As the days grew warmer, Grandpa moved cooking and water heating operations to the summer kitchen. This was a small building, not much more than a shed. It had a stove and outside of it there was a picnic table. There we cooked and ate when the weather was good. That way the kitchen stove didn’t heat up the house. There we also bathed all through the summer and there Grandpa did the laundry.
Since we had arrived Grandpa had been doing the laundry in a galvanized tub filled with hot water from the stove. Using soap and a washboard, he first scrubbed the clothes, then refilled the tub with water and rinsed them. After he had wrung as much water out of them as he could, he hung them on clotheslines strung between the house and the barn. I eventually began helping him.
On a school day in early June when I went to lunch, Jesse wasn’t there. Josh explained that Jesse was taking exams so he didn’t have the period free. We had wondered what would happen when Jesse was no longer there to attract the others and we soon found out.
Two boys came to the table and asked where Jesse was. When Josh told them, they left. Then a boy came who didn’t ask; he simply sat. Soon two other boys came, and before long the table was full. Josh looked at me and I looked back and we both shrugged.
The next day, the same thing happened, although the table filled up more quickly. By the end of the meal I couldn’t contain my curiosity any longer. Turning to one of the kids I said, “OK. What’s up? Josh and I assumed that you guys all sat here because of Jesse. So why are you still here?”
The boys laughed, looked at each other, and silently seemed to appoint a spokesman. “Well, it’s pretty simple,” he said. “Once when you guys were late getting here, we asked Jesse why he was sitting with you and he told us. We all agreed that it wasn’t fair to pick on you the way we had been, so we decided to be permanent members of The Fag Table, no matter whether we’re gay or not.”
“Well, thanks!” Josh responded.
“Besides, we’ve decided that you guys are fun and smart and we like being with you. So fuck the other kids.” At that we all burst out laughing as kids at the other tables looked over, one of them calling out, “What’s so funny?”
“You are,” answered one of the boys at The Fag Table, and again we all laughed.
That Sunday, as the noon dinner drew to an end, Grandpa asked quietly, “Did you boys remember that this is your father’s birthday?”
My brothers shook their heads, but I exploded. “I don’t give a damn about him. That bastard can burn in hell as far as I’m concerned!”
Grandpa grabbed me by my shirt collar, dragged me from my chair and slammed me against the wall. “You boys go out and play,” he ordered the other two. Seeing his anger, they didn’t hesitate but raced out the back door toward the barn.
Oh damn, I thought. We were just beginning to get along better.
“Sit Down!” he ordered in a quieter but still angry voice. I sat.
Sitting in a chair across the table from me he said, “Do you even know the meaning of the word ‘bastard’?”
“Yes, sir,” I mumbled sullenly. Then, looking up, I said, “But I didn’t mean it that way. We just use the word for somebody we think is terrible or hurtful, or something like that. I know that Dad wasn’t a bastard.”
“Son, words have meanings, and you can’t change them just to suit yourself. I don’t know about where you came from, but up here, that word has only one meaning and it’s an insult. It’s an insult to the person you’re talking about and it’s an insult to his parents. No matter what you think of me or your father, your grandmother was a good, God-fearing woman, and I will not have you insulting her. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to insult you or Grandma, but I did mean to insult Dad. He had no business leaving us alone like that. All the time Mom was sick he did absolutely nothing. He hardly even spoke to her. He just sulked in his study. Then when she died he blew his brains out and I’m really angry about all that. If I can’t call him that word, what can I call him?”
“I don’t know,” Grandpa replied more calmly, “but what I do know is that you don’t really know anything about your father, do you?”
“I guess not. I don’t even remember ever talking much with him. He never talked about his life up here or college, or his work. He just never said much at all.”
“Then I need to educate you. Did you know that your father had two brothers?” I shook my head. “The three boys were Glen, the oldest, your father John, who was five years younger, and Tyler, who we always called ‘Tiger.’ He was two years younger than your father. Got that so far?” I nodded, wondering where these uncles of mine were hiding.
“Glen was admired by everybody. He was a hard-worker, a good student, and a fine athlete. In high school, he was a star on the football team, the basketball team, and the baseball team. Wasn’t any sort of sport he couldn’t play and play well. When he graduated he was the valedictorian of his class.”
I thought briefly that I had to tell this news to Jesse.
“John, your father, worshipped Glen and tried to imitate everything he did. Unfortunately for John he wasn’t as gifted an athlete. He was an OK student, but his main strength was his work on the farm. When we were haying, he could do the work of any two other men. The chores you three boys are doing he could take care of all by himself and still leave time to work in the vegetable garden in the summer.
