= >

ic expertly painted sign with red letters--
readable from half a block away--on the side of
the yellow moving van said:

HANK'S MOVING SERVI CE
IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT
BE FRANK

CALL HANK
DAY OR NIGHT 266-5250

The flags on top of Fraser Hall about two miles away
to the west were flapping in the mild summer breeze
as the Griver closed the rear doors and padlocked
them. There was no traffic on the street or pedes-
trians on the sidewalk. A shutter, on the front of
one of the many deserted haises, banged against a
wall, The grass on lawns, long uncared for, had
turned brown. Occasionally a homeless cat or dog
would wander, undisturbed, in and around the hous-
es. The moving van had just been loaded with furn-
iture, kitchen appliances, old newspapers, memor-
abilia, cooking utensils, books, magazines, silver -
ware, clothing and other miscellaneous household it-
ems taken from the large white weather -beaten
house. It was the last house to be vacated to make
way for the new roadway. Behind the van, looking
for a news story, was a reporter ina car with a TV
station sign on the side. Behind the TV station car
was a police car and two policemen sent there in
case of trouble.

Hank, the husky, heavily-tanned, partially bald, for-
ty-year-old van owner and operator dusted his hands
off by clapping them together with a sliding motion.
He was tired as he slowly walked over and plopped
down on the running board, and waited for the owner
of the house, and old man, who had asked if he could
have a ride to his new house. Hank glanced at his
watch. The time was 2:45. It had taken him and his
slender, dark-haired. bearded, 25-year -old helper,
named Mark, five hours and forty-five minutes to
load the contents of the house into the van. Mark sat
down on the curb in front of Hank. Hank wiped his
sweaty brow with a red, bargain-store handkerchief,
lit a cigarette, looked at Mark and said, "Glad that's
over. Sure wish I hadda beer now. Sonuvabitch, it's
hot!"

"Yeah, a beer would be great. Want me to go geta
six-pack ?"’ Mark asked.

"No, that's alright. We can pick some up on the way."

Hank continued to sit on the running board and smoke.
His cigarette burned to a stub. He took out another
one and lit it with the butt before throwing it aside.
He took a deep drag and silently looked at the ground
with his elbows resting on his knees, as if he was in
deep thought. Mark sat on the curb, with his eyes
closed, catching his breath. Hank was barely winded.
He was an "old hand” at moving furniture. Occasion-
ally he would flick the ashes off of his cigarette.

Hank looked up and began to inspect the recently em-
ptied one-story house, It was old but solid. The
peeling white paint gave it a weather-beaten look. The
ends of some branches of an oak tree brushed against
the eave on the south side. There were several shin-
gles that needed replacing along with a few window and
door screens.

"Hell, it ain't bad," thought Hank. 'If it had a little
work and money put into it, it would be a damn good
house. Some of these newer ones don't last nearly
as long."

Hank looked at Mark and asked, "When the old man
asked if he could ride with us, how long did he say
he ‘d take ?"'

"Ten or fifteen minutes, he said, "'

Hank glanced at his watch and muttered, 'Sure hope
the old geezer hurries up, we gotta go!"" He looked
sideways at the police car and the TV station car,
knowing why they were there. Then his voice took on
an edge and became a little louder, "You know...it's
shit like this that I hate. I don’t like it but I gotta
make a living too. Goddamn politicians!"

To emphasize his point, Hank kicked contemptously at
a rock on the pavement. Mark nodded his head in a-
greement, shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Yeah,
I know."

   

  
    

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Gxes FA ASS

 
  

  

In the basement of the house the former owner, a wi-

dower, was taking a last look at what had been his home.

He was thin, old, grey-haired and slightly stooped.
He stopped at a corner, leaned on his cane with his

. left hand and adjusted his glasses. In front of him,

lying on the floor, he saw one of his dead wife's dres-
ses that he had overlooked. He got down on his knees
and picked it up. The doctor had warned him not to
bend over. He examined the dress carefully. His
wife had worn it before she had become pregnant, in.
1927, with their third son. There were a few moth
‘holes in it. He poked a finger through one of them as
he began to reminisce. A grin covered his face and
"Well, I'll be darned! Don't that beat all! ...Sonuva-

gun!...This is the one that Martha was wearing that
Saturday morning when the kids were out playing."

He looked toward the wall where the old couch had
been and continued to talk to himself. "Yeah. She
protested and slapped my hands at first and never
would admit it but I always knew she enjoyed it. "

The ole man decided to take the dress along. Hold-
ing it in his right hand and using his cane with his left
hand, he stood up. The effort winded him so he rested
for a couple of minutes. Then he looked up at the floor
joists. They were thick and heavy. He could see that
they were as solid as they were the day he put them in
--back in ‘23, He looked over at a crayoned tick-
tack-toe game on the wall about four feet from the con-
crete floor. "One of the grandkids must have done it,
he thought. Martha never would've let it stay there

if she'd seen it."

