The Hollow Men - Episode 40
Drew goes to his 10th year high school reunion and comes to a realization he is isn’t too happy with.
Last week in Episode 39 of The Hollow Men Drew completed his Master’s degree, received a gift from his Mom, reconnected with Mark, Kate and Jack, and returns to Odessa for the ten year reunion of the Odessa Permian High School class of 1976.
The Hollow Men is the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas. If you have recently subscribed and like to read things from the very beginning feel free to start with The Cold Days of Summer, the first collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Each episode of The Cold Days of Summer and The Hollow Men contains a link to the previous and next episode so you can easily move through the story line.
Safe food and conversation
After the handshake of death between Bud and me, the six of us (Elizabeth, Bud, George, Mary, my Mom and me) walked into Harrigan’s, waited a few minutes for a table, sat down and ordered. Harrigan’s has all kinds of food, from enchiladas to hamburgers to pizza. None of it is excellent, but all of it is good and it is safe. So was our conversation. We talked in and around everything and nearly avoided any area of conversation that might be termed dangerous in our family. With Dad gone, there weren’t so many dangerous areas, but what was dangerous usually had something to do with money, why I wouldn’t move back to Odessa, when I would settle down, get married and when I would get a real job. We talked until there was nothing safe left to say and then we were silent.
Luckily our timing was impeccable. Silence arrived as I picked up the check. After a couple of half hearted attempts to take the check from me, Bud let me pay for dinner. Everyone leaned back in their chairs satisfied in their fullness. Mom was the first to speak.
“Drew, dear, you best be going to your reunion. You don’t want to be the last one there.”
I glanced at the wall clock hanging over the waiter’s stand, saw it was 6:50, and smiled. Officially the evening’s activities began at 6:00, but I knew there was hardly any point in going until about 7:00 or 7:30, otherwise there wouldn’t be any one to talk to. I understood her point. She was putting up a graceful exit, so I could leave before the conversation got too interesting between Bud and me. I liked Bud, had a lot of respect for him, but there was a little bit of my Dad in him and since my Dad's death it was becoming more and more evident. I guess some people think that when a strong person is gone, someone has to take their place. Bud had been there day in and day out since my Dad died so I couldn't hold that against him, it is just that he seemed almost possessive of my Mom. I wasn't in competition with him and sure didn't plan on going back to Odessa. I was more than happy to let Bud be the patriarch of our clan.
I paid the check and left a good tip. We got up from the table, walked out to the parking lot and said our goodbyes. I told Mom that I would come by Saturday afternoon and she just shushed me, saying I didn’t time to hang around an old woman. I gave Elizabeth a hug, leaned over and tickled George and Mary, shook Bud’s hand and said goodbye as I got back in my truck.
Five minutes later (this time I missed the light) I was back at the hotel. I went up to my room, closed the drapes, laid down on the bed and took a short nap until about 7:45. For a few minutes I just laid on the bed, listening to the sounds of day going into night.
The Raddison was a nice hotel, but the walls were thin and outside I could hear screams of joy as old friends saw each other in the hallway. I got up, walked into the bathroom. I washed my face, ran water over my hair, then slung my hair straight back. I had it cut short right before I left so all I really needed was a quick towel dry and a quick brushing and it was ready to go. I took one more look at the mirror and wasn’t too horrified by what I saw and figured I might as well go out and join the party. I made sure I had plenty of cash, truck keys and my room key and walked out the door and into the hallway. No one screamed at me, there was no one in the hallway and I walked down towards the elevator. I pressed the down button, waited a few seconds, watched the door slide open and stepped in. Once I reached the lobby I walked out to the parking lot and out to my truck.
The Friday night get together was at Dos Hermanos, a restaurant club on the northwest side of town, just off 52nd and Andrews Highway, about a 20 minute drive from the hotel. Thank God I wasn’t drinking. Of course, depending on what time of night or day it would be, I might have to do some good defensive driving. The drunk drivers in Odessa were determined son-of-bitches. I knew from being one when I was younger and from my Dad being killed by one last year.
Dos Hermanos had a large open air area at the rear of the restaurant and this is where the reunion started in earnest. I arrived a little after 8:00 pm and picked up my reunion packet which consisted of a name badge, itinerary and a nicely printed booklet of the names and addresses of all the people who had registered. Handing out all of this information was Terri Hennings, one of the cheerleaders when I was a senior. Back then she was an untouchable, and she still looked good enough to me to remain an untouchable.
After a little small talk with Terri, I walked to the bar, ordered a bottle of water, smiled as the bartender sneered at me, paid for my water, waited for my change, no tip for him, and smiled one more time as he again sneered at me.
Some of the folks I recognized instantly, some I didn't. In most cases I would smile, nod my head and tilt my water bottle in recognition. I kept moving on, I wanted to get a whole scope of the situation before I committed myself to any one group.
