The Legend of the Barefoot Mailman

by John Henry Fleming

  But this image of a family story was too like the memory he had of his family’s dissolution and his father trying desperately and pathetically to keep them together by telling stories he did not believe. Now Josef had caught himself lying in the same way. He’d made a sweet illusion for himself, like the romantic convent on his family’s wine labels. He saw his family gathered around the wine tubs the way they used to, making things pretty, telling themselves lies, blissful and smiling in their foolish ignorance. It had been only a matter of time until those beautiful lies showed their second faces and revealed themselves to Josef as nothing more than selling tools. They’d worked on Josef; he’d bought them, and used everything he had to do so. But he was not going to let it happen again.

  He shuddered and cursed himself for his weaknesses. How could he think of returning? He’d never be able to face his Aunt Lois. He’d have disgraced the memory of his dear uncle, and he’d never be capable of respecting or redeeming himself again. Every time he read a news report about the growing opportunities in Florida (and there were sure to be many) he would cringe with shame, knowing that so many others were succeeding where he had failed. No degree of success in Brooklyn could ever erase the humiliation of his failure as a pioneer.

  Come what may, he resolved, Lena would have to survive without him. It was she who’d left him, after all, and for what reason? A few words of impoliteness by a native who doesn’t know any better? A few harmless insects? Her disdain for the local cuisine? Well, she could return to Brooklyn and face her shame. Perhaps it would even do Lena good to spend time in the Old Country, where everything was settled and safe, where the hard work had already been done. But Josef would stay here and brave it out as Mordy and Lois had when they first came to America. Aunt Lois would understand. Certainly she hadn’t taken a steamer back to Austria the first time she’d encountered a rude, uncultured American. She and Mordy must have had their difficulties, but they’d stuck it out and made a place for themselves.

  Out of respect for his uncle and also for himself, Josef reaffirmed his commitment to the pioneer life—wifeless now, if that was the way fate would have it.

  The sky had turned thick and dark, and the insects began to circle Josef’s head. He dragged himself into his house and, seeing the mosquito netting balled up on the dining-room table where Lena had left it, took it to bed with him and pulled it over him like a blanket. Though he’d gained strength in his new resolve, he still could not help but dream of Lena and what might have been, what should have been, his fortune.

  IN THE MORNING, Josef resigned to go across the lake and seek employment, perhaps as a mate on a fishing boat, or a field hand on one of the small farms, or, if he had to, as a waiter in the postmaster’s restaurant. He’d replant his grove someday, but now he hadn’t even the money for seeds. He thought it would be good for him to place himself in a position where he could interact with and learn the ways of the local population.

  He shaved and washed his face, crying out in pain whenever he brushed his swollen nose or his blackened eyes. Then he wrote a note out to prospective employers:

  To Whom It May Concern:

  I, Josef Steinmetz, attest that I am young, strong, honest, and industrious. I seek employment for fair wages wherever it is needed. I have numerous labor skills, and am knowledgeable in the science of horticulture. I hold no grudges against those in authority, and I do not get seasick on small boats. References available upon request.

  He copied this résumé five times over, to post around town and to leave with men with whom he’d inquire personally.

  He brought a hammer and tacks with him, too, and when he got off the boat in front of the post office, he nailed one résumé to a post on the dock.

  When he entered the post office, he found the postmaster and his wife sorting mail behind the counter.

  “Look, Mely,” said Earl, falling immediately back into the role of sarcastic Wild-West bartender, “it’s that ghost from across the lake.”

  “Don’t make fun of the man, Earl,” said Mely. “His nose is broken and he has you to thank.”

  Earl looked at her with annoyance. She had upstaged him already.

  Josef was eager to get on with business. “I do thank you for your kindnesses,” he said, and began the little speech he’d rehearsed on the way over. “I hope I do not impose myself on you at the present time when I present you with my résumé. I seek employment, and since you, postmaster, are familiar with all the townsfolk, I’m hoping that when they come to you for mail you will bring up my name within the context of honest men who seek steady employment, if such a context were to present itself in your conversation.”

