RSS 2.0 FeedMan On The Moon
I’m named after that song. You know the one that goes, “Ezekiel saw the wheel. Way up in the middle of the air. Now Ezekiel saw the wheel in a wheel. Way up in the middle of the air.” Momma said that the whole while she was carryin’ me she sang that tune during her workin’ days over at the Harker’s place. So that leaves me stuck with an old Bible name I guess. Don’t mind it much. The troubles I’m tryin’ to share with you don’t have nuthin’ to do with momma namin’ me.
My little sister Cleo ain’t the reason either, but thought I better fill in the blanks a little on the family so you know the whole picture. Cleo, she was the smartest one of all of us. She was the one who got all the grades and made the local papers with her good stories and all. The teachers all said she would be a teacher or doctor someday. Too bad that Royce fella came around. He swept her off her feet I guess, and before you knew what happened, she had two little ones, a rundown shack to keep up and a husband who would rather play dice than work. Can’t get too down about that. Happens a lot in our little town. At least she stayed around where momma can see the babies and help out with a pot of grits or some laundry now and agin’.
We wasn’t poor exactly; when ain’t nobody in town have new, your old don’t seem so bad. Momma says that the only poor folk there is is those that don’t ‘preciate what they have. Maybe she’s right. Much better to have my job, roof over my head and full belly than not. Sure would be nice to save a little and get a car; the two miles to work, rain or shine, can wear out a man and his boots.
Anyway, Cleo and me ain’t the point of the story. The problem we had was what to do about R.J. He was a wild man. Momma named him after that famous bluesman from our parts. Momma says she could hear them blues from the minute she knowed he was comin’. After he got here, the story of Robert Johnson meetin’ with the devil made much more sense to all of us. That boy could no sooner speak in church about livin’ right and off he would go, chasin’ some wild idea that would land him in a heap of trouble.
First came the teachers who told momma he was incorrigible, whatever that means. Next came the sheriff who was always lookin’ for R.J. Maybe not for sumthin’ he done, but he sure would know who had done sumthin’. The girls in town all loved him, even when they hated him, if you know what I mean.
Before he went away the first time, we had a party to remember. R.J. borrowed T. Ron’s old Monte, and we took it for a ride down to old man Cleavis’s place. Picked up a little of the old corn juice. Meeting girls was always easy when you had some of the juice to share. Seein’ how the legal juice was ninety miles away in Tennessee, we were the most popular fellas around this town. What a night. Man, we was all up till dawn. Anything else I say would be disrespectful, understand?
Well, back to the trouble we had. So, R.J. runs off. Convinced being on a county work detail for illegal corn for the next one hundred eighty days don’t seem like such a great plan, he is lookin’ for a ways out. The fella down to the ‘cruitment office sells him on another crazy idea. Head off for Georgia with a four year hitch in the army, and all your worries over the sheriff and lockup will be over. Don’t think R.J. thought this through much. He weren’t one of those who took much time makin’ decisions. He figured, How bad can it be? Even if they do send him to Vietnam, those little Chinamen won’t be no bother. R.J. always did have a live-and-let-live attitude ‘bout other people. Too bad he didn’t know those Chinamen didn’t share the same thoughts.
So what happens next is momma gets a letter ‘bout once a month. Each one starts with some good news about the guys in his squad and a funny joke or two about Spinerski. He seems to be the guy that everybody funs on mostly. From what I understand he is from Jersey, and folks are different up that way. That’s why they give him a hard time. R.J.’s best buddy Lionel is from Tacoma. That’s a long ways off, too, but they seem to get along real good. Two peas in a pod, momma said. At the end of each letter R.J. always had some serious stuff to share about wanting to come home and all. Guess it wasn’t all jokin’ around when the guys in the dark have guns, too.
Each of the letters were sadder than the last the longer he was over there in that jungle. Made sense to me, ain’t nobody happy in that sweaty, buggy place especially when the pajama fellas are tryin’ to send you home early. R.J. told us about the bags and planes and such. Momma and I really wanted to hear more about jokes with Lionel, but those were coming less those days.
‘Round October when his tour was ‘bout over, we heard just about the worst news. Spinerski got all caught up in a ambush, and his leg got shot right off. Funny how R.J. explained it, seemed like he wished it was him got shot so he could come home. I thought that was crazy talk, but what do I know. Maybe bein’ stuck there was worse than coming home with no leg. Sure don’t mean to be no judge about R.J. feelin’ that way. That letter made momma cry. I think she could feel inside what R.J. was sayin’, and her heart was breakin’ over her boy bein’ so discouraged.
