From the journal of Kevin Savacier, age 37
April 20, 1990
I got a letter from my friend from Cole, Bill Kazan, the other day, and he said he and Karen are planning to move, with their six children, to New Orleans! This is exciting news to me. I've enjoyed every minute of living here, since graduating from Tulane, and look forward to having a big reunion with them, and showing them around. Funny thing about Bill and Karen--they sure had their share of fun, but after they got married and all those children started popping out, one after another, all that responsibility kicked in, and I'll be surprised if I, a bachelor, can even get them out of the house long enough to go have dinner somewhere!
I'm curious as to why they're relocating here, and where Bill and Karen have worked and all, but I'm sure we'll catch up at some point.
After I read that letter, I got to thinking about all those crazy things that happened in so short a period of time back in the early 1970s. My gang and I were just kids back then, and laughed off so many of the antics of the old folks. Looking back on it, though, it couldn't have been so funny to them, and it's no wonder that when I go back to Cole from time to time, then old place just isn't what is used to be. I recognize more names in the cemetery than I do in the newspaper these days, and it depresses me. I can count on one hand the number of my contemporaries who still live there; we've all just sort of lost track of each other. I'm sure Bill and Karen will bring me up to date, but there's got to be a good reason why they, too, left the place.
I've had a series of teaching jobs in both the public and parochial schools in New Orleans over the years. When people ask me how on earth I learned "values" growing up in Cole, after I tell them some of the salacious stories from the seventies, my reply is that it is not so much of what went on and was talked about, so much as it was what did not go on. I mean, we did have a few good teachers and preachers who tried to keep things on an even keel, but they certainly couldn't legislate morals. My folks didn't allow me to go out much, but this didn't leave any emotional scars, and, given life in New Orleans, I'll always be thankful for their concern and direction. Friends with no compass or good moral upbringing ruined themselves early; some have even already lost their earthly lives.
If I hadn't had such good teachers, I wouldn't have lasted as long as I have, trying to teach English and History to today's kids.
My phone's ringing now.
April 21, 1990
Well, things haven't changed much with Bill! He and Karen are still doing just fine, but he's ready for a break from those kids! We're scheduled to go to a pub tonight, a bar I doubt seriously Karen will track him down in. In fact, after we leave the pub, if Bill's the same Bill I remember him as from twenty years ago, the party won't be over yet.
THE END
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Winners and Losers, book 3, chapter 16
At five thirty that afternoon, George and Helen were at Thomas' and Mary Kay's house for drinks.
The telephone rang.
"Hello--yes, they are here now. Just a minute."
Mary Kay turned to George, and gave him the receiver.
As George conversed with Taylor Baker, everyone in the room was concerned.
"It doesn't look good," Taylor said. "The gunshot wound is spreading into infection in Mr. Abraham. Josiphene--well, Josiphene just sits in her bed and stares into space. Her visitors, few as they are, tell me she won't say anything--just sits there, staring into space. And, to top things off, this mess about a Mrs. Abraham hasn't helped things any!"
"Damn!" George sighed. "I'd like to know more about this so called Mrs. Abraham--is she for real? I've heard so many second hand, passed down stories!"
"Well," Taylor continued, "there's one thing you can be certain of--she's for real! Seems her name is Gloria--she was a Smith, from somewhere out in Cole County!"
"Smith--Smith," George mumbled, "I don't think I recall any Gloria Smith."
"The story is that they were married about ten years ago," Taylor said, "when Nicholas was living in New Orleans. The marriage--the togetherness, that is--lasted about two months. Then, they separated. She stayed in New Orleans, and Nicholas returned to Cole."
"Did Josiphene know anything about it?"
"That," Taylor replied, "no one knows. It's doubtful that Abraham told her, though."
"Do you know where Gloria Abraham is now?"
"At the hospital--by her husband's bedside."
"The entire situation is a mess!" George said, after he hung up. "A damn mess!"
Before George could sit down, the telephone rang again.
"George," said Taylor Baker, "I'm going to make this short as possible. Nicholas Abraham just passed away."
"Thank you, Taylor," a shocked and humiliated George replied. "How is Josiphene?"
