Heavenly Hoboes

by Bob Brewer

Munroe Washington had brought out a rocking chair and had planted a huge umbrella to sit under while he directed traffic away from his parking lot. The pasture was packed with motorhomes, pickups and cars of every vintage. Munroe had crayoned ‘Full’ on the side of a cardboard box that sat beside him, but people were still trying to get in. He was busy making another sign when Abe and Shorty along with Horace headed to the park. Munroe’s wrinkled face came aglow and broke out in a wide smile that said he was the happiest man alive when he saw Abe and Shorty coming down the highway toward him. For a man his age he was surprisingly quick on his feet. He jumped up and met them before they got to the arch at the park entrance. “’Scuse me, Mistah,” he said to Abe in his thick drawl. “You’s Abraham ain’t yuh?”

  Abe nodded and said, “I am.”

  Munroe held out a shriveled hand, and Abe shook it. “I’m sho nuff glad to meet yuh, and you, too,” he said, looking at Shorty. He patted Horace’s head then pulled Abe aside and turned them away from the park. “You boys needin’ to be careful,” he said in a whisper voice. “Come on ovuh here and talk with me fuh a spell.” He took a firm grasp on Abe’s arm and led them to a trailer behind his hay barn. “I been listenin’,” he said, pointing towards the park. “And some of dem folks’d like nothin’ better than to strang you two up. They a rough bunch ovuh there.” He opened the trailer door and ushered them inside.

  “How come you’re trying to help us,” Abe asked, perplexed by the warning and Munroe’s evident concern.

  “You seen my pasture,” Munroe answered. “It’s sho nuff a miracle. We’s ‘bout ready to lose the farm ‘til you boys come down the pike and brung the Lawd with yuh. Yes suh, it’s a miracle, all right.”

  “Then you believe us, huh?” said Abe.

  “Ain’t no doubt,” Munroe said, shaking his head adamantly. “I ain’t seen Him myself, but I knows He’s here.” He opened a paper sack that was lying on the table and took out a handful of stuff that looked like matted hair. “I sent my boy, Jesse, to the sto this mornin’ to get these fuh yuh. He been out lookin’ fuh yuh all day. I was sho prayin’ I’d ketch yuh befo yuh got all tangled up in that mess ovuh there. Here take these, they fake but they sho nuff look real. Go ahead, try ‘em on.”

  Shorty took one of the balls of hair and shook it out. It was a beard, gray in color and well over a foot long. “You expectin’ us to be wearin’ these?” he said then chuckled at the thought of how he and Abe would look in them. Munroe grinned and Shorty grinned back at him. “Well, I suppose they would be concealin’ us a bit,” the little man added with a questioning look at Abe. “What do ya think, Mr. Douglas?” He held the beard up to his chin, and Abe laughed.

  “You actually went out and got these for us, Mr…”

  “Munroe, jes plain old Munroe,” the old man answered with a nod. He reached over and patted Abe’s hand. “I sho wouldn’t want nothin’ to be happenin’ to you boys if there was somethin’ I could do about it. Yuh know, some folks might think differently, Mistah Douglas, but Munroe Washington is a God fearin’ man.”

  Abe returned the pat. “If that means you love Him, Mister Munroe, I’m sure the Lord already knows that. And it was mighty good of you to get these for us.” He turned to Shorty. “Let’s try them on, Mr. McDougal.”

  Munroe helped them glue the beards in place then brought out another package and took off the lid. “Now these’ll put the final touches on yuh,” he said, taking out a pair of long, black frocks and handing one to each of them. While they were holding them up for inspection, the old man dug deeper in the box and pulled out two wide-brimmed, black hats. He stuck them on Abe and Shorty’s heads then laughed with a rich, robust laugh as though it had been bottled up inside him for thirty years. “I swear, Mistahs, ain’t nobody gonna recognize yuh now!” He slapped a hand on his thigh and laughed some more. “I sho wish Jesse was here to see yuh. You’s a sight to behold.” They all had a good laugh at how ridiculous they looked before Abe opened the trailer door and stepped onto the rickety box Munroe used for a step.

