RUDIMENTS, pt. 227
Making Cars
It was a lot of trouble being me;
especially in a drip-hole like
Woodbridge, where it seemed
that change or whatever it was
took a long time to occur. I
had these two seminary guys,
Ed Nadolny and Ray Nalepa,
who kept visiting me. I suppose
it was the next Summer or so
after I'd been let go by those
gracious masters of speed and
sense, The 'Salvatorian' fathers
who saw fit that I'd make a
better outsider than one of their
insiders. Leaving there was
pretty easy for me, I really
didn't think twice, and one
evening into the early darkness
of a Thanksgiving time free space,
I slinked out, telling no one. My
father had driven his 1960
Chevrolet wagon onto the
side lawn near where my
room was, and I just threw a
bunch of my stuff in the back
of it, and off we went. I had, I
guess, left some growing pains
behind, and some friends, and
some cool memories, but otherwise
I was, as is said, 'non-plussed.'
(I never figured out what that was
ever supposed to mean. Like D'arcy
or something, in one of those
old rip-roaring novels, this or
that person was always 'non-plussed'
by something). To others, this
departure was deemed a big and
momentous thing; though not at
all to me. I had no real identity
to leave behind, so I wasn't
leaving anything. The night was
dark, my father was pretty silent,
and we just drove on.
-
I was more afraid of having to hear
his bullshit for an hour and a half
than I was of anything else. He'd
never liked my being there, felt it
was all pretty faggy and not very
manlike and would leave me with
no real applicable skills or livelihood.
Maybe he was right in some respects,
but on balance what's anything
anyway? I never saw his brawn
and push bringing him anything
great except five kids, a paltry pay
envelop, and a bunch of sideline
grief and annoyance. I was also
afraid of getting one of his, also
ridiculous, pep-talks now about
now being free, go out and bag
those babes one at a time like a real
man, own up to your feelings, step
lively son. My own realization was
that, using him as an example, any
over-zealousness in the 'bag 'em
department would just cause undue
burdens of emotion, toil, pain and
misery. So, most of the ride was
in silence, and I don't think there
was even a 'what are you gonna
do now?' moment. The rest of the
night, I just don't remember.
-
Now, there are some storybook
moments and moviebook scenes to
things like this, where Dad and the
boy stop off for a beer or a diner
sit-down and happily talk over
manhood and things of that ilk,
and the kid's response to everything
is all movie uplift and plot-advances
of good intentions and right-thinking
and missionary stuff (no, I don't mean
the position). Going out and changing
the world, beating back the ruling
Gods of darkness. But, for me, here,
there was none of that. In fact, probably
neither of us wanted to be right there
at that moment. It was tolerable, like
dissecting a frog is tolerable, if you're
in class and it gets you a decent grade.
But this all sucked. It was the ending
to one thing, and the new endeavor
already seemed like a non-starter.
But I had nowhere else to go, was
stuck, and certainly just couldn't
walk off. Though, if I'd known then
what my future was about to hold,
I might have walked off....a bridge.
-
Ed Nadolny and Ray Nalepa were
like two inseparable brothers. They
were from somewhere nearby to
my home in Avenel - maybe one
was was in Fords and the other
South Amboy, or maybe Sayreville.
I forget. But anyway, they'd come
around that Summer, together, in a
car, like two sweet puppies. Looking
in after me, seeing if I was OK, what
I was doing, how I was getting on.
In all respects they were being really
nice, trying to be helpful with an
apparent and a real concern. I should
have been grateful for having them,
and reciprocated better. The problem
was, I'd had no training in that stuff,
I actually had no real breeding. I
simply scorned them. Scowled at
them, as if to say, 'You're kidding
me, not you two again.' I was a
real jerk - these are people and
times to be treasured, and instead
I was heaving everything out like
a disgruntled brat. I never knew
what these two fellows were after,
but maybe just a few more kind
words could have both brought
me something and given them
something too. But, you can't go
backwards, I guess.
-
When you're in the little age-gap I
was in, and especially having the
experiences I'd just had, getting
anywhere was difficult. For a while,
every little thing was an eye-opener.
Having left the seminary behind, all
those little moments of things I'd done,
I realized, had stayed with me, and yet
they didn't exist anywhere else. I had
to mingle back in with town kids and
such who had absolutely no knowledge
of outside things - their worlds were
still engendered by the prevailing
cultural milieus of the little towns
around Avenel and Woodbridge.
That was really limited stuff - kids
were going to basketball games in
January, indoor and evening stuff in
a lousy school gym. One high school
against another, like football, and I
was supposed to get gung-ho'd about
that? Then in March they had a Junior
Class Play production of something,
I forget, Brigadoon or some crummy
play, and I could hardly sit through it.
It was all ego. These kids acted with
their Ego - pride, boastful, and,
worst of all - singing. I hated music
and musicals in that theatrical sense.
I hated that metallic, stage-song
voice that Broadway people have.
My intense inner turmoil was into
Brecht, and Pere Ubu, and plays
like that than any of this sing-songy
crap being peddled from a high-school
stage. I had a braggy friend, Fred.
The first thing he does is take me past
'Doc Lozo's house' - the high school
principal. Fred's conceit was that he
was already that big and high up in
society to be friends and first-name
chums with 'Doc.' Who the hell
cared? Not me, for sure. That was
the beginning trajectory for crazy
Fred, who just took off from there;
probably now having brunch each
Sunday with Bill Gates or somebody.
Really, he was that inflated about
himself. I broke away from that too,
and him, as quickly as it was possible.
I found that little mattered to me of
the things that others were already
thinking of as so important. I had
something special to nurture, and
I was intent on finding my best
ways of doing that. And little else.
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