by W.H. Harrod
~~ Chapter Thirty-Three
“How am I ever going to hide this?” Allison frowned as she looked at the reflection of her bruised back and shoulder in the mirror the next morning. The thought occurred to her that she wouldn’t, nor should she. Scott needed to know what happened. She would never keep anything from him again, no matter what.
What a story I’m going to have to tell my poor husband, she thought as she prepared for the coming day. After she finished telling him of her experiences, she expected never to be allowed to leave home alone again. She had thought the story wild enough before yesterday, but when she added the melee they got caught up in last evening the whole thing came off as surreal. Maybe it is surreal, but it’s also over. It’s finished.
When they made it back to the professor’s rear apartment last night in the rescue van with Sam leading the way in the bus, they celebrated a joyous moment. How they escaped that mess with their lives and their freedom amounted to nothing less than a miracle. Once again, the young man driving the van expressed thanks and admiration for the heroic effort to save his friend. What the Dandelions had done represented the stuff of legends, he said before driving away into the night to prepare for the next day’s demonstrations.
The first thing the four did once they were safely inside the apartment was come together in an extemporaneous group hug. No one said anything for the longest time. No words adequately described the relief they felt at having survived being thrown into the arena again. Bobby succinctly summed things up once more with his now classic statement, “Damn, I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!” The group dissolved into unrestrained laughter before releasing their hold on one another. Standing apart they got a good look at the damage inflicted by the nightsticks. A trickle of blood ran down Sam’s neck from the abrasion on the side of his head. Allison’s hair looked as if she had been in a tornado and although you couldn’t see the welts on the back of her head and shoulder, her elbows were scraped and bleeding. One of the sleeves of Bobby’s fatigue jacket was torn, revealing another bloody elbow. The viewers could only imagine what his shins and knees looked like. Only Ernest looked anywhere close to normal.
This time Sam came up with the appropriate words for the situation. “You know, we are going to have to stop meeting like this!”
Once more laughter followed. Ernest prepared a pot of hot soothing herbal tea and persuaded them to sit down and allow the prolonged adrenalin rush to subside. Next, he forced them to spend time under a hot shower. After that, they hit the sack with Allison leading the way. She slept straight through until 6 a.m. the next morning.
Allison awoke with thoughts of calling home. She had thought about it last night, but Ernest suggested she wait until she calmed down a bit. She knew he was right; she would have scared her husband to death with her crying after coming so close to being beaten to death by a public official. She decided to wait until they headed to the airport. Having made this decision, she went quietly to the kitchen to make coffee.
With a fresh cup of hot coffee, she sat on the balcony enjoying the cool morning air while looking out over the bay. The ‘Best Grandma’ sweatshirt she wore warded off the chill accompanying the cool mist. She leaned back in her chair to close her eyes and reflect on the things that had happened to her since she left home a week ago today. The bump on her head reminded her of the brawl. Reaching up to massage her sore neck, Allison thought of the young girl. To have been able to prevent a public beating of an innocent girl and receive such a compliment as she did made her sore neck and the bump on her head worth it. How long she sat there half-thinking and half-dozing before Bobby returned from an early morning outing carrying two plastic bags full of goodies, she wasn’t sure.
Bobby didn’t have Allison’s talent for moving around the apartment quietly. You could hear him stomping up the steps a mile away and the front door slam from a block away before his initial morning greeting to Allison echoed throughout the apartment. Allison encouraged him to be more discreet, but it didn’t work. Bobby wasn’t one to pay attention to subtle signs and whispering pleas, so within minutes the newly awakened twosome of Ernest and Sam came clomping out of the bedroom rubbing their eyes.
“Hey fellas,” I walked down to the twenty-four hour market and picked up a few things for breakfast. I got the good stuff: donuts, some juice, and even a couple of apples for Allison. Come on over and dig in.”
Ernest went to splash some water on his face while Sam came straight to the table full of goodies. Allison poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table.
“How’s your head?” asked Allison. “Mine’s pretty much back to normal.”
Sam felt the side of his head before he answered. Ernest had put a bandage on the place where the skin was broken. “No complaints. I think I’m going to make it another day. The only thing I’m worried about is the bill Ernest is going to send me. I’m sure I’m going to have to get a loan to pay for it.”
