EMPTY-DESK SYNDROME II: Oh, Danny Boy— It Is What It Is…

First: A Flashback from the End of Part I…

OK. One evening, right after dinner, I was sitting in my stuffed chair, reading some book or other, when I heard the phone ringing. I heard my wife picking up the phone in the next room and saying “Hello?” Then I could hear her murmuring something quietly.

Next thing I knew, she was standing next to my chair and looking down at me with a puzzled expression.

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve got a phone call,” she said tentatively, looking perplexed.

“Who is it?”

“The County Sheriff.”

“The who?! TheCounty sheriff?! Jeez... what the hell?”

I got up, walked out to the kitchen, and picked up the phone. “Hello?

“Hi. So… is this Mr. Lyford? Mr. Thomas Lyford?”

“It is. Why?”

“Tell me. Are you familiar with a Danny Brown, Mr. Lyford…?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part II

Ohmygod, yes!” That question! Coming right outta the blue like that! And from a sheriff! What the hell? What the hell had happened?! And why was I being called, for crying out loud?! Why?! What’s this all about?!”

“Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Lyford. But when I told Danny I’d call his dad, he became really adamant that he didn’t want that. Instead he gave us your name. Insisted we call you. Which struck me as a bit unusual. So, just what, if I may ask, is the nature of your relationship with Danny?”

“Jesus. He’s alive then. Was he in an accident or something? Is he hurt?

“Oh no. He’s not hurt. But again, I’m just curious here. What is it you are to him?

“Well, after he got kicked out, expelled I mean, from MHS, the district hired me to be a tutor after the fact. To placate his mom. I was his English teacher anyway, before that. And it turned out I was apparently just about the only teacher Danny didn’t want to kick in the teeth. He liked me. So I sorta took him under my wing. And I’m no counselor or anything, but… well, it was sorta like I was… almost.”

“OK. Yeah. That square’s with what Danny’s telling us.”

“But anyway. I haven’t heard from Danny for a long while. And I’ve been seriously worried. So it really jumped me when you called. He just sorta up and disappeared on me. Ran away from home, you know?”

“Oh yes, I definitely know. So anyway, here’s the thing. A few days ago, Danny escaped from the Juvenile Correctional Center over in South Portland.”

“He what?! Wait… he was… inprison??? And then you’re saying he… escaped?!”

Well, escaping from there is pretty easy to do. I mean, it’s not Rikers. Or Alcatraz.”

“Oh my God, I had no idea…”

“Of course you didn’t.”

“I mean, shit!

“Yeah. So anyway… instead of his dad, he’s asking for you.”

Me?! But what for?”

Well, I guess… you could call this his one phone call.”

Uhmmm… OK…?”

“So… if it’s at all possible, we’d like you to come down to the station.”

“What? Who, me?

“Yeah. You busy?”

“What, you mean right now?!

“Can you? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Well… whatever the heck can I do down there?”

“I don’t know. But he’s asked for you. You said you’d taken him under your wing. Maybe it’ll just give him a little comfort while we continue to interrogate him?”

“Interrogate? You’re interrogating him?”

“Much more like interviewing him. Don’t let your imagination run away with you. We’re not sweating him under a light bulb and beating him with a rubber hose. We’re just asking some questions, is all. Maybe with your presence, here it’ll make him feel a little more comfortable enough to level with us. You’ll see, when you get down here? OK?”

“Christ. OK. Be there in a few minutes.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mid-1970s Me…

I can’t tell you how weird, how kinda scary it felt to walk into a county jail under those circumstances. The place smelled pretty much like my National Guard armory, the smell of uniforms and guns and sweat, I guess. The man at the desk said, “One moment. I’ll get him.”

And the next minute I was shaking hands with the county sheriff. “Good of you to come down,” he said.

“I hardly know what to say, under the circumstances. It’s… nice to meet you?”

“Thanks. Likewise.”

“So. What now…?”

“Basically I just want you to sit in on the interview. I want you to watch him while it’s ongoing. Listen to his part of the dialogue, and then afterwards, just tell me what you think, OK?”

“I dunno. I can’t imagine how that’ll… OK. I guess.”

“So. Come on in. There’s a chair waiting for you.”

He opened the door and escorted me in. Man, that felt spooky. But Danny’s face brightened right up, the moment he saw me.

Everybody? This is Mr. Thomas Lyford. Danny’s special tutor…”

“…and friend,” I added, shooting Danny the warmest smile I could muster. “Hey, Danny!”

I got a quiet, little, twinkly-eyed “hey,” back.

There were four other men in the room plus Danny seated around a table— two uniforms and two in civilian clothes. I don’t know who the hell they were, and there were no other attempts at introductions.

“So Danny,” said the sheriff. “I was about to ask. How long you been back in town before we pulled you in?”

Danny smiled, as if happy to finally be included. I have to say, he was looking very confident for a kid just freshly incarcerated and then interrogated. “Oh… I dunno.” Then looking calculatingly at the clock on the wall for a moment. “Maybe six, seven hours, give or take?”

Hmmm,” said the sheriff, also consulting the clock. So… you weren’t in town last Saturday then?”

“Nope. Not even close.”

So, exactly where were you? Saturday last.”

Danny cocked his head just a tad, one eye closed, looking within and flipping back through the pages of that calendar we all have in our heads. “That’d be Lewiston,” he said, nodding to himself.

