RUDIMENTS, pt. 12345
(real life, and running with it)
..(part one)..
I have a lot of things on my
palette. Yes. Among them are
colors, and gripes. I'm already
tired of Black History Month,
for instance, one day into it -
as it seems to come after four
months of Black Commercials
month. Funny, how America
thinks if solves its race problems
by putting blacks in the forefront
now of most TV commercials.
Martin Luther King should have
called it 'Non-Violent Persistence'
instead of 'Resistance.
-
That's only one small aspect of
my current societal gripes, and
really, who the Hell cares except
me? So why go on blabbering
about a lost nation of cowards
and idiots? In ancient Greece,
the meaning of 'idiot' was 'one
who does not take part in civic
services or activities.' Now it's
just the opposite.
-
Marcel Proust had this thing
about the 'persistence of memory.'
So did Salvador Dali. Looking
for a while at a TV presentation,
I replace that accordingly: 'The
Persistence of Mammaries.'
-
So, let's let all that go...I am,
instead going to introduce you
to some friends of my daily
moments, up here in the
whacked-out boonies. Most
nearly every Monday, the wife
and I leave to comfort of our
country-rural spread and venture
some 18 miles, down the hills
and around the bend, to the
next, somewhat-active, 'town,'
for supplies, groceries, etc.
We twist along the roadways,
regarding the weather and the
road conditions, the trees and
the country lanes, and the varied
houses and what's transpired:
To look at the goats and cows
and sheep; to see the tracks in
the newly fallen snow; to see
the most impassable parts of the
roadways and have to decide
what to do.
-
Monday it was about 8 degrees
as we arrived to the local market.
Since maybe two Autumns ago,
I've gotten friendly with a local
guy who is usually sitting out
at the lunch table, for employees
or not, along the side where their
beer store is. (Not liquors, just
beer. In Pennsylvania only the
State Stores sells the hard stuff,
controlling prices and access,
though you'd never know it).
This guy goes by the name
'Randy,' which I can never
seem to remember except as
'Rodney' - for some reason -
though I soon catch myself. He's
the nicest guy you'd think of
meeting, a sort of variant on the
street-person that most people
would ignore or evade. We hit
it off right away, the first time.
The Manager of the store had
confused me with him, as I was
at 'his' usual picnic table waiting.
'Dave' later apologized, saying
we sort of looked alike. Then
when I did meet Randy, we
both did have long hair and
a long beard. So I supposed it
was an easy mistake, all cleared
up long ago. Then one day Randy
was haircutted and shaven! I
wondered what was up, and he
told me it was medical - a hip
operation, or a knee, or something
had brought him into contact with
the medical industry and he'd
been cleaned up. He eventually
grew it all back. Now, though
he's been fixed and healed, one
of his pet references is 'the Medical
Industry,' as in 'don't get mixed
up, once they get into you there's
no stopping them, it's a treadmill -
specialists, pills, prescriptions,
and more. He makes claims of
near-indigence, but he has some
sort of great medical coverage
from an old job or something in
that vein. So, mostly I just listen,
and tell him, sincerely, that I
can understand - fact is I have
none of that myself, bare-backed
on coverage, don't have a doctor,
no pre-pay plans for this or that,
no pills, no check-ins. So it
really doesn't matter; I just let
him run on.
-
He actually has an apartment,
yes, over on a nearby street,
Honesdale way. So he's not
really the indigent nor the
reprobate he seems - reasonable
fellow, observant, notices things,
talks well enough, helps out his
neighbors with things like snow
clearing and such. Randy's not
at all off-putting. This day, the
Monday I'm writing about, he
was there as I walked over to
the area - after having strolled
through the Salvation Army
store nearby (I was trying to
find again a .79 book I passed
on last visit. I was hoping it
was still there, but it was gone.
(a biography of Alexander
Hamilton. Too late, alas).
