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Chapter 74-An Ethnic Face
Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST
"The Boston Symphony Orchestra recorded Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony in 1928," said Miss Shaffer holding up a shiny disc for all the room to see. "It was one of the first recordings of a Beethoven Symphony. It took place before the Vienna Symphony made any Beethoven recordings and, of course, Vienna was the orchestra that first performed Beethoven. I think; in any case, Vienna was his home town orchestra."
All of this information went right over the heads of a room full of sixty graders, except in Daniel's case, thanks to the tutelage of his Aunt Henrietta.
"The Conductor was Serge Koussevitzky and the recording was made by Victor Records. In this case, it was one of the first recordings to use microphones instead of megaphones. Who knows what a megaphone was?"
Daniel held up his hand. "It was a large cone-shaped device that captured sound. My grandmother has a picture of a small dog barking into one."
"Yes," said Miss Shaffer, "that was a trademark-dog barking into a megaphone which was attached to a record cutting stylus. That's where the expression ‘cutting a record' came from. The stylus was activated by vibrations and it cut a pattern into the master disc which determined the sound." And so Miss Shaffer played the record which had a tiny patina of static.
Miss Shaffer was more relaxed now that she was dealing with Daniel as a teacher and their exchange had been normal enough-routine. No one, least of all these students, would detect anything untoward she thought; but she was deeply ashamed. Daniel was a child; on the other hand, he was more intelligent and more talented than many grown men.
That was certainly true in the case of Cliff Van Oster. Cliff had relieved her of her virginity the year she turned twenty-seven, a virginity that by then had become an onerous burden. It was something she had cherished in the beginning until it became a thing constantly defended and finally it became a burden she knew she must rid herself of.
Van Oster was a mountain of a man-six feet, four inches-and large, though not fat. He was the proprietor of a music store in the village-Osterville Music where she went often to buy sheet music and other musical supplies. When the time came, Cliff Van Oster worked hard at making love, but there was no satisfaction in it and he did not cure the urge that overwhelmed her, the urge that filled her up like a balloon that only she knew how to burst. And even this filled her with guilt, the same kind of guilt she felt looking at Daniel who was engrossed in the music--------but he was not so engrossed that he hadn't thought of Miss Shaffer. She sat on a stool in front of the class, her eyes closed listening.
She has nice legs, Daniel thought as if he had not noticed them before. Her body was nice too-thin and soft looking, but he did not want to think about these things. He did not want (using the phrase of his friends) "to get a woody." Oh, God, please no, he thought and then it struck him suddenly that Miss Shaffer looked a little bit like his grandmother must have looked when she was young. She had large eyes, an aquiline nose and full lips. These features were crowned by black lavender hair. He wondered what she would look like naked.
Sophie Shaffer somehow sensed his thoughts as she tried to picture Daniel as a grown man-well, at least twenty-one. In that case he would just be her junior by ten years. This thought led to a question in her mind, "How had she managed to spend ten years in New York and not find someone for herself?" She had been so ambitious although by the time she turned twenty-one, she had given up the idea of becoming a concert pianist-it simply required too much.
In her village apartment she listened as her upstairs neighbor, Jared Steiner, practiced eight to ten hours every day. He spent three or four hours on scales alone. But the thing about his practicing that really intimidated her was the hour or two he spent each afternoon practicing jazz. He could play bluesy tetrachords* with lightening speed. She had picked out the notes and played them on her own piano in the key of C, the bottom lick would be C, G, F# F, Eb and C again. Playing these in a jazzy fashion required some glissando as in slurring the G down to the F#. She could never get the hang of it and finally she reached a conclusion that said she didn't like to practice enough to learn Rachmaninoff's Second Piano Concerto in Cm, her favorite piece. Nor would she ever be able to play jazz. Virgins can't play jazz, she reasoned-only slutty types could get loose enough metaphorically and physically to play jazz. "Get funky" was as foreign to her as a phrase in Mandarin but she did not give up trying to be a Cabaret Singer and she taught piano and waitressed through years of auditions.
