Summer vacation was ending. Our trip to the beach was uneventful. The new school required me to read a few books before the new school year started. Against my objections, Mom forced me to leave my presidents book at home while we were in Atlantic City and only read the required books.
Once back home from vacation, I only had one week before school would begin. Mom took me to Orientation Day. We picked up a packet with my locker number and schedule with a map of where my classes were located. This would be the first time I had to change classrooms during the day other than for gym class. The new school had long hallways. The cafeteria seemed bigger than our entire house. Mom said it wasn’t. It sure looked big.
I met all my teachers. Some were young looking while my science teacher looked like some of the presidents. The science teacher had white hair and a jacket that looked as old as the men did the day they signed the Declaration of Independence.
When I told Mom I thought my science teacher needed some new clothes, she said, “There is never enough money in the budget to pay teachers but the football team gets new uniforms almost every year.”
Mom was starting to talk in riddles like Thomas Jefferson. We walked around the school. I saw many fresh faces. I only recognized a handful of people from my old school. Bruce and Wendy had gone to an Orientation Day, earlier in the summer. I was excited to meet new friends but was scared. Mom kept insisting that after a few days, it would all work out. Moms are hardly ever wrong.
The last stop on our school visit was in the gym where they had tables set up talking about different careers. I knew a little about careers because of the computer man who came to our school last year and my talk with Chief Justice Taft. While walking around the tables, each had information from nursing, to being an electrician to being something called an accountant. My brain hurt. I could tell many of the other people my age had fried brains too. They were all walking with slumped shoulders and their heads looking at the gym floor. I could relate. I wanted to take my new gym clothes, locker number and combination lock for it, all my books and the list of school supplies and go home.
We were almost the last to leave because Mom wanted to talk with the principal about working as a substitute teacher. I was hoping she would stay working at my old school. I didn’t need her knowing all my new teachers, like she knew the old ones. Moms just don’t understand their kids sometimes.
After wasting four hours on one of the last days of summer, we were finally on our way home. During the car ride home, Mom asked if I thought about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I didn’t understand why everyone kept asking me that question.
“I don’t know, Mom. Richard told me not to be a writer, but I do like talking about sports. I thought I could write about sports in the paper. You know, the one Dad reads every morning. I think it would be funny if he yelled at what I had written in the paper.”
She kept looking straight ahead at the traffic. “Have you given any thought about being a plumber like your father or a teacher like your mother?”
“Nah. Dad always tells me how much his back hurts. You know how dirty he is when he comes home most days. Plus, he’s in a bad mood a lot after work. I don’t think I would wanna be a teacher. They have too many kids in schools.”
Mom laughed. “Well I can’t argue with you on those points. I admit your father has a rough job, but he is a very good man. He might sound grumpy when he gets home but it doesn’t last long. You know that. Besides, I’m sure he would love to teach you all about what he does while at work.”
“I dunno, Mom. I thought you told me one day I would be a great leader. How am I supposed to be a leader from under Mrs. Johnson’s bathroom sink?”
Mom laughed again. “Oh, sweetie, there are so many ways to be a leader. You can lead by example to your children, the way your father does with you. You can be a leader in your church or community. There are so many ways. I didn’t mean you would be the leader of the world one day. Leading your family would be a great start.”
“Well it might be good to be the boss of my own family one day. Wendy Newman keeps telling me she’s going to be the boss of everyone. I’ll let her do be the world’s boss. I don’t think the world needs two.”
We pulled into our driveway. Mom stopped the car. She looked at me. “Who is Richard? You said Richard warned you not be a writer. Who is that?”
“Richard Nixon. He told me all about two writers who kept writing stories about him until he couldn’t be president anymore. Gerald Ford told me that he did something so Richard could move to California and no one could yell at Richard any more. What’s weird is, Richard told me not to be a writer but Richard told me he moved back home and started to write books. That’s pretty bogus. He told me not to be a writer but he got to be a writer.”
Mom stared at me and slammed the keys into her purse. “Alex, I have told you before about this notion that you speak with past presidents. It isn’t possible. I am sure while you’re reading; you’re using your imagination, and thinking about what these men would tell you if they could speak with you. But you’re not really seeing or speaking with these men.”
