A Tour
Walt and I spent a leisurely morning around the house until David came to eat his lunch. We had a simple meal in the kitchen and lingered for a few moments afterward. Abby didn’t feed the whole farm for lunch. She provided breakfast only. The regular farm hands were on their own for the midday meal. Only a few of the hands lived on the farm. Most lived in town. She cooked breakfast for everyone and packed sandwiches for the ones who stayed. The ones who lived in town would go home for their dinners while the few who stayed would have dinner with the family. The meals were figured as part of the pay for the ones who lived on the farm.
Abby was headed into town to shop. Walt begged to be taken along. He hadn’t done much cooking since his heart attack, and he wanted to help. Abby agreed and the pair left. They were engrossed in talk of recipes and ingredients as they went. David took me with him while he saw to his afternoon work. Before we left, he presented me with my very own wide-brimmed hat.
I popped it on and felt ridiculous. My appearance amused David to no end but he insisted I wear the hat. “There’s no shade out there. If you don’t wear it, you’ll be a walking blister in a day or so.”
“I’ll wear it. Once upon a time I insisted you wear a modern suit to look right in Philly. It’s only fair I wear a hat to fit in on the farm.”
He was dubious that I could ever fit in. “You’re still dressed like a restaurant host.”
I looked down at my plain white shirt and black slacks. I was ready to argue but couldn’t. I looked like a waiter who found a hat at random and popped it on. We had a little laugh over my absurd appearance and left the house.
We rode out in the Suburban through seemingly endless fields of wheat and dry peas and other crops I couldn’t name. The CB radio under the dashboard muttered occasionally as the various farm crews used it to communicate. David drove us over the rutted tracks until he came to a spot with no apparent meaning. He got out and had me do the same. “Look around, Law. Look as hard and as far as you can. This is the center of my property. I own everything you can see in every direction. What do you say to that?”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m impressed.”
“Look at it! In July, the spring wheat will turn gold like new minted money. As soon as it’s ready, probably the last week of July or maybe the first of August, we’ll work ‘round the clock to harvest. The dry peas will be ready the end of this month. This is some of the best farmland in the world, and I got four thousand acres free and clear and in my own name. That’s over six square miles! Look at it!”
I looked at my friend instead of the land. I wondered what was behind his oration. He explained without being prompted. “I waited forty years to show you this place. While you’re here, I want you to see every inch. Every acre I added, every building I built, every tractor or combine or truck or trailer I bought, I thought of you. You invested in a nobody. You gave a pile of money to a lost little boy and sent him into the wilderness. Look what he built! LOOK AT IT!
“My father never had a place this big. If you took my brothers’ places and added them all up, they don’t have a place as big as me. My father threw me away like I was a cracked and rusted plow blade. I thought I was worthless. I couldn’t hold a job. I couldn’t survive in the city. You saw something in me that even I didn’t. You saw somebody worth taking a chance on. How did you know I was worth the trouble? How did you know I could do what I’ve done?
“My God, look what I’ve done! I’ve got a great, big, successful farm. I’ve got a beautiful wife who loves me. I raised ten children who all turned out better than I ever was. Every single good thing in my life started when I was at my lowest, beaten to a miserable pulp in that hospital bed. I wanted to die. You came with your worry and your five thousand dollars and look what I turned it into.” Tears streamed down his face. “Are you proud of me?”
“Yes, David; I’m as proud as I could be. You’ve done more than I could have dreamed.”
“How did you know what I could do? How do you know the things you know? Can you see the future?”
“No, I can’t. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you saw it the day you came into Mitch’s and yelled at me behind the bar. You took the wrecked metal I was made of and pounded it into something sharp. You set me to the soil and made me cut my own furrow. Look what grew from the earth I turned.”
I leaned against the fender of the truck to take some weight from my knees. I crossed my arms and then dropped them. The gratitude David had for me was overwhelming. I didn’t know how to respond to it. I barely knew where to start. I struggled because I wasn’t the same man I’d been when I met him in 1929. That man was dead and good riddance to him.
“I cannot see the future, my friend. I only know the lessons of the past. My father threw me away in 1918. I never had the chance to reconcile with him like you did with your father. I’m jealous of you for that. In 1929, I was a monster. I killed people in the war. I killed people as a cop. I wallowed in the filth and corruption of the city and its vices. I didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. I hated most of the people I knew. I hated myself most of all.
“When I saw you at Mitch’s, I thought you were an angel from heaven. You were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. You told me once that you were flattered I stayed on that first night to listen to your story. I was flattered the angel would speak to a demon. The tale you told about how you were disowned broke my heart. You broke a heart I thought was dead. You made me feel things I hadn’t felt since I knew Peter in the war.
“I couldn’t save him, but I could save you. I’ll tell you this again because you never seem to listen when I say it. The money I gave you meant nothing to me. If you would have asked, I would have surrendered every penny I had and handed over the shirt from my back. Saving you from the city was like an offering to the world as partial payment for the evil I’d done.”
I took a breath to find a fresh place to begin. “All I gave you was a start. You pounded your own metal into something sharp. You turned the earth. You built this place. This is your life and legacy. All of this is yours. I gave you a seed. You nurtured it and made it grow. If I would have kept it, it would have withered and died.”
He wiped fresh tears from his face. “You talk like you were an awful person.”
“I was. I was angry at the world that rejected me. My anger made me lash out with hatred and brutal violence. The kindness I gave you was like helping a younger version of myself. I didn’t know how to save me. I saved you instead.”
He whispered miserably. “I should have stayed. I should have tried to do something for you.”
