Snow Pictures
Page 1
Copyright © 2019 by Kevin Deeny
Print ISBN: 978-1-54395-957-4
eBook ISBN: 978-1-54395-958-1
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form or format whatsoever without express written permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, and events are constructs of the author’s imagination. Actual places and settings, where mentioned, have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or deceased, is coincidental.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
In my experience, writing a book, like raising children, takes a village. Gerard Mullin, publisher of a local newspaper urged me to write and offered guidance. Bill Sitman, a mentor and friend, encouraged me forward. Kim Neill, who was moved by the story, showed me the power of words. Family all contributed in active support, encouragement, and memory; siblings Alice, Frank, Kathy, Liz, Joan, and Mary and daughters Jennifer, Kelly, Sheana, and Kym all have helped bring this story to life. Jamie followed the organization and logic – complete with spreadsheet and Dave provided the EMT perspective. Most of all, it has been Marcia who has given me the life to write.
Contents
Chapter 1: Snow Pictures
Chapter 2: Swimming
Chapter 3: Tinkering
Chapter 4: Getting Religion
Chapter 5: A New School
Chapter 6: A New Teacher
Chapter 7: Learning to Breathe
Chapter 8: Anger; Rise and Fall
Chapter 9: High School
Chapter 10: Brothers
Chapter 11: Rosalind
Chapter 12: Lessons from Children
Chapter 13: Acceptance
Chapter 14: Dr. Bea
Chapter 15: Joined
Chapter 16: Gathering
Chapter 17: Life Together
Chapter 18: Coming Back
Chapter 19: Touchstone
Chapter 20: Robert
Chapter 21: Searching for Answers
Chapter 22: The Collins Farm
Chapter 23: Decompression
Chapter 24: Photography
Chapter 25: Death of a Child
Chapter 26: To the Mountain
Chapter 27: Stormy Weather
Chapter 28: Healing
Chapter 29: Emily
Chapter 30: Day of the Jury
Chapter 31: A Friend
Chapter 32: Offense
Chapter 33: Defense
Chapter 34: Reporter
Chapter 35: Getting Ready
Chapter 36: Interview
Chapter 37: The Chapel
Chapter 38: Down the Mountain
Chapter 39: Discovery
Chapter 40: What Comes After
Epilogue
PostScript
End Note
About the Author
Chapter 1
Snow Pictures
The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera. — Dorothea Lange
[Present Day]
The hike from the car didn’t feel very strenuous until he had to climb down into and then up out of the ravine. He started to suck a lot of air and had to slow to a steady pace to make his way through the snow. The two cameras and gear in his backpack with a tripod strapped on added enough weight to be noticeable. He readjusted his shoulder straps and scanned the tree line as he moved. He didn’t feel cold at all.
The clouds were billowy, remnants of the winter storm that dropped eight inches of snow the day before. He hiked abreast of a line of fir trees and used them as a windbreak as he made his way along the edge of the field. Long shafts of ryegrass which escaped the fall hay harvest rose above the blanket of snow and rippled with the motion of the wind. He made his way slowly past the line of trees into a clearing and paused. The morning sun shone through the breaking clouds and painted spindly shadows of trees along the edge of the clearing. The snow was clean and fresh and sparkled in the morning light. He moved toward the center of the clearing and kept his attention on the changing light.
He dropped his gear and took in the scene; sweet morning light, a fresh field of snow and a line of leafless trees atop a gentle rise created an eye-catching horizon of contrast with the cloud-mottled sky. He unpacked a camera, set up his tripod and took several shots. He gradually became aware of the quiet stillness there at the center of the clearing with the moving sky above and the swaying branches at the edge of the clearing. Everything around him seemed brighter, more detailed, - crisper for reasons he couldn’t explain. He realized this was one of those moments some native cultures called a ‘quickening’ when senses are heightened, awareness is enhanced, and time seems to slow down.
A hawk moved in from a distant point beyond the horizon and slowly, almost leisurely, glided straight on until it passed directly overhead. It seemed the bird was curious about his singular presence. He smiled and thought to himself if it wasn’t for the snow and lack of peyote, this could be a scene Carlos Castaneda might find familiar. He had almost forgotten about his camera as he watched the hawk above but managed to remove it from the tripod in time and catch her as she progressed overhead. He spent some time there in quiet appreciation until the moment passed, and he continued his way through the snow.
For a while, he followed deer tracks that seemed to ramble aimlessly through the woods. He photographed trees, hay rolls, and ice-covered streams and encountered a few cross-country skiers making their way along the snow-covered trails. He followed a path up to a rock outcrop and perched there to photograph the stream as it emerged from beneath the ice and cascaded down the face of the dam. The water appeared black and cold, the sight of which reminded him a warm home awaited. The light changed as the afternoon gave way to evening and it surprised him when he realized the day was almost gone. He turned away from the stream and continued his climb to the trails above.
