Monte Guaro

MONTE GUARO

"What does this crater really need?"

I sat there, gazing out over acres of sod lovingly preserved in swaths outside the swimming pool at Carney Park. I had long ago gotten used to the hassles. Being a person who lives in Naples (and if you're Italian, a proud Napolitano, the hassles make up life -- more of a mindset than a problem) I had learned to live with things.

My assistant chased a winged insect. Not even an interesting one. How he ever got into the Navy with an IQ like that, I would never know. Don't give me wrong. He was not a simple person. Quite the opposite. I watched him chasing that insect while ignoring the moths and butterflies pollinating the summertime flowers interspersed in the grass, paying them not the least amount of attention, because they weren't the interesting part of the day. 

He answered me. "Maybe better paint?" You could never tell when the guy was listening. I suspected it was part of his secret plot to take over the planet, as all the people around him let their guard down and he collected information. Well… information, and bugs.

Possibly, my problem was my history. This was my third tour of duty in the Naples area. As an enlisted guy, I remembered years when the park was the main place to be. Bars. Noise. Comeraderie. A safe spot where being American was easy in Italy. The main Navy base was just across the road. Well, at least, one crater away. Then, as the American population, not only moved farther away, but got smaller. I came back as a major. I had a family, so the spacious baseball fields were right in line with the growing sons and my wife's love of the outdoors. I also, much to the chagrin of the rest of my family, came down with the illness of my "over the top" case of golf. Funny clothing. More sets of clubs than I felt like counting at the moment…

I stood inside the chain-link fencing at the pool, and looked toward the golf course. 

Lieutenant what's-his-name had finally captured his insect. He returned to my side with a roomy sample container bulging in one pocket. 

He stood irritatingly at attention. I had to admit his uniform was spotless, and I had given him my usual gesture. It was the come here sign that negated the "at ease, sailor" command which led to bug hunting.

The notebook dangled from my fingers. 

That smug look was never going to come off. You could cuss at him. You could praise him. Lieutenant what's–his–name had the perfect attention face. I guess, my only protest was insisting I would never read his name tape, even though it was under my nose every day of my life. At the moment, because of our ingrained relationship, I had to act like the admiral again. Not the tired man facing down retirement with a mixture of relief and dread.

"Right." I said crisply, "We'll talk about the numbers with the park Director now."

I still had the same retention as my assistant. (Just not the same passion. You trade that in on a good portion of apathy as the years wear you down.) I already knew the numbers, and they were never going to change. Talking to the director of the park would do nothing but kill time as I made my decision. I was still looking for that secret ingredient. The way to revitalize an American style park knowing that population numbers would never justify it.

The park director had a neatly trimmed beard. You expected that in a civilian. The peace of Carney Park had gradually seeped into his bones. He was a person roughly in thirds somewhere between the uptight American, the Italian with the leather shoes and the wine glass in his hands, or the Napolitano, built of nothing but spite and subterfuge. I imagined the Director as a Venn diagram. 

"What do you think this Park really needs?" I asked him, so the man would start talking.

Steve launched into his long list. A rambling one… What do you expect from a civilian, anyway? Staffing. Moles. Italians. Water rights. Sports schedules. Events. Facilities. Improvements to parking lots. Paint.

It didn't change the numbers. Fewer sailors. Further away. Families that accompanied them needing sport facilities, and transportation to them. Having a kid walk to a practice, made a lot more sense than putting them on a bus to the crater of a volcano that was no longer commute convenient.

Whether or not Steve knew that I had to decide about renewing this contract for Carney Park, or committing to ballfield areas closer to the kids, he could see my eyes were glazing over with his multitude of details, probably. His approach softened.

"I do have to talk to one of the crews this morning. They are working on preserving a tree as they put in a sewer line. I'd like you to come with me, if you will." He added, sort of an afterthought, because civilians just don't know how to address us, "sir."

"Lieutenant!" I barked. As he popped his head in, looking like a gopher… this time the animal, "What does the schedule look like?"

