommy kind
of liked it. Made him feel secure. "Well, first of all there's Mrs.
Everson. She's kind of quiet, but pretty nice, I guess."
"I heard she used to teach English."
"Yeah, she did. Over at Holy
Trinity, that Catholic girls high school."
Tommy's mom nodded, "She lives
alone, doesn't she? I heard her husband died a while ago."
"Yeah, she's all by herself,
but seems fine. Not lonely or anything. Most of the time I'm there she's
sitting in the backyard reading."
"I think it was around five
years ago that her husband died. That's what I heard anyway." Tommy's mom
enjoyed these conversations with him. She worked all day as a receptionist at
the headquarters of a national hotel chain. She started the job after Tommy's
dad had left. She was usually pretty rung out when she got home. She took a sip
of coffee and another drag off her cigarette. "I've never met her,"
she added, blowing smoke away from her son.
"She's pretty quiet. I think
she's writing a book. I heard her talking about it on the phone once when I
went to the door to get paid."
"You shouldn't eavesdrop,
Tommy," she admonished him. "That's not polite."
Tommy's mom was forever monitoring
how he acted. So did his grandmother . So did his Auntie June who had started
coming by during the day to watch over the household while his mom was at work.
Sometimes Tommy felt that he was unfairly surrounded by strong willed,
assertive women. In the long run, though, if he were to be honest with himself,
it was alright. They made him feel cared for. "Yeah, I know, mom. I
couldn't help it." She gave him a stern look, meaning, 'Just don't let it
happen again.' Tommy got what the point was. He was used to being admonished by
his mom and took it in stride. "I won't mom, I promise," he said,
attempting to reassure her.
She snubbed out her cigarette, went
into the laundry room and brought out a armful of clothes fresh out of the
drier. "Here, help me fold these." Tommy got up to help. They worked
at the kitchen table. It was round with a Formica top. Perfect for folding.
"Tell me about Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson. I see them at the grocery store.
They seem like good people."
"Oh, they are. Mr. Sorenson's
great. He's teaching me about gardening."
"Like what?" she asked
with a raised inflection in her voice wanting her son to know she was
interested in what he was doing.
"Well, he showed me the
difference between weeds and what he called good plants." He made a quotes
sign with his hands. His mom laughed.
"So what are good plants?"
She laughed again, kind of gently, encouraging him.
Tommy had to remind himself he wasn't
being quizzed like in school. He wasn't the best student. Not by a long shot. His
mom was genuinely interested. "He said there are annuals and perennials.
Annuals are like pansies and geraniums and you plant them every year.
Perennials come back year after year."
"Like the peonies in the
backyard?" she asked.
Tommy thought about it and then answered,
"Yeah, I guess, like them."
His mother sighed, "I love
those peonies. Did I tell you they came from grandma and grandpa's place in
Truman?"
Tommy laughed, "Yeah, mom,
about a hundred million times." He glanced at her, busily folding a pair
of his brothers blue jeans. She was quiet for a few moments lost in thought.
Lost in good memories maybe of when she was young and growing up in a small town
in southern Minnesota. Back then she had her whole life in front of her. She
had dreams she hoped would come true. Now, things were changed. Life did not
work out the way she'd planned. She shook her shoulders once and then smiled at
Tommy, "Well, it sounds as if you like Mr. Sorenson a lot."
"I do. It's fun to work in his
yard. It always looks so nice when I'm done."
She nodded and was quiet again.
"Let's take a break." She went to the stove and poured another cup of
coffee. Then she went to the refrigerator and poured a small glass of milk for
Tommy and sat down at the table, pushing a pile of unfolded laundry aside. She
opened up her cigarettes and shook one out, lighting it with a Zippo lighter.
She seemed to relax, sipping her coffee and smoking. Tommy took a sip of milk
and then picked up the pack of cigarettes and sniffed it. The brand were Pall
Malls and they didn't have a filter. They smelled good to him. His mother took
the pack from his hands. "Don't start smoking, young man," she gave
him that hard look again, "It's not good for you."
"Why do you do it, then?"
he asked, hoping he wasn't stepping over that invisible boundary between being
rude and honest curiosity.
She looked off into the distance.
"Why do I do a lot of things?" she answered somewhat cryptically,
like she was talking to herself. Then she shook her head, like she had just
come back from somewhere far away, to the here and now, the real world. She
smiled again, "Anyway, tell me about Mr. Rose."
Mr. Rose was the one customer of his
who made him kind of uncomfortable. "I don't like him very much."
"Why's that?" His mom focused
in on him. She seemed to have sort of a built in motherly radar up.
Tommy was hesitant. He wasn't sure
if he should tell her about Mr. Rose and his drinking. He looked at his mom and
she encouraged him to continue. "Well, just that about every time I'm
finished and go to him to get paid..." he paused, unsure of how to
continue.
"Go ahead," his mom said.
Tommy sighed and blurted out,
"I think he drinks. He acts drunk sometimes." Tommy knew enough about
drinking because his parents drank. Not a lot, he didn't think, but they did.
You could call it social drinking. A martini before dinner was fairly common
for his folks when his dad was living at home. His parents had parties where
drinks were served. People got happy and laughed a lot, but Tommy had never
seen anyone really drunk. But Mr. Rose seemed different. First of all, he
seemed to drink all the time. At least he did when Tommy was over, which was
usually in the middle of the day and, to him, that didn't seem right. Also,
sometimes Tommy would hear him yelling at his wife or his kids, mean sounding
yelling, slurring his words. It kind of scared him but he didn't want to say
that to his mom. He wanted to keep his job. He enjoyed having the money he was
making.
"Do you want me to talk to
him?"
"Mom, no," he exclaimed.
"Don't do that. I can handle it." He looked at her, pleading.
"Really, it's Ok."
She watched him for a few moments,
thinking. Then made her decision. "Alright, then. Just let me know if you
need me to step in."
"Ok, mom, I will." Tommy
smiled, relieved. He liked that she gave him credit to watch out for himself.
It was something she was doing more often in the days since his dad had left.
It made him feel grown up.
They chatted some more as they
finished folding the laundry. Then Tommy went down to the basement where his
younger brother, Steve, was watching The Andy Griffith Show on TV. Tommy and
Steve got along pretty well. Steve was two years younger and had his own group
of friends that he hung out with. Susan and Mary, his younger sisters were
there also. This fall they would be going into first and third grade. Tommy put
up with them as best as he could. All the kids had become withdrawn when their
dad had left. But over time things had changed for the good. Their mom had been
taking time to talk to each of them like she had just done with Tommy and,
interestingly, the family seemed closer than ever these days. Tommy noticed
that they didn't fight between themselves as much as they used to. It was
weird, but kind of nice. He had settled in with the show when the phone rang
upstairs. Then his mom called down, "Tommy. Phone."