She felt very sad thinking about this until she caught the sparkle in Daniel's eyes. "Oh, God," she said to herself, "why is life so unfair?" She remembered the words of Irving Schuster who never quite became her agent.
"Why do you let that old Yid sniff around on you?" her roommate had demanded.
Well, for one thing, Irving had connections and he never got out of line but there was never anything formal in their relationship either. He tried to get her work but finally told her in their last meeting, "I think your real problem is stiffness. You're just too stiff. You need to learn to relax and connect with your audience."
"So, it's not the way I look?" she asked, "because all of the musical auditions I've been to are filled up with little, cute pug-nosed blonds who look like Peggy Lee."
"Well, that could be part of it," said Irving, "I think you're beautiful; when I look right into your eyes I see a hunger and a desire that is unfortunately cancelled, as I said before, by your rather stiff attitude. You know, there's something ironic in all this. You have the kind of face that's good for comedy; but as a night club singer, it might be a little too ethnic."
*The lower half of a scale (the tonic to the dominant) or the upper half of a scale, (the dominant to the octave)
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Chapters change on Tuesdays and Friday Evenings:
Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dan and Dad Show each Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read Sea Street-David Rojay's blog on capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".
Check out my Sea Street Blog: "Obama's Katrina".
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Chapter 73-Diaphragmatic Breathing
Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST
One day as Daniel approached the band room, he heard an endless tone that modulated between resonance and noise. Entering, he saw Spanky Gill surrounded by the school principal, Mr. Northbridge (the band director) and various teachers and students. Spanky sat blowing into his mellophone*, his face slightly red and his eyes bulging. Mr. Northbridge had discovered that Spanky possessed the remarkable skill of circle breathing. This rare ability allowed its owner to breath in and blow out simultaneously.
"We'll have to call the newspapers," said Mr. Harris, the principal. "Perhaps get some pictures," added Mr. Northbridge. All this while Spanky continued to blow his singular note. Thus, Daniel learned his first lesson about fame. Spanky was not a good mellophone player, Daniel was a good trumpet player, but Spanky would have his picture in the paper, not Daniel.
This bothered Daniel to no end until he finally voiced his feelings to Miss Shaffer, the music teacher. She was not surprised at his complaint; she had gone through this too. A graduate of Juilliard, she had languished in New York with no success as a pianist or singer. She was very good in a technical sense but she soon realized that success often went to those who were different-those easily recognized by the crowd, not the cookie-cutter graduates of academia like herself. And so she empathized with Daniel.
This happened during one of several voice lessons she gave him after school. Taking note of his singing in music class, she was propelled to extend to him private instruction. Later she questioned her reasons. Had they to do with more than his voice? His eagerness perhaps, his beauty.
"Beauty?" her mother had asked one evening. "How can a boy be beautiful?"
"I don't know," answered Sophie Shaffer staring into the mirror above the dining room fireplace.
The next week, Daniel repeated the word "diaphragm" as Miss Shaffer placed his hand against her navel. She explained how diaphragmatic breathing was through the stomach and not the chest.
"Can you feel how my muscles move when I inhale?"
"Yes," answered Daniel as she placed her hand upon his flat abdomen.
A week later she demonstrated the lack of chest movement in correct breathing by placing Daniel's hand to the side of her breast so he could feel the flesh of her tit with his forefinger. By December she had revealed to him the fact that good diaphragmatic started somewhat below the tummy.
"But I can't show you," she added.
A week later she said, "Oh, piddle" and lowered his hand until his forefinger felt the outposts of an unknown region as she breathed in and out and began to perspire.
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A strange feeling Daniel could not name was more frequent now. One or more nights each week he awoke from a sweaty dream. He felt himself hard, as hard as wood. Miss Shaffer stepped into his thoughts and he touched himself with the same forefinger that had felt her panty line and the side of her breast. Suddenly a burning sensation preceded a surge of fluid. He had not peed; it was not water, but rather something else that came with an explosive tingle. In flashlight, he could see a substance unlike any he had known. He was fearful and afraid of dying. In the morning light, he felt that he had betrayed his love for Shauna.