The last letter we got said he had only three more days til he could leave. Since mail took so long to get here from over there, we figured he was already in California waitin’ for his plane to bring him back home here to Arkansas. Day after that he called the house, and we went down to the train station in Pocahontas to pick him up. He looked much older. Not so much in what he said but how he looked. A faraway look and a sad wash was on him like a old rundown fence, if you know what I mean. I was guessin’ he just needed a long rest and some of momma’s cookin’, and he would be back to his old self in no time.
Wish it was so but that ain’t how it went. R.J. had even more trouble stayin’ out of trouble. Nuthin’ seemed to stop his restless runnin’ around. Sleepin’ came awful hard for him, and when he did sleep, we could all hear the anger in his voice when he mumbled out at night. Cleo tried to have him watch the little ones, thinkin’ maybe some new life would come back to his step. He did a super job watchin’ the babies, but his heart wasn’t in it.
We missed the ol’ R.J. Always clownin’ and teasin’ to the point where we would chase him down and beat him good, all playful you know? We didn’t know what to do with him. There was nuthin’ we tried that would even bring a smile let alone a full whoop and holler like any prank we thought up used to do before he left. It was gettin’ to the point that most folks in town who used to think of him as Robin Hood and loved him all the time were not even stopping by to say hello anymore. Before too long we knew something had to give. Nuthin’ would bring him back to us, so we all sat quiet one day and waited for him to talk.
He said, “Momma, Ezey,” he always called me that, “I gotta go back.”
We said, “No you don’t. That ain’t no place for you.” But he just smiled. That smile wasn’t the happy kind. It was the kind you make when you wish somebody understood what you was sayin’. But you knowed they don’t. I sure wish he hadn’t smiled like that.
Next thing we know he is back in the Army and askin’ to go back over to the war. Nobody can tell me that makes a lick of sense when you just got lucky and made it home once. No sense in temptin’ fate again is what I say. R.J. never did listen much to me, even though he heard the words, he would go his own way most times.
This time the letters were less and less. His army pal Lionel wrote us once. That was fun to read. He told us lots of stories about R.J.. For some reason it seemed that Lionel knew a much different guy than our R.J.. Like as if there were two different R.J.s, and we hadn’t ever met the guy Lionel was buddies with. Lionel told us that he was working at a grocery in Medford, had met a girl and she was ‘bout ready to have a little girl. Momma wrote him back and told him lots of good things about our family. Wished him and his girl all the best but left out the part about R.J. going back over there. Momma knew somehow that that would make Lionel feel as bad as we did.
I went off to the feed plant every day. Most days I was glad about my work and tin roof to keep me dry. As the year went by, we heard less and less from R.J.. Somehow I think he really was lost in his thoughts. Bein’ over there was more about doin’ than thinkin’ It wasn’t like he didn’t want to share with us what was happenin’, it was more like he just didn’t know how.
Done lots of ramblin’ without really getting to the point. Bag of wind momma would say. Anyways the point of the whole story is I was over to momma’s one day last week fixin’ up a broke spot in her garden fence when a fancy car pulled up. Out jumped a general or something. He had lots of badges and such on his uniform, and boy did he look sharp. I’ll bet R.J. looked just like that when he was all spruced up in his good uniform. Well, this man asked for momma, but she was workin’. Right then I knew somethin’ warn’t right. This army man had a look on his face like the dogs do when they come back from huntin’ empty handed. Like he wished for some better news to tell me. He apologized and handed me a stiff envelope with a note sayin R.J.’d been killed in action. He told me that R.J. was a true hero, and I knowed it was true, but that didn’t help me with my feelins’ right then, you know what I mean?
Once I got done walkin, that’s what I always do when there lots to think about, I went to see momma. Somehow I knowed she would keep it all together for Cleo and me. I told her what the Army man had said and gave her the letter. All she had to say after a short cry was they can put a man on the moon, but they can’t seem to end this stupid war. Momma don’t use harsh language very often, so we could tell she was troubled more than just on her face but down in her heart. But she never let on. Just kept goin’, watchin’ Cleo’s kids and mendin’ clothes for extra money from all the townsfolk. Nobody talks about R.J. when she’s around now. I guess they understand. I wish I did.