Presidential Shadows

by Michael Cantwell

Christmas and New Year’s Day came and went. Mom was upset my brother refused again to come home for the holidays. She rarely left the kitchen. When Mom is upset, she bakes. On Christmas Eve, Dad asked her not to make so many cakes and cookies because his work pants were already too tight. Mom told him not to drink so much beer.

  One the surprises stuffed in my stocking was a pristine Reggie Jackson rookie card with four sharp corners. It was a nice gesture from Santa to leave it, but I still wanted Greg’s card. I guess Santa didn’t realize that part. Still, I was still happy to add it to my growing collection.

  Two days before break ended, I spent the afternoon playing in the snow. My clothes were wet. My toes were well beyond cold. I knew dinner was approaching. I still had time for a few more runs down the snow-covered road with Dad’s old Flexible Flyer.

  As I was yanking the sled up the hill, an older man came up from behind me. He had a bad cough. His voice was gargled. He didn’t look well. He began to walk along side of me. I tried to speed up my pace.

  “Slow down, Alex,” he said. “We need to talk. I too stayed out in the cold longer than I should have and never recovered. Few remember the battles I won against the Indians opening up the frontier for the settlers. They only remember I died in office. Go home. Read the notes from William Henry Harrison scrawled in your book. Have your mother prepare a warm cup of milk for you.”

  I was going to tell the sickly looking man to mind his own business, but before I could, he was gone. He only followed me for thirty seconds, but he made his point. I was shivering. I made one more run to the bottom of the road before heading inside.

  Once inside, Mom was furious. “How many times have I told you once your clothes are wet you are to come inside? Do you want to catch pneumonia?”

  All I heard after that was blah, blah, blah. Once she was done unloading on me, she heated up some hot chocolate and ran warm water in the bathtub. She never could stay mad at me for too long.

  While in elementary school, I had a hard time making friends. Maybe I was too shy or maybe I never tried hard enough. I never thought about it much. People always told me I was a friendly kid. I wanted more friends. I was just as happy spending time reading as I was playing outside. Mom taught me to read hard books at a young age. She would push me to read and read, while Dad pushed me outside for some fresh air.

  “It’s not good for the kid to always be inside, Maureen,” Dad would balk at Mom.

  I think it’s why I stopped at the park many days on my way home from school. I was outside. Most days I was alone doing homework or reading. However, I could honestly tell Dad at dinner I spent time in the park.

  My grades were good all through elementary school. Science was not my favorite subject. I did well in geography and was the best speller and reader in class. I also had high grades in art. My art teacher Miss Sharon told me I had a vivid imagination. She suggested it was why I did so well in art class.

  A couple of weeks after returning to school from our holiday break, our teacher Mrs. Haberbacky starting sobbing during science class. Brian Midden, the teacher’s pet, handed her a Kleenex. It didn’t help. Our teacher began bawling her eyes out until she left the classroom. Minutes later, the school principal arrived.

  “Class, today is the anniversary of the Challenger disaster. Does anyone here know what happened?”

  Linda Allen jumped from her seat raising her hand and yelling out, “Me, me, me.”

  “Yes, you with your hand up, what can you tell us?”

  Linda could barely control herself. That was typical of how she answered every question, not only Principal Burrell’s.

  “There was a rocket ship, and it blew up over the ocean. Some lady teacher died.”

  “Not bad,” Burrell said. “That’s pretty close, young lady. It was a space shuttle and several people died when the ship exploded soon after takeoff from Cape Canaveral in Florida. The teacher who died was Christa McAuliffe. Mrs. Haberbacky and Mrs. McAuliffe were close friends in college. Today is the anniversary of that event. It has upset quite a few around here. So please take out a book and read or finish any assignments that are not complete. Mrs. Haberbacky will return shortly.”

  I tried to read my magical book while Greg flung spitballs at Linda. Principal Burrell sat behind the teacher’s desk reading the newspaper. I was happy I was out of range of the spitballs. I didn’t want any part of that mess. I continued to read. Two others joined in with Greg, flicking small gooey pieces of paper at any girl in close proximity. Once Janet Brandt, who had her head down, realized her red hair was littered with spitballs, she let out a screech.

