When It Rains

In so many ways, I remind myself of my father. I’m mind traveling back to my stint in Miss Nigro’s first grade class at the Horace Mann. Sometimes I really like rainy days. They induce a sense of poetic melancholy that makes me creative. This just happened to be one of those days that was so dark and gloomy you just wanted to roll over and pull the covers up over your head.

One of the reasons I felt so out of sorts on this particular morning was because everything seemed so out of whack. For one thing, when my mother woke me up to get ready for school my dad was sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee. He’s usually long gone off to work by the time I get up for school.

For another thing, my dad wasn’t his usual self. We’re talking about a guy who gets up at the crack of dawn and cheerfully sings “Beautiful Dreamer” while he’s shaving, but not today. He just sat there like a bump on a log staring down into his cup of coffee without saying a single word to anybody. This was a troubled man. You could see it in his eyes.

To add insult to injury, I was the only one going off to school this morning. Both Julie and Carl were bedridden with fevers after coming down with a terrible cold. Because of that fever Carl’s epileptic seizures were becoming more intense and more frequent. My big brother, Billy, wasn’t going off to school either. He had recently been diagnosed with Ostiomilitis. It’s a form of bone cancer that commonly strikes children.

Besides suffering with agonizing pain in his legs, Billy’s only mobility is when my mother or father lift him from his bed to sit him up in his wheelchair. To hear this otherwise happy-go-lucky strong-willed kid whimpering in pain late at night really tugs at my heartstrings.

With all of this going on nobody had any real time for me right now. Oh no, don’t worry, it didn’t hurt my feelings or anything. I could see that my mother was worn to a frazzle from running back and forth taking care of everybody. I only wished there was something I could do to help.

That’s what was going on in the back of my mind as I sat quietly at the breakfast table wolfing down my bowl of Cheerios. As I sat there listening to my mother and father talking back and forth all I could think of was “How come God doesn’t answer people’s prayers sometimes?”

From the gist of their conversation I found out that my dad’s car had conked out for good. I’m willing to bet it was the oldest car in the neighborhood. Come to think of it, it was probably the oldest car in Everett. That old jalopy only existed on borrowed time anyway.

When the pull choke linkage fell apart my dad fixed it with a length of wire coat hanger. When the rear passenger door fell off he bolted it back on. It didn’t open or close or anything, but at least it was still there. When the front passenger door handle fell apart he wired it permanently shut with another length of wire coat hanger.

Whenever the whole family had to go anywhere together we looked like the Keystone Cops piling into that old jalopy. We all had to slide in across the seats from the driver’s side. If that wasn’t bad enough, that car clunked and sputtered and farted all the way down the street. Every few days or so my dad had to crawl under and wrap another coffee can around that big hole in the muffler. Laugh if you want to, but at least we had a car.

A couple of weeks ago all of the plumbing let go in that six-family apartment house we live in down on Arlington Street. Everybody’s bathroom flooded out and rained down onto the apartments underneath. The toilets stopped flushing, the bathtubs stopped draining, and everybody’s ceilings crashed down onto the floor. It was a mess beyond your wildest imagination.

At the time, that apartment house was owned by my very own great uncle Ed, and great aunt Grace, who lived up in Wilmington. Knowing my dad’s plumbing skills, and being such a miserable skinflint with all of his money, my great uncle Ed made my dad an offer he couldn’t refuse. “You fix the plumbing and the ceilings and I’ll pay you for it.” That’s exactly what he said. I know. I was right there when he said it.

My dad spent his two-week vacation from his job at Tufts working morning, noon, and night to fix up that horrible mess. He did an admirable job if I do say so myself. It was a bit of a thrill to work along side of him on some of those projects. I was the “Hand Me” guy. I was the guy who handed over whatever it was he needed when he was sprawled out under the bathroom sink waving his hand around saying, “Hand me that open end wrench,” or “Pass me one of those washers.”

So anyway, on the night before he was to go back to work at the end of his vacation, his old jalopy gasped its last breath. He telephoned my great uncle Ed and asked if he could collect on that money he owed him because he needed a car to get to work. My great uncle Ed told him that he'd drop by sometime later this afternoon to make good on his promise. That’s where it stood as I headed towards the front door to go to school.