"We haven't told her, George," Taylor replied. "Listen--if it's okay with you--I mean, if it won't inconvenience you or anything, I'd like to meet with you. Let me see--tomorrow is Wednesday. I figure the funeral will be Thursday or Friday. Could we possible meet at my office Saturday morning? I'm afraid Josiphene is going to have to go to a special clinic for a few weeks. It will have to be something better than we can offer at the Cole Hospital."
"Certainly," George, holding back years, replied, "anything for my sister!"
"With treatement and proper care," Taylor said, "the ole girl should be back on her feet in no time at all!"
The remainder of the week in Cole was full of tension, and an atmosphere of gloom hung over the streets of town, as if to remind the surviving citizens of not only better times in the past, but, somehow, of better times to come.
Times had, in fact, been getting increasingly difficult in Cole. The little place seemed so remote, and was not keeping pace with modern technology. Young folks were going off to college and not returning after they graduated, preferring, instead, the faster pace of the big cities, elsewhere. It was hard to attract a reputable industry to the area, and a strange influx of illegal drugs was threatening the fabric, moral and otherwise, of people of all ages. Keen observers were beginning to see the handwriting on the wall, and fearing for the future. And, though race relations were better than in past years, there was still a great deal of room for improvement in that area, also.
Nichcolas' funeral was held that Thursday afternoon, at three o'clock. Since he had not been active in any particular church, the chapel of the funeral home was the setting. Everyone from janitor to top executive attended, some, curiosity seekers. Word got around.
Friday evening, Ellis and Linda Kazan had George and Helen for dinner at the Kazan home, and the occasion was a refreshing relief to George who, for the past week, had been under pressure, worrying about the condition of Josiphene, and the upcoming meeting with Taylor Baker.
Saturday morning, the meeting went smoothly. It took some cool persuasion of Taylor's part, but he finally convinced George that Josiphene would have to be sent to a clinic in Arizona for several weeks of treatement of nerves and stomach disorders. Again, Taylor assured George that if Josiphene was treated properly, she would be "good as new" soon.
Throughout all the mess of that past week, there was one man who had been all but forgotten: Eli Michael. Though it was yet to happen, most people agreed that he would probably be arrested and charged with manslaughter, sooner or later. There was no word on whether anyone would try to keep the grocery store open, but different family members, cousins and all, were slowly but surely emptying its contents before they spoiled.
As for Eli, mainly because of what his wife had done before she left the house to go on that last date with Eli, he would always passionately love Josiphene. He hoped that, some day, something between them could be worked out. Unfortunately, though, he also doubted it.
The telephone rang.
"Hello--yes, they are here now. Just a minute."
Mary Kay turned to George, and gave him the receiver.
As George conversed with Taylor Baker, everyone in the room was concerned.
"It doesn't look good," Taylor said. "The gunshot wound is spreading into infection in Mr. Abraham. Josiphene--well, Josiphene just sits in her bed and stares into space. Her visitors, few as they are, tell me she won't say anything--just sits there, staring into space. And, to top things off, this mess about a Mrs. Abraham hasn't helped things any!"
"Damn!" George sighed. "I'd like to know more about this so called Mrs. Abraham--is she for real? I've heard so many second hand, passed down stories!"
"Well," Taylor continued, "there's one thing you can be certain of--she's for real! Seems her name is Gloria--she was a Smith, from somewhere out in Cole County!"
"Smith--Smith," George mumbled, "I don't think I recall any Gloria Smith."
"The story is that they were married about ten years ago," Taylor said, "when Nicholas was living in New Orleans. The marriage--the togetherness, that is--lasted about two months. Then, they separated. She stayed in New Orleans, and Nicholas returned to Cole."
"Did Josiphene know anything about it?"
"That," Taylor replied, "no one knows. It's doubtful that Abraham told her, though."
"Do you know where Gloria Abraham is now?"
"At the hospital--by her husband's bedside."
"The entire situation is a mess!" George said, after he hung up. "A damn mess!"
Before George could sit down, the telephone rang again.
"George," said Taylor Baker, "I'm going to make this short as possible. Nicholas Abraham just passed away."
"Thank you, Taylor," a shocked and humiliated George replied. "How is Josiphene?"
