We bought the car. It almost made it all the way home. I still remember Vicki in the rear view mirror, white knuckles on the steering wheel of her Volvo, as she followed us home after picking it up Monday night. It wouldn't have been so bad if Shawn hadn't wanted to put the top down. On the other hand, it was good that we did. Between the oil blow-by and the side pipes leaking, with the top up we would have been dead in short order. By the time we got home I couldn't decide if Vicki was furious or just queasy from the oily smoke and exhaust she had driven through all the way home. I didn't mention price did I?......good!
The next six months consumed a lot of time and money, but it was time spent with Shawn. Nights and a good part of each weekend, in the garage or chasing parts. Vicki came to tolerate the car because she saw what it was doing for Shawn and me. Through all of this Sam was supportive and would often come down and sit in the car, offering advice and placing a reservation for some distant senior prom. Shawn worked hard. He did well in school and he threw himself into learning and doing as much as he could on “Brutus” as he came to call it.
Many nights I would get home after a hard day at work and all I'd want to do would be to sit down in front of the TV with a beer and vegetate. For the last fifteen years, life at work has been a bitch. Every American company is going through the agony of becoming competitive in the global economy, something we never had to do before, and it hurts. More and more I buy American because I see other governments waging economic war against us. On top of that, many American companies are shipping jobs overseas to save money on wages and taxes. The middle class is getting hammered from every direction. The same people whose money drives our economy are being laid off in droves. But the tide is slowly changing, foreign “cheap labor” countries are starting to have economic problems with wage demands and civil unrest. The pendulum is swinging back and American labor is looking better all the time.
“Dad” Shawn roused me from my flag waving. “Do you want to put the heads on tonight?” there are some dreams, some moments as fragile as egg shells, a wrong word, look, or gesture can crush them. The danger is, you may never know it. It can be a cross word because you had a bad day at work and got chewed out by your boss, or a customer, when it wasn't even your fault. You may be worried about making ends meet or more important things like your health or the health of a loved one and how do you pay your medical bills. So many facets of life closing in on you, demanding your time and attention. Into this world comes someone you think you have some measure of control over, asking you to put aside all your “real” problems and share yourself with them over something you may perceive as trivial, not really worth your time, or even ridiculous. Do it. Do it because if that person were gone tomorrow, you would forever regret not having spent enough time with them when you had the chance. “Sure, let's put those heads on.”
Over those months, working together in the garage, I came to know my son better than I ever thought I could. There is something about doing a job, not just getting it done but doing it to the very best of your ability. When it is completed you know it is done right. Working like that is very rewarding. Pride in what you do. Pride in accomplishing something, no matter what, gives you a satisfaction you have to experience to understand. Shawn and I shared that in bringing Brutus back to life. There were many frustrations; stripped bolts, others that broke off and had to be drilled out. These are physical things to be overcome. The real accomplishment was the building of the man, not the car. The car will run because it is governed by the laws of physics. Provide the right combination of spark, fuel, air, and compression, at the right time and the mixture will burn and drive the piston down to produce a rotational force. Provide all of the right ingredients to the boy at the right time and the boy can reject them. Humans think, physical things do not yet we often lavish far more attention and importance on physical things than we do on the humans around us. Somehow in an effort to provide a better life for our children, we have worked to give them what we thought they should have: more money, bigger and better cars, houses, and careers. Maybe we should have been going back toward less physical things and more emphasis on the human values of life. I'm as guilty as anyone of trying to give my children the Madison Avenue version of what they should have or be reaching for. Maybe it's time to revisit the covers of the Saturday Evening Post and look at the images they portrayed; that's exactly what they were, idealistic images. Like so many TV series of the fifties and sixties, with the perfect families that everyone thought was every other family but their own. They may not be attainable, but they can be reached for, and maybe we'll find some happiness in the attempt.
“Dad, can you do the final torque on these?” Shawn was asking me to finish the rotational pattern of tightening down the head bolts to their final torque so the head gasket won't leak. “Sure, what's the matter, are you ready to call it a night?” “No, I just can't get the indicator up to what it should be.” “Well, step back son and let me take a crack at it. What's the spec?” “Seventy-five foot pounds.” Without thinking I said “Shawn, you're almost sixteen, for your size you should be able to torque these.” “I know Dad, but I just don't have the strength.” His voice was quivering and he looked dejected. “No biggie Bub. We'll dust the weights off and start doing some exercises along with putting the finishing touches on Brutus. OK?” “Sure Dad.” I didn't say anything more about it to Shawn that night, but I made a mental note to get him scheduled to see the doctor as soon as possible. Those old fears from six years ago were coming back.
