In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

The Bench by Richard Ettelson im !,ยก? : Outside the Post Office there's a bench worn smooth by a few old men who sit in exactly the same place every day. They come in to pick up the mail and then stay around to gossip for awhile before going back home. This is where their lives take place one o'clock till three. Willis, Mutt and Jack had known each other since school days so they were used to sharing a bench. Mutt was the oldest of the bunch. His wife died years ago and he lived alone in a small white house with four cats and a few chickens that quit laying eggs when he started feeding that old hound some hunters left behind. The others didn't mind listening to his same old stories over and over again. They were very good stories and they all understood how tough it can be on an old man to have no one to tell them to. 16 Willis had a brown stain leaking from the corner of his mouth. His cheek full of chewing tobacco puffed out like a squirrel carrying acorns. Whenever he'd spit Jack would move his foot even though it wasn't necessary. Willis never missed what he aimed at and he liked Jack even if he didn't agree with all that church talk Jack got started on if you let him. Most of the time they told stories about how things used to be. Memories bent easily to their wishes of how things could have been. After so many years spent in the same valley they even looked a little bit the same. Dressed in denim overalls, flannel shirts, beat up boots and duckbilled caps. Worn out from working too hard and not getting much for their trouble. Whenever a woman walked by or a stranger came in to pick up his mail they'd suddenly get quiet and stare off into the weeds until they were alone again. It wasn't because they were unfriendly. It was just their way of being polite. Each took his turn going inside where Edith passed them their mail from under a brass grille like a bank clerk counting out money. The old men knew what was in each envelope without opening it. Seed catalogs, advertisements , the weekly newspaper, bills and towards the end of the month their government checks. Sometimes a letter from their children living somewhere too far away to visit. Other valley men would hang around for awhile standing near the bench but they rarely sat down. The others could have scooted over to make room for one more but they never did. Charley was a newcomer to the valley. Edith told them he was a city boy fixing up the old Bradley place but nobody knew much about him. He was one of the few around who came from someplace else. Every day the young fellow hunkered down near the bench with his back against the wall listening to the old men talk. After awhile they got used to his being there. Having a stranger around put new life into the old stories so they sounded as if they were being told for the first time. Television was always a good source for new material. Charley knew that city living was a lot better and a lot worse than anything they saw on the six o'clock news. It was fun for him to set them straight and the old men enjoyed hearing what they never heard before. As the weeks passed Charley didn't notice when he was repeating a story he already told. The old men just smiled and nodded for him to continue. One day Mutt didn't show up. They buried him next to his wife behind the church. Jack took the chickens and Willis said he'd take care of the dog. There was an empty space on the bench. They kept looking for him to come walking up the road but he never showed up. His mail kept coming, Edith kept sending it back. Expecting him to say something they'd pause to give him a chance, their...

pdf

Share