"We haven't told her, George," Taylor replied. "Listen--if it's okay with you--I mean, if it won't inconvenience you or anything, I'd like to meet with you. Let me see--tomorrow is Wednesday. I figure the funeral will be Thursday or Friday. Could we possible meet at my office Saturday morning? I'm afraid Josiphene is going to have to go to a special clinic for a few weeks. It will have to be something better than we can offer at the Cole Hospital."
"Certainly," George, holding back years, replied, "anything for my sister!"
"With treatement and proper care," Taylor said, "the ole girl should be back on her feet in no time at all!"
The remainder of the week in Cole was full of tension, and an atmosphere of gloom hung over the streets of town, as if to remind the surviving citizens of not only better times in the past, but, somehow, of better times to come.
Times had, in fact, been getting increasingly difficult in Cole. The little place seemed so remote, and was not keeping pace with modern technology. Young folks were going off to college and not returning after they graduated, preferring, instead, the faster pace of the big cities, elsewhere. It was hard to attract a reputable industry to the area, and a strange influx of illegal drugs was threatening the fabric, moral and otherwise, of people of all ages. Keen observers were beginning to see the handwriting on the wall, and fearing for the future. And, though race relations were better than in past years, there was still a great deal of room for improvement in that area, also.
Nichcolas' funeral was held that Thursday afternoon, at three o'clock. Since he had not been active in any particular church, the chapel of the funeral home was the setting. Everyone from janitor to top executive attended, some, curiosity seekers. Word got around.
Friday evening, Ellis and Linda Kazan had George and Helen for dinner at the Kazan home, and the occasion was a refreshing relief to George who, for the past week, had been under pressure, worrying about the condition of Josiphene, and the upcoming meeting with Taylor Baker.
Saturday morning, the meeting went smoothly. It took some cool persuasion of Taylor's part, but he finally convinced George that Josiphene would have to be sent to a clinic in Arizona for several weeks of treatement of nerves and stomach disorders. Again, Taylor assured George that if Josiphene was treated properly, she would be "good as new" soon.
Throughout all the mess of that past week, there was one man who had been all but forgotten: Eli Michael. Though it was yet to happen, most people agreed that he would probably be arrested and charged with manslaughter, sooner or later. There was no word on whether anyone would try to keep the grocery store open, but different family members, cousins and all, were slowly but surely emptying its contents before they spoiled.
As for Eli, mainly because of what his wife had done before she left the house to go on that last date with Eli, he would always passionately love Josiphene. He hoped that, some day, something between them could be worked out. Unfortunately, though, he also doubted it.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Winners and Losers, book 3, chapter 15
Tuesday morning, in the Kazan Store, tongues were flapping and ears were open.
"Yes," said Mildred Baker to Ellis, at the meat counter, "they tell me Nicholas Abraham has a wife. That scoundrel!"
"That's what they say!" Ellis, cutting meat, replied.
"How's that?" asked Janet Silverman, overhearing, "I heard she wants money from Nicholas!"
"Where did you hear that?" Mildred questioned.
"From one of my snoopy bird dogs!" Janet snapped.
At Cole High School, during the morning break, Bill Kazan and a new friend, Ruth Anson, were chatting in front of the gym. Karen Ingram, her face heavy with makeup, and wearing a new dress, walked up.
"Bill," Karen said, "have you been missing your car trunk key?"
"Yes," Bill, not really wanting to talk to Karen, replied.
"I found it last night!" Karen said.
"Where?" Bill asked.
Karen pretended to be waving to someone, and looked away.
"Where?" Bill, his voice growing angry, again asked.
"Oh," Karen teased, "it was on my bedroom floor. Of course, I can't imagine how it got there! Anyway, I got it!"
"Give it to me," Bill said, "and I'll be eternally grateful!"
"Oh," Karen said, "I see we're learning the art of sarcasm now! I don't have it here--I mean, it's at my house! I'll be home tonight if you want to come get it!"
"Well," said Ruth, "I better be leaving, Bill. If you two have business to discuss, I better be leaving."
"No!" Bill said. "Please stay!"
"Oh, Ruth," Karen said, "I hate to cramp your style, but Bill and I do have something to discuss."
"No, we--" Bill began.
"I'll see you, Ruth," Karen said. "Nice seeing you."
"Okay, damn you, Karen," Bill said, "What the hell is so important that I have to go to your house to get my trunk key?"