  “Oh yuk, who’s the disgusting pig?”

  Greg and his two cohorts across the aisle from Janet couldn’t hold back their giddiness. It earned them each a trip to the Principal’s office. Principal Burrell told us since it was close to recess time; he would release us to the schoolyard.

  I took my book outside and sat alone reading on a cold bench. The ground still had some snow left on it from a recent snowstorm. It was a gray and gloomy day. The weather matched the mood around school.

  A man with a blue sport coat and tan pants wearing a big smile walked over and sat next to me. His brown hair was perfect. He looked about the same age as Dad. I wasn’t sure why he was sat next to me. I was beginning to get used to having people appear after I started to read from my magical book. I was no longer scared when they arrived.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear the Principal speak about a space shuttle. May I ask what that is?”

  His voice had an accent like a couple of the players for the New England Patriots. Dad told me a story the Patriots played a game against my favorite team the Miami Dolphins. The Patriots had a snow blower machine come off the sidelines and clean a space for the kicker to kick a winning field goal. The Patriots beat the Dolphins 3-0. Ever since Dad told me that story, I’ve been a Dolphins fan.

  The man frowned and tapped his index finger on the bench. “Hello, did you hear me? What is a space shuttle?”

  “I don’t know too much about it, mister. It looks like an airplane, except it goes higher into space. It orbits the world then lands back on earth. A couple of times, Mom made me watch the shuttle take off when they had it on the television.”

  The man looked up towards the sky for a few moments before turning towards me. “My dream was to be the first to land on the moon.”

  “You wanted to be an astronaut?” I asked the man who had a tan in winter.

  The man smiled and again looked upward. It was late morning but you could still see the moon barely visible. “No,” he said. “I pushed Congress to allocate funds for NASA to share my dream of reaching the moon before the turn of the decade.”

  “I’m confused, sir. Unless all the teachers and Grandpa Frank have been fibbing to me, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin already walked on the moon. Everyone knows what Neil Armstrong said when he put his foot on the moon, ‘That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind’. Mom says Mr. Armstrong said, ‘That’s one small step for a man, not for man,’ but we have posters everywhere that says for man. I like learning about space stuff.”

  The man scratched his head before turning to look at me. He looked confused. “Are you telling me the United States of America has landed a rocket on the moon and successfully returned? And Neil Armstrong was aboard? Why, Neil has been an astronaut since the Gemini program. Outstanding news. And yes, that would have been a giant leap for mankind.”

  “You really don’t know your history, do you, mister? I thought everyone knew we landed on the moon on July 20th, 1969. Grandpa Frank told me as long as we beat the Rooskies to the moon, he didn’t care what day it was.”

  “It drove me crazy when the Russians put Yuri Gagarin in space.” He looked up at the sky again.

  “One night when we were watching The Honeymooners, Ralph told Alice he was going to zing, blam, send her to the moon. Grandpa told me all about how President Kennedy was the first president to try to g
et us to the moon. He said he never liked Kennedy too much except for his pretty wife. Grandpa said Kennedy didn’t take crap from the Rooskies. It had something to do with pigs. But I was laughing so hard at Norton fighting with Ralph on the TV, I didn’t pay close attention.”

  “Your grandfather sounds like a wise man, Alex, other than not voting for me. Hey, would you like to know a secret about outer space? I have personally seen the aliens stored at Area 51 in Nevada. That’s a big reason why I thought we needed to advance our space program.”

  I had to stop and think about what the man had told me. I was talking with President Kennedy. I should have known. I was reading about him in my book before he sat next to me. I wanted to hear about the aliens.

  “No kidding, Mr. President. There really are aliens here on earth? I told stupid Greg aliens existed. I mean who can look at the stars at night and think we are alone in the universe? Dad always says that Michael Jordan is too good to be human. Dad thinks Jordan is an alien. Dude, did you see Terminator 2? There’s some awesome aliens in that movie.”