“Tiger of course looked up to both of his brothers, but Glen was seven years older than he was so he didn’t spend much time with him. Tiger and John were inseparable.
“Their mother, your grandmother, was a saint, and I’m sorry you never knew her. She cared for the boys, did all the cooking and washing, kept the house spotless, took care of our clothes, and worked in the garden. She loved to read, and if her mending was done she would sit by the fire in the evening reading a book from the library. When your father was ten, she got pregnant even though she was a little beyond the age when women usually do that. I suppose it was my fault, and I’ve never forgiven myself. Two months before she was due, she suddenly went into hard labor, collapsing on the kitchen floor with all of us there. Lord knows I tried to help her, but by the time the doctor got here, it was all over. The baby, another boy, was dead and your grandmother had bled to death.”
Oh shit, I thought.
“The boys were frantic as she lay there dying. I’m not sure Tiger really knew what was happening, but the other two did, and they never forgave me for getting her pregnant.
“John was especially angry. Of the three of them, he was probably the closest to her. He spent days alone upstairs in the bedroom crying. He refused to eat and he yelled at anybody who came in the room. I let the other two boys sleep in my room and I camped out on the sofa. Finally, I called the doctor, who came and gave John a shot of something and me a bottle of pills to give him. I guess they were for depression. After the shot, John slept for forty-eight hours, not even waking to go to the bathroom. After that, he came downstairs, but it was clear that I never again had his respect.
“He and Tiger grew even closer; Tiger followed him everywhere. One day in the fall of the next year, John went hunting rabbits, which he was not supposed to do without me or Glen with him. He went anyway and Tiger followed along. I never knew exactly what happened except that John tripped. The gun went off and Tiger screamed so loud I heard him at the house. I raced out into the field to find John dissolved in tears and Tiger lying face up with his eyes open and a look of horror on his face. He was barely breathing, and before I could do anything, he died in my arms.
“This time it was John who felt terribly guilty. He smashed the gun and even tried to smash his head, banging it on a wall. He never got over grieving for his little brother. I often saw him out by the graves in the meadow with flowers in his hand, just talking to Tiger.
“Glen graduated from high school and joined the Navy. After his basic training he told us he wanted to be a Navy SEAL. I didn’t even know what that was until he told us. The training was very demanding but he did it and he loved it. I don’t know whether you know it or not, but a lot of the work the SEALS do is classified. We never had anything but the vaguest idea of where he was or what he was doing.
“One day while I was working in the garden, a car drove up and a Navy officer got out. We sat on the porch while he told me that Glen had died during a military operation. He couldn’t tell us what Glen was doing or how he had died. Three weeks later another Navy car drove up. The man in it gave me a box which was about one foot square and three or four inches high. That was all that was left of Glen, just a few belongings. I have no idea where he was buried.
“I think that finished your father. He kept working but he was never happy again. He seldom spoke and finally the other kids at school just avoided him.
By this time tears were flowing freely down both our faces. “So you see,” Grandpa continued, “your father knew nothing but loss as he was growing up. Somehow he got through high school and college and he got a good job and married a wonderful woman. But from the time he left for college he never spoke to me again. It was your mother who kept in touch, telling me about all of you. In the last couple of years, of course, I didn’t hear much, and then her notes stopped altogether. I didn’t know anything more until you called.
“Gregory, I know why you’re angry, and I would be myself, but I think your father just had too much loss, and your mother’s death drove him over the edge. I can’t excuse what he did. I can’t ever excuse the fact that he left the three of you alone. I believe suicide is wrong, but I think I do understand it, and I hope in time you can understand it too.”
I sat, weeping. Finally I said, “My God, Grandpa, that’s a terrible story. I had no idea of all that. He never said a word. Neither did Mom and I don’t even know if she knew.”
“She did because I told her before they married. It probably wasn’t my place but I wanted her to know what she was getting into.”
“Then she never told us. I guess she was trying to protect him.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes before I said, “Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine how you survived through it all.”
“You do what you have to,” Grandpa replied. “You just keep going. Eventually the pain gets a little less sharp but it never goes away.”
I stood up, went around to Grandpa and gave him a hug. “Thank you for telling me. It must have been awfully hard for you.” Grandpa hugged me back and then I asked, “Do you mind if I go upstairs for a little while? I have a lot to think about.”
“You go ahead. I’ll tell your brothers to do your chores just for tonight.” Nodding, I left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to the bedroom, where I threw myself on my bed and wept.
The next day I told Derek about our father and uncles, but I said nothing to Teddy. One night when we were alone, I apologized to Grandpa for having been so angry and difficult. He accepted the apology quietly, saying that he certainly understood why I was angry. I guess I never really lost all that anger, but I tried to treat everybody better from then on.