My mother stopped me at the front door to apologize for not spending any time with me this morning. I told her not to worry because I was gonna come up with a plan to solve all of our troubles. I can still see that sympathetic smile on her face when she said, “If anybody ever does I have no doubt that you’ll be the one to do it someday.”

That was a one of the slowest walks to school that I remember. And let me tell ya something. I had a knack for walking to school at speeds slower than the seven-year itch. There was a lot to divert my attention that day.

First, there were all of those big puddles just lying there waiting for a pair gators to come along and splash them all over the sidewalk. Besides that, who can resist dropping a fallen maple leaf into the streaming gutter to see if it’ll get past Marjorie’s house and make it all the way down to the storm drain just past Ronnie’s driveway? I know I can’t.

It didn’t get any better when I finally did get to school. Besides having forgotten my lunch, I lost my milk money along the way. When Miss Nigro asked me where my lunch was, I lied and said I ate it on my way to school. Don’t ask me why I did that.

So Miss Nigro wouldn’t push the issue when lunchtime came I pretended I wasn’t hungry because I had supposedly already eaten my lunch. “You’ll know better next time, won’t you?” she asked. I nodded in agreement. If she only knew – right?

Nothing seemed any better when I got back home. My great Uncle Ed did pop by that afternoon. For all of his hard work he gave my dad a ten-dollar bill. I kid you not. Being the gentleman that he was, my dad didn’t say a word. He just thanked him and took it.

Here we are so many hours later and my dad’s still sitting at the kitchen table with that far away look in his eyes. My mom’s still running back and forth like a chicken with her head cut off taking care of three sick kids. And my dad did look up from his cup of coffee to ask, “How did school go today?”

“It was all right. Did you find a new car yet?”

“No not yet, but don’t you worry. We’ll find something, little buddy. We always do.”

There was my lunch bag right there on the kitchen table, and man, was that thing ever calling my name. “I’m gonna eat my sandwich out on the front steps,” I told him. “Okay, little guy,” he smiled. “Just stay out of the rain. The last thing I need is another sick kid on my hands.”

Right on those front steps at 14 Arlington Street is where I sat to devour my long awaited peanut butter and jelly sandwich while watching that torrential downpour pelt the puddles. I know it doesn’t sound all that exciting on the surface, but I’m the kind of guy who can sit for hours on end to watch the test pattern. It helps me think. Getting lost in a world of my own watching the pouring rain helps me dream up ways to make a million bucks so I could take care of my family.

First I came up with the idea of fishing through everybody’s trash barrels to collect enough stuff for a huge sidewalk sale. Then I thought of sending off some of my best drawings to Hallmark Cards to see if they would buy some of them. That’s when I spotted my upstairs neighbor, old Mister McGlauphlin walking up from Ferry Street carrying a bag of groceries.

“Why the long face, Paul?”

“I didn’t know I had a long face,” I admitted. “I’m just trying to think of a way to buy my dad a new car. You got any ideas?”

“Is that why your dad didn’t go to work today, Paul? Because he needs a new car?”

“Yeah, the old clunker gave up the ghost.” I only said that because I heard my dad say it.

“You want to do me a favor and carry these groceries up to my kitchen for me?” He asked. Now there’s opportunity knocking right there. Carrying Mister McGlauphlin’s groceries up to the third floor was always good for a dime, at least. There’s no way I was gonna pass up an opportunity like that.

“Just set them down on the kitchen table,” he said. “I’ll be right up. And by the way, there’s a couple of fudgescicles in the icebox. Eat em up for me, will ya? I need to thaw that icebox out anyway.” Like you’re gonna have to twist my arm to eat a couple of fudgescicles for ya – right?

Mister McGlauphlin kept a small portable TV on his kitchen table. He’d sit and watch “The Wide World of Sports” while chowing down on all kinds of junk food. It was always a treat and half when Mister McGlauphlin invited me upstairs to watch the football games. Neighbors like Mister McGlauphlin make the world a better place.

After grabbing a fudgescicle out of his icebox, I sat down at the kitchen table to thumb through his Sears Catalogue. Seconds later he came walking into the kitchen with my dad following right behind him. “This is great,” Mister McGlauphlin said. “All us guys get to hang out together without any women to boss us around. How about grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge for me and your dad, Paul?”