  Earl took the résumé from him and looked it over.

  “Wellsir,” he said, “we’ll see what we kin do. But first you’d best let Mely bandage up that nose of yours. People’ll think you’re looking for a job as town ghoul.”

  “Watch yerself, Earl,” said Mely. She motioned for Josef to come behind the counter. He did so nervously, feeling like a spy or an intruder there on the government side of the office.

  Mely disappeared to go get some bandages. She was the closest thing the town had to a nurse, simply because she wasn’t squeamish about it.

  Josef was left in an uncomfortable position, alone with the postmaster and out of his usual role as customer. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Earl, too, felt somewhat uncomfortable. He’d played postmaster to Josef’s postal patron, and he’d played maître d’ to Josef’s restaurant guest, but now there was no script, there were no easy lines. It was an entirely new situation, and Earl felt a lot depended on it. He still had high hopes for the ultimate success of his restaurant, but he knew, after the incident a couple nights ago, that the chips could fall either way. Later, when he thought again about this moment and about how he’d nursed a new role out of seeming chaos—and what a role it turned out to be, a role with eminence and majesty, a role with more power and beauty than he’d ever thought imaginable!—he’d have to say that the role was written for him by fate itself.

  When Josef had been knocked to the floor that night in the restaurant, Earl had confronted the offender, albeit meekly.

  “There weren’t no need for that,” he’d said to him, not yet understanding that what had just happened could be turned to his advantage. “There just weren’t no need for it.”

  Then the dirty man grabbed Earl by the shirt, got up in his face and demanded fifteen dollars for his services to the community.

  And it hit Earl all at once who this man was and why he felt neglected. He apologized profusely, gave the man his wages, fed him the Steinmetzes’ dinner, and sent him on his way. A cozy feeling came over him then, like he’d just uncovered some forbidden information that could help him in some yet undiscovered way.

  Today he found a use for it.

  Earl broke the silence. “Way I understood it, you was working on an orange grove across the lake.”

  “I’ve decided to hold off cultivating the land until I better acquaint myself with the local settlers and their customs,” said Josef.

  Earl felt a faint shudder of nerves. Many things were happening at once, and he wasn’t sure what it all meant. This man had been tossed upon his shore like a formless and unknown sea creature. What did it mean? Was it a gift? It had to be a gift.

  Earl tried to remain calm, sorting and re-sorting the mail, keeping his eyes on that until Mely returned with the bandages.

  “Now, how ’bout that pretty little wife of yours,” said Earl, “if you don’t mind me askin. You going to leave her alone all day?”

  “Earl,” said Mely, admonishing.

  “I have sent my wife back to Brooklyn,” said Josef, reciting the little speech he’d prepared to explain this fact. “She is unwell, and it’s better for her to wait there until I have established myself in this area. It was a mistake to bring her here so soon.”

  It wasn’t really a lie, Josef told himself. Yesterday, he would hav
e been ashamed to distort the facts this way. But now, as he spoke the words, he believed them fully.

  “You tell them folks in Brooklyn to fatten her up some,” said Mely. “A gal down here has to be strong.”

  “That’s right,” said Earl. “Down here there ain’t no women’s work and there ain’t no men’s work, there’s just work and lots of it. Everybody’s got to do his share. Least, that’s what Mely says.”

  “Most folks do a fair share,” said Mely. “But folks who’re married to men with a government post seem to put in a little extra. I hope, for yer wife’s sake, you stay away from a government post.”

  “I reckon a government man has to sacrifice certain pleasures in service to the nation.” Earl was about to elaborate on this when he was struck dumb by a brilliant thought. Once again, he owed Mely a debt of gratitude for planting the seed. This young immigrant, this gift of fortune, had come to him this morning looking for a job, and now Earl had found one for him.

