26. Yearning

1951 Buick Roadmaster Convertible

On warm May afternoons in the distant past, I'd stand daydreaming in the back window of our downtown Catholic high school, busy at the pencil sharpener, pointing and re-sharpening enough pencils to last until college, and gazing out across the street to where a neighboring salesman always parked his yellow 1951 Buick Roadmaster convertible.  It was such a beautiful car, a giant throbbing land rocket with deep leather seats that made you want to jump in and tear your clothes off … if you were a sixteen year old boy.  And I'd yearn to take Mary Immaculata O'Toole for a ride in that dream machine, while we played the radio and listened to Johnny Mathis.  I didn't like Johnny Mathis, but I figured Mary Mac would.  And in the unlikely event she tore off her clothes,  the radio could play The Battle Hymn of The Republic, for all I cared. 

Sister Mary Monstrance snapped me out of my reverie with the call of my name.  She would endure my grinding away a forest of wood products for only so long.  And now,  would I please take my seat and attend to academic matters during this last study period of the day.

“How you expect to ever accomplish anything is a mystery to me, young man,”  she offered. 

Me too, I thought. 

“You need to concentrate on what’s important,” said the old nun.   I hoped that some day I could.

I returned to my desk, where I sat squirming with eager anticipation for the final bell, like an astronaut waiting for the countdown to reach zero. Then, shot out of my seat to land on the streets of downtown, I would search for Mary Mac.  But when I found her, I ignored her.  I was too shy to start a conversation.  A youthful Casanova stifled by the daunting task of small talk.  A price I was evidently unwilling to pay, when I could daydream for free.

When I told this story to Bouncer one afternoon as we were cleaning out another backed up toilet, he asked, “And do you still yearn for her?”

“She was the most gorgeous sight I’ve ever seen,” I said.  “Beautiful curves, luscious upholstery, and a snappy set of headlights.”

“The girl or the car?” he asked.

“Even after all these years,” I said, “I’m not sure I can separate them.”

"Pass the plunger," said Bouncer. 


In Dreams - Roy Orbison