Roots that Run Deep

Muggy day, Corwin thinks to himself.  He is driving through to San Francisco and on to the University of California, Berkeley where he will begin taking college classes.  He is aware that the world he has left behind will be nothing like the world he will experience at Berkeley.  Rube is the word that describes the folks where he is from growing up in Durango, Colorado. With the Weminuche Wilderness to the east and Mesa Verde National Park to the west, Corin Watson has spent his life in the western wilderness.  Traveling west on Interstate 40 after a long stretch through Farmington in New Mexico, Corwin has his phone turned into his favorite playlist that includes the Highwaymen that includes Kris, Willie, Johnny, and Waylon with a few songs by Chris Stapelton mixed in.  His daddy taught him what good music really is.

“Don’t let them California boys try to talk you out of what good ol’ American music is all about.” His father bear hugged him as he opened the door of his Jeep Wrangler.  The Jeep belonged to his dad and had a lot of rough mountain miles on the odometer, but his dad had the Jeep fixed up when he got the letter of acceptance to Berkeley. “You are one smart hombre, don’t let ‘em tell ya any different.  Remember our Watson roots run deep.”

His father got drafted into the army in 1968 right out of high school just like most of the boys in his graduating class.  Most of them did time in Vietnam, too.  Most of them came home a little more broken than when they left. Ruffy, his father, left Denver to work in a warehouse and shipping company.

His father urged Raffy to go to college on the GI Bill, but Ruffy told his father, “I don’t want a damn thing from the government.”

He thumbed his way from Denver to Durango like a hobo, his father’s words.  Once he got to Durango he found work immediately where he did not need a college education.  Ruffy was honest about his time in Vietnam, “A lot of the fellas came home in a flag draped coffin.” 

He did not dare tell anyone what he saw happen while he was over there either.  Corin asked about the purple hearts hanging from his old army uniform, but his dad told him they screwed up the paperwork and ended up giving the dang things to him instead of the fella who deserved them.  

Corwin loved spending time with his dad in the wilderness tracking elk, but as he got closer to San Francisco, he figured he would not be spending much time tracking game in this place since there didn’t seem to be any to track.  There was nothing but pavement with plenty of traffic and tall buildings that reflected the sunlight in the glass. 

His father married his mother twenty years ago and was twenty years her senior which did not make her parents very ecstatic about their union either. In fact mom’s mother refused to attend the wedding.  Before he got married, Dad had completed a couple of court ordered stints in some rehabilitation clinics that he would not talk about.  

All Corwin knew or cared about was Jenny and Ruffy were in love. 

“Name?” A student with a clipboard greeted him at a checkpoint near the dormitories. 

“Corwin Watson.” He answered.

“Hmm.  Don’t see that name on my list.” He gave Corwin a credulous glance. 

“I have my acceptance right here.” Corwin handed the clipboard student a copy of the letter.

“Ah, did you apply for a room in the dormitory?”

“Was I supposed to?” Corwin pinched his face together making his pale blue eyes disappear.  

“Oh my God.” The student shook his head. “It was part of the application process.” 

“I didn’t do that part.” He grinned, but his did not help the situation.  

“You’ve got to go to administration.” 

“Where the heck is that?” 

The clipboard student sighed deeply and jerked his head toward a big cement building at the end of the road.

“Alrightee.” Corwin shrugged and pulled out onto the road nearly running over the student with the clipboard.

“Name?” The woman standing at the window asked.

“Corwin Watson, like I told that guy with the glasses and the clipboard.” Corwin smiled since he had been told by his father that he had a winning smile.

“I need you to fill out the application for campus housing.” She handed him a piece of paper without looking at him. 

“Housing?  Do I get a house?” 

“No, Mr. Watson.  You will get a dorm room if we still have any left.” She sighed.

“What if ya don’t?” 

“You may have to sleep in your car.” She gritted her teeth as a substitute for a professional smile. 

“Really?” 

“Naaaoooo, we will have to work out something.”

“Maybe you have a house somewhere?” 

This time she responded with a heavy sigh.

He sat in an empty chair.  There was a pen attached to the table. 

Name

Home address

Email

Father’s occupation

He stopped at this question since he wasn’t sure of what his father did after he got fired from his last job at Peyton's Warehouse, so he wrote: “I do not know.” 

When he finished filling out the paper, he got back in line behind some frazzled looking students. He smiled just like his father told him to do. 

“What is your father’s occupation?” She asked when she saw his answer.

“He ain’t got one.  Well one I know about.” He smiled.

“Why not?”

“On account he got fired.” Corwin continued to smile.  He sure as heck wasn’t going to tell her his father got fired for drinking while on the job.  

She picked up the phone treading the thin line between a total breakdown and her last nerve and sanity. “Hello, Mr. Kenworth?  Could you come up to the front counter, I have someone you should meet.”  Pause. “Because he’s a handful.” 

