Walking Backwards - Episode 1
Drew returns to Austin, assesses the situation and comes to the conclusion he is all messed up.
Welcome to the first episode of my third collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Previous collections are:
The Cold Days of Summer - If you are the type who likes to start from the start I would recommend starting here (wow, I managed to insert a form of the word start three times in a single sentence - not sure if that is something I should brag about, but there it is).
New episodes are posted every Sunday. You can move easily between episodes via links to the previous and next episode.
If you are new to these not quite true tales of Texas but are the type who likes to dive right in you may want to look at the prologue to Walking Backwards. The prologue provides a summary of the first two collections and descriptions of the major characters you will be reading about in Walking backwards.
Walking Backwards
But this thing I commanded them, saying obey my voice and I will be your God and you shall be my people, and walk ye in all the ways I have commanded you, that it may be well unto you. But they hearkened not, not inclined their ear, but walked in the counsels and in the imagination of their evil heart and went backwards and not forward. Jeremiah 7:23-28.
Back in Austin
I learned one important thing on the drive from Odessa to Austin. I still like the taste of beer.
I arrived a little after 10:00 pm at my house. Sam was waiting for me when I opened the garage door. We went inside. I scrounged around the kitchen and fixed us something to eat. I finished off the three remaining beers from my Impact six pack and just past midnight Sam and I said goodbye to the day.
The Monday morning sun woke me around 7:00. I wasn't going back to work until Tuesday so I had the day to unpack and rest.
It had been an interesting weekend in Odessa, to say the least. It was the first time I had been back to Odessa since my Dad's funeral in the fall of 1985. It also happened to be my 10th high school reunion. I caught up with a good number of high school friends and acquaintances. I also carved out some time to see Mom, Elizabeth, Bud and the twins. I had a very strange but very good visit with Rick. He seemed to be back, he seemed to be real but there was a still a part of me who wondered if the whole thing had been a dream. It was that part of me who called the Anders' house a little after 10:00 am Monday.
Mrs. Anders answered the phone.
“Mrs. Anders, this is Drew... Yeah, I made it back last night... Oh, yes, it was a good drive, not a problem at all... Hey, is Rick there?”
“Why, yes, Drew, he is. He's in the backyard weeding. Give me a minute and I'll get him for you.”
A couple of minutes passed and then I heard Rick's voice.
“Drew, thanks for calling. Just checking in, aren't you? Not so sure that what happened yesterday really happened?”
“Yeah, not so sure.”
“Are you satisfied?”
“Yeah I think so. You're talking, not chanting, that's got to be a good thing. But you sound like Rick, the old Rick.”
“I can play both roles. Today there doesn't seem to be a need to be anything else. Plus my Mom needs the old Rick. As for you, you've got a lot to think about. You need to take everything we talked about yesterday and let it roll around in your head, see what you come up with. When you're done with that then we can have another talk and see where it takes us. How's Sam?”
Um, that threw me off. I don't think I told Rick about my dog Sam at all, at least not while he was actually listening and not rocking, chanting, murmuring or any of the other crap that had been Rick's primary ways of interacting with the world the last few years.
Rick seemed to anticipate my wondering and said “I was listening. I was always listening. I just didn't let you know I was listening. Sam, about three years old, white Samoyed mix, that's where the name came from. She has a great smile. I heard it all. So, how is she?”
“Good, good. Um, I didn't know you were listening all those times. I was just talking to fill the void since you weren't saying anything.”
“Not true, not true. I was saying something. You were the one who wasn't listening. But that doesn't matter. The point is I was listening and all you ever said is what you would say to a true friend and for that I thank you.