I didn’t want to argue with Mom. I still had a few hours left in the day to ride my bike or hang out in the park. I didn’t want to be told to go to my room. “Ok, Mom. Whatever you say.”
Her voice got louder. “No, young man, it’s not what I say. You have to believe what I am telling you is true. You can’t possibly be speaking with them.”
“You and Dad tell me never to lie. If I lie, I’m punished. If I tell you the truth, I’ll be punished. What am I supposed to do, Mom?”
“Go to your room, Alex. This nonsense is going to end.”
I stomped up to my room. There were only five days left of summer vacation. My day was ruined because of having to go to school and tell Mom the truth about Richard Nixon. Being a curious kid who told the truth was hard.
I could hear Mom slam the door to the house as I entered my bedroom. She yelled up at me, “Your father will deal with you later, young man.”
The clock read fifteen minutes past two. Dad wouldn’t be home for over three hours. The book was sitting on the nightstand. I wanted to destroy it. As much as I had learned about the history of our country in speaking with the past presidents, if having Mom and Dad think I was a liar, wasn’t worth the price of keeping it.
When the presidents started to appear a year before, at first, I was shocked and scared. Even though Grandpa told me, the book had magic. Eventually, it became fun having them show up. Sometimes, I didn’t even have my book with me. The presidents I met would show up for a few minutes and help me with my problem, only to disappear. I enjoyed their help. They were all smart men. Tommy Wilson tried to charge me more helping me with the harder problems. I told him forget it and I would ask President Jefferson.
Mom made me stay upstairs until dinner. Dad never came up. I assumed he got home too late to come and talk with me before dinner. I didn’t hear his truck pull in the driveway until moments before being called down for dinner. It was after I heard Grandma and Grandpa arrive. I washed up and went downstairs.
Everyone looked at me as I sat down at the table. I thought I had smelled meatloaf all the way to my room. I was right. We said grace and dug in. Five minutes after taking a bite, Mom started to tell everyone about our day. She told them all about the new school. She stated there was a chance she would be working there too. I guess I groaned too loud when she talked about being a substitute. Mom shot me a dirty look.
“Steven, I was hoping you would be home early. Alex told me that Richard Nixon recommended Alex not become a reporter, or write books, or something, all because of Watergate. Oh, what does it matter, the point is Alex continues with his delusion that he is speaking with ex-presidents. It has to stop, or I am going to take him to see a specialist.”
“What do you mean a specialist?” Grandpa said.
“You know exactly what I mean, Frank. Lord knows you’ve seen your share over the years.” Mom said
.
“Not in front of Alex,” Dad said.
The table went quiet. I was wondering what Mom meant but didn’t want to draw attention back to my side of the table. After a nibble of peas, Grandpa spoke.
“I told you the night you asked me how I obtained the book, that it has magical powers to anyone who owns it. Alex is telling you the truth, Maureen. There is no need to drag him off to see the looney bin doctor. I turned out to be a well-adjusted man. So will Alex.”
“Yeah well, Frank, no son of mine is going to go around telling the world that George Washington explained to him how to build a boat and cross the Delaware.”
I started to cry. “You all have to believe me. I don’t know why they appear, they just do. Most of the times it’s while I’m reading, but not always. Please don’t make me see a looney specialist.”
Mom looked at Dad. Dad looked at Grandpa. Grandpa looked at Grandma. They all looked back at Mom. I slumped another inch into my chair.
“Maureen, maybe you don’t remember how Frank and I met,” Grandma said. “I know you think this is highly irregular but it’s not. New studies have shown that sixty-five percent of all children have imaginary friends. Many times, these friends are role models. I’ve read all about Dr. Spock trying to put a negative spin on imaginary friends, thinking the child has a void. Recent studies indicate this is no longer the educated conclusion. In my opinion, Alex doesn’t need to see anyone. Let it go.”
Mom left the table but came back with apple pie, vanilla ice cream and an upside down smile. Finally, some dessert! After a slice of pie and two scoops of ice cream, I helped clean the table and returned to my room.