“And what were you doing there?

“Me, hey I got friends all over.”

“And you definitely weren’t here the day before yesterday?

“Heck no. No way.

“You’re absolutely sure about that. Right?”

“I said. Truth, I really wasn’t in no big hurry to roll back into town. And obviously, turns out I shouldn’t’ve come back here this afternoon, right?

The sheriff, smiling. “Right. So then, why did you?”

“What, come back here?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “Guess I just missed the old hometown, right?”

And I was thinking, Jesus, Danny not only seems overloaded on confidence here. I get the feeling he’s actually ENJOYING this! And I don’t get that.

The sheriff seemed a tad flustered. Throwing up his hands, he said, “Well, if you weren’t here this past week, that leaves you out of this.”

This seemed to immediately pique Danny’s interest. He leaned in, frowning, to focus on the sheriff. “Out of what?

Sheriff pushed himself back into his chair, getting himself comfortable like he was about to start telling a campfire story. “Well, to tell you the truth, a lot of copper’s been going missing all around here this week. Copper tubing. Pipes. You name it.”

Hmmm,” Danny said, appreciatively. “No shit.”

“You know anyone around these parts that would be liable to pull that sort of caper off, Danny?”

At that, Danny barked a laugh right out loud, which startled everyone, especially me. “Come off it,” he said jovially. “You and I both do! You know I could name twenty-five kids, just up to the high school alone who, pulling off a stunt like that would be right up their alley! Same as you. On top of that, I could give you half a dozen names of some dumb-ass hillbilly adults in town, who’d be even better at it.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re right about that. Yeah.”

Danny’d got the sheriff nodding and grinning. And I was beginning to look at Danny in a whole new light.

My best suggestion?” he said. “I’d check out my old man, if I was you. He ain’t no stranger at it, just sayin’.”

“OK. Will do. Want me to tell him you said Hi when I do that?”

I noted a flicker of darkness pass over Danny’s face before he put on a bigger grin and said, “Sure. He and I go way back.” Which got a little chuckle around the table. Which Danny noticed and seemed pleased by.

Sitting there and watching this gripping little drama unfold was like watching some weird docudrama on television. Because I was strictly a spectator, wasn’t a part of it at all. I mean, yeah, I was there. But what the hell was I even doing there?

“So Danny, another question. Maybe you can help me out on this. Where would anybody be likely to go, say, to try to unload a stash of copper around here? I mean, where would I go if, say, I wanted to ditch a haul like that? You see what I’m saying?”

At this, Danny frowned, jutting out his jaw like he was giving that problem some very serious thought. And that’s when it hit me. I was watching a ‘game of chess’ here. Between a couple of fairly talented opponents. And Danny obviously liked playing the game, despite the fact that he was obviously in deep shit, that he was under arrest, and that he had more than likely already lost the game. So obviously, this wasn’t his first rodeo. So there he was, playing the consultant for now. And that boggled my mind. I mean, what did I really know about my little Danny after all?

“Well, for one thing. You wouldn’t wanna try fencing it anywhere near this town. That’d be too obvious. Right? First places they’d check on. I mean, sure, there are two or three junk yards around here, but no… you’d want to drop it over in the next two or three counties, at least.”

Look at him, that little cock of the walk, I thought to myself. Loving being the center of attention. Loving sparring with the big dogs. Is he… showing off for me…?

Sheriff was nodding appreciatively, chewing on that information and even jotting it down in the little open notebook he had. And goddamn, if he wasn’t play-acting too, right along with Danny. This was more of a poker game than chess. All this back-and-forth bluffing going on around the table. But Danny? He was in his glory. Appeared to be seeing himself as running this interrogation.

I could see I’d never realized who it actually was I’d taken under my wing. Not really. How many sides of Danny were there? I was beginning to ask myself. This boy was loaded with charisma, had it to spare, and damn— didn’t he know how to use it! I was looking at a sprouting little conman in the making. Obviously a conboy already. And damn, wasn’t he just keeping his cool like you wouldn’t believe. How out-of-my-depth I was feeling. I was in awe.

In all, I watched that drama play out before me for a good forty or so minutes, and then bang, it ended. Just like that.

The door I’d entered through opened just a crack, and the guy manning the front desk poked his head in, got the sheriff’s attention with an ahem, and announced, “They’re here…”

“OK. Send’em in.”

And bang! in they came. Two of’em. Two practically seven-foot gorillas in matching white sweat suits, muscles bulged beneath the sweatshirt sleeves. So huge they instinctively ducked their heads down as they emerged from the open door. Two of’em… each of whom, one-handed, could’ve easily muckled onto Danny’s infamous high school phys. ed coach’s shirt front and pinned his dumb-ass, beer-gutted body up against the wall a foot off the ground, leaving his smelly Nikes dangling beneath him like like a pair of ballet slippers.

Their sudden appearance had instantly chilled the atmosphere. Danny’s face had paled and gone blank. I felt mine had too. I watched him shut right down and slump, like somebody’d violently yanked his plug out of the wall socket. This was like watching a TV tag-team of professional ‘wrestlers’ suddenly leaping over the ropes and landing in the ring. There would be no chess game or poker with them. There was no trace of Danny’s bravado now.

