Christmas Eve John was busy at his desk finishing up some work and getting ready to spend the holiday with his mom and ailing dad, when the company president phoned him.
“John, I’ve got a great idea, and I want you to get on it as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir, what is it?”
“I want you to be Mr.Zapo!”
“Me…be…Mr…I don’t understand.”
“Oh! You will. I want you to go right down to Times Square as Mr.Zapo. I took the liberty of making a Mr.Zapo suit. It cost the company lots of money, young man, so don’t disappoint me!”
“Well, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say ‘Yes!’ that’s all you have to do!”
“Well, I guess so…”
“Good!”
Presently mangers from several departments rushed excitedly through John’s door, one holding a bright blue and gold costume: Mr. Zapo! John donned the suit and off he went to personify his creation.
The streets were bustling with people doing their last minute shopping. John felt utterly ridiculous in his costume, made even more so by the gaping looks and giggles of the people he was passing.
A small podium had been built with the city’s permission for him to talk about how wonderful the company was and how it was going to revolutionize the office machine business world.
Once again, all seemed to be going well when, for some unexplained reason, John began to wax eloquent about life and reality and the true meaning of life. His co-workers who were present began to look at each other with shrugs of wonderment. But a crowd was building and they decided that he must be doing something right.
A well-dressed man in the crowd stood close by silently scanning the rather odd fellow in front of him. He was now looking intently at John, whose face was quite visible, even with his Mr. Zapo mask on. He now leaned toward John while gently closing his eyes. Suddenly, as if a million volts of electricity had been run through him, he snapped back, eyes wide open. “He’s back!” the man shouted. “He’s back!”
John’s manager had arrived on the scene just in time to watch this event happen. He pulled the man aside. “Whose back?”
“Him!” the man said excitedly. “The Prophet! He’s back!”
“Um…the prophet?”
“Don’t you remember? That kid…you know…that kid on the TV who used to give speeches. Don’t you remember?”
The manager’s face turned ashen. He scrambled up the stairs of a nearby dinner. An elderly woman was in the phone booth in the outer lobby. He grabbed her sweater and firmly pulled her out despite her screeching protests. He dialed the company president’s number and, surprisingly, he immediately picked up.
“Sir, we may have an issue here.”
There was a moment of silence. “Issue? What issue?”
“D’Angelo.”
“Yes! How is he doing?”
“Well,” he said, looking out the dinner window at the crowd that suddenly grew larger. “Someone out here says he’s that kid prophet, or whatever he was…do you remember? That kid a few years back that everybody was talking…”
“Who dominated TV and radio,” the president interrupted, “and even met with the Pope? That kid?”
John’s manager clammed up. He looked at the phone receiver quizzically. “You mean, you knew?”
“Did I know? Why in the world do you think I hired him? I had private investigators all over him during the interview process just to make sure.”
The manager bowed his shoulders down in a sign of resignation. “So…,” he began slowly, “you hired him knowing that eventually someone would recognize him, and you would get the benefit of his past fame.”
“Ah! A grasp for the obvious…that what I like about you, Mike!”
“Is…is…you know…is that right?”
“Why not? I’ll give him his fame back, he’ll make lots of money—and he’ll help us make lots of money. Seems like a fair deal.”
Meanwhile, back on the street the crowds were applauding John’s every word. The man who had remembered John was now on the podium with him. He had grabbed the microphone and was yelling, “It’s him! It’s him!”
The crowed followed suit chanting, “It’s him! It’s him!”
John was flashing the victory sign when all of a sudden his face went blank. Mike had finished his call with the president and rushed back to the street. But John had lept off the podium and was now racing down 42nd street, his cape flapping behind him. The crowd followed in hot pursuit. He dashed across the street nearly getting run down by a pair of cabs who made feeble attempts to stop. The crowd followed, causing a massive traffic jam. Within minutes, news crews in their vans, cameras rolling, tried to catch up. Police helicopters hovered overhead.
Back at the office the word was out and the president quickly made his way to the conference room and turned on the TV. He rubbed his hands with glee as he watched the melee. “Great!” he squealed, “Great!”
But as the cameras zoomed in he could see the look of terror on John’s face. It was obvious that he was not performing a publicity stunt, but fleeing in abject horror. “Somebody get down there and do something! Get him off the streets! He’s going to ruin us!”
The well-constructed plan had backfired with a vengeance; John was running amok, the Board of Directors would surely be irate—and the president’s job would certainly be on the line.