  “Let’s keep the alien invasion our secret, Alex. Greg and your father don’t need to know. Who is Michael Jordan?”

  “He’s the guy on the Wheaties box. Dad says he’s a freak and no one can stop him on the basketball court. Grandpa likes David Robinson because he was in the navy. I root for Magic Johnson because he never looks where he passes the ball. I’ll never be able to play like those guys but they are fun to watch.”

  The man smiled. “I wasn’t much of a ballplayer though I did follow the Sox when I could. I was busy with school, then the navy. I tried to get into the army but with my bad back they wouldn’t allow it. I joined the navy and reinjured my back one night when a Japanese destroyer rammed our boat, PT 109. I assisted some of the crew injured in the wreck to shore. We were later rescued.”

  “Whoa, that musta been scary. I’m not a good swimmer. I was learning how to swim in our neighbor’s pool but one of the other boys peed in it and we were told we couldn’t swim in it anymore.”

  The man laughed then frowned. “Yes it was quite a harrowing experience. I prayed through the early morning hours while we were swimming to safety. I am convinced that God saved us. Do you believe in God, Alex?”

  “I guess. Mom and Dad make me go to church. Sometimes Dad stays up too late drinking with his friends and so only me and Mom go. Dad says he prays by himself while we’re in church. I want to believe him, but I’m not sure he does.”

  President Kennedy crossed one leg over the other on the bench. He winced as he did. He stared at me. His tone sounded sincere as he began to speak. “I was raised Catholic. People didn’t want to vote for me because of my faith. Don’t ever allow others to change who you are because they don’t share your beliefs. Do that for me, Alex. Promise me you will always be true to who you are as a person.”

  “If you say so, Mr. President. But right now, I need to study. Mom keeps telling me I’m going to be a great leader one day. I just wanna get a hundred on my spelling quiz. Can we talk another time?”

  “Of course. You study now. Next time we meet, maybe I’ll tell you about the times I played tricks on my younger brothers. Teddy was such a cry baby when I would give him wedgies.”

  “Before I start studying, do you have any advice for me, President Kennedy?”

  He looked towards the sky again. “I have two bits for you. First, the time to fix the roof is when it’s sunny and second, forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.”

  He vanished. The school bell rang for us to return to class. Mrs. Haverbacky returned wiping her nose with a tissue with one hand and extra tissues clutched in her fingers in the other hand. She apologized for leaving the room before telling us the story about where she was when the space shuttle carrying her friend exploded. She told us there would be certain times in our lives we would never forget. For her, the space shuttle exploding was one of them.

  That night at dinner, I asked Mom and Dad if they remembered the space shuttle blowing up. Dad kept eating his spaghetti. Mom finished chewing and took a sip of her tea before answering.

  “I was in the other room watching the whole thing. It was so sad, those poor people. I started crying. Your Grandmother Helen called from Baltimore. She was watching it too. Everyone was in shock for days. Why do you ask?”

  “Mrs. Haverbacky was friends with the lady teacher who got blown up. She was crying all day. Principal Burrell had to come take her place for a little while. Greg was shooting spitballs at Janet. He was in the Principal’s office until after recess.”

  “I don’t understand it,” Mom said. “Greg’s mother is such a sweet woman. She’s always the first parent to volunteer whenever we need something. I just don’t know where Greg gets his wild side.”

  Dad belched and rubbed his belly. “I agree. It must be from the other side of the family. That woman is a real looker. It can’t be from her side.”

  “Steven!” Mom shouted.

  “What?” Dad said. “I’m just saying from what I’ve seen the woman knows how to fill out a dress. Can’t a man pay a woman a compliment anymore without being yelled at?”

  Mom and Dad began a staring contest. I ate my spaghetti as fast as I could then hid in my room. I didn’t bother to ask for dessert.

