by Sposs, Mike
"Jesus Christ Kevin, do you know what you’re saying? Last time I looked, you were white, for Christ sakes! As far as AFDC goes, remember that I am the product of that system, and I am extremely fortunate for the generosity you fail to appreciate." Pat started to say something about diversity, and stopped herself. "That's what I mean about not knowing you sometimes."
Then Kevin decided he better change subjects. He told her about seeing Matt T again. He told her he was going to go find him again tomorrow. Sooner or later, he would catch him relatively sober. Then he could at least have a conversation with him about things.
Pat circled her arms around Kevin, gave him a gentle kiss, looked him in the eye, and said, "One thing about you is that you are relentless once you get committed."
Kevin replied, "I do have a global theory about that too. Want to hear it?”
"Sure, let me hear it. Maybe, I can understand you better if I listen more and talk less," said Pat.
15. The Terrier
Kevin started out, “I am not insanely proud about being Irish. It’s another accident of birth, and everyone has to be something. My ancestors were Celtic slaves brought to County Cork in southern Ireland from God knows where. The Romans brought them there, gave them some sheep and put them to work. They came back on a regular basis for wool, and hides. They beat the shit out of them and generally intimidated them enough to keep them in fear for their lives. The herders quickly learned that being obsessive about your sheep paid big dividends.
"The rewards come in terms of your sheep success. In the sheep herding business, attention to detail results in healthy sheep, low mortality, high birth rates, and happier slave masters. The masters are not prone to praise. Slave masters never reward you for your efforts; they just don't beat you as much. It's that old negative motivation that most of history is steeped in. These Celtic transplants even bred dogs that were obsessive. Think about it: Border Collies and all herding breeds are bred to the point of being borderline mentally ill."
"The Irish were so goofy that they bred and cherished excessive dogs that also had an attitude. They called them terriers. When you get to the point where you are breeding obsessive dogs with an attitude, then you are Irish. The obsessive gene definitely became dominant with these people. Being that way is great for things like herding; it's a disaster for growing potatoes in a potato famine. You end up with that classic definition of insanity. You keep doing the same thing repeatedly and expect a different result."
"The upshot of all this was that my ancestors were forced to come to America. They retained the gene, which still works great for some things, but not for others. The Industrial Revolution started in England but was powered to a large extent by people with obsessive dominant genes. Put those people on a production line and they go crazy. When they came to America, it was the same thing. Now, there are more Irish people in America than there are in Ireland."
"The world had never seen the production rates we achieved in World War II. I'm not saying the Irish did it; I am saying the obsessive did it. During World War II, we built a Merchant Fleet so huge that nothing in the history of the world could even come close to matching it. I still sail on those ships. Places like the California shipyard in Los Angeles were turning out a liberty ship a day. It's something the rest of the world could never match; and something to marvel at."
Kevin concluded, "We literally produced everything faster than it could be sunk, shot down, or blown up. That was the logistics that won the war. The Merchant Marine had higher per person losses than any other branch of the service. These guys would get a ship torpedoed out from under them. If they lived, they would go sign onto another one. They delivered no matter what. I always liked the war propaganda film Action in the North Atlantic, featuring Humphrey Bogart, and Alan Hale, Gilligan's dad. Talk about a strong resemblence even down to the voice prints."
"The rest of me is French, that's the lover part," Kevin said with a smirk.
"You’re not going to start waving the flag now are you?" she asked smiling.
"No flag waving for me. Remember that obsessive people are mostly iterative thinkers. They go back to the same problem time and time again and keep tweaking it. They may get creative occasionally and borrow an idea from somewhere else and adapt it to another genre, so to speak. Most of the history of invention is about that sort of thing because most people operate at that level," Kevin said.
"The really sharp people are ahead of things by several steps all the time. That would be the people that work at your level. You are in that grand master category that doesn't even let yourself get put in certain situations to begin with because you're ahead of the game and not reacting to it. Another example of the strength you get from diversity is the strength you get from the two kinds of intelligence. Take someone like Matt. He probably was descended from some reindeer herding and milking slaves in Finland. Think you had to be obsessive to survive in that climate?” Kevin asked.
"I am part German, and we are stubborn. We are obsessive, too. You don't get to be a good violinist without obsession. I don't have the attitude that you have. Your whole story is about obsessiveness. You have overachieved by being that way, though. You are perfectly willing to screw yourself over to make a point at times. I don't get that," Pat said.
"Don't I know it? Most of us former street urchins don't kiss any butt. When I talked to Mr. Sharpe the other day he told me that he and your mom were from the same part of North Dakota. He told me about how tough life could be out there. Then, he added he was sure that you could handle me easily," Kevin said with a smile.
Pat replied grinning and making a nutcracker gesture and crunching sound. "I think my hands are big enough to geld you! Seriously, I don't know much about what it was like. My mom never says too much about it. Her family sort of excommunicated her after she got pregnant with me. I was conceived out of wedlock you know."