“Two beers coming right up.” That’s Mable, Black Label. Carling’s Black Label Beer. That’s all Mister McGlauphlin ever drank when it came to beer. Don’t ask me why because beer all tastes the same to me. I had always hoped somebody would invent a beer that tasted like Coca Cola. That would suit my taste buds just fine.

“Okay, so what happened with the car?” He asked my dad. One question led to another and before very long my dad really opened up and poured his heart out to Mister McGlauphlin. My dad really needed a friend who would listen to his troubles and Mister McGlauphlin fit the bill to a tee.

“It just so happens that a friend of mine has a car that might interest you,” said Mister McGlauphlin. "He hasn’t driven it for months now because he bought a brand new one. It still runs as far as I know. Let me give him a call.”

“How much do you think he’ll ask for it?” My dad had a ray of hope in his eyes for the first time all day. “Oh don’t worry,” said Mister McGlauphlin. “He’ll probably just want somebody to take it off his hands."

My dad and me just sat there quietly looking back and forth at each other with our fingers crossed while listening to Mister McGlauphlin’s side of the conversation on the telephone. It went something like this.

“Hello Jim? Do you still have that old Ford out in the driveway? My good friend, Bill, needs a car. If I can come through for him it would really make me look good. It still runs doesn’t it? Oh, that’s great. Oh yeah, he can do that. When can he pick it up? Thanks Jim. We’ll see ya then.”

He hung up the phone and just grinned at my dad.

“So what did he say?” My dad couldn’t wait. Heck, neither could I.

“You didn’t kick your shoes off yet, did ya?”

“No.”

“Good,” Mister McGlauphlin said. “Because he’s driving it over here in about ten minutes. His son’s gonna follow him in the new car to drive him back home. The car’s yours.”

“How much does he want?” Man, this was like waiting for the second shoe to drop.

“It needs a back seat. May be the one from your old car will fit into it.”

“I’ll see that it does.”

“And it needs a rear view mirror. His son broke the stem right off of it. Maybe you can take the one from your old car and make that fit, too.”

“I’m sure I can,” my dad assured him. “So how much does he want?”

“Other than that, he says the car’s a beauty. There isn’t a scratch on it and it purrs like a kitten.”

“How much does he want? I don’t have much.”

“What are you talking about, Bill?” Mister McGlauphlin laughed. “You don’t have anything.”

“How much does he want?”

“He didn’t say. He’ll be here in a few minutes. Ask him yourself. Be firm and don’t act so desperate. You know how to play the game. Play your cards right and you’ll be able to pull that car out from under him for pennies on the dollar. I’m sure.”

A few minutes later we heard a car horn honking out front. I tried peeking out the window, but I couldn’t see a blasted thing. That was because it had already gotten dark and that darn maple tree was in the way, not to mention that torrential downpour still going on outside.

For the first time today my hopes soared as I followed my dad and Mister McGlauphlin down those three flights of stairs. You should have seen my dad’s eyes light up when he first saw that car. That thing was a beauty to behold, in our eyes anyway.

We were still gonna have the oldest car on the block, but for the first time in our lives we were gonna have one that wouldn’t embarrass the dickens out of us. That is, of course, if my dad could afford it. And Mister McGlauphlin was right. That thing purred like a kitten.

“So how much you asking?” My dad asked right off the bat.

“I thought we had an agreement. Mister McGlauphlin said you’d take it off my hands if I gave you the money to get a back seat and fix the mirror,” he said handing my dad a twenty-dollar bill.

“I don’t need that,” my dad said handing it back. “I’ve got a back seat and a mirror for it already.”

To this day I think my dad had to fight back a tear or two when the man put his hand on my dad’s shoulder and said, “Keep it. Take the kids out for an ice cream in their new car. I’m just glad to find a happy home for it. She’s a pretty good car. She served me well.”

It’s funny how I never noticed that the rain had stopped before this. Even the stars were out. When Stanley stepped out onto his front porch next door I couldn’t help but to yell out, “How do you like our new car?” I just had to brag. I was so happy.