  After taking a hot bath, I heard my parents raise their voices with each other downstairs. It made me upset when I heard them argue. I wanted it to stop. I thought if I jumped in bed and grabbed my book I wouldn’t hear them fight. As I did, I noticed a man sitting at my desk. He was a tall man with an ugly black coat. Like the one Andrew Johnson wore.

  “I guess it makes it hard to study with your parents arguing,” he said. “That might be why I never got married. Then again I traveled so much, it was difficult to meet the right woman. I was born in Pennsylvania, but I spent years abroad in Russia and Great Britain at the request of the presidents I served.”

  I was tired and was in no mood to talk with any more old people. However, he was right. I couldn’t sleep when I knew my parents were arguing. It was best I talked with the man.

  “Mom and Dad don’t fight much. I think it has something to do with Greg’s mom’s dress.”

  “People do tend to argue about the strangest things, Alex. While I was president our best legal minds on the Supreme Court couldn’t even decide who was a citizen and who wasn’t. By a 7-2 ruling, the court stated that slaves, even if they have become free, weren’t considered a full citizen. It is called the Dred Scott decision.”

  The yelling from downstairs stopped. I could hear the television blaring. Mom was watching Murphy Brown. I doubted Dad was watching it with her. He never watched Murphy Brown. He would watch Major Dad and Coach with me. Sometimes, Mom would watch Full House with me. The old man was now walking around my room.

  “People were fighting everywhere,” he said. “The Republicans would pass a bill in the House of Representatives and the Democrats in the Senate would kill it. I did everything I could to make them get along. Nothing worked. I even appointed people from both parties to my cabinet. Nothing made Congress happy.”

  “I argue with people in my class, especially this kid named Greg. Don’t ever make a bet with him. He won’t pay up.”

  The man moved closer to my bed. He was staring at the book I was reading. “That looks like an interesting book, Alex. Where did you get it?”

  “Grandpa Frank gave it to me for my birthday. He told me it was a really old book and very special. He told me never to take it out of the house. I do.”

  The man scratched his neck under his white shirt. “You should treasure that book. Don’t let anyone else read it. When you read the notes written by James Buchanan you will understand how I knew it was only a matter of time before our nation would be divided. I hope we will eventually come to grips with slavery.”

  “I guess I don’t really know what slavery means. Dad makes me do my chores on weekends. He says as long as I live under his roof, they are his rules an
d I gotta do as he says. But as soon as I’m old enough, I’m going to move out. Was your son your slave too?”

  “Bite your tongue,” the man said. “I never had children but I would never sell my own flesh and blood to work as a slave. However, someone needs to work the fields. What are we to do?”

  “I don’t know all about the slaves from where you come from, sir, but being a slave must not be too bad. I hear Dad’s friends say they work for slave wages but they live in big houses and drive nice cars. I’m kinda confused about how much slaves are paid.”

  “Now you have me confused, young man. Slaves are the property of plantation owners and a few others who can afford to purchase one. The slaves are at the mercy of their owners.”

  I had to think about this. I thought slaves were people like Mom who complained about having to do housework or Dad’s friends who wanted to make more money. “You mean you guys would buy people and they had to work on plantations, whatever they are, for other guys like you?”

  “You make it sound all so uncivil. These are Africans delivered to us from mostly other Africans. Their owners house them and feed them. I realize there are many who are opposed to such arrangements. That is why I am convinced one day our country will be torn apart by war over slavery.”

  “I wouldn’t want anyone to own me, mister. I might want a robot so it could do all my chores for me on weekends, but I don’t think I want to own anybody.”

  The man crossed his arms and tapped his foot. He tilted his head. “Now you understand why I had a difficult time leading the United States while I was president, Alex. Half of our nation felt exactly like you. The other half found it perfectly normal for one man to own another. It is the great debate of our time.”

  My head hurt trying to understand why others wanted to own other people. It was time to shut off the light and get some rest. As I shut off the light, the man disappeared. I closed my eyes and thanked God I was free, except for my chores on weekends.

  ~~~*~~~

  Chapter Four