“I heard that,” said a voice from behind Allison as Ernest returned to the room. “Looks like you’re going to be in luck as I still don’t know how the billing system in my son’s office works. It looks like you bunch of dead beats are going to get off light.”
As Ernest sat down at the table, Allison automatically shoved the bag of donuts his way. Ernest thought for a moment before he pushed the bag away and reached for one of the apples Bobby purchased with Allison in mind. Allison smiled in amazement at this unexpected event.
“Have you talked to Rosa Lee? I swear I haven’t said a word,” blurted Allison, fearful of being blamed for his wife finding out how badly he had eaten.
Ernest laughed. “That’s not it. I’ve been thinking that if I want to be around to enjoy these future outings we’re planning as a group, I should start practicing what I preach. Starting today, I’m going to try hard to eat more sensibly and not sit around watching sports on the tube so much. When we get together this fall at Bobby’s, I hope you will see a new man. Be forewarned that you will not be able to depend upon my heft to get you out of the next street fight.”
His three friends applauded, excited about the prospect of having their friend around longer and offered their congratulations and support for his new undertaking.
“Now to a more important topic: How are all of you feeling this morning? Is anything worse, any dizziness?” Ernest looked inquiringly at each of his friends as they responded in the negative. “Well, excellent then, and that will be another fifty bucks on each of your bills.”
The injured parties groaned at the announcement, and Sam said he was going to turn it over to his lawyer.
The laughter died down and gave Allison, always the organizer, an opportunity to bring up a couple of items she felt they needed to discuss. The first dealt with traveling schedules.
“Okay gang, I think we need to organize our plan to head to the airport so we can spend as much time visiting as possible before it’s time to go. My flight out of Oakland International takes off at 1:45 p.m., Bobby’s takes off at 11:30 a.m. from the same place, and Ernest’s leaves out of Oakland at 2:30 p.m. Since Bobby needs to be at the airport by 10:30 a.m. I suggest we leave here by 10 a.m. Anyone have another idea or suggestion?”
Bobby nodded his head in agreement as did Sam. Only Ernest failed to give an indication of his thoughts.
“What about you, Ernest? Do you want to go over earlier or later?” she asked.
Ernest looked up revealing a troubled man.
“I stayed awake most of the night thinking about the main reason I came out here with you wonderful people,” he said quietly. “From the moment I set foot in the bus in Memphis I had made up my mind. I told myself I was in the healing business, period. For a variety of basically selfish reasons I took no part in discussing or participating in the Right to Die controversy. I realize my decision was based upon not having had to ever deal with the slow agonizing death of a loved one. That has now changed. A dear friend has asked me as a friend to help him in this moment
of his great despair. I will not tell you what my intentions are, but I will tell you that I will not be flying home today after all. I’ll be staying awhile longer.”
There was no celebration or applause as before when Ernest announced his new food plan. No one jumped up, slapped him on the back, or said well done. Instead, they offered understanding smiles and looks of admiration. Once more, Allison looked from friend to friend appreciating her good fortune. She felt truly blessed to have these three good people in her life.
“Okay,” said Allison, “that takes care of the travel issue, so on to the last item on my list. What the hell do we do now? Apart from our personal triumphs, what have we accomplished? What do we need to do now as individuals and as a group? I am quite certain that violence only brings on more violence as we saw last night. I’m not sorry for what we did, but I am sorry we had to do it. Each act of violence, I am convinced, detracts from our message of peace. If they are able to draw us down to their level by inciting us to violence, then we have lost. Somehow we have to stay above that and use our role models to draw wisdom from those such as Martin Luther King and Gandhi.” Allison wasn’t done and her friends knew it.