"Who is it?"
"Kirk."
"Ok. I'll be right there."
Tommy hiked up the stairs to the small
table by the front door where the phone was located and picked up the receiver.
"Hey, Kirk. What's up?"
Kirk and Tommy had been friends for
the past two years, ever since Tommy's family had moved to the neighborhood.
"Well, I've got 'em," Kirk said. "I'll meet you tomorrow in the
woods."
"Great." Tommy smiled into
the phone. "What kind?"
"Kools. You know, the menthol
kind."
"Fantastic. We haven't had them
before, have we?"
"Naw. My mom smokes 'em. That's
why they send 'em to us.
Promotional packs of five cigarettes
were often mailed out to households by cigarette companies. Kirk's mom and dad
smoked a lot and always were getting them. For the past few months Kirk had
been keeping a look out for those free packs and swiping them every once in a
while for he and Tommy to smoke. His mother never suspected a thing.
"I've got to cut the Sorenson's
lawn tomorrow morning. I'll meet you after. Around noon."
After they hung up Tommy went upstairs
to the room he shared with his brother. Steve was still watching television in
the basement. Tommy turned his radio on and lay down on his bed. 'Runaround Sue'
by Dion and the Belmonts came on. He loved that song. He closed his eyes and
got lost in the music, only feeling slightly guilty about sneaking smokes with
Kirk. What the heck, he thought to himself. His mom didn't need to know
everything about his life. Did she?
About a mile
north of the housing development where Tommy and his family lived was a lake.
On the west side of the lake was a swamp and in the middle of the swamp was a
low hill covered with a grove of oak, maple and poplar trees that the boys in
the area referred to as The Woods. Tommy met Kirk there just after noon the
next day. They lit up their cigarettes and sat back, each against the trunk of
a tree.
"Man, this tastes great,"
Tommy exclaimed, "Like chewing spearmint gum."
"I know," Kirk responded.
"Kools are great. Maybe we should try to buy a pack."
Buying a pack of cigarettes was
considered a big mark of maturity with the gang of boys Tommy and Kirk ran
around with. They were always planning how to do it. A gas station a few miles
away up on the highway seemed the most likely candidate. Today, however, their conversation took a
different turn. "Say, I heard Pam Longfellow was asking about you,"
Kirk said. "Linda told me." Linda was Kirk's girlfriend. "Looks
like you might get yourself a little sweetie after all." He laughed and
nudged Tommy with his elbow. "The man of the hour but he's never been
kissed," Kirk joked. Tommy's ears burned and he slugged Kirk hard in the
arm. Soon the cigarettes were forgotten as the two friends tussled among the leaves
and dirt debris on the floor of the forest.
Thinking about girls ran very high
in the areas of interest in Tommy's life. This fall he and his friends would be
entering seventh grade. They had heard all kinds of stories about school dances
on Friday nights and make out parties on Saturday nights. Though the interest
was there, just the thought of dancing with a girl was enough to send Tommy's
emotions into a tail-spin, let alone kissing one. There was a lot of pressure
from his pals to get a girl friend. He was very shy around girls and the
pressure of his peers was sometimes more than he could bear. Sometimes he just
wished he could forget the whole thing and do nothing but mow lawns and listen
to his radio. It would sure make life easier but he did have to admit that Pam
Longfellow was someone he was kind of attracted to. She was tall and had big brown
eyes and long dark hair. She even had smiled at him once or twice in the last
few days toward the end of sixth grade. There might be something to what Kirk
was talking about.
After they quit wrestling and
rolling around on the ground they shook themselves off and each took a minute
to comb their hair. Tommy used Brylcreem hair product and was forever trying to
keep a wave in his hair with duck-tails combed back on the sides. When he was
sure everything was in place, he pocketed his comb and had another cigarette
from the pack Kirk handed him. He couldn't believe how much he liked the taste.
He was thinking about Pam Longfellow when Kirk broke in on this thoughts.
"My folks are having a party this Saturday night. Want to come over?"
"Is there going to be any booze
there?"
Kirk laughed. "Man, you know my
parents. There'll be gallons and gallons."
"I'll be there."
The two friends had been sampling
booze from Kirk's parent's liquor cabinet ever since last New Year's Eve, just
after Tommy's dad had left home. Kirk's parents had a party at least once a
month. It was a chance for the two friends to try out different types of
alcohol. So far their favorite drink was gin and tonic, probably because it
tasted so much like 7UP. They didn't drink much, just enough to get a warm
feeling and they never even came close to getting drunk. Now, especially with
Mr. Rose's behavior fresh in his mind, Tommy wasn't sure he was excited to even
try alcohol anymore. But he figured he'd do it anyway. Kirk was always game and
Tommy didn't want to disappoint his friend. So when next Friday rolled around
he went to the party and the evening passed without an incident. Tommy was glad
for that. He managed to only have a few sips of some of some bourbon whiskey
left out on the counter. He didn't like it at all.
As the
summer progressed, Tommy realized that he was not only enjoying earning money,
but he was also enjoying the work of cutting lawns. He liked being outside. He
like the physical labor. He even was starting to like each of his customers.
Mrs. Everson had a little patio in her back yard. It was paved with red bricks
and she had a wrought iron table on it with an umbrella and four chairs. The
wrought iron was painted white. As the freshness of June transformed itself
into the deep greens of July, Mrs. Everson took to spending time out on her
patio in the shade of the umbrella writing at her table. "Come over here,
Tommy," she said one day when he had finished mowing and was getting ready
to get paid. "Let me read you something."
Tommy came over and sat down. She
pushed a glass of ice cold Tang over to him. "What's up?" he asked,
thanking her for tasty orange beverage and taking a welcoming drink.
"I've been writing a story
about the history of my family. Let me read a part of it to you."
Tommy sat back and listened. He was
slightly uncomfortable because he was not a very good student in school and
usually if he was being read to it was by a teacher and there was usually a
quiz involved at some point afterwards. But he soon forgot about all that. Very
quickly he became lost in Mrs. Everson's story. Her grandparents had immigrated
to the United States from Germany just after the Civil War. They had eventually
settled in southeastern Nebraska and became farmers. Their story was one of
hard work and perseverance though wind storms, drought, insect plagues and wild
fires. What Mrs. Everson read was the beginning of a chapter that had to do
with the grandmother and her daughters, one of which was Mrs. Everson's mother,
setting up a sort of inn for travelers to stop at and stay overnight. He was
fascinated.
"What do you think?" she
asked when she was done reading. The story had taken only about five minutes
but Tommy felt he could have listened forever.