And these two guys had no interest in talking to any of us. They simply moved like a pair of gigantic spiders on our little trapped conboy. “STAND!” one of them ordered. And the back of Danny’s chair banged off the wall behind him as he lurched up out of it. I nearly collapsed out my own chair. They had him cuffed and lifted by the armpits in the blink of an eye; and then they were walking him around the table to head back for the door. And Jesus, Danny was so, so tiny now. One of them muttered a gruff, “Thank you” to the sheriff, almost as an afterthought.

And just as they began to pass through the door, I called out in a weak voice to Danny (too subdued to be heard by anybody, I’m sure), “I’m gonna come down and visit you in a week or two, Danny…”

And then he, they, were gone with the wind, leaving me feeling just awful.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sheriff surprised me moments later with, “Actually, we knew it was Danny all along, with the copper and all. We knew it before we hauled him in this afternoon.”

“Jeez. Really? How?” My heart was still racing from the adrenalin of having just witnessed what looked like a snatch-and-grab abduction of a friend, a very good and special friend whom, I was realizing, I hardly even knew apparently.

“We got one of his buddies to cop to it yesterday. And the funny thing is, their big little gang actually did try to fence the stuff at a junkyard it right here, just outside of town. Why’d you think he was laughingly advising me to look outside the county only? That boy’s really something, ain’t he.”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I see that he… really is. But… I mean I wanna tell you, he and I? Christ, we’ve gotten along so damn well.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“No, I’m serious. As his tutor… outside of school? I’m telling you that that kid was really doing his homework. I mean, we actually discussed his history assignments, him and me— you know? Because he’d actually read them. And he was totally responsible for showing up, every time, whenever he was scheduled to. Damn it all to hell, we really had a good thing going, him and me. And hell, I’ve really warmed to that kid. I like that little guy.

“Hell, I like him too. He and I go back a ways. Unfortunately. He kills me though. And like you, I’d like to see someone, like yourself, be able to turn him around. But you know what? That little bugger has already left that station. And he’s traveled too far down the track to turn around. That’s my sad opinion anyway, based on years of experience. It is what it is.”

“Sad is what I’m feeling too right now, where he’s concerned. Then too, my eyes have been opened, sitting here, as to what a little manipulator he is. He’s got such charisma, for a little twerp.”

“Yeah. Charisma’s the main required asset for a con artist. That, and being a chameleon. Danny? He can be whatever you want him to be… if it benefits him.”

“A chameleon. Yeah. He’s that, it turns out. I guess I have to face that. But… I’m having a hard time accepting that that charisma is the only thing that’s charmed me into liking him. Well, not totally anyway. I mean… I did, I swear, I discovered some goodness in that kid. I never had one single discipline problem with him. I treated him with friendliness and respect, and that’s what he gave me back in return. And jeez, all or most of the other teachers are so down on him over there at school and, sure, I can imagine all the reasons they have for feeling the way they do, too. But… he never stood a chance over there. He had ‘Failure’ rubber-stamped on his forehead long before I ever met him.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it. But unfortunately… it just is what it is.”

I try that on for size. “It is what it is.

“That’s about all you can say.”

“Tell me something. Why the hell did you want me to come down here anyway. I mean… I was no help. Just a silent spectator. Although I guess I’m glad you did. For… some reason.

“Because Danny really wanted you here. That’s why. I told you, I like the little bastard too. I guess I was impressed that somebody… anybody… had touched him in some way. But I dunno. I have to admit… I just wanted to get a look at ya.”

“Well… thank you. I am glad I came down. Again… for some reason.”

“So… you really gonna go down and visit him at the correctional center?”

“Yeah. I am. Really.”

“Well, good.”

“I mean, I never even knew he was down there. And now that I do know… well, after all this, I imagine he’s gonna be stuck down there a heck of a lot longer than even before. So… well, I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye tonight. And the way I’m feeling now? I really want that chance. To say a proper goodbye.”

“I hear you.”

“Plus, I really want a chance to just talk with him again. One more time. You know. To try to wrap my head around this whole thing. Because it’s really bugging me, all this. I need to ask him some questions. Questions about how he sees his future. What life is like down there, on the inside. But… more than that, I guess mostly I really just want him to know that someone, at least, cares. I want him to know I’ll always remember the time I had with him. As bleak as his life’s probably gonna be, I want him to have that at least, even if my telling him that is the only, single, solitary, damn positive note he ever gets over the rest of his life. I want there to be at least that.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two Weeks Later at the State Juvenile Correctional Center

(Please allow me to begin the closing here by digressing for just a moment. Back in the day, Readers’ Digest had a regular feature titled “The Most Unforgettable Person I Ever Met.” Over my lifetime, I’ve encountered more than my share of characters fitting that description, not the least of which was Danny. And that being said, welcome to one of the most unusual conversations I’ve ever had in my life!)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

JUVENILE YOUTH CENTER

So, I did it. I made the appointment, traveled the two and a half hours down to South Portland on a Saturday morning, and got the chance to meet with Danny to offer him a proper goodbye.

It had seemed pretty strange, me going down to the county sheriff’s office to see him there that time but, man, it was much more of a bizarre experience jumping through all the administrative hoops to get myself admitted deep inside that prison. And just like the two seven-foot bouncers that had come to escort Danny back here that day, it turned out practically every working man in that institution was built like Sherman Tank. It was like stepping into a Gold’s Gym. I mean me? I stood five and a half feet tall back then but, relativistically, I was feeling like some little horse-racing jockey in a paddock of Clydesdales. Until, that is, little shorter-than-me Danny was escorted over from somewhere in the facility to the table I’d been assigned.