Now, Baker Street was one block away from Franklin Avenue, which ran parallel to it. Howard Street ran north and south in front of the Weingartner residence and connected Baker Street and Franklin. On one corner of this connection sat Franklin Drugs, complete with a pharmacist, a selection of notions and a soda fountain eight stools long. Although it did not compare to Gus the Greek's in Fairhaven, it was none-the-less an impressive source of sundaes, sodas and incredible banana splits. Daniel came here to buy comic books more often than sodas, but this day he sat alongside Sid Weingartner who declined any sweets.
"They tear down your health," he said matter-of-factly. Daniel was amazed at this. He had brought Sid here to feed him treats and hopefully get around, in the most round-about way, to discussing what ailment might cause searing sensation and ejaculation, but Sid's refusal left him confused and he lapsed into silence. His thoughts wandered to Shauna who was in some way connected to all this. He had never had an impure thought about her. Even though one time he had diverted her and her girlfriend on their way home long enough to see the word "FUCK" painted beneath the cemetery creek bridge in Fairhaven. He regretted that now. Indeed, so much regret built up inside him that tears rolled down his cheeks.
"The best thing to do when you're sad is to pray," said Sid. "That's what I do."
Daniel knew Sid told the truth but he knew he could not pray about this.
The next morning, as he delivered papers, he realized the worst part of his sin. It had been to think he could forget Shauna, that he could find someone like her, and he suddenly realized the only girl or woman he had ever touched was Miss Shaffer, at least she was the only one who made him feel strange. But what about Wendy, the baby-sitter? He slammed the door on these thoughts as his face reddened. Miss Shaffer had let him, helped him touch the soft places and as he thought of this he became stiff again. He was now near hysteria-on one side sat his hard penis and the burning memory of Miss Shaffer's fleshy pubic mound and on the other sat pure Shauna and Jesus and his mother and the threat of damnation. Back and forth they struggled until the friction of his bicycle seat brought on the same inevitable explosion he had experienced two nights before.
"Whoa," he shouted, but the force was unstoppable. He hurriedly braked the bike, unzipped his trousers and looked down to see the mess below.
"Oh, my God!" he trembled as he looked around in every direction but saw no one.
But as he rode away, a strange peace settled upon him, not only was he relieved, but he no longer felt ill at heart.
In a strange symmetry, Sophie Shaffer, music teacher, faithful daughter and probable spinster awoke with wet loins. She had dreamt about the boy and had so scared herself that she told him, "I must discontinue our voice lessons because my mother is not well and I must get home to her after school."
She gave him a copy of Walter Piston's book on harmonic theory. "I don't know if you'll understand this," she said, "but you did say you wanted to write some music and this book will help you do that."
*A simplified version of the French Horn, usually in Bb with valves and a Cornet mouthpiece so that it can easily be played by a Cornetist or Trumpet Player
___________________________________________________________________
Chapters change on Tuesdays and Friday Evenings:
Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dan and Dad Show each Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read Sea Street-David Rojay's blog on capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".
Check out my Sea Street Blog: "Obama's Katrina.
Chapter 72-Evansville
Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST
Daniel, Glenn, Dorothy and Derrick moved to Evansville in late spring and lived for a while in a neighborhood that lay next to the river on the eastern edge of the city. Derrick was just over a year old-starting to walk and mumble a few words. Dorothy had to constantly explain his name by saying, "His daddy is in the oil business, get it."
In short order the cocker spaniel had pups, Dorothy killed a baby snake with a huge rock and Cheryl came to visit and slept on the living room floor in her underwear.
On his first day in the new school, Daniel's accent evoked laughter. When asked by the teacher to describe himself and what he liked to do he answered, "I like to feesh and play gulf." He had never played golf but thought doing so was impressive.
