| “You're
too old to sit around all summer and if you're not going to camp,
you'll have to get a job,” his mother told him. School was getting into
its last weeks, so he looked around town for a job. By this time, most,
if not all, of the good summer jobs had been taken. Summer was closing
in. Thumbing through the local paper, he saw an article about a chore
program in his neighborhood. The headline read: TEENS HELP OUT SENIOR
CITIZENS AS SUMMER WORK. He looked at a picture of a girl about his age
and an old woman. The caption under the picture read: “The community
pays teens $2.75 an hour to help Senior Citizens in their homes.” “Why not?” he thought to himself with a sigh. Within two days, he had been assigned to a senior citizen in his neighborhood. On a piece of paper, there was a name and address: Earl McMahon, 130 Second Street. “Well, this is my summer job”, he thought. The next day he went to Earl's home to do some work. It was a one-story house with brown aluminum siding. He walked up the back steps and approached the back door. He rang the doorbell and an old man with hair only over his ears and around the back of his head came to the door. His hair was black with a touch of gray. He was short and wore blue pants and a flannel shirt. The boy could see the dandruff on the old man's glasses when he was in the light. “You Mick?” the man asked. “Yeah,” the boy replied. “Today I think we're gonna mow the lawn. Let me get my shoes,” Earl said. “Oh, come on in.” The house had a wintergreen scent. The kitchen walls were yellow tile and had wooden cabinets. Earl went into the bedroom next to the kitchen. A pair of worn penny loafers was on the floor. Earl picked up a long shoehorn off the dresser. It was evident he had to strain to bend over in the slightest. “I can only wear loafers,” the old man said with a friendly voice. “With my back, I can't tie shoes, so I slip these shoes on with this shoehorn.” There was a certain appeal about Earl. Mick could already sense a friendly and open character. The two went outside. In the backyard there was a bird bath that was full of water. It wasn't like most people's that are empty and neglected. Mick mowed the lawn while Earl trimmed around the trees. The work went by with a certain harmony. When Mick finished the last row of uncut grass, Earl invited him in for ice cream. They talked about sports and other things while they ate their ice cream. In the middle of it, Earl got up and went into the bedroom. He came back with two wrinkled bills. He then put them on the table. "Can you come back tomorrow?” asked Earl. “Sure,” said Mick, “but you don't have to do this,” handing back the money. “Shut up or you're fired,” Earl replied in a stern but friendly manner. Pretty soon Mick was going over to Earl's daily, and he was a master at the techniques of helping run Earl's house. When they would mop the kitchen, they would move all of the furniture to one side of the room and mop the uncovered half. Then Mick would wipe off the woodwork and Earl would mop over his footprints. When they vacuumed the living room, Mick would vacuum the carpet while Earl shook out the throw rugs and swept off the furniture. There was the same harmony in every job they did together. Mick and Earl would talk like friends, not like boss and employee nor old man and boy, and it made their “business relationship” nice. The summer went by no quicker then any of the others, but before long it was almost over. Earl was planning to sell his house and needed Mick to stay on the “Chore Program”, after school started, to help him move. Mick and Earl kept the house neat and clean at all times to impress probable buyers. Even though, it was a slow process and it was already November when the house was sold. For about two months, Mick and Earl moved all of the small light stuff, little by little, to the apartment that Earl was renting. They decided to move all the heavy furniture during Mick's Christmas vacation. During the first week of his vacation, they got a little over half of the furniture moved. Earl told Mick that he didn't need to work on Christmas Eve nor Christmas Day. When Mick went back on the 26th, no one was home at Earl's house. Figuring Earl would call his house, Mick went home, but Earl did not call. The next day he went back and there was a light on in the kitchen. Mick walked up the back steps and saw a man, about 50 years old, sitting at the kitchen table. “Must have someone helping us move,” Mick thought. He rang the doorbell and the man came to the door. Mick walked in, wiped his feet off and said, “Is Earl in the living room?” The man looked at the floor and said, “Earl's dead.” The room started spinning before Mick's eyes. “Where - when - how?” went through his head, but he could hardly mumble. The man explained that the probable cause of Earl's fall on the back stairs were those loose-fitting, worn loafers. The next thing Mick knew he was standing in a funeral home in front of a casket staring at Earl. There was a sort of smile on the old man's face and it seemed as though a sparkle showed through his eyelids. For some reason Mick wasn't sad. He had gotten a job last summer. The job was a risk. Mick took that risk and he was glad. The friendship of the old man and the boy has had a lasting effect on Mick's life. He has been graced by the memories of his friendship with Earl. |
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