12,715. RUDIMENTS, pt 1,019

RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,019

(I realized most people are boosters)

Back in that Amboy

hospital bed, I just mostly

stayed there thinking about

things. It was a long slow

mess of a recovery, especially

at first. Then it got simpler

the more I went along in

the healing process. Still

lots of things I don't

remember. Not to go all

anal about it, but, again,

I can't remember a thing

about bathroom stuff.

Or even the food; I recall

the nightly food and juice

carts, and I know the sorts

of things I had to eat, but

I can't recall the 'doing'

of it at all; not what they

do in a hospital, about

breakfast and lunch either.

I don't ever remember that.

Maybe it just got tuned out

because the entire thing

was such a miserable, sore,

endeavor. One thing that

stands out is the day I was

leaving. I remember my

mother bringing regular

cloths for me, in a paper

bag; a nice shirt, anyway;

underclothes, and some sort

of pants. I think I recall we

slit the right leg, up the seam,

to get over the cast I was

still wearing. I'd been in

a robe or a hospital gown

until then, for the longest

time. I can't remember any

of that either  -  I guess I

changed now and then, got

it laundered, and put a new

new one on, but I recall

nothing. Maybe the mind just

blanks of it out; all. The good,

what of it there was (can't

really recall that either), or

the bad. It all just got tiresome,

and I didn't even know any

more what living was for.

-
It was treated as a big deal 
too, with a sort of 'send-off.'
At the lobby doorway, some
nurses and helpers and all,
smiling and cheering me off 
(on?).  Even that Filipino nurse 
guy that bugged me was there. It
was all kind of nice  -  parents,
Grandma, blah blah. And then
I got rolled into... into.....into
Sunlight! The outdoors! Real
air! Boy I can remember all
that moment real well. Traffic
noise and car horns; a regular
symphonic roar for sore ears!

Years later, it all settled and

not a glimmer of thought traced

me, unless I went after it, to

think about by choice. My life

turned itself over and just  rolled

away. Same as with after the

seminary  -  once that entire

episode was out of the way, I

can't recall it ever being brought

up again in my 'family' situation.

Mother. Father. Siblings. Just as

if it had never happened and,

instead, I had a group of black,

voided years, that got skipped

over. It was also so funny how

that went; as if people were

afraid of what to bring up with

me, what to talk about. Train

wreck and injuries? Near-fatal

experience? Long coma?

Seminary? No one knew

where to take me, or where

I'd take them. So nothing was

ever brought up; always like

walking on glass.

-

One thing that was on my mind

sometimes was this whole Bible

thing. Every so often there be

some minister or priest traipsing 

through the ward, stopping here or

there with a little blessing or even

a scripture read. Accompanied by

a nurse or aide, as they walked 

along. I'd been told that I had, at

the scene, been given last rites  -

what the Catholics call it anyway.

Something too called 'Extreme

Unction.' What the hell that ever

was I never knew  -  a sort of

anointing of the pre-dead dead,

just before you're leaving the mortal

coil behind. Which I guess I never

did, but I got it anyway. I don't

know how long it lasts, or even

if they still do that whacky stuff,

but here I am. It was yet more 

of the mumbo-jumbo stuff, as

related to me, with oil, and a sash

of some sort, and Latin words

and holy water and all that. I'm

not one to be critical [laugh line;

audience roars!], but who in their

right mind dreamed that crap up?

How could countless, miserable,

generations of peons, serfs, slaves,

ordinary people, village-dwellers

and medieval slobs fall for any

of that. What difference, I mean,

come on, really, what difference

at the point of human death, can

any of that folderol make? And it

only evidently works for the good

Catholic Christian? All others line

up along the side, please? I guessed 

all this stupid talk  -  and that is all

it was, and still is  -  was something

merely to keep foolish people well

occupied while they awaited the

various ends of their separate lives.