“Um…Don?…Mr.P?” a senior manager said, meekly poking his head in the conference room “There’s an important call for you on line three.”
The president answered and then listened in astonishment. “What? You want to order how many machines?” The other managers now made their way into the conference room and picked up on the conversation. The president cupped his hands over the receiver. “Hey, guys! This is William Baker, the chairman of Consolidated Shipping. Get this; he wants to order three hundred units of our Series III line packaging equipment! He says any company bold enough to do what we did today with Mr. Zapo is ok by him. Can you believe it?”
Once again, the cloud of fame came to rest on John’s shoulders.
CHAPTER 23
The Escape
The old jeep puffed its way up the narrow dirt road. The road provided spectacular views of the mountains but also was one of the most treacherous routes in the state. But John was determined to make it to his cabin before nightfall; it wouldn’t be safe to travel in these parts after dark.
He pulled over to the side of the road and parked. He then got out and looked in the rear window just to check again that he had not forgotten anything. He had his backpack, mess kit, boots, rope and first aid kit laid out in the back of the jeep, ever so neatly. Nothing was going to be left to chance. He got back in and cranked the engine. Nothing. Perhaps it was just a fluke. He turned the key again. Dead. He then got out once more, opened the hood and did a thorough engine inspection. Nothing seemed to be amiss. Puzzled, he then then got back in and once more cranked. Not even a whimper.
He got out and kicked the tire, catching mostly snow and mud with his boot. It splattered up on his nose and forehead. Just then a small pick-up was coming down the road. Before he could even wave for help it had stopped right beside him. The window rolled down and he was confronted with a smiling, semi-toothless occupant.
“Got trouble, friend?”
“Yeah, guess so. Just won’t start.”
“Well, it’s a machine. Machines break. ‘know why? Because they are built by people!” He let out a good belly laugh. “Yup, people are more unreliable than some machines. You can fix a machine, but people…” He shook his head. “Well, get in. I’ll drive you to your destination. If you have any stuff, just throw it on in the back.”
John was a little hesitant, but seeing how he was in the middle of nowhere, and very cold, he decided that the risk level was actually very low.
His new found friend helped him take his gear out of his vehicle, and the two men were off. John was trying to reach the
main cabin cluster of the mountain, a sort of base camp for hikers to get ready before, and recover after, they had made their journey.
The truck weaved and bobbed along, at times coming perilously close to the edge of the road where a two thousand foot drop-off awaited. John was holding the arm rest with white knuckles and trying his best not to look at the road.
“So, what are ya up here for? You look like a city boy.”
“Well, suburbs, anyway. I guess I’m just trying to get away for a while, that’s all.”
“Get away? From what?”
“Oh, nothing really. Just had a job that didn’t work out. Had to quit. I thought this would be a good time to, you know, find myself.”
“Find yourself, huh? You don’t seem lost to me. But you do seem like you’re runnin’. ”
“Running?”
“Sure. That why most people your age come up here. Nature and all. It helps them think. So what’s your problem?”
John thought for a moment. “I suppose I’m running from people who think life is a lot more complicated than it is. And so when you give them a simple answer…” He looked away for a moment. “Well, they think it’s something special. Nobody seems to be in touch with themselves or with others. Everyone floats around in their own glass bubble.”
The man considered John carefully. “I think I know what you mean, son. Used to be that people had what we call ‘community’…not anymore. It’s like every man for himself.”
“Yeah…exactly.”
The truck pulled into a large driveway leading to the cabins. Two forest rangers waved from their horses as the truck passed.
“Well, you take care now, son, ya here?”
“I will.” John felt better than he had in a long time. This country fellow seemed to have a lot on the ball. And for John, that was quite enough.
He spent three solid days in the mountains; hiking and pondering the universe. Some thoughts were profound, and some not so. But in any event, it was a memorable experience. Among the streams, woods and bears there was a certain peace. It was not something he could take constantly, but there was a sense of awe in it all.
Life seemed hopeful again.
CHAPTER 24
A Return to Reason
It had been raining hard that day, but when Uncle Tony’s car pulled into the driveway, the clouds parted and a rainbow appeared across the sky. At least that is what John thought. It was quite incongruous with the events taking place: his dad had just passed away less than twenty four hours previously and a general dread was now hanging over the family.
Uncle Tony made the pilgrimage up the side steps and into the kitchen. It was strangely silent.
