Lovely Summer Smoke Deluged by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Chapter 14

Unsurprisingly, number one was a debatable, yet manageable issue.

“Dylan.”

“Beatles.”

“Dylan!”

“Beatles!”

“You can be so bourgeois, sometimes.”

“If somebody else sang his songs, I would probably agree with you.”

“Hendrix.”

“Joplin.”

Kale and Posie were having their first major spat and were absolutely infuriated with each other. Actually, this was not the first time that they had registered their preferences in contemporary pop music, but it was the first time that they noticed that their differences were irreconcilable. To complicate matters, at various times, each was on both sides of the issue. Either mood swings dictated the bottom line first choice or they merely idolized both, and in so doing, if limited to choosing one, some sense of fairness to the other resulted in them switching sides. It is also possible that the argument had nothing to do with music at all. They may have realized that

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after being together for some time that it was unbelievably preposterous that they had never had any argument worth mentioning, and in an effort to exhibit some kind of “normality”

they fussed over music.

Number two was not without strong opinions.

“Stones.”

“Doors.”

“Dreamer.”

“Commercial.”

Numbers three, four, five, six and the rest opened a myriad of avenues.

“Donovan.”

“Buffalo Springfield.”

“Donovan!”

“Buffalo Springfield!”

“Patriotic space cowboy (cowgirl).”

“Brit lover.”

“The Byrds.”

“Van Morrison.”

“Thffft.”

“Thffft.”

It’s also possible that they subconsciously found this argumentative mode of behavior the most effective in fending off undesired advances, as no one else was very interested in

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getting involved in what they considered judgmental, irrelevant inanities.

They thought that it had all the significance in the world.

Sometimes.

“Santana.”

“Cream!”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

“Grateful Dead.”

“Velvet Underground.”

“Fashionable decadence.”

“Unemployed blue collar stoned.”

“Jefferson Airplane.”

“Moody Blues.”

“Sly.”

“Smokey.”

“Laura Nyro.”

“Joni Mitchell.”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“Blue Oyster Cult.”

“The Who.”

“Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.”

“Elvis.”

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A grimacing face responded; “Isn’t he dead or something like that?”

On this day the argument became somewhat redundant at this point. They sat at opposite sides of the mattress and glowered, before breaking into laughter and starting all over again from the opposite position. It was eminently fair to do so. After circling around a second time, one said; “David Bowie.”

The other quickly responded with; “Hot tramp, love you so,”

and they proceeded to get off (the subject?) It was fortunate that their contemplations were held in the 1960’s, as if it were in later years saying; “Patti Smith” would have ended the foreplay. A rule would then have to be instituted. No one would be allowed to say “Patti Smith” until both parties were ready for wordless communication. Of course no one could stop them from thinking “Patti Smith.”

After drowsing, Posie got up and went to the open window.

She saw that the noise which had roused her was being generated by “Mellow Yellow’s” attack of the orchid garden. The tall, thin gardener held a long handled lopper and was muttering something about “barbs” as he flailed away at the pink flowers. The mysterious tall and thin man knew no appointments or schedules and arrived when not expected, insisting on payment only in cash.

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Hi and Bee Collinaire found the arrangement, or lack thereof, suitable as Mellow worked hard when there and came often enough to keep the grounds attractive. No one knew his real name and no one felt secure in asking him anything other than matters related to his work. They were not sure if his dark skin was his heritage or merely the result of long hours in the sun. As another practical matter, it was difficult to get outside help in Washington Township (AKA Long Valley), as the upper income community housed no gardeners. Consequently they had to be imported from elsewhere if they were willing to come at all. Ones who did deign to come often made disparaging remarks about the valley’s beauty, which homeowner’s dismissed as obvious jealousy, though some annoying observations penetrated. To his credit, Mellow rarely spoke.

But, today he did, if only to himself, and Posie did not at all like it and more importantly she did not like what he was doing to the orchids. It was as if one used a chainsaw to cut a writing pad, or at least that was how it appeared to her from her elevated viewpoint. She woke Kale and got an agreeing second opinion.

Kale called from the window; “Hey, lighten up on that.”

Mellow glanced upward no more than a fraction of a second, said; “You ain’t my boss,” and went back to his butchery.

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Posie said to Kale; “Let’s go get Dad,” and scurried ahead of him into the library where Dad sat reading Hemingway’s “The Old Man and the Sea.” She was surprised at the selection, but had matters of more urgency than literary commentary.

When he looked up, Posie said; “Mellow is ruining the orchids. You’ve got to stop him.”

Hi removed his reading glasses and placed the book on the floor. He offhandedly said; “I didn’t even know he was here.”

Posie and Kale silently avoided redundancy.

Hi rose and said; “Well, let’s go take a look.”

He led the duo out the back door and saw Mellow thrashing away at the trembling flower bed. He called out; “Good afternoon, Mellow.”

Mellow stood and seemed nervously disconcerted as he choked out; “Guh-good af-t-ternoon, Mr. Collinaire,” dropping his loppers.

Hi said; “If you don’t mind, we have some locust trees that desperately need pruning.”

Mellow said; “Would you like me to finish the orchids first?”

Hi said; “Oh, no, no, no. I’m satisfied the way they are.

Bring the loppers and let me show you the locusts.”

Hi confidently walked fifty feet with Mellow right behind and the kids ambling way back. Posie and Kale eyed each other

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inquisitively. Hi showed the gardener the trees and Mellow said;

“You want I should shape them up?”

Hi said; “No, just remove the dead branches.”

Mellow said; “Where should I put them?”

Hi said; “Haul them out of here.”

Mellow said; “Okay,” and commenced lopping.

Hi started to walk away, stopped and said; “Oh, Mellow. If you finish that and need more to do, come see me. There are some other things that I want done other than the orchids.”

Mellow said; “Yes, sir,” which was the first time Hi heard him use the phrase.

Hi said; “Good man,” and left with two startled children in tow. He could see that they were somewhat puzzled and said;

“Being argumentative or accusatory brings more arguments and accusations. If you treat people with respect they usually respond in kind.”

Posie and Kale were impressed as they could easily see that the orchid damage was curtailed and that no ill feelings were kindled.

Kale said; “I still have a lot to learn.”

Hi grabbed the back of Kale’s neck firmly, but playfully and added; “And many years in which to do it.”

Hi returned to his reading, while Kale and Posie meandered outside.

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Posie said; “Did you see the bulge in Mellow’s pants?”

“No. That’s so vulgar. You say things about my attraction to Marian. At least she’s not a dirty gardener.”

“You’re such a slow learner.”

“I wouldn’t have said that if Mellow could hear us.”

“I have the utmost respect and I’m getting hot as hell.”

“You are extremely vulgar ....... and I love it.”

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