“Words are so unreliable that when you really want to communicate, signs and gestures are about the only things you can depend on. That’s because no matter what it is you try to say words can only signify and hint at your meaning.”
Suddenly staring in Hickman’s direction, Cliofus made the sign of the cross, then with a rapid play of his fingers followed with a mixture of the signs and gestures used by deaf-mutes and Indians.
“Better go slow with that sign language, Cliofus,” Buster’s voice warned, “or you’ll make a mistake and insult somebody….”
“I’ll take my chances,” Cliofus called over his shoulder. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is because I’ve learned that signs and gestures are safer than words.
“For instance, when you wave your hand at somebody, they’ll know right away that it means good-bye. Throw a kiss, or hold out your arms like this, and even a baby will get the message. Yeah, but if you say it in words, watch out! Because right away you’ll resurrect the Tower of Babel and have the grapes of wrath pouring down on your head! Don’t laugh, because most words tend to be ambiguous, and damn near all spoken words end up as double-talk!
“Sometimes even the words you hear in church are spoken by preachers who’re unable to speak the Word truly and clearly. That’s why when the words are giving me a fit I often think of a mysterious line I read in a poem which goes,
The word within a word, unable to speak a word,
Swaddled with darkness. In the juvescence of the year
Came Christ the tiger.
Then I wonder about my problem with words and remember stories about a little boy who was said to be a master of words and who preached in this town….”
Feeling sweat erupt from his brow, Hickman moved closer with the thought, That was Bliss! But what on earth is he getting at?
“Like I say,” Cliofus said, “my words cause me all kinds of trouble, but signs are different. But in everyday life if you bow your head and smile, even folks who don’t speak your language will get the idea and smile back—providing it’s not a thug or a redneck. And ladies and gentlemen, I don’t have to remind you that all you have to do is whisper ‘peace’ and that right away you’ll have somebody claiming you’ve declared war and be out to kill you. And I mean with the first thing that’s handy!”
Yes, Hickman thought as the room echoed with shouts of amusement, but while he’s praising signs at the expense of words he’s also double-talking his audience by sending me one kind of message and them another—and was interrupted by a shout of “Yeah!” and saw a tall, heavyset man struggle to his feet from a table near the stage and stand scowling at the audience. And as he strained to see what was happening the man turned, shaking with emotion as he bellowed, “Cliofus is right, and I’m here as his witness!”
“Aw, man, why the hell don’t you take Bert Williams’s good advice and go way, waaaay back and sit DOWN!”
It was a customer at the bar who swayed from side to side as he waved a hand in annoyance.
“That’s right,” a woman called from the other side of the room. “We didn’t come here and spend our money to hear about your mammy-made problems!”
“Okay fellow,” the big man called to his critic at the bar, “you just gimme a second, and when I’m through I’m coming back there and streamline your ignorant butt—you hear me?”
“Oh, I’m listening,” the critic snapped back, “but all I’m hearing is a nowhere stud trying to get him some easy publicity!”
“Oh I’ll have plenty of that after I’m done with you,” the angry man called as he reeled and recovered, “but just now I want to tell Cliofus and the rest of these un-ignorant folks about something which proves what he’s saying—
“Which is this, ladies and gentlemen: I’ve worked for this man I’m about to tell you about for over fifteen butt-busting years. And even if I do say it myself I’m damn good at my job! Anyway, just the other day my boss’s wife was operated on for cancer. You understand me? It was for cancer. So on hearing about it all of us in the crew—black, white, Mexicano, and whatever—we felt sorry for the man. And naturally I felt even sorrier for his wife. Because …”
Pausing to take a quick drink, the man glared toward the bar. “Because while I’d never met the lady, I’ve been told that she has a cast iron—no, that ain’t it. Forgive me. What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been told that she has a nice disposition—very nice—and a heart of gold. So putting myself in her husband’s position, I felt real sorry for him and the lady. Yeah, but when I tried to show how I felt by asking him how she was doing, you won’t believe what happened….”