"I liked it. Especially the
part about her husband having a team of horses haul logs from the river bank to
build the new inn. That was pretty cool."
Mrs. Everson sat back and removed
her glass and smiled, rubbing her eyes. "Have you ever heard the term
'Salt of the Earth'?" Tommy shook his head, No. "It means incredibly
hard working people. Honest, truthful and trustworthy. That's what my
grandparents were." She then showed him a photograph. "Here they are.
Frederick and Helen Reisman."
Tommy carefully took the old photo
and looked at it. It was a faded, sepia tone picture of two old people standing
in front of a wood frame farm house. Their clothes were worn and their
expressions were serious. Yet they looked both strong and healthy, like they
could definitely take care of themselves. "Did they live in Nebraska their
whole lives?" he asked, mainly to say something, although he was very
touched that Mrs. Everson had thought enough of him to share her story with
him.
"Yes. They died on that farm.
It's down near the town of Beatrice on the Little Blue River. They are buried
in the town's cemetery. I go down there every year or two, just to visit their
grave and the site of their farmhouse. Someone tore it down years ago to make
room to plant more corn. Granny Helen was like a second mother to me. My mother
was born on that farm in 1873." She stopped and was quiet then, looking
off across the yard. Maybe as far as Nebraska, maybe further. Tommy just sat
with her, feeling comfortable in the presence of this nice, friendly old lady.
He was getting to enjoy being at her place and cutting her lawn. For the rest
of the summer after he'd finished his work, she would sit him down and read him
some of her story. He would sip Tang as he listened, occasionally asking
questions, learning about a part of his nation's history he never had even thought
about before. He hadn't realized that learning could be so interesting.
The same was true with Mr. and Mrs.
Sorenson. The longer he worked for them, the more he enjoyed it. In addition to
Mr. Sorenson teaching him about gardening, Mrs. Sorenson was teaching him about
birds and bird watching. It all started one day in early July.
"Come here, Tommy. Come quick."
She motioned to him when he showed up ready to cut the grass.
"What's up?" He jogged
over to the corner of the backyard where she was standing with a pair of
binoculars.
"Look over there." She
pointed to a bird house on a post in the middle of a field out past the back
yard.
Tommy looked but didn't see
anything. "What am I looking for?" he asked.
Mrs. Sorenson gave him her
binoculars. "Here," she was really excited. "Look through these.
Look at the bird house." Tommy did as he was told. He had to focus them
first and when he did he saw what she was so fired up about. "Do you see
them?" she asked. "Bluebirds"
He did. He saw them. A bird
beautifully deep sky blue in color with a rusty, reddish breast. "I can
see them," he exclaimed. "Well, one anyway."
"That's right. Keep watching. There's
a pair of them. They're busy flying back and forth. They have babies in there.
They're feeding their young." Mrs. Sorenson was almost dancing, she was so
happy. "Mr. Sorenson put up the bird house last year. This is the first
year we've had customers." She was more animated than he'd ever seen her.
Or seen any adult, really, for that matter.
Tommy caught the excitement.
"Cool." Was all he could think to say, but it really was pretty neat.
He'd never seen bluebirds before. He and Mrs. Sorenson spent nearly an
hour trading off the binoculars and
watching the parents feeding their young. Finally Mr. Sorenson came out and
made him get to work cutting the grass.
"Won't I scare the birds?"
he asked, concerned, looking at Mrs. Sorenson.
"A little. But don't worry.
They're pretty used to us by now. They've been around for nearly two months. I
just never thought to point them out to you before."
"Well, I'm glad you showed them
to me," was all Tommy could think to say. "They're very cool." And
he went off to cut the grass, watching the bird house and the activity around
it while he worked. He never even noticed Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson watching him,
smiling to each other.
Mr. Rose was another matter. Over
the course of the summer Tommy had become very uncomfortable with the guy's
drinking which he seemed to do all the time. He might have just quit the job
except that he liked Mrs. Rose and he especially liked the Rose's two kids,
both boys, aged nine and seven. William, who went by Willie and John, who went
by the name Jessie, were lots of fun.
"They look up to you, you
know," Mrs. Rose told him once. "You're like an older brother to
them."
Which was fine with Tommy. He was
used to little kids because of his brother Steve and his two sisters. After
Willie and Jessie got used to him being around, Tommy had taken to playing
catch with the brothers when he was done cutting the grass. He did other things
with them too, like flying balsam wood gliders, playing marbles and shooting
baskets just to name a few. The more he got to know the brothers, the more he
liked them. "Why do you call yourself Jessie?" he asked John once.
"Because of Jessie James, the
outlaw," he answered in all earnestness. "He's my hero."
Tommy laughed. "Good for you.
It's good to have a hero," he said, thinking back to the Robin Hood phase
he'd gone through when he was about Jessie's age. Then he added, "I've
seen his grave, you know. Jessie James'. It's in Missouri. Do you know where
Missouri is?" Which was true. He'd seen it on a family vacation a few
years back. Jessie shook his head, No, eyes wide. "It's pretty cool,"
Tommy continued, "Maybe your parents can take you there sometime."
The brothers were lots of fun for Tommy.
Mrs. Rose was nice too. Always giving him lemonade after he'd done his work.
The boys usually wanted to play and lately Tommy was enjoying teaching Willie
how to play chess. They'd sit in the grass in the shade in the back yard with
Mrs. Rose watching from her kitchen window and Jessie restlessly pacing on the
grass beside them, talking about bank robbers and the old west.
One day Mrs. Rose took him aside.
"I have a question for you, Tommy. Would you be willing to babysit Willie
and Jessie occasionally? Mr. Rose and I like to go out sometimes and our
regular sitter isn't always available. We'll pay you fifty cents an hour."
"Sure," Tommy beamed.
"Love to." And just like that he had more money coming in.
But Mr. Rose was still an issue.
When he was drinking he was too friendly with Tommy, always putting his arm
around his shoulder and making sick jokes. It turned out he taught geology at
the University of Minnesota and had a block of time off during the summer.
Sometimes he wasn't there and those were the times Tommy liked the most. He was
torn. He didn't like Mr. Rose, but he liked Mrs. Rose and the kids a lot. He
decided to stick it out and keep cutting the grass. Besides, with the extra job
babysitting, he'd have more money, and that was a good deal in his book.
He filled his mom in on how the jobs
were progressing one evening in late July. The day had been hot and muggy with oppressive
heat. Earlier Auntie June had taken Tommy's brother and two sisters down to
Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis to go swimming and cool off. Now they were all
downstairs in the cool basement watching television. "Let's go sit out
back in the shade," Tommy's mom said. "It's cooler out there."
The one floor fan in the house wasn't doing much to give any relief to the
heat. Outside was a good place to be.
