30

Spring hurtled by. The days lengthened, the peonies lining the driveway bloomed, the trees glowed an effervescent, shiny green. The high school graduation was held the last Friday of May, and all the town turned out to witness it. Eighty-four graduates, their parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, and neighbors applauding them in the same sweltering gymnasium where Sam had graduated decades before. The strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” were wafting through the air, nearly overcome by the ancient stench of sweat, body odor, and athletic defeat. It was difficult to feel positive in a gymnasium that had been the site of so many humiliating losses, but they managed.

Barbara’s parents were in town for the graduation, Levi was back from Purdue, and everyone gathered at the house for cake, ice cream, and presents. Sam gave Addison a Case pocketknife and Barbara, hoping to civilize her son, presented him with hardback copies of Thoreau’s Walden and Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, for which he seemed grateful. The grandparents presented him with two crisp hundred-dollar bills and Sam’s dad told the story of how Sam had barely graduated from high school, ranking 77th out of 78 in the class of 1979, a story Sam had never told his children, and would have preferred to have kept from them, but there was no stopping his father.

At eleven o’clock, they called it a day. Barbara’s parents were staying with Sam’s mother and father, the Super 8 at the interstate being full. Barbara worked the next day, as did Levi, who had been hired by Ellis Hodge to scrape and paint his outbuildings. They went upstairs to bed, while Sam and Addison retired to the porch swing, where Sam told him about Hope Friends Meeting, and Addison explained the workings of the M-16 rifle.

“How do you know so much about the M-16 rifle?” Sam asked.

“I looked it up on the Internet.”

Sam sighed. “I wish Al Gore had never invented the Internet,” he said. “I almost didn’t vote for him because of that.”

“I think I’m a Republican,” Addison said.

“Oh, my Lord. Don’t tell your mother. She’ll faint dead away.”

They swung back and forth in a gentle arc.

“So when did you decide to join the army?” Sam asked.

“When I was twelve.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“I didn’t want you to talk me out of it,” Addison said. “I know how you feel about war.”

“You’re right,” Sam said. “I don’t like war, but I love you, which means I will give you the freedom to make your own adult choices. That said, I would be much happier if you went to college, became a doctor, and supported your loving parents in their old age.”

“Do you think you’ll move back here once you retire?” Addison asked.

“Haven’t thought that far ahead. I guess it depends on how much we like it up there, and where you boys settle. We’d like to be near the both of you. Especially if you do your family duty and produce grandchildren we can spoil rotten.”

A police car drove by.

“Is that the officer you attacked?” Addison asked. “You know, for someone who doesn’t like war, you can be pretty violent.”

“I didn’t attack him. I was upset and called him something I shouldn’t have. But I apologized and bought him a cinnamon roll.”

“Well, he couldn’t ask for more than that.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Sam.

It was late; the day had been full, and momentous.

“I’m awfully proud of you, Son,” Sam said. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

“Miss you too, Dad.”

Sam stood, took Addison’s head in his hands, bent over, and kissed his son’s forehead.

“You are a joy to me, Son.”

They went upstairs, Addison to his room, and Sam to his, where his lovely wife lay, dreaming dreams.