NOTE: If you haven’t been following this from the beginning, and if you want to know the full sequence of events, start with the introduction. Click on Archives on the right.
“Hank, I’ll bet this is Helga’s potato salad,” Rank Majors speaks through coated lips. “It is, Rank – but listen folks I need to talk about Albrecht Intaglio, confidentially of course. I have never seen anyone behave like that around here. This is not an official meeting I know, but we neighbors must talk.” He speaks quietly in a matter of fact tone, and pauses while twigs and leaves from an old squirrel’s nest rain down on our heads, into the food and clang on the metal pot lid. Wind sweeps dry leaves and falling twigs into the fire, which crackles as if laughing at the squirrels’ ludic leaps among the boughs above. He goes on, “I mean we can’t have another meeting with that disrespectful little brat throwing his weight around.”
Rank Majors remarks on Albrecht’s side arm, at which Diddlie yells “Albrecht must be out of his mind” and fills her mouth with venison.
“Far from it” said Lou. “He and Boyd Nightingale have seen the light.”
“What light is that?”
“Daisy, these young men, like so many others before them, think they must change the world.”
Rank Majors takes a moment to wipe his mouth with care. “This is kind of an out of the way place to start that project.”
Rank thinks Albrecht and Boyd are two lost souls. He describes Albrecht as a “Mome.” He has known them for twenty years. His own kids grew up with them in the neighborhood. He is surprised to see Albrecht walking along Wicket Street with Boyd Nightingale as he doesn’t think they have much in common.
“Yes I saw Boyd last week.” Rossetti stirs under the tea cozy at the sound of Daisy’s voice. “He was all dressed up in a business suit, with a buzz cut, brief case and sun glasses. It’s his new look.”
“I heard that Boyd was camped out in Ash’s old lot next door to Dr. Wittgenstein’s. Haven’t seen either of them around much lately.”
Mr. Ramsey looks at Daisy, offering her the diminishing plate of venison. “Diddlie, it’s the Clean Up America thing.”
“They have joined the fold and Albrecht was right. The other night, we didn’t vote on the last motion to adjourn.”
“Lou, that’s because we were all in a state of shock.” Diddlie passes the venison to Daisy who puts it down without taking any more, remarking that she loved the subtle tones of gun mettle blue even if it is on a deadly weapon. “I find guns kind of fascinating. He had it out of that strap and Velcro thing to clean and showed me how to load the chambers of the revolver.”
“We had better clean up our act.”
“For that little squirt Lou?”
“No not for him, for ourselves.”
“He’s not dangerous Lou. I’ve been talking to him ever since he got back from Idaho. We shared a taxi back from the airport after my Denver trip”
“You should have been at the meeting Daisy”
“I know. Sorry I missed it.”
Hank Dumpty throws a piece of bone across the yard.“ I don’t like being pushed around like that. It’s bad for my blood pressure, well I mean I got to tell you, I felt like disarming that kid, and … “
“I am glad you didn’t. He knows his rights, and he is shrewd. He has learned well.”
“Taught by whom Lou?” Diddlie’s question is hard to hear as another gust of wind blows the leaf out of Hank’s hair.
“I’ve been to hundreds of meetings around here. We all have known each other long enough to tell. I mean we don’t have to be so formal and all that. Everyone has always had their say. I don’t see what the problem is.”
Mr. Ramsay points out that the community meetings do need formal structure, if we are to be a community of lawful citizens. It will prevent us degenerating into a rabble.” Lou is looking at Hank Dumpty and chuckles, waving a clean rib in his hand. “Even a friendly rabble”
Hank Dumpty wants to nominate Mr. Ramsay to run against Bel and Boyd for the chairman’s position. A helicopter comes over low and loud drowning out all conversation. Rossetti grows restless in his tea cozy and I see his furry tail for a moment. More squirrel’s nest fragments fall on the table. Some fall in the salad. Three squirrels chase each other across the overhanging branches and one comes down on the bird feeder. “No way,” looking up at the squirrels. “That just plays into his trigger-happy fingers.”
Daisy raises her arms in applause, at Diddlie’s remark. “Let’s hear it for Mr. R.” then puts her hand down to stroke Rossetti who may be getting interested in the squirrels.
Lou tells Hank Dumpty he must make that proposal when the committee reconvenes.
“Look we are all friends here. It’s just an idea. Bel hasn’t been up against guns before.” He is interrupted by more squirrels’ nest fragments falling around him, in his hair, in his plate and down his back. “She has been dealing with reasonable people who listen and argue and maybe get mad once in a while, but so what. There’s no guns in it.” Hank tries to reach back and shake the bits out of his collar, but they fall down inside his shirt. He wriggles uncomfortably.
“Okay Hank, I hear that, but as you said this is not a meeting.”
Mr. Ramsey accepted another plate of venison and salad, congratulating Hank on his cuisine and his aim with a rifle.
Hank leans forward with both elbows spread out wide on the table, and his hands folded in front of him. “If it comes to guns I can play that game too. I know all about them. I have been a Republican and a gun owner all my adult life and that kid is not going to reduce the number of voters with bullets. No!”
“Oh Hank! Sweetie you are too upset.” Daisy gets up leaving Rossetti to himself, and embraces Hank, standing behind his seated bulk and spreading her long wooly arms across his back, filling her hands with his elbows and placing her head against the back of his neck. This bumps her bowler off. It blows towards the fireplace. A cloud of dead leaves surround it like a swarm of ragged insects. The wind gets under her bowler and it tumbles across the patio bouncing into the air from its brim and lands upside down against the brickwork next to the embers in the grill. Her hair blows around Hank’s head and into his face.
Mr. Ramsay shifts his weight, and smoothes his hair with both hands “There’s no knowing what it will come to. Did he threaten you Hank Dumpty?” He ignores Daisy and the distraction of the wind blowing Daisy’s hair in Hank Dumpty’s face.
“He sure did.”
“Diddlie, I don’t think it was an outright threat to kill anyone.”
“I felt threatened, Lou.” Hank Dumpty is still speaking through Daisy’s black hair and making no effort to dislodge her from his back. He blows some hair from his lips. “I wish I had disarmed that kid then and there.” Daisy remains in place mumbling Hanky oh Hanky.”
“No, no, no, your restraint was appropriate. He said the number of liberal voters would be reduced, or something like that, if he used his gun. Not that he would use it. He stated a fact, he didn’t make a threat.”
Rank drains his beer before speaking “Lou, he stated it in a clever way that made it sound like a threat without being one. How did he get so clever all of a sudden? That’s what I want to know.”
“He’s always been smart, Juanita used to remark on how clever he was when she looked after him during Donatella’s trips to Europe. He’s got two intelligent parents. He ought to be smart.” Hank Dumpty quietly asks Daisy to release him as Diddlie speaks. Forgetting her hat, she pulls some leaf fragments out of his hair and moves back next to Diddlie and Rossetti. Diddlie warns Daisy that her hat is about to blow in the fire. An Irish Wolf hound trots onto the patio, picks up the hat and runs off. Mr. Ramsay stands up and calls the dog. I can’t hear the name. The dog comes to him, sits down and exchanges deer bone for the hat. Daisy walks over and Mr. Ramsay hands her the bowler pointing out the glistening drool stretching into a sunbeam from one side. “Oh viscous drool!” exclaims Daisy, petting the dog and addressing it as if that were its name. She wipes the drool off her hat with leaves and puts the hat back on. The dog licks its bone quietly, lying on the ground by Mr. Ramsay’s feet.