"Sure, mom. That'd be
good."
They went out back each unfolding an
aluminum lawn chair and sat down in the cool grass under a young birch tree. A
light breeze from the south felt refreshing on their skin. They sat facing out
into the yard which was on the east side of the house and was cooling off from
the heat of the day.
"So how are your lawn jobs
working out? You still enjoy them?" his mom asked. They hadn't had a nice
chat for a while.
He filled his mom in on his
customers. "Mrs. Everson is writing a book about her ancestors. Mostly
about her grandparents and she reads to me out of it every time I go over
there. It's pretty interesting."
Tommy's mom nodded and smiled. She
liked that her son was interested in something other than his radio and rock
and roll music. "What's she call the book?"
"I think she's thinking of
calling it 'Salt of the Earth'." Tommy looked at his mom. "Do you
know what that means."
She laughed. "Yes, I do. I
think of my parents, your grandparents, that way."
And they talked a bit about Tommy's
grandma and grandpa and what it was like for Tommy's mom to grow up in a small
town in southern Minnesota and all the good memoires she had. When the
conversation ran out, she asked about the Sorenson's.
"I saw Mrs. Sorenson at the
grocery store. She told me about you and her watching those baby
bluebirds."
"It was really cool, mom."
Tommy became very excited. "The babies left the nest box about a month
ago. One day they were there and the next they were gone, is what Mrs. Sorenson
said."
Tommy's mom smiled. "Sounds
like this has been a pretty good summer for you. New experiences and all."
"It's been great, mom. I'm
making a lot of money. I'm saving to buy a car," he added and gave his mom
a look out of the corner his eye.
She gave him a stern look back.
"We'll talk about it later, young man," was all she said.
Tommy nodded, happy that at least
she didn't say No.
They sat back, resting and enjoying
the cool of the evening. Tommy went inside and came back with a glass of Kool-Aid
loaded with ice. He brought his mom a glass of ice tea. She thanked him and lit
a cigarette which Tommy had to admit looked and smelled good. He'd have to hit
up Kirk for a smoke tomorrow. His thoughts were interrupted by his mom.
"So how's it going with Mr. Rose?" Tommy looked over at her. She had
her eyes closed and had her head resting on the back of her chair. She seemed
very comfortable and at ease. He didn't want to worry her.
"It's going good, mom. I don't
see him much anymore. It's mostly Mrs. Rose and the two kids. I like them all a
lot." He was quiet for a moment. "You really don't have to
worry."
Tommy honestly hadn't had much trouble
lately with Mr. Rose. He'd baby sat a few times and everything had gone fine.
Mr. Rose had been pretty drunk at the end of those evenings, but Tommy had only
had to deal with Mrs. Rose. She was the one to pay him and seemed eager for him
to get out the door and go home. Once, when he was outside walking to his bike
he heard them start fighting. Words raised in anger. He hurried away on his
bicycle wondering if their yelling was going to wake up Willie and Jessie. He
got home that night, checked in with his mom, and quietly crawled into bed.
He'd bought an ear-plug listening device for his radio so he could listen in
bed without bothering Steve. The last song he remembered before he fell asleep
was 'Runaway' by Del Shannon. When his mom checked in on him later before she
went to bed, Tommy was smiling in his sleep. She turned his radio off, brushed
his hair off his forehead, and went to bed herself, happy that her oldest boy
seemed to be having a pretty good summer.
If you asked
Tommy about it he would tell you that, Yes, he was having a pretty good summer.
Good enough that was, until his mom told him that his dad was coming over for a
visit. It was about a week after they had been talking in the back yard, the
first week of August, and Immediately when he heard the news his anxiety level
with up off the charts. He actually started perspiring he was so nervous.
"By why? Mom," he asked
trying not to sound whiney. They had just finished dinner and were sitting
around the kitchen table. "Why can't we just go on like now?"
She gave him a look. "Because I
told you so, that's why." It was a sharp response and got the point across.
Tommy actually flinched. She backed off a notch and softened her tone, making
eye contact with them all. "Look, your father and I made an agreement that
when he left he would try to come back occasionally to visit each of you."
She sighed, "I know he hasn't been too good about it, but he wants to come
over this Saturday around 1:00 pm. He'll see you, Tommy, first, then Steve,
then the girls."
Tommy realized he had to be a man
about this. Try to set an example for his brother and sisters. He knew his mom
was counting on him. "Ok," he said, trying to sound upbeat.
"It'll be good to see him." He didn't add the rest of what he was
thinking which was 'I guess.' His mom smiled at him, letting him know she
appreciated that he was willing to try.
To make matters worse, Saturday
dawned cloudy and by the time it was 1:00 pm it had been raining all morning.
Tommy was in the garage cleaning up his bike listening to his radio when his
dad showed up. He was driving a new looking, shining little red sports car.
Tommy had never seen it before. His dad got out and hurried into the garage shaking
the rain from his jacket. Tommy's dad was a tall, good looking man with a trim,
athletic build. His dark hair was showing flecks of grey through his severe
buzz cut hair style. His wore his clothes well, and today had on pressed khaki
pants, wing tip shoes and a crisp, blue, dress shirt. He smiled when he entered
the garage as he approached Tommy.
"Hey there, sport, good to see
you." He stuck out his right hand and with the other slapped Tommy on the
shoulder. He had to admit, it felt good to see his dad.
"Good to see you, too," he
said, shaking his dad's hand was then quiet, wondering what else he could say.
The big problem Tommy had with his
dad was the same problem he had with all adults. He didn't know how to talk
with them. Over the twelve years of his life he had been taught to 'be seen and
not heard' by everyone from his mom and dad, to his aunt and uncle, to his
grandparents, parent's friends, teachers at school and teachers at Sunday
school. He had seen the universal 'quiet sign' of the forefinger pressed up
against pursed lips more times than he could count. He had eventually learned
to become comfortable with doing everything he could to keep quiet and stay out
of the way of adults. He avoided getting into trouble that way. But in the
months after his dad had left, Tommy found himself drawn into more
conversations with adults than ever before. Like his chats with his mom and
talking to various of the customers of his little lawn mowing business. Which
was fine. It was kind of fun and sort of a learning experience for him. Made
him feel older. More grown up. But now he was faced with having a conversation
with his dad, someone he was just not used to talking with. It really was
uncomfortable.
"What have you been up to this
summer?" his dad asked pleasantly, trying to be nice and congenial.
"Your mom told me you're cutting lawns." He walked over to the power
lawn mower parked along the side wall of the garage. "Using the old
LawnBoy?" He said it almost reverently. The light green LawnBoy was the
type of lawnmower his dad favored when it came to grass cutting machines.