  “Listen, er, Mr. Steinmetz. I believe I have somethin you might be innarested in. I didn’t mention it before ’cause I didn’t want to embarrass you. But I felt so bad about that trash-talking feller dustin yer snout, I went and got him fired. Matter of fact, I just wrote out the letter to the Postmaster General before you came in this morning. It might take a few months traversin the proper channels, gettin approved here and there in all the high places. But it’s within my authority, in emergency situations like the one facing us now—I mean, what bigger emergency could there be than a town without mail service—so it’s in my authority to appoint an interim postal carrier until such time as the new hiring is approved, at which time I may just waive the probationary period, owing to yer months of interim duty, and you will be promoted to official postal carrier for the U-nited States Government.”

  Mely gave him a stem look, knowing it was all a lie. But for Earl it was only a half-lie, or at least one he could make true.

  Mely pressed bandages onto Josef’s nose. He flinched in pain until he realized the great opportunity the postmaster was giving him. His eyes came alive.

  “Do I stand a chance of qualifying?” he said. “That is to say, I feel confident I could meet the challenge of such a position, but surely I am up against experienced candidates.”

  “No,” said Earl, shaking his head. “Lucky for you, you’re the first man to apply. Now, as far as meetin the qualifications, well les jes see here.” He picked up one of Josef’s handwritten résumés.

  “Careful now, Earl,” said Mely, still affixing bandages to Josef’s face.

  “This is official government business, Mely,” said Earl. “You don’t understand about it.”

  “I never heard of the government conductin monkey business.”

  “Then you ain’t never worked for the government, Mely.”

  Sure, it’s a kind of game, he thought. But he knew it had far-reaching implications. This was more than play-acting. This was the key turn of events in the story of Earl Shank. The world would know that one day. The whole world would celebrate how his sense of humor did not fail him in a moment thick with majesty. He had the ultimate composure. And when the rest of the world was finally convinced, then maybe even Mely would regret her short-sightedness at the Primary Moment.

  “Okay,” he said, holding the note. “Yer young and strong—that’s good, there’ll be lots and lots of walkin to test them young legs. ‘Honest,’—that’s good too, because a carrier needs all the friends he kin get. ‘Industriess’ . . . well, you never know when that might come in handy. Oh, and horticulture—well that’s a must-know in case you get stranded with no food nor water—you could just plant some seeds and wait for the fruit. I don’ mean to scare you off with my talk, Mr. Steinmetz, but this ain’t the easiest job.”

  Josef straightened himself. “I am prepared to endure great difficulties,” he said.

  Earl leaned back and gave Josef a final inspection, taking in those old shoes and the still-new suspenders and unsullied shirt, and read Josef’s eyes for the first time—the earnestness and also the painful innocence. He wondered if he was doing the right thing in sending this man out onto the beach route. The young immigrant was hardly an ox—still somewhat soft and pale and citified, as a matter of fact. And he didn’t strike Earl as a vessel of practical knowledge. It was obvious, though, that the man had a big heart, and whatever else made Earl waver in this decision was quickly overcome by that recognition. In this moment Earl forgot completely the pain of his past failures and recognized only the beauty that was about to emerge from all of them. The young man deserved a chance to fail as Earl had, but also to share in the glory of Earl’s success.

  “Wellsir, Mr. Steinmetz, I do believe you meet the qualifications. Given the urgency of the situation, I won’t be required to check yer references. Welcome to the Government.” He held out his thick hand.

  Josef took it and gave him a firm shake, clenching his teeth against the pain from his burns and splinters.

  “Show up tomorra morning ready for a long walk,” said Earl.

  Josef left.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you and the U-nited States Post Office where to go, way you was treatin him,” said Mely.

  “Just havin a little fun, Mely.”

  “At another man’s expense.”

  “What a fella don’t know don’t hurt ’im.”

  “Well, I don’t reckon you know if that little man’s goin ta hold up out on that beach. And I reckon not knowin that, and not knowin a single thing about this man, could get you a mighty big thrashin comin out of Washington.”

  “Well, I read his résumé, Mely. You heard me—he’s strong, honest, and industriess, and what more could a body ask for? A man’s got to trust in his fellow man. That’s the way things work around here, you oughtta know that. And when in Rome, et cetera.”

