Saturday, March 18, 2006
Angry Sky '68
In second grade, he dreamed that a hangman's noose descended from an airplane hovering above the playground at recess. The noose was made of copper wire. The other kids had been cheering, but the noise of the plane took over and everybody looked up. When the noose came down it was just in front of his face. The only sound was the engine of the plane and the increasingly loud beating of a ladle on a cafeteria table as the lunch monitor shouted "Quiet!" over and over.
The day before, there'd been an assembly in the gym. A classmate of his, David Nicholls, had won the contest for best paper written about the assassination. His own paper hadn't won, much to his own surprise, because the teacher always said his stories were good. He didn't think what he'd written was good. It was called "The Sadness of Senator Kennedy," and he hadn't heard of him until the shooting happened. The paper which the teacher picked was called "Murder," and at the assembly, David Nicholls's eyes amazed him as he read. "Murder!" David Nicholls read. His eyes were beams of blinding fury.
He'd been surprised when his mother had told him Robert Kennedy was the brother of President Kennedy. "So two brothers from the same family got shot?" he said.
He was pretty sure David Nicholls had never heard of Senator Robert Kennedy before, either, but he knew that David Nicholls was cognizant of good and bad and knew that adults could do unforgivable things. "Murder!"
"Quiet!" the cafeteria lady shouted in his dream the next night, when all the children stood still, and the flag was half-mast and a noose was lowered over his head. "Quiet! Quiet!"
When he was four, he saw a Charlie Chaplin movie at the Thalia and asked his mother, "Will that man be shot?" He always thought famous people would be shot. When he was seven, he began answering the phone at home and when he was eight he picked up the phone and the neighbor said, "Fred, tell your mother and father to put on THE TODAY SHOW. Robert Kennedy's been shot."
He loved to turn on the TV, so he put it on first and saw the moaning man whose head was moving right and left and heard someone saying "Back the cameras up, back the cameras up." He went up to his parents' room and told them Mrs. Vaivoda had called and that she said "Robert Kennedy" had just been shot.
But David Nicholls wrote the best paper.
The assembly was going to be outside, but there was rain, so it was in the gym. But the dream had all the same people where they would have been if they'd been outside. It was quiet out in the open, with the noose hanging in the air and the plane waiting in a fleecy cloud.
"Quiet!" shouted the cafeteria lady, banging her spoon. The writer of the losing paper looked up and saw the means of his own execution.
The next year an indelible "69" was chalked on the wall, which everybody always saw at recess.
The day before, there'd been an assembly in the gym. A classmate of his, David Nicholls, had won the contest for best paper written about the assassination. His own paper hadn't won, much to his own surprise, because the teacher always said his stories were good. He didn't think what he'd written was good. It was called "The Sadness of Senator Kennedy," and he hadn't heard of him until the shooting happened. The paper which the teacher picked was called "Murder," and at the assembly, David Nicholls's eyes amazed him as he read. "Murder!" David Nicholls read. His eyes were beams of blinding fury.
He'd been surprised when his mother had told him Robert Kennedy was the brother of President Kennedy. "So two brothers from the same family got shot?" he said.
He was pretty sure David Nicholls had never heard of Senator Robert Kennedy before, either, but he knew that David Nicholls was cognizant of good and bad and knew that adults could do unforgivable things. "Murder!"
"Quiet!" the cafeteria lady shouted in his dream the next night, when all the children stood still, and the flag was half-mast and a noose was lowered over his head. "Quiet! Quiet!"
When he was four, he saw a Charlie Chaplin movie at the Thalia and asked his mother, "Will that man be shot?" He always thought famous people would be shot. When he was seven, he began answering the phone at home and when he was eight he picked up the phone and the neighbor said, "Fred, tell your mother and father to put on THE TODAY SHOW. Robert Kennedy's been shot."
He loved to turn on the TV, so he put it on first and saw the moaning man whose head was moving right and left and heard someone saying "Back the cameras up, back the cameras up." He went up to his parents' room and told them Mrs. Vaivoda had called and that she said "Robert Kennedy" had just been shot.
But David Nicholls wrote the best paper.
The assembly was going to be outside, but there was rain, so it was in the gym. But the dream had all the same people where they would have been if they'd been outside. It was quiet out in the open, with the noose hanging in the air and the plane waiting in a fleecy cloud.
"Quiet!" shouted the cafeteria lady, banging her spoon. The writer of the losing paper looked up and saw the means of his own execution.
The next year an indelible "69" was chalked on the wall, which everybody always saw at recess.
# posted by Fredwemyss @ 2:40 PM 
