The sun seemed much brighter in those days as the air was crisper and the oranges sweeter, everything seemed to be new, life was full of many surprises when I was a child so many years ago.
It was on one of these bright sunny days that I really looked at him for the first time.
He always stood there hidden in the semi dark in front of Joe the Butchers entryway.
His appearance was one of a well-groomed man, his clothes clean and pressed, his hair always combed, his face always hidden by his hands or he would just keep his head bent down.
He never spoke he would just hide in the semi-dark entryway.
Everyone knew him he was a local.
However, I never ever knew where he lived.
My Daddy would greet him as we passed by but He never said a word he would just move one finger from his face and wiggle it as if to say hello.
Every once in a while he would move from his post out unto the sunlight and stand there with his head bent and people would just walk around him, and not think twice about it..
His hair was the blackest I had ever seen; under the sun it looked like a midnight blue halo embraced his scalp. His skin was so dark brown it looked almost black ;it was only those times under the sun that the deep red tone of his skin would shine out, his skin color was so beautiful under the sun.
His nickname was Blackie, that is the only name I ever heard him being called. After all this was not a time of political correctness, as nicknames would often be given for a person’s most outstanding physical feature as in this case.
The locals would take care of him and feed him, because that was how it was done during those times.
I saw him daily on my way home from school or running errands my Mom sent me to do. One afternoon as I was sent on a questa.
I had to run to Joe the Butchers little meat shop; the shop was long and narrow as you entered; the front part was owned by an old man and woman who sold fruit of many kinds.
The meat shop itself was nestled in the back
The old Woman never got up from the old orange crate she sat on, she was very obese and moving was a battle.
She wore long flowing skirts and a colorful apron and when a breeze would enter her skirts would flutter as she sat there on that crate.
I would call her Pomona after the goddess of fruit trees. Pomona and her tall so thin husband whose only job seem to be fanning away the fruit flies; both had known me from the time I was a baby, they had taken a liking to me.
They only spoke Spanish so I would often translate for them on the
occasional visit from a gringo; that would come in; whom was usually the cop on the beat.
It was just such an occasion on this day that I was sent to buy some onions. I ran all the way which was not far, the storefront always had many people standing up against the window waiting for the blue bus so often that it created congestion.People coming and going from school or getting off the street car that ran on the opposite side directly across the street from the corner bakery.
I ran into the shop and almost skid to a halt. I saw Blackie kind of looking at me.
I turned back to look and even tried to say hi, only his face was hidden from my sight.
Pomona was glad to see me; she raised her hand and summons me.
I thought, oh I need to get back home, she will have me here for hours!
She placed tortillas, spice shredded meat and a bowel of Mexican Rice into a brown paper bag with fresh cherries and a small flask of milk. She ask me to hand it to Blackie.
Si Senora. I took the bag and went to the door with my arm out stretched, bag in hand. I said here Blackie at the very same time the Streetcar bell rang!
He jumps up looked straight at me. And his eyes became full of life almost as if he was in some type of glory.
He took his left-hand and flicked at his nose as his feet took on this almost Russian type dance, so fast went his feet and his hand jabbing in air.
He would move very close to me as he jabbed then quickly move back.
That is when I thought He is not jabbing at the air but at me!
I sure thought he was going to clobber me!
I misunderstood the action I was witnessing.
He was never striking out at me it just seemed that way.
His hands moved so fast as his feet kept in step, then he would stand there with his fist balled up hiding his face all the while looking straight at me.
I was frozen in place.
I had never seen anything like this in all of my eight years of living!
He swung, jabbed then rubbed his nose and danced.
Blackie moved with the grace of an eagle in flight, right in front of Joe the Butchers Meat and Fruit shop, in the middle of the block right where people stood waiting at the bus stop.
People just walk around him as he jumped in the air and swung his fist then landed with his fist jabbing in an out short and quick one two, one two, one, three three jabs.
I just stood there with my mouth open, arm still out stretched still gripping a little brown paper bag.
When out from nowhere came a large hand the brown skin yet still taunt from youth.
That hand landed and rested on Blackie's restless right shoulder just about the same time the traffic light bell rang, Blackie stopped moving as the voice connected to that hand said Blackie go to your conner.
The life that was apparent just a few seconds ago was gone and once again Blackie stood docile and silent.
I backed away still frighten of what just took place.
I dropped the paper bag and ran home without my Mom’s onions.
I was in such a state of excitement when I got home, that my Mom made a mixture of sugar and water to calm my nerves.
I tried to tell her I was not nervous but every time I open my mouth she forced me to drink that mixture down.
Mom just kept telling me to clam down.
I tried to tell her what happened yet no words would come out,because she had a glass stuck in my mouth!
That is when my older brother James came in asking if I was alright.
He was the voice and body that was attached to that hand that rested on Blackies shoulder.
He went on to tell our Mom, what had just happened.
As my brother told of the recent events.
Our Mom shook her head as if to say to me, you silly child then quickly removed the stuck glass from my mouth and asked for her onions!
That night I asked my Daddy, who is Blackie?
My Daddy looked at me remarking in his kindly manner what little he knew about Blackie.
Daddy went on to say that he was once a boxer, who received one too many punches to the face and head, known as Punch Drunk.
That is why he acts so strange, and responds to the bells like the streetcar and traffic lights yet not all the time, there are many times that the bells do not move Blackie to react so.
