“Look, I need to be able to stand up for myself. If you wanted to do something to protect me, you could have thought of something else, something more suitable…you know?”
He reached over and gave his sister a hug. Amazingly, she hugged back.
The next day at school John felt as though he was shell shocked. His head still spinning, he made his way to his locker. Brian was on the other side of the hall just closing his. Their eyes met, and John made a bee line toward him. Brian made an attempt to bolt, but John grabbed his arm.
“Brian,” he said sharply. Then his tone softened to almost a whisper. “I know.”
CHAPTER 7
Wherein we meet Tragedy
It was raining the day they took Mrs. Murphy away. The kids in the neighborhood will always remember her lifeless arm dangling from the gurney, the EMS workers pumping on her chest, and the flashing red lights reflecting off the wet pavement. Down the long driveway to the ambulance they came, with Brian weeping behind them. They drove away, lights flashing—but no siren.
As per usual, the news made it around the school almost instantaneously. Groups of students gathered in clusters along the high cement wall next to the school to discuss the matter. They all knew what this meant: Brian would be left alone with his sisters. This was such a total and radical development that even the teachers were distracted from their duties. It was as if Brian’s fate was the fate of the school; alone, uncared for—and directionless. The question that was being asked was, “Has anybody seen Brian?” Nobody knew his whereabouts. They knew that he had gone to the hospital during the incident, but nobody had heard from him since. His sisters were at home with relatives and friends, their time being filled to delay the full effect of grief. Not a word was spoken as to their future.
Ironically, it was time for John’s weekly speech. The now subdued students filed quietly into the auditorium. Mr. Pollock assumed the stage and walked soberly and with uncharacteristic preciseness to the microphone.
“Students, many of you know of the passing of Brian Murphy’s mother today. We want to extend our condolences to Brian and his younger sisters on this very tragic day.” He then turned to John who was standing some distance from him, and in very low and somber voice, said: “And now, John, please come with your word for our day.”
John stepped up to the mic with stoic purpose. He brushed aside the hair in front of his eyes. He motioned as if to speak but quickly put his fingers to his mouth. There was a very long pause, and then…
“Students, I think today we have gotten a very large dose of reality. Yes, reality. Death sort of puts everything on hold, right? I mean, you’re going along, thinking of what you are going to do that day, or maybe even in the future…and then, wham!: Death.”
Every eye was following him as he slowly walked back and forth on the stage, pausing to make a comment in the microphone.
“Really, when you think about it, death is where we are headed. It’s, well…the final destination on the train, sort of speak. We are all headed there…so let’s get used to the idea.”
There was slight laughter and then silence.
“So, with that said, what is the meaning of it all? We might say it’s to be ‘happy’…maybe that’s it. But, look, Brian loved his mother. That made him happy…but in an instant, it was all taken away. Right? Like, everything we have can be taken away from us.”
There was low level buzzing in the audience. John stopped to listen for a moment.
“Maybe there is intelligent life out there!”
He cleared his throat and continued: “And this should motivate us. When we realize that our family, friends and just about everything we love can be removed…well…it makes you think.”
He stopped and stepped back from the mic. There was silence, and then he thought he heard some whimpering. Indeed, it sounded like at least a couple of the girls were starting to cry out there in the vast darkness of the auditorium. Wait. He heard the sound of male voices crying. Suddenly there was a symphony of voices, crying…louder, louder, louder.
He turned quickly toward Pollock and saw tears streaming down his face, also.
Now, John was not one to inflate his own importance, and he really felt that what he said was not very profound. But, somehow, it was having an overwhelming effect on the student body, and, apparently, the teachers, too.
John decided to stop at this point. He slowly walked off the stage toward Pollock who greeted him with a bear hug. The students filed out, clinging to each other, some crying uncontrollably.
CHAPTER 8
John is discovered
The flash of camera bulbs and the rush of reporters barking questions to the faculty as they rushed around the TV and radio trucks made for a surreal scene; it was not your typical day at school.