"I didn't know. You have to admit you have never shared shit with me about your story. I have tormented myself more than once about that too. I'm just glad you are in my life again. Maybe, you will open up one of these days and tell me more. Was your dad's name Clarence by chance?" Kevin asked, seizing the chance to learn more about her.
"My dad had a brother named Clarence. My dad’s name was Dwayne," she said giving Kevin a funny look.
"The only reason I ask is that I read a reference to Clarence Washington in the socialist paper they printed in the city at least when they had the riots," Kevin added.
"He was a labor activist; I am told he had his own paper at one time. I am glad we can joke a little, with each other. You might just be a little wittier than you used to be, or am I just imagining it?" she said with her dazzling grin.
"I still know I am the unarmed one when we have a battle of wits. I am never going to be your equal in that department. We both know it too," Kevin said as he gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"God that feels good. I'll give you two or three hours to stop," She said with a laugh.
Kevin massaged her more. "I suppose playing the violin like that does get you cramped up in the shoulders, neck, and arms. You have pretty good muscle tone by the way, or else you are just tied up in a knot. If it was up to me, this would degenerate into a whole body horizontal massage."
"I predict that is going to happen; it is inevitable, but not today," Pat said.
Then she started in, "Counterpoint is a German invention. JS Bach was the world's greatest at it. The Protestant religion was tied to Bach's music. Maybe, we are partially different because I am a Lutheran and you are Catholic. I know you think Lutherans are all about pain, suffering, and stoicism, but Luther wanted the music of the era to glorify God," she said.
Then she went on about that subject, "With Bach it's about more than counterpoint. In Actus Tragicus BWV 106, he hits B flat minors and F Minors. Nobody ever had that stunning and thrilling swing in mood before. If you match the words to the music, it starts to rip your heart out. Like you said, feeling trumps hearing."
By the time it was over, they had covered Baroque Music. Kevin also got a fascinating lecture about the Enlightenment, Martin Luther, Protestantism, and Prussian history along the way. She told Kevin a story about Bach composing almost extemporaneously a piece of music for Frederick the Great that had ten canonicals in it, like the Ten Commandments. It was his reply to Frederick’s challenge to his music. To Pat, Bach was a genius of such degree that most people couldn’t even grasp his ability.
She concluded her lecture with a story about the great mathematician Leibniz. It is suspected that he carried on an almost lifelong affair with Sophia, the Electress of Hanover. At one point, she wrote to one of her friends that Leibniz had talked to her all night about smaller and smaller increments. Then, Sophia glibly said something to the effect of being totally familiar with small things already. It was a scorching inside joke about her husband.
Pat went on for at least an hour. She had been a Graduate Teaching Assistant in numerous classes, and now Kevin knew why. She was so damn good at it. She would occasionally make her point by playing a piece of music for him and pointing out the notes being hit. She was knowledgeable, and she made it entertaining, too. That she could do this so skillfully and right off the cuff was testament to her knowledge and wit. She had even worked math into it as a touché to his counterpoint remarks, he supposed.
16. Sister Janet
The next day, Kevin got on the bus again and rode it downtown looking for Matt. No dice in the usual places he hung out in. Kevin thought that maybe he hadn't been processed out of the tank yet. He walked into a little greasy spoon place in the area. He was ready for some breakfast. The waitress came over with her pad at the ready. They made eye contact and recognized each other. She was a short stout gal with ample proportions everywhere. The waitress was Willie Smith's older sister Janet. She leaned over the counter took his face into her hands and kissed him hard full on the lips.
"Kevin, you sweet white boy! You have gotten to be a handsome man," she said with a giggle.
She was darker than dark, and Kevin was getting looks from the other customers that ranged from disgust, to shit eating grins. He didn't care, she didn't either. They hammed it up a little more just to irritate the disapproving.
Janet undoubtedly knew the story of how he had helped her brother out, and defended her against some prick. She had been a big sister to the two boys in their younger days. Janet had no problem getting in their faces if she thought they needed it. Like all adolescent boys they did need to be reigned in practically every day. She was about five years older than the boys.
"You know Willie went in the Marine Corps. He ended up spending his time mostly in Okinawa," she said.
Kevin knew that, and also knew that by 1971, the marines were out of Vietnam except for embassy duty. So, being deployed to Okinawa made sense. "What is he up to these days?" Kevin asked.
"When he was in the marines, he was a military policeman," she said with pride.
"Willie was an M.P.? You got to be shitting me!" Kevin said.
"Now, he is a policeman, believe it or not. He really straightened out!" she said beaming.
"For sure, nobody is going to play him for a fool! But I still can't believe it. You have to give me his number. I want to call him," Kevin said.
"You know he says you were the one that got him off the path he was on. He thinks you may have saved his life that one time," she smiled.
Kevin laughed, "Believe me the Marine Corps should get the credit. Somewhere, there is a leather tough DI that did the heavy lifting."
As Kevin finished eating, Janet went in the back and dug a business card out of her purse. She presented Kevin with it. It was Willie's official police business card. On the back, she had scribbled Willie's home number.