His teacher mediated the laughter that followed by saying, "Daniel has a slight accent. Now, repeat after me Daniel, f...i...s...h--fish and g...o...l...f--golf." Daniel strained at the new pronunciation evoking more gales of laughter.
That evening he set aside a notebook in which to write down daily events. He felt somehow, after this humiliating day, that being friendless would be easier if he kept a record....................
He wrote:
May 9--I ate lunch alone again today but there are picnic tables beside the playground so it wasn't so bad.
May 17-Met the boys next door, Sean and Kyle. They don't go to my school; they go to the Catholic School. They are my age; all they talk about is football. They are very rough. The catholic schools play tackle football, but the public schools play touch.
May 19--I think Sean and Kyle's older brother, Mike, has his eye on Cheryl. He has red hair.
May 22--Glenn teased Cheryl about Mike and called him a mama's boy because he still lives at home and he's twenty-eight.
May 26--I went into the woods with Kyle and Sean and some other boys and we found big barrels of rotting cheese, there were lots of them. Kyle said they were dumped by Kraft's Cheese Company.
May 27--I accepted a ride from the guy who hangs around the bus stop. I rode on his motorbike and he put his hand between my legs. I was afraid to tell mom.
June 1--I went to see Kyle and Sean play in a football game. Kyle's shoulder was dislocated when he was tackled. He was in a lot of pain.
June 2--Glenn teased Cheryl about Mike again and she got mad and said he was a perfect gentleman. They had a date last night. Glenn told a joke, he said 'Jesus was Irish because he lived at home until he was thirty, thought his mother was a virgin and she thought he was God.' Mom got mad and said his joke was blasphemous.
June 3--I really don't like my school. I have no friends and I feel strange there. I'm glad we're moving into the city soon.
Daniel lost his journal in the process of moving.
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The new house, a red brick bungalow, sat across the street from a large Victorian frame. These two houses pre-dated the endless row houses of the neighborhood, houses that stood side by side, identical in their plainness, separated only by a mean walkway that went from a small patch of front yard to a meager backyard that ended with a shed on the alley. The houses had small porches from which one could view a similar porch across the street. There was no shrubbery or flowers, just an occasional tree. This gray-sided neighborhood stretched in every direction.
Miles to the west were the fine homes of Reitz Hill which looked down upon the zoo. To the north were stockyards and the old municipal stadium. In the east lay the new suburbs and to the south, the river and downtown.
The first person Daniel met in this place was Sid Weinhoffen, a handsome boy of fifteen who stopped his bicycle and asked a series of direct questions.
"I've never known anyone in the oil business before," he said with a wrinkled brow. "Most of the people around here work either at the stockyards or the refrigerator factory. Of course my dad sells Encyclopedias and my mom works at the grocery store."
A girl in shorts called out from the Weinhoffen backyard which sat perpendicular to Baker Street, "Supper's ready."
Daniel learned the next day that Sid was a newsboy and that there were "routes open all the time". This could lead to a bicycle Daniel thought. To his surprise, Glenn readily agreed and made him the owner of a Schwinn "Airstream".
"Now you've gotta make the money to pay for this," Glenn said as he tightened the bolt on the sheepskin seat.
Daniel rode the bike until dark, following Sid through the neighborhood. Glenn was waiting when he returned.
"You've only had the thing one day and you're screwing up already," Glenn said, "You're mom's worried sick about you."
Daniel heard a list of stern rules as he gulped down his supper of meatloaf and boiled corn.
The next day at the Courier Journal, Daniel waited for Mr. Petrie for over an hour before a short balding man appeared. He was accompanied by a tall, gray fellow who had seen Marilyn Monroe in "Niagara" the night before.
"She walked into the room," he said, "and there was only one thing on my mind."
"What was that?" Daniel asked.
Both men laughed, especially Charles Petrie, who liked Daniel immediately. "Look, what I got, kid, is a route right down town. In fact, you'll be delivering within a block of this building," he said.
Daniel was very impressed. He didn't realize how dangerous the downtown route was.
