with the surveys. Accept those terms, Doug. Give one to our numbers every once in a while. Take the raise. Or quit. Whatever you decide.”
I can’t quit. I can’t afford to.
“What’s it going to be?”
“I’ll play, Robby.”
“Great, Doug. Welcome aboard.”
Jeannie placed a story in Women’s Wear Daily about a circus-motif promotion Susan created for Filene’s in Boston. Jeannie told Doug she learned from Susan the initial money for the new business came from a loan given by Susan’s parents, Dr. and Mrs. Brook.
Susan’s father was a man of medium build with a porcelain-smooth face, his nails always manicured, his hair cut by a barber who came to his office once a week. Ethel Brook was a petite woman with Susan’s dark-brown eyes and hair, a heavy shopper who changed her clothes so often Doug used to think she could have had a nightclub act. Doug never called his father-in-law Charles or Dad. Mrs. Brook referred to him as “the Doctor,” even to Doug, and Doug called him Doctor, and the man was comfortable with this. Doug was aware of how disappointed they were that their daughter chose a sportswriter. From their tone over the years, and the fact that they seldom read his pieces, they made it clear they considered him to be in the blue-collar section of journalism. When Karen and Andy were born and there were birthdays to be celebrated, Doug and Susan’s apartment became the place where both sets of grandparents mingled across social lines. After the divorce, Doug’s parents and Susan’s parents never saw each other.
Doug’s father, Frank Gardner, was a portly man, bald, with dark features, five feet six, with a double chin. Norma Gardner was similar to Frank in size, a round woman, a half inch taller than her husband, with a face that was moon-shaped, the outline of a face crying out for jolliness but fixed in the melancholy of financial struggle. Norma had worked for years as a cashier in a coffee shop. Frank was the owner of a small costume-jewelry company, Norma Creations, which made “items,” as Frank referred to them, mounted on white cards, which sold for under ten dollars. His dream had been to sell Woolworth, if only he could have sold to Woolworth, and they would have been rich and lived in an elevator building instead of a walk-up on Amsterdam Avenue. When the Woolworth chain began to fade economically he tried without success to sell to the new suburban stores in shopping malls. He placed his line in the five-and-ten-cent stores that were still scattered throughout the country, using a novelties wholesaler, which reduced his profits. His efforts to upgrade the line always failed. He never could move to that position in business where his leading “item” was on a piece of satin in its own box, for twenty dollars. Norma Creations leased space in a plant in the South Bronx where two men physically produced the line that Frank created in rough pencil sketches. That Frank Gardner evidenced no other artistic interest, never went to a museum, and could barely draw the designs that became the “items” had always been disturbing to Doug. He believed his father had little flair for his profession and was a man permanently pinned to the wrong card.
Frank and Norma Gardner came to the apartment on a Saturday to visit with Doug and their grandchildren, Frank carrying a plastic bag of flounder he had caught that morning on a fishing charter out of Sheepshead Bay. “Sweet as sugar,” he declared, then cleaned the fish and expertly cut them into fillets. Doug observed his father and the pleasure he took from his fish, working at the sink with powerful, precise movements, humming. Fish moments such as these were the only times Doug saw passion in his father.
Rain was falling, and they spent the afternoon indoors. Frank and Andy were busy with gin rummy, Norma and Karen made a cake for dessert, then they all played Monopoly together. After dinner Norma drew Doug aside.
“Paint is chipping
I can’t quit. I can’t afford to.
“What’s it going to be?”
“I’ll play, Robby.”
“Great, Doug. Welcome aboard.”
Jeannie placed a story in Women’s Wear Daily about a circus-motif promotion Susan created for Filene’s in Boston. Jeannie told Doug she learned from Susan the initial money for the new business came from a loan given by Susan’s parents, Dr. and Mrs. Brook.
Susan’s father was a man of medium build with a porcelain-smooth face, his nails always manicured, his hair cut by a barber who came to his office once a week. Ethel Brook was a petite woman with Susan’s dark-brown eyes and hair, a heavy shopper who changed her clothes so often Doug used to think she could have had a nightclub act. Doug never called his father-in-law Charles or Dad. Mrs. Brook referred to him as “the Doctor,” even to Doug, and Doug called him Doctor, and the man was comfortable with this. Doug was aware of how disappointed they were that their daughter chose a sportswriter. From their tone over the years, and the fact that they seldom read his pieces, they made it clear they considered him to be in the blue-collar section of journalism. When Karen and Andy were born and there were birthdays to be celebrated, Doug and Susan’s apartment became the place where both sets of grandparents mingled across social lines. After the divorce, Doug’s parents and Susan’s parents never saw each other.
Doug’s father, Frank Gardner, was a portly man, bald, with dark features, five feet six, with a double chin. Norma Gardner was similar to Frank in size, a round woman, a half inch taller than her husband, with a face that was moon-shaped, the outline of a face crying out for jolliness but fixed in the melancholy of financial struggle. Norma had worked for years as a cashier in a coffee shop. Frank was the owner of a small costume-jewelry company, Norma Creations, which made “items,” as Frank referred to them, mounted on white cards, which sold for under ten dollars. His dream had been to sell Woolworth, if only he could have sold to Woolworth, and they would have been rich and lived in an elevator building instead of a walk-up on Amsterdam Avenue. When the Woolworth chain began to fade economically he tried without success to sell to the new suburban stores in shopping malls. He placed his line in the five-and-ten-cent stores that were still scattered throughout the country, using a novelties wholesaler, which reduced his profits. His efforts to upgrade the line always failed. He never could move to that position in business where his leading “item” was on a piece of satin in its own box, for twenty dollars. Norma Creations leased space in a plant in the South Bronx where two men physically produced the line that Frank created in rough pencil sketches. That Frank Gardner evidenced no other artistic interest, never went to a museum, and could barely draw the designs that became the “items” had always been disturbing to Doug. He believed his father had little flair for his profession and was a man permanently pinned to the wrong card.
Frank and Norma Gardner came to the apartment on a Saturday to visit with Doug and their grandchildren, Frank carrying a plastic bag of flounder he had caught that morning on a fishing charter out of Sheepshead Bay. “Sweet as sugar,” he declared, then cleaned the fish and expertly cut them into fillets. Doug observed his father and the pleasure he took from his fish, working at the sink with powerful, precise movements, humming. Fish moments such as these were the only times Doug saw passion in his father.
Rain was falling, and they spent the afternoon indoors. Frank and Andy were busy with gin rummy, Norma and Karen made a cake for dessert, then they all played Monopoly together. After dinner Norma drew Doug aside.
“Paint is chipping
Similar Books