He was surprised to see me. I mean really surprised. And glad to see someone whom he was pretty sure he’d gotten to like him. Sadly though, it hit me that he still looked as tiny as he had when he’d been forcibly removed from the county jail.

We shook hands and went through the small talk. The old howya doin’ thing. But then I got down to the brass tacks of the heart of things. I assured him that the time he and I had spent together, especially those carefree tutoring sessions over coffee and everything from breakfast to apple pie, was one of the better times in my teaching career at that point (a period which was, yeah, only a half dozen or so years, but still…), and that I’d never forget them. I told him that, yes, I realized I didn’t know him as well as I’d thought I did, but that I really liked what I’d had the opportunity to discover in him. That yeah, I was aware that that was coming across as pretty mushy, considering where we were. And throughout this part of our conversation, he’d remained pretty much subdued.

But finally… (and this is the part I’m really wanting to share with you, dear reader) came Danny’s Story:

“So anyway, I’ve got this question, Danny. Whatever happened between the time (A) you slammed my classroom door, called the coach a fat fucker, and took off running… and (B) now? What happened to you that ended up with you incarcerated here? I mean, can I even ask you that? It’s impossible for me to make sense of it, you know? But hey, just go ahead and tell me to go to hell and mind my own goddamn business, if I’m out of line. And that’ll be OK, that’ll be fine. But man, I hafta admit Im curious. Just trying to imagine how the dots connect between then and now...”

He smiled at me. And that signature twinkle in his eye had returned. “Oh, I can tell you,” he said. “But you’ll never believe me.” And it was good to see the old Danny beginning to peek through at me again, even if I probably should add ‘whoever that was…

“Oh. I won’t?

Nah.

“Can you at least try me?”

“Sure. I can do that. But like I said…

“Alright. So…? Come on. Lay it on me.”

“OK. It is what it is. But here goes. So first of all, just so you know, I ducked quick around the side of the school that day. Circled around the back of the building. Lost myself in some trees. Then made my way down to Route 2 ,and hitch-hiked my way outta town. I mean… Id just had it, ya know?”

“Yeah, I got that at the time. And believe me, I understood it.

“Long story short, I eventually ended up being charged with every single count in the books.”

I think about that. “Every SINGLE one, huh?”

“You got that right.”

Oh. OK. So… Who’d you murder?

Hah! Well, no, you got me on that one anyway.”

“Phew!”

“Everything else though! Everything from littering to kidnapping.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. Listen to you! Danny… come off it. You did not!

“Told ya you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Now wait a minute! I’m supposed to believe this… ‘littering to kidnapping’? That’s sounding like… quite the tall tale, kiddo.”

“Swear to God it’s true.”

“Jeez. And here you are, sounding proud of it!”

“Hey. It is what it is. What can I say?”

“Come on. I mean, littering to kidnapping don’t quite seem to go together, do they. That’s… quite the stretch.

Well, littering’s what started the whole damn thing!”

“OK… OK. Go on, then.”

“It was like this: a couple days after I took off, and I’m in this car toolin’ down the road with my girlfriend, OK? Next thing you know, I got the flashing blues behind me. So I put the pedal to the metal and try to lose him, OK?”

“Of course you did. Right. Great idea, Danny…”

“So for just a minute, see, I get some distance between him and me, and I go flyin’ ‘round a corner, temporarily outta his sight. So I tell my girl, ‘Quick! Throw that bag of stuff on the back seat out the window!’ But she’s a little slow on the uptake, and by the time she finally does toss it, he’s right behind us!”

Good Ol’ Danny, he’s back in story-telling mode mode, happy as a clam now.

“So OK…” I say, “that explains the littering charge. And hey. I’m sure you don’t need me telling you this, but… not the best timing on your part, was it? Not exactly the best time to litter. Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. OK. But guess what. That bag had my burglary tools in it. Little wrecking bar. Suction cup glass-cutter…”

Ohmigod! Burglary tools? You had a bag of…? Oh Danny!”

Uh huh. Like I said. It is what it is. So now we’ve got what,” him counting them out on his fingers now, “littering, speeding, resisting arrest, driving to endanger… and burglary!”

I was shocked. My God, if this was true… the trouble he was in!

And… it didn’t help that the car I was driving was uninspected. Plus unregistered….”

“Stop it! You’re making this up.”

“Hey. Ask whoever it is you hafta ask. You’ll find out.”

“So… dare I ask… about… you know… the kidnapping charge?”

He shook his head, thinking back, and sighed. “It wasn’t really a kidnapping. She was my girlfriend, for crying out loud. It was her idea to come along with me. She wanted to. And she did.

“So… where’d the kidnapping charge come from then?”

“Well, number one, her parents didn’t like her hanging around me. At all. They didn’t like me… is really what they didn’t like. Number two, getting informed by the fuzz that their daughter was in custody (along with me)? Well, that didn’t sit very well. And of course, number three… considering she was under age and all…”

WHOA! Damn it, Danny! I mean, jeez!

“Well, whattaya think, she was thirty years old or something?? I mean, look at me, bud. I’m underage too, damnit. Right?

“Well… yeah. True.”