"Naw...they let me use theirs,"
Tommy answered, knowing he should say more, but he was feeling more and more
out of sorts. He glanced out past the garage, out to the street, as if looking for
some way to escape. It had quit raining and the sun was starting to poke out
through the clouds. He felt like going for a long bike ride. He was actually
sweating. He wiped his brow. "I'm making good money", he finally
blurted out. "I'm saving some of it to buy a car when I turn
sixteen." He was trying to find some common ground. His dad loved cars and
driving.
"Well, it's good to plan ahead,"
his dad said as he looked back to his car in the drive way. "How do you
like my new Austin Healy? It's a 3000."
"It's nice, dad." Tommy
had nothing else to add.
What little Tommy knew about his dad
was that he was a friendly, popular guy. He worked in middle management for a
large local company known for manufacturing various devices used to control
heating and cooling in homes and office buildings. His job required him to be
on the road a lot visiting various of the company's branch offices throughout
the country. He sometimes even traveled to Europe. Tommy had overheard his mom
fighting with his dad about how much he was away. He figured it was probably
one of the reasons his dad had moved out.
They patched together a stilted
conversation for a few minutes more. Finally his dad said, "Tommy, there's
something I need to tell you."
Tommy quickly became alert. "What's
up?" He felt a sense of foreboding.
"Your mom and I are going to
get a divorce," he said without any preamble. He looked Tommy in the eye, "I've
met someone who I care about very much. We are going to get married when the
divorce is finalized."
Tommy's heart rate sped up. Sweat
broke out all over his body. He felt nauseous. He felt like he was going to be
sick to his stomach. All he could think of to do was to ask, "Why?"
His dad just looked at him as a tear
formed and then fell down his son's cheek. "It's just the way it has to be.
You're too young to understand now, but maybe you will when you get
older," he reached out his arm to put it around Tommy's shoulder. "It's
just that I don't love your mom anymore. I've found someone else."
"What about us?" Tommy
asked, shrugging the arm off. He heard the urgent, pleading tone in his voice. It
sounded childish but he didn't care. He was feeling like his world was spinning
out of control. "What's going to happen to us? Are we going to have to
move? What about school and my friends." He spit his words out in a rush.
His throat was closing up. He felt queasy and ill.
"No, son," his dad's voice
was calm and reasonable. "You and your mom and Steve and the girls will
stay in the house. I'll see to that," he said firmly. "I'll try to
make it so it won't be too hard on you all and that things won't change too
much."
If Tommy was better equipped to
express himself he would have probably asked a lot more questions. He would have
probably pleaded with his dad to stay. He would have probably told him how much
he missed him and how hard it was living in the house with him gone. How hard
it was dealing with the emptiness he felt inside. How sad his mom was. How sad
his brother and sisters were. How much he wished things could go back to the
way they were when home felt secure and he felt safe and protected by his
parents. But his dad's words hung in the air like a bad dream that wouldn't go
away. A nightmare. They solidified the fact that his parent's separation and
split up was for real and final. His dad was never coming back. Tommy's life
and that of his brother and sisters and his mom would change forever. And there
was nothing he could do about it. His emotions welled up inside of him. He felt
a rage unlike anything he'd ever felt before. His mind went red with fury. Well,
there was one thing. There was certainly one big thing he could do about it. He
clenched his right hand into a fist and slammed it into his father's chest, who,
caught off guard, stumbled back a few steps gasping for breath. "I hate
you," he screamed, all of his emotions coming out in a rush. "I hate
you, I hate you, I hate you," he yelled some more. He barely registered
the stunned expression on his dad's face. He grabbed his bike and jumped on it,
shifted into first gear and flew out of the garage, out onto the street and
down the hill. He had no idea where he was going. He just wanted to get away. Fast.
It was all just too much.
He eventually found his way to The
Woods. No one was in the spot where he and Kirk usually hung out. It was
peaceful and quiet and he appreciated the solitude. In some brush behind a tree
the boys had hidden a coffee can where they kept their cigarettes. Tommy opened
it up and took out a pack of Kools, shook out a cigarette, grabbed a book of
matches and lit up. Then he put everything away and stashed the can. He sat
back against the tree smoking and going over the events of what had happened in
the garage with his dad. God, what a mess, he thought to himself. I'm for sure
in deep trouble now. Maybe I should just run away.
The afternoon slowly passed. Tommy
watched the sun through the leaves of the trees as it moved across the sky. His
radio had been strapped to his bike so he listened to it, smoked the occasional
cigarette and contemplated his fate. To him his future looked grim. He figured
his mom would ground him for the rest of his life. Who knew what his father was
thinking? He was wondering if he really could ever go home again when a movement
through the trees off to his left caught his attention. He turned. What the
heck? It was his little brother Steve. Tommy stood up. "Hey. What are you
doing here?" He tried to sound angry but didn't have it in him. Truth be
told, it was kind of nice to see him. The two brothers got along pretty well.
"Mom sent me out looking for
you," Steve said, looking around. "Nice place you have here."
In spite of everything that had
happened so far that day, Tommy had to laugh. "Yeah, it is. How'd you find
me, anyway?"
Now it was Steve's turn to laugh.
"Everyone knows about this place. I've just never been before."
"Geez," Tommy sat down,
shaking his head. "Nothing's like it seems anymore."
"You mean mom and dad?"
Steve asked. Even though he was young, Steve
seemed to catch on pretty quick.
"Yeah." Tommy paused for a
long time. "Am I in trouble?" he finally asked.
Steve laughed, "No, not really,
but dad sure is. You should have heard the fight they had."
And Steve proceeded to tell Tommy
about how mad their mom was that their dad had told Tommy about the divorce.
Apparently it was something she wanted to do with their dad with all the kids
together. All at the same time. She
chewed out their dad and then told him to leave. She didn't even care so much
about the slugging as much as getting Tommy home. "I think she'll punish
you, but I don't think she's all that mad at you." He stopped and chuckled
a little. "But, boy, was she ever ticked off at dad."
Tommy took a few minutes to let it
all sink in. The main thing he had been thinking about was the consequences
he'd face after hitting his dad, and now Steve was saying that from their mom's
perspective, it wasn't that big of a deal. Well, it certainly was confusing,
that's all Tommy had to say for himself. But it looked like he might get out of
this only slightly scathed. That was Ok. He started to relax. In the background
the radio played a steady stream of good old rock and roll music. Tommy and
Steve sat there for a while longer, just chatting and listening to the radio.
Finally Tommy stood up and dusted off the seat of his jeans. "Well, we'd
better head out."
"Yep. Time to face the
music."
