When I first met Guy, I was on my best behavior. I was meeting both Guy and Conky for the first time because I wanted to move in next door. Next door was right on the other side of their wall. It soon became apparent that these folks were laid back and very cool. Although, I have to admit, Guy was a bit weird. Eventually you adapt to his method of madness. You don’t expect a straight answer and whether or not he is actually kidding is totally besides the point. Let me put this in perspective.
I remember driving down the long rugged dirt driveway for the first time. As I made my way past all of the trees and shrubs, over the rocks and through the ditches, I parked in front of huge barn. It was like I left Long Island and the 20th century. I was introduced to Conky since she was the one who took care of all the business and she asked me the regular questions. But really, it seemed more as a matter of tradition. I don’t think she really cared what my last name was or where I worked. If the folks next door suggested me and I didn’t do anything to outright offend her right there, I think I was as good as in. And then she introduced me to Guy, her husband. As I extended my arm to shake his hand, I said, “Hi, how are you.” He barely accepted my handshake and got directly to the point.
“Do you play pool?”
“Umm.. yeah, I know how… I’m not very good but I like to.”
“Do you have any money?”
“Na, I’m not that good, I don’t play for money.”
He was inching towards me never taking his eyes from mine. I became a bit uncomfortable and so like I always do, I began to grin and I think that only egged him on.
“Do you have any money? Any change at all?”
Before I could say anything, he was tapping my front pockets and sure enough, he heard the jingle of change.
“A-ha!” he said with a smile.
With that, he proceeded to put his hands inside my pockets and reach for the change he heard.
“Guy! Knock it off- you’re scaring him!” Conky chimed in. I wasn’t sure what to think of the situation. It was quite a greeting! We wound up playing a game of pool. He won the game and the 50 cents in my pocket.
Guy was quite a character. You couldn’t have read about a more interesting person in a science fiction novel. To me, he was part of the farm. His quirkiness seeped from him and into the earth. His presence is now forever ingrained in the bark on the trees, the waves that lap the shore and most noticeably, the handywork around the barns. But I wouldn’t doubt that he still roams about like the others that have preceded him. Rumors and myths combine but I for one can concur that spirits here, don’t leave entirely.
Guy could easily make you laugh. And if he laughed at something I said or did, it most surely made my day. He was slow and deliberate with his method. I’ve never seen him rush. He took great care in good conversation and in being hospitable. However, this would never stop him from being blunt or blatently honest. I don’t think he ever did mean to offend but sometimes he would say the most offensive things. But most of the times, he knew exactly what he was saying and doing. One time, he learned my last name and then just plainly said, “I hate Italians. Italians are the worst!” He said it just to get under my skin- to see how I’d react. It was all an experiment to him- just a curious venture. When I agreed with him, I think he was more disappointed that there would be no exciting rebuttal. However, he also conceded that the English had little to offer.
And isn’t it true that the strangest things happen to the strangest of people.
One summer, I was waking up to the sound of gun shots. As it turns out, the barn in the back had a flock of pigeons making their home in the clocktower. So naturally, there was a competition to see who could shoot the most pigeons. These nasty ugly loud obnoxious birds caused harm to the barn and we weren’t going to sit idly by. So the end of the summer comes near and the scores are pretty high. I don’t remember what exactly they were but I’m pretty sure some people had about 20 kills, others around 30. Whatever it was, it seemed that they certainly put a good dent in the pigeon population of Thatch Meadow Farm. So I’m hanging out one Friday night and Guy comes home from painting. He comes up to me and says “You’re never going to believe what I saw.” Now, Guy could have said a lot of things and he probably would have been right- I wouldn’t have believed him. But I did believe him. He goes on,
“I’m right around the block. It’s about 6:30 in the morning and I’m reading the paper before I have to go to work like I always do, when I see this truck pull in.”
I should mention before I go on that when Guy told a story, it usually took an extraordinarily long amount of time. Every word was very delibrate and there were many pauses- partly for tension and drama, partly for thought gathering.
“I think nothing of it” Guy continues, “and I go back to reading the paper. But then the guy steps out of the truck, goes around to the back and… you know how some pickups have like a large cap on the bed of the pickup, you know, like the kind with a door that opens, like with a door knob- a real big tall cap.”
I nod.
“Well anyway, he opens the door and all of these pigeons come flying out! I’m like, ‘For Christ’s Sake! More pigeons!!’ Where the hell is he getting these pigeons and why the hell is he importing more of ‘em!”
I had to laugh. This could only have been witnessed by Guy.
And to not make mention of Guy’s Ping-Pong.. err… excuse me… Table Tennis playing, would most certainly be a mistake. During the summer nights, his screams of enthusiasm, his paddle hitting the table in anxious victory and the steady rhythm of a good volley became a most welcome noise of summer. And he was eerily good at pool too.
I am going to miss Guy. He sure made an impression on me. I will never forget him. We had a few things in common and I think we always kept good company of each other. The last time I’d seen him, we shared some pickles that he got somewhere. He wouldn’t tell me where though. He said that these were the best pickles on the island. They were really good. He said to come again soon- more frequently than I had been- and that he’d have more pickles for me. I said ok. But as it goes, I can only wish that I had taken him up on the offer.
Good ol’ Guy.