“I guess what confuses me most is how seemingly intelligent people, and I include myself at times, are able to compartmentalize the issues into separate, disconnected sectors. How do peace marchers reconcile doing acts of destruction while promoting non-violence and peace? How are officers of the law able to convince themselves its part of their job to throw citizens they are sworn to protect to the street and beat them until they are unconscious? How can a predominantly Christian nation support the bombing of cities full of innocent women and children under any circumstance? How can the officers of giant corporations and their stockholders who have families, jobs, hopes, and dreams permit the systematic destruction and impoverishment of the entire middle class of wage earners in this country by allowing corporate officers to receive obscene and unjustified salaries while ensuring the few fortunate stockholders that double digit returns for their retirement portfolios are right around the corner? How is it that the local politicians, merchants, inn keepers, and workers in downtown San Francisco and elsewhere are far more concerned with their own little piece of the pie than the welfare of the soldiers who are going off to die for a lie? How is it that the average American knows more about professional sports, what’s playing at the movies or on television, what celebrity is in rehab, how much a new SUV costs, what the neighbor lady or man is really doing on those nights when they are supposed to be working late, and who has been listed as filing for bankruptcy in the local newspaper than they know about how much money their government is borrowing from foreign countries to pay for bogus pre-emptive wars that are going to eventually have to be paid back by our children? Why is the great chasm separating the rich and everybody else in this country and the world growing larger every year? Why does a country that produces more than enough food to feed itself and most of the world and has so many obese people allow so many members of its population to go hungry? Why does hard science have to repeatedly fight to keep from sinking into a veritable ocean of debunked superstitions? Those are a few of the questions I have, and if you guys can give me some help before we go our separate ways, I would appreciate it.”
Allison wondered who would respond to her request for help. Ernest and Bobby wasted no time turning their stares towards Sam. Sam would, as usual, be the man to take up the challenge for them.
Taking a deep breath, Sam began, “I’m not sure I can remember everything you said, Allison, and I’m not intending to make light of your concerns. I will tell you that, in my opinion, most of your questions dissolve into a single reality. The reality is, best I can tell, that every concern you alluded to is but a symptom of a potentially terminal illness caused by our society having become accustomed to excess in our lives. Over the last fifty years, the citizens of this country have grown accustomed to more of everything. Our standard of living is the highest in the world. We consume thirty percent of the world’s resources and produce twenty-five percent of the world’s pollution while we represent less than three percent of the world’s population. Although we constantly bitch about it, our taxes are but a fraction of what other developed countries collect from their citizens. We provide for our way of life by borrowing money from our children and foreigners every day. We spend more money on military preparations than most of the other countries in the world together. The values that brought this nation into existence are for the greater part a memory. We are quickly becoming an obese, self-centered, ungrateful, well-armed nation addicted to copious amounts of cheap fossil fuels while we are becoming increasingly prone to listening to demagogues telling us that the world is our oyster or that others are to blame for everything going wrong. We are in the process of becoming a nation without any purpose other than entertaining ourselves, consuming as much of the world’s resources as fast as we can and showing those upstarts who might get in our way where they belong in the pecking order. The rest of the world is beginning to grow weary of our excessive lifestyle and our holier than thou act.”
Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I believe we need to change our entire way of life if we expect to survive as a nation. We must learn to become a participant in the world community and expect only our fair share. Otherwise, the world will gradually pass us by, leaving us isolated and alone and without our former manufacturing facilities and our superior technological base that the large corporations have moved off shore to achieve greater profits for their dwindling numbers of individual shareholders. Our politics must move back towards the center, away from extremist viewpoints. Contrary to what one of our former presidents said, “Extremism is a vice.”
“We will have to do this from the bottom up. The solution does not start at the top with our so-called leaders; it starts at the grass roots level with individuals. One person at a time is how we will have to do it. We need to become role models and let our deeds speak for us. It will be a tedious process, and we don’t have an excess of time. I plan to change the way I live from this day forward, and I hope that I can become an example to others and stand ready to help others make the transition when they are ready. Finally, Allison is right when she says we cannot be drawn into their desperate acts of violence; if we do, we will lose. That may very well be the most difficult part of the transition. I, for one, am ready to start.”
Allison’s smile told them she had heard what she needed to hear. She, too, was ready to make dramatic changes when she got home.