"Wonder which one it was?'"'he muttered, 'Wish they
were here now."' Tears came into his eyes and he
walked over and began slowly climbing the stairs. To
do this the old man had to put his cane and left foot

on the step then raise his right foot to the same step
and repeat the process until he got to the top of the
stairs. Then he leaned against the side of the door
frame for five minutes and rested before walking into
his former kitchen. He looked at the sink and remem-
bered the time that Sharon, his youngest daughter,
had chased Billy through the kitchen and knocked the
pan of chocolate pudding off the drain board,

"Damn was Martha mad, ‘'he said to himself as he re-
membered how she had paddled and sent them to bed
without any supper. 'Damn was she mad," he added.

A square pile of dust lay where the refrigerator that
he had bought in 1956 had been. Martha never would’
ve allowed that, he thought. She was the damndest
cleaner I ever saw, and the prettiest, he remember-
ed affectionately.

The old man walked through the open doorway into the
dining room. He took his package of chewing tobacco
out of his pocket and put some into his mouth. The door
knob was still missing. It had fallen off about a year
after Martha died sixteen years before and he had
never felt the need to replace it. Ina large circle
were scratches made by seven chairs. He rubbed
the tip of his cane across the scratches. Then he
walked into his two sons former bedroom. Over by
the window was where their bunkbed had been, He
smiled as he remembered all the times that he had
had to break up fights at night and then come back in
ten minutes and tell them to stop laughing and go to
sleep.

The old man relieved himself in the bathroom between
his two sons‘ and three daughters’ bedrooms. He
didn't flush the commode because the water had been
turned off the day before. ''What the hell does it mat-
tex now, “he thought. 'Tommorow they'll be tearing
it down!’ But his mood soon changed and he chuckl-
ed as he remembered the many times that his sons
had become impatient and angry because his daught-
ers had spent toc much time primping.

Next he walked into Martha's and his bedroom. In
the corner was where the baby crib iad been. All
five of his children had slept in it. At the end of the
crib, by the other wall, had been their double bed
which Martha had made up every day unless she had
been sick, The old man walked on into the living
room~. the memories of their late-night laughter,
talks and lovemaking, too painful to continue recall-
ing.

In the living room between where the rocking chair
had been and the wall was where Jimmy had bled on the

 
   
 

 

PUBLIC NOTICE

PAGE 4

carpet when he cut his foot. Martha had put iodine on
the cut and bandaged it and never once complained as
she washed the carpet. The old man looked over where
their living room couch had sat near the window and
remembered all the times after he had retired that
Martha had fussed at him for "having just one more
glass of wine." He saia aloud, "If only she was here
now, I'd let her do all the fussing she wanted," Tears
came again to his eyes.

He looked at the front door and his eyes lit up. I won-
der if it’s still there, he thought. After he had built
the house, Martha had put a new 1923 penny on top of
the door jamb. Every time she had dusted--which
was often--she had replaced it.

He locked around for something to climb on to see if
it was still there. There wasn't anything suitable in
the bare room. Leaning against the wall was a broom
that the movers had overlooked, The old man put
Martha's dress on the front door knob and raked the
broom straws across the top of the door jamb. A
penny clattered to the floor. He got down on his
knees, arthritis paining him, picked up the penny
and examined it before putting it in his pocket. Using
his cane with his left hand, he stood up and rested
while he looked around the room.

Looking at the bare walls caused him to become an-
ery. "Goddamnit, "he thought, 'I paid taxes on this
place for fifty years. These young whippersnappers
that are kicking me out now weren't even born when I
built this house. There weren't any paved streets,
sewers or electricity then. Whenever they raised the
taxes, I always paid. Never once didI complain,"

The old man’s face became flushed and his eyes bla-
zed. He began to talk to himself again. "Always was
loyal to my country and did my duty. Goddamnit, I
slogged through the mud in France and went without
food and water for three days in the Argonne Forest,
And this is what I get in return. '' He waved his arm
with a sweeping motion.

He needed to spit out some tobacco juice, 'Theyil
be tearing it down tomorrow, ''he thought. So he
spat on the floor and kicked the screen door open and
walked out on the porch, He Saw the moving van,
the police car, the TV station car and the state-owned
car. About a block away was a bulldozer that would
tear his home down the next day to make way for the
bypass. The old man began to gasp for breath and
there was a pounding in his chest. Quickly he took a
glycerin pill, After he had calmed down, he walked
down the stairs, still carrying Martha's dress,

The old man looked at the police car and snorted,
"Wonder if they thought I'd give 'em any trouble,"
as he chuckled softly to himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, the your.~ TV reporter was
waiting on the sidewalk with a tape recorder slung
over his shoulder and a microphone in his hand,

"Excuse me, sir, ''he said to the old man. "You are
the last person to leave this neighborhood, Would
you like to say anything?" he asked thrusting the mi-
crophone in the old man‘s face,

The old man looked the reporter in the eye, became

angry again and began to express himself, but stop-

ped. Instead he reached into his pocket, took out the
old penny, grasped the reporter's hand, pressed the

coin into his palm and shuffled=- without looking back
at the astonished reporter --over to where Mark and
Hank were waiting beside the van. They helped him

into the cab, got in themselves, and drove away.

1923
Penny

by Hobert Parker, Jr.

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