The Interview

   The 14-year old still-pimply faced kid walked over to the old man sitting on the wooden bench and took a seat next to him.

   Not uncomfortably close, but close enough to make the old man shift a little to his right.

   The kid sat silently, glancing towards the old man every few seconds with a question or two obviously waiting to be asked.

   The old man slowly looked over to the kid and poked a verbal pin into the querulous look on the kid's face.

   "Is there something I can help you with young man?"

   "Uhm.." The kid gazed at the ground between his shoes as he gathered himself to reply to the old man.

   "Uhm...I don't mean to be a bother and intrude on your day, but I've been given a class assignment to interview one of my Grandparents, and, well, I don't actually have any Grandparents, and I've seen you sitting on this bench nearly everyday I go to school and I kinda was hoping I could interview you, if it's not an inconvenience or anything."

   The kid talked fast and nervously, as if he was asking a crush to the prom. The old man smiled a little and nodded his head as he replied, "Sure, that wouldn't be any trouble at all. What is your name?"

   "My name? It's Darren, Darren Martinez." I live in Lancaster, on 5th."

   "Are you one of Isabel Martinez's sons?"

   "Yeah - that's my Mom!

   "Good woman, Isabel, was friendly with my wife every time she went into the Beauty Salon."

   Darren made a mental note that the old man had not mentioned his father. Most people in the neighborhood didn't, out of courtesy.

   "My name is Clifford Macek, Darren, and it is my pleasure to meet you." The old man didn't offer Darren his hand as he introduced himself, just nodded as he spoke. "Now, what questions do you have for me?"

   Darren reached into his backpack and pulled out a note pad. He flipped it up and leafed through a few pages until he reached the page where he had written down the questions his teacher had suggested.

   "The first question Mr. Macek is what is your favorite memory from your childhood?"

   "Oh, that is a very good question Darren, very good. I remember many, many good things about my childhood, but I would say playing baseball with my friends is my favorite. I was raised in a small town in Kansas and I must of played baseball everyday during the summer from when I was old enough to play catch until I had to start working in the fields in my early teens. Yes, playing baseball with my friends is most certainly my favorite childhood memory."

   Darren wrote quickly as Mr. Macek spoke, trying hard to keep his rudimentary cursive script as legible as possible. He finished writing five minutes after Mr. Macek had finished speaking.

   "Sorry for not being able to write so fast Mr. Macek, but I'm trying to keep from making mistakes so I can remember what you say right."

   Mr. Macek smiled and said, "Not to worry Darren, take as much time as you need."

   Darren looked down at his note pad and read the second question from the list. "Who was your hero when you were a kid?"

   "Another good question. I have two answers, is that okay?"

   Darren nodded his head and prepared to write down the answers.

   "My first hero was Stan Musial - he was a baseball player for the Saint Louis Cardinals, my favorite baseball team. I liked him better than Williams or Snider or anyone. Stan the Man was a great ballplayer. My second hero was a person that was not only my hero but also my champion, and I didn't even know it until I was much older. That was my mother. You see, My father was killed in the war, the Korean war - that was in 1952. I was only 6 at the time, and my Mother had to raise me and my brother and two sisters herself for awhile, just like your Mother has had to raise you and your brothers and sister."

   Mr. Macek looked at Darren while he wrote, pausing in order to allow him to finish putting down what he had just related and to gauge what Darren's reaction was to what he had said about his Mother.

   Finishing the last sentence, Darren looked up at Mr. Macek and said, "You didn't have a Father either?"

   "No, no I did not. It was tough for women to raise children on their own back then, much as it is now I suppose, though there wasn't as much in the way of government assistance like there is now. The church we attended, and the people in the community did much to help my Mother though."

   Darren stared at his note pad for a few long seconds. He tapped his pencil on the sheet of paper then spoke.

   "I didn't know you were raised by just your Mom Mr. Macek. I was supposed to ask a couple of questions about what your Father was like. I guess I'll have to find someone else to interview."

   "Oh, don't do that Darren, I had a few Father figures in my childhood, good men who helped me grow up, taught me how to be a man. They were very important to me then, and my memory of what they did for me and my family is still important to me."

   Darren gazed downward for awhile longer, still tapping his pencil, then looked up at Mr. Macek again.

   "Okay, I guess I can ask you about those Father figures. Do you remember what they were like? Do you remember what any of them told you?"

   "I remember those men well, Darren, they all had a big impact on my life. Pastor Lister, the leader of the church we attended, Larry Kokocinski's father, Mr. Vecchio my middle school math teacher, and Keever Johnson, who owned the large farm where I got my first job - those four men were very integral in my development as a young man, as a person." 

   Without looking up from his notebook Darren wrote hurriedly. He paused and asked, "How do you spell Kokocinski, Vecchio and Keever?", all three of which Mr. Macek spelled out in a slow but pleasant fashion.

   After concluding that entry on his notepad Darren looked up and over at Mr. Macek, who was quick to answer the follow-up question Darren had before he could ask it. 