Bobby went next. “I get the gist of what needs to be done, and I’m in. I feel good that I’ll have you guys as role models. Apart from the organic farming idea Sam and I are going to pursue, I plan to devote time to putting out the word on supporting our troops in other ways than watching them die for the wrong causes. I want people to know we don’t have to stand by quietly, too afraid to say anything about our troops being used for purposes other than the defense of our country. We have our work cut out for us.”
As soon as Bobby indicated he was finished, Ernest jumped in. “Like Bobby said, I’m in. One thing that I am going to do is to reconnect to those individuals who have been lured to the dark side or to the extremist view points. I believe they are reachable, and I am going to seek them out. I won’t be surprised if many of the people who supported the present administration did so out of feeling left out. We need to make sure everyone who shares our basic values has an opportunity to be heard. We have to stop being intellectuals, hanging out in ivory towers expecting the average working man and woman to appreciate us for our smarts. People don’t like to be ignored. I believe at the end of the day, we represent more of the qualities they deem important than do the hucksters who lured them away with empty rhetoric and promises.”
They had their marching orders. Maybe The Dandelion Manifesto existed only in their collective minds, but they would go forward from today teaching others by their good works, not by handing out pamphlets and preachi
ng.
With the remaining time, they turned their conversations to other matters. They talked about the trip, how things had changed, and how unfortunately, some things had not. They spoke of their families and their communities, of happy days from the past, and brighter days to come. Each individual spoke openly, unafraid of inadvertently revealing too much. They were among real friends and safe, not that common an occurrence in today’s society.
When the hour of departure finally arrived, none were ready to say goodbye. Once again, each of their lives had benefited immeasurably by their coming together. Now the time had come for them to part once more to go their separate ways. A lifetime had separated them, but that would not be the case in the future. Each realized now how important the other members of the Dandelions were to their individual lives. They vowed to stay in touch regularly, and no one doubted they would. Within a few more years their lives would be coming around the far turn, heading for the homestretch. They looked forward to having their unique friendship to help one another make that journey.
Unlike the first time they parted, no crowds of travelers rushed past them to catch trains. Only the cool morning air rising off the bay down below and a residential neighborhood resting quietly, not yet willing to take part in another day, bid them farewell. Allison swore she would not cry this time, but she did. The guys sucked it up as best they could but their voices betrayed them as there are other ways to cry. Ernest embraced everyone heartily, including Sam who was only taking Allison and Bobby to the airport, before turning away abruptly and going inside to tell the professor he would be staying. Allison and Bobby watched as their friend walked away, sad that they were parting but sadder yet over the difficult task that awaited him.
The ride down the hill through Berkeley was a pleasant ride this time, unlike the nervousness they experienced during their escape from the city in ‘69. Back then, the accompanying attitude was one of anger, fear, and defeat. Not this time. This time, Allison experienced a sense of peace. She was not running for her life filled with anger and despair. Once more the community became a place offering young impressionable people alternative viewpoints and camaraderie, a place from which different lifestyles and philosophies could be observed and, ultimately, chosen from. The place she first came to in 1968.
“Don’t park when we get there. You can take us to the door and let us out. I don’t want to cry any more than I have to, and I’m sure you have some business with a certain pizza lady to get started. I don’t want us to keep you from that. If you mess that up by the way, you will have to answer to me.” Allison tried hard to maintain a firm voice, but her listeners could tell she was right on the verge of losing it.
“You got it, and I promise to keep you up-to-date regularly. I’ll start using that e-mail address you gave me as soon as I get set up. While we’re on that, talk to Bobby about getting one of those things set up, too, so we can keep in touch more easily.”
Their future plans and meeting dates had been established for the near future so there wasn’t any need to promise to call or write or visit. That was a given. When Sam drove his newly acquired rainbow bus up to the airport terminal curbside, attracting the attention of numerous gawking individuals, he hurriedly exited and came around to open both doors for his passengers. Allison could see that his stoic act would collapse shortly, so she intended to make fast work of their parting.
