Ripe Tangerines

 A short collection of journal entries in memory of Oliver. From 1982-85, when I found the time to write. Past memories are often the warmest.

Melancholy (adj.): Ma told me the meaning of this word the day after the funeral. I had read it in a chapter book – “The Black Pearl,” I believe it was called – and she told me it meant “sad”. I didn’t need another word for that, I told her.

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18th of March, 1962 – The day I was born. It was a glorious day, according to Ma. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the sky was clear as could be. The house was all decorated in baby blue, with blankets and streamers and such, and all the family was there to watch baby me pop out and make a hissy fit. Ma said little Oliver would look over my crib and poke my nose and watch me giggle at him. Or sometimes he’d stick his finger in my face and I’d suck it like it was a bottle. When we weren’t fooling around, we were good boys. Even Pa told folks we had the makings of two nice Southern gentlemen.

Jovial (adj.): this word meant “happy”, but not like the regular kind. This was happy like you were minding your own business and found a quarter on the road, or your favorite television program was about to come on, or when Grandma Nellie and Grandpa Sal came to visit. You were so giddy you could jump to the clouds almost.

Summer, 1972 – I was only ten years old, but I was usually asked to be the man of the home. Pa would go on long trips for business – up to Atlanta or Charleston – and wouldn’t tell us when he’d come back. Sometimes, he’d be gone for weeks at a time. We were from Perry, Georgia, my Ma, my Pa, my brother Oliver and I, and we were cooped up in this green, rustic house at the top of Forrest hill. It had these big wooden doors, and I remember the paint been peeling off on some of the walls on account of Pa forgetting to lay a fresh coat since he fixed up the whole place a few Summers ago. Summers in Georgia were hot and sticky, and when it was too boiling to play ball, Oliver and I would make lemonade and sip it under the cool of the Oak tree near our house.

Summer Solstice (n.): this is the day during the summer when the sun stays high for the longest, at least that’s what Ma told us. After playing all afternoon, Oliver and I would come home and listen to Uncle Bob play country tunes on his fiddle. We would dance ‘round and ‘round ‘til we made ourselves silly, and when it got dark, we’d run and try to catch fireflies between our hands. Oliver and I would keep playing and dancing ’til Uncle Bob was too tired and had to give his old fingers a rest.

Spring, 1970-1981 - Every Spring, before the first flower had popped its head through the soil in our garden, Oliver and I would play ball near the tangerine trees, all the way down the bottom of the hill next to Mrs. Clarence’s place. Baseball was always our favorite – Grandpa Sal got us into it, you could say. He played in the minors in the 40’s, and was always giving us tips when he’d come over. Grandpa Sal would name all the old guys he played with who we’d never heard of: “Sparky, boys, he was fast as lightning. He didn’t even need shoes- he’d beat you square in a race. And Bob Feller, and Dizzy, they blew it by the best of them, even ol’ Ted. You won’t see talent like that in the sport of baseball again, not ever boys,” and Grandpa Sal would laugh and wag his finger at us. Once I finished the second grade, Grandpa Sal gave us our first baseball equipment. “You boys will scoop the balls up like Lou and hit ‘em like Teddy Ballgame once yous practice enough,” he said as he gave us our first ball and bat, and a glove apiece. I was eight at the time, and Oliver wasn’t yet thirteen. I think we played every Spring and Summer day that year. And then the eleven or so years after.

Tangerine (n.): an orange fruit that grew on trees near the bottom of the hill. They pitched pretty good like a baseball, too. Well, good enough. Once, when Oliver was hitting, he hit the baseball Grandpa Sal gave us so high it got lost and we couldn’t find it. Oliver was one of the better ball-players I’d ever seen; he could hit the outside pitch to Main Street, or turn on the inside one and hit it to our front porch. He also had these soft hands for catching balls in the dirt, and could spin a curve like no other. Anyway, after Oliver lost our real baseball, we sat to thinking and chanced that a tangerine could work all right. It did! We were diggin’ our nails in the tangerine and throwing junk stuff to each other, and if one of us hit it real good, the fruit would splatter all over the damn place. Once we built a strike-zone, it made it easy to see where the ball landed, so as to make sure neither of us was lying if it was too much off the plate.

