CARROLL FINALLY GETS HIS TURKEY CHAPTER 1 CLOSE, BUT NO SEGER I got my first real kiss the same night I lost a turkey. It was early November in Hooverville, and another losing football season had ended for the Hooverville HoneyBadgers. At Hooverville High, there were really only two seasons-Football season, and the rest of the year. Sure, we had other sports and activities. But none were as important as football-surprising, considering we hadnt had a single winning season in my relatively brief lifetime. In Hooverville, one played the other sports to stay in shape for football. So it was now basketball season, and once again I was in my usual spot in the band-3rd chair trumpet, playing at halftimes of the boys and girls basketball games-and an extended set to fill time between games. Ive never really been sure why I was really even IN band. I didnt like it that much, wasnt really that good at it, and hated every second of the time I spent doing it. I never practiced-and even during first period band class I tended to sit in my chair and mimic playing. Had Mr. Evers, the band instructor, ever asked me one time to play my 3rd chair trumpet part ON MY OWN...Id have probably stood up, packed up my trumpet and just embarrassingly left the room. He knew, I knew, and everyone knew that there wasnt any point in it. I didnt need any additional embarrassment in my life. (For his part...the more heads he could count in class and put on stage or in concert, the better he looked.) The best part about 3rd chair trumpet was that even if I DID play...I only needed to know 2 or 3 notes-that was about the range of the music we were performing at the time; and luckily MY range as well. Band practice gave me ample opportunity to look around. And the love of my life was in that same band room. Well get to her down the road-because a lot of what Im about to tell you involved her. HOWEVER....there was another girl in the room that will soon be playing the important part in this chapter. For now, well refer to the Girl of My Dreams as ALF...for reasons that will become apparent. (OH....I didnt forget about the turkey or turkeys. Hang in there...Ill get to the turkey part too, as thats a very important part of the story.) Connie Gustofson was three years older than me, and played first chair clarinet in a clarinet choir of a dozen and a half. Three years older, but only two classes ahead, as shed been held back once in grade school. She wasnt stupid, shed just had one year where shed been sick a lot. And no, Connie was NOT the girl of my dreams mentioned above. Connie wasnt even the best first chair clarinet player in the band...in all honesty, she was probably First Chair A, or B, or maybe even C. But she was a junior-and that earned her certain privileges. PLUS...if Mr. Evers really needed that clarinet player that could go way down and hit that low E-flat...Connie was his honker. Connie really only had a few things going for her. ONE was shed recently received her drivers license. And another was her reputation. Connie wasnt known as a Bad girl, just naughty-or so Id heard. Thats NOT to say that Connie was ugly. She wasnt. Plain would be a good word to describe her. Non-descript would be a good hyphenated way of describing her. She was one of those people, that if you saw every day, youd recognize. But if a week or two went by...youd probably have to take a second or two to place her-most people in Hooverville would struggle to pick her out of a police lineup. Then, there was the way she dressed. Connie liked to see herself as a trendsetter. And in truth-she was, if you gave her credit for hopping on a trend that had passed everyone else by three years before. That PARTICULAR November Connie favored tight corduroy jeans, tucked in satin-like blouses, teased tinted hair...and most obvious of all....Revlons MarshmellowWhite lipstick. Its not like Connie and I really had a lot in common. We WERE in the band together, and we did go to the same church. Other than that....we co-habited on the same planet, and we were both a chromosome or two away from being squids. That was about it. BUT....sometimes when I was sitting in band Id find her staring at me. And NOT staring at me in the way that a lot of other people did. This was an interested stare. A curious stare. A stare that I couldnt help but get caught up into at times. Then shed smile...and Id cough or something to give me an excuse to look elsewhere. Connie wasnt ALF. I knew that. THAT particular girl barely knew I existed...unless I coughed really loud. THEN...everyone looked at me, and moved back a couple feet. That late November Friday