"Yeah, I guess." Tommy
laughed a little at his brother's attempt at a joke. Then the two of them
walked their bikes through the woods and out to the road. They jumped on them
and headed home, songs from the little transistor radio now a background to the
thoughts circling through Tommy's brain like a twisting tornado, roaring across
the land, destroying everything in its path.
At the end of the day all he could
say was that he wished he understood adults better. That was the thought that
stayed in his brain after he got home, got chewed out by his mom and then got
hugged by her before she sent him to his room to 'think about what he'd done'
as if he hadn't already done that all afternoon. When she called him down to
dinner she put the incident into perspective by telling her children that 'yes,
your dad and I are going to get a divorce, but I', and she emphasized
"I", 'will do everything I can to make sure things around here
proceed as normal as possible'. And that was pretty much that. They all sat
around talking way past dessert and it was kind of nice, the way the family
seemed to be pulling together. Really nice. Afterward Tommy's mom pulled him
aside. "Now more slugging, Ok?" She said. And Tommy assured her he
wouldn't do that again. She still grounded him for a week, though, except for
when he had to go out and cut his customer's lawns. Which all in all he felt
was more than fair. When he went upstairs to listen to some music a little
while later on he could have sworn she had a tiny smile on her face.
Summer
symbolically ended around the first week
of September with Labor Day on Monday and everyone going back to school on
Tuesday. Kirk's parents were going to throw a big party the Saturday night before
and everyone in the neighborhood was invited. It was pot luck, bring your own
everything and the police even agreed to provide barriers to close off the street
that ran in front of Kirk's parent's house to accommodate the anticipated
crowd. The week leading up to the party was very hot and humid. Temperatures
were in the low nineties and the dew points hovered around seventy degrees
making for a muggy, uncomfortable week weather-wise. Mrs. Everson's lawn was
starting to burn out, so Tommy made it a point to go over on days he didn't mow
to check to see if he needed to water and run her sprinkler. She appreciated
him doing that. "Aren't you a thoughtful young man," she said more
than once, causing him to get red and blush with embarrassment. "Yes,
ma'am," was all he could think to say, still having trouble carrying on a
conversation with an adult. Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson had a cabin about two hours
drive north of the city located right in the middle of lake country. When they
were gone they entrusted Tommy with the care of the lawn, weeding the gardens
and making sure Mrs. Sorenson's many bird feeders were kept clean and full.
When he told his mom about the extra responsibility she smiled and gave him a
brief hug. The blow up over the visit with his dad had weathered a course of
its own. There was kind of a mutual agreement between Tommy and his mom that
what was done was done and it was time to move on. He felt just fine with that.
Over at the Rose's it seemed that Mr. Rose was apparently gone from the picture.
He never saw the man. His car was never there whenever Tommy came to cut the
grass. One day he got up the courage to ask about it. "Where's Mr. Rose? I
don't see him around much." Mrs. Rose looked both sad and relieved.
"He's gone away for a rest," she said. "He became over worked at
the college and needed to go away for a while." She seemed to want to let
it go at that. Tommy was glad to oblige. He still took care of the boys
occasionally, though. Every now and then Mrs. Rose went out with some of her friends,
or 'girl friends' as she called them. When she did that she always came home
smiling. Not drunk or anything, just in a good mood. Seeing her happy made
Tommy happy. He liked Mrs. Rose and her two boys a lot and always made sure he
spent some extra time with Willie and Jessie when he'd finished cutting the
grass.
On the Friday night before the day
of the party a huge storm rolled through. Thunder and lightning filled the sky
and some hail even fell. But Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. The
storm has scoured out the heat and humidity and the air felt clean and fresh.
It was going to be perfect weather for the party. During the day Tommy cut Mrs.
Everson's lawn and then his own lawn. Since it was Saturday his mom didn't have
to work. She ran errands to the grocery store, drug store, dry goods store and
the like. Steve and the girls played together in the back yard. Steve supervised
building a fort out of some old card board boxes and the girls even brought out
a bunch of their Barbie dolls and played in the fort with them, much to Steve's
chagrin. Then Steve and Tommy played catch, tossing the baseball back and forth
while the girls played nearby. From inside their mom put away groceries and
watched occasionally from the kitchen window marveling at how well the kids
were doing in spite of their father being gone. Then she sighed to herself,
poured a cup of coffee and sat down at
the table with a newspaper in front of her, not even seeing the page, thoughts
turned inward. After a moment she shook her head, clearing away any negative
images from her mind. Even though life didn't turn out like she'd planned, she
was intent of making the best of it. She called the kids inside for some Kool-Aid.
It was still hot out and she didn't want them to get dehydrated.
"Are you going to Kirk's
parent's party tonight?" She asked Tommy.
"Yeah, I am, if it's Ok with
you."
"It is. Just make sure you're
home by 10:00 pm. That's curfew, you know."
He didn't even try to argue with
her. Usually he had to be home by 9:00. The free hour was golden to him.
"Thanks, mom," he grinned and looked at Steve. "You going?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Maybe. I might just stay here and watch TV. Red Skelton's on."
Tommy grinned. They both liked Red
Skelton. He made them laugh and he could understand Steve wanting stay home.
Even though they'd had the television for a few years, it was still sort of new
to them. "Well, I'm going to the party. Kirk wants me to help out."
Which was an outright lie, but sounded good. Later he wondered why he even said
it.
"I'm just going to stay here
with Steve and the girls," his mom said. "So you be good, you
hear?"
"Yes, mom," Tommy assured
her, just happy to be able to go and stay out somewhat later than normal. His
mom was giving him more freedom as the summer progressed. She said it was
because he was being so responsible. Tommy gladly accepted his mom's growing confidence
in him, feeling like he was not only getting a little older but also growing up
some. Her increased trust in him felt good.
After dinner Tommy checked his hair
in the mirror, said good-bye to his mom, got on his bike and headed over to The
Woods. The plan was to meet Kirk there. On the way over he had his radio on
listening to The Shirelles, the Everly Brothers and all sorts of other good old
rock and roll. The music put him in a good mood. By the time he got to the
clearing in The Woods he was humming to himself, singing along to Freddy Cannon
and a song called 'Palisades Park'. Kirk was there along with a lot of their
friends from the neighborhood. They all sat around for a while smoking
cigarettes, talking and giving each other a hard time. Everyone's spirits were
high despite the fact that on Tuesday they'd have to go back to school. The
general consensus among the boys was that getting to meet new girls in junior
high outweighed having to sit in stuffy classrooms all day long. After the
freedom of being able to be outside all summer the boys were tan and in good
shape. Life really was pretty good. So if life was so good, why did what happen
later on have to happen at all? Tommy asked himself that question over and over
again in the days after the party.
Around 7:30 pm Kirk stood up.