“Some people would come to visit me and they wouldn't know what to do. Sue was like that. When you left Odessa for Austin she dropped by regularly after school, every Wednesday for weeks on end. She was always polite, very nice to my Mom. Sue would start off talking to me all gay and happy, talk about her day, about her students, but truth is she never said anything real, it was, as you say, truly filling the void with sound, just meaningless sound. She never talked about J.T., you or anyone but her students. The drop by's always ended the same. Suddenly she would tear up, hug me and mumble 'Oh, Rick.' Then it would be all she could do to keep from running out of the house. It was like that for seven straight weeks, then she missed a Wednesday, then she didn't show up for a month, then two months and then four months and then for a year. About a year and a half ago she showed back up, all apologetic to my Mom. I could hear them talking, Sue told her about how busy things had been. That she and J.T. just never seemed to have time to catch up with old friends. Mom did her best to assuage her guilt but Sue held onto it like it was the most important thing in the world. From that point on Sue was consistent, she came by the third Wednesday of the month. And one Sunday afternoon a month, she and J.T. would come by. But the conversation never changed, both her and J.T. never said anything real, they were like scared bulls in a china shop, walking gingerly and tenderly trying not to break anything, but as a result never getting anything done, never getting anywhere. Sometimes it was like watching my own damn funeral, everyone was nice and no one was real.”
“Whew, yeah, you're back. What else you got to say?
“Just this, Drew, just this. Here's the difference. When you visited you were never like that. You talked to me as though I was listening and I was. Even though I had changed you were the same, you were my friend. You didn't pity me, you didn't pity my parents. You were just there, and most everyone else wasn't.”
“I wasn't there that often. I avoided coming back to Odessa as much as I could. I didn't like seeing you in that state and my Dad and I weren't talking all that much.”
“Did the two of you ever talk much?” There was more than a little sarcasm in Rick's voice.
“No, we didn't. We just never could cross that bridge. He was stubborn, so was I. Going home just felt uncomfortable. Sam helped out some, so did Brutus. Seems like if we couldn't talk to each other, we at least had something in common, thanks to the dogs.”
“Last night Mom and Dad told me about your Dad's death. Not that they had to. I knew about it.”
“Ah, Rick the all knowing is back.”
“He never left, but that's something between me and you.”
“Right, not a problem. For now, you're just Rick and that's good enough for all of us.”
I could hear Rick's Mom mumbling in the background.
“Drew, my Mom is worried about your long distance bill, says we need to finish this up.”
I laughed, that was just like Rick's Mom, hell, it was just like my Mom, always worrying about something.
“Drew, do you think Matt Johnson still goes to Manuel's on Thursdays?”
“Probably, he was going there every Thursday long before you and I started meeting him there.”
“Think I might just show up and surprise him.”
“Ah, I wouldn't do that. Matt is no spring chicken, you might give him a heart attack. You ought to take it slow with people. Let them know slowly that you're back, maybe even let them know bit by bit. You coming all way back as fast as you have, well, I don't know how most people would take it.”
“Yeah, it is funny. People all say they want the best, but so many people seem to enjoy the tragedies more than the comedies. That's one of the things I always liked about you, Mark and Tommy best, y’all prefer the comedies.”
“That we do, that we do.”
“Hey, Drew, I gotta go, Mom's threatening to unplug the phone from the wall. Let's talk again soon, but do some thinking first, I want to see how you put the pieces together.”
“Sure, take care, Rick.” then I heard Mrs. Anders on the phone.
“Drew, it was wonderful you called but next time you call collect. There's no point in you running up your phone bill.” In the background I heard Rick say goodbye and a door closed. It was quiet for a minute.
“Drew, thank you. I don't know what you did, but thank you. I have my boy back and I, I....” There was a gentle sob on the phone.
“Ma'am, no need to thank me. I didn't do anything special. I just had a feeling that Rick was coming back and was just lucky to be there when it happened. Say hello to Mr. Anders and let Rick know that we'll talk again soon.”
She said goodbye, I said goodbye. Sam was ready for a run, so was I.
The rest of the month went quietly. I went to work Tuesday. I talked to Rick later in the month and we agreed that we would alternately call every other week, one week I would call, the next time he would, that way the burden of the long distance bill would be shared between the Anders and me. Rick did take it slow with everyone else. His Dad had him checked out by a whole army of doctors. The diagnosis was that Rick was back but they really didn't know why. That made some of the doctors nervous, they liked being able to explain things logically and rationally. I was the same way. I know what happened, I knew Rick was back, but I couldn't explain it, at least not rationally and logically and I wasn't willing to accept an explanation that wasn't based in logic and rationale. For now I had to accept what had happened, but I needed an explanation.
All messed up
There comes a time for a reckoning, to assess, to accept where you are and who you are. That's where I was in September of 1986. Sometimes I make lists when I am trying to get a handle on things. This time I made a list of the good and the bad in my life. I even made a list of the shit I couldn't explain.