  “You come over and join us in a little while, Mister Munroe. And bring your son with you,” Abe said as they thanked him and bid him goodbye. “I’m pretty sure the Lord’ll be there.”

  The old man gave them each a hug. “The Devil hiself couldn’t keep me away. You jes leave yuh jackets and yuh dog with me. I’ll take good care of ‘em, and I’ll be ovuh in a little bit to keep an eye out fuh yuh.”

  Abe and Shorty entered the park looking like two forlorn refugees from a different part of the world. Everyone they came close to stared at them but no one from either group of picketers at the archway stopped them or even bothered to try to talk to them. Neither Abe nor Shorty had given any thought to what might be awaiting them there, and the size and attitudes of the crowd astonished them both.

  “I’m thinkin’ it’s a good thing that fella caught us, Mister Douglas,” Shorty said, referring to Munroe. “Did ya take notice of how them people back there was throwin’ eye daggers at each other?”

  Abe nodded then shook his head. “This can’t be what the Lord had in mind, Mr. McDougal,” he said in a disappointed tone. “I expect a lot of those people are friends and neighbors, don’t you?”

  “Neighbors, maybe,” the Irishman said.

  “I meant before we got here. They were probably friends then.”

  Shorty stopped him. “Yer sayin’ we caused all this, Mr. Douglas, but we didn’t, so, don’t be layin’ the blame on us. It’s the Lord that brought it all on. And like ya said, the Lord has a reason fer everything he does. Isn’t that what ya told me?”

  “Yeah, that’s what the Captain said,” Abe agreed. “It just seems a shame, you know. All these people ought to be happy and dancing and hugging each other and everything. They shouldn’t be fighting and feuding like they are. That’s what I don’t understand.”

  “Well,” Shorty started, but stopped to scratch under his nose. “This thing’s driving me nose to ruin,” he said, and began a search of his pockets for a handkerchief.

  “It’s in your jacket over at Mister Munroe’s,” Abe said, and managed a small chuckle. Then changing the subject and answering to the unmistakable aroma of freshly popped corn he said, “I’m awful hungry, how about you?”

  Shorty looked around them. There was food and drink stands set up everywhere. “Looks like the Lord knew it was gonna be a lean day fer us. Ya know, we haven’t had a bite since breakfast?”

  They bought some hotdogs and colas and took them over to the bandstand. There, they sat on the low platform to have their dinner and watch the crowd, and try to make some sense of the whole thing. How the simple act of introducing the Lord to people could turn out to be such a complicated affair was beyond their comprehension.

  People by the hundreds had gathered for what should have been a glorious celebration, but all Abe and Shorty saw were a multitude of solemn faces, some drawn with anxiety, others slack with boredom. Only the children, it seemed, were somewhat happy. They were chasing each other and climbing all over the bandstand, letting loose with a freedom the older folks couldn’t show. Midvale by nature was a quiet town and there wasn’t really much for the older folks to do except stand around.

  Once the visitors had seen the chicken ranches and processing plants, they had pretty much seen all that Midvale had to offer; so most of them passed the time milling around the park, eating fast-foods and buying knickknacks from the makeshift stands. Amazingly, the local entrepreneurs had turned the place into a mini flea-market of sundry items. One resourceful fellow had even somehow managed to get a bunch of tee shirts screenprinted for the occasion. ‘I SAW THE LIGHT’ blazed like fire across the chest portion of the shirts. From the number of people wearing them, it didn’t seem to matter that the new wording was placed over the fat sausage logo of Chelsey’s Deli.

  Abe and Shorty stopped their game of counting tee shirts while they ate, and
lent their attention to two middle-aged women coming toward them. “I was right over there, Charlene,” one of the ladies said and pointed to her left as they walked in front of Abe and Shorty. They stopped beside Abe where the lady laid a single long-stemmed rose on the platform then knelt on her knees. “Come on, Charlene,” she said and held a hand up to her companion.

  The second lady looked embarrassed. “Hattie, people are watching,” she said in a low voice without moving her lips.