After a time, he gained the security of his Jeep and scrolled through the digital images. He was breathing a little heavy from the long hike back and felt the soreness in his legs and lower back he knew would stay with him for a few days. He always felt energized by his treks in the snow but wondered if he was now catching up to his age. It had been a good day; he had had a chance to see the world made new again, all quiet and freshly cloaked in snow. Days like this were all too rare now, but he was still moved by the experience.
He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his smartphone, tapped the recorder icon, and began to dictate the notes to supplement the meta-data for his images. He knew he was more than a little obsessive, but thought it important to keep detailed records about the photographs he took. The notes always helped when he wasn’t quite satisfied with the results, and they were often necessary if he chose to submit a photograph for an amateur competition.
He was more tired than he thought and strained against the tightness in his chest as he talked into the phone. He thought to himself he needed a nap; just a few short moments to push the tiredness away. He was always able to nap in almost any circumstance wherever he traveled. He thought about starting the Jeep to warm it up but decided against it because he knew he would only nap for a few minutes, as always. Besides, he thought, the cold would get uncomfortable soon and guarantee he wouldn’t linger too long.
Slowly his eyes closed and he sighed as the tension left his body. The hand which still held the phone relaxed and the phone slipped away. There between the console and the seat support, it continued to record the cold silence, only occasionally interrupted by the muffled sounds of a shallow breath.
Chapter 2
Swimming
When a plunge is to be made into the water, it’s of no use lingering on the
bank. — Charles Dickens, David Copperfield
He was twelve years old again, and it was hot. It was always hot in August and kids were talking about going for a swim in the Delaware River. It was a long bike ride to get to the river at Bristol, but when you’re twelve, no place is too far away. Most importantly, his older brother Mike was going, and this was a chance to hang around with some of the older kids. He had to be careful though because hanging out with his older brother didn’t always turn out the way he planned. Earlier in the month, during a sleep-out in the tent in the backyard, they had decided to go for a swim and cool off at the community pool. It was 2 am.
The woman who managed the pool for the association lived right across the street from it, and she was known to be a light sleeper. Stealth was important. That night there were only five of them who were able to wrangle permission from their parents to sleep out for yet another summer night. Mike, as the oldest, was the leader. At the edge of the development was a large open field; a remnant of one of the few remaining farms that survived the construction of Levittown. The area was overgrown and provided excellent cover as they approached the small wooded copse which bordered the community recreation area. The plan was for everyone to strip down to their underwear and leave their clothes just inside the edge of the woods. That way, there would be no wasted time at the pool, especially if they had to get out in a hurry.
So far so good. After crossing the parking lot from the woods, they all carefully climbed the chain linked fence – it was difficult barefoot, and a great deal of extra attention was given to the pointed ends at the top because only the slimmest piece of fabric existed between them and their dangling parts as they crossed over. One by one they slipped quietly into the pool. From their vantage point, they could see a large section of the roadway that paralleled the recreation area. The few cars that passed by were keenly scrutinized as they took care to keep their heads barely above the water surface until the retreating taillights signaled the “all clear.”
Like most things which are going perfectly according to plan, there is always an opportunity to screw something up. This opportunity came from Mike. After everyone had had enough of skulking around in the pool, Mike announced they all had to dive off the high diving board on the way out. He added, “Marcus you’re going last.” and quickly climbed the ladder and did a cannonball dead-center in the deep end of the pool.
They all looked across the street, and sure enough, the light came on at the pool manager’s house. There was a mad scramble up the ladder and one by one they dove into the pool. Marcus was dumbstruck when his brother went off the diving board and had little time to react as the others pushed passed him to get to the diving board ladder. He ended up last after all. Marcus thought of himself as a good swimmer and hurried into his dive which angled a little bit toward the side of the pool to help himself climb out and escape a little faster. He entered the water in good form with as small a splash as possible, his underwear, however, had gone their own way.
Marcus was faced with a dilemma; try to find his underwear in the dark pool or leave them and deal with the teasing which was sure to follow. The flashing red lights from the roadway decided the point for him, and he clambered from the pool and ran for the fence line. His brother and friends, already on the other side of the fence, were yelling for him to hurry up. He was up and over quickly, and everybody took off in different directions.
He ran alone through the parking lot as the police car entered the access road but avoided the woods because he couldn’t be sure of his progress in the dark. The field offered the best cover. He reached the edge of the area just as the police car seemed to acquire him as its target and it came straight toward the field after him. He ran on and discovered running naked through an overgrown field was an uncomfortable experience. The farmer’s dog was barking, and he heard movement in the grass as if it too was in pursuit. The police car continued in, and he ran hard to the right to move closer to the center of the field where it would be harder going for the car. Thankfully, it slowed to a stop and eventually turned back. He never did encounter the dog.