The good: I am 28 years old, healthy, own my home, have no debts to speak of. I have a Masters in Literature from the University of Texas. I have a contract gig at IBM as a technical writer and there's a good chance that in a few weeks I'll be offered a permanent position. I live in Austin, the city that many say is the best place to live in Texas. I've got a good set of friends. We're a little scattered now, but most of them are within a few hours drive. Sam is a great dog and friend. I made enough early on in life that if I don’t go crazy I have enough money to get by without working too hard the rest of my life. Rick is back.
The bad: Rick is back and he said he was God. He knows things that I can't explain.
The shit I can’t explain:
I’ve been hearing voices as long as I can remember. Most of the time I don’t pay attention to them, but every once in a while they are so loud I have no choice but to pay them mind. Luckily I’ve never heard crazy voices, no one has ever told me to go out and kill anyone, but still, I know most people don’t hear disembodied voices, voices in the wind. I’ve learned that it is best to not let others know this about me, so I just keep quiet.
My dreams are filled with the dead. Tommy - an old friend from high school, a dog with white paws that look like socks, Kaiser – my dog that died just before I left Odessa for Austin, and Daisy - the Keller's dog. Even my Dad makes an occasional appearance in the land of the dead. And finally, there’s Stan the Skeleton Man, a walking, talking skeleton that says his mission is to help me become who I should be, to get me where I need to be. Only problem is I have no idea who Stan expects me to be, or where he wants me to go, and so far, he has not been too forthcoming on his expectations.
I don't like not knowing how the pieces fit and that's what Rick is waiting on me to do, to think it all through and figure out how the pieces fit. We haven't had that conversation yet and I think he is getting impatient.
The end result? I’m messed up, all messed up and I got no place to go.
Author’s note: The title of “Waking Backwards” was influenced by the book “Looking Backward: 2000 - 1987” by Edward Bellamy. I read this book in the early 1990’s. Published in 1888, it is a utopian view of the future. Sort of a Rip Van Winkle approach where the main character is hypnotized in 1987 and wakes up in the year 2000.
A description of the book from Amazon:
First published in 1888, “Looking Backward: 2000-1887” is the highly influential work of utopian science fiction by American journalist Edward Bellamy. In the years following the American Civil War a growth in inequality led to an increase in social and economic turmoil. The rise of ever larger and less competitive firms was causing wages to stagnate and created an appetite amongst the populace for solutions to help mitigate the negative effects of an unrestrained and increasingly plutocratic form of capitalism. This appetite gave rise to a popular new literary genre, the utopian socialist novel, of which “Looking Backward” is arguably one of the most famous examples of. It is the story of young Julian West who is induced by hypnosis into a deep 113 year sleep. When he awakes in the year 2000 he finds that America has been transformed into a socialist utopia. Upon waking West readily encounters Doctor Leete, who explains to him what has transpired since he has slept. Society through a combination of technological advancement and the nationalization of the productive capacity of the United States has become a world in which people work together in mutual cooperation and harmony. “Looking Backward” was one of the best-selling novels of the 19th century, one which would inspire a large number of people to promote more socialistic public policies.
I bolded two sentences from the description that might give you a sense of deja vu. Mark Twain is reported to have said “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” That’s the advantage of studying history, it allows one to go “Hey, this reminds me of…” when others describe a situation or event as brand-new or never seen before. My personal theory of studying history is that too many of us don’t study history, we listen to it. That is, we learn history from those older than us, either in the classroom or out in the world when someone older than us tells what things were like back then. The problem with listening to history is that we are limited to the spoken words of those alive, which effectively limits our view of history to 60-80 years, the duration of most of our lives.
The title of the chapter “All messed up” is a reference to the song “All messed up and ready to go” by The Records, an absolutely great and under appreciated band from the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. To get a feel for The Records watch this video of “All messed up and ready to go.” You may have to watch an ad for a few seconds, but you can then skip to the music.
Next week in Episode 2 of Walking Backwards, Drew is surprised by who he meets in the field (dream world), and what happens in the waking world.
Seems like the beginning of another grand adventure. Have tissue ready for the tears that I know will come at sometime. Not always sad, just always real.