“So number four. It was up to them, wasn’t it. Whether to press charges or not. And her being a minor and whatnot — well, they had her over a barrel, didn’t they. She had to go along with it, right? So: long story short, I guess they made her sign some papers on me, or whatever. And here I am.”

When I exhaled, that was the first I realized I’d been holding my breath. “Jesus H. Christ, Danny. You have a lawyer yet?”

He snorted. “Well, yeah, I guess you could call him that. Yeah.”

“So… then I mean, have you been given some estimation about, like, how much time you’re facing? Or anything about what you can expect at all? I probably don’t even wanna know the answer to that though, right?”

“No. Nothing specific. I’m going to be here a while, that’s for sure. But, he keeps telling me that the bright side of all this is that I’m a juvie. So it’s not gonna be forever. And if I keep my nose clean, that’s gonna help.”

“Keeping your nose clean. I’m guessing he means starting over. Now. After your just-recently-busting-out-of-this-place…”

“First of all, I really didn’t bust out of here. I just walked out. Simple as that. Just walked right out through a door. Simple as…”

UH-oh, Danny. One of your gorillas-in-charge here is heading our way, coming right up behind you. And I believe he’s signaling time’s up.”

Figured that was about to happen.

“Yeah.”

I stood, and addressed the guard with a polite thank-you. Danny took his time getting to his feet.

“Danny. Just so you know: our time together, back there in English class and those café and restaurant discussions we were having? KNOW that that was such a damn good time for me. Just what the doctor ordered. You brought a much-needed breath of fresh air into my otherwise repetitive, routine-teaching-life. And I’m never gonna forget you OR forgive that dick of a gym coach for taking that away from me. I really like you, kid. I want you to know that.”

“Same here, Mr. L.”

“So sorry, Danny.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

And the man behind him barked, “LET’S GO! TIME’S UP!

I just waited and solemnly watched until the two of them, in my mind looking like a forlorn Mutt and Jeff, passed back out of sight through a door that would take them somewhere else among the warrens of cages, or whatever was out there waiting for his return in this, his new world.

And my God, I was twenty-five years old, a quarter of a damn century old, but I was still having to learn all these unexpected and uncomfortable new-to-me truths about this world I was living in. In fact, I hadn’t totally figured out exactly what I had learned out of all that had happened.

That was gonna take time.

But at least I wasn’t quite as naive that day as I had the day before. Right?

Plus yardage.

It is what it is.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Like I’ve said before, I love comments. If you wish, feel free to leave one in the field below and click on “POST COMMENT. “I usually respond…

Leave a comment

And if you like my blog posts, consider subscribing. Just type your email into the field below and click on “SUBSCRIBE.” Subscribing only means that whenever I post a new episode, you’ll receive an email link to that new post, nothing more. And you can always unsubscribe at any time…

Thanks for reading. To return to the Main Menu (a listing of all my blog post choices) simply click on “CLICK HERE TO ACCESS THE MENU…” below…

EMPTY-DESK SYNDROME: Oh, Danny Boy

Danny occupied a seat in one of my General English classes for a while, way back in the mid-70s.

A sawed-off freshman, standing at maybe four and a half feet, bright blue eyes, a thatch of blond hair, and a crooked little nose that very likely came from somebody’s knuckle sandwich (possibly his old man’s). A scrapper, like most short boys turn out to be, defying all odds in a series of I’ll-show-you-who’s-the short-one dust-ups. A hair-trigger, instantly-ignitable fuse, turning pit bull whenever confronted by aggressive, all-powerful, male authority figures.

But that’s why he liked me so much. I was decidedly not one of the faculty nazis.

I started out as a blank slate when my first signed contract landed me on my feet in a high school English classroom. A blank slate being coached by the administrative cabal to ‘Go in there and show’em who’s boss. Make’em fear you or they’ll eat you alive. Be a General George S. Patton, and give’em hell. They are not your friends. They are them, and you are you. Keep it that way!

THE CABAL

And next thing I knew, I found myself trapped in a classroom with thirty ‘they’ll eat you alive!’ predators of all sizes and shapes, and all of’em staring at me at once! Right away I was feeling like Catch 22’s Major Major Major Major—me, desperately striving to fudge being just that All-Powerful Authority Figure… something I was finding out quickLY I wasn’t any good at. Because…

Turns out… I’m a bleedin’-heart empath.

Early on, I became horrified to realize that somehow I was finding myself beginning to (oh no) like them. Even though (and I’m swearin’ this is true on a stack of Bibles here) I was doing my best trying NOT to!

What could be wrong with me, I wondered, spinelessly letting down my defenses like that?

Before long I was becoming known as one of ‘those teachers,’ the patsy who found it nearly impossible to say no when one of’em would ask me for the bathroom pass during class, something that was harped against over and over during just about every faculty meeting I ever attended. And you know, I’ve gotta say I felt pretty damned sheepish and guilty about that. Like I was letting down not just my colleagues, but The American Way.

NO COMMENT…

(But I mean, hell, if it was me and I had to go, I’d be making a bee-line for the men’s room just like my fellow faculty would if it were them.

(But, REMEMBER, Mr. Tom… “They are them, and you are you.”)

I could barely look at myself in the men’s’ bathroom mirror. But… come on, what was I supposed to do? I mean, they were all little individuals, these kids, weren’t they. Little human beings (kind of like myself actually, what with all their questions, and fears, and joys, their flaws, their baggage, and their disarming and often hilarious senses of humor)! I mean, they all had such interesting little personalities!