I had nearly completed my tour when I heard a familiar name and voice.
“Yo, Werd.“
I turned around and saw Jason. I hadn't seen him since I graduated from UT with my bachelor’s degree.
“Man, Sorry about your Dad. I didn't hear about it until a couple of weeks after the funeral. I have been out of sight, spending about a week a month up in the corn fields of Illinois.”
“What the hell are you doing in Illinois?”
“Working on a project. It is in the middle of nowhere, and no one really likes to go so four of us have agreed to spend a week a month and rotate the work among us.”
We talked for quite a while. Jason was still at Exxon Production Research in Houston and had survived the latest bust cycle of the oil industry. I told him about my technical writing gig at IBM in Austin. We both swore to carve out some time to see each other in the next few months.
I had the same kind of conversation with a number of people that night. It would start off with how good we all looked, then it was “where are you living?” followed by “what are you doing?” Some old memories would be shared, and then the conversation would wrap up with both parties promising to stay more in touch. I think that same conversation was repeated all night long amongst the crowd.
As the evening wore on groups started to form, groups very similar to the cliques that had roamed the Permian halls ten years before. People tended to stay with their own kind, there weren't too many willing to cross the lines. I had hoped we had grown out of that and I made a few attempts to talk with people that I knew but hadn't been part of their clan but nearly all attempts failed politely, politely in that it became clear that most people were interested in catching up with those they were close with in high school and not much with anyone else. A lot of cameras were brandished but I stayed away from the photo opportunities as much as I could.
Around 10:00 our clique was well formed. Barry, Jason, J.T., Sue (now six months pregnant), Mark, Jack and Kate. This time around we did have a new female member of the group, Shannon. I talked with her for a bit and came to the realization that Jack had found himself a good one. I hoped Jack realized that. All in all, we had a good time, but missed Tommy and Rick.
Around midnight people started drifting away. J.T. and Sue were the first to leave, but promised to be back for the Saturday night affair. I finished the evening with Mark, Jason and Barry back at the Radisson. Since I wasn't drinking I was the designated driver. We closed the bar at 2:00 am, then drifted up to Mark's room which was well stocked with libations. Around 4:00 am Mark, Jason and Barry were a cumulative three sheets to the wind. Mark passed out on his bed, Jason and Barry stumbled their way to their rooms while I walked soberly to mine. By 4:30 I was sound asleep.
An afternoon meditating
I woke up around 10:00 am, felt a little tired, but with no hangover at all I felt the best I had ever felt after a night out until 4:00 am. I went down to the restaurant, had a nice, big breakfast and lots of iced tea while I read the Saturday edition of the Odessa American.
Saturday afternoon I spent quietly with an old friend. A little after 1:00 pm I drove to 1715 E. 11th, to a house I had spent many hours and days in the past, to the childhood house of Rick Anders. Rick’s parents still lived there. So did Rick. For the last several years he had been at home but never seemed to get better.
I knocked on the door and Rick’s mom answered. I came in; we talked for a few minutes about anything but Rick. Finally I asked her how Rick was doing. She sighed and said “He’s chanting again.”
“Is he saying the same thing? I asked.
She nodded her head yes and said “Yes, he’s saying dogmy over and over again.”
There wasn’t much more to say. I got up and walked back toward Rick’s room. The door was closed. I knocked it on lightly and walked in. Déjà vu. Rick was sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands lightly gripping the edge of the mattress. He was rocking back and forth and was chanting quietly “Dogmy, dogmy, dogmy.”
I sat down across from him and brought him up to date on my life. There didn’t seem much else to do. All the while I talked he chanted “dogmy” over and over again. He never stopped and he never changed his tone, cadence or volume.
It was 3:30 pm and I was still talking to Rick, not even sure what about at that point and he was still chanting. I got up, told him that I needed to be going and that I might stop by tomorrow before I left for Austin.
“Quit looking in the mirror.”
I jumped in the air at the voice. I looked around and there was no one there save for Rick and he was still chanting “dogmy” over and over again.
It was time to leave. When I start hearing voices, it is definitely time to leave.
This is the end, my friend
Just a few blocks from Rick’s house was the house I grew up in, the house where my Mom lived. I drove down the street, parked the truck and knocked on the front door. It didn’t seem right to just walk in as this house, this town, was no longer my home.
I heard Brutus barking, I heard my Mom shush him as she walked to the front door. She opened the door, laughed, told me “You don’t need to knock, just come on in.” I did. She gave me a good hug, and a peck on the cheek before walking off to the kitchen. In a moment she was back with two glasses of iced tea, one sweet for her, the other one for me.