night Hooverville High had a boys/girls doubleheader basketball game scheduled-meaning Clifford, Connie, me, and about 30 other non-basketball types would be playing our instruments 3 times; halftime of the girls game, between games, and at halftime of the boys game. Up until a few weeks before, we HAD been playing the National Anthem before the first game. But once Mr. Hinkleman had heard Clifford singing in music class he had persuaded the administration that Clifford should sing the Anthem. Acapella. Spotlight. The Voice of the Angels. Knute Rockne and a dash of Kate Smith all in one. If Cliffords rendition of the Anthem didnt turn your Brown Eyes Red White and Blue...then you must have been an atheist. And to be honest....it didnt do that much for me. Just one more example of the Clifford is Great, Carroll Is Destined to be a Plumber school of thinking that sometimes wafted around Hooverville. But at least his Anthem meant that I didnt have to get to the High School too early to play before the games started. By halftime of the HoneyBadgerettes game (Hooverville 18-Skunkriver 12) I was in the band room going through my sheet music for the night: Shambala, Bad Bad Leroy Brown, Woodchoppers Ball(THIS one always made my top lip hurt-the third chair trumpet part consisted of 64 bars of C Flat) Then finish things off with a rollicking version of Tiger Rag before limping our way through the school fight song (Set to the tune of On WISCONSIN...Skunkriver was the envy of the conference when it came to fight songs...theirs was somehow set to the tune of In Heaven There is No Beer....dont ask me how. But there were few sights more impressive than the entire Skunkriver Rat crowd bursting into song at the first note of THEIR song...) As I stood in the band room draining my spit valve, I noticed Connie standing in the door of the staring at me. Hi Connie, I coughed. How many minutes left until halftime? About a minute and a half. Coach Peterson just got called for a technical, so we should have a couple minutes. Oh... I grunted, hoping and figuring that this would bring the conversation to an end. Carroll...” she said, looking over her shoulders to see if anyone else was around, My clarinet reed is really dry. And I just put some gum in my mouth. Would you mind wetting it down for me? Man Connie...theres a drinking fountain just outside the door. Im not totally sure if I was more grossed out or curious. Gawd Carroll! (Connie said gawd a lot....and in such a way that it really wasnt taking the lords name in vain) Sometimes you can be such an idiot. Just put it in your mouth, and wet it down for me. Yep...she was right. I was an idiot. Because even though it went against my gut feeling, I put that reed in my mouth. And I couldnt help noticing the lipstick stain about an inch into it. Just hold it in there for a couple seconds. You really need to soak it good to get it ready. It was right about then that my stomach really started to hurt. I had visions of her telling everyone else in Band how Id actually wet her reed down for her. There...” she added after a few seconds...or hours.”Thats probably good enough. Youre welcome, I guess. I said. We better head on up to the stage and get set up. I tried to walk past her as she stood in the door, and just as I got there she put her arm across the entry to stop me. You know, after halftimes over I need to run home and get my sheet music for the songs were going to play at halftime. Why dont you ride along with me? You havent been in my car yet, have you? Well...I knew, and SHE knew that I hadnt been within 30 feet of her car. BUT...here I was...a freshman, and this held back Junior was offering to give me a ride in her car. Im stupid...I know. But stupidity doesnt necessarily equate to idiocy. Ok...” I coughed weakly. My voice had already changed a few months before...but I was hitting notes with my voice now that Id never hit before. The Halftime music for the first game ran only about 12 minutes. Not that anyone in the audience actually paid that much attention. Most either went to the bathroom, the concession stand, or out for a smoke-or a whirlwind attempt at all three. Most of the band members usually just left their instruments on their chairs when theyd finished as theyd be needing them after the second half of the girls game. Thats what I always did....but I couldnt help but notice that Connie took the time to put her clarinet away in the bathroom. Cmon. Lets go. Well have to hurry. she said. And I was about 2 steps behind, looking over both shoulders as we snuck out through the woodshop door. We stuck someones poorly made cutting