What triggers him to go back in the ring is something I often wondered about.
Blackie is really no one to fear.
Blackie has been on that street for as long as I can Remember remarked my dad.
I then asked where did he come from, who takes care of him?
He is not Mexican, He is a Indian from some where near New York, He lives with his sister who married a Marine during World War Two, and of course the Marine came back home and brought his wife and Blackie too.
And My Baby we all take care of Him. Daddy went on to remind me that Blackie did things for us also.
Like the time my sister fell and cut her knee open, it was Blackie that when and got Uncle Meltie from his store to help with Sister.
Or the time Blackie found grandma's gold rosary and he kept in wrapped around his hand against his face so one of us would see it.
Well I do not want to take care of him daddy he is scary thats all I know about it!
Dad then said, one day you will.
Dad told me that Blackie is a person, he is the safest person he knows.
BUT I knew better of course.
After that day I was very careful to stay out of Blackies way.
I avoided him every chance I got.
I wanted nothing to do with this scary man who punched the air.
No not me..that’s for sure, so I stayed as far away as I could.
One thing we kids never did was make fun of him..because we had respect for our elders even punch drunk ones.
It was early December, when our community had an annual parade honoring Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.
The streets where so crowed it was a huge occasion and the main streets were all closed off.
People lined every where.. my whole family went, we just walked up the two blocks to watch the procession and floats which passed down the main street right in front of Joe the Butchers.
Balloons ,candy and Music, laughter every where ,the fresh odors of Sweet bread baking.
The vendors selling roasted pumpkin seeds and Mexican candy.
I was with my parents ,however became separated by the large crowds pulling me this way and that away.
I was pushed off the curbe and on to the street the horses where racing down the street with the riders in full gear.
I heard someone scream Niña! Niña!
More screaming Niña!
I could see the horses very clearly.
I shut my eyes tightly just waiting for me to be trampled on by these huge four legged beast!
My leg was bent in a strange position making it impossible to move, it all happened so very quickly one moment I am standing the next I am going to get "smashed" by giant horses!
Then I heard the the traffic light bell ring.
Why would I even pay attention to anything that unrelated to my near death experience by smashing?
Was the thought I had.
I still recall that so clearly as if had just happened yesterday.
All of a sudden I was lifted up ,way up in the air.
Like I was flying but I was going back and forth,in a bouncing type dance, way up in the air.
I could hear people saying in Spanish Thank You Lord !
Thank Our Holy Mother!
I still thought I was flying.
I opened my eyes and I was face to face with Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.
Well I knew I was a goner when I saw that, actually it was The Huge Statue of Her image, but I didnt know that, I thought I was dead!
My leg hurt so much, I recalled Sister Mary Helena said there was no pain when you went to heaven, but boy was she wrong!
Or..or was I in that other place then a panic rose up in me.
I cried as I floated way up in the sky.
But waite! I could hear Daddy‘s voice!
Then I looked around and I was not dead.
Oh I am floating back down to earth and its Blackie who was handing me over to Daddy.
Blackie looked into my eyes and I looked into his, he turned away then he stoped turn back to look at me and wiggled his finger, in his customary hello.
That was the day the bell rang.
The Virgin and the Punch Drunk saved my life, and I did not die and go to hell.
Or Maybe I did?
There came rushing toward me was Mama and three other ladies with their arms out stretched holding full cups of sugar water sloshing streams wet their hands as they ran toward me ..
Oh God!
Author notes
Written December 11th, 2003
What did you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Good!!!!
Great piece! (bit difficult to read against the lively background). Nice strong piece and well written.
AVG -
that was great, I was really drawn into the characters, and I loved the irony of the ending. beautiful story!
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excellent
Amazing. This piece sucked me in and whirled me away to another people in another world. You have such a powerful voice and your words are so evocative. I feel like I visited your past and met all the personages who dwell there. What a rare and wonderful gift it is to be able to carry a reader away with words typed on a page. You should consider publishing. There are some places where the grammar, or spelling need a little fixing...but nothing can hide the skill or deflect the reader from your wonderful story...particularly not a few little blemishes. Thanks so much for sharing this with me.
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WOW I liked this too. ANd Thanks for the poem my friend. Good ol Blackie....God does work in his own wonderful ways. Thanks for sharing this
Gary -
Lady I really loved this. You do write a mean story. Well done.
Rhi xo (Sarah) -
I enjoyed this. a real slice of americana, well told, descriptive, and strong voice thoughout. it has a warmth to it that is nice to feel.
you tell a story well. I always enjoy your offerings. -
This was such an interesting story- I was held captive from start to end &I must agree with Ashburn the intricrate descriptions and fine details and strength of characters were the assetts of this write. I also liked reading about another angle of culture I have never experienced and felt you moved through time & events well without missing anything or creating confusion with character directions. Overall it was warming and unique. Background picture was great but I did find it hard to read without highlighting- no biggy tho - I enjoy nostalgia and autobiographical (sp) tones in stories- well done here- CHEERS _ Lola
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I thought this was truely delightful the voice of the child strong and the image of Blackie very clear. The details which I think are so important in poems and stories were there. Instead of saying just the butchers wife adding the name Pomona really gave it wonderful detail. A true delight to read. I would maybe tighten it up here and there but all in all I thought it a powerful peice.
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