The following story is the first that appears in the book, and serves as an introduction to the collection and many of its themes.
The Dawn Of Questions
Fresh white chert had just been spread over the parking lot at Meadow Woods Country Club where my step-father was parking his brand new 1958 white Plymouth Belvedere. He extinguished his Salem cigarette into the ashtray. According to their brochure Chrysler cars had “ash receivers” but Plymouths merely had “ashtrays.”
He was as Middle America as Middle got—and “by God” he used to say, “I’m proud of it!”
Of course he was as white as the new-spread gravel, and cousin to a President of the United States—Herbert Hoover—whose name he bore with the same sort of stuffy pride.
HP, as my step-father was known, took a table and ordered a martini. It was un-Methodist behavior, but it was also after 2 pm. He lit another Salem and watched the smoke rise up. In spite of his “Aw Shucks” persona, he could be a bastard and I think he was getting prepared for that, looking forward to it perhaps.
What happened that afternoon I’ll never know, but that evening we had dinner together at the Elks Club, which was all the glamour you could get in small town down-state Illinois. We had rib eye steaks and garden salads, and HP went through several more martinis and Salems. He gave me some get-lost-kid money so I went into an off-shoulder alcove and hit the slot machines.
When I returned to the table, a straggle of men were congratulating him for God knows what and he glowed rosily like the pimentos in his gin.
“Ronald,” he said wagging his index finger, “America is the greatest country in the world!” He went on and on until his eyes misted up and I started to cringe.
I went over to the bar and asked the bartender if I needed to sign for anything. “No,” he said, “it’s all taken care of.”
I picked up his car keys off the table, talked him out the door, drove him to the house and let him find his own way in. I drove his new white Belvedere out to Jolliff Bridge and sat there in the darkness. There were butts of cigarettes in the ashtray, I picked one up and lit it, smoked it to the nub and then I lit another one and did the same.
I wondered, what’s a human life for?