We sat in the living room on the couch. Brutus hopped up between us, and laid down well within reach of both of us. My Mom and I had the conversation we didn’t have the night before. An hour and a half later we were both caught up on practically everything worth catching up on. I had run out of things to say. She noticed the quiet growing between us, told me it was to time to get back with my friends, gave me a hug and walked me to the front door.
On the way back to the hotel I stopped at Jo Jo's. An excellent decision, if I do say myself. A perfect hamburger, crinkle fries and a large lime coke. All that was missing was the gin.
The Saturday night affair was a combination dance and dinner in one of the large meeting rooms at the Radisson. The official start was at 7:00 pm, with dinner being served at 7:30. I showed up around 8:30 pm. Dinner had been served, the plates had been taken away and people were focusing on the conversation and dancing.
As it was the night before the cliques of the past dominated. The crowd was a little larger as more people had come into town Saturday. Some people I saw Friday night looked the worse for wear from Friday night. I was beginning to see an advantage to this not drinking thing as I felt great, clear-headed, nicely rested and not a bit of pain.
The beer and booze flowed and as the night wore on people loosened up and some of the cliques merged and broke apart. I talked to quite a few people that night, the later it got the friendlier people were. I think it was the booze and not a change in my personality.
A little past 1:00 am and the crowd had dwindled down to a little less than a hundred as folks headed home or back to their rooms. J. T. and I were still talking and were coming close to some serious conclusions about life and the world, save for the fact that the booze that J. T. had consumed that night kept getting in the way of any truly logical discussion.
"Have you ever thought about returning to Odessa, Drew? Sometimes you need to come home."
I looked into his eyes and saw the same J. T. that I knew in high school. Some people really never change. J. T. was one of them; he was as decent now as he was back then.
"No, no, I won't come back. I can handle being here for a couple of days, but then something comes over me, I get itchy and I've got to leave. How do you handle it, how can you live here?"
"Well, I'll admit, this is no paradise, times are tough, and on more than one occasion Sue and I have seriously thought about leaving, but we never get beyond that stage, we never get beyond thinking about leaving. I've managed to stay employed over the years, the last few have been leaner than I like, but I was able to save a fair amount during the boom that we could get by for a while if all the work dried up. Now that we have a little one on the way we figure there is no better place to start a family.
“I don't know, there's just something about this town, something that keeps us here. This town was made from nothing, a hundred years ago there was nothing here but the plateau, no trees, no water, just some glorious sunsets. But the people came here and they built a town, maybe not a pretty town, but parts of it, parts of it are more beautiful than anything than I've ever seen.
“Remember where your uncle and aunt live? Over by Odessa High, and how the streets there are lined with trees so big that they stretch across both sides of the streets and form a canopy for blocks? Those people built something, something lasting and beautiful, something that lasted longer than even their own lives. Something that stands out from everything else in the town. That's what Sue and I are trying to do with our ten acres, build something that will last, something that will stand out from the desert that surrounds us."
He paused for a minute, took a drink, shook his head and looked around.
"I don't know, it's like after you've been here awhile the sun, the wind and the dust does something to you. It makes you a part of it all, you belong, and no matter where I go, I miss being away from my home. For the last few years, just ask Sue, we've left town for a two week vacation, one week passes, and the two of us are ready for home. We pack up and head back, we're drawn back.
"I guess that's it, we belong here and we know it, we feel right here and that's a good feeling. But, I'm sure you know what I mean, that's probably how you feel about Austin, right?"
Before I had a chance to answer Sue walked up and announced that it was late and time to head for home. J. T. was looking at me, waiting for an answer. I nodded yes, shook his hand, gave Sue a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then they walked away. I wondered about what J.T. had said, about how he felt a part of the town, and I envied him for I had no idea what he meant by that, I had never felt a part of any town, of any place or anyone. I had always felt like a transient, passing through, even when I was in my own home. I envied J.T. and I hoped that some day I would understand how he felt about Odessa, but I didn’t think it would happen soon.
It was late enough, and there was no else I really felt like talking to. I took the elevator to my floor and walked to to my room. Once in my room, it didn’t take long to get ready for bed, and not long after I closed my eyes I fell asleep.
Author’s note: In this episode Drew says “I can handle being here [Odessa] for a couple of days, but then something comes over me, I get itchy and I've got to leave.” I have the same allergy. The last time I was in Odessa for more than 2 days was in January 1990 for my father’s funeral. I’m not sure what it is, but I do get that itch when I cross the Ector county line. Since 1990 every Odessa trip has been less than 48 hours. That wasn’t planned, at least consciously. Maybe my subconscious knew 48 hours or more in Odessa was too much for me.
Next week in episode 41 of The Hollow Men things get strange, real strange.
I’m committed to our 50th reunion for the class of ‘76. Not sure where I “fit” but let’s be sure to say hello.
West Texas is a state of mind. The endless sky vs. the endless dust.