There was confusion above them as both the police and fire officials huddled to try to decide the best way to handle the emergency that just got a lot more complicated.
“You go now,” the man insisted. But John just stared harder into his eyes.
“What’s eating you, man? What could be so bad that you would want to do this?”
“Everything. Everything! Nothing in my life has ever gone right. I’m a nobody. A nobody!”
“Well,” John said, trying to suppress a smile, “now you’re not! But, no matter, there are people who are going to be impacted if you do this. You will ruin their lives. Don’t you see it?”
“Yeah…I’ve heard that before. Every day, it turns out to be something else, something bad. I just don’t want it anymore!”
John positioned himself a little closer. “Ok...but you never know what may be coming the next day. I mean, things could get a lot better. In fact something great could happen!”
From the corner of his eye John could see a policeman being lowered down in a harness. This was risky business; there was no telling what the man would do if he saw it—and John was not a professional negotiator.
John riveted his eyes on the man, not wanting him to be too curious about what was going on around him. There was a shout from above. Both men looked up to see the policeman dangling precariously. His harness had not been secured properly, and now he was hanging half out just above them. Instinctively, John yelled, “Help me out!” to the man who responded right on cue and grabbed the desperate policeman’s arm. John pulled him down to the ledge, and he was safe—a bit scraped up and out of breath—but safe.
The three men looked at each other. John was smiling broadly, and both he and the man laughed heartily. The assembly above was dumbfounded; what in the world was going on? The rescued policemen looked the most astonished.
The crowd that had gathered to watch the drama applauded and whistled. John’s co-workers were giving him the victory sign. Joe was shaking his head in disbelief—or was it belief?
“Hey,” said a voice in the crowd, “that guy up there looks like…like that kid from a few years back. The one that was on TV…you know, The Prophet…or whatever he was.”
“Yeah, the one who gave those speeches….that’s him!” said another.
There was the screech of tires and a TV news truck came to a stop in front of one of the fire trucks. Apparently they got the word a little late on this caper. Out stumbled the newswoman trying to untangle herself from her mic wire. She spoke briefly with the people in charge and then made her way to the bridge just in time to see our hero being hoisted over the rail. Someone in the crowd was yelling, “You should have seen this guy, he saved two people! Two people!”
The inevitable interview with John followed.
The next day his face was all over the newspapers.
Celebrity had found him once more.
CHAPTER 20
Graduation
John stood in front of the mirror in an apparent wrestling match with his tie. It was new and in no mood to be fiddled with, but John persisted and it finally surrendered to his wishes. He spent a few seconds brushing down his hair, and then rushed to try on the mortarboard; the ultimate symbol of accomplishment, the thing that palpably says to the world, “I did it!”
But there was a sense of sadness in it all. So many things had transpired over the years, and there seemed now to be no time to reflect on it. There was only time to move on; to keep the demon of intransigence at bay by moving on to the next thing in life. It was not an easy assignment. Being a humanities major did not mean a whole lot to the world at large. You really had nothing to show for the years you had put in, except a piece of paper and perhaps the notion that you had done something that many people have not.
The family forced itself into the station wagon and the journey began. After a brief conversation about how really happy they were for John, silence reigned. There was just the rumble of the road and the sound of other cars passing the aging vehicle. John tried to act excited, but it was no use; a pall had fallen over the group and the thoughts of what the future may hold were not helpful to the general demeanor of the family.
“I really would like a nice picture of you with all of us, John,” mom said quickly, almost seeming like she did not want to be heard. John said nothing.
Dad looked in the rear view mirror at the sullen collection. “You guys make me laugh. You’ve got lots to say about things that don’t matter. Now that John is graduating, it’s like the sleep of the dead. Nothing.”
“So,” brother said, tentively, “have you applied to any graduate schools? You never talked much about that.”
John looked out the window seemingly trying to grapple with the question. “Nope. Can’t think that far ahead. I spent enough time in school. I think I’d just rather work.”
“Hey, maybe you can make a living from your former fame. You know, the way actors do when they’re known for just one famous role they played. You know, like the Lone Ranger, or…or Zoro!” He smiled a broad mocking smile. John did not react; he just kept looking out the window. His mind was being blown around by a whirlwind of thoughts; past, present and future, now all trying to come together. It was an attempt at self-defense—of protecting himself from things he could not control. But his old friend reality would come knocking at the door, and he would have to let him in.
The actual graduation was a straight forward affair, with all the right speeches, all the right encouragement—and all the right people attending. John wanted the day to pass as quickly as possible. But there was the obligatory party waiting for him back at the house, and all the usual suspects would be there.
“Hey, are you going to help me or not?” Aunt Joan was in full military mode, giving assignments out to the unwilling recruits, and she had Uncle Bill in her sights.