Marcus reached the backyard of one the houses in the development and hid alongside a clump of bushes. As he waited for his heart to stop racing, he considered the problem; he was still naked. It seemed just like one of those dreams you have when you find yourself in school in your underwear or worse yet entirely without clothes, and you somehow have to get through the day. He couldn’t walk through the development bare ass naked. He had to get back to the woods and retrieve his clothes, but he knew the police would be around for a while, so he had to wait it out.
Crouching by the bushes caused his legs to cramp up, and he stretched out, looked up at the sky and wondered about all of the stars which seemed so bright and numerous. He enjoyed the silence –it was peaceful and comforting. He was also thankful the mosquitoes hadn’t found him yet. He dozed, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep long; there were urgent issues that had to be dealt with.
Eventually, as the night air cooled and dew formed on the neatly cut lawn, he moved back into the field, shivering as he went. He found his clothes where he left them and dressed quickly. He retraced his steps back into the development and worked his way through backyards until he reached his street and his own backyard. All was quiet except for the muffled sound of the milk truck making deliveries on the next road over. He found his sleeping bag amidst the other sleeping bodies in the tent, climbed in and slept.
Two weeks later, the idea to go for a swim in the Delaware River came up suddenly – like many of the activities at the end of summer crammed in after Little League Baseball ended for the season and before school starts. Summer seemed to be passing fast, and there was still so much to do. So, when the idea came up to head to the river for a swim, it sounded like an excellent way to spend the hot summer’s day. Given his near catastrophe at the pool, (What could be worse than almost being caught naked by the police?), he was wary yet excited enough to go along.
Mike and Marcus had decided to go along with four of the kids from the neighborhood. Ernesto wanted to go too. He was new to the area; on vacation for the summer while he stayed with his sister. He spoke only broken English, but fit in well, because even though he was from another country, he liked to do the things all kids do. He was immediately nicknamed Lester by the group.
They arrived at the river in the shadow of the turnpike bridge. It’s a massive structure that launches into the air on the Pennsylvania side at Bristol and soars above the Delaware River until it gains a foothold in Florence New Jersey. The river flow at this point is nearly 5,000 cubic feet per second resulting in a daily flow of 3.2 billion gallons which doubles during the rainy periods. It is a substantial river.
The span is supported by concrete columns anchored deep into the riverbed and protected by a massive bulwark at their base. The span itself provides shade from the summer sun, and the first bulwark is close enough to shore to be within reach of reasonably good swimmers. It seemed to the boys to be a perfect place to check out and swim once you got past the fence.
Initially, there was a lot of activity exploring the debris washed up on the river bank followed by a lot of standing around and talking about who was going in first. Marcus picked a starting point up-current and swam toward the bulwark alone. The current was strong, but he was a good swimmer and didn’t fight the flow but moved with it. Despite his up-current starting position Marcus had to pull hard at the end to catch the end of the pier. He climbed up exhausted and rested at the top of the bulwark in a small sunlit patch. The rest of the boys started out in a couple of groups, and Marcus judged there would be a few minutes before they reached the pier. He laid down and enjoyed the warmth of the sun.
Mike was next to reach the pier and pulled himself up to his brother’s position. As they looked back toward the river bank for the remainder of the group, they noticed Lester was having a hard time and was desperately fighting against
the current. It surprised them because Lester was really muscular; he was the only one of them who looked good in a muscle tee shirt and with muscles like that, everyone just figured he knew how to swim. It soon became apparent he would be carried downstream and wouldn’t make the pier.
Mike was still exhausted from his swim from shore, but both he and Marcus dove off the pier to try and catch Lester before he drifted by. When they caught up with him, Lester panicked and clung to Mike for support. He was pleading in Spanish and Marcus, and Mike tried to explain to him that he needed to float for a while and move with the current. There was no understanding between them; language and fear became insurmountable.
Mike and Marcus took turns supporting Lester, but he fought constantly and his strength, in full panic, overwhelmed them and pulled them under. Nearing complete exhaustion and now fearing for their own survival, Mike and Marcus put distance between themselves and Lester and watched as he lost hope and sank beneath the water. They then moved closer again and bobbed beneath the surface to find him, caught him by a fist full of his hair, and pulled him to the surface. He looked utterly lifeless, and they took turns holding his head above water as they continued to drift.
Marcus was utterly exhausted and looked into his brother’s face and saw the same. It was that look that allowed him to stop fighting, he had never seen his older brother scared and vulnerable before, and he believed there was no hope. Marcus was surprisingly calm and felt a comforting relaxation take hold as if falling to sleep. He no longer felt any fear and was entirely at peace as his consciousness ebbed and he drifted aimlessly with the current.
As if in a dream, his brother seemed to be calling from a distance and at first, he had trouble realizing where he was and what his brother was saying. He strained to hear and turned to see a boat coming near, and he renewed his fight to keep afloat. He listened as the engine throttled back and the craft drifted near. Suddenly, Lester was pulled from the water followed soon by Mike. Marcus reached for a rung on the boat ladder, and a pair of strong arms pulled him from the river.