| General Fiction posted April 19, 2024 | Chapters: |
...12 13 -14- 15... 
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Finally get to really meet Ben Paul Persons
A chapter in the book Right in the Eye
Right in the Eye, ch 14
by Wayne Fowler
In the last part Slim and Mary get to Santa Rosa, California, in time to attend Ben Paul Persons (81 years old) preach his last sermon. They accepted an invitation to his house.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
We waited until he had the table set, cold ham slices, a serving of potato salad split three ways, and what looked like homemade bread and some butter. I could see most of a pie sitting on the counter. I was glad for the small portions of the meal. We didn’t come to eat, anyway.
“Reverend Persons …” We’d exchanged names on the church steps, but that was all.
“Ben. Ben. I knew your father. I saw his eyes widen, but it wasn’t disbelief, it was wonder. "He saved my life.”
Ben chuckled as he handed me the piece of bread he’d buttered. “Your eye,” he said as he extended his hand. “Try this. My sister made it from my mother’s recipe.”
It was delicious. I couldn’t wait to get to the pie.
“Slim, my father has saved and helped a great many people. But I’ve never had the privilege of meeting any of them. Well, one maybe. La Lama. The Blade.”
“It was in 1886. Now hold on to your silver ‘cause this’s gonna be tough ta hear like it was tough fer me half an hour ago.
“I was all broke up on top of a mountain with a buzzard ‘bout ta eat my good eye when your daddy shot that bird outta the sky from a hunnerd yards down the mountainside. He got me offa there somehow and to a doctor. Then to a sanitarium where I laid for eighty years.
“Now you c’n call me a liar, but by the God that you interduced me to back at the altar of yer church, it’s the truth.”
He sat there tearin’ up.
I nodded to Mary.
“Pastor, two-and-a-half months ago, I stabbed my ex-husband in the back with a butcher knife. Twice. He was killing Slim.”
I mean to tell you! That old man jumped outta his chair an’ spun like a top, praisin’ God, his hands high over his head. I feared for his life.
We both told him everything we knew, which wasn’t much. All I really had was how Ben talked while gettin’ me put in that nursing home.
Then it was his turn. He told us what his mother had told him: Colorado, Chicago, San Francisco, the road north, Alaska, and back here to Santa Rosa where she never remarried, but after a couple trips to St Louis to help friends of Ben, adopted a local girl. They baked pies for a roadside stand, and a few shops and restaurants. Ben didn’t speak of shootin’ a man dead with a shotgun when he was twelve helpin’ those St. Louis friends. Not then, anyway.
Ben told us about all the kids at the church, the Jesus Revolution, he called it, showed a magazine article of it on the front cover.
Ben wanted to hear the rest of our stories, the current stuff.
I told him about a crave to know the one Ben, his father, was talkin’ to like he was his friend. That got a fistful a’ tears and a sob outta the old man.
He turned to Mary. “And you needed forgiveness, though the law found it justified.”
Mary nodded to rattle her brain. “Thank you,” she said.
“Not me. The one who now lives in your heart. Let’s pray again. We did. He did mostly – just like I’d heard Ben do … talkin’ to God like he was right there, like he was his friend, praisin’ him for saving and forgiving Mary, and for keeping me alive so’s Ben Paul could meet me.
Oh, my Lord, them Ben Personses! I was wishin’ there was one in every town, in every church, on every street corner.
Then I thought: there is. Jesus, the same one as Ben had given his whole life to, was there, everywhere I wanted him to be.
We said our goodbyes. Hugged enough to near fall down. Ben said he might take a train to Creede, meet that Sylvia woman.
I hope he did. She’d like to meet the son of the man that her grandmother loved, the son of the man who was loved by near ever’body that knew him.
+++
“Honey!” Mary was starin’ at my face. We were gettin’ ready to head back to Cerrillos. Home. “Look in the mirror.”
“Well, I’ll be!” My mustache was completely white. Not even a stage of changing, like salt and pepper, and then all gray. “Darlin’, maybe this means that I’ll age right along with you! Won’t that be great?”
Mary smiled. I don’t think she was in a hurry for me to wither away, but me looking like I was her son didn’t sit good, either.
We took the mountain and Death Valley route home. It was fun. I told Mary some mountain and western stories. She told me a lot of stories about cultural changes I’d missed. We decided to take more road trips.
When we got home, there was some mail from the Halleck Law offices. They were going to help me get identification. We might have to drive to Arkansas, but that would be all right.
I took up a hobby prospectin’. Ain’t that a funny one? Seriously, I was just foolin’ around and in the canyons in the hills above the cemetery, I knocked away a chunk of sandstone, and behind it was a bit of turquoise. Then a bit more. I worked it a bit, and Mary bought me one of those polisher things, like a spinning buffer contraption. She liked the stones.
Of course, I had my eye out for gold. Who wouldn’t. You never know where a foot-wide vein might show itself. Hah!
Mary came and saw my dig. Whooie, boy! About twenty feet down and no timbering supports, just deadwood laddering. I thought she was mad enough to chuck a stick of dynamite down after me.
“Oh, all right. You’re right, Mary.” So a stick of dynamite went in there, but I was with Mary around the side.
Ka-boom.
After the dust settled, we picked up gold nuggets for half an hour, just lookin’ at each other while doin’ it, each of us sportin’ a hint of a grin.
Ah, Mary, I do love that gal!
In the last part Slim and Mary get to Santa Rosa, California, in time to attend Ben Paul Persons (81 years old) preach his last sermon. They accepted an invitation to his house.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
We waited until he had the table set, cold ham slices, a serving of potato salad split three ways, and what looked like homemade bread and some butter. I could see most of a pie sitting on the counter. I was glad for the small portions of the meal. We didn’t come to eat, anyway.