“I am helping. I’m watching you to see if you do anything wrong, and I’m pre-tasting the food to see if it’s good enough for our Johnny.” He took a plastic fork from the cup dispenser and helped himself to a large mouthful from the decorative dish on the main table. “Hmm…pretty good. Is this low calorie?”
Joan examined him. “Man, you are really somethin’!”
The station wagon pulled into the driveway. There was barely enough room for it and half the car was exposed to the busy street. Apparently, those invited did not think of where the guest of honor’s car would park, and took the best positions on the old driveway for themselves. Dad shook his head. Mom shrugged. They piled out of the car in slow motion. John was prepared to get this all over with as soon as possible—and with as little pain as possible.
“Johnny! Johnny! Johnny!” trumpeted Uncle Bill, his arms outstretched in royal greeting.
“Hi, uncle!” John was doing his best to get into the role of the graduate.
“We are just so proud of you! Aren’t we Joan?”
Joan seemed distracted by the spaghetti sauce she was heating on the electric warmer. “Yeah, real proud. Real proud.”
“Hey buddy,” Bill continued, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve got something for you.” With that, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to John who looked thoroughly embarrassed. He hesitated, holding the envelope at arm’s length.
“Go ahead! Go ahead and open it!” Bill prodded.
John slowly opened the envelope and examined its contents, and then read aloud: “‘The holder of this gift certificate is entitled to a free meal and ice cream sundae at Ridley’s’” John flashed a plastic smile. “Gee, thanks uncle.”
“Hey, nothing’s too good for my Johnny. Of course, you’ll cut me in on the meal, right?”
“Um…yeah. Of course.”
“May I have your attention?” It was dad, trying to garner the attention of the collected relatives. This was going to be the “speech”; how wonderful his son was, how proud they were of him—and how the future was filled with “bright promise.”
“Um…the food is ready. And…
I think you know how we all feel about our boy, Johnny. Let’s eat.”
That was it. No waxing eloquent about the wonder boy and his accomplishments, or his temporary fame; no mention of the family’s losses and alleged triumphs. Just a call to indulge.
John stood a bit wounded by the edge of the patio. He placed his hands in his pockets and seemed to be drifting into another world. “Budda boom ba da bing,” he said softly.
“Haven’t heard anything like that in years.” It was mother, who had come up behind him. She had instantly assessed the situation and was swooping in to bind up John’s wound before it became emotionally fatal.
“Mom, I’ll just never figure this family out.”
Twenty minutes later Joan was making her way rather quickly toward the two. Her face was unusually distorted in worry. “I think you had better come with me. It’s your husband. He says he doesn’t feel well. He looks awfully sick.”
CHAPTER 21
At the Hospital
The nurses’ station was a fire of activity: checking charts, answering the phones and talking to doctors in a strange coded language. John and mom sat on the beige chairs outside the emergency room. Brother was pacing up and down the hall. He stopped for a moment to check out the vending machine. He fumbled for change, deposited his coins and pulled the lever. Nothing came out. Enraged, he began to violently shake the machine.
“Stop that, James!” mother yelled, perhaps a bit too loud. “Oh! I hope your father is going to be ok. I’m scared.” John leaned on her shoulder and held her arm.
“It’ll be alright, mom. God is in control.”
She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. “Yes, John, you’re right.”
Presently, a middle aged doctor walked over toward them. Instinctively, mother and John stood up.
“How is my husband, doctor?”
“Well, Mrs. D’Angelo, your husband seems to have a serious problem with his liver. We ran some tests and I wish I could say that they turned out the way we had hoped. But the news was a bit disappointing. We will have to keep him here for a couple of days to determine exactly what treatment he will need.”
“Is…is…he going to be alright?”
“We’ll do everything we can. Tell me, was he ever a heavy drinker?”
Mother bit her lip.
“Yes,” John said quickly. “He had….well…has a problem.”
“I see. Well, that tells us something. It sort of narrows things down a bit.” He smiled sincerely and then looked at his watch. “I have to see another patient, but I will call you with any new developments.”
He began to walk away, but mother shadowed him. “Doctor, can I see him?”
“We have him sedated. But you can look in if you like.”
They quickly made their way toward his room, at first getting lost in the maze of corridors, but finally arriving at his door. The room was dim and there was the steady beeping of the monitors. Mother stood over him. He seemed to be in a deep sleep.
“He looks so peaceful,” she said. “He looks like he is somewhere where there is no stress.”
James approached the bed. He seemed extremely upset. Tears were welling up in his eyes. “Mom, I don’t want it to end like this.”
“I’m sure he’ll pull through.”
“I’m not sure of anything anymore, mom.”
“Now, that does not sound like you at all.”
“Things change. What do you do when your plans get wiped out?”
“Wiped out? Whatever do you mean?”
James did not answer; he simply turned and walked out of the room. John followed him with his eyes. He then turned and looked at the lines on his mother’s face that seemed to have appeared in the last hour.
