Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

Turkey Time

Bucks County, Pennsylvania

1976

The November after Howard Kingsley had retired, he and his wife, Lee, invited Dena to come and spend Thanksgiving on their farm in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. From the moment she arrived, she could see that Howard was almost a different person. He seemed much more relaxed and looked like a true country squire in his khaki pants and his thick red-and-black-plaid shirt, and after a half day Dena began to relax a little, too. The house was an old stone farmhouse built in 1789 that sat on twenty acres. Dena was helpless in the kitchen so on Thanksgiving Day, she and Howard went for a long walk across the fields, behind the house, and into the woods. There she saw quail and pheasants for the first time in her life. It was a wonderful autumn afternoon.

As they walked Dena asked what it was like for him now that he was retired. He laughed. “Each morning I wake up so stiff and arthritic I can hardly get out of bed. I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror at what used to be a pretty passable mug and what stares back at me is this gray-haired, old, turkey-necked geezer and it’s pretty depressing. But then I think, Howard, old boy, today you can say any damn thing you want … and that puts a spring back in my step, I’ll tell you. That’s what I wish for everybody, that they get old enough not to have to please anyone, and ornery enough to thumb their noses at all the idiots in the world. It’s worth getting old. I recommend it to everybody.”

“You look about ten years younger.”

“I don’t know about that but I can tell you this, I feel better than I have for a long time.”

“Do you ever miss it at all?”

“No, strangely enough, I don’t. Not a minute of it. As a matter of fact, I wish I had stopped years ago. I’m just beginning to realize how much of life I missed. I can’t wait to get out to Sag Harbor for a whole summer. Did I ask you if you sailed?”

“The first time we had lunch.”

“Oh.”

“But I’ve never been on a sailboat in my life.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that, young lady. Yes, I didn’t think I would, but I like this retirement. I put in over fifty years and I figure that’s enough for any man.” He smiled and corrected himself. “Or woman.”

“Fifty years. That’s a long time.”

“Yes, but don’t forget, I go a long way back. I started on a little two-hundred-watt radio station in Sidney, Iowa.”

Howard suddenly stopped and motioned for her not to speak. He pointed out a doe and a baby deer across the field, who stood perfectly still, looking at them, then, after a moment, ran back into the woods.

Dena was amazed. “Wow! Are there a lot of deer around here?”

“Oh, yes. We put out a salt lick for them in the back. I’ve seen as many as twenty-five come at one time.”

“I’ve never seen them in the wild like this.”

“I thought you were a country girl.”

“No, not really. I was raised mostly in apartments in the city. My mother worked in department stores.”

“I see. Well, you’re going to have to get out here more often, put some color in those cheeks.” They walked for a while. “You know, the world has come a long way from that little radio station to where we are today. Television. God, I remember when the damn thing started.” He pulled a branch back so Dena could get by. “Murrow and I got so damn excited we could hardly stand it. Hell, we were so naive, we thought it was going to educate and uplift every human being, save humanity from ignorance, stop all the wars. I’m glad he didn’t live to see what’s happening, and it’s only going to get worse, I’m afraid.” Then he chuckled. “Since I’ve retired I found out one more thing about television I didn’t know. It’s a hell of a lot easier to be on it than it is to watch.”

When they reached the stream, Dena looked down at the water. It was so clear that the round, smooth brown and tan pebbles looked as if they were under glass. Howard pulled out a collapsible plastic cup he had in his back pocket and dipped it in the water. “I want you to take a drink of this.”

“You can drink it just like this … right out of the ground?”

“Oh, yes, it’s as pure as it comes. Try it.”

She sipped. It was ice cold and the best water she had ever tasted. “That is wonderful.”

“Isn’t it? Lee says we should bottle it.”

“She’s right.”

They walked over to a log to sit down but Dena was hesitant. “Are there snakes crawling around in there?”

“No. You really are a city girl, aren’t you? Snakes hibernate in the winter.”