Mr. Pollock had put his attaché in front of his face and ran through the throng until he reached the inside of the building. He then made a quick retreat to his office.
“Doris,” he said, panting and pointing to his secretary, “Hold all calls and don’t even think of letting those reporters in here.” He raced over toward his desk and began furiously dialing his phone.
“Hello? Bill? Yeah…it’s Pollock. When is D’Angelo due to come in…what…what is his bus number? The trucks and reporters? Yes, yes…I know. They are asking all kinds of questions. I‘d like to get my hands on the person who recorded his last speech and sent it to WURD radio; it’s like the whole world has just gone mad!”
His observation seemed to be playing out by the school entrance. As the commotion grew louder Pollock slowly lifted up the curtain facing the bus circle. A giant huddle was forming around bus number ten. When John emerged an hysterical cheer went up. Bewildered, he stumbled and fell to one knee. He was promptly lifted to his feet by the crowd, and then hoisted aloft above their heads. They then began a boisterous march around the school.
A teary-eyed girl with bad acne pawed her way toward John.
“John! John! I heard the message! I heard the message!” she screamed.
Pollock watching from his office shook his head in disbelief; he did not recognize the girl, and he was sure she was from another school. No sooner did that thought pass his mind when his fears were confirmed.
“Mr. Pollock,” Doris said nervously, as she peered into his room, only her eyes and the top of her head being visible, “Superintendent Beck wants to talk to you. He says kids from the high school and even the grade schools are skipping class and making their way here!”
“Oh, no! No!”
“I’m standing here today in the midst of a phenomenon we have never seen before,” the reporter intoned, his brown hair being blown back by an unusually strong wind. “John D’Angelo, the junior high school student who has caused a sensation with his speeches of wisdom has just arrived to thunderous applause by his devotees. In some strange way, this little guy has touched a chord in the hearts of young people in this county…and perhaps the world. In fact…” He gazed off in the direction of the crowd. John was being escorted toward him by another man with a head phone set. Pollock was watching this event unfold. Intending to intercept the action before it took place; he turned to run out of his office but tripped on the waste paper basket. He fell to the floor with a thud. Unhurt, but now unable to prevent the inevitable interview, he threw up his hands in disgust.
“Yes…in fact, here is our little wonder now!” John was placed beside the reporter. He seemed fascinated by the camera crew, and his mind seemed to be somewhere else.
“John, I was wondering when you realized you had this gift. Please tell our audience, won’t you?”
John looked up in wonder. “Gift? No, it’s no gift. It is just…well, common sense…” His voice trailed off.
“So you are saying that your speeches are just words of common sense?”
“No!” a voice off camera yelled, “He’s a prophet….a prophet I tell you!”
“He’s got the answer…we want to hear more!” shouted a
freckled figure in a baseball cap.
The screeching of tires and smoke trailed its way up the hill to the school. A car suddenly appeared and made its way along the bus circle, rode up the curb onto the grass and bumped to a halt.
The family had finally arrived to check out the circus. Out popped dad wiping his brow nervously with a look of confusion on his face. When mom exited it appeared as if she were crying. Sister and brother got out looking just as bemused.
“Man,” brother began, “what in the world is going on here? Like, this is a bit much, isn’t it?”
“Um…yeah…like Hollywood, sort of…,” sister said with not a small bit of disgust.
“Where’s John? Where is he?” Dad was agitated, he seemed like a man possessed; and it was a puzzle, even considering the events that were taking place.
His eyes scanned the crowd until he saw John under the lights of the camera crew. He made a bullet line for him. “…and so, John, what words of advice would you give to those watching at home…”
“Hey, hey…the interview is over pal.” Dad pushed the cameraman out of the way, stepped in front of the reporter and grabbed John. “Let’s go!”
“D-D-Dad…what are you doing?”
“Shut up, I know what I’m doing.”