“Mom, I think he is finding out that life is not something we can always control—and maybe that’s a good thing.”
CHAPTER 22
The Corporate World
Somehow life was steering John in a direction that he resisted, but could not change. The romantic view of life had lost its luster, and now pragmatism became the order of the day. So, after trying his hand at a number of creative endeavors, he surrendered to the business world. After all, he had to make a living, and his creative drive could certainly be used to great effect in commerce.
After taking some time to travel around the country and clear his head, he began to prowl the newspapers for an appropriate job. Then, after a number of disastrous interviews, he decided to hand himself over to a search agency. These were people whose job it was to find other people jobs—a very curious affair, John mused. No matter, he would trust them to match his skills—or alleged skills—to the right job.
There may have been something to all this, because no more than a week later he was sitting in the office of a major corporation, nervously going over his notes that he hoped would make him look like a hot prospect to the captains of industry.
An attractive woman called his name and smartly ushered him into the presence of Mr. Calfield, an older man dressed in a traditional business suit complete with collar clip. He stood up and smiled at John as he approached his desk.
“Well, welcome young man.”
John returned the salutation and sat himself down in the plush leather chair provided for him.
“You have a very interesting background, son. Looks like you did rather well in your college years. You know, we always look for smart young men like you.”
This was followed by the traditional battery of questions: “What is your greatest strength?…What is your greatest weakness?…Where would you like to be five years from now?…”
John braced himself for what he thought would be the inevitable question about his “past”; the “Boy Wonder” who stunned crowds and the world with his wisdom. But surprisingly, the question never came. The old man had either never heard of him, or didn’t care. In a way, it was refreshing. John could be himself; he could take his place in the world without being the object of attention. He could live a normal life, perhaps even having a family to love and care for away from the all-seeing eye of the media.
After the questioning, John was introduced to other members of the department that, if all went well, he would be working with. It was a totally new experience, and one that John wondered if he could assimilate. But this was the real world, and survival was the name of the game.
John returned home with the sense that this could work. It was a good opportunity to have a real career and to make decent money.
The days went by and John heard nothing. He began to wonder if he should just chalk all this up to experience and forget about it. But everything changed when he received a call from the job agency that sent him on the interview. Indeed, the company was interested in him, and they wanted him to come in for a second chat. An appointment was made for the next day. He met again with Mr. Calfield and turned on the charm.
The following day he was offered the job.
Things began well enough. He went on several business trips to see how the equipment the company produces works at the customers’ business sites. He wrote proposals on how to better market the products offered. He met with his co-workers to brain-storm ideas on how to make it all work more efficiently.
And then there was the Board meeting.
It was the end of the year and the company was pondering a major shift in their ad and marketing campaigns. John was asked to meet with the company president and others involved in senior management. This was a privilege, and he came to the meeting in his best suit with notes, ideas and great hope.
Things began rather slowly as most of the managers were taking their cues from the president; smiling and nodding their heads at his mundane ideas. After an hour or so of this, John sheepishly raised his hand.
“Sir, I think the ideas we have been discussing around this table so far fall very short of what we really need to do.”
There was absolute silence. John’s immediate boss seemed as if he was hit by a laser beam and
a look of sheer terror seemed to creep over his face.
The company president looked over at John with more curiosity than anger. “And…uh…what is your name again, son?”
“John, sir. John D’Angelo.”
“Hmmm…I see. Tell me, John, what ideas do you have regarding our product line? You’re rather new to the company, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir, I am. But I think what we need to do is to present a new image. Something dynamic!”
“Oh? Like what?”
“Well, we have a reputation for making very good equipment—we are the best at what we do!” There were smiles and nods all around the table. “But our image is that of a fuddy duddy, boring company.” The smiles evaporated into curious frowns. “I think we need to blitz all media outlets with a new ad campaign that makes us look ‘with it’; new, bold—and reaching out to young business people. In fact, I created a character that will represent this new image: Mr. Zapo!”
The president leaned forward in his chair. “Mr…Zapo?”
“Yes, yes.” John was getting excited. “He will be the embodiment of the company. In fact, we should associate him with our logo!”
All eyes were on the president. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, looking up as if a muse were dancing in the air, communing with him and illuminating his thoughts.
“John.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I like it!” Then he arose from his chair as if in triumph. “I really like it! Ok…let’s get going on this…”
Immediately he began to give out assignments to the various department heads. They were to put all related budget funds together to create Mr. Zapo.
Soon, billboards, radios and TV’s were screaming about Mr. Zapo. Sales began to skyrocket; a Mr. Zapo doll even made its way into the toy stores.
By Christmas, Mr. Zapo was as recognizable as any toy ever made. To some he was a super hero who could leap tall sales reports with a single bound. It was a marketing triumph, and John was genius who created him.
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