Kevin told Janet she would be seeing him around more often because he wanted to see if he could get Matt T some help. Janet knew who Matt was. She shook her head and said she didn't think he could be helped.
Saturday morning, Kevin went over to the old neighborhood in his beat-up, old F-150 pickup. He pulled up to the Washington place and sat in the truck for a second, just taking it in. It was a white duplex with a slightly sagging front enclosed sun porch on it. The porch on the main floor was where Pat slept. Mom had the back bedroom. Kevin thought to himself about what a rut Pat held herself in. The house was the same; only more dilapidated than it was since the last time he was there, over four years before.
He saw that Pat must have heard the truck idling at the curb as the heavy curtains on the porch fluttered into place. He supposed you had to have heavy pulled curtains if you were a good looking female sleeping on a ground floor porch in that neighborhood. He shut the truck off, and walked up to the door.
Pat's mom opened it and looked Kevin over. Then she welcomed him in. "Kevin, it's great to see you. Pat told me you had filled out and turned into a handsome guy. She wasn't kidding," she said with a smile almost as beguiling as Pat's.
Pat appeared about that time and rolled her eyes in mock disgust. "Mother! You are embarrassing me. You know all the flattery will just make him insufferable," Pat said.
They made some small talk. Hannah expressed sorrow about Kevin's dad dying. She asked about his mom. Kevin told her she was loving it down South. He told them both about her little place in Hilton Head. "If you have never been down South, it does take some getting used to," he said.
Pat had not sealed some of the boxes to be moved yet. So, Kevin set to work in the porch; sealing them and stacking them. It would be about a 10 minute job to load them up. Kevin had even taken a two wheel dolly from the apartment complex storage area to use. As he packed, Kevin noticed that Pat did have one picture stuck in the corner of her bedroom dresser. It was an old picture. Kevin had been in the room before and seen it there before. It was a black & white of the two of them together outside the house. They were just teenagers, tall and thin. Big smiles on their faces and arms around each other. The picture had to be ten years old.
Kevin picked it up and studied it. Pat came over and stood next to him as he looked at it. Then she said, "I thought about taking it down today so you wouldn't know I had kept it up there all these years. I want to be more like you, more honest with my feelings. So I left it up there. Believe me; I have looked at that picture often. I prayed for you lots of nights before I went to bed, especially when you were in the service. I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you."
Hannah was in the living room. The sun porch bedroom could be closed off from there only by a set of French Doors. She could see the two of them in there looking at the picture. She heard the conversation, and attempted to rescue her daughter from it. She called out to ease the situation and said that she was going to get her camera and retake that same picture of them, today.
They loaded the boxes in two trips. When Kevin came back in for the second trip, he left Pat out there with the truck. Hannah whispered to Kevin how happy she was to see the two of them together. "She cares about you so very much. Please be nice to my daughter!" she pleaded.
Kevin wondered if the picture had been discussed between the two of them. In any event, Hannah came out with Kevin, camera in hand, as he took out the second dolly load. Within minutes, they loaded the boxes in the truck, secured the dolly and finished the job. Hannah positioned them almost exactly as they had been 10 years earlier and took three pictures. The old clunky Polaroid Swinger whirled a little and spat out a picture. Hannah presented one to Kevin, one to Pat, and she kept one.
They laughed as they looked at the picture and contrasted the changes they had undergone in the 10 years since the last one was taken. Then, Kevin asked if he could take a couple of mother/daughter pictures of them. They laughingly agreed and posed together. The pictures came out great. You could see the resemblance.
"You know, Kevin and I had a discussion about this three days ago. He told me his dad always told him to look at the mom if you wanted to know how the daughter was
going to age," Pat said to her mom.
"So what’s the verdict Kevin?" they asked.
"I think you are both gorgeous. These pictures don't do you ladies justice," Kevin said to their delight.
After clowning around a little more, Pat kissed her mom and climbed in the truck. They were ready to go. She slid in next to Kevin on the bench seat of the Ford. He put the truck in gear and slid his hand onto her thigh. They headed across town on mostly quiet residential streets.
"Guess who I ran into the other day?" Kevin said.
"I have no idea," Pat said.
"I ran into Janet Smith, Willie's sister," Kevin said.
Then he told her the whole story of how he went out looking around for Matt, and couldn't find him. How he had stopped at the greasy spoon place and Janet was the waitress there. He went on to tell Pat about how glad Janet was to see him. He told her about the little spectacle they made when they recognized each other.
"Now for the rest of the story, Willie is currently a policeman working as a jailer downtown," Kevin said.
"Willie, a cop? You have got to be kidding me!" Pat said.
"I am going to call him up in the near future just to bust his chops and catch up," Kevin said grinning.
Then, they both got into reminiscing and telling stories. The route they were taking took them right through the gritty part of downtown. They passed a strip joint that was frequented by an all black clientele. "You know, his other sister is a stripper in that joint, the last time I heard," Pat said.
"Tammy Smith is a stripper in there?" Kevin said.
"I know she was at one time anyway. I think the McCanns had something to do with recruiting her into that profession," Pat said.