Henry didn't say anything for several miles. Marty wasn't pouting but he was a little worried. He wondered if Uncle Henry was mad at him. Henry looked at the boy and said, "We've been driving for about ten minutes. Aren't you more comfortable in here than you would be in the Jeep?"
Marty was relieved. "Oh, ya. This is better for a long ride."
"Did you learn something about loving people?"
Marty had to think for a while. "You can't be selfish if you love somebody?"
"That's a good way to say it. Being loved doesn't mean always getting your way. See, little buddy, I know both of these cars. I know this one is better for long trips. I'm 67 years old. You're nine. Isn't 67 years a lot longer to learn things than 9 years?"
"Oh, ya."
"What I'm trying to tell you is that sometimes when you really love someone, you have to make them do things they don't want to do because you know what's better. Do you think you understand what I'm telling you?"
"If you love somebody, you ride in their car and not in their Jeep?"
"Well, not exactly. Two things. When people love each other, they try to think as much about what the other person wants as they do about what they want—and most times when an older person asks you to do something, he does it because he loves you and knows it's good for you."
"I like it when you say you love me."
"I like saying it, and I very much like loving you."
Marty pulled Uncle Henry's right arm to him and kissed the man's hand.
Marty was, indeed, a chatterbox. By the time they reached the zoo, Henry knew really more than he wanted to know about Uncle Cecil, Aunt Myrt, and all the kids at the Group Home. It did little, for example, to enhance his store of knowledge to know that Freddy pooped his pants, that he didn't do a whole poop but that he didn't know how to clean his bottom good. Larry teased him and Linda yelled at him when she had to help Aunt Myrt with the washing. Henry did feel some sympathy for Freddy when he learned that when Linda yelled at him, he would cry, pull himself into a fetal (Henry's word, not Marty's) position and suck his thumb and that Freddy was already ten years old.
Henry was later to learn that CPS had knowingly left Freddy with a mother who walked around all day with a coffee cup of beer, that his younger siblings had run naked as Freddy probably had and that excrement was left where it fell or was smeared on walls by childish hands. Freddy and his four half siblings were placed in foster care only when the county tore down the house which had been condemned for over a year by both the county health department and the county building inspector. Kate Burtch knew of the condemnation but, of course, was furious when she had to find new homes for the children. Someone was making her do something and she, not someone else was in charge of those kids.
She placed Freddy in the Group Home but she wasn't going to completely lose the battle. Henry was also to learn that Kate had convinced Mildred Medsker to return the favor and take the mother and four younger children onto the rolls of Dane County. This situation was, however, too much even for Mildred. The four younger children were placed in foster care in the Madison area. The mother disappeared and had not been heard from in over two years.
Termination of parental rights proceedings was underway on all five children. Wisconsin law required that those proceedings be initiated if a custodial parent did not pursue contact with a child for eighteen months. Kate was not pleased but this was one time when Mervin Gross insisted that the law be followed.
Marty continued his chatter. David and Debby were eight. They were twins and they cried all the time. Their mom and dad had been killed in a car crash and they didn't have no grandma or nothin'. Aunt Myrt said that Miss Bitch should take them to see a biologist but Miss Bitch said they'd get over it.
Henry asked if maybe Aunt Myrt had said psychologist.
"Oh, ya, that."
Larry was thirteen and he had poverty. You could tell 'cause he talked funny.
"Could it be puberty that Larry has?"
"Oh, ya, that."
Anyway, Miss Bitch didn't want anyone with poverty at Aunt Myrt's. She was gonna get Larry a home in the country so he could learn how to take care of cows."
"Puberty."
"Oh, ya, that."
Linda was twelve and really bossy. Marty didn't know why Aunt Myrt thought he was bossy. If she wanted to see bossy, she should look at Linda. Linda's mom was in jail and if you asked Linda why, she'd yell at you and hit you. She was nice to Debby though.
Uncle Cecil was funny. Marty liked Uncle Cecil. He didn't love him like he did Uncle Henry but he liked him.
