The Questioner
Page 3
Trina said to herself, “My gosh, he’s a world-traveler. I missed that one a country mile.” Feeling like she was having a “duh?” moment, she asked, “Would you think it horrible of me if I looked up something on my Blackberry for just a moment? I need to check on a word.” She wondered why she hadn’t done this a week ago.
“Be my guest. I didn’t know that you had such a device with you.” Tom was impressed that she asked his indulgence. Not many teenagers would have done that.
Trina googled character and found considerable help like an individual’s pattern of behavior or personality, moral strength, self-discipline, a description of the traits or qualities of a person, and reputation. In the list of synonyms, she found nature, disposition, and temperament most helpful. “Earlier, you mentioned a poem that you had written. I would very much like to read it. Do you have it with you?”
Tom smiled at this unexpected turn of events and fished out two folded sheets of paper from his back pocket. She read them aloud:
“AN ODE TO MY WIFE
The enumeration of descriptors has familiarly been
Friend, companion, lover, mother of my children...
A bevy of nouns for which I see no need...
Used so oft as to be disappointingly hackneyed.
Those who hear me will be quick to understand
That the depth of my emotion is far more grand.
I gave you my being.
We started simply with financial assets so small
That any kind of nuptial agreement would have been pure falderol.
Our union was based on naught, but trust...
The possibility of failure not discussed.
I gave you my solemn word.
What was mine was yours; you need not ask.
Fulfillment of wedding vows was our honorable task.
We started down the road and lived within our means
And nourished our babies into their teens.
I gave you my counsel.
We taught them right from wrong
And how in a troubled world they could get along...
That their lives would be what they chose...
That indeed one reaps what one sows.
I gave you my strength.
As we negotiated the empty nest and identified new pursuits,
Traveling far and wide and chasing our roots,
We marveled at all that we had seen
And our love remained unerringly keen.
I gave you my devotion.
Now we’re retired and we can speak first hand of sickness and of health.
The years have taught us what truly constitutes this thing called wealth.
It’s been my observation, as I experienced ‘to have and to hold’,
That everything I’ve given has been returned a hundred-fold.
As the sun slowly sets on these, our golden years,
We wonder which of us shall shed the final tears.
It’s an ages-old question we have yet to face;
When and where will we share our last embrace?”
A tear welled up in her eyes as she finished the poem. “That is quite touching; it’s awesome”, she said. “I think your poem has told me more about you than all of my questioning. How long have you been working on such things?”
“What is the pin that you wear on your collar?”
“Oh, I was going through an old scrapbook of mine from my youth not so long ago and I found this Boy Scout pin that I had been awarded way back when I was a whippersnapper. My scouting career was nipped in the bud because a Life Saving merit badge was required to move into the higher ranks. To get that merit badge, one had to get the Swimming merit badge first, but because of severe ear infection problems when I was a kid, I was forbidden to get in the water. Well, that’s really neither here nor there, I guess. The point is that I now have a grandson who is an Eagle Scout. I wear this pin to honor him.”
“And do you obey all the Boy Scout Laws?” she asked in a jocular manner.
“Needless to say, they had a great impact on my adolescent development, but they are worthy of pursuit no matter what one’s age. My scouting experience and a book entitled I Dare You, that I read in my youth, both had a profound effect on me.”
“Well, I have certainly found you to be helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, thrifty, cheerful, and whatever. I’m sorry I don’t know them all. I should because my brother and my dad are involved. Well, I think that completes my in-depth follow-on interview. I hope you take this as admiration rather than an insult. You are far deeper than I had ever imagined. My instructor has most ably succeeded in demonstrating to me that things are not always as they appear. It will be fun to write up my report.” As they had finished their lunch some time ago, Trina suggested, “Let me walk you to your car.”
The skies had completely cleared, the streets were dry, and the sun was shining brightly. It was a perfect fall afternoon. “Here’s my car over here.”
“It’s gorgeous – it’s a limousine, isn’t it?”
“It’s a 1996 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham; it’s sixteen years old. As a gag line, I tell folks that I inherited it from my dad. Thank you so much for picking me as your guinea pig. It had an effect on me far more than you will ever know. May your college years be absolutely wonderful and tell your folks that I said they have an extraordinary daughter!”
Trina smiled from ear to ear as she gave him a warm hug, kissed his cheek, and said, “Vaya con Dios, Grampa Tom.”
The following Tuesday, they were all at McDonald’s once again. Tom assumed Trina had given her classmates a full report of the interview. As he sat down alone at his usual table and his usual dollar-menu double-burger, all six girls marched over and sat down around him. He winked at Trina and announced that he just loved Tuesdays. As the girls left to return to school that day, each one of them shook hands with him left-handed. Trina was the last to do so. She smiled at Tom and said that the strange handshake was the latest way kids at school showed their respect. As he watched them race through the parking lot to pile joyously into the Toyota, Tom reached into his shirt pocket for a Kleenex. He wept unashamedly.
FINIS