Mercy! Mercy! That Dang Nabed PERCY!

Joe

Joe

Here in Wisconsin, I live way out in the country in one of the poorest Townships in the State. I live on the homestead (ten acres) that my great grandfather settled on at the turn of the century. We are surrounded by bluffs, big argo-growers and a lot of families that struggle to make it through the month. Yet sprinkled around are some middle class families, mostly retirees, who feel a civic responsibility to support the Democratic Process. We have about two-hundred, fifty registered voters and unless it is a presidential election we are lucky to see one hundred show up. Still we have to have a chief Inspector and two workers sitting in the town hall (An old one room school house) for when a voter decides to drop by. We have a voting machine however the electors are also allowed to use a paper ballot. I am a Chief Inspector, not as a consequence of my vast knowledge but rather because the ladies want a man around in case some crazy shows up, half in the bag and starts getting rowdy. The idea is that while I’m getting my ass kicked one of them will call the sheriff who is only about twenty minutes away. Anyway there is plenty of time in most elections to sit around and chew the fat and it is amazing some of the things we talk about. Yesterday I wrote a blog that got some interest and made me think about some of the conversations I have had with these ladies.

First off, when I told them I belonged to an online writing community and taught drama, they wanted to know all about it. “Not much to say,” I told them….You pay your dues, write stuff and put it in your electronic portfolio under your pen writing name. “What’s yours?“ they wanted to know. “Percy Goodfellow,“ I answered. Now for some reason they thought this was funny and when I asked what prompted the outburst of mirth, they replied…. It sounds so gay. Couldn’t you come up with something better like, Thor Armstrong?

No,” I explained, Lord Percy was a famous character in Baroness Ortzy’s series, The Scarlet Pimpernel and he was a hero of mine growing up… I see, they replied giggling at one another.

Now I must look gay, and yes I have cousins who are gay and I guess there is a gay gene floating about in the family, and I have been mistaken for gay in my career in the military, (not cool) however, I have been married for over thirty-five years to a woman who is very affectionate and I am sure she will vouch where it counts. Anyway we sit around and talking about all manner of things waiting for a voter to show up.

One poll worker, I’ll call her Carol, related the following story.

When I was in grammar school there was a boy, Joe, the teacher made sit next to me because he tended to be disruptive. He was always trying to copy my work and sometimes I caught him staring at me. He wasn’t very attractive and had some dental issues.

Now it was plain as I watched Carol relate her story that she had once been a knock-out… She is still willowy and very attractive, and she must have always known it and while she keeps a lid on her vanity there was no doubting that she takes her looks for granted. She is also very principled, dotting her “I”s and crossing her “T”s. She is very prim and proper, no doubt she was always the smartest student in the class, a veritable “Susie Spotless, Elvira Everything and probably always the Teacher’s pet. She became a middle school teacher.

Continuing with her story she said, Anyway one day when the bell rang for recess, I stood up and Joe leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, in front of everybody. Well you can imagine how shocked I was. I slapped him across the face and went into a tirade in the classroom that continued out onto the playground. He was very humiliated and it made me so mad that for several days afterwards I kept reminding him that such behavior was not acceptable. As I scolded he would wince, shuffled his feet and look at the ground in embarassment.

As time passed I reflected on my response and gradually came to realize that I had over-reacted. After all he was a boy and I have always attracted the sentiments of the men around me. As the years passed the memory began to wear and abrade. At the most unexpected of times my recollection would flash back and I’d cringe at how I treated this poor guy who had understandably, lost a grip on his feelings. Imagine sitting next to me day after day and harboring a deep and requited love. So finally there came a twenty year reunion and I saw his name on the list. I resolved to apologize and set my mind finally to rest.

When I arrived that evening I looked around and he was nowhere to be seen. I asked several of my friends and they didn’t know either. Finally I asked Lucy who had arranged the whole thing. “Where is Joe?” Oh him, she answered, he moved out of state after graduating and when I wrote he said he was coming. Then just this morning I got a letter from his wife. He died last week from a massive heart attack.