Mother came running over. “John, are you all right?”
“Um…I think so.”
The camera crew and reporter were watching in silence, then suddenly snapped back into action: “And so viewers, there goes our little hero with his family…a true American!” There was a moment’s pause until they broke for the commercial. The reporter kicked the dirt in anger. “Can you believe that idiot? Probably the biggest story I’ve done…and he pulls that nonsense!”
Back at the car dad was in a huff. “What do you think you are doing there, young man?”
“Dad, I had no idea what was going on.”
Mother stuck her head between the two. “Honey, aren’t you overreacting? This is a good thing; he’s a celebrity.”
“Celebrity? I will not have this family mocked on TV and radio. We’re ruined, ruined! When this gets out, I’ll be the laughing stock of the town, and my business will go down.”
Sister, smirked. “Dad, I wouldn’t worry, there will always be people in the market for a bad used car!”
“That’s enough out of you, smart alec!”
Dad started the car and began to drive through the crowd.
“Hey,” a student shouted, pointing to the car, “It’s him!”
The crowd surrounded the car. They began to chant, “John! John! John!” Dad honked the horn wildly; he rolled down the window. “Get away from my car…get off…now!”
He slammed the accelerator, and with a loud squeal the car lunged across the school court yard, bumping into the flag pole which seemed to bow down in the fury of the moment as the car sped away down the hill and out onto Maple Street.
CHAPTER 9
The Voice of Sanity Appears
The phone rang continuously, but nobody dare answer; Dad had put a moratorium on any telephone conversations. In a sense he had a right to, seeing how it was mostly reporters and admirers who were calling. But this day it seemed that mom had had enough. It was one thing to avoid annoying people, it was another to be cloistered and locked away from the rest of the world.
She was busy cleaning the house when over the din of the vacuum cleaner the phone began to ring again. She shut the vacuum off for a moment and stood biting her thumbnail. She did not want to disobey her husband, but she also did not want to be a prisoner. At first she began to walk tentatively toward the phone, and then she paused. Suddenly, filled with a sense of purpose, she strutted up to the phone and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hi!”
“Who…who’s this?”
“Who’s your favorite brother in law?”
“Tony?” Her voice was filled with surprise and relief. “Oh, Tony! It is so good to hear your voice.”
“Listen. Looks like John is a star, huh? That’s some kid!
“Yes…I just wish your brother felt the same way.”
“Well, maybe he will. Look, I’m having a little get-together. You know, it’s summer and the family hasn’t seen each other for a while. What do you say?”
“Well, I really don’t know…your brother…”
“Ahhh…don’t worry, I’ll handle him. Just pack the car up and come out. I’m only a half hour away…come on!”
“Is my hot dog ready? It’s been on the grill for a while.”
“Your hotdog? Looks like to me like you can eat a hothorse!”
“Joanie, your great humor is only exceeded by the size of your hairdo.”
The grills were arranged in a semi-circle. That was the protocol: everybody brought their own grill. Uncle Tony provided the food. The entertainment was provided by the company.
Aunt Joan placed a hamburger on the grill and took a long sip on her ice tea. “So, ah…what is next up with little John? A movie or somethin’?”
Uncle Bill had just forced half a bag of chips into his mouth. Some did not make it and tumbled down his shirt leaving trails of grease. “Don’t know. But I’ll tell ya something, this kid is something special. He really is!
Joan let out a mild laugh. “Special, huh? Like how? I just don’t see it. After all my Tim is just as smart, right? He’s a high school graduate!”
“Yeah, right!”
Just then the green Plymouth came up the driveway and parked behind the other cars.
Bill belched and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, said: “Well, should we roll out the red carpet?”
Joan flipped her now half cooked burger over. “I think I need a highball. Where’s the liquor around here?”
“Now, now. You know Tony doesn’t drink. He’s a health nut.”
“Oh, hi Joan!” mom said as she placed a basket of paper dishes on the redwood table.