board in the door to keep it open until we got back. I followed Connie to the biggest vehicle in the parking lot-it looked just slightly smaller than any of the school buses lined up outside. Ive never been much for cars...but Connie proudly told me that it was a Delta 88 Deluxe Four door. And cranberry red. A family of 8 could have lived in that car. From front to back it covered at least a couple time zones. From side-to-side, a trombone player could have sat on the passenger side, and even hitting low E wouldnt have been able to touch the steering wheel. To call it a car was disservice to real cars everywhere. THIS was a monstrosity of a vehicle. Hop in Carroll. I opened the door...and realized that Connie must have kept half her worldly possessions in that car. Except for where she sat on the drivers side, the entire front seat was covered with cassette tapes, pop cans, food wrappers, and grocery store receipts. Its ok Carroll. Just push that stuff on the floor. (A noble idea....if the floor hadnt been just as crowded...but I did my best to push as much stuff as I could onto the floor.) I put my left foot in, trying to find a clear place to put it-like somebody that walks on broken glass-and heard a dull *pop* and crunch. What was that? You must have stepped on one of my cassettes. Cmon. Its no big deal. Lets go. She started the engine, and as the engine turned over the roar of the cassette in her player screamed at the both of us. GYPSYS TRAMPS AND THIEVES by Cher. I should have got out of the car right then. Sorry about that, she said, turning it down. When Im by myself I like to jam it out really loud. Connie slapped the shifter into gear, and we tore a 30 foot long skid mark through the gravel in the school parking lot. With the size of the car, it would have been impossible for even Richard Petty to keep it from fishtailing a little bit. Whoa!” Connie said. Man, if Im that bad on gravel, I hate to think how my driving will be when winter gets here! At that particular moment, I really wasnt thinking that much about Connies driving. I was wondering just where in the hell we were going. After barreling out of the school parking lot we were heading in the opposite direction of Connies house...and out of the Hooverville city limits (such as they were). After about a half mile of driving into the November night, Connie turned off her headlights, and turned into the entry to Old County Land Fill The landfill was just outside of Hooverville a half mile, and it was also perpetually upwind of Hooverville proper. As kids, rummaging through the landfill was something to do on cool spring or fall days. It was best to avoid it if the temperature got anywhere near 50 degrees. Someone, sometime in the last couple years had shot at the Landfill sign several times with a shotgun. THUS...the sign really only said Old....LAND... and the rest was pretty much unreadable. From the vantage point we were now in, one could see 99% of Hooverville, and any other vehicle that may be approaching from several miles. Connie pulled into a nearly invisible spot under a few willow trees and shut off the car engine-but kept the tape player on as it continued to quietly play another song by Cher Id never heard before. Glimpses of moonlight shimmered through the windshield periodically as the slight breeze outside shifted the willows branches. Through those glimpses I could make out Connies face-slightly turned, her white lipstick almost glowing. Carroll. I sorta lied to you. Really? What do you mean? I didnt need to get my sheet music. I just wanted to spend a little time with you. Me? I asked. YES, you. You dummy. Who else? Why? Oh...I dont know. I just wanted to...talk. Find out a little bit more about you, Carroll. Oh...ok. I swallowed. Carroll, do you see me staring at you in band sometimes? Connie...a LOT of people stare at me. I usually think its something I did or said. Well, Connie said, moving a bit closer to me (I, at that time, could not have been any closer to the passenger side door if Id have been the lock inside it.) I stare at you because I like you Carroll. I like you too, Connie I stammered. But Ive gotta admit, I dont really know you that well. Ok, Carroll. Lets get to know each other a little better. Lets play a game. We can ask each other questions...and the other person can answer them. Well, yeah, Connie. Thats usually how that question/answer thing works. GAWD, Carroll. Has anyone ever told you how clever you are? Ummm....is that the first question in the game? Or is that a question aside from the game? Aside, Carroll. Has anyone ever told you how clever you are? NO...theyre