Aunt Myrt could cook real good but Larry always took too much and there wasn't hardly none left for the other kids. Uncle Cecil said he was sorry but a boy growing as fast as Larry needed to eat good and he couldn't get no more food on the money Miss Bitch gave him. We wasn't starvin' anyway. When he was a young 'un in Mississippi, he lived on possum and poke sallit and not a whole lot of that. We should be thankful for what we got.
"What's poke sallit?"
"I'm not sure. I've heard of it. Do you know what spinach is?"
"It's what Popeye eats. I seen him on TV at Billy Butler's house once."
"I think poke sallit is something like spinach.
"Is spinach good?"
"I always liked it."
"Billy hates it. He said he thinks mothers just made up Popeye so kids would eat spinach."
"Is Billy your friend?"
"Not no more. He told me that his mother said I stink and I can't come back to his house no more. Him and Greg Hager always call me Stealer.
"Why do they call you that?"
"Greg said his dad said I was a stealer 'cause I get free lunch."
For only a brief moment Marty looked as if he were about to cry. But he pulled himself together and said brightly, "You know what? David Marshall's my friend now. He said his dad told him that he took care of me. David asked me what was wrong with my butt. He knows his dad only takes care of people's butts."
"Did you tell him?"
"I said some druggy hurt me. I didn't tell him how.
"You know what? Adonis Jackson used to hate me 'cause he says I stole his friend. I didn't steal David. He just come to me. Anyway, David ain't 'sposed to play with Adonis if he keeps sayin' nigger. Adonis said he won't say it no more so we all play together. David said that his dad would beat his black ass if he says that word again. Is ass a bad word?"
"Let's just say it's not a nice word."
"How come can David be black? He's kind of yellow."
"Do you know what the color tan looks like?"
"Oh, ya. David's tan. How come if he's tan, he's black?"
"David is tan because he's both black and white. David's mother is white.
"When talking about black people, 'Black' isn't so much a color as it is a group of people. It's like 'boy'. Not all boys look alike and not all black people look alike."
"If David's mother is white, why ain't David white even if he's tan and if he's tan, how can he have a black ass?"
"Oh, boy, now we're dealing in semantics."
"What's that?"
"Something that might be too confusing for someone who's nine."
"Oh, ya. It's about sex stuff."
"No, it's not about sex stuff. It's about words and how they're used. If I tried to explain it, we would just get more and more mixed up."
"Are you mad at me? Uncle Cecil says I ask too many questions."
"No, I'm not mad at you and you don't ask too many questions. You just ask questions that are hard to explain to a boy who's nine."
"You know what? I don't care if David's ass is black or tan."
Neither did Henry and he was glad when the conversation moved on to a somewhat detailed description of most of the kids in the third grade at Jefferson school.
When they got to the zoo, Henry found that the boy could move as fast as he could talk. Henry was in pretty good shape but he wasn't nine. As a ruse to get some needed rest Henry would occasionally buy Marty some snack and insist that it should be eaten while sitting on one of the park benches.
There were also too many things about emus and gnus and Abyssinian asses that Henry didn't know. And, yes, it was nice to call them asses. Thank God there was an Encyclopedia of World Animals in the gift shop. For a book of that quality $40.00 certainly was not out of line. It was a big book, coated paper, color pictures and appeared to cover every species known to man. Marty was ecstatic.
McDonald's was just as exciting but did not bring on the frenzy of bussing it had the last time. From his experiences that day, Henry was sure that the boy's reservoir of questions had not run dry, and probably never would, but that his reservoir of seemingly boundless energy had. There just wasn't enough gas left for Marty to put on a performance. He leaned against Uncle Henry as they stood in line and had to fight to keep from dozing off as he finished his Happy Meal. He didn't even take the cellophane off the toy. He was asleep before they pulled out of the parking lot.