The radio was blasting louder than normal. I didn’t hear anyone coming up the steps. It was Grandpa. He came into my room and sat on the corner of the bed. Grandpa never came to my room. Even when he and Grandma would come over when Mom and Dad went out, Grandma was always the person who made sure I was ready for bed.
“When I was a boy your age, Alex, I heard voices,” Grandpa said. “My mother and father thought there was something wrong with me. It got so bad that my mother took me to see a doctor. We talked about school, family, even sports. I continued talking with the doc until after I graduated high school. That’s where I met your Grandma Marie. She was the prettiest little thing I had ever seen. She was studying at night to be one the type of doctor she worked for during the day. A doctor for troubled minds, I was told.”
Grandpa rubbed his hand on my foot and continued.
“There wasn’t a darn thing wrong with me then and there’s nothing wrong with you now. Your father told me, he told you, I bought your book in a gift shop. I didn’t. The writings in your book are the actual thoughts from the former presidents. My company did some renovations at the Oval Office. That’s the President’s office inside the White House. I was doing a last minute look around the office when I noticed the book sitting on the edge of the President Reagan’s desk. A voice told me that the book belonged to you.”
“Grandpa, you stole my book?”
Grandpa sat straight up and shook his head. “Alex, I had not heard voices for years. This one was different. It sounded so real. The voice said his name was Samuel Wilson. Sam informed me he was upset the representatives of this country were no longer listening to the people. He arranged for the book to be sitting on the desk. I was to give it to you. He didn’t say any more.”
“But Grandpa, it still sounds like you stole the book. It was a voice. No one really told you it was ok for you to take the book.”
“Not true. At first, I thought it was only voices returning in my head. I was going to leave the book alone. As I was leaving, a secret service agent, who was at the door watching my every move, asked me why I didn’t take the book. He said he heard the voice too. He said there were some crazy things that happen in the Oval Office and I should take the book. The agent told me that he see the ghosts of the Presidents all the time. He informed me that the Presidents all talk with each other in the Oval Office. He also told me that if I ever repeated what he said, he would deny it. I took the book. It was locked in a safety deposit box at the bank for years. I was afraid someone would come looking for it. No one has. Samuel Wilson came to me a few days before your tenth birthday and told me it was time you read the book.”
“I know Sam Wilson too, Grandpa. He followed me up the steps one day and showed up in the bathroom mirror. I’m trying really hard not to be scared because you told me to be strong. Sometimes it’s hard.”
Grandpa sighed. “I wish I could explain it better, Alex. All I know is you’re a normal kid. If you say the presidents are visiting you, I believe you. However, I think maybe in the future, keep it to yourself when they visit. That’s what I ended up doing. My senior year in high school, I was tired of seeing the Doc. I told him for months the voices stopped. Eventually, I stopped visiting him.”
“Whatever you say, Grandpa. But, if Tommy Wilson comes back, I want you to come in here and yell at him. He sits in the corner chair trying to steal my piggy bank.”
Grandpa laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Alex. The men might appear to be real to you, but they are figments in your mind. They won’t hurt you. I read much of your book. Sometimes people, including your mother wants to argue with me about politics. Little do people know that I read the personal writings from the men who created history. The presidents never spoke to me other than reading their words, but the book wasn’t intended for me.”
“Those men seem real to me, Grandpa. Sometimes I can read page after page and no one appears. Other times, it’s like they are in my room all the time. They even follow me around outside.”
Grandpa kissed my forehead. “That book has magical powers. You are learning history from all of our great leaders. Some books speak to me too, Alex. I have come to learn over many years that the voices in my head are sometimes my conscience telling me right from wrong. Other times they become very real, like Sam Wilson. You keep reading and one day it will all make sense to you.”
“I will Grandpa. Oh, thank Grandma for helping me out with Mom. I didn’t know she was a doctor?”
He smiled. “She’s not. Your father was born and your grandma quit school to care for him. I started working in the construction business. After your father became old enough to start school, your grandma went back to work in a doctor’s office. She thought about going back to college but back then, it was much harder for women to have careers and a family.”
Grandpa tapped my foot again and left the room.
