Chapter One - Morning in Ohio

9:00 O’Clock, on a Wednesday morning. A man is jumping around a lower-middle class apartment; he is wearing his pajamas. There is indiscriminate, yet melodious punk rock falling out of the speakers of his hi-fi. A box of half-eaten donuts sits on a giant wooden desk in a room appearing to have once been a den. Next to the donuts sits a copy of “The Economist” that had never been read, which is sitting on top of three James Michener books, that will never be read. This den is that of a person who wants a mission, but hasn’t quite got one. Random “to do” lists are seen, collecting dust.
March 14th, 2001
5:30 a.m.- working coffee at diner (postponed)
9:00 a.m. meet msgr. o’herlihy about aid to africa (postponed)
11:00 a.m. prep. for speech
7:00 p.m. LBJ movie on cable – HBO or Showtime
Oh, the potential we are witnessing, might the author of these lists think; if there were time for such self-indulgence. But today is a workday, and moments must not be watered down with what-might-have-beens.
A coffee pot begins its cycle, mixing the gentle sound of water trickling, with a noticeable pattern to the steam rising from the machine, dancing around through the lighted kitchen. In the next room, on the TV, as the theme song to a morning news show[1] was just starting. The volume from the stereo was competing with the music – but on that morning, the man didn’t want to pick one or the other. There are posters on the walls; framed by the smoke rising from the toaster. The Ramones. The Who’s Tommy. An old, ripped panorama of the Colorado front range. The Brandenburg Gate. A campaign promo from Ford-Dole ’76; a laminated puzzle of St. Peter’s Basilica. Among this, a small brown dog sits at the door with a knowing look.
“Zephyr, you think you can hold it until I’m out of the shower?”
Silence.
“I don’t even have any pants on. Jeez, Zeph, be good.”
This man, now in a terrycloth bathrobe, stands in the courtyard he shares with his neighbors, not as one who had been ready for coffee and a shower, but now just as a lifeline to a hound who would certainly get the hell away from him, if only that were possible. Zephyr liked the fresh air and perched himself on something akin to a pitcher’s mound, relaxing for a moment in the dirty mix that was a remnant of the winter snow. The dog lay down, and stuck all four of his feet right into the air, to enjoy the gentle arms of the morning sun.
“Zeph, come on. Go. I am in a hurry, fella. Do this one for me”.
More silence. The dog, it seemed, had a mind of its own. Of course, Steve expected that of Zephyr, and would not -could not –let himself be angry.
The man in the bathrobe gave in, to an extent, getting down on the earth next to his dog, offering to scratch the belly of the beast in exchange for an expedited whizzing. Zephyr, as was his custom, was being difficult. There was an unspoken hammer waiting to fall; the master would tie the dog to the gate and go back inside if the need be. Would that happen today? There was something lacking to this carrot and stick approach. Zephyr was patently indifferent as to which burdened him to his leash, be it a frustrated owner, or a rust metal gate. It was the man’s own sense of patriarchal duty that kept them both outdoors; he couldn’t abandon his best friend. Playing a psychological trick on Zephyr, the man looked up at the sky, feigning a disinterest. Would the unwatched kettle then boil?
Not three minutes later, Zephyr was done, and the two went inside. Eureka.
“Rats” said the man, as he realized he had left the shower running while out with Zephyr.
This was Steve Samuels at home. He was in a hurry, because he had to leave. He was in a hurry, the sort of which people wait for. Steve was an instructor of American History, at Gomer Community College, in his hometown of Gomer, Ohio. Usually, at this time of the day he’d be making plans to drive to work. But not today. Instead, he was waiting for a ride. A friend of his –a lady- was going to pick him up today, and he was on his best behavior.
As a Gomerite quite comfortable in the prestigious halls of Junior College Academia, he had been invited to set up a booth at the local high school Career Day – today. His normal routine was interrupted, and he was glad about that. He felt good about the work he was about to do. He had gotten up early – after staying up late – to refine his remarks, to the kids – no, young adults – in attendance. They should stay in school. They should follow their dreams. They should obey their mothers and fathers and maybe, just maybe, if they were lucky, they would see the finest successes of this expansive country. Steve believed this. His charges had a good life ahead of them. And so, for that day, on Career Day, he would have their attention. In that august body of Gomer High School, for a moment, Steve was their conduit to greatness. Of course, it wasn’t clear at all whether the charges, the captive audience would see Steve in this capacity. The little “secret” Steve was keeping to himself was evident to most anyone – Steve was most concerned about an audience of precisely one.