April Vacation, 1975 – Spring vacation was the best time of the year, since all of us from Perry Lower could stay out all day and play tangerine ball. The tangerines were always the ripest during this one week for some reason. They’d explode all over the place, ‘specially when Oliver stepped in the box. By this time, Oliver and I were pretty good at ball, and started playing with the other kids from school. We made bases out of cardboard and placed them on the dirt a little ways away from the trees. If we ever needed a new tangerine, we’d run back over and hoist one another up to grab a fresh one of the branches. Mrs. Clarentine was real nice about it, even though they were her trees and all. I guess she liked watching us boys play, since she had no kids of her own or anythin’.

Screwball (n.): A pitch that spins left to right. You grip it with your pinky and ring finger, forming a circle, and put your other three fingers on top. Lenny Johnson, a skinny kid from Perry Lower, had a pretty good one. Oliver told me I had a pretty nice one, too.

Fall, 1979 – Grandpa Sal passed away this year. He was real old, and Ma said he died in his sleep. Oliver and I cried a lot for a while, since Grandpa Sal meant so much to us and all. Oliver told me God gave every one of his children on earth a specific time to go to heaven, but didn’t tell us when, of course. He did that so we’d make the most of our time living.

Tumult (n.): I learned this one from Ms. Kingsley, my seventh grade homeroom teacher. She said it means alotta hollering and disorder, as if something bad or surprising just happened.

Winter, 13th of December, 1980 – Oliver’s accident happened in the Winter of 1980. It was a real rainy day, the 13th of December to be exact. I was eighteen, and Oliver was about to turn twenty, as his birthday fell on the 16th of the month. Oliver and I were hiking this trail to get to our pal Pete’s house – as we had done many a times before – but it was pretty dark this time, and things just didn’t feel right. I going pretty fast and turning the corner past the Oak tree when I heard something suddenly and looked back and…well, I’d rather not get into it. I don’t really wanna feel that pit in my stomach again. Soon enough, there were ambulances and everything, and Oliver went to the hospital for a while.

Inculcate (v.): to teach somebody something, like lots of words or math things, so they never forget ‘em.

January, 1981 – After the doc let Oliver come home, Ma told me to keep a special eye on him. “Always keep him in your sights, Andy,” she would say. I looked out for Oliver, alright. Even though he was older than me, I was glad to have the responsibility, ‘specially when Pa was gone. Ma told me to help him with stuff, various chores and such: practicing vocabulary and other school work, delivering newspapers around town, walking to the grocer to buy milk and eggs for morning meals, collecting firewood for the winter. It wasn’t too much of a bother, I thought. Oliver couldn’t be counted on to do that stuff by himself.

Vocab (n.): short for vocabulary. The words you need to learn to pass the primary test to get into Perry High School.

1981-1982: I helped Oliver get accepted to Perry High. I practiced those words every day with him, and did the math tables, and talked to him about history. I was pretty good at it all, since I entered Perry High only a year prior. I think Oliver absorbed most of it all right, but he had trouble learning it once and remembering it. He was always forgetting things. He went to the hospital to get a check-up every few weeks, and the doctors said he’d been getting worse recently, even though he was in high spirits.

Tranquility (n.): When you’re calm, and have found peace with things. Finally.

May 21st, 1982: The Summer before Oliver’s first year at Perry High, he passed away. I remember Ma crying a lot, and Pa shaking his head a lot and looking in the distance, and me just shaking in sadness. Oliver was too young, but I’ll always remember the things I loved about him. How he was always the first person to cheer somebody up. How he never wore nothing ‘cept his blue overalls, unless he was going to Church. How he passed his last geometry test after weeks of teaching him. And how he was a damn good ball player.