Petrie picked him up the following morning and, to Daniel's surprise, walked the route with him.
Evansville was the largest town Daniel had lived in and he was in wonder of the tall buildings and massive municipal structures. For a while, the city stood empty in the darkness; then, bathed in first light, a morning sub life emerged. Garbage collectors, maintenance men, Casanovas and cleaning ladies.
At MAUDE'S CAFE (a small diner on a side street near the bus depot) Petrie introduced Daniel to Curtis, a shriveled old gent, who ran the card game upstairs. Two policemen sat drinking free coffee. Maude turned over hotcakes on the grill until she came over and pinched Daniel's cheek. "He's a cutie pie, isn't he," she said as Petrie laughed and patted Daniel's head.
On the mornings that followed, Daniel folded his papers in the lobby of the Tony Building then, taking the elevator to the top; he worked his way down, a floor at a time. He dreaded this descent full of dark corridors, but the sweet part was fifty papers dropped in ten minutes.
After he finished, Daniel often went to MAUDE'S, except when the police were there (they always wanted free papers).
Curtis, the gambler, liked Daniel as did his consort, Sophie, a large woman in a blonde wig; they treated him to pastry and hot chocolate. At first, Daniel couldn't tell the night people from the morning people. He couldn't tell the Editor of the Courier Journal from a pimp.
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In the final days of summer, Daniel often biked to the school that sat two blocks from his home. What mysteries awaited at BAKER STREET ELEMENTARY, the sullen brick building gave no clue, neither did the over-grown grass nor the cindered schoolyard.
Glenn had bought the brick bungalow so Daniel knew he would live there for a while, long enough to learn the teacher's names, long enough to have real friends and maybe even meet a girl like Shauna. But for now he knew no one but Sid Weinhoffen, a boy stronger, more handsome and more intelligent than himself. He couldn't dislike Sid for this because Sid was decent and fair but he worried that if Baker Street was full of boys like Sid he would not fit in.
On his first day in school, he met in short order Keith Conners, who offered him a malt ball and then tripped him, causing both trouser knees to be soiled and Barry Wilson who eyed him warily before mumbling curses. A short boy named John Calvin said, "Most of these guys are assholes."
The teachers were another matter. As a group, they were older than any Daniel had known, the exception being Miss Shaffer, the music instructor. It would not have occurred to Daniel that Baker Street, a poor school in a poor neighborhood, was a dumping ground for teachers near retirement. All the better from Daniel's view. He sensed their experience immediately and except for the embittered math instructress, they were a happy, genial lot. Mr. Bork taught English with great verve, pacing to and fro acting out the lines of poems; and Mr. Byrnes talked of history as if he had lived through it all. There was passion at Baker Street and Daniel felt at home.
Although he had always studied well, Daniel set a regimen for himself. Perhaps this came from a sense of security, of believing he could finally belong. Much to his mother's surprise, he purchased a used desk with his newspaper earnings and rearranged his room around a study area. By and by he bought a globe to set upon the desk and after that, a bookcase which slowly filled with books. He kept a schedule, practicing his trumpet immediately after school. Then he gave himself a short break. After supper and his bath, he entered his room determined not to leave until morning. Often, especially on weekends, he read far into the night. He had consumed all his textbooks by the end of October and began to check stacks of material out of the library.
Much of this was related to the Bible. Wanting to understand the times of Jesus, he checked out (on the recommendation of a librarian) "The Collected Works of Flavius Josephus". He understood little of what he read but the very incomprehensibility excited him. Perhaps this was due to his love of mystery and the unknown.
Once in bed, he tried self-hypnosis and attempted to levitate himself. He knew he could do it if only he found they key. After all, he had the will to survive impossible pain.
___________________________________________________________________
Chapters change on Tuesdays and Friday Evenings:
Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dan and Dad Show each Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read Sea Street-David Rojay's blog on capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".
Check out my Sea Street Blog: "The Golden Ass EMails.