Still, from early on I was feeling like the World War II stalag escapee, disguised in a stolen nazi uniform and hoping to pass for a member of the Third Reich.

So. Go ahead. Say it. I was a “teacher” who was never cut out to be a teacher. I’ve accepted that.

CALL ME ICHABOD. CRANE..

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So: Danny hated authority figures. And Danny liked me. Even liked my English class.

Well, not the English parts of it so much, necessarily, but the me part. Which was cool. I’d be telling my students stories about my childhood as topics for writing prompts, and now and then read aloud to them parts of their literature reading assignments, to give’em a head start and to tickle his interests. But where Danny was concerned, I would honestly listen to him when he had something he wanted to say (which was often), whereas the majority of the faculty, the nazi contingent? Hell, they weren’t all that interested in him enough to do that. He honestly had interesting things to say though. Plus, he had a wicked sense of humor.

So I came to like him as well. A lot of it was that Danny was the classic underdog and, damnit, I’ve always had a soft spot for underdogs. Still do. Therefore, it was an adventure for me getting to know this angry little hothead over the few months I got to spend with him, getting to begin to know what made him tick. I really felt it a privilege to get to see and know the good-hearted little side of the guy. And I’ve gotta say, when he was in my class his attitude seemed so bright and cheery.

But there was also something about that very thing which saddened me too, something I couldn’t put my finger on. I mean, there were all these red flags hinting at some occasional violence so obviously woven into his past. I mean yeah, he was getting into fist fights at school, but this felt that more than that.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But then one day he disappeared, was just flat-out gone. And after five consecutive days of recording his seat empty while taking attendance, the kids informed me, “He’s gone, and he ain’t coming back.” They were hazy about the circumstances however and, me, I was figuring despite what the kids told me, he’d more than likely just been temporarily suspended again for something.

Anyway, I decided to drop by the assistant principal’s office to find out what was what. The kids were right— the administration had indeed given him the ol’ hit-the-road-Jack, that’s-all-she-wrote boot.

Turned out our gorilla of a numb-nuts football coach…

A FACE NOT EVEN A MOTHER COULD LOVE

(sorry, I just didn’t like him and, yes, he was that very same simian from one of my previous posts, titled “Behind Closed Doors,” who’d provoked the teacher’s little mess-hall-riot with after blowing a cigarette smoke-ring into our science teacher’s face and saying, with all the humanity of Shane’s Jack Palance, “Hey, I know what. How ‘bout I stub this butt out right in that ugly kike face of yours?!”) (yeah— that guy…)

…decided to teach our little boy some proper manners (irony intended) by pinning Danny up against the gymnasium wall during a phys. ed. class and showing him, up close and personal, his big hairy iron fist.

However… unbeknownst to our self-proclaimed, staff Charles Atlas, the little soul he had chosen to manhandle was The Son of Dr. Bruce Banner— that’s right, a.k.a. The Incredible Hulk, Jr. So yes, Coach was taken a little by surprise finding out he had a rabid little Tasmanian Devil going berserk in all directions down at the other end of his arm! And according to the other kids in the gym class, Danny managed to get in quite a few good ones (BIFF! POW! THOK!), before he eventually got sat on and pinned down.

BIFF! THOK!

(Oh, what I would’ve given to have seen the look on Coaches’ face when it was HIS nose that took a punch. Go, Danny!)

But… nonetheless Danny was gone. M.I.A. And that hurt. Because it left me with that always unexpected empty-desk-syndrome that all career teachers have to contend with from time to time, often for circumstances much worse than a mere expulsion. But I missed him.

EMPTY-DESK SYNDROME

And what stung the most was knowing that his expulsion was so unnecessary. There are so many different ways to handle a potential disciplinary problem other than brute force, you know? Coach, however, didn’t think that way. No, his motto? Always out-muscle your problem (especially if they’re smaller than you) as a first resort.

Actually, it was pretty obvious that Coach and Danny had something in common: an acute need for anger management training. I suspected both of them suffered from secret feelings of being seen and judged as less than down deep inside.

But, oh well. It was what it was. What could I do about it? Nothing apparently.

A week passed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Then…

STRANGE THING #1 happened.

I was sitting at my desk after school one afternoon when the office secretary buzzed me over the intercom.

“Hey there, Mr. Lyford?

“Yeah?”

“The principal wants to see you in his office.”

Oh shit! “What…? Right now?”

“You got it.”

Uhmmm… be right there.” What started going on in my gut right then could have been the perfect inspiration for the Jaws’ theme. I mean, I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Had I?

His door was open.

“Close the door,” he said. So I did that and plopped down in the hot seat in front his desk.

“What’s up?” I asked, feeling cautious.

“Any chance you might be looking for a job, Tom?”

What the hell…? That was just me doing my little internal little double-take. But he was smiling a friendly smile.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Looking for work?”

“Not right at this moment I’m not, no.I put on a matching smile and hoped for the best, asking playfully, “Why? This where I’m about to get my pink slip so that I’d very well better start looking for a job? Or what? I mean…?”

“Oh no no no. It’s just… I’ve got this job for you, if you’re interested.”

Well, I hafta say I never saw that coming. “What’re you talking about? A job? I’ve got two jobs already. Here, and the Phillips 66 part-time. But you know that.”