  “Keep daydreamin, Earl. See if it don’t land you out of a job.”

  Earl was thinking now about Josef, imagining that he had gone right home to write all his relatives and tell them about his new job and about the kind postmaster who’d hired him, and about the kind postmaster’s remarkably quaint little restaurant in the middle of the Florida jungle and, though he didn’t get to taste the food, he’d been able to smell it, and could attest to the delicate aroma of the fine cuisine that most certainly is served there, making the restaurant a must-see on any trip down the Florida coast, should any of his relatives or their friends be inclined toward a little tropical holiday.

  “Earl,” said Mely.

  But Earl could not be shaken out of this daydream, for he knew that the young immigrant was the embodiment of his fortune. And now Earl was fortune’s boss.

  Chapter 8

  AS JOSEF RETURNED to his little house, he was deep in thought, not so deep that he’d forgotten that his wife had left him, but deep enough that he permitted himself to indulge in thinking about her and about the things he’d say to her if she were still at home and things were as they should be. He imagined how proud she’d be of him that he’d landed this job, how she’d look at him with new eyes, full of undying faith and confirmed love. She’d grow sorrowful as she helped him prepare for his morning’s journey, but he’d tell her that it was only for a short time, and if they endured this one hardship their lives would change for the best, their marriage would strengthen, and they’d learn to love what they could not always have in front of them to hold and care for.

  But just as soon as Josef stepped into the empty house, his little fantasy was shattered into the shards of vanity he knew it to be. His wife did not possess that kind of strength, and he had not possessed the faith to imbue her with it. He had to put that behind him now and hope that his new experiences would fill him with the perseverance he’d been waiting for. He was determined to make his Uncle Mordy smile down upon him.

  “Show up ready for a long walk,” the postmaster had said. If only he had those fine loafers to wear. Nothing would have made Mordy happier than for Josef to write
him explaining how he’d begun a new job working for the United States Government and how he was going to perform his duties in the fine leather loafers he’d received for his birthday. But then, if it weren’t for the missing loafers, Josef thought, none of this would have occurred, and he sensed for the first time that mysterious powers were at work shaping the events of his life in Florida.

  He knew he had to do something to make his uncle proud, for those times when Mordy looked down from high above and could know that he was remembered by his survivors. He couldn’t wear the loafers, but there had to be something else.

  He slept little that night, turning over and over as his mind did the same to come up with a fitting act of devotion for the uncle who’d made all this possible.

  WHEN JOSEF RETURNED to the post office early the next morning, Earl was waiting for him behind the counter.

  “Glad to see you, Mr. Steinmetz. Lookee here.” He pulled a sack from behind the counter and set it on top. “My wife’s cooked you snapper, and thrown it in this sack with some fruit and vegetables. There’s enough for a round trip, if it holds up in the sun. But anyway, that postmaster in Biscayne ought to give you something. I put a note in to him along with the rest of the mail, tellin him the situation, that that ornery SOB’s been fired and from now to make sure that only you get the mail.”

  Then Earl pulled out an official postal sack, emblazoned in blue with the postal insignia, eagle and stars encircled by the words United States Postal Service. At the sight of it, Josef’s heart swelled with pride. He was going to contribute to the very operation of this vast and wonderful country, his adopted home.

  Earl embarked on a full description of the postal carrier’s duties and routes, and what he might expect along the way. He gave him the pep talk about how Josef was now a link in the great chain of mail delivery stretching across this great, proud land. Josef listened earnestly. “And as you know,” said the postmaster, “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Now down here in Florida, that chain is just as thin as a lone man walking the beach for sixty miles at a stretch, and I feel obliged to tell you that that lone, thin link yer about to walk is full of serious dangers, both natural and man-made, evil things that try their dangdest to stretch that link to its breakin point, thereby leavin the great chain of the United States Postal Service danglin free and easy in the wind, allowin any ol’ body to come along and pull it at one end, thereby ringin the bell at the other. And sir, that bell is none other than your true boss, the President of the U-nited States—a man who does not appreciate gettin his bell rung.”