Chapter 71-Kimberly's Decision
Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST
The Kentucky Derby was still on Gurion's mind when he returned home at midnight. Kimberly was not there and there was no indication that she had been there. Gurion fought the infuriation he felt in his chest; he would take some morphine to calm down and drive to the hospital.
In reality, the Fairhaven "Hospital" was a glorified clinic with ten rooms, a Registered Nurse on each shift, a Physician on call and one or two backups in the general area. Operations could be performed during the day-tonsillectomies and appendectomies-anything more complicated fell to Gurion. Various clubs-the Elks, the Lions, the Moose and others were conducting a drive to buy an X-Ray Machine. The nearest X-Ray was in Olney-twenty-seven miles away. There was an Emergency Room of sorts where broken limbs could be set and simple wounds could be treated. This is where Gurion found Kimberly applying a bandage to an accident victim.
"She's been here all day," said Dr. Neurenberg, "got here about 10:00 this morning."
Kimberly was not a nurse, but she had assisted Gurion in applying dressings and administering injections. Upon seeing her hard at work, Gurion repented of his anger and let it turn to love. "Sweetheart," he said when she ran to his arms.
Later, as Gurion lay awake listening to Kimberly's slight snore (something she denied having), he realized that she had underestimated his anger, his thought of leaving the country, his inclination to blame the Goyim for his troubles. Truth be known, the Goyim had not hampered Gurion; every door had been opened. Part of this was due to his personality; he was a likeable guy with special skills and ironically, he seemed more German than Jewish-even to other Jews. But his greatest dilemma was his ignorance of Kimberly. She was not a Jewish wife; the warmth was not there, the loyalty wasn't there-at least that's the way he saw it. Now, for the first time since their marriage, he tried to imagine their graves-headstones with both their names. On the other hand, he reflected on Kimberly as a teacher and a "nurse," on her great social presence. She was beautiful, glamorous, charismatic to a fault. Everyone thought he was the luckiest man alive; but still, her affair tore at him. He didn't deserve this, he said as he went to sleep, "I don't deserve this."
Kimberly rolled over and caressed him. "You never held my tit," she said; and with that, she placed his hand on her left breast and then she was gone-back to the world of dreams.
Gurion was wide-awake now, going over things in his mind. He realized that the trip to the Derby had brought the reality of Abe's death home to him. All hope had died in the car with Daniel and he was left like an envelope around a beating heart, the way he had been on the train out of Poland (Chapter 21). His emotional energy was all used up-all gone. He was drained; there was nothing left. Kimberly lay beside him-smart, cultured, up to a point, but abysmally ignorant of his suffering. Still, he would capitulate to her. Her willfulness was stronger than his. In the morning he would let her decide about the future-about Provincetown and all that. The future would be Kimberly's decision.
____________________________________________________________________
Chapters change on Tuesdays and Friday Evenings:
Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dan and Dad Show each Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read Sea Street-David Rojay's blog on capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".
Check out my Sea Street Blog: "The Golden Ass EMails.
Chapter 70-The Kentucky Derby
Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST
When Gurion asked to take Daniel to the Kentucky Derby, Dorothy, having repented of her past feelings, readily agreed. There was a day of frenzied shopping to be sure Daniel was properly dressed and although Glenn fretted about the cost, Dorothy knew they could afford it.
Gurion knew this outing with Daniel was foolish. He would spend the trip suspended in reality. Each time he looked at Daniel, he would see Abe. Abe in a new land on a trip with his father. If he tried hard enough, he could even imagine Anna waiting for their return. The festive table set beneath candlelight and her voice saying, "mien menchen, my men".
But Daniel would not cooperate with Gurion's dreams. He talked and asked questions that interrupted Gurion's fantasy and at a roadside cafe he insisted on eating a cheeseburger, a repugnant juxtaposition of cheese and cooked flesh.
"Should I tell him I've thought about going to Israel?" Gurion wondered. "Perhaps he doesn't even know of such a place."