  People were watching. And, as if they had been waiting for someone like Hattie to make the first move, several of those nearby dropped to their knees and bowed their heads. Seeing this, Charlene joined them, and Abe and Shorty lowered their heads. “Our Father,” Hattie began, and the small group followed along as they all recited the Lord’s Prayer.

  “I thought I’d forgotten that,” Shorty remarked at the conclusion of the prayer. “I haven’t said it in years.”

  “I never did learn it, Mr. McDougal,” Abe answered. “But those are sure some beautiful words. That’d be a nice way to pray.”

  Hattie looked up at them. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help overhearing you. You know it really doesn’t matter how you pray as long as you do it and mean it in your heart.” She got to her feet and turned to face the group of fellow kneelers. “God healed me the other night right where you’re kneeling, and to be very honest with you, I wasn’t even praying for it at the time. You know what I was praying for?” She paused and most of the kneelers nodded. “I was praying to get away. I had brought my grandson to the park to feed the ducks and was getting ready to leave. My knee, that I hurt a few months ago, was giving me fits. It was hurting so bad. Anyway, we stopped here to listen to a young man playing the harmonica…” The beep of a horn interrupted her story. A pickup truck on the paved road from the archway was inching up through the throng of people. “Looks like we’ll have to move,” Hattie said, and started away. The people who were still kneeling got to their feet and followed her.

  “Now that was more like what oughtta be goin’ on,” Shorty said as the pickup came to a stop in front of them. “I hadn’t thought of it, but I suppose it was sort of frighten’ to ‘em. Ya know, when Charlie Belew and the lads had ‘em all hemmed in like they were. Interestin’, though, that the Lord healed whatever was troublin’ her.”

  “I think it was her knee,” Abe said absently, as he watched the men pile out of the pickup truck. “I wonder what they’re doing?”

  Each of the three men grabbed an armful of colored fabric materials out of the truck’s bed and hurried up to the stand. They had ‘Jay-Cees’ embroidered on their denim vests. The first man stopped in front of Abe and stared at him for a second. “You speak English?” he asked, and Abe nodded. “You gentlemen are going to have to move,” the man said. “We’re going to be working here for a while.”

  “Will ya, now?” said Shorty. “What is it ya’ll be doin’?”

  “Got a big show tonight,” the man answered as he set his load down and began to unfurl it. “Now, please move, will you?” The rest of the crew joined him and started hammering up their streamers.

  Abe winked at Shorty and together they walked a few paces away to watch their stage take shape. In a few minutes the bandstand was festooned with red, white and blue bows, streamers and banners, and a microphone had been set up and tested. The stage looked like it was ready for a fourth-of-July picnic.

  “The Lord’ll be pleased with yer work,” Shorty called to the men in the pickup as it backed away from them.

  “And so will the visitors,” Abe said to Shorty.

  The Irishman took his big hat off so he could look into Abe’s face. “Ya are goin’ to hold a meetin’, ain’t ya?” he asked, as if he expected Abe to say ‘No’.

  “As far as I know,” Abe answered, looking out over the crowd. He noticed a little girl with curly golden hair edging her way towards them. She was coming from the archway that was now being deserted by the opposing groups who had manned their stations all day. A small bevy of older playmates behind the girl was urging her forward with giggles and hand motions. “Hi, there,” Abe said as she stopped three feet away and stared up at him, her green eyes radiant in the last rays of the sun.

  “Can I feel yowa beerwd? ” she asked hesitantly. She spoke with a slight lisp and had real difficulty with her ‘Rs’; they sounded more like they had a ‘W’ attached them.

  Abe hunkered down to be more her size. She was, he guessed about four years old, and she looked as though part of her would have rather not ventured this far. “Sure,” Abe answered, and held an end of his long beard out for her. She touched it.