The man who gave my dad the car turned to Mister McGlauphlin and said, “How'd I do?”

“You did great,” Mister McGlauphlin waved back.

“Give me a call if she gives you any trouble,” he told to my dad. “I doubt very much that she will.”

I couldn’t wait to run upstairs to tell everybody about our new car. I should have known they’d all be poking their heads out the front window by now anyway. It was at least an hour or more before my dad came upstairs. He was down there fixing the mirror and switching the back seat over. We all gathered on the couch waiting for him. My mother even got Billy up in his wheel chair for this one.

The whole atmosphere in my house had magically changed. Julie and Carl didn’t seem so sick anymore. Instead of moaning over the pain in his legs, Billy was smiling and laughing along with the rest of us. What really sticks out in my head about this moment is what my dad said when he finally did come upstairs.

My mother asked, “So how’s the new car?”

“That car is a dream come true,” he answered. “But it’s not so much the car that has taken me by storm as it is the man who gave it to me. There are people in this world who thrive on helping their fellow man. And it never seems to fail that just when you’re about to lose faith in the world, one of them comes along and spreads a little charity your way and makes life worth living all over again.” And yes, there was a tear in his eye when he said it.

From the title he signed over to my dad we found out that the man lived on Hancock Street. That’s all I can remember about that guy now. Yes, I do remember what he looked like. He looked more of the academic type than he did the blue-collar laborer. Not the kind I had envisioned to be such a humanitarian. That just goes to show ya how you can’t judge a book by its cover.

It didn't seem like very long after that incident that my brother Billy started getting stronger. He had to wear braces on his legs at first, but after a while he could walk without those as well. We never thought we'd ever see the day.

I know a lot of people are gonna snicker when I say this, but Everett had a lot of people with big hearts. Let’s face it. Everett always had a mixture of just about every kind of people imaginable. Even still, I’ve known some really quality people in my day growing up in Everett.

So why does all this make me think about how I remind myself of my dad? Well, remember when I talked about how my dad kept our old jalopy together with old coffee cans and wire coat hangers? I’ve been kind of doing the same thing with my computer. You’d be flabbergasted if you ever saw my computer.

There’s a big hole in the chassis where the on/off button used to be. That broke a long time ago so I rewired it with another momentary switch I had rolling around in my toolbox. When my space bar broke I yanked the extra "del" key off the key pad and stuck it where the space bar used to be. When the CD drive burned out I replaced it with a used one from another old broken computer I had lying around that wouldn’t boot up anymore.

My computer is so old that it runs on the old Windows Millenium operating system. That’s like banging on a clay tablet with a stone hammer in comparison to Windows XP and Vista. It also sported only 64 MB of RAM. You can just imagine how slow it crawled when working with 3D graphics.

If it wasn’t for Firefox I’d be surfing the web with Internet Explorer 5.0. To make matters worse, this old jalopy only boots up when it wants to. I usually have to slide the side panel off and jiggle all the doohickeys on the motherboard to wake it up. I know I should have bought a new one a long time ago, but I had grown so accustomed to her face. Besides, it usually does boot up after I kick it and slap it around a little bit. So why throw good money after bad – right?

Now you haven’t heard from me in a while, I know. I told you it’d be a while, I just never thought I’d be gone for so long. I’ve had a lot of loose ends to clean up so I’ve been really busy. Many of my current projects involve new things I’m compiling for our “We’re from Everett” experience.

So this is where the “When it rains it pours” theme fits into the over all scheme of things. You saw how despondent my whole family got when everybody came down sick and my father’s car died. We all go through episodes like that, and when we do it feels like the whole world is caving in on top of us – right?

Well, that’s how these past couple of weeks have been for me. Let me see. Where do I start? Oh I know, I lost a good friend because I responded to a forwarded political email. It breaks my heart to lose a friend. I tried to apologize to win that friend back even though I wasn’t the one who started the whole thing in the first place. It didn’t work. That’s politics for ya.

So wait until you hear this one. A relative of mine tried to post a derogatory comment on one of my posts because they misinterpreted something I said. So I wrote to that relative to politely and respectfully point out how they had misinterpreted what I had written. You would naturally assume they would respond in kind. Wouldn’t you? I haven’t heard a word.