“All right,” the critic called from the bar, “so what happened?”
“The cat jumps salty! That’s right! Then after looking me up and down like he wants to jump me he changes his mind and threatens to fire me!”
“I knew it,” a woman screamed with a glass rattling bang on her table. “Them folks know less about good manners than a rattlesnake!”
“But wait,” Cliofus called, “wait! Let’s get this straight—he did what?”
Swaying slightly, the man bowed his head, shouting, “You heard me, Cli! He threatened to fire me! And you want to know why?”
“Hell,” the drunk called from the bar, “anybody looking at a stud like you would know the answer to that….”
“Hey, you back there,” Cliofus called, “let him finish! So now, my friend, why did he do it?”
“Because,” the big man said with a throb, “he claimed I was talking … up under … his woman’s … CLOTHES!”
And now as the room exploded with silence Hickman heard the musical gurgling of liquid being poured from a shaker, then someone broke the spell with a snicker which ignited a roar of laughter through which a masculine voice shouted, “I never met his woman, but I been told she—Lawd, Lawd, LAWD!” and the laughter roared even louder.
“Man, man,” the hoarse voice called, “either you’re lying like a lawyer, or that boss of yours is some kind of mindreader!”
“Listen, fool,” the big man shouted, “this ain’t nothing to joke about! He wanted to fire me—and still might do it—when all I was doing was being friendly!”
And now, muttering a curse, the big man took an unsteady step toward the bar, then, changing his mind with a wave of disgust, sat down.
And with a sigh of relief and a quick look at Hickman, Cliofus threw up his palms and said, “So there, quod erat demonstrandum, ladies and gentlemen, you have an example of what I was saying! The woman’s husband couldn’t hear what our friend here was saying simply because his words took over and put a label on who was saying it! All our friend meant to do was express his sympathy, but once his words landed inside his boss’s head they hit the poor man with some simple-minded static and colored up his intention and his meaning! It happens all the time! So with words confusing human relations with that kind of crap it’s no wonder that what folks call social communication is as rude, crude, and snafued as the words historians write down and call history. Words are the root of it all!”
Watching Cliofus sigh and take a sip from his glass, Hickman listened to the discussions set off by the big man’s experience and thought, I have doubts about his theory of words but he certainly has this crowd under control. And if I’m not mistaken he seems to inspire some of them with a freewheeling urge to make public confessions….
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cliofus said, “I know what our friend is talking about, because for a man in my condition it can be even worse. That’s why whenever I find myself in a tough situation I say to hell with words and fall back on gestures. But since I’m not always able to control my body even my gestures can make me look like a fool. Nowadays it’s not so bad, but when I was a kid going to school it could be terrible.
“For instance, I was late getting enrolled in school because I was unusually big for my age and not very social. And while my foster mother had done her best to teach me good manners long before they let me
attend school, when they did it made for all kinds of problems. Because while Miss Janey, the dear lady who raised me, knew that I wouldn’t hurt anybody, the other kids’ parents didn’t. So that left me open to all kinds of tricks and foolishness in which my own ornery words took part….”
Seeing Cliofus stop abruptly and stare into the crowded audience, Hickman thought, He’s counting the customers. Then, resting back in his chair, Cliofus continued in a voice which resonated with an undercurrent of self-amusement.
“Like the time when I was in the third grade and already so big that when I sat at my desk my knees stuck out in the aisles and my head so high that it made the best spit-ball target of anyone in the class. So there I was, when without a word of warning Miss Kindly, our teacher, points at me and says, ‘Cliofus, whooo was the faa-thier of our coun-tree?’ Just like that.
“So I said, ‘I don’t know, ma’am,’ because I really didn’t.
“‘You don’t know?’ she says. ‘Then think a bit, Cliofus.’
“So with all the other kids staring at me like I was a fool I give it a try and say, ‘Miss Kindly, ma’am, is it Him who art in heaven?’