Karen began to cry. Bill, pretending to be indifferent, looked away.
"Want a cigarette?" Bill said.
"No," Karen replied. "Remember, we're at school. We've been in enough trouble lately--I don't want us getting suspended for smoking at school!"
"Karen," Bill said, "do you realize how scared you had my ass when you lied that you were pregnant?"
"Well," Karen said, "that didn't seem to bother you when Bobby Nace caught us in the motel room, did it!"
"Uh--" Bill mumbled, his face turning red.
"Admit it, baby," Karen said. "We're meant for each other. You're probably the most handsome guy in this town. You don't take shit from anybody! It's probably no secret to you that you weren't my first fuck, but, man, you're the best!"
"Damn," Bill said, "do you realize how trashy that sounded, Karen?"
"Oh, Bill," Karen again cried, "I made you a cake. It would look pretty funny if I brought it to school."
"I don't know if I want your damn cake!" Bill, grabbing Karen's arm, said.
"You'll have to come to my house to get that key, then," Karen said, wiping her tears.
After a silence during which the two looked deeply into each others eyes, Bill suddenly realized that Karen, despite her reputation, really did love him. In a rather vulgar way, he looked up and down her early matured body.
Karen grew excited.
"I'll be out around eight tonight," Bill said.
"You'll never regret it!" Karen said. "I'll never lie to you again. You'll never regret it!"
Later in the day, in class, Karen passed a note to Sarah Hammer, which read,
I got Bill back! He's going to be so
proud of me! I'll give him anything
he wants, and answer to any call!
What a damn fool! Sarah Hammer thought. At least, Karen was happy. Bill, she knew, would be happy too.
"Operator," said Abel Moses, over the telephone in his store, "long distance to Vicksburg, Kyler and Burnington Realtors." There was a short pause. "Hello, may I speak to Mr. Kyler?" Another pause followed. "I don't give a damn if he is in conference--tell him it's Abel Moses, his old friend from Cole. Thanks."
After another pause, Abel continued.
"Hi--hi, Ralph. This is your old buddy, Abel Moses. Listen, I'm gonna sell my house and store here."
"Where are you planning to go?" a skeptical Ralph Kyler asked.
"I don't know where I'm going," Abel replied. "I'll tell you more about it another time, but I'm just getting out of this town!"
"Have you thought about Vicksburg?"
"I don't know--will you shut up and let me talk?" Abel continued. "I'm just getting away from Cole, Mississippi. I want you to handle my property. Don't sell it to anybody trashy. There must be some good soul who wants to buy my place and fix it up! The store might be hopeless, but the house, after a couple of coats of paint and a few repairs, would be good as new!"
"And if I can't sell it?"
"But you can!" Abel replied. "I've seen you work miracles with other properties a lot worse off than mine. If you don't sell it, I might consider giving it to Captain Sam!"
"Whose Captain Sam?"
"Oh," Abel remorsefully replied, "just an old friend from down the street."
"Okay, okay," Ralph concluded, "I'll meet with you in a few days and see what I can do. Do you have any debt on the place?"
"No, thank God. But it's all a matter of time before it all falls down if somebody doesn't come along and fix it up. Thanks, Ralph, for anything you can do to speed this up! See ya!"
After the conversation, Abel looked the store over. Where he was going, he thought, he did not know. But after last Saturday night, it would not be anywhere near Cole!
"Yes," said Mildred Baker to Ellis, at the meat counter, "they tell me Nicholas Abraham has a wife. That scoundrel!"
"That's what they say!" Ellis, cutting meat, replied.
"How's that?" asked Janet Silverman, overhearing, "I heard she wants money from Nicholas!"
"Where did you hear that?" Mildred questioned.
"From one of my snoopy bird dogs!" Janet snapped.
At Cole High School, during the morning break, Bill Kazan and a new friend, Ruth Anson, were chatting in front of the gym. Karen Ingram, her face heavy with makeup, and wearing a new dress, walked up.
"Bill," Karen said, "have you been missing your car trunk key?"
"Yes," Bill, not really wanting to talk to Karen, replied.
"I found it last night!" Karen said.
"Where?" Bill asked.
Karen pretended to be waving to someone, and looked away.