He flipped through papers on a clipboard. Returning his attention to me he briskly said, "Nothing until the afternoon, sir!"

"Sure. I'd love to go with you." I felt retired already when I talked to Steve inside this park.

Ruffled hair. Easy breezes and puffy clouds with no particular place to go accompanied us as we rode in Steve's golf cart down to the campground area.

He switched into a heavily accented, Italian, and said to the guys in the hole, "Bonjourno! Come stai?"

With hands that alternately told the story, hung onto a shovel, or took a drag on a cigarette, the workers told him about their progress during the morning.

He used a few Italian words to tell them "Good job. I think it's going to work out. Thanks so much for your help."

He turned back to me, "Admiral, being at the camping facility gave me a quick thought. Would you and your family enjoy spending a complementary night in one of our cabins?"

Years ago, I had spent a lot of happy nights previous to games in those very cabins with my boys. The second time I have been in Naples. I didn't tell Steve this, but the softening of my stance was probably unmistakable. "Give me a second to ask her."

Steve was quick to add, "We have the three cabins with bathroom included. They have a great view of the ballfields a little piece away from here. I'm sure you've seen them. Make sure she knows she will have a bathroom and a shower."

I pulled out my cell phone and took a few steps away from the park director.

Whether or not Ellie wanted to come, I guaranteed the cabin was going to be filled by a part of our family tonight. She would come, though. I already knew she spent a lot more time here than she told me about.

It was the easiest phone call of my week.

"Now that your entire afternoon and evening are planned, sir, will you be needing me here as well?" the assistant said.

We got into our very comfortable government issued vehicle, put on our seatbelts, and picked up my security guard detail at the gate.

"It's not going to be necessary unless you want to enjoy the park for yourself."

I had come to recognize a smile underneath the Navy face. Lieutenant what's-his-name had already made some plans.

"If you won't be me needing my services, I will see you at the office at the 7 AM hour as usual."

We drove away from the Carney Park, guard gate as befitted my rank. Security guards before and behind. Lieutenant what's-his-name had been chosen for his driving skills among many applicants. They gave me quality passenger time. Me acting like a sack of potatoes rather than a computing machine I had been trained to become over the course of deployment and peace time. I looked out of the window without caring whether my expression was wise or business like.

I had a few hours of time coming with my wife that made retirement seem a little bit less horrible.

The decision about Carney Park was halfway made, anyway.

I couldn't help being an early riser. It was hardwired. Not by the military. This habit, pre dated the military. Maybe DNA had a roll to play that I couldn't sleep past 5 AM. Today, it was more like 4 AM.

Ellie knew this about me. She barely stirred as I crept from our bed. I settled in at the kitchen table, with a mug of coffee, and the morning briefings. 

I had never stayed in a cabin this luxurious when my boys were in sports. Even on major's pay, we couldn't afford it. Almost looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't observed, I grinned.

She wouldn't be up until I was at the office, anyway. 

The easy-going clouds from yesterday may have gone to bed here. As I had my morning run, I watched the thick mist as it enveloped me. The clouds probably had work to do, but they were only giving up on sleep reluctantly. I never got winded from running. A service member, if he's worth his salt, has a habit to keep in conditioning. I kept going the entire hour with the clouds as company. They lifted to where they looked like wispy eyebrows above each of the trees on the golf course. 

My quick shower probably didn't wake my wife. If it did, though, I was within my rights. 

My security detail gave me a ride to the office where I would meet Lieutenant what's-his-name. My decision had been made as I got out of bed and as I brushed a soldier's lips against the cheek of the woman who had stuck by me through all those deployments. 

The contract would be renewed. I simply had to look disapproving and yell a lot until I was sure the contract was the very best terms we could get.

I could also guarantee my assistant's bug collection would grow ... because would be returning to Carney Park as often as the schedule allowed. 

some other admiral could make a decision more in line with the numbers… after my time ended in Naples.