When the storm comes Momma gets excited. She runs around the house telling us kids to open up all the windows to “Let God air out the house.”
We do what she says. The breeze usually feels good. But we know its running from a monster. Like the birds did a week before. And the horses prance in circles around their pastures. Animals know when bad weather is coming. Even bees stop buzzing as if they know to hide.
Momma’s just different she looks at the glass half-full.
I sat on the front porch that day in my pajamas. My hair blew in the wind. I watched some neighbors board up their houses. Momma wouldn’t board up the house because neither of us could muscle the plywood nor wield a hammer properly. So we prayed God would keep us safe.
As I sat, I wondered what my old friend, Joon was up to. A few minutes later I saw him make his way down to my porch.
Just as we always do we made simple conversation. Well, I usually let him do most of the talking. I listen. I could tell someone put a few dollars in his pocket. He walked with an extra hip to his step. Someone probably paid him for hammering their plywood.
I liked when he had a little money. At the least he can buy himself a hot meal.
Unfortunate happenings always hit him. He drank. He walked the streets all day. He smelled like a drunk. In a few more years he would be eligible for senior citizen benefits. Which he would probably waste. His wife left him because she couldn’t take the poverty-stricken lifestyle anymore.
Momma gets on him from time to time.
“Joon go cut your grass.” “Treat Rena right, Joon. Do right by that woman.” “Stop drinking so much.” “Go pay your bill.” “Stop being so stubborn.” “Joon you need to stop letting people park their old cars in your yard.”
Joon hates it when Momma preaches to him. He befriends me, because at least I don’t talk back. I guess what she tells him goes in one ear and out the other.
Joon’s a boney man. Yet, he’s stronger than anyone I know.
One day he came under the porch wearing thermal underwear. In mid-August. I told him it was thermal. He insisted it wasn’t. I really was quite sure that it was thermal. Again, he insisted it wasn’t. Momma even came out on the porch and said, “Joon, go take that thermal off and put a t-shirt on.”
“No, ma’am, this ain’t no thermal,” he proclaimed in a defiant tone.
I didn’t want to be disrespectful, ridiculous or not, he’s still my elder.
Without looking, as I wiped sweat off my brow, I just mumbled under my breath, “That shit is thermal.” I sucked my teeth then I let it drop.
Had that would have been a normal person, they would have passed out from heat stroke. Not Joon. He can walk all day without an inkling of arthritis. I never hear him talk about pain. I know his house isn’t clean but he never has a cold or food poisoning.
But let me get back to my story. Well Joon’s unfortunate story. With the storm coming, everyone needed cover. We sat on the porch and Joon told me he was going to the shelter. I figured he would be. It’s just him and his old banged up trailer. I wanted him out of that trailer. It swayed in light wind. The newscaster said Gustav would be a category 4.
I figured the storm would come along and help some people. As Joon talked, I thought about people patching up their already patched up shacks. I figured they probably should at least hope to get it blown down instead of patching some more.
Saving that crap for what? I thought.
Momma would let the storm come through and rip up everything and she would say, “I’ll just go and get a new one.” There’s a blessing in the storm.
Momma had a point. Joon didn’t patch his trailer up because he couldn’t afford the plywood. The plywood probably valued more than his hut. I hoped for him that the storm would take it down. I knew he wouldn’t. I figured that in his state FEMA would help him. I had seen FEMA fix people up. Folks, whose homes were raggedy before the storm, but filed a claim on it and won the award. I liked them because at least they actually took the money and fixed the house up.
The storm came and ripped up everyone’s home. Even Momma’s house took on roof damage. FEMA came out in droves. Some people got help. Some people didn’t. Every day I sat on the porch. Each time in a new pair of pajamas. I watched people get their homes fixed up. Every other house had a roofer on top its structure.
As things started to die down, Joon came back to visit me. I jumped with excitement when I saw him. I figured he would tell me how much FEMA gave him. Then I would put it in his mind to go buy himself a new trailer. I had all kinds of things I wanted to tell him. I had to listen though.
Joon talked to Momma.
Joon said, Mr. FEMA man came for the home inspection.
The man walked in the un kept yard. He walked past the junk cars. He walked past the dead animals. He walked to the broken steps. He opened the rickety door. He followed Joon to the threshold of the door. He smelled the stench of human fecal rot. He backed up. Joon smiled a toothless grin at Mr. FEMA.
“Come on in man, this is my house.”
Mr. FEMA backed up some more.
“Oh, man, come on in,” Joon said.
“Oh, man, turn the lights on,” Mr. FEMA said.
“Ain’t no light,” Joon replied.
“Go ahead on in, my bedroom is in the back,” Joon pointed.
“Man, I’m not going in this house,” Mr. FEMA replied.
Joon stood confused.
Mr. FEMA pulled out his hand held computer and typed in a few things. Joon thought maybe he would get something. Mr. FEMA shook his head no.
Joon stared in utter disbelief.
“Now, Mr. Jarvis, you know and I know, that this is an abandoned house.”
I guess that’s the last thing he wanted to hear. But he really did live there.