“I’m not going to sit on one and wake him up, am I?”

“You’re safe.”

They sat and listened to the sound of the stream for a while. “We had a little farm about ten miles from town and my father used to say, ‘The minute a man gets too far from nature is when he begins to get into trouble.’ He was right, of course, but I didn’t think so at the time. Back then I just thought he was an old fogey, a country bumpkin that didn’t know anything. I just couldn’t wait to shake the dust off my shoes and head for the big city. See the world, be a big shot. But every day I’m out here, I think about him. I realize my old man—who I thought had never amounted to much—had lived one of the best lives a man could live. He was never cruel to a living soul, raised his children, loved his wife, and worked the land.”

Howard seemed lost in thought. “He didn’t talk much about himself. But right after Pearl Harbor, I came home for a visit before going overseas and we took a walk out on the farm. We started talking about the war and he told me something I never knew, something that had happened to him in World War I. He said one night he was in the trenches all by himself, waiting for his replacement, when all of a sudden he heard something and looked up and saw this young German soldier come crawling over. When he saw that German uniform he said it scared him so badly that he just closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. And the next thing he knew that boy had fallen right on top of him. He had hit him in the side of the neck. Dad said he was just a kid—couldn’t have been any older than sixteen or seventeen—and was as scared as he was. My old man said he sat there all night with that boy while that boy bled to death and there wasn’t a thing he could do for him but to hold his hand and try to comfort him.

“Neither one of them understood what the other one was saying but they talked all night. The only thing he could manage to find out was that the boy’s name was Willy. And just as the sun was about to come up, the boy called out for his mother and died right there still holding on to my old man’s hand. That was the first time I ever saw him cry. He cried over some boy he had killed over twenty-five years ago. But … I was so revved up and gung-ho about getting into the war, all I could think was to ask him if he got a medal for killing a German. He said, yes, he got a medal, but the first thing he had done when he got on the boat coming home was throw it overboard. He said there were no heroes in war, just survivors. I didn’t know what he was talking about at the time, until I got to see the glory of war for myself. And years later, when he was dying—he’d been in a coma for a couple of days—I was sitting beside the bed holding his hand and all of a sudden he opened his eyes and smiled at me. He said, ‘Hello, Willy.’ I think he saw that German boy.”

“Really … do you really think so?”

Howard picked up a rock and looked at it. “I don’t know for sure but you hear all these things about death, people claim they see.… It could be that he just had that boy on his mind. But my old man thought he saw him and he went out peacefully.”

Howard looked at his watch. “We’d better start heading on back. Lee’s been cooking for three days and if we’re late, she’ll kill me.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if it were true, that we really did get to see the people we knew after we die? My father was killed before I was born. I sure would like to get a chance to meet him. I’ve seen pictures of him but he has no idea what I look like. He probably wouldn’t even know who I was if he did see me. I’d probably just be a stranger.”

He smiled at her. “Well, speaking for all fathers, I’m sure he would be very proud of you.”

When they were almost home, Dena said, “Thank you for showing me this … it’s just great. In New York you forget there’s a whole different world out here, not more than just a couple of hours away. The air is so different. What smells so good out here … what is that?”

“Wood smoke. Lee has a fire going.”

“Oh.”

Howard said, “I’ll tell you, if I hadn’t had this place and my boat in Sag Harbor to keep me grounded all these years, I don’t know how I could have done it. You have to get out of that rat race every once in a while or you begin to lose perspective. We start to believe that New York and Los Angeles and the inside of a television studio is all there is to this country. You need to get out among the people, talk to them, find out what they are thinking. I’ve heard more common sense from a bunch of old guys sitting around drinking coffee than I have from some of the smartest, most educated men in the world. If you want to know what’s really happening in this country, ask them and they’ll tell you.”

At that moment, Howard’s grandchildren ran out of the house, excited to see them.

“Grandpa, hurry up, they won’t let us eat till you get here.”

“I’m here,” he laughed. “I’m here.”