Randy was sitting there with
three big chunks of cheese in
a plastic bag. I said 'Hey! How's
it been?' etc., and we did the
greeting thing. I said 'What's
with the cheese?' He said, 'It's
Government cheese, and these
three pieces are for a friend
who works inside the store.'
I asked about all that, and he
said in addition to the cheese,
he stops in and gets a large
box of food too. Enough to last
him nearly three weeks. I said
'How's that?' He said 'The Food
Pantry. I filled out some forms
a couple of years ago and have
been getting it ever since. You
could probably get something
too, it all depends on your income
or situation. Just fill out the
papers.' Without any real intention
to do so, I just went along with
the idea and said 'Yeah.'
-
Rodney's...no, Randy's, big
thing that day was to tell me
that Dave had opened a small
bar, with some barstools, in the
back of the liquor store, where
you could buy beer and sit there
and drink it. He was surely
excited about this, and said that
as soon as his friend came out
for the cheese, that was where
he was headed. I playfully told
him to consider that word. Drink.
Which is something that, when
you've had too much of, you're
'drunk.' Which is like the past
tense of 'drink.' Then we said
when you drop something in
water, it will sink. Which is
what the faucet basin in the
kitchen is called. A 'sink.' But
we couldn't get to the bottom
of that one. I told him how,
in the middle ages when they
were first doing 'Medicine,'
and finding out about the
body its organs, they called
the 'liver' that (this is true)
because, though they didn't
know its function, they knew
realized you needed it to live.
So they called it the 'liver.'
-
I'd seen Randy, through the
hot Summer, often outside
there with some booze in a
brown bag, and beer too, so I
asked him how he'd managed
that, public drinking, if only
now Dave's liquor store was
allowing inside drinking. He
said the cops never bothered
him and that Honesdale cops
were rarely seen - which is true -
and I asked him how many
there were, thinking maybe
20, and he said more like 6
and they only occasionally
were around doing traffic.
He said the Honesdale cops
only worked from 8am to
11pm and that if there was
a problem after that or a
domestic disturbance call
after that, you were on your
own and the best to be hoped
for was a call to the State Police,
with a barracks out on Rt. 191,
and hope they'd make it over
in an hour or so. Funny, that
was. I'd early on given Randy
my phone number for pretty
much that purpose, since all
he did was walk (he rants
about the expenses associated
with car ownership and bewails
it all). I told him, medically
or otherwise, if he ever needed
a ride to somewhere, I'd take
him.
-
And then there was 'Swamp Ass.'
That's the girl from the liquor
store. It was funny when I first
heard it, but now I know more.
In some of the hot Summer days
she always walked around with
Summer clothing, but with a
flannel shirt tied around her waist
and hanging down - so as to
cover her rear. Some other female
there one day said 'It's hot out here,
how come you always wear that
flannel to cover your butt?' The
girl, whose name was Hawley,
like the town about 20 miles away,
said 'Because I'm in the heat here
and then inside I'm always stacking
beer and drinks in the chilled and
cold sections. I get an awful case
of swamp-ass, up and down. In
and out.' I wasn't sure what any
of that meant, and was only able
to surmise that she must get a
sweaty butt, thus the nomen,
'swamp ass.' Still not sure, and
I've never asked, but if I did she's
the sort who happily tell me, no
matter rightly or wrongly. Most
pleasant girl ever. She was already
friends with Randy, and the others
around, but took to me too, right
off. Her vacations and free time
have her, often enough, going to
the distant Jersey Shore, Long
Beach Island and the rest. Most
of this last Summer she wore an
LBI cap, and, often, Long Beach
Island tee shirts too. I asked her
if she - when she was hired by
Dave's - asked for the liquor
clerk job or was it just given to
her. She said 'No, I asked for it;
I worked in a liquor store back
home in Connecticut, so I already
knew that whole routine of pricing
and rotating stock and re-stocking.
It's the only job here I'd want!'
-
....end of part one
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