text: Mark’s Drawing Sam W. Joseph March 10, 2022 The old man sat in his rocking chair staring at the television set, but not seeing it. He was unaware of the story being portrayed, as his mind was on other things. He noticed that happening more and more lately. Much of his time was spent thinking about past events. Good times, bad times, in between times. He often thought about his son Mark. He had been a good son and for the most part was a delight to have around. That is, until August 1970, when Mark came home one day and announced that he had enlisted in the Navy. They had had a big argument about it and the old man’s wife had taken Mark’s side. “He’s a grown man,” she said emphatically as she tugged on a strand of her hair. Her husband knew she did that when she was nervous. “At least we could have talked about it before he signed the papers. Viet Nam is a dangerous place and service people are getting injured and killed there every day.” “Dad, we’re talking about freedom and liberty. Those commies are looking to knock over every country in Southeast Asia. First thing you know they’ll be on our doorstep. We can’t let that happen. I just don’t feel right about other guys going over there and defending our American right to freedom and liberty and me sitting at home doing nothing,” Mark said with exasperation. “Yeah, well I raised you. Your Mom suckled you. Your country didn’t do that. Your allegiance is to this family first. I didn’t raise you to go off and get killed in some god forsaken place. Besides those Viet Cong ain’t done nothing to me.” At that time, a large segment of the American population agreed with him. There were a number of protests in cities across the country. College students were staging sit-ins and marching in the streets. American servicemen were being disrespected in their own country. Mark persisted and soon the day came for him to leave for boot camp. His Mother shed tears over his leaving and his Dad hardly said a word to him. Finally he spoke up. “Do you need anything. Do you have enough money?” “No, I’m good.” “Let us know if you need anything.” “Do you need a ride to the bus station?” He was scheduled to catch the noon Greyhound to Great Lakes Naval Station in Michigan. “No, Buddy ‘s going to stop by and take me.” “Is Cindy going to the station with you?” his Mom asked, referring to his girlfriend since high school. Everyone figured they would eventually get hitched. “No, we talked about it last night. She’s not going to the station. She’s staying at home. She’s rather upset with me. She doesn’t like my enlisting anymore than you do, but she said she’d wait for me to come back. She said she’d like to come and visit once-in-awhile, if that’s okay with you.” “Why should we mind. She’s a lovely girl and we like her a great deal. She’s welcome anytime, ” his Mom replied. His Dad looked at the wall and pointing to an empty frame, he said, “What about that sketch you’re doing of the family. Are you going to finish it while you’re gone?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “Nah, I’ll do that when I get back.” “I guess I can put up with people asking about that empty frame. I sure thought that picture would be ready by now. It’s kind of like having people asking a pregnant woman in her ninth month over and over again, when she’s going to have her baby. Okay, I’ll leave it right there until you get back. I’m not taking it down.” “I’ll finish it. I promise.” A horn honked out in the driveway. “That’s Buddy, I’ve got to go.” Mark hugged his parents, picked up his bag and was out the door. They followed him and watched as he jumped into the old Ford pickup and exchanged jibes with his friend. The truck started down the road and they waved to him until he was out of sight. Both were crying and they hugged each other, knowing now it was just them. It was the last time they would ever see him. “Are you coming in?” she asked; her shoulders drooping a little more than usual. “No, I think I’ll sit out on the porch for a bit,” he said as he sat in the old rocking chair, taking out his Meerschaum pipe and filling it with his favorite aromatic tobacco before lighting it. As he enjoyed the aroma of the pipe smoke, he could also detect the delectable swell of honeysuckle in the air. He looked out over the cornfield with stalks swaying in the breeze, their lush ears of corn showing off their lovely tassels of yellow, amber and brown. “Harvest won’t be the same this year without Mark,” he thought slowly scratching his cheek. He looked up at the beautiful blue, cloudless, Colorado sky and sighed as he wondered, “What the hell is this world coming to. You spend twenty years raising a son to live a full life and contribute to this world and the next thing you know he’s going off to war in some part of the world you’ve never heard of before.” He shrugged and suddenly, felt very tired. He tamped the burnt