  “That feels wieurd,” she said, then smiled at him. She smiled with her entire face, deep dimples punching into her rounded cheeks. “My name’s Victowia and I’m a cow guwrl.” She pointed behind Abe and nodded at Shorty. “They said he’s God but I think theywre wong. You know what?” she said, shaking a finger at Abe. “I think yowa God.” Her eyes widened and sparkled as though she had just surprised herself. Her smile captivated him.

  Abe leaned forward. “Why would you think that?” he asked.

  “’Cause yowa tallewr,” she said, sincerely.

  Abe and Shorty both laughed. “No,” said Abe with a slight shake of his head. “I mean why do you think I’m God, and not just a man like your father?”

  “’Cause yowa vewry old.”

  “Oh,” Abe said. He smiled but she couldn’t see it. “Well, I am old, but I’m not God,” he said, then pointed to Shorty. “He isn’t either. But the real Lord will be here in a little while. And you know what?” She shook her head. “When you see Him you’ll know who He is. You won’t have to ask. You can tell your friends that, too.”

  The Jaycee’s truck was back, beeping and snailing its way again to the bandstand. Hurrying just in front of the truck was the frantic figure of a lost mom. “Victoria? Victoria?” she was yelling in a high-pitched voice.

  Shorty raised a hand and motioned to her. “Would ya be lookin’ fer this one?” he called. The mom set her sights on him and came running over.

  “God bless you, Rabbi,” she said panting, when she saw her daughter.

  “Thank you,” Shorty said. “But we’re not who yer thinkin’ we are.”

  The lady put a hand to her mouth. “Ooh, I’m sorry Father,” she excused her mistake.

  Abe stood. “We’re not priests either,” he said.

  “His whiskewrs awr wieurd, Mom. You want to feel them?” said the little girl. Her mother looked down at her then grabbed her hand.

  “How many times have I told you not to talk to strangers, Victoria?” She pulled the little one to her and picked her up. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You’re in big trouble, child.”

  Abe stood. “Don’t be too hard on her, Ma’am,” he said, taking his hat off. “She was just curious.” He ran a hand down the length of his beard and chuckled. “I guess I can’t say I blame her.”

  “Coming through, coming through,” the Jay-Cee’s voice interrupted them. “You folks are going to have to move out of the way.” He was carrying an armful of chairs this time.

  “What is it ya’d be up to now?” Shorty asked.

  “No time to talk,” the man said, and jerked his head to one side. “Just move out of the way, old timer.”

  Shorty stood his ground. “I ask ya a simple question,” he said. “This bein’ a public park and me bein’ the public, I’m thinkin’ it’s me right to know. Now, what are ya doin’?”

  Victoria’s mom took the opportunity to melt into the crowd. In leaving, Victoria smiled once more at Abe and gave him a wave. “Bye,” she called over her mother’s shoulder, and they were gone.

  The Jaycee set his chairs down and squinted his eyes at the determined little man. “There’s several dignitaries from out of town on their way here, if you must know. Most of them are elderly, so we’re fixing them up wi
th seats. Is that okay with you?”

  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Shorty said, stepping to one side. “Carry on, young fella.”

  “Who do you suppose is coming?” Abe asked Shorty as the Jaycees went about getting the row of chairs lined up and cordoned off.

  “I don’t have the slightest inklin’,” Shorty answered. “But me bones are tellin’ me it ain’t gonna be all that good fer ya. Ya know, we could be sneakin’ out if ya’ve a mind to.”

  “We can’t do that, Mr. McDougal,” Abe said, shaking his head. “I just made up my mind. We are going to have a meeting and the Lord is going to be here.”

  Shorty rolled his eyebrows up. “I ain’t doubtin’ ya, Mr. Douglas, but how is it ya figured that out?”

  “I didn’t, Mr. McDougal. It was that little girl,” Abe said. “The Lord’s not going to let her down. Did you see her face?”

  “I did, Mr. Douglas. She’s an angel if I ever saw one. Not that I have, mind ya. It’s just an expression, you see?”

  “That’s all right, Mr. McDougal. I understand what you’re saying. But He’ll be here for her and for everyone else. Let’s just stand off to the side and wait for them. I expect whoever’s coming will be here pretty soon.”