I shook my head. “You couldn’t have saved me. I wasn’t ready yet. I had to wait for Walt. You had to come here and build your life. We both had our roles to play. You had to go. I needed to stay. It worked out. I’m not proud of all of my life, but I’m proud of some of it. You should be proud of all of yours. I’m proud of the very small role I played in the creation of this incredible place, but the pride for the work and the struggle is yours alone. Own your success, my friend. You did the work, not me.”
He leaned on the fender next to me and wiped his eyes again. “I love you. I always have and I always will. You’re like a father to me. My real father threw me into the world with nothing. You gave me what he refused to.”
“I love you, too. I’m glad I was there when you needed me.”
He elbowed me gently. “I’m kinda glad you can’t see the future.”
I chuckled at his teasing. “Me too, but why did you think I could?”
He shrugged helplessly. “You see things no one else does. You saw your way through the trouble Larry was in years ago. You saw through the trouble Charlie was in this morning. I thought you had some kind of power.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m just observant.”
“Thanks for what you did for Charlie. Thanks for what you did for Larry, too. Thanks for being someone I could look up to. I’m glad you’re my friend.”
“I’m glad you’re mine.”
He stood from the fender and wiped his eyes one more time. “We should go. I really do have work to do and there’s still so much to see.”
* * * *
I rode with David while he checked on the crews doing the spraying, and the mechanics fixing the equipment, and the carpenters working on the buildings. I learned how to judge the health of a wheat crop and how to look for bad spots in the fields. I learned about dry peas and tractors and combines and grain trucks. I saw engine driven water pumps and sluices and all kinds of projects to control and divert water. I saw far more than I could ever hope to absorb. I was astounded at the staggering breadth of four thousand acres of land.
We were driving back to the house from one of the far corners of the property when I remembered something I wanted to ask. “What did you tell Abby about me? How did we meet and where were you working and where did the money come from and all that?”
“I’m glad you brought that up. I couldn’t ever write to you about it, because she might have read my letter. I told her I got a job at a bar that was frequented by queer men. I didn’t know that when I was hired because places like that don’t advertise. You were a regular. I said that you were a policeman who took money from bootleggers. I got beat up because the decency crusaders mistook me for a queer. You felt bad for me and gave me money to leave. You were disowned like I was, but for different reasons. You gave me the money because we had that in common. It’s pretty close to the truth.”
“I’m glad you didn’t spin some wild tale. I wouldn’t have been able to remember anything crazy.”
“Larry came up with most of it when we were on the train from seeing my folks back in ‘53. He’s such a smart kid. I miss him like crazy, but I know why he had to leave. He never could have found someone to love around here.”
I thought of Larry and his partner. “Him and Stephan are great together. I never thought any son of yours would make a career in the theater, but he’s the most sought-after set designer in the city. Stephan is one of the best choreographers. They’re so different. Larry is so masculine and Stephan is a walking powder puff, but they’re so happy. We saw them just before we left Philly. They had a great honeymoon in New Hope and are looking forward to getting back to work.”
David sighed against the windshield. “I wish I could have been there for their wedding.”
“It’s a shame you couldn’t, but I understand why. Larry was disappointed because he loves you, but he understood.”
He patted the steering wheel in a contemplative gesture. “I keep asking him to come here for a visit, but he keeps making excuses. Do you think you can get him to come?”
“I don’t know. Stephan is probably worried. He gets away with being flamboyant in Philly because the city is used to people like him. Out here, he’d stick out like a feather boa at a prayer meeting.”
“Maybe me and Abby can go there this winter. I mentioned it to him when we talked about the wedding. He said he’d be happy to see us, but I get the impression he was worried about something. What do you suppose that is?”
I didn’t want to expose Larry and Stephan’s old lifestyle, but I didn’t want to hold information back from David either. I tried to chart a middle course. “Your son and his partner spent a lot of time reveling in their queerness. Larry is probably worried about what you’ll think. They’re more reserved now, but not much time has passed. If you meet their friends, you’ll hear things. He doesn’t want to shock you. Worse than that, he doesn’t want to disappoint you.”
He waved my explanation away with an impatient hand. “That’s ridiculous! I’m not a child. I understand the impulses men have.”
I snapped at him for being deliberately obtuse. “That’s not the point and you know it! Larry admires you. You’re a solid, responsible pillar of the community. Larry and Stephan are in the business of whimsey and make-believe. When they’re alone together, Larry wears pants and suspenders like you used to at Mitch’s and Stephan wears a dance belt and sheer negligee. Their townhouse is decadent. They’ve got a gigantic nude male painting on the living room wall. I’m sure Larry would love for you to visit, and Stephan would love to meet his husband’s parents, but it’s likely they both worry about what you’ll think of their lives.”
He huffed like an impatient teenager. “They shouldn’t think so little of me. I would never judge them for some art or for not going to bed in three-piece suits.”
I argued back at him. “It’s because they respect you so much that they worry about what you’ll think.”
“No matter. I’m going. I want to see my son and meet his husband. We write letters and talk on the phone, but it’s not the same.”
“Just give them plenty of notice before you visit. I’m sure they’ll want to, uh…curate their lives a little before you and Abby arrive.”
“I’m not a prude.”
“No, you’re not, but there’s a difference between knowing what one does and seeing it. Larry would hug Stephan in front of you and Abby. He might even kiss him, but he wouldn’t swap tongues and grab his ass. Their place suits them well. Most of the people they know are theater people. They revel in edgy shit. You and Abby live in a very different world. It’s right they show you the respect of restraint.”
David reluctantly agreed and let the matter rest as we pulled into the farmyard. As soon as the vehicle crunched on the gravel in the yard, Abby came out to welcome us in. David parked and whispered to me before we got out. “I forgot to tell you. I told my sons more than I ever told Abby. Remind me to explain.”
I promised I would and popped the door open.
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