"Where?" Bill, his voice growing angry, again asked.
"Oh," Karen teased, "it was on my bedroom floor. Of course, I can't imagine how it got there! Anyway, I got it!"
"Give it to me," Bill said, "and I'll be eternally grateful!"
"Oh," Karen said, "I see we're learning the art of sarcasm now! I don't have it here--I mean, it's at my house! I'll be home tonight if you want to come get it!"
"Well," said Ruth, "I better be leaving, Bill. If you two have business to discuss, I better be leaving."
"No!" Bill said. "Please stay!"
"Oh, Ruth," Karen said, "I hate to cramp your style, but Bill and I do have something to discuss."
"No, we--" Bill began.
"I'll see you, Ruth," Karen said. "Nice seeing you."
"Okay, damn you, Karen," Bill said, "What the hell is so important that I have to go to your house to get my trunk key?"
Karen began to cry. Bill, pretending to be indifferent, looked away.
"Want a cigarette?" Bill said.
"No," Karen replied. "Remember, we're at school. We've been in enough trouble lately--I don't want us getting suspended for smoking at school!"
"Karen," Bill said, "do you realize how scared you had my ass when you lied that you were pregnant?"
"Well," Karen said, "that didn't seem to bother you when Bobby Nace caught us in the motel room, did it!"
"Uh--" Bill mumbled, his face turning red.
"Admit it, baby," Karen said. "We're meant for each other. You're probably the most handsome guy in this town. You don't take shit from anybody! It's probably no secret to you that you weren't my first fuck, but, man, you're the best!"
"Damn," Bill said, "do you realize how trashy that sounded, Karen?"
"Oh, Bill," Karen again cried, "I made you a cake. It would look pretty funny if I brought it to school."
"I don't know if I want your damn cake!" Bill, grabbing Karen's arm, said.
"You'll have to come to my house to get that key, then," Karen said, wiping her tears.
After a silence during which the two looked deeply into each others eyes, Bill suddenly realized that Karen, despite her reputation, really did love him. In a rather vulgar way, he looked up and down her early matured body.
Karen grew excited.
"I'll be out around eight tonight," Bill said.
"You'll never regret it!" Karen said. "I'll never lie to you again. You'll never regret it!"
Later in the day, in class, Karen passed a note to Sarah Hammer, which read,
I got Bill back! He's going to be so
proud of me! I'll give him anything
he wants, and answer to any call!
What a damn fool! Sarah Hammer thought. At least, Karen was happy. Bill, she knew, would be happy too.
"Operator," said Abel Moses, over the telephone in his store, "long distance to Vicksburg, Kyler and Burnington Realtors." There was a short pause. "Hello, may I speak to Mr. Kyler?" Another pause followed. "I don't give a damn if he is in conference--tell him it's Abel Moses, his old friend from Cole. Thanks."
After another pause, Abel continued.
"Hi--hi, Ralph. This is your old buddy, Abel Moses. Listen, I'm gonna sell my house and store here."
"Where are you planning to go?" a skeptical Ralph Kyler asked.
"I don't know where I'm going," Abel replied. "I'll tell you more about it another time, but I'm just getting out of this town!"
"Have you thought about Vicksburg?"
"I don't know--will you shut up and let me talk?" Abel continued. "I'm just getting away from Cole, Mississippi. I want you to handle my property. Don't sell it to anybody trashy. There must be some good soul who wants to buy my place and fix it up! The store might be hopeless, but the house, after a couple of coats of paint and a few repairs, would be good as new!"
"And if I can't sell it?"
"But you can!" Abel replied. "I've seen you work miracles with other properties a lot worse off than mine. If you don't sell it, I might consider giving it to Captain Sam!"
"Whose Captain Sam?"
"Oh," Abel remorsefully replied, "just an old friend from down the street."
"Okay, okay," Ralph concluded, "I'll meet with you in a few days and see what I can do. Do you have any debt on the place?"
"No, thank God. But it's all a matter of time before it all falls down if somebody doesn't come along and fix it up. Thanks, Ralph, for anything you can do to speed this up! See ya!"
After the conversation, Abel looked the store over. Where he was going, he thought, he did not know. But after last Saturday night, it would not be anywhere near Cole!
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