   "Pastor Lister was the man who taught me patience, and compassion. His congregation was small, especially by today's big, warehouse church standards. Probably only 200 or so people. All of us knew each other, too. He was the man who presided over my father's funeral, and he helped me to understand grief and grieving, a lesson which had to be difficult to impart to a 6 year-old boy."

   Mr. Macek paused while Darren wrote. He smiled when the young man looked up and asked, "What's a warehouse church?" His answer was direct - "Oh, you know those big churches that have their own T.V. stations and pack thousands of people who don't know each other into huge buildings and are always asking for donations to help them spread the good word, but have leaders that drive luxury cars and live in big mansions. That's not my idea of a real church."

   Darren seemed to hesitate a little before writing a short note, then looked back at Mr. Macek to signal his readiness to hear more.

   "Keever Johnson was the first man to give me a job - he also was the man who taught me how to drive. I worked on his farm from when I was 13 until I left for the Army in '64. When I first went to work for him he let me know what I was expected to be able to do, and if I didn't think I could do any of it I should go ahead and quit. I didn't know it at the time but that was his way of challenging me to learn, and I just couldn't turn down a challenge. So I learned to drive a tractor, then a farm truck, and I learned how the irrigation system worked and what needed to be done to maintain it - I learned what tools were for, and how to choose the right one for the job - this was well before schools had classes for those sort of things. Most people thought he was a simple farmer, but he was probably one of the smartest men I ever knew."

   Writing a little quicker and abbreviating much more, Darren wrote for a good 5 minutes longer than Mr. Macek had spoken. When it was apparent he had finished writing Mr. Macek continued.

   "Larry's dad, Mr. Kokocinski, who everyone called Mr. K, was the man who taught all of us neighborhood kids how to play baseball. He had been a minor league baseball player - which none of us knew until we were much older - and he loved baseball. he taught us the importance of teamwork, that even the greatest baseball players in the game, our heroes who could hit the ball out of the park or pitch a ball 90 miles an hour, were nothing without the 8 other men on the field with them. He taught us how to encourage each other, to make each other better, and to respect each other's contributions as being equally as important as our own. He didn't yell at us or embarrass us if we made an error or struck out, either - he just kept encouraging us."

   "I've never played baseball Mr. Macek, is it really that much fun?" Darren asked the question without looking up from his writing.

   Mr. Macek grimaced a little, then answered. "It was for me and my friends Darren. We live in a different world now, I suppose. Most kids your age probably play those video games, eh?"

   "Some do Mr. Macek, but not me - my Mom said we can't afford video games or to have the internet at home, so unless I'm over a friends house that has a game system, I just watch television when I get home from school." 

   "Television." Mr. Macek stated this with a little laugh as Darren went back to finish writing about Mr. K in his notebook. Darren then responded with the question, "You don't like Television Mr. Macek?"

   "Oh, I love television, Darren, one of the greatest inventions in history in my book. Allows all of us to learn about the world, even if it's just the Hollywood version of the world. Television is a great communication device and educational tool, but unfortunately it's also a great mind-polluter."

   Darren wrote what Mr. Macek stated almost word for word as he had the idea it was important to remember.

   "Mr. Vecchio might be one of the men that you might not believe was as important as he actually was Darren, because he not only was a teacher, he was a math teacher. I know when I was your age I didn't like school, or teachers, or math, very much, if at all, but Mr. Vecchio succeeded in getting me to appreciate all three - school, math, and teachers."

   "Wow," Darren stated quietly while flipping his notebook to a blank page and starting to write anew.

   "Yes, he was quite an amazing person. He was only 5'5", but at the end of the semester just about everyone who took his class thought of him as a big man, at least as far as his intellect was concerned. See, he didn't just write a math problem on a chalkboard and tell us to solve it, he taught us to understand why learning math beyond addition and subtraction was important, how it would help us to think logically, and how a clear understanding of math would help all of us to maximize our ability to think rationally, reasonably."

   Mr. Macek watched as Darren finished writing what he had just said. When Darren stopped he put his pencil down and shook out his hand. "That is the most writing I think I've ever done Mr. Macek. I think I can even read most of what I wrote. Would it be alright to contact you if I need to ask anymore questions?"

   "Sure Darren, no problem. Here is my phone number if you don't find me on the bench. I live in the Veterans home over by the stadium where the Dip's play."

   Mr. Macek stood up and reached for his cane. It was then that Darren noticed he only had one arm - his right arm was missing from the shoulder down. Darren quickly looked away. Mr. Macek noticed but did not comment. If Darren ever got curious as to how he lost his arm he would tell him, but he was certainly not going to impose that story on the young man.

   Standing up to face Mr. Macek, Darren said "Thank you for letting me interview you Mr. Macek, I appreciate it very much", all the while fighting the impulse to offer his hand to shake.  

   Mr. Macek smiled and replied, "Thank you Darren - I enjoyed being able to share my memories with you. It had been a long time since I'd spoken the names of those men out loud. That was good for me to do. Please feel free to talk with me anytime you like."

   Darren turned and started towards the bus stop, then turned to watch as Mr. Macek walked in the opposite direction. The old man had been far nicer than Darren thought he would be. He vowed then to return to the bench soon, if only to sit and pass the time with him.