Long ago and far away…
Ray was, as usual, on top of the world…or to be more accurate, he was on the top of his world.
Ray listened, learned, and came to believe that the top of the world was neither a geographical nor a social location, but a state of mind. He had good health, fun friends, a job he didn’t dread going to, an affordable downtown apartment in an interesting city, sufficient free time and enough financial security to get by on for his lifestyle.
He was smart enough to realise it and was wise enough to appreciate it. Ray never thought of his past or his future unless it brought him, or others, laughter and pleasure.
Katrina was fond of studying people and making mental sketches of them. She believed Ray’s appearing to be genuinely happy attracted people like a magnet; he made them laugh and openly enjoyed their company that made them feel good about themselves. His self-confidence that attracted people didn’t extend to egomania that repelled them.
Peter said he had given up trying to describe why Ray was so fun and fascinating to be with…he just was…
As they said in the army,
‘Never think about it, just enjoy it’.
Ray was simply summer lightning in a glowing bottle incarnate.
Once Katrina popped into Rico’s for a late weekday afternoon cup of coffee and shared a booth with him during a quiet period. Rico was in a happy talkative mood, unlike when he was trading insults with the Down and Outers or frantically working as he was too cheap to hire more staff.
She hoped she wouldn’t destroy his jovial mood when she asked why he didn’t like Ray.
He calmly answered that he had worked long and hard and lived on the edge of financial abyss to have his own restaurant, yet when Ray sat down inside his place, everyone thought he owned it, not Rico.
There was nothing to envy about Ray if you worshipped wealth or power. He gave the feeling that he could easily do without either one.
There were those who became hangers-on of his gang to learn his secret. Surely, he had to be rich, or a criminal making money behind the scenes, but Ray had no interest in accumulating money, power, or ego. Those that desired those things for themselves soon left the gang. His gang and the other hangers-on were loyal to him and backed him against anyone trying to usurp his role of top banana to turn the gang into petty criminals.
Ray’s employer knew his strengths and limitations; he was so adept at avoiding work without being caught that they made him a supervisor to keep others from doing so. He was a group leader at his workplace and a squad leader in his National Guard outfit that Stash and Peter belonged to.
Stash was fascinated by Ray’s leadership skills as in the civil service only suck-ups and management cheerleaders were allowed to supervise. Ray was a leader, not a manager, and he would always go to bat for his team without visibly antagonising his managers or the officers, in public anyway. In return, he did his best to honestly defend management, for no one could call them Ray’s ‘superiors’. However, standing up for your men led you to be marked ‘never to be promoted’. Ray described middle management as being ‘the meat in the sandwich’.
Without sounding like Mr. Know-It-All, he could humorously and engagingly hold forth on any topic, except one. Katrina found he would never discuss his former marriage, unlike Rico who always complained about his wife. Ray once told her,
‘Her life didn’t turn out the way she wanted it to, and she blamed me. When my mother doesn’t know what to do, she rearranges the furniture. When wives don’t know what to do, they rearrange their domestic arrangements.’
Ray completed his employer’s errand at the bank and had enough time for a coffee break before returning to work. After finishing his coffee and repartee with the waitress and other customers at the dimestore luncheonette, he placed his money on the counter.
‘Hay-Heyyyyy, Ray!’
He looked across to one of the booths to see the face of the man who had spoken.
‘Jackson!’
He moved quickly to sit down with his high school number one buddy. Jackson and he were inseparable companions, always cracking jokes and playing pranks, but smart enough to not go too far or to be caught.
‘When did you get back in town?’
‘The other day, Ray. I just stopped in to see my folks. I couldn’t find your telephone number, so I went by your place. Your folks said they’d let you know I was around whenever they’d see you again.’
Ray lived in a small apartment downtown and only used pay telephones or made personal visits so was hard to contact.
‘I’ve got to dash back to work; how long are you in town for?’
‘I’m leaving this afternoon to Chicago by train, I’ll spend the night there, then tomorrow I’m catching the Super Chief to L.A.!’
‘The Super Chief!’, Ray beamed in wonder, ‘Santa Fe, all the way!’
‘My luggage is checked in to Chicago, so I don’t have to lug it around…Look, let’s meet here for lunch, then you can come with me to the train station!’
Ray smiled his engaging conspiratorial grin that made whoever he was talking to believe that they were sharing a fun secret together. Whether it was skipping school to go fishing, dodging duty to go to town, wagging work to go to a ball game, or only sharing a cup of coffee together, it was just the two of them, together against the world, and the pair would always come out on top…
‘We’re in the groove, Jackson! What time?’
Ray made it back to work with enough of an excuse to explain his absence. Just like an executive, he was granted a long lunch to see off his old friend.
The pair caught up at the same booth at the dimestore luncheonette. Reminiscing over lunch, they royally relived their school shenanigans and remembered the characters they laughed at and with.
They walked to the station on a typically gloomy overcast Midwestern afternoon. Ray wore his usual conservative suit and fedora, his buddy was attired in a plaid sports coat, loud tie and trilby as if he was off to the races. Jackson related his life story after high school where he had flunked out of university then kicked around the USA. He had just visited his parents before his master plan to hit Hollywood. Ray didn’t speak; he realised if he had, his life since high school would take only a few seconds to tell…
Their small industrial city’s Chicago-Northwestern Railroad station at the end of Washington Street had a wood-panelled upper level with a stunning view of the city’s harbour, breakwater and lighthouse on Lake Michigan. When one watched the sailboats and white caps on a blue day it took a lot of self-discipline to be able to return to work…However, the view you couldn’t see from the railway station were the smoke-belching factories that bordered the harbour and beach.
------ TO BE CONTINUED------