After some tussle, Mr. Kenworth managed to get Corwin a dorm room.

His hands were shaking as he put the pistol to his head.

“Dad! What are you doing?” Corwin ran into the room where his father sat with the pistol pointed to his head.

“Rutherford.  My God!” His mother got to him first.

“Leave me be, Jenny.” He would not let go of the gun.

“Have you been drinking?” She was in tears.

“No, I have not been drinking.  Just smoked a little crack.” He giggled as he jiggled the gun.  

“I’ve got to call the police.” She picked up the phone and dialed.

“No, Jenny, I don’t need-”

“I won’t have this, Rutherford.”

The cops came in about twenty minutes later. Ruffy had already surrendered the pistol to Jenny.  Ruffy got a bit boisterous with the police and they put him in a strangle hold until he passed out.  Once he had passed out, they were able to put the handcuffs on him. 

When they brought him to his feet, he looked directly at Corwin and said, “Never tell anyone, not even grandma or grandpa about this, do you hear?” 

“Yessir.” Corwin glanced at his mother who was still in shock.  

“You’re my roommate?” The student who held the clipboard was laying on his bed with his shoes on the floor.

“Yup.  Mr. Kenworth fixed it.” Corwin held out a copy of the completed application.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” He shook his head, “Mr. Kenworth, ooohhh, that man hates me.”

After taking a few deep breaths, he said, “My name is Dowd Meyers.” 

“Good to meetcha, Dowd.” Corwin shook his hand.

It would be smooth sailing for Corwin after that.  He got his schedule and went to his classes without any roadblocks.  The only problem was every professor adjunct or otherwise wanted to know what he was planning on doing once he got his diploma.

“I dunno.” He would shrug, “I guess hang in the hallway in my house.” 

There would be some random laughter that followed, and Corwin would always ask, “What’s so funny?” 

Corwin saw him mopping the tile floors in the hallway.  Heavy-set with a shaved head and a scruffy beard, Corwin noticed that African American janitor would stare at him when he passed by on his way to class.  He had learned that people preferred when he used African American and not the word that his father used.  African American seemed like a lot of words, but when he used the other word, it seemed to upset a lot of the students and faculty.  He didn’t mean anything by it, but if it made people uncomfortable, he’d go with the flow as the other students would say.  Besides, the man worked hard keeping the floors clean when so many of the students would just track in the mud and throw trash on the floor. 

“How are you doing in your classes?” Dowd asked me as he played a video game called Minecraft.  

“I seem to be doing alright.” Corwin answered as he turned the page in his calculus book.  

“The reason I asked was because some of the guys were telling me that you seem a little slow.” Dowd explained as he continued to concentrate on his game.

“Slow?” Corwin’s face was twisted into a question mark. 

“Yeah, you don’t catch on to things right away.” 

“Are you saying I’m stupid?” 

“Well…” 

“I’m not.”

“Easy Corwin.  I’m only telling you what I have heard others say.” Dowd shrugged.

“Well, they can at least ask me.  I’ll tell them.” Corwin sat at the edge of his bed, “Is this because of where I’m from?”

“Not at all.” 

“I get the feeling that it is.” 

“It’s just the guys-” 

“Yeah, the guys.” He put his head down.  He slapped himself on the top of his head with his open hand. “I knew when I came here things would be hard to get along.”

“Hey, we were just a little concerned about-”

“About what?  Just because I’m a little different?”

“You could say that.” Dowd agreed.

“I was accepted to this college just like you and the others.” Corwin stood up and I will not let you and the others look down on me because I don’t dress California cool.” 

He walked out of the room and the dormitory because he needed some air.  

“Hey kid, whacha name?” It was the janitor having a smoke.

“Corwin Watson.” He answered as the janitor crushed out his cigarette under his boot.  

“Is your old man named Rutherford Watson?” He asked

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” 

“Could you do me a favor?” His eyes were locked into Corwin’s.

“What?” 

“Tell him Sergeant Hayes said hello.” He smiled.

“Does he know you?” Corwin watched him materialize from the shadows.

“He sure do.” He said in a deep, raspy voice. “He saved my life in Da Nang in 1969.” 

“Well, he might not be the guy you think he is.” Corwin shrugged, “He never told me anything about what happened over there.” 

“One thing for sure, all hell broke loose when they come at us back then.” He closed his eyes as if he was asleep, dreaming. “I had a patrol out there when we took heavy fire.  Got three down before we knew what was going on but did what we could to keep them from breaking across the parameter.” He opened his eyes and looked at Corwin again, “You tell him that I am here.”

“He won’t come.” Corwin shook his head, “He told me he’d never leave Durango.”

“I understand.” He lit another cigarette, “I’m like that myself.  Visiting too many strange places makes me jittery.” 