-

Lots of things stemming from this

always bugged me. It was like have

been to a magic show but having also

been let in, behind the curtain, to see

what really went on and what was

there. The illogic was so bare. Nothing

added up at all. For instance: Adam

and Eve. That's 'two,' we're told  - the

first two. They had Eden and a good

life, blew it, and got the heave-ho.

They had, evidently, three boys over

time. Cain, Abel, and Seth. You don't 

hear much about Seth. Three boys.

They then went off, those left. Abel

got killed by Cain, by whatever. They

went off, got a mate, married, whatever,

and made more kids. WAIT!!!! Where

did the female(s) come from?  Poor

old Eve never even got to raise a

daughter? Never got to see how girls

grow and mature? How it all works

for their further procreation; the

differing sensitivities and outlooks

of growing a daughter. Just three

boys. One of them already a killer.

So where these females come from

who later had all these kids that ended

up as US? I don't think they covered

that issue too well. There was no

justice, courts or judges, so even back

then when Adam or Eve died, say, and

the 'family' gathered, this Cain guy

came to the wake? Traditional Jewish

Shiva stuff? What's it going to be? 'Oh,

that's my brother, Cain. He killed my

other brother. But it's OK, I guess.' And

also, even if there was a daughter in

these tales, wouldn't it still have been

incestuous for any relations that

furthered the clan? 'Hey, thanks,

Marietta, that was pretty nice. Don't

tell anyone; and when someone else

is around I'll just call you my 4th 

cousin Peggy. Okay?'

-

What the heck was all that? And these

same guys were going to oil me up

and prepare me for an easy glide to

Death's famed portal? I was kind

of glad I was young, otherwise I

may have started searching for the

hospital's gun closet and taken out

a few idiots. Give the ER something

to get to work on.

-

I thought of my future, both the

immediate and the longer range.

None of it brought me elation.

Back home again? Same old

concepts and rut? I realized I

was too young to have any

individual impact, either upon

myself, or others, so the only

thing I could do was go back

with the mob and play act the 

scenes. That's all life was.

Mime and pretend. Who the

heck cared about Uncle Horatio's

new job or car or house or kids?

Who gave two cents, really, about

what went on down the end of the

block, houses that changed hands,

who was related to whom as they

all moved in? What crap people

lived by. I remember often, as my

father drove up Rt. One  -  he was

one of those guys ALWAYS visiting

someone  -  aunts, uncles, whatever  -

and mostly back then they all

lived north, in the old towns and

suburbs there, so we always took

Route One, north, where it used

to make that big curve around 

the airport and by the Budweiser

factory. That's all been straightened

and widened now, and you'd never

know at all what had been there

before. Plus, it wasn't until later 

that everyone began moving 

south instead of being north  -  

places like Jackson, Toms

River, and Old Bridge. We'd

pass that billboard sign that

said 'Welcome to Newark, 

Science City!' Or, maybe it was
'City of Industry.' I forget. Whatever 

that was meant to be it was signed

with the Mayor's name, Hugh

Addonizio, who later went to prison 

for the longest time, a crook like

all the rest: McCormac, Zirpolo,

Joe Vas, Ken Gibson; and countless 

other municipal inmates to come. 

The sign had test-tubes and vials on 

it, illustrated, and some science-lab

guy, staring. It was weird, because

the only 'Science' I really ever

heard about from Newark was the

'Science' of brewing beer; any of

6 or 10 breweries. I guess it meant

Westinghouse, and maybe some

other things. but all it really meant,

and always does anyway, was the

usual, statewide, graft and corruption

of money flowing like dirty water

in any of the streams and rivers.

I guess, sometimes, I more than

not wished I was back into that

hamstrung hospital bed, just

waiting for the lights to go out.

-

I realized then that most

people are boosters; they love

all this growth and industry stuff.

My father thought it was the

greatest thing in the world, as

he drove along, to be entering a

great city of science and wonder.

I was already getting bored stiff.