Again blessed was the word as Henry glowed at the hint of a smile on the face of the peacefully sleeping boy cuddled into his lap. He'd learned a great deal about nine-year-old boys that day, particularly this boy. The constant chatter and questions—many quite probing and mature for a nine-year-old boy—wearied Henry a little but never annoyed him. If Henry thought he loved the boy that morning, he was completely sure of it that night—and it wasn't the pity Henry first felt it to be. He loved the bright, curious, energetic, feisty boy that was Marty Toliver. He loved Marty Toliver—the boy, not the horrors of his history. He tucked Marty into bed, kissed his cheek, crawled into the other bed and hoped Annie could see him now and see the boy. Annie would have loved Marty as he did. Joy was something they had always shared with each other and he had to think of Annie now and share this joy with her.
Marty was mildly disappointed that room service did not have Happy Meals. He had been flabbergasted at the opulence of the room in which he'd spent the night. Marty's word, of course, was not opulence. He had pronounced the room, "Really, really, really, really, really neat." That man who brought his breakfast had called him Sir. The Belgian waffle that Uncle Henry thought he'd like was really, really good. It occurred to Marty that perhaps there were things in life other than McDonalds. He also wished that Billy Butler's mother had been there to hear that man call him Sir. You don't call people who stink, or are stealers, Sir.
Not much was open on Sunday morning so Henry drove Marty to see places he thought might interest the boy. When they drove past Wrigley Field, Marty thought he was looking at heaven. Henry was to learn that Marty was a very knowledgeable baseball fan. Seeing Wrigley Field made a trip to the south side and Comiskey Park a necessity. There were the huge buildings and the ride on the El, and the museums—Field Museum of Natural History and the Museum of Science and Industry. Marty had ever heard of either, but they sounded interesting and engendered a promise from Uncle Henry to come back when they had time to visit them properly. Soldier Field where the Bears played was right next to the Field Museum but Marty was not that impressed. The Bears wasn't as good as the Packers.
They had lunch at the Signature Room on the ninety-fifth floor of the John Hancock Center. It was a clear day and Marty went into sensory overload. You could see Lake Michigan and if you looked at the right place you could see them museums and Comiskey Park. Marty was excited but he also seemed to understand that this wasn't the kind of place to act silly. Henry, knowing the way the boy exuded joy, was surprised and proud at Marty's restraint. He was excited but appropriately excited for such a dignified place.
They also had this huge table with all kinds of stuff to eat. They didn't have Happy Meals but some of the stuff was good. Uncle Henry took some artiechokes.
"Artichokes."
"Oh, ya, that."
Marty wanted to taste them. Yak! Marty thought they could probably make more money if they had Happy Meals. He bet nobody in the world except Uncle Henry ate artiechokes.
"Artichokes."
"Oh, ya, that."
They headed back north and stopped at FAO Schwartz on Michigan Ave. Marty had never seen so many toys. Uncle Henry told him he could pick out anything he wanted but how could you decide from all that stuff? Marty had had or had seen so few toys in his life that he didn't know what most of them were. How can you tell what you want to play with when you have never learned to play with things? Marty knew only how to play in his imagination.
Henry decided for him. He bought a toy rifle and a child-size pith helmet and safari suit. They bought other things that Marty didn't understand and some that he did, like his very own baseball glove and bat and an Atari like Billy Butler had. He didn't know why Uncle Henry bought the safari suit. He wasn't gonna wear them kind of dumb clothes to school. But, when they got to the book store Marty understood. He found a book about an African Safari. On the cover was a picture of a boy in them kind of clothes.
Marty knew about books. He spent a lot of time in the school library but he'd never had his own books. He left the store with twelve—well, thirteen if you counted the Encyclopedia of World Animals.
At the department store, Henry had to choose most of the clothes. It was obvious that Marty was winding down. After two rather fast-paced days, Marty was asleep before they hit the Wisconsin line.
They made the one hundred thirty mile trip in about two hours. Henry was surprised. Sunday traffic in the Chicago area was usually a pain in the—. Well, Milwaukee wasn't quite as bad but big city traffic was a major reason that Henry now lived in Jefferson.
Copyright © 2004 Gordon Klopfenstein
Posted 23 November 2024