Turgenev’s novel wrestled with a different focus than my two stories of fathers and sons. I probably came away from Turgenev with a different idea that the pundits. Turgenev dealt with sin and redemption I suppose. He used the relation of fathers and sons to critique the loss of hope (nihilism) in society. My characters wrestle the obligation of love reflected by the dedication, or obligation, of sons to father and mother only within a world of redemption. Maybe this story does in a strained way follow Turgenev’s tact?
I met Hezekiah, Ruth and their son Joseph early last summer. Our case manager liaison had asked me to visit and determine what the state of the house was in order to determine if we could help. I found more than a house in pretty bad shape. I found a story of love and dedication.
There were photographs on the walls that hearkened back to the 1970’s. On the walls hung images of well dressed mother and father with children. Photographs of smiling, newly wed husband and wife. Another contained a fairly young man in military uniform. There were others of newly graduated high school students; some of grandchildren. All the photographs broadcast a fully lived, rich family life. There was a lot of double-knit leisure suits therefore the photographs surely date to the 1970’s.
The house now was darkened. The limited electric power barely allows a window air conditioning unit. There is an old screw-type fuse box with maybe 60 amp service. They have to use a gas stove and hot water heater because more electric appliances blow the fuses. How many of you remember a fuse box?
The walls and ceiling were water stained. Outside soffits had been repaired but only barely. I learned the water damage came from the severely wind damaged roof by Katrina. Insurance had allowed it to be replaced, but only after a deluge of a lot of water. Both Hezekiah and Ruth have had mold-related illness. Ruth and Hezekiah have had heart attacks.
I met Joseph the son that day. He is probably near my age, maybe ten years younger. He came down to help his parents right after Katrina. He gave up a nice business he had started in Chicago and holds two more menial jobs here in town to do it.
Ruth and Hezekiah had applied and been approved for grant application and were notified by the local long term recovery organization that they were qualified but subsequently they were denied funding by the funding agency. This roller coaster experience happened twice over the last three years. Ruth is beaten up by it. She has given up hope of ever seeing the home repaired, "Yes, Mr. Henry, I'll believe we are going to see this house fixed when its done. We've heard all this so many times before."
We went ahead and applied for grant funding. Our first application was almost denied due to questions about lack of enough income. Luckily we were able to add some critical pieces to the application about the commitment Joseph has towards his parents long term care. Thankfully the grant was approved. It was one of my more recently satisfying moments to call Joseph and tell him we had funding.
Our objective is to strip the walls and flooring, rewire, drywall and refurbish. We will have to cover some of the electrical and HVAC costs but it looks really good. We leaped into the work as fast as we could amass volunteers to the job; building piles of stripped interior out in the yard faster than the dumpster people could keep up. Ohio, Indiana, New York, Pennsylvania all helped.
When one spends a lot of time in a home doing this kind of renovation, one learns a lot about family in conversation with the homeowner. Grandparents raised Hezekiah. They lived in this old four room house built of heart pine eighty to one hundred years ago. When we stripped the interior of the house down to it studs, we revealed a double fireplace for living room and front bedroom and a second double chimney for what surely was a wood or coal burning kitchen stove and a potbellied stove in the rear bedroom.
The fireplaces had to be the sole source of heat; there is no central air. It is obvious that gas service was installed much later. The gas came because the only electrical service was an old screw-in fuse box with four circuits rated at about 40 or 60 amps total. They couldn’t run an air conditioner and an electric stove at the same time. Forget a washing machine and dryer.
I don’t know about Hezekiah’s parents. I haven’t been with Hezekiah or Joseph at a good time to ask about them. It is a mystery I hope I will resolve later and fill this detail in.
What image I have of the early years is from details from Hezekiah and Ruth, and later, almost accidentally, by Joseph. After we stripped the walls Hezekiah brought Mrs. Ruth by to see the progress. She says she hasn’t seen that old double fireplace since before she and Hezekiah were married. She insists we keep the fireplaces open.
When we began Joseph said he wanted to enlarge the bathroom, to eliminate a short hallway to increase the size of the bath. The bathroom enlargement seemed difficult and unnecessary to us. We would have to change a lot of plumbing and do extra framing generally making the job a little more complicated.
We discussed this with Hezekiah he quickly agreed with us that this adding unnecessary complications. We left that discussion comfortable that we could revert to the old plan of recreating a better bathroom in the same space. That is, until Joseph dropped by after he got off work.
Joseph had a firm objection to our plan to just redo the existing floor plan. He had a clear objective. As he described his ideas his carried a long-range concept for what this home needed to be was obvious.
He talked about how Hezekiah had taken care of his grandparents when they were very ill and not capable of caring for themselves. He said the bathroom had to be bigger with tub/shower separated from sink and vanity so there was room to maneuver. Maneuver what?
“When my grandparents got really sick, my dad took care of them. He had to bathe them when they got so sick they couldn’t do it by themselves."
I realized he was saying that his grandparents lived in their home well after they could manage daily life, after the time when incontinence soiled both bed and parent. They lived into the time where the gentle hands cleansed both parent and child, one physically and the other spiritually.
Joseph talked about this in such a matter-of-fact way. He wanted that bathroom big enough so it could manage a wheelchair and allow him to clean a parent who probably was still enough in control of faculties to be mortified by the events but so thankfully grateful for a loving son to spare them embarrassment of strangers doing the task. They are a close, loving family and the loving intimacy required to do this was so evidently a natural commitment to parents in need present for both Joseph and Hezekiah in their own times.
I realized there is a profound love and commitment in this African-American family; a truly committed love between son and father and mother. I cannot walk away except to feel daunted by this love. A love that I know is absent in some families of of my protégés; a love that cannot but tear at my own insecurity about facing this eventual difficult fate. Will I have the strength to match this love between this son and parents?
Joseph makes me remember my own pain. I remember sitting in a hospital waiting room of an ICU unit, of sitting with my mother and brother; all of talking with my daddy’s brother about an irreversible decision we faced. I remember hearing my voice distantly agreeing with the others, “Yes I agree. We need to do this.”
I remember subsequently sitting on my father’s bedside in the hospital looking at the ventilator tube taped to his mouth, at the bruise and bandage on his head where he had fallen in the hospital room the night before causing an irreversible hemorrhage; of placing my hand on his startlingly cold skin wondering where the blanket was because he had to be cold; of hearing the doctor say there was no hope due to the hemorrhage; of talking to him telling him through tears of how much I loved him hoping he would hear and hoping for some reaction from him, of memories of all the times we all spent together. All these things washed over me while I talked to him in a low voice because I was inexplicably embarrassed by the near presence of the ICU nursing station. I remember that long goodbye as clearly as if it were happening today.
Joseph, a brother in arms stronger than I am. Joseph is an aspiration for us all and an object lesson in the love of father and son.
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