Chapter Six
Richard and Susan’s house was the epitome of an old Florida beach cottage; small yet so full of character anyone would have a hard time not falling in love with all it had to offer. The view of the gulf disappearing over the horizon gave those who enjoyed the sight a sense that they were witnessing their own eternity and embodied a never-ending tranquility. Richard’s great-grandmother purchased the property in 1947. Of her three surviving children, Susanna Towson’s two daughters lived in neighboring communities and the house was conveniently located between the two. At first, Great Sue, as she was called, bought two lots for two hundred and fifty dollars each. When the owner of the two adjacent lots asked if she would take them off her hands, Sue hesitantly agreed. She ended up with nearly a half an acre of gulf front property. It was considered worthless because crops wouldn’t grow in the sugar-white sand. On many occasions Richard wished she were alive so that she could see what a wise investment she had made.
In the year that Richard owned the property, he and Susan tried to use and enjoy it as much as possible. Each time they came they made sure they had a project to complete, but each visit was short, making progress slow. The house required a lot of work to make it livable, but they did not mind. Stephen Talquin handled emergencies. All other jobs were done by the couple working elbow-to-elbow. The investment of their sweat equity gave them a great sense of togetherness.
Richard was outside. He held a garden hose with a bottle of Windex outdoor window cleaner attached to it. Susan was inside painting the concrete block walls white. For decades they had been sea-foam green. She laughed as she rolled white paint onto the wall only to have the green show through a shade light-er. It took several coats to finally cover the old color.
She wore a pair of old faded jeans and a sweat-shirt that ballooned over her torso hiding her sleek build. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail and covered by a red bandana. Susan stopped painting when she de-cided on some noise to keep her company. She walked over to the television in the Florida room and turned it on, changing channels with the remote control. Some-thing on the local access station piqued her curiosity. While focusing intently on the screen, she backed her-self onto a futon sofa that was against a wall on the opposite side of the room. Furrowing her brow she asked aloud, “What are they doing?”
There was an outdoor view of a large gravel parking lot that appeared to be next to a two-lane high-way. Cars and trucks intermittently passed into and out of view of the camera, some moving quickly and some slowing to see what was happening just off the road on which they traveled, apparently showing the same curiosity that dumbfounded Susan.
Outside, the windows of the house were being pounded by the water and cleaner mixture as Richard swept the spray back-and-forth. Susan stood and walked over to the glass that he cleaned. She knocked on the window and motioned for him to come inside. He could not see her through the sheet of water that cascaded down the panes. She moved to the next one and motioned again. He still did not see her. Finally, she walked over and opened the door that led outside. “Come in here, Richard!”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then, let me turn off the water.” He dis-appeared around the side of the house dragging the hose behind him.
Susan moved back to the sofa and sat down again. She continued to watch, making sure to absorb every detail in order to accurately report it to her husband. The back door opened and she could tell that Richard had stopped to wipe his feet on the mat. His footsteps creaked across the old hardwood floors loud-er and louder until he appeared in the interior doorway of the Florida room. Richard found his wife sitting, her unwavering attention focused on the television.
Without looking at her husband, she waved him over to the sofa and patted her hand on the cushion next to her. “You’ve got to see this.”
“What is it?” Richard asked as he sat next to her.
“I think that they’re having a competition to see who can throw that cast net the best.”
Richard raised his eyebrow, “What?” He paused. “What is considered the best?”
Susan smiled and nodded, confirming to herself the understanding that she had gleaned from watching the contest. “They measure the diameter of the net and whoever has the highest score wins … I think.”
The couple sat silently, intrigued by not only the competition, but also the surroundings. Ringed around the parking lot were several large pickup trucks that were parked facing outward. Every tailgate was in the open position. Two or three people sat on each one. Spectators sat in folding chairs in the beds of the trucks and there were others sitting on top of the cabs.
Upon seeing the configuration, Richard re-marked, “Redneck stadium seating!” He laughed at his own joke as he looked to his wife for approval. When she did not respond he shifted his gaze back to the television.
The man officiating the event and the camera-man were one and the same. The video jumped as he tried to talk and film at the same time. After each contestant completed his throw, he yelled in a high-pitched, scratchy, southern drawl, “Alright, who’s next?” The camera panned the crowd searching for the next contestant. It came to rest on a shy young man who refused to look into the lens. “Jimmy, are you next?”
“I have never seen anything like this,” Richard stated, flatly.
The couple continued to watch as someone they assumed to be Jimmy placed his bottle of beer on the tailgate of a truck, walked over to the contestant area and readied himself by slinging the giant, and what appeared to be very heavy, cast net over his shoulder. Four-ounce lead weights were attached to its outer rim at six-inch intervals, covering the entire circumference. The challenger concentrated intently on the task at hand and it showed in his face. He rocked back and forth trying to obtain the maximum momentum without losing his balance. The length of his sway became greater and greater until it appeared he was teetering on default, and only then did he let loose the net. It ballooned open and fell to the ground. When it landed, the momentum caused the net to slide; creating a cloud of dust that billowed into the air and then was quickly carried off screen by the wind.
The loud, high pitched voice from behind the camera yelled, “Oh my! Are you in the four hunerd club?”
Jimmy shrugged off the question without a word and walked bashfully over to the truck where he had been sitting, picked up his bottle of beer and sat down.
“What’s the four hundred, I mean, hunerd club?” Richard asked.
Susan, still not removing her stare from the television screen, said, “The way I have it figured is that it’s a forty foot net. So, if it were to be completely open and spread out on the ground it would cover four hundred and eighty inches.”
“Ah! That makes sense.”
Richard and Susan watched the competition, amused, yet concerned at the same time. When the camera panned the crowd Susan saw, attached to a very long CB antenna, a giant Confederate flag waving stiffly in the breeze.
Pointing at the flag she asked, “Does that bother you?”
He looked at it, processing his thoughts until it disappeared from the screen as the cameraman panned the crowd. “I don’t think so. We can’t say that just be-cause someone is flying a Confederate flag they’re racist. This is the south and people are proud of where they’re from.” The position Richard articulated was done out of hope. “Besides, it’s not the Confederate flag you have to worry about; it’s the racist bastards who drape themselves in it that cause harm.” He be-came uncomfortable and did not want to continue the conversation. “I’ve got to get back to work on the out-side of the house. This is the one day we’ve allowed ourselves to do so and there is a lot of work to do.”
“You’re right,” replied Susan, as they both stood and walked out of the Florida room.
Richard walked outside without saying another word to his wife. He was too deep in thought to bother with pleasantries. What he witnessed was all too familiar to him. The people he saw entertaining themselves reminded him of several people he had counted as friends during his lifetime, as well as family members. He grabbed the end of the hose and slowly dragged it to the front of the house. Moving away from this area of the state over a decade ago had been one of the wisest decisions he ever made. It allowed him to grow beyond what his hometown had to offer, but had it also caused him to forget the truth? His affinity for simple people made the vision of himself as an old man who spent his entire life in this town clinging to outdated values an easy one to conjure.