So Steve had washed his white dress shirt, taking it to the cleaners for extra starch, got a haircut, and new razor blades, just to prepare himself for his morning. Today was a workday, yes, but a workday not ordinary. He was too preoccupied to notice the shaving cream behind his ear.
After settling on a pair of light brown trousers and wing-tipped shoes, Steve put on a blazer, one of many he had, and took a sip of scalding coffee, making sure his breath mints were in his coat pocket. With that, he sat at his desk, and watched the phone. He was too preoccupied to notice the shoe polish on his pantleg. To kill time – he began to thumb through a copy of The Economist, next to a box of donuts.

“Will this phone ever…”
-rrringg!!!-
-rrringg!!!-
“I must not give the impression I am waiting by the phone.” thought Steve.
-rrringg!!!
“Hello, you’ve reached the residence of Steve Sam…..”
“Dang!!” said Steve out loud.
“Hello?”
“Steve, I am just leaving home. I’ll be out front in just a couple minutes”.
“Cool, Jenna, see you in a few!”
Thus began a very good morning for Steve. Jenna Kasner was a woman Steve met when they were both in graduate school - she for her first time, he for his third. From time to time, Steve would correspond with her, and on rarer occasions, they would work together. Jenna was three years younger than Steve, and light years ahead of him in every way. She too had taught at Gomer, for four months, and recently competed directly with Steve for a junior position on the History faculty at the University of Northern Ohio[2]. He had mortified himself by walking right past her on his way out of his interview. He saw her, but simply didn’t recognize her – it took a “Hey…Samuels!?” from her to smack him back into reality. He was too preoccupied with the questions that had been asked of him[3] during his interview to notice anyone – anything -else[4]. But wow – here was Jenna Kasner. Why – she’d cream those interviewers!
Against his nature, Steve was not jealous of her when she was hired. In fact, he was delighted. Their chance, dumb encounter invented a reason to visit her office. He called her, and she was most enthusiastic. Steve felt that perhaps – just maybe – the old sparks might come back.
They had met as teacher’s assistants at that very college (she in her field—history, he in someone else’s--- Business Associations), he had attempted to make small talk with her, to the topic of corporations in America. Steve felt they had made an immediate connection; for she “knew her stuff”. They spoke of robber barons, they spoke of piercing the corporate veil- you see, Jenna was from the world of big business in a small town. Her mother had, at one time, been a shareholder of Gomer’s own Delicious Dairy, Inc. As a small girl, Jenna would read through the quarterly reports when playing CEO with her friends. This youthful narrative gave Steve the hook he needed to bring her into his world, and to plant his feet in hers. The prominence of the Kasner family in Ohio stood in contrast with the complete anonymity of all things Samuels. That, Steve thought, made them a very good fit for each other.
And thus began his famous charm offensive.
After their first couple weeks at the college, he knew the time was right. He looked through his files, and dug out his one published work (“Fiduciary Duties of Shareholders of Closely Held Corporations – Not Your Father’s World Anymore”.) He would give her a copy - as a token of their common interests. Steve placed his “paper” in his backpack, next to his lunch, and went to school, to show The Esteemed Kasner that there was more to him than she may have thought. She took his pamphlet, and realized quickly that Steve had missed the boat regarding his business analysis – he was really completely wrong- but he had several of his facts and figures right, and wrote with a mildly entertaining cadence. She wondered what reason he had ever had for spending so much time about that topic, but she enjoyed the melodrama of the business world, quietly making corrections to his work in her own mind, intending to raise those issues when they would next meet. That is precisely what she did, and Steve found her critique – strangely enriching[5]. That’s how they came to know each other. In the five intervening years, they had never again talked of corporations, but they became fast friends because of his mundane efforts, and her grace in deflecting them. He thought well of her from the first time they had met, and consequently dearly enjoyed these moments. It did not hurt that Jenna was easy on the eyes. Very easy on the eyes.