"Let's hit the road boys. There's a party goin' on."
Tommy laughed at the reference to a Sam
Cooke song. "I'm with you. Let's go."
The whole crew of boys rolled out,
racing down the path to the road and then over the winding, curving, hilly
streets of the development to Kirk's parent's house. They parked their bikes
behind the garage and went walking around taking in the scene. Whatever Tommy
may have expected, he sure wasn't prepared for what he saw. There must have
been two hundred people milling around. Scattered down the street were about
ten charcoal grills smoking with hamburgers, hot dog and steaks, manned by guys
wearing chef's aprons, some even wearing a chef's hat. Everywhere he looked
there were coolers of pop and beer. One of the houses on the block had set up a
radio on a table in the garage and had it turned to one of the stations Tommy
listened to and people were dancing in the driveway. It was like a carnival
without the rides, just happy people blowing off steam. Shouts and laughter
filled the air. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. The gang of boys split up
and started wandering around. A lot of them were looking for girls. Kirk
punched Tommy in the arm. "Come on with me," he said. "Let's go
inside where the good stuff is."
Tommy was still gazing at the huge
crowd of party goers and didn't grasp the significance of what Kirk was getting
at. Guys were dressed in madras shorts and short sleeve dress shirts colored
either white or light blue. Women were wearing trim shorts or slacks with sleeveless
tops in every color under the rainbow with yellow and red being the most
predominant. Perfume wafted through the air and mixed with the aroma of
cigarettes. Tommy wished he had the nerve to light up. Kirk waved his hand in
front of his face. "Are you with me, man? Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Let's go," he motioned,
waving his arm. "The kitchen is where the booze is."
This was the point in the evening
where Tommy could have said No. He could have just walked away. He could have
maybe even found a quiet spot, bummed a smoke from someone and had a
contemplative cigarette. But he didn't. For some reason he just said,
"Sure. Why not?"
They snuck around the back of the
house and went in through a sliding glass door that lead to the living room.
The house was filled with people, all smoking and drinking and laughing. They
was a record player on blaring big band music that added to the noise and
chaos. No one paid them the slightest attention as they walked through the
living room, took a right, and went into the kitchen. On the counter stood a
lineup of bottles of booze unlike anything Tommy had ever seen before. Bottles
of whiskey, vodka and gin. Scotch and various bottles of wine. Kirk nudged
Tommy. "What do ya' think? Pretty cool, huh?"
Tommy felt dazed. Completely out of
it. Maybe it was the party like atmosphere, the music, the laughter and the
crush of all the people around him, but he felt like he wasn't even himself
anymore. In his mind flashed visions of the entire summer: the lawns he'd cut,
the conversations he'd had with Mrs. Everson, Mr. and Mrs. Sorenson and Mrs.
Rose and Willie and Jessie. He saw the bluebirds he'd watched with Mrs.
Sorenson and the pretty flowers he'd helped Mr. Sorenson take care of. He heard
Mrs. Everson reading to him from the book she was writing. He saw himself playing
chess with Willie. He even saw himself slugging his dad. He saw how different
he was now compared to the beginning of the summer. He saw himself growing up
and getting older, more mature. He saw himself becoming more responsible. He
saw his mom counting on him more and more. He saw it all in the blink of an
eye, and just as quick, he blinked it all away. He gave Kirk a game
smile."It looks great, man," he said, deciding to be reckless and
take a chance, just for the heck of it. "Let's have some."
Kirk was pretty adept at mixing
drinks. He waited until no one was around and then quickly poured a glass of
coke and splashed some whiskey into it. "Here," he said handing it to
Tommy, "Try this."
Tommy took a sip. It didn't taste
too bad. In fact, it tasted just like coke. "Tastes good," he said,
and took a larger drink.
Kirk laughed. "I just gave you
a little bit." He poured a drink for himself. "Let's go for a
walk."
And that's how the evening went.
They walked around outside watching the party and everything that was going on and
when their drinks were done, they'd head back to the kitchen, get more coke and
whiskey and head out to walk around some more. What Tommy didn't realize,
though, was that with each subsequent drink Kirk was putting more and more
whiskey in with the coke. The sun set and the sky turned from twilight to dark.
By the time Tommy was supposed to go home it was pitch black out and he was so
tipsy that he was having trouble standing up.
Kirk chuckled as he helped Tommy to
his bike. They had moved it to the driveway. "Here you go, man. Ride
carefully, now."
Tommy was carefully trying to
straddle his bicycle seat. The world was sort of spinning, tilting a little.
But he felt wonderful. Felt happy. Felt like he could ride home with no problem
at all. "Man, I feel so good," he smiled at Kirk and draped his arm
over his friend's shoulder. "I've had a great time."
Kirk, who was a little drunk
himself, focused on steadying Tommy's bike. "Best time ever, buddy,"
he agreed. Then asked, "You all set, man?" Tommy nodded. "Then
here you go."
He gave the bike a shove, which
meant Tommy had to navigate down the driveway, then take a left and go down the
street. He made it down the driveway just fine, dodging people and laughing as
he rode. And he made it down the street just fine, too, building up speed and
dodging more people along the way. But by the time he got to the end of the
block things started to go badly. The world started spinning faster and faster
as he hit a slight downhill which soon turned into a steeper hill. He tried to
steer straight but he was losing control. His front wheel was wobbling and he
glued his eyes to it as if willing it to straighten out. At the bottom of the
hill he was supposed to turn right but by then he was out of control. He never
even came close to making the corner. At high speed he flew into the
intersection, heart pounding and adrenaline pumping. He looked up in time to
see a car barreling down upon him from the right, headlights blinding him. He
tried to hit the brakes but his hands didn't seem to want to grip the handles.
He screamed No just as the car hit him catapulting him into the air, it's brakes screeching and horn blaring like a
banshee. The last thing he remembered was seeing his transistor radio spinning just
out of his reach, over and over into the night, and then the world around him
suddenly going dark.
When he came
to he was in a bed that definitely wasn't his. There was stringent, antiseptic
aroma in the air and unfamiliar sounds all around. It was a hospital room. His
mom was asleep in a chair next to his bed. As if prompted by some hidden
motherly intuition, she woke up and let out a muffled yelp. She moved to him and gave him a big hug.
"Oh, Tommy," she said, choking up. "Whatever were you thinking."
And with that she broke down sobbing.
Tommy was in the hospital all day
Sunday under observation. He'd suffered a mild concussion and broken his right
ankle. He came home on Monday morning, got settled and later was surprised by
the steady stream of visitors that started stopping by that afternoon. Mrs.