The car came together over the next few weeks while my world fell apart.
Chapter 3 The Call
I was at work when the doctor called. “Rick, this is Doctor Stevens, we need to do a few more tests to see how Shawn's doing. Can you bring him in today?” We went to the doctor's office and Shawn had some blood drawn. Doctor Stevens said he would call me tomorrow with the results.
utside. If it has a need she's ready to help. I kid her about being my social conscience “if it wasn't for you I'd be in a garage somewhere waxing an exotic sports car.” There's probably more truth to that than either of us would care to admit. She's a wonderful caring person and it's going to be very hard to tell her about Shawn.
Sam and Shawn and I went to the golden arches and, at my suggestion, they each brought a friend. I dreaded spending time alone with them trying to act “normal.” We got home and as luck would have it, being a Friday night, they both got invited to sleep over at friends; of course I agreed; good old Dad was never so easy!
Vicki came home about eight. I was downstairs trying to lose myself in something mindless on TV. I heard the garage door open, the car pull in, and then Vicki was in the room. “Hi I'm home.” “Hi, how was work? Both the kids are sleeping over at friends.” I tried to be casual but as always she knew right away something was wrong. “What is it?” She was curious, not yet overly concerned. I got up and walked over and put my hands on her shoulders and gave her a kiss. “It's Shawn, doctor Stevens called me at work today and apparently Shawn is sicker than they thought. “How much sicker?” Fear in her eyes and voice. “It's cancer.” My hands tightened on her shoulders. “They made a mistake! That's all.” Her lower lip was quivering; she was rapidly losing it. “I know” I said and held her close to me. She cried softly for a few minutes but it seemed like a lifetime of pain and sorrow. We went upstairs and like a zombie, I put water on for tea. The realization of what I had said was sinking in and Vicki was trying to come to grips with it. She sat at our breakfast table with a blank look on her face. “We'll get in touch with the doctor first thing in the morning and see what our options are. Then we'll come up with a plan to make him better.” I was trying to convince both of us that would be some options. The water was boiling and I poured it into the cups and added the tea bags. “Let's go back and get ready for bed. I'll come back and get the tea.” Vicki nodded numbly and walked back toward the bedroom. Shawn's room was on the left and as she neared it she slowed and I started talking to keep her moving. “You know, things will look better in the morning, we've always weathered anything that's come up and we'll come through this OK.” She wasn't talking. She put on a nightgown and went into the bathroom. I went out and got the tea. By the time I got back she was in bed curled up in the fetal position. I put her tea on the nightstand. I set the alarm to get up and call work to tell them I wouldn't be in, then I went into the bathroom. Two minutes later I was back out; I was scared to death to leave her alone. I got into bed and turned out the light. The moment I was dreading had arrived. Like so many things in life, like a moth to a flame, it was unavoidable. We were here, no more busy work, no more distractions, just the two of us facing the longest night of our lives. I looked at her lying on her right side facing me. She was still curled up and she had the first joint of her left index finger clamped tightly in her teeth. Her eyes were wide open and the tears were running down her cheeks. She felt my gaze and her eyes met mine. It was a look of utter desperation, fear, and despair; like a child in a horrible situation looking for deliverance. I couldn't maintain the facade any longer. My eyes filled and I could feel my lower lip start to tremble. We reached for each other at the same time, each comforting the other while trying to deal with the pain in our hearts. The night was spent in each others arms drifting in and out of sleep.
Chapter 4 The Office Visit
t it was enough to lighten his mood so he could deal with the rest of his patients that day.
The first time Shawn was at a friend's, we told Samantha he had cancer; she cried uncontrollably in her room for several hours. When she came out she said “what can I do to help?” She's been a source of strength and encouragement to Shawn ever since; when no one's around she cries. That's how it is with all of us encouraging each other, keeping up a bold front and crying in private. Shawn took it better than any on us. “I can beat this!” he said when told about the second Lab report. For awhile he was an even bigger center of attention on the baseball team than he was before for his ability. After awhile, as his strength began to fade and he slowed down, the other kids would grumble among themselves about plays missed and games lost. Eventually Shawn quit the team over everyone's half-heart-ed encouragement to stay. At night, when Shawn thinks everyone is asleep, he cries in his room. It wasn't until much later I learned that Vicki and Samantha also heard him.
We went on for months working on winning those small, everyday battles, sometimes even believing we were winning the war. But the cancer was taking it's toll; the scales didn't lie and the on-going Lab tests didn't lie. Shawn was slowing being consumed by the cancer and we were powerless to stop it; even slow it down.