Take a little trip down a nice neatly trimmed garden path. Oh yeah? Life imitates what??? A new beginning starts off with an old man's scream and ends with a day of school. Short and sensitive. Are you up to it?
He wasn’t really prepared for the job when the call had come in. Hell, he wasn’t prepared for much at six a.m. on any morning. But, it had taken a long time to paint him into the corner he was climbing out of this time, and he was sure it would take a while to un-shovel his current mess.
Michael Mooney was a real smart guy. Unfortunately, as a communications engineer, he was smarter than his peers and his supervisors. That usually and habitually made his services much more expendable than one might think that they could be when his work was so profitable. One co-worker went so far as to say that Michael’s attitude was like ‘sacrificial suicide.’ He would walk into a new job, learn it better than anyone had a right to in a speed beyond most of his contemporary’s comprehension. Then the fun would begin.
Mooney would begin to become demanding and resentful of his bosses and he would not restrain a very sharp tongue. So, once again, his sacrificial suicide had landed him on the unemployment rolls- for the fifth time in seven years.
What was worse for Mooney was that he knew the problem was his fault and he couldn’t stop it. So, this time he decided to take a little break. He was going to be a substitute teacher for the Pasco County School Board. Michael, he hated being called “Mike”, had some experience with kids- he and his wife had raised five- and he had enjoyed teaching when he had formed technician groups during his corporate experiences. He knew he would need to adjust, but he was confident.
That was the one thing that everyone who knew Michael would say about him. He was “confident”. His less amorous appraisers would call him “cocky”, and family would call him “self-assured”. Didn’t much matter when his bosses always called him an “asshole”. Here though, he felt as though the system had actually placed a value on him. Teaching could be just what the doctor ordered since he would HAVE to be aware that students were not as smart as him. His peers and supervisors only had a vested interest in seeing Michael Mooney succeed with this. And he would never be in a position of competition with this field. If he liked it, he would get his full time teaching certification and press on. The world was his oyster- so to speak.
Michael had gone through the preparatory four hours. Many of the “subs” had been very specific about when they would work and what they were willing to teach. Only half of the seventy applicants were interested in anything of a full time nature and there were near 3200 teachers in the large Florida county. Finding work was not going to be tough and he could see what he liked best.
Michael rang the bell and waited for the bus to stop in front of the school on Ridge Rd. Chasco Middle School was part of a large complex that included an elementary school as well. He was scheduled to teach for six hours for the next two weeks to a seventh grade class. Introductory Algebra at varying levels of attainment. “Piece of cake”, he thought.
Up ahead about four hundred feet, Michael Mooney saw what looked like an old decrepit bum. The man seemed like he was standing asleep, rocking back and forth a bit. The vagrant was on the side walk so even if the community officer, a sheriff’s deputy, wanted to run him off, Michael thought that he might not be able to. As Michael drew nearer, he could see that the man twitched while he rocked. He wasn’t really bothering anyone, but he did look a little creepy.
It became hard for Mooney to look at the man. What right did Michael or anyone else have to judge this old man. He looked to be near seventy years old with the scruff of white hair peeking from under his watch cap. It looked as though the closed- eyed man might be singing with his eyes squeezed shut. The man would have been Michael’s age of forty-one in 1971. Michael thought of the times for a man his age three decades earlier.
The man might have had sons that he had sent to battle the Yellow Threat in Viet Nam. Maybe one of those boys hadn’t made it home- or even more than one. Michael thought of the two boys he loved and what that kind of a loss might do to him. His heart sang with the potential for such deep sadness. As he grew closer to the man, he thought for sure that the man was singing but he couldn’t make out any words.
Michael stopped and fished out his wallet. Sure, maybe the guy needed a few bucks. Maybe he would spend the little bit of cash on liquor, but Michael wasn’t going to judge this man. He was just getting over being harshly judged himself and he remembered this firmly. In fact, Michael would give the man his- what- fifteen dollars without passing any judgment. The old dude might even move on away from the school that way.
As he neared the man, he heard the words. Softly the man sang, “Hit the road, Jack. And don’t ya come back. No more. No more. No more. No MORE!” The last “more” with deep emphasis and power, then he’d smile and twitch and sing the same exact thing all over again word for word. Michael was a little afraid to break the trance.
He wanted so badly to give the man his donation though.
“Mister?” The old man just kept on singing.
“Hey, mister?” He said again, louder this time.
Not a wince or a stutter in the resounding hymn.
Michael put his hand on the man’s arm.
“MISTER!”, he yelled and he shook the man a bit. Not hard, but the man was definitely shook.
The man’s eyes opened so wide, the balls could have fallen out. The right side of his mouth dropped slowly as his eyebrows raised to crinkle lines furrowing across his forehead. He began a soft mewling wail that started in a deep low tone and rose to ear piercing volume and pitch as the startled look of fear in his face broke through all of the clouds in Michael’s thoughts. Then the cacophony turned to words as the man pulled away from Michael Mooney’s thoughtful hand.
“The Devil owns your soul and he pays for it with pride!!! Pride, demon!!! Pride!!!” And he turned and ran away screaming.
Michael stood there for a moment and looked at the students, parents and teachers who had stopped on their way into school this day to watch the performance of the two creatures at the sidewalk. He looked for one set of eyes that might have helped him to understand what had just happened but there were none. The eyes only looked at Michael Mooney as if to say, “Now, why did you have to go and do that?”
Michael realized that he was holding the fifteen dollars in his hand and he was suddenly embarrassed. He folded the two bills up and forced them into his pocket, looked down at the ground and headed into the school where no one knew his name to face a new day of challenge.
I enjoyed reading Mooney because it was for real! One way to get readers to keep coming back is to "tell it like it is". Mr. Marry has captured the art of truth telling! vls
Dreamin’ Dreams is more than a collection of stories; it is a celebration of Irish life, adventure, and the unforgettable characters who make growing up in Ireland a journey worth remembering.
A teenage boy struggling with the coming-of-age issues of sexuality, religion, and peer approval is overwhelmed, but soldiers on. After several years, he comes to understand the family forces that have left him so deeply troubled, and the process of
He wasn’t really prepared for the job when the call had come in. Hell, he wasn’t prepared for much at six a.m. on any morning. But, it had taken a long time to paint him into the corner he was climbing out of this time, and he was sure it would take a while to un-shovel his current mess.