“Where is everybody?”
“Around somewhere, uncle.”
“Really? Well, I guess that would be a normal thing for them to retreat for a while. But this family has taken a lot. Right, John boy?”
John met his uncle’s eyes. “Yes it has. Yes it has.”
“Well, I’m sure it will get through this, too.”
“Uncle, I’m not so sure about mom.”
“How so?”
“She is not well. I don’t think she has been for a while. I mean, a long while; years I think.”
“John, I saw this a long time ago. There is no telling what disappointments can do to a person. I really believe that these things can manifest themselves physically. It may start in the mind, but…”
“Yeah, I know. In any event, I’m worried. She was really down before dad died. Now…it’s bad, really bad.”
“John, some of us can take disappointments and heartache, and some can’t.” Uncle Tony’s silver hair seemed darker than ever. Gone was the shiny mane that was his trademark. And now his hands seemed full of age spots, made more noticeable when he gestured. “We have to trust in God; He knows what He is doing even if we do not. So, I guess we have to trust and keep on moving down the road, no matter what may lurk in the path along the way.”
“I just wonder if I contributed to her state.”
“No, No. You must never think that. I know she had a future planned for you, but we cannot control the future. Your mom loves you. She always wanted the best for you. She always sort of kept things together. Now you have got to keep things together.”
John looked the kitchen over. It was very orderly. It was a manifestation of his mother—and an odd sort of monument to her.
“What about me, uncle? You know the rest of the family thinks I’m either a fool, or I did not live up to their expectations.”
His uncle smiled. “You can’t live your life based on the expectations of others, John. At your age, you should know that.”
“Right. But what about my expectations? I’m not even married yet.”
“What about that girl Diane you were seeing.”
“We’re still together.”
“Hey, then get going. You still can have a family in your future.”
“I guess.”
“Make it a reality. You see, it appears like a contradiction, but it’s not. We make choices, but God has already set the path in stone.”
“What about my adventure as the ‘Boy Prophet,’ all those wasted years.”
“Wasted?” Suddenly his uncle became very dark and serious. “Absolutely not! Never say that. You made your mark, and that is more than I can say for a lot of men, many of them much older than you.”
And so the afternoon faded into early dusk, with Uncle Tony sitting court and showering John with his exceptional pearls of wisdom. And these John kept in the archives of his mind.
CHAPTER 25
A Return to the Present
It took a while, but with Uncle Tony’s calm voice and reasoned explanations, the family finally settled down. They now sat in a circle in the living room eating the catered food that John had ordered, and were actually enjoying it.
“Yeah, like, I just can’t believe the way things have turned out,” Aunt Joan said reflectively. She then shrugged. “But if your mother wanted you to have everything, I guess we have to live with it.”
Uncle Bill, busy spooning a wad of lasagna into his mouth, swallowed without even chewing. “We do?” He immediately received an array of unpleasant looks. “Um…well…I guess we do.”
John folded his arms and took in the whole event. Somehow reason had triumphed over emotion—and selfishness, even in his own heart. “I just wish that mom lived to see this.”
And what a sight it was: having his relatives accept something that they could not possibly want was incredible. To see them actually enjoying each other and reminiscing together was even a greater miracle. Somehow, for the first time, they were linked; they had finally realized that a life well lived was a blessed balm to all.
Later that evening, John cleaned up the paper cups and dishes that had been well used.
“Budda, bum, budda bum, bing…”
He carefully put them in large trash bags and marched them out to the garbage cans.
“Bing, bing, dada, da…”
He then cleaned the kitchen to absolute perfection.
“Boom, bang, budda ding…”
Up the stairs he went to his favorite bathroom and carefully brushed his teeth. He then took a long hot shower. He put on his favorite pajamas, the ones with the little dogs on it. He made sure he did not disturb the order of his dresser draw in the process.
In to bed he went, reading a bit of this book, a bit of that book, until he was sufficiently tired. He gazed over at the picture of his mom he had placed on his night table for several moments. He managed a peaceful smile, and then reached over and shut the light.
He knew his dreams would be good ones.
AUTHOR BIO
Joseph M. Bianchi has written on a wide variety of subjects including theology, constitutional law and urban planning. His other books include Common Faith, Common Culture, 21st Century Corinthians, God Chose to Save, and My Friend Grace.
Contact: [email protected]
<
center>
Joseph M. Bianchi, Unnecessary Noises
Unnecessary Noises Page 12