When Gurion knew that Kimberly was unfaithful, he had contacted Eugene Zinov, a Ukrainian from Odessa. Eugene had gone to Palestine in 1935 and now lived in Haifa where he ran a dress factory.
"I live near the B'Hai Temple," he wrote, "with a view of the sea. My diet is a healthy mixture of vegetables, fruits and nuts and pita, humus and falafel. The sun shines every day and the women are beautiful and athletic."
When Daniel fell asleep on the back seat, Gurion began to think about his reasons for thinking of Israel. Was it because of the letter from Werner Fiedler? A letter so full of the Zionist zeal, describing a life so different from Gurion's double existence, an existence that held not only his own world but also the charade world, the one he must exist in-among the ignorant Christians, but also the ignorant Jews of Fairhaven. He was a man out of place and time, lost with only his memories and letters that promised reconnection.
But something had triggered this state of mind. Every Wednesday afternoon since Kimberly's affair, he had driven to Evansville to escape the small town ennui. Evansville was the right size city, not as large and difficult as St. Louis. There, he could relax and be anonymous. He often drank on Wednesday night to a degree which would have created a scandal in Fairhaven; and even more "ver botten," he had visited the prostitutes on High Street. These visits invariably filled him with melancholy and guilt, not only because they reminded him of Kimberly's affair, but also of his loveless life.
Still, the real reason for his journeys to Evansville was to see a psychologist recommended to him by Andrew Klein, a doctor at Evansville Hospital. This young woman, with the German name, Holstein, seemed unsure of herself yet readily proffered advice, which Gurion recognized as being from text books rather than experience. Still, he liked her and looked forward to their sessions which alleviated his depression. She would never have guessed she was more a diversion to him than a doctor; and yet one day after a rather sophomoric remark about suffering, Gurion blurted, "What do you really know about suffering?"
Miss Holstein's throat began to blotch; she coughed nervously. "I know I can't really relate to your trauma, Dr. Gurion, I can only do what I've been trained to do; but sometimes when I'm at a loss about something as you are now, I simply drop to my knees and call on the Lord."
After that, Gurion knew why he could not stay in America.
But today would be different. Since his early days spent at Hoppegarten,* he had loved horses, racing horses. He knew how they had evolved from Arabian steeds and he knew how the Arabs loved their horses and in Bedouin encampments even slept with them.
The favorite in today's derby was Middleground. "When you get to the Derby bet on Middleground; he'll win hands down."
Gurion knew nothing more that this. He would put every other thought out of his mind. He would decide later on whether to go to Cape Cod with Kimberly or not but today, he would find an island of peace in his life, he hoped.
In the late afternoon of that day, when shadows grew noticeably and the first thoughts of coming night were felt, the trumpeter sounded "Post Call". This most difficult and beautiful of fanfares seemed to hold back the shadows but only temporarily as sentiment fell upon the crowd.
One by one the horses left the paddocks slowly prancing toward the gate, the light and the distance turned their motion into a southern dream.
A hush fell as the crowd began to sing, "My Old Kentucky Home". Every heart was dealt a challenge to forget the beauty of that moment.
As Daniel joined in the anthem, he looked up at Gurion whose eyes had filled with tears. He looked afar off into the distance and said, remembering Hoppegarten, "I wonder, I wonder what time it is in Berlin?"
After the race, in the car driving back to Fairhaven, Daniel wanted to inquire about Gurion's words but he did not. They spoke little; Gurion realized the distance between the American child and himself. This would be their last trip together.
*Berlin Racetrack
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Chapters change on Tuesdays and Friday Evenings:
Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dan and Dad Show each Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read Sea Street-David Rojay's blog on capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".
Check out my Sea Street Blog: "All Gab and No Jab.
About This Blog
The Long Bridge Runner is the first in a series of five books that are about
everything, and I mean everything.
But more specifically, the first book is about a young boy from the Midwest whose life is saved by a survivor of Auschwitz, Dr. Isaac Gershon.
By David Rojay
Recent Comments
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