Just as Steve started to lose himself within the confines of his and Jenna’s younger years, the doorbell rang, and there she was. In person -and ready for….Career Day.
Upon Jenna’s arrival, Steve promptly stopped caring about his duties at Gomer, stopped reminiscing to himself about how they met, and readied himself right away for a discussion as to her latest work[6] – for she was an academic, thinking with a generosity of intellect that people around Steve generally missed. Who was this self-possessed woman, with a fondness for History, and a firecracker’s wit? Who was she? Steve wanted to know, and he was quite pleased that she had offered him the freedom, within his own persona, to meet her. Although they were not particularly close, he felt that they enjoyed each other’s company. Perhaps what they enjoyed was well-defined, with clearly established confines, but it was enjoyment – legitimate enjoyment.
And so they found themselves as ‘lecturers’ at Career Day, at Gomer High. Jenna was invited to speak to the students, because of her great successes in her chosen field, having found that success at an age more relevant to the young people. Steve, because the local Episcopal Priest was called out of state at the last minute, and he was the only person available at a day’s notice. Of course, Steve would have cancelled his own Baptism to attend such an event.
Ever thinking, he called Jenna immediately. He had seen an advertisement for Career Day on public access television, and was certain her name was on the list of presenters. Fancying himself persuasive, he convinced her that they should…carpool. She agreed.
Career day at Gomer High meant a great deal to the two educators. Steve intended to connect with the kids who would one day walk the halls of government and commerce; the future decision-makers. Jenna would in fact connect with the kids who would one day walk the halls of government and commerce. Steve would in fact scare off potential students. Nonetheless, Steve was sure that they would put on a good show together. Jenna was bright, and Steve had waited, perhaps a little too quietly, to meet her in an arena different than the coffee shops and bars of Gomer. Neither one of them was a wild socialite, but they were indeed young, and once, they played. One time years back, a time Steve thought about often, he and Jenna danced at a concert – a Salvation Army fundraiser by a local cover band at the college- to Redbone’s “Come and Get Your Love”[7]. Steve was in good form, because he was drunk, and he knew all the words. He preached those words to her, and he wondered if there was a hint of possibility, in Jenna’s mind. He knew there was at that moment, he could feel it. Would but there a be little of that in the world outside of special occasions and reasons to celebrate, would there be such in a nine to five?
That was the question, and he knew it was on him as well as on her- she’d been playful, as had he, and it was on them to define that, or to pass it away. Steve’s own instinct was to honor those moments as one may a touchstone, something to hold close, keeping them once, then only remembering. But he also knew that was not the right way to become a full-grown person. He didn’t quite know where she was, but he knew where he wanted to be. There would be time to find out more about her, and there would be time for Steve to offer her a little more of himself. He would offer her a view of himself at Career Day, even as he made every attempt to keep those personal thoughts hidden. They would, perhaps, come back. But not before the day’s work was done.





[1] “Good Morning, Gomer”, with local celebs. Rick Hadley and Marnie Peppers,until recently, Marnie Hadley. But they still get along in public.
[2] At their common Alma Mater. Steve couldn’t stand UNO while he and Jenna were there - he always saw himself as more of a Harvard or Yale man - but ever since beginning at Gomer Community College, he understood how nice it would be to move to the university across the river – into his own office. And, to be sure, he liked the idea of seeing more of Jenna, for they would then be colleagues.
[3] Such as “…have you ever even had a real job?”
[4] He was not called back.
[5] We are beginning to see a pattern here. Although Jenna was indeed a born teacher, Steve was certainly not a born student. In spite of that, he took her terms as indeed something offered as help- in that, he learned.
[6] She was beginning work on a short article on Jean Faircloth MacArthur, wife of the famed General.
[7] “Come and get your love, come and get your love, come and get your love, come and get your love now; Come and get your love, come and get your love, come and get your love now.”
(c) Copyright 1973 by Novaline & Music Inc. and Blackwood Music Inc.