usually too busy telling how clever Clifford is. Carroll. I dont want to talk about Clifford. Ok? Ok Connie. Tell you what Carroll. ILL start the questions. Ok? I coughed. I couldnt even form sentences in English right about then. First question Carroll.....if you had to name something, WHAT flavor would you be? What? She repeated herself...If you had to name something, what FLAVOR would you be? Man, Connie. I dont know. What flavor would you be? Without pausing, thinking or even blinking Connie answered...”Orange. Orange? Orange Carroll. Orange. For someone who takes a great deal of pride in their ability to use and manipulate words...I have to admit that right then I was at a loss. STILL am for that matter. Wow, Connie. Wow....orange...wow. SO....what flavor would you be Carroll? Sometimes its best to think and say the first thing that pops into your head. Sometimes its not. I dont know, Connie. Meat maybe? MEAT! Yeah, meat I said, struggling to justify my answer somehow. Just meat. Maybe bacon. Something salty. Thats my flavor. GAWD Carroll. Thats-bar none-the weirdest answer Ive ever heard. Thanks I struggled to get out. There was a few seconds of silence, and in that silence Connie realized that the tape in her machine was over. Carroll, do you like Bob Seger? Who? Bob SEGER. Is he the guy that created Popeye? NO...hes the singer of probably my favorite song in the world. Maybe youve heard it NIGHT MOVES. Naw...never heard of it. (At that particular pitiful moment in time, my tastes tended to lean towards Gilbert OSullivans ALONE AGAIN, NATURALLY-figuratively and metaphorically...) Here she said, sliding closer to me. Ill play it for you. Its in that stuff you shoved on the floor when you got in. Reaching across the seat and down on the floor amongst my feet, Connie began moving stuff around trying to find the tape. A couple of times her hand brushed against my feet and legs. HERE it is she finally sighed. Only to be disappointed when she found out that it was the tape Id stepped on when I got into her car. It was now hopelessly broken. Oh man, Connie. Im sorry. Gawd Carroll. This is like my lucky tape. She made a couple attempts at winding it back into its shell...as I sat there in silence. I guess its shot she said. Yeah. Guess well have to listen to something else. Too bad Carroll. NIGHT MOVES is such a great song. She slid the reminder of the tapes and miscellanea that separated us onto the floor of the car, grabbing the tape at the bottom of the pile. Thisll do. She said, as the opening notes of Foghats SLOW RIDE began to play softly through her speakers. As the song played, neither of us said anything for probably a minute. Carroll. Yeah. Have you ever kissed a girl? Its amazing how many thoughts go through your head at a question like that. And of course the words that come out of your mouth are usually the worst thing you can say. Umm....my Aunt Mildred, I guess. Connie laughed so hard that she ended up resting herself up against me. No, you dope. Not your Aunt Mildred. Have you ever kissed a girl-or woman-that DIDNT have a mustache? Aunt Mildred doesnt have a mustache! Ok...maybe a little bit of one. Just answer me she said and smiled. No Connie. No. Would you like to? In the moonlight I could see Connie gently rubbing her top and bottom lips over each other like she was making sure her lipstick was on evenly-or she was trying to warm them up like youd rub sticks together at Boy Scout camp. Yeah, I guess. Someday. How about now? And she kissed me. At first, that was about it. I wouldnt even say that I kissed her back for a little bit. I was just so startled by that initial contact that I wasnt exactly sure what was happening. It was just a soft touching of lips-hers on mine. Then she pulled back and stared directly into my eyes before coming back for another round. This time she sort of nibbled on my lower lip a bit, and ran her tongue across my upper lip. Did you like that Carroll? Whats like to not? Huh? Um, whats not to like? How about this....she moved closer, and kissed me again-and ever so slightly I could feel her mouth open and felt her tongue work its way into my mouth. Thinking Id gotten the hang of this, I immediately did the same. And we stayed that way for several seconds before she slowly pulled away. Not too bad Carroll, she said. In the moonlight I could see that she had saliva spread from ear to ear, and from just below her eyes to under her chin. But... she added, wiping her face with her coat sleeve You dont have to open your mouth so wide. She leaned into me...and we tried it again. And you know what? It wasnt half bad. Highly