“Reverend Persons …” We’d exchanged names on the church steps, but that was all.
“Ben. Ben. I knew your father. I saw his eyes widen, but it wasn’t disbelief, it was wonder. "He saved my life.”
Ben chuckled as he handed me the piece of bread he’d buttered. “Your eye,” he said as he extended his hand. “Try this. My sister made it from my mother’s recipe.”
It was delicious. I couldn’t wait to get to the pie.
“Slim, my father has saved and helped a great many people. But I’ve never had the privilege of meeting any of them. Well, one maybe. La Lama. The Blade.”
“It was in 1886. Now hold on to your silver ‘cause this’s gonna be tough ta hear like it was tough fer me half an hour ago.
“I was all broke up on top of a mountain with a buzzard ‘bout ta eat my good eye when your daddy shot that bird outta the sky from a hunnerd yards down the mountainside. He got me offa there somehow and to a doctor. Then to a sanitarium where I laid for eighty years.
“Now you c’n call me a liar, but by the God that you interduced me to back at the altar of yer church, it’s the truth.”
He sat there tearin’ up.
I nodded to Mary.
“Pastor, two-and-a-half months ago, I stabbed my ex-husband in the back with a butcher knife. Twice. He was killing Slim.”
I mean to tell you! That old man jumped outta his chair an’ spun like a top, praisin’ God, his hands high over his head. I feared for his life.
We both told him everything we knew, which wasn’t much. All I really had was how Ben talked while gettin’ me put in that nursing home.
Then it was his turn. He told us what his mother had told him: Colorado, Chicago, San Francisco, the road north, Alaska, and back here to Santa Rosa where she never remarried, but after a couple trips to St Louis to help friends of Ben, adopted a local girl. They baked pies for a roadside stand, and a few shops and restaurants. Ben didn’t speak of shootin’ a man dead with a shotgun when he was twelve helpin’ those St. Louis friends. Not then, anyway.
Ben told us about all the kids at the church, the Jesus Revolution, he called it, showed a magazine article of it on the front cover.
Ben wanted to hear the rest of our stories, the current stuff.
I told him about a crave to know the one Ben, his father, was talkin’ to like he was his friend. That got a fistful a’ tears and a sob outta the old man.
He turned to Mary. “And you needed forgiveness, though the law found it justified.”
Mary nodded to rattle her brain. “Thank you,” she said.
“Not me. The one who now lives in your heart. Let’s pray again. We did. He did mostly – just like I’d heard Ben do … talkin’ to God like he was right there, like he was his friend, praisin’ him for saving and forgiving Mary, and for keeping me alive so’s Ben Paul could meet me.
Oh, my Lord, them Ben Personses! I was wishin’ there was one in every town, in every church, on every street corner.
Then I thought: there is. Jesus, the same one as Ben had given his whole life to, was there, everywhere I wanted him to be.
We said our goodbyes. Hugged enough to near fall down. Ben said he might take a train to Creede, meet that Sylvia woman.
I hope he did. She’d like to meet the son of the man that her grandmother loved, the son of the man who was loved by near ever’body that knew him.
+++
“Honey!” Mary was starin’ at my face. We were gettin’ ready to head back to Cerrillos. Home. “Look in the mirror.”
“Well, I’ll be!” My mustache was completely white. Not even a stage of changing, like salt and pepper, and then all gray. “Darlin’, maybe this means that I’ll age right along with you! Won’t that be great?”
Mary smiled. I don’t think she was in a hurry for me to wither away, but me looking like I was her son didn’t sit good, either.
We took the mountain and Death Valley route home. It was fun. I told Mary some mountain and western stories. She told me a lot of stories about cultural changes I’d missed. We decided to take more road trips.
When we got home, there was some mail from the Halleck Law offices. They were going to help me get identification. We might have to drive to Arkansas, but that would be all right.
I took up a hobby prospectin’. Ain’t that a funny one? Seriously, I was just foolin’ around and in the canyons in the hills above the cemetery, I knocked away a chunk of sandstone, and behind it was a bit of turquoise. Then a bit more. I worked it a bit, and Mary bought me one of those polisher things, like a spinning buffer contraption. She liked the stones.
Of course, I had my eye out for gold. Who wouldn’t. You never know where a foot-wide vein might show itself. Hah!
Mary came and saw my dig. Whooie, boy! About twenty feet down and no timbering supports, just deadwood laddering. I thought she was mad enough to chuck a stick of dynamite down after me.
“Oh, all right. You’re right, Mary.” So a stick of dynamite went in there, but I was with Mary around the side.
Ka-boom.
After the dust settled, we picked up gold nuggets for half an hour, just lookin’ at each other while doin’ it, each of us sportin’ a hint of a grin.
Ah, Mary, I do love that gal!
Ben P. Persons: 81-year-old son of Ben Persons
Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great-granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Martha Crawley: Livvy's daughter, Sylvia's mother
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10098448/ (Jesus revolution movie)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus_Revolution
https://time.com/6291376/jesus-revolution-time-magazine-cover/
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Slim Goldman (Herschell Diddleknopper): miner who Ben (senior) rescued in 1886
Mary Diddleknopper: Slim's wife, great-granddaughter of LouAnne (Slim's girlfriend from the1870s)
Sylvia Adams: grand-daughter of Livvy and William Ferlonson
Martha Crawley: Livvy's daughter, Sylvia's mother
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10098448/ (Jesus revolution movie)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jesus_Revolution
https://time.com/6291376/jesus-revolution-time-magazine-cover/
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