Everson came by with a book for him to read. "I thought you might enjoy
this," she said, sitting primly in a chair by the bed his mom had made up
for him on the couch in the living room. "The author is Jack London. He
wrote about living in Alaska during the gold rush era around the turn of the
century. This is a book of short stories of his. I used to teach about him in
my English class."
Tommy took the book gratefully. He'd
heard a little about Jack London from his sixth grade teacher. He was genuinely
touched by Mrs. Everson's unexpected thoughtfulness. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Everson. That's
really nice of you," he exclaimed. It was a touching gesture on her part. Tommy's appreciation of
the kindly old lady, which was already high, went up even higher.
After Mrs. Everson left, Mr. and
Mrs. Sorenson stopped by. "Here you go, dear, Mrs. Sorenson said, handing
him a shopping bag. He opened it and inside were a pair of binoculars and a
book entitled, 'Common Backyard Birds.' "I thought you'd enjoy
these," she said with a smile. "When you get better you can come over
and we can bird watch together." Tommy could only nod his thanks, he was
so taken aback. Finally he blurted out, "This is just great." He then
grinned and added, "I can't wait to come over and watch birds with
you." Mrs. Sorenson patted him on the shoulder in an act of kindness and
smiled at him. "We're looking forward to seeing you get better." They
only stayed long enough to fill him in on the bird situation in the yard, and
how the flowers in the gardens were doing. Tommy was surprised at how much he
appreciated hearing the news. As they rose to leave Mr. Sorenson asked how long
he was going to be laid up.
"For a while, I guess," he
responded. "I'll miss the beginning of school."
"I'll bet you won't mind
that," Mr. Sorenson joked and was quickly admonished by his wife.
"Don't you listen to him,
Tommy. You get better and get back to school."
After they left, Mrs. Rose came by.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her expression full of concern.
"I'm Ok." He pointed to
his head which was wrapped with a bandage. "I've got a mild concussion.
That's why they wanted me to stay at the hospital yesterday." He pointed
to his right leg which had a cast on it. "I also broke my ankle when the
car hit me." He pointed to a pair of crutches propped by the couch,
"I've got to get used to these to walk around."
"You're lucky you weren't hurt
any worse."
Tommy sighed, "Yeah, that's
what my mom says."
After a few minutes she got up to leave.
"Willie and Jessie say 'Hi'."
"Say 'Hi' back to them,"
Tommy said, touched that the boys had thought about him."Tell Willie to
get ready for some chess matches when I get better."
What Tommy had told Mrs. Rose about
his injuries was true. He was also scrapped up pretty badly on his arms and
legs. The concussion was what concerned the doctors the most. The way it was
told to him by his mom, who got the story for the police, was that when the car
hit Tommy it broke his ankle. He then bounced up over the hood, hit the
windshield with his head and rolled off the back of the car into the street.
Fortunately there were no other cars behind him. He might have been run over
and killed. Tommy had shivered at the thought when she told him.
Tommy's mom was with him almost
constantly throughout his stay in the hospital. Between visits from the
doctors, the nurses and people just stopping by out of curiosity, they didn't
get a chance to talk much. The accident had made the news. Tommy was
semi-famous in a way he loath to accept. He was honestly embarrassed and chagrined
by the whole thing.
It felt good to be home resting on
the couch. After his visitors had left for the day his mom sat down next to him
wanting to talk about Saturday night.
"I still don't know what you
were thinking," she said, her voice full of disappointment. "Whatever
possessed you to do such a thing?"
Tommy had given that night a lot of
thought. Unfortunately he didn't have a good answer. Which wouldn't do for his mom.
He knew that. "I really don't know, mom. Something just came over me. Once
I started drinking the drinks, I just couldn't stop." He didn't tell her
that he didn't stop because the initial feeling of inner warmth and well being
was a feeling he really liked. He didn't think that would go over too well with
her.
"Well, all I can say is that I
am very disappointed in you, young man. Extremely disappointed." Tommy
knew his mom cared deeply about him and right now she was mad but there was
something more. He could tell. Her look was one he'd never seen before. It was
a look of sadness. Sadness directed toward him. He'd let her down, and he felt
horrible about that.
"I'm so sorry, mom. I'll never do
anything like that again."
"I wish I could believe
you." She stopped and looked hard at him. "You know I need to count
on you to help out more now that you father is gone. I have to be able to trust
you."
Tommy took in her words. He tried to
understand what she was saying. He got the feeling that he couldn't just write
off his actions as the experimentations of a stupid kid. He was getting older
and with that came more responsibilities. He was going to have to make more of
an effort to toe the line. To be more mature. To act more adult. "I'll do
my best, mom. I don't want to disappoint you again."
She rose from the chair and came to his side and gave him a hug. "I know, Tommy. I just have to be able to trust you, Ok?"
She rose from the chair and came to his side and gave him a hug. "I know, Tommy. I just have to be able to trust you, Ok?"
He stiffly put an arm around his mom's
shoulder. "I promise I won't do anything like that again, mom," he
said. "Really. I Promise." In the back of his mind, he really wanted
to believe it.
She stood up, brushed her hand over
his forehead and bent to give him a kiss on his cheek. "I know you
will." She smiled at him. "You rest now. Call me if you need
me." Then she walked out of the living room and went through the door into
the kitchen.
Tommy lay back feeling exhausted. Outside the
sun was setting to the west. The day had been pretty hectic for him and it was
nice to lay back and close his eyes and just rest. Which he did. When he awoke
it was dark out. Someone had turned on the lamp on the table by the couch.
There was also a vase full of flowers next to him. He stretched over to see who
sent it. On the card was the simple word, 'Sorry'. It was signed by Kirk. Tommy
figured Kirk's parents had sent them but he appreciated the gesture. He lay
back again. What a summer it had been. So much had happened. He felt he was a
different person from who he had been when the summer began. He'd had a job and
he'd earned money. He'd sort of made friends with the adults he worked for.
He'd punched his dad, the thought of which, once repugnant, now made him smile.
He'd gotten drunk and almost killed himself. Man, he thought to himself, it was
a lot to take in. And to top it off, junior high was starting. Life was getting
complicated but he figured he'd learn how to deal with that as time went on.
Learn how to handle getting older and acting more grown up. People like his mom
were expecting it of him and now he was expecting it of himself.
But right now he was just tired. On the
table by his head his mom had left his transistor radio. It was scrapped up
from the accident but it still worked. Tommy turned it on, kept the volume low,
and closed his eyes, listening to that good old rock and roll music that he
liked so much. Ben E. King was singing 'Stand By Me'. He rested in the quiet
room envisioning riding his bike down a long, cool, tree lined country road,
out to a place he'd never seen before. A place where not much was going on and where
life was simple. A place where for only a little while he could feel like he
could be young again and just be a kid.
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