recommended, and it more than lived up to the hype, in fact. I wouldnt exactly say it was oranges...but whatever it was, was just about as good. I must admit, I have no conscience memory of what I did with my hands. They might never have left my pockets, as thats where I found them when I again became aware of other parts of my body besides my mouth. And that was really about it-as first kisses go, I could have done worse. Im not even sure how long we were there. Between talking, kissing, and more talking wed maybe been gone an hour. Man, Carroll. We better get back. Ive got to meet some people after the game. Im sure there was a look of disappointment on my face. It was one of those instances when I could physically FEEL that my face felt disappointed. Its Ok, Carroll. For a first time, you did great. Maybe we can do it again sometime? Tomorrow? No Carroll, she laughed. But.... sometime. While I relished the chance to practice again, I have to admit that it wasnt exactly Connie that I was thinking of at that moment. What had happened was all well and good; but Connie was not-and would never be-the girl of my dreams. I knew that. SHE knew that. I had my sights set on someone else. (Alf, remember?) And with my new wealth of experience and worldliness the time to work on the woman of my dreams was approaching. Connie drove us back to the school and dropped me off at the backdoor. She added that she was going to park the car, and that maybe shed see me inside. I took the cutting board out of the door-it was still there, thankfully-and slid up the stairs to the stage where the band plays. Or played-as we had missed the entire between games set, and we were now halfway through the first half of the boys game. And, as fate would have it, the first person I ran into was Clifford. Carroll! What the hell happened to you? Nothing Clifford. Why? Gawd, Carroll. Where should I start? WHY, Clifford? FIRST...you missed playing in the band between games. Yeah, yeah I said. Like thats any big deal. Well, Mr. Evers is pissed. He noticed you werent there. Whats he going to do, demote me to 4th chair trumpet? Good point. But you missed out. I mustered as cool a smirk as could be smirked-I didnt miss out on much. Yeah you did Carroll. Between games they drew names for three Holiday turkeys. And you were the first person they called. Now, mind you, I couldnt remember winning anything in my life. So this was looking to be a terrific day. Cool I said. Wheres it at? NOT cool, Carroll. You had to be present to win. So NOT ONLY did you NOT win the turkey, but Dad knows you werent here. And hes looking for you. In just a few words from Clifford, the day had just taken on diminished glow. Clifford and I stood there alone for a few seconds watching the basketball game from a distance. The HoneyBadgers were getting clobbered again-as the Hooverville Boys team had a tendency to do. After a few minutes of silence Clifford said Carroll, follow me into the bathroom. While I never really liked obeying my little brother, I did so anyway. When we got in the bathroom Clifford made sure no one else was around. Carroll. Look in the mirror. Before I even looked I knew it was bad. Just one of those moments of clarity. And it only got worse when I looked at myself. My face. Ear to ear-eyes to chin was covered in a white, waxy paste. It was Connies lipstick...the Marshmellowwhite. During my little lesson it had smeared everywhere. How long have I looked like this? I yelled at him. Since you came back in the door. Why didnt you tell me? Why would I? He had a point. Always looking for a chance to one-up each other. And by that point in our lives I owed him about 500. I tried rubbing it off with a paper towel, and didnt accomplish much more than smearing it around. Geezus Clifford. Its like somebody covered my face with candle wax. You know Carroll. When you first walked in, it took everything I had to not say anything. Thanks a lot. No problem Carroll. Wanna know what it looked like to me? I turned and looked at him. It looked like youd been bobbing for glazed donuts. I wanted to smack him...but that wasnt anything new. My biggest worry right then was how to explain my absence to Padre...and to figure out how to replace the turkey Id lost. The TRUTH would work with Padre-hed find great deal of pride, humor, pleasure in learning that his eldest son had been learning one of lifes great lessons and wasnt quite the geek that everyone thought he was. The turkey, however, would be another matter altogether. END OF CHAPTER 1
Posted on: Wed, 27 Nov 2013 22:37:25 +0000
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