“Well, when Miss Kindly hears that she starts to grin and tries to hide it, but she’s too late because the kids have seen her. And right away all those outlaws like Buster—that’s right, the same Buster, my adopted brother who runs this joint—and Leroy, Tyree, and Tommy Dee are already banging on their desks yelling, ‘Cliofus is a dummy! Cliofus is a pure fool!’ And Miss Kindly is looking at me real disgusted. Then she yells, ‘Quiet, class, quiet!’ and starts to frowning so hard that I’m truly confused and embarrassed.
“Then Miss Kindly says, ‘Cliofus, it’s important that you learn the history of our country.’ Just like that. And I say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
“But being confused, and thinking she’s talking about a Mister History who was also the father of our country, I say, ‘Yes, ma’am, Miss Kindly, I’d be pleased to meet him, ma’am.’ But even before the words get out of my mouth I know I’m up the creek without a paddle. And doubly sure when I hear Jack BooBoo Beau-jack yelling, ‘Hey, y’all, just listen to ole Cliofus! He’s one sho nuff bad granny-dodger this mawning!’
“But although I hear him as plain as day by now I’m losing ground to those ornery words so fast that I hear myself saying, ‘But Miss Kindly, do you think Mr. History would have time to be bothered with somebody like me, ma’am?’
“Not that I was being sassy, you understand, but being so big and clumsy I felt I was a living example of what folks meant when they referred to something as being what they called so doggone unnecessary. For after all, folks had been calling me a fool as long as I could remember, so in those days I didn’t know whether I was or wasn’t. And if I was I didn’t know exactly what kind of fool I happened to be. I just figured that I was pretty lucky to be attending school with the rest of the kids. So you see, the words had betrayed me twice over, and now those fiends in the class were really laughing at me. In fact, it was like during a springtime recess near the last day of school and they’d already busted out most of the window lights.
“So when Miss Kindly hears my question she slams a book on her desk and yells, ‘Boy, what do you mean!’ I really didn’t know what those words of mine would come up with. Then I could feel pain bursting out in the back of my head and everything around me started rushing away like a fast freight train leaving a tramp. And right in the middle of it all I could hear a voice that sounded exactly like mine saying, ‘Why, shucks, Miss Kindly, I’m so full of history that even the dogs know about it!’ And for a second I thought my words were playing a new mean trick on me. But then I realized that it was really Jack BooBoo Beaujack throwing his voice from the back of the room as a signal to those buddies of his to start raising hell. And ladies and gentlemen, if you think kids these days are unruly you ought to have been there!
“Next thing I know Buster jumps out into the aisle doing a buck-dance and singing,
Well, if at first you
Don’t succeed
Just-a keep on a-sucking
Till you do suck a seed!
And before Miss Kindly can call for order ole Tyree jumps up on his desk and after spreading out his arms like a Cicero or Calhoun he yells, ‘Friends, Romans, and countrywomens, lend me your ears: This here Cliofus is a big ape-sweat with too much mustard on his bun!’
“Then he slams his fist in his palm, frowns at me like he’s a judge, and rolls back his lips and shows his teeth like a bad bulldog. And with the other kids yelling and acting up it was truly confusing.
“Because in those days an ape-sweat was what the kids called a certain kind of hamburger patty that had bear meat in it. So when outlaws like Tyree were eating hamburgers and didn’t want anybody to beg them for a bite they’d wrinkle their noses and say, ‘Hey, man, this damn ape-sweat is terrible‘ and eat even faster. But now they sounded like an ape-sweat was the nastiest thing they could think of while wrinkling up their noses and the other kids were scraping their fingers at me and yelling, ‘Phew!’ and ‘He ain’t on my mama’s table’—which was what they did when they smelled something that stunk like a skunk.
“Then Boo-Jack yells, ‘Tell us some more, Tyree,’ and Tyree flaps his arms and struts in a circle and starts pecking his head back and forth like a rooster. Then he frowns like a judge and yells, ‘Honored brothers and sisters, and all you grand-mammy dodgers, Cliofus is a rotten goose egg and soft horse-apple!’