“I do. But I’ve got an offer to make anyway. You don’t have to take it, of course. But I figure you might. It involves our Danny.”

Double-take #2. “Danny?!

“Yeah. His mom and a couple of counselors are feeling he got a raw deal. And they want us to do something to try to remedy that, to find a better way for the kid, to whatever extent we can.”

“You wanna know what: he did get a raw deal far as I’m concerned, considering who the other guy was in the confrontation.”

“Water under the bridge.”

“Sure, sure. He wins football games for you. I get that. So we’ll just go with water under the bridge. Yeah.”

“Tom, we’re here to discuss looking forward. Not...”

I was just sayin’. But… yeah. Sure. OK. Whatever.

“And point taken, alright? However, moving right along… turns out you seem to be just about the only teacher Danny seems to’ve been able to get along with.”

“Well, yeah. There’s this: I do treat him like he’s a human being, surprise surprise. And on top of that, I’ve never felt the need to try to ‘break’ him, like he was some wild mustang fenced up in a corral.”

“Well, that’s good.”

Plus… he’s an interesting kid. Down deep inside. He really is. And the way I see it anyway, he’s been through a lot. At home. And everywhere else.”

“I hear you.”

“See, in the weekly journals I have the kids writing, he’s honestly revealed a lot. His life hasn’t been any picnic, you know. And because I let him write about whatever he wants, whatever he needs to express, freely… and because I, you know, actually read and discuss his journal entries with him, he’s pretty much happy to be there.

“So… we getting him back, or what?”

“No. He’s not coming back. At least this year anyway. So, here it is: the powers that be have prompted me to ask you to consider being his special tutor. Outside the classroom. Outside the school.

“What? Really? Huh! Wow, I dunno. I guess I’ll hafta think about that one.”

“We need your answer right away.”

“Well, I mean… how much time is this gonna take? Like, what kind of schedule might we be looking at here?”

“That would totally be up to you.”

“What… totally?

“Totally. You’d be in charge of it. Your schedule. And here’s the rest of the details… in what I hope you’ll see as an offer you can’t refuse.”

“Alright, I guess. Lay it on me.”

“First of all, you can meet with him wherever you like. Well, any place except here. He can’t be at the school. But… you know, your place. A café, over a cup of coffee. A park bench. Whatever. Totally up to you. His mom’s OK with that.”

“Wow.”

“Secondly, you’re a professional. And your pay would be commensurate with your professional status. I can guarantee you won’t be unhappy with the financial arrangement.”

“Ah. Money. The universal carrot.”

“But here’s the frosting on the cake. When it’s all said and done, what you’d honestly be getting paid for is… and you’ll find this hard to believe, I’m guessing… I did— is to be his friend.”

Whoa. ‘Paid to be his friend, you say?’ Hold on. Did I just hear you correctly?”

“You did. And I know, right? But that’s the way the board put it to me. Verbatim.”

“Wow. That’s… really something.”

“It is.

“I mean, I’d feel kinda creepy. You know, money for friendship and everything…”

“Well see, the board really just wants this whole rat’s nest out of their hair. Get this whole thing behind them.”

“Well, that figures.”

“You would, however, be responsible for covering four generic subjects with him. History. English. Math. And Science. And we would ask, of course, that you keep tabs on his progress. You’d, you know, do your record-keeping. Work out some way, your own way, of calculating and recording a grade for each of the four… but in the end, it’ll be strictly on a pass/fail basis only.”

“Wow. Curiouser and curiouser. I’d say somebody’s really greasing the skids here. I’m feeling all like…what’s his name, Mister Phelps of Mission Impossible? Only that guy was never baited with such positive inducements to ‘accept his missions,”

“On the contrary, considering the young man we’re discussing here, I can hand you a baker’s dozen of faculty names who would beg to differ with you on that, and wouldn’t want to touch this deal with a ten-foot pole.”

“Yeah. I get that, I do. But if you, or they, could ever have seen him in my class on most days, you’d witness that little… often funny human being that I’ve come to know.”

“OK. So, can we get right down to it then? Whatta you think? You in? Or are you out?”

“Well, I think the damn kid needs a break. That’s for sure. He’s been through so much, and always getting the sharp end of the stick. And I mean, honestly? I’ve been pissed off, if you want to know the truth, about the whole way he was just tossed aside. Well, that’s the way it seems to me anyway. But more than that, this whole fiasco has left me feeling… I gotta say, sad.

“So… you in?

“So… this does sound like kind of an adventure. Sounds like something I ought to do.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“Well…I could be wrong.”

Yeah?

“But… I guess that’s a ‘yes,’ apparently.”

And so it was.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Despite the uncomfortable, guilty weirdness of being paid for ‘being somebody’s friend’ (I mean, never in a million years could I have been led to believe that such an arrangement might even be an allowable possibility under any circumstances), that change in my job description immediately swept away that dark heaviness of my ‘Danny’s empty desk syndrome.’ More than that, it brought the proverbial ‘ray of sunshine’ into my routine life.

I mean, try to imagine this. On a Monday after school, say, you pick the kid up and swing over to Freddy’s Restaurant… and there, along with the coffee and apple pie on the table, you’ve got your pair of history books cracked open. And you’re both into it, the assignment I mean. Or on a Saturday morning, over at the Chicken Coop perhaps, the coffee and breakfast (which is on you, of course since, with what you’re unnecessarily being paid for friendship, you can afford it) are providing the backdrop for you and him to discuss his latest journal pages.