I cracked open my Presidents book towards the front. I found information about the sixth President, John Quincy Adams. He had a famous father. His father was John Adams, the second President of the United States. For the first time in our young nation’s history, it had a father and son each become President.
John Quincy wrote about how people compared him with his father. They shared many of the same ideas about how to be a good president. When John Quincy was young, he watched one of the early battles of the American Revolution, the Battle at Bunker Hill from the top of a nearby hill called Penn’s Hill. He later graduated from Harvard and became a lawyer. Like many of the presidents, he lived overseas as a minister to different countries. His last mission had been in Russia. He was also a United States Senator.
It was almost time for a bath and bed. I still had to finish the last of my summer reading books. I put down my book and read more of the boring required reading book before jumping into the bath.
The next morning I promised Mrs. Macy I would bring some old boxes down from her attic and put them in the garage. She said it was easier for her to see what was inside the boxes if I arranged them on a table in the garage. It was hard work carrying that stuff down her steps and out her back door. After a few trips, I took a break. Someone appeared.
“Greetings, Alex, my name is John Quincy Adams. I understand you were reading my notes last night. Was there anything you didn’t understand while reading them?”
Many thoughts were racing through my mind. For instance, how he negotiated to get Florida from Spain? How he helped create the Monroe Doctrine or even how he got England to share the Oregon territory. What I wanted to know the most was how he became president. I asked him.
He scratched under his chin before responding. “It was an interesting time. Five men were originally vying to be the leader of our great land. Our country was politically divided into sections. I had favor in the northeast. My main opponent, General Andrew Jackson, curried favor in the south. Mr. Calhoun dropped out early and Mr. Crawford became ill. That damaged his chances for election. Mr. Henry Clay was in the race as well.”
Mrs. Macy yelled out to see if I was doing ok. I told her I would be back in soon. Adams continued.
“Election Day came and went. Mr. Jackson won the most popular and electoral votes overall. The votes were close and split amongst the candidates. Jackson did not carry enough electoral votes to win the election. Under the terms of our Twelfth Amendment, the House of Representatives was given the task of deciding the next president from the top three candidates. The top three were the General, myself and Mr. Crawford. Mr. Clay was no longer eligible. However, because Henry Clay was the Speaker of the House at the time, he managed to sway the election in my favor. General Jackson, was to say in the least, not pleased, and was a thorn in my side my entire term in office.”
“I would be ticked off too, if I had the most votes and lost because you guys cheated.”
Adams laughed. “We didn’t cheat, Alex. We did everything according to law.”
“Maybe so, Mr. Adams, but I read you picked Henry Clay to be your Secretary of State? I mean, I’m only a kid, but I think maybe he helped you, and then he got a better job.”
Adams laughed louder this time. “Yes, so it would seem to a child, some adults as well. I tried to quell the rumblings by announcing a large program for the Federal Government to build roads and bridges to help reunite the sections of the country that felt General Jackson should have been elected.”
“I dunno, Mr. Adams. I’m not sure a road was going to make up for not being president.”
“I imagine not. It was the best I had to offer. I also attempted to have the Federal Government take the lead in developing the arts and sciences. Congress didn’t agree. Jackson charged corruption at every turn. He defeated me in the next election. I assumed I would retire to Massachusetts, but this old politician still had fight in him. I returned to Washington as a member of the House of Representatives, until I took ill offering a speech.”
I still had more boxes to move for Mrs. Macy so I asked John one last question. “Grandpa Frank doesn’t agree with all you presidents but he does think you were all born leaders. What do you think a leader is? My friend Wendy says it’s making everyone do stuff they don’t want to do, like wear pink. What do you think?”
Mr. Adams took a moment then said, “If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader. You can tell your friend Wendy, John Quincy said it has nothing to do with making people wear pink.”
I waved goodbye to John as he walked away. He turned back.
“Alex, one last thing. If you ever do come into a position of leadership, always vote for principle, though you may vote alone, you may cherish the sweetest reflection that your vote is never lost. Be well my friend.”
~~~*~~~
Chapter Eleven
Presidential Shadows Page 10