tobacco out of his pipe, thumping it against his palm and watched the warm ashes drift to the ground. He put the pipe in his jacket pocket and went inside. His wife was preparing supper and he noticed that she had absent- mindedly prepared the table for three people. He reminded her that Mark wouldn’t be there. She said, “I know that. Mark’s girlfriend Cindy is coming over to have supper with us. She’s off to school in New York City tomorrow and wanted to spend her last night here with us. ___________________________________ Six months later the two of them were sitting on the couch of their living room with its flowered wall paper and patterned rug, each crying softly. The Naval officer had just left after delivering the news that Mark had been killed during an explosion in a gun turret of the ship on which he was serving, the USS Reagan. Mark and other gunnery mates on his team had died instantly. ____________________________________ Returning to the present, the old man gathered his wits and decided he’d better tidy up, because his case worker was due for her weekly visit. He looked forward to it. With Mark and his wife now gone over twenty years and Cindy busy doing whatever she was doing these days, it was kind of lonely, just him and the TV. His wife Mary had left him shortly after Mark died. Her heart just broke. Cindy still stayed in touch with him after all these years but not as often as she would have liked. She remained unmarried living with the memory of her one true love, Mark. The case worker was a very friendly young woman, brown hair falling about her shoulders, blue eyed, carefully plucked eyebrows, and medium height. She wore a sleeveless blue blouse, tucked into well- fitting Levis and the latest model Saucony walking shoes. She was very good at what she did and he liked her. “Hello,” she said, as she surveyed the room. It was essentially the same as when his wife had died, twenty years earlier. He managed to keep it maintained to some degree of semblance as his meticulous wife had for so many years, but failed in many ways. She would not have approved of his efforts. They chatted for about a half hour and then the case worker prepared lunch for them. It was the best he had had since she was there the week before. After cleaning up the dishes, she asked if she could do anything more for him, as she looked around the room. She gazed at the empty frame on the wall, as she did on all her visits and asked, “Are you ever going to take that frame down?” “No, I’m leaving it up there and before you ask ‘Why?’, I’ll tell you. It reminds me of one of the stupidest mistakes I ever made. My son went off to war and his last remembrance of me was that I was angry with him. I just wish I could have one more conversation with him to tell him how much I love him. “I can understand that. We all have regrets.” With that she departed, saying, “I will see you next week”. __________________________ She arrived punctually the following week and knocked on the door. She was surprised when Cindy appeared at the door. “Oh, hi, I’m Mr. Johnson’s case worker, Judy Johannson. Can I come in.” “Yes, but I’m afraid he’s not here. He died three days ago.” “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed away. He was such a nice man. Is there anything I can do to help?” “No, I don’t think so. He had made most of the arrangements in advance so as not to bother anyone. Everything seems to be in order. I’m just tidying up a few things” They chatted for awhile longer and as Judy was standing up to leave her eyes once again turned to the empty picture frame. To her amazement, there was a beautifully done sketch of the Johnson family filling the frame. It was done with a larger profile of Mark looking down at the family from the sky. It was marvelous, and it left Judy breathless. “Where did this come from?” she asked. “I did it. Mr. Johnson never seemed to understand. He always told people that I was in New York City going to college, when actually I was at the New York Academy of Art studying for a degree in fine arts. I have a studio now in town. I was doing this sketch for Mr. Johnson to give to him as a surprise. Unfortunately, he died before I could give it to him. I thought it would be appropriate to put it in the frame. I believe Mark would have liked that. “That’s such a wonderful gesture,” Judy said. A tear ran down her cheek, as she stared at the art work. As they exited the house, she looked up at the beautiful, blue, cloudless, Colorado sky and said to Cindy, “Somehow, I feel that all three of them are up there looking down at us and nodding their heads in approval.” Driving down the road to her next appointment, Judy thought about all that she had experienced over the last six years since taking the job and the many people she had met. Every day seemed to present some new, unusual experience and what a day this had been.