And always, on the opposite side of booth you have a student who is both (A) delighted to be rid of the school he just was never fitting in with, (B) honestly happy to see, and be, with you, and (C) on top of that, has honestly read or written his assignment and is ready to talk about it.

And then who knows, maybe even on a Sunday the two of you might walk the sidewalks a mile or two of all over town, talking about Life and where it’s taking you… him telling you stories about his life and you telling him stories about yours.

Considering that all during my career, to that point, I’d been off and on somewhat successfully juggling classes of between twenty and thirty kids at once, this one-on-one thing was such a luxury.

He seemed to be loving my English assignments by the way (mostly because he liked me); really liking the history stuff (we were reading Howard Fast’s gripping historical novel, April Morning, about the battles of Concord and Lexington); wasn’t caring much for general science; and really wasn’t feeling any love whatsoever for math (a kid after my own heart, there). So, science and math were, yeah, more of a challenge for us.

But on the whole, this arrangement was great for him, I was sure of that, and good for me as well. Looking back on the set-up we had, the expression ‘happy days springs to mind.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After about three weeks or so of the arrangement running like a well-oiled machine, the weather had started turning colder. And the only sweatshirt Danny had was still hanging in his locker back at school, along with a few other things he wanted to retrieve. So, on a Friday, about an hour or so after the final bell of the day had released all or most of the kids back into the world, he and I pulled up in the school parking lot. We got out of the car and slipped into the building through a side door.

He worked the combination on his locked locker, popped the door open, and gathered up his stuff. My classroom was only a few doors down, and so we also dropped in there for me to grab some things as well.

That done, and with me fishing my classroom key back out of my pocket, we had just started to step back out into the hallway when some deep, thunderous voice bellowed, “God damn it! Just what the hell you think you’re doing in here!

And there he was! The neanderthal that had really started this whole fiasco in the first place! Marching double-time and charging straight for us!

Get you sorry ass outta here before I…

Hey!” I yelled, stepping in front of Danny, who was half in and half out of my classroom. “Stop right there, Coach! He’s with me!

Well he’s gonna be with ME in a second! So get outta my way!

No! I said stop! He’s legit! And we’re just leaving anyway!

Damn straight you’re leavin!”

Coach and I, scrawny little English teacher me, were now standing nose-to-nose in a near Mexican stand-off!

THE ALPHA SIMIAN WAR FACE

He’s not supposed to be here anyway, damnit! He’s expelled!

Think I don’t know that!? Look! We’re just getting some things from his locker! He’s not bothering you!

Oh, he’s bothering me! You just better believe he’s bothering me!

My mouth’s open, ready to yell a response, but a bellow from behind me cuts me off!

You want me to LEAVE, you fat fucker?! OK then! I’m leavin’!

And before either of us can manage to say anything to that… B A N G! ..what sounds like an echoing gunshot jumps me, and I’m pretty sure jumps the fat fucker in front of me as well, half out of our shoes! Then I’m suddenly aware that Danny’s sprinting for the door we came in through, and that the loud bang that jarred my teeth was actually my classroom door having been whipped shut at Mach 5!

DANNY!I yell.

“Let’im go, the little asshole. What the hell’re are you even doing with him anyway?

Apparently, and unfortunately, Coach hadn’t gotten the memo about Danny’s and my arrangement. Why, I’ll never know.

ME? How about what the hell’re YOU doing here at all, masquerading as a teacher?! DANNY!” I yelled, taking after him.

But he’d already zipped out of sight through the exit! And by the time I stumbled outside, he’d disappeared! He was nowhere to be seen!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Turned out I hadn’t fully grasped just how disappeared he’d actually become.

Turned out he’d run away from home.

Turned out this wasn’t the first time he’d run away from home either…

I was devastated.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple months crawled by.

And so, out of sight, out of mind, the loss of M.I.A. Danny was gradually fading with acceptance.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

OK. One evening, right after dinner, I was sitting in my stuffed chair, reading some book or other, when I heard the phone ringing. I heard my wife picking up the phone in the next room and saying “Hello?” Then I could hear her murmuring something quietly.

Next thing I knew, she was standing next to my chair and looking down at me with a puzzled expression.

“What?” I asked.

“You’ve got a phone call,” she said tentatively, looking perplexed.

“Who is it?”

“The County Sheriff.”

“The who?! The… County sheriff?! Jeez... what the hell?”

THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW

I got up, walked out to the kitchen, and took the phone. “Hello?

“Hi. So… is this Mr. Lyford? Mr. Thomas Lyford?”

“It is. Why?”

“Tell me. Are you familiar with a Danny Brown, Mr. Lyford…?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

End of Part I. Stay tuned for Part II.

I love comments. If you wish, feel free to leave one in the field below and click on “POST COMMENT. “I usually respond…

Leave a comment

And if you like my blog posts, consider subscribing. And if so, just type your email into the field below and click on “SUBSCRIBE.” Subscribing only means that whenever I post a new episode, you’ll receive an email link to that new post, nothing more. And you can always unsubscribe at any time…

Thanks for reading. To return to the Main Menu (a listing of all my blog post choices) simply click on “BACK TO MENU” below…