Joan leaned over toward Bill and cupped her hand to her mouth. “Here’s Miss Wonderful, act like you are actually happy to see her.” Then standing straight she changed her mode. “Oh, hi. We’re…uh...we’re just so happy to see you.”
Yes, thanks. Can…can...can you...” She moved closer to Joan. “Can you, you know, make John feel at home? Um… please show some affection.”
As if on cue, John presented himself to the gathering. He looked sheepish and odd in his Bermuda shorts, sneakers and baseball cap. “Hi, everyone,” he said softly.
Aunt Joan came over and gave him an overdone hug. “How’s my big boy!”
Uncle Bill rolled his eyes.
“Fine, I guess.”
Joan came along side and put her arm around him. “Hey, Johnny Boy, any good lookin’ girls over at the junior high?”
“John, um…well, you’ve had an interesting summer,” Bill said in an attempt to rescue John and preserve his dignity.
“It hasn’t been easy.”
“Yeah,” moaned dad as he finally made his way up the driveway, “It hasn’t been easy…and I’m ruined.”
Bill waved his arms, “Nah, stop your complainin’ will you...this is great!”
“Really? Having reporters and strange people at your door at odd hours of the day and night? Give me a break!”
“Brother, come sit, relax.” Like a trained German shepherd, dad sat on a big wicker chair that Uncle Tony was placing under him. “Now, it seems to me you’ve got a genuine prophet on your hands.”
“No, I don’t. I have a problem. A big problem!”
“We should all have these problems, brother.”
“I guess. It’s just that it is so strange…I mean Johnny is so strange. Why can’t he be like other kids. Ya know…baseball, football, fishing…”
Tony leaned back for a moment reflectively. “He’s looking for his own voice.”
“Voice?”
“Yeah, sure. Why does he have to be the same as others? What if what he is sayin’ has a big impact on others?”
; “It is having an impact, and I’m not so sure it is for the best.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, he’s making them think too much…that could be dangerous.”
Tony laughed slightly and looked away for a moment, but then, turning quite serious, said: “There is no quota on thinking. That is how civilizations are built. That is how society advances. Ya know?”
“Uh…yeah, right…I guess.”
Just then little John came into view carrying a hamburger in one hand and his uncle’s cat in the other.
“Johnny Boy,” Tony yelled, “Over here!”
Johnny’s face lit up; he was being beckoned by his favorite person. He put down the cat who scurried away, happy to be free, and took a big bite of the hamburger. “Hi, uncle!”
“Young man, never talk with a full mouth,” Tony said with mock anger, and then bursting into a smile received Johnny with a big hug. “Kid, your dad and I have been talking. We have come to the conclusion that you’re going to change the world…big time!”
Dad looked confused, “We have? Yeah…I guess.”
Tony continued: “Yeah…like we feel you really have something to contribute. Keep at it; there will be rewards.”
“Rewards, uncle?”
“Yes. Like making things better.”
Dad shook his head. “Hey, Tony…you’re gettin’ preachy now. He’s just a kid…”
“Yes, a very special kid.”
“I don’t see it. I just don’t.” It was Joan in her best form. She had wondered over when she saw Tony talking to little John. “I mean, so the kid can talk in front of people, I’ll grant you that, but that’s nothin’ at all.”
“It’s nothing to you,” Tony rejoined, “but it may be something to people who can think.”
“Hey, are you sayin’ I’m stupid?”
“Not at all. Just that you are not worried by the things that many people are, that’s all.”
The participants of this conversation carefully eyed each other. It was a clash of perceptions to be sure, but it was a very defining moment also. Dad listened, finally intrigued by what Johnny might have to offer. Even Joan seemed pacified by what she was hearing. It was a carnival of ideas. It was the beginning of the end, seemingly, of skepticism on the part of two key family members. And, most importantly, it was Uncle Tony’s influence that held sway.
Unnecessary Noises Page 6