Corwin chuckles, “He says that all the time.”

“On account if you go to too many places, you get yourself killed.” He exhaled some smoke, “You learn to dig in and pray no one comes to gecha.” 

“So, what happened?  What made him a hero?”

“He was part of a Huey crew, and they come down during the action and clear out them VCs, but not until I took a round in the chest.  Thought I was dead.  But he hopped out and saved my life like an angel in the sky. He come in to check on me while I was in the hospital.  He called me Lippy.  He called me that on account I would never stop talking.  My given name is Marvin. I went home to Georgia, but I found out that was no place for me to be.  I come here, because my sister tells me about how wonderful this place is. But ain’t no place any different from any other. It’s about where you think is a good place to put down, ya roots.”

He reached into the pocket of his olive-green overalls and pulled out a photograph.  He put it in Corwin’s hands.

“That’s him.” Corwin replied as he looked at the photograph of his father sitting on the hospital bed of Sergeant Hays.  

“I know.” He sniffed, “First time I saw you, I know who you was.” He grinned, “It don’t take no genius to figure that out.  You got his smile, that twinkle in his blue eyes, his chestnut brown hair, the freckles around his nose.  I know the first time I seen ya who son you was. Or maybe you was his grandson for all I know.  Don’t matter.”

“I am his son.” Corwin was fighting off his tears.

“You keep that.” He pointed at the photograph in Corwin’s hand.

“No, it’s yours.”

“I don’t needs it no more.  Cause when I see you, it’s like it’s 1969 all over again.” He chuckled. “It’s like he’s here and he is.” 

Corwin bowed his head in a gesture of thanks to the janitor who had served with his father.

“You show ol’ Rutherford that picture there.” He pointed at Corwin as he began to walk away, “And do me a favor, son.” 

“What?” 

“Tell him I say thanks.” He turned to walk away.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” 

He stopped and bowed his head, “Please just tell him.  He understand.” 

“So, how’s college?” His father asks him as they sit down at the dinner table.  Christmas decorations hang from every possible place in the living room.

“It’s going well, dad.” He smiles as he takes a spoonful of mash potatoes.

“Have you met anybody interesting?” His mother asks with a slight blush to her puffy cheeks. 

“Not really.” He shakes his head. 

“Give it time.” His dad nods.

“Actually, I did meet someone interesting.” He pulls the photograph out of his shirt pocket and lays it on the table next to his father.

“Who is this?” He asks as he holds the photograph.

“It’s a friend of yours.”

“It’s me, but I don’t know who the other guy is.” He shrugs and looks at his son.  

“He said he knew you from Vietnam.” Corwin explains.

“Wish I could say who he was.” His father sticks out lip and shakes his head.

“Sergeant Lippy Hayes?” Corwin reminds his father.

“Never heard of him.” He continues to shake his head and tosses the picture back at his son, “We in the Watson clan have traditions that run deep in the soil of this country.  All the way back to before the Revolution.”

Corwin knows the lecture that is coming. He tries to communicate with his eyes that it isn’t necessary.  His father has spoken to his father and there is a good chance Corwin will follow that family tradition.  Roots that run deep in the soil of father against son until a disagreement descends on them that neither can overcome, and a lifetime of silence prevails.  

Corwin picks up the picture, “He knew stuff, dad.  He knew about how you saved his life.”

“No such a thing, Cor.” He shook his head, “Whomever it was that fed you this stuff, was wrong.  Got me mixed up with someone else. Drop it.”

“But-”

“I said drop it.” It’s the first time anyone can remember Ruffy raising his voice in anger. 

There is a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it.” Ruffy wipes his mouth with his napkin and throws on the table as he rises to his feet. “Probably some salesman or someone I don’t want to talk to.” 

He opens the door and Hayes is standing on the porch as snowflakes fall all around him.

“Hello Rutherford.” He smiles.

“What do you want?” Ruffy stares at him.

“I wanted to say hello.” Hayes nods.

“You said it, now be gone.” He goes to close the door.

“I figured you’d be like this.” Hayes shakes his head. “But I came all this way to thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“Saving my life.” Hayes tilts his head.

“It was my job.” Ruffy holds his chin up.

“We were just two scared kids a few thousand miles from home.” 

“The place reminded me of what my dad said hell looked like.”

“No doubt, but if we allow ourselves to become bitter with those horrible memories, we will pass from this life with a bitterness I don’t want any longer.” There was a twinkle in Hayes’ eye.

“Would you like to come in…Lippy?” Ruffy looked away for a moment and then a smile began to grow on his face.

“I thought you’d never ask, Rutherford.” He followed Ruffy in to be greeted by Jenny and Corwin. 

Family tradition’s roots do indeed run deep, but sometimes determination to change what has happened in the past can be a powerful force as well.  Just as it was around the Watson table that evening as the photograph lay between the two men.