“And with that everybody started clapping and yelling, ‘Yaaay! Cliofus ripped it! He ripped it! He really ripped it like a foool!’
“Then somebody hits the blackboard with a biscuit soaked in molasses, and a big baked yam misses my head and squashes all over the map of the United States which is hanging beside Miss Kindly’s desk on a stand. That’s right, but with all that insurrection erupting, all Miss Kindly was doing was glaring straight at me. The woman didn’t even dodge! Then she yells, ‘Young man, you march right up here and apologize to me and to the rest of the class!’
“But before I could even move Boo-Jack spoke up in his natural voice—which was already as rough as Louis Armstrong’s—and said, ‘Miss Kindly, how come you want Cliofus to apologize? All he’s saying is that he’s chuck fulla brown, and that’s a natural fact. You don’t believe him, sniff him!’
“And with that the whole class exploded, including those little twin sisters whose mama wrapped their braids in gingham rags so tight that they could barely blink their bright little eyes, while the boys were shooting cap pistols and bouncing blackboard erasers off my head.
“Then Boo-Jack yells, ‘Cli’s a good ole boy, but he’s got no brakes or steering wheel,’ and something slimy hit the back of my head and oozed like a snail down the nape of my neck. And when I turn to see what’s happening a barrage of overripe grapes hits me square in the face.
“Oh, yes! They really had my range and were right on target. And with plenty ammunition, thanks to Boo-Jack supplying his outlaw buddies with a whole crate of over-ripe Concords which he swiped from a nearby produce house. So with me twisting and turning and them firing away I could see my white sweater turning purple right under my eyes. It was like it was being stirred in a big tub of dye and the sight started me to gagging. Because I dearly loved that sweater which Miss Janey knitted with her own dear hands. Then as though that wasn’t enough of a disaster, I could feel one of my spells coming on—which wasn’t helped by the way Miss Kindly was banging away on her desk. Because in spite of my condition I also had my sense of pride, therefore I would rather have died than be hit by a spell with all those clowns watching me. So I turned to Miss Kindly and held up my hand the way we were told to do when we needed to be excused. But then my doggone fingers turned against me.
“Because instead of opening they clinched and made it look as though I was shaking my fist at Miss Kindly. And right away I could see her face turn a deep gallish green. Then her eyes started to pop, and with everything around me
growing dark I had a feeling of falling. Then I was lying in the aisle with everything around me whirling in circles. And as I struggled to get up I could hear Miss Kindly yelling, ‘ORDER! ORDER!’
“Which she sure as hell didn’t get, because by the time Miss Janey got the news and rushed there to get me the kids had smeared paste in my hair, poured ink in my ear, pulled the legs of my drawers out of my stockings, and powdered my face with dust from the blackboard. And when Miss Janey saw my condition she gave the school, the kids, and all the teachers hell!”
And I bet she did, Hickman thought as he joined in the laughter, but with a class like that the teacher should have used a baseball bat…. Then, seeing Cliofus hold up his hands for quiet he leaned forward.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Cliofus said, “did you hear what just happened to me? Here I start out to tell you about what happened between the words and a visitor I had just the other day, but instead I end up telling you about some classroom monkeyshines that occurred years ago. That’s one of the ways my words take over, which makes me a man full of word who can’t get in a word although he’s doing the talking. So now from the way a certain distinguished visitor back in the rear has been listening I’d better get back to where I started….”
So he does know I’m here, Hickman thought, and moved from the bar to a closer position.
“At the time this stranger I was telling you about came up on the porch,” Cliofus said, “I was sitting there—so to speak—batting at the flies around my rocking chair and thinking about our condition out here in this ‘New Jerusalem’—which is Miss Janey’s pet name for our state—and I kept thinking these words of a poet I’d read:
Three Days Before the Shooting . . . Page 133