Let me be honest and say that I have been called on the carpet many times because of things that I’ve written. It’s easy to go on the offensive because I’m a sitting duck. Hey, I wrote it and it’s out there so you can easily throw it back in my face.

And I’ll be honest with ya. There are times when I really deserved it. There are things that I’m sorry to have said because when I go back and read them again they sound so narrow minded. So tell me. Am I the only kid from Everett who has ever stuck his own foot in his mouth? Tell me if I am.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again. This is a two-way street here. There are comment buttons and email links so you can have your say. The only reason I monitor comments is because not a day goes by that I don’t get an automated comment filled with links to offensive material. What I will not post are derogatory comments about other people or swear words. This is a family oriented project. Let’s keep it that way.

Okay, so besides the fact that I lost two friends, when I tried to update my “Growing Up Everett” web site with some really interesting new material, I got a message from AOL. It said, “We are sorry for any inconvenience, but your web space will permanently terminate on October 31st.”

What that means is that our “Growing up Everett” web site with all of its nostalgic photographs of Everett, and media sound files, and downloadable videos, will disappear from view in just two weeks. It also means that our “Everett High School Graduating Class of 1971” web site will disappear also. You can only imagine how much work went into compiling the content, hand coding the necessary scripts, and publishing those web sites.

So now I’m scurrying all over the place trying to find a reliable web host. My free ride on AOL’s web space is over. It was good while it lasted but as they say, “All things must pass.”

Just don’t worry, okay? I’ll sort this out. All it really means is that I’m gonna have to do all that work all over again. I’ll tell you what, though. You just keep your eyes glued to this page. This page ain’t going nowhere (double negatives, I know, but I liked the way it sounds).

This is our gools. From here we link out everywhere else. When our other sites are back up and running again you’ll be the first to know about it right here.

Because of all that, I no longer have any use for AOL whatsoever. My AOL email address will remain the same. I don’t use AOL’s software to access my email anyway. I use Mozilla Thunderbird as my email client. That’s why you don’t see AOL’s cheesy ads at the bottom of my emails.

I’ve set up my email filters to discard any and all emails containing the word “forwarded.” You can keep sending them if you want to. They just won’t make it into my inbox anymore. I just don’t want to lose any more friends over something so trivial as a political point of view. That’s all I’m saying.

So it’s like I said, “When it rains it pours.” I was smack dab in the middle of building a 3D-model replica of both the Park Theatre and of the Immaculate Conception Parish Hall next door when all of a sudden my computer went “Blink!” That’s all it did. I got no warning, no blue screen of death, or anything.

Naturally, I pulled it all apart, unplugged every wire from the motherboard, and alcohol cleaned every nook and cranny in her chassis. When I put her back together again and pushed the button I got nothing. That old jalopy was dead as a doornail, never to run again. And you can only imagine how much work I never backed up.

After walking around in circles flapping my arms and lamenting over what to do next for almost an hour, my better half looked up at me and said, “Why don’t you just go out and buy a new computer?” Now why didn’t I think of that? Thank God I married an Everett girl.

So here I sit typing my brains out on my brand new computer. And all I’ve got to say about the overall experience is “WOW!” This baby is so lightning fast that I keep sticking my left foot out looking for the clutch. I’m just afraid that if I hit a dead link on a web site now that I’ll go flying over the top and out through the window. I better run down to the local Auto Shop tomorrow and get a seat belt or something before I have an accident.

It used to take me around eight or nine minutes to burn a CD. I don’t even have time to blink when I burn one now. I’m multi tasking back and forth between programs so fast that the room around me looks like a blur. They should make you get a license to drive one of these things. This is dangerous.

I just want you to know that it’s going to take some time to set up our “Growing Up Everett” and “Class of 1971” web sites all over again. It’s gonna take a lot more than just pulling the rug out from under us to ever stop the “We’re from Everett” experience from growing and expanding beyond your wildest dreams.

We’re here to stay. Get used to it. Take a look at the illustration below and you’ll see how fast we get back up and running after a major set back. That’s us in a nutshell. We’re determined. We’re in the zone. And – “We’re from Everett!”