Standing beside the idling bus with Bobby and their bags, she embraced a stern-faced Sam in a long bear hug. Stepping away, determined to fight back most of her tears, she said to him, “You know how much I love you and that I will come and hunt you down. By the way, I love your really cool bus.” Then she turned, picked up her bags, and walked towards the terminal door. Only after she was well away did she turn to observe the end of Bobby and Sam’s manly handshake. The rigid set of Sam’s jaw told her they were letting him get away with about five seconds to spare before he caved in and did a whole lot of unmanly stuff. One last smile, then a step through the automatic doors, and she and Bobby stood alone once again, like they had so many years ago.
“Let’s get you checked in first. I’ve still got plenty of time,” said Allison with a voice that hinted at more emotion than she wanted to show.
Afterwards they sat together along one of the long concourses watching passengers coming and going in equal numbers. Allison couldn’t help but contrast this scene with the picture she had in her mind of a future society that didn’t find it necessary for people to live their lives at mach speed. She knew she wanted no part of this on a regular basis for herself or her family. A number of passengers sporting yellow ribbons on pieces of luggage and briefcases caught their attention. Allison wondered if they understood what message they were really conveying by their actions. Possibly, they did know that it was about the oil because one thing for sure, millions of airline passengers would not be able to globetrot so easily without the availability of cheap oil. Maybe being able to jet to Aruba for the weekend or popping down to Atlanta to see the kids or flying across country to transact business that defied the utilization of the most advanced system of communications ever imagined in order to get face to face with a client, justified our children going to war.
Allison forced herself to return to the moment at hand. Her most loyal friend in the world sat beside her bound for Dallas to get his life back. She needed to give him back a small portion of the support he had provided to her in her times of need.
“Are your nerves holding up okay? This has to be a very special day for you, Bobby.”
Bobby thought for a moment as usual before answering. “You know, I think I’m doing all right. I expect the excitement will build the closer I get, but that’s okay. It’s going to be a good excitement.”
Allison liked what she heard. It was hard to match up the image of the smiling confident man sitting beside her with the image of the drunk laying behind the barn. A sobering thought occurred to her then – the only reason she was alive and prepared to go home to a loving family was because this man saved her life twice. Simply saying farewell and shedding some tears seemed so inadequate. She needed to find some way to convey her deep sense of gratitude for a family that never would have existed but for his actions.
“Bobby, I want to -” she started.
“Now hold on there little sister before you even get started because what you think you need to say is not necessary. You don’t owe me anything. In fact, it’s the other way around. I owe you as far as I’m concerned.”
How did he do that? wondered Allison. “Bobby, have you lost your mind? You saved my life twice. How could I not owe you?” Allison’s confused look backed up her statement.
Bobby took in a deep breath and let it out. “Do you remember when we met?”
Allison remembered the meeting. It was on the day the crowd gathered to build the park. She, along with Bobby and hundreds of other volunteers, removed the old asphalt and debris from the site during that spring of ‘69.
“Sure, I do. We stood in that line side by side for hours. I was concerned for you. Your facial scars were still fresh and the sadness in your eyes tore my heart out.”
“Do you know why I ended up at the park that day?”
“I had imagined, like we all did, to have some fun cleaning up the park.”
Bobby hesitated before he responded. “I ended up there because of you. I had no interest in the park. It was merely some real estate I needed to cross on my way to get some dope – a lot of dope. When I got it, I was going to put it all into my body immediately so I could die. I was on my way to kill myself, Allison, not to haul rocks around a park. I had given up, and I wanted out. The pain of living with my thoughts was unbearable.”
Bobby hesitated. “I was halfway through the crowd getting more pissed off as I went. Then above the noise and clatter I heard a laugh, a girl’s laugh. The most beautiful laugh I ever heard in my life. The kind of laugh you expect to hear from a child, free and happy sounds that tell you the person laugh
ing doesn’t even know that meanness and evil exist. It stopped me right there, and I had to see this girl who laughed as if life had a purpose. I turned around, and there you stood. You, Allison! Then another amazing thing happened. You looked up and saw me looking at you, and you smiled. You motioned for me to come over and join in, and for some amazing reason, I did. I stood close to you, watching and listening as you laughed and enjoyed every minute of the day. You saved my life, Allison. Your laughter and your simple act of friendship saved my life. The reason I was there that night to help you was because you saved my life that day in the park. You can never owe me anything, Allison. You only received back what you gave.”
