Saturday, February 23, 2019

11,565. RUDIMENTS, pt. 605

RUDIMENTS, pt. 605
(never, ever got airborne)
Well, summation time seems
immanent but I'm not paying
it any mind at all. The thing is,
I never thought I'd see 70; it
still astounds me. And all of
this now is my way of a sort
of recollecting what's transpired
in the lunar (or was it solar?)
haze of what went by me. I
mostly can still remember
teething and what that was
like  -  then losing those teeth
and getting new ones again.
The second time mostly one
at a time. Even back then I
marked that as one of life's
odd sequencings, and marked
it accordingly as needing more
study. I remember, out by
Columbia Crossroads, some
amazing trailer guy there,
named Claude. No teeth had
he, and a large family, and a
wife. In a run down trailer a
ways out in the woods. No one
approached him much, ever
-  bad name, bad reputation,
just somehow a bad taste in
everyone's mouth about him.
I never did find out what he
did to get to that point, but it
was before my time and I start
everyone out the same. At zero,
and work it up from there. So,
I had no knowledge of Claude,
about 12 years older than me,
who he was, nor what was behind
it all. He was nice to me, I was
nice back. Anyway, it was them
who sent him to me. The Bd. of
'Education' or the Welfare people,
as they combined forces; they
gave this guy the pittance of a
job  -  looking like it anyway  -
for his 60 bucks a week to feed
his family and heat his trailer.
(I know his last name and I was
able to find him online  -  living
just a few miles from where he
did then. Seems is wife has passed
on, and the kids, apparently, have
filtered out. He's entered his 80's,
which I never thought he'd see  -
but I'm not using his last name).
Working with me? I hardly had
enough for myself, plus I had
two after high-school kids each
day for sweeping and clean up.
I gave old Claude a broom, and
said 'stand by, keep after things.'
I stayed busy, in the cold, tending
the coal furnaces (two) for the
school's heat, etc. Plus I was
into a deep-read of both 'Future
Shock,' by Alvin Toffler, and
'The Greening of America,' by
Charles Reich.
-
Claude got there most every day;
it was maybe three or four miles
for him. His old car, quite literally,
sat on its chassis sort of sideways,
like something was really off kilter,
and when he drove down the road
the car, I swear, was not facing
straight forward. It was 'going'
forward, yes, but was twisted or
something in a manner that made
it closer to looking as if it was
going sideways. Claude's big
dream, which he told me one time
when he found out I was from
Jersey, was to someday make it
to 'the Jersey Shore,' so he could
see the girls there in their 'kibinis.'
Yes, that's what he said. I realized
immediately he definitely must
have meant 'bikinis,' so I just
smiled softly and let it be. Funny
ways with language up there.
Another time the school district
sent me an older guy as a welfare
helper too  -  lasted only a little  -
and he was from Conshohocken,
PA, where he'd once had a family
and kids and all. But he insisted
always on pronouncing it, in all
truthfulness now, and just as he 
spoke it, as 'Connieshohawkin.'
That was a weird one to me. All he
most ever did, and frankly I never
much cared, was sit around after
he was done cleaning up the lunch
room, and watch Beverly Hillbillies
daytime re-runs on some school TV
set he'd dragged out of a closet and 
set up at the back of the stage. They 
played maybe two or three of them,
in a row, each afternoon, and then 
they went to, I don't know, Munsters 
or Adams Family or Bonanza re-runs.
All behind the curve stuff for sure; 
Claude ate it up some too.
-
I was sure mostly adrift in that place
and spent a lot of my time, truth be
told, in the main office room sitting
around with the teachers. At least
they had half-brains. At this time
there were a few interesting things
going on, stuff we could talk about.
The Pentagon Papers fiasco, the
MyLai Massacre and Lieutenant
Calley stuff, Nixon and re-election
and all that crime crap, Wallace
getting shot, Nixon taking the
dollar off the gold standard, the
end of Bretton Woods, etc. None
of those welfare chumps or the
after-school kids ever knew what
the Hell I was talking about. The
coolest thing was this Clifford
Irving guy, a writer, who was
caught out for writing a fake
autobiography of Howard Hughes.
That was a bid scandal too  -
Hughes was a reclusive billionaire,
germaphobic, long fingernails
and hair, a real eccentric nut-case,
holed away in Las Vegas, seeing
no one and living off his billions.
He had, in the past, been a pioneer
aviator, built a plywood plane,
enormous, called The Spruce
Goose, but which never, ever,
got airborne, and he'd made
early Hollywood films, even
had groomed some big babe
as a famous movie starlet. She
later sold 48-hour bras. Jane
Russell, I think was her name.
-
None of that sounds like much now,
but back then it was all something'
to do. Claude never got the half
of it right. Every time there was a
big snow or a real rough cold snap,
locals would get their snowmobiles
out (I never had one) and deliver
parcels of food to the really poor,
bad-off families out in the hills
and hollows, dirt-roads and trailers.
Otherwise, they'd die; snowed in
and freezing. It was some rough
stuff. Claude was one of them. I
visited there a few times, and I
drove his kids in the schoolbus
sometimes too. His daughter, the
nicest of the lot, was about 9 or
10 then, named April. She was
really sensitive and aware. I
always felt bad for her (and
unfortunately, in his family-kin
listings now, I do NOT anywhere
see anyone named April, so
who knows?)....One time I
went there (don't read this if it
will cause you grief; it's harsh,
and sad) I guess their trailer
plumbing was out or something,
and he'd cut a hole in the trailer
floor; which they used instead.
Everything was skirting the
horrendous, and it wasn't just
Claude. There were people living
in some real desperation out
there, or trying to. I never heard
of anyone dying or freezing to
death, nor any repercussions
from this sort of dire living,
but it may have happened. In
that time period, there was a
particular form of real poverty,
almost like Appalachia, that had
it tendons stretched out through
these parts. I remember being in
the Troy Bank once and the guy
telling someone near-over to me
 how he was so sorry and these
were really tough times and all
but they simply could not extend 
any more money to him. It was all
so matter of fact, as if he just
figured to leave out, 'even if 
your kids are starving and there's
never any milk and your wife is 
sick and you yourself are without
any livelihood...'
-
It was all new and uncharted for
me too  -  whatever bravado I put
forth was half bluster. Some of
these people, the teachers for
example, many of their dreams
were of the nightmares I'd just
left : New York City, free and
bohemian ways, stylish digs, all
the streets of possibility and of
promise. I'd listen, throw in only
a few of my own observations
and points, but could never really
delve into what I'd been amidst.
And anyway, I wasn't one of them,
and it was their room, and I was
allotted the often-privilege of
being in there, even if I was but
the janitor-in-chief.

No comments: