P.J.: A Memoir
Chapter Twenty
“The best view of Manatee is in the rear view mirror.”
- Benny Dowd
The wrangling necessary to come up with a solution was reminiscent of a Democratic Party caucus, but the details eventually emerged. P. J., Benny and Molly Kathleen would fly to Colorado where Uncle Billy would meet them. Sarah Effie would remain to finish the school year and then drive out to join them next summer. Aunts Judith and Elizabeth, however, would not be budged from the old Jimson mansion. They vowed to remain until they were carried out toes up. Judith and Elizabeth could take care of themselves quite well, thank you very much. They had no intention of running off to some savage frontier homestead where the Indian wars were undoubtedly still going on. It was clear to them that the entire family had taken leave of its senses.
The impending move wrought a remarkable change in Benny. He stopped drinking entirely. There was a gleam in his eyes that P. J. had never seen before. Before they left, Benny took P. J. to the big Sears and Roebuck store in Tampa where they outfitted themselves with western shirts, blue jeans, cowboy boots and hats. It was an exciting trip for P. J. who had not ventured out of the yard since the beating. He was gradually coming to the conclusion that they were actually going to Colorado. Before the trip to Tampa, it had seemed like just another fantasy.
The afternoon before they were to leave, P. J. wandered over to where Blind Poppa Roberts’ little house used to stand. It was the first time he had ventured near there since the hurricane. All that remained was a small square of bare ground where the sandspurs were already beginning to encroach. He sat on the stump of the oak that had fallen on the cottage and looked out across the placid Manatee. One of his long talks with Poppa came unbidden to his mind.
“Boy,” Poppa had said, “don’t you sit around this tired ol’ town for the rest of yo’ life. There ain’t nothin’ for you here. You get out and see the world. There’s places out there you haven’t even dreamed of. Things to do, people to meet, songs to sing. You get old enough, you take yo’ git-fiddle and you hit the road. Do it while you young or you’ll regret it when you old.”
P. J. swore a silent oath to Blind Poppa Roberts that Colorado would be just the beginning. He got off the stump and gazed toward the swamp through a soft-focus filter of tears. It occurred to him that he should feel sad about leaving this place where he had spent so many hours acting out his boyish fantasies. There was no sadness; just an empty place where Poppa and Sally Beals had been.
P. J. wandered up First Avenue past the old Jimson mansion and up Col. Parkins’ driveway. He knocked on the door of the big house. Constance Parkins greeted P. J. and led him into the Colonel’s study. Parkins looked up from a book.
“It’s that time, is it?” said the Colonel. “I’m going to miss you, lad.”
P. J. suddenly had a big lump in his throat.
“Well, we’ve had some times, haven’t we, P. J.? You remember those good times and before you know it, I might just show up for a visit out there in Colorado. That’s beautiful country you’re going to.”
The Colonel had a faraway look in his eyes.
“One thing I want you to do for me, lad, and that is never forget the dream you have about reaching for the stars. You may never get to the stars, but you’ll never go wrong as long as you are reaching.”
The Colonel got up and walked over to his collection of rocks and minerals.
“Just so you won’t forget, I want you to have something.”
The Colonel pulled open a drawer and removed the small brownish rock he had gotten from Meteor Crater in Arizona. He held it out to P. J.
“Keep this with you, lad, and don’t lose it. It’ll remind you of the dream.”
P. J. took the rock, then threw his arms around the old soldier. He was too emotional to speak. After a time, Parkins gently disengaged himself and led P. J. to the door.
“You have a safe flight tomorrow, lad, and we’ll see each other before too long.”
P. J. started down the driveway, then turned and looked back to where the Colonel was watching him leave. P. J. straightened and threw the Colonel a snappy salute.
“Goodbye…Grandpa!”
P. J. stumbled toward home, nearly blind from his tears. He knew now that he could go to sleep because he had finally found the sadness of leaving that had eluded him earlier.
As he lay in bed that night, P. J. wished that the “fogging machine” would come by. That would be a fitting end to his time in Manatee. He watched the shadows cast by the streetlight shining through the oaks and wondered what snow would be like. When the “fogging machine” finally came by, P. J. was sound asleep.
P. J. woke long before dawn with an artesian well of excitement bubbling within him. He knew there would be no more sleep this day. He busied himself with the agonizing task of what to take and what to leave behind. There was a severe limit to how much he could take on the plane and the boy was faced with some truly Hobsonian choices. There was no question that the National guitar would go with him. His other guitar had been at Poppa Roberts’ house and had not survived the hurricane. He pulled the dobro from its case and strummed some soft chords.
Wish that northbound freight would come
And take me to I don’t know where.
Stayin’ here is kinda dumb
When I could be goin’ there.
Ride them rails,
Drink that booze,
Got the stayed around too long
Worn out my welcome blues.
P. J. could hear Poppa Roberts’ raspy voice wailing out the words and wondered if the old bluesman had ever been to Colorado. Suddenly, he remembered something Poppa had told him about taking his guitar on a plane. The lowered atmospheric pressure on a plane would cause the strings to shrink and could crack the top of the guitar. P. J. said a silent thanksgiving to Poppa and carefully slacked the strings before returning the instrument to its case.
Most of his belongings would be shipped out to Colorado later as the money became available, so P. J. decided to take only the necessities of life with him. There were an enormous number of books that fit in that category and once they were packed, there was no room for clothes. Sarah Effie had to ruthlessly rearrange his packing job so that clothes would fit in. Each time she tossed a book aside to make room for clothes, he winced as though he had been struck. He finally went off to sulk while his mother finished packing. P. J. was able to cram several books into his guitar case before it was time to leave. He also made sure his meteorite was securely wrapped in underwear and tucked in a safe corner of a suitcase. The baseball bat that Eddie Matthews cracked just wouldn’t fit, but P. J. consoled himself with the thought that the baseball season was winding down anyhow.
The Crowells and the Parkinses waved goodbye as the old green Pontiac rolled away down Sixteenth Street. P. J.’s feelings of elation raced by his feelings of sadness and never looked back. He was going to Colorado! On an airplane! Sitting still proved nearly impossible as they made their interminable way to the Sarasota-Bradenton airport.
Several times a year, Benny had driven P. J. out to the airport to watch the planes take off and land. It was one of the boy’s favorite pastimes and he never got enough. He knew that someday he would board one of those silver birds and fly off to parts unknown. Now that it was actually happening, he was having trouble believing it. He was afraid he would wake up and find that it was all a dream. He silently urged the Pontiac to greater speed.
Sarah Effie was abrupt as she dropped her family at the terminal. She said that she had to rush to her job at the high school, but P. J. suspected something else behind his mother’s aloofness. She refused to get out of the car to see them off. They had never been an affectionate family, but this leave-taking seemed unusually cold.
“Young man, you mind your grandmother, you hear?” was all Sarah Effie said to her son.
“Benjamin, you get that child in school as soon as you get there.” Those were her parting words to her husband.
Then she was gone.
The suddenness of her departure confused P. J. for a moment, then he felt Benny’s hand turning him in towards the terminal building. He briefly wondered if he would see his mother again, but it didn’t bother him long.
The Sarasota-Bradenton airport was not exactly a major hub of transportation. Nonetheless, its mildly bustling atmosphere thrilled P. J. and his eyes were bright as he took in all the activity. They had gotten to the airport very early so that Sarah Effie could get to school on time. That meant there was a substantial wait before they could board their plane. There wasn’t much to interest a ten-year-old in the waiting room and the air traffic seemed to be waiting for the day to mature. P. J. tried to lose himself in a book to pass the time. It didn’t work very well.
Some years later, the public address system announced that Flight 331 from Miami was about to land and would continue on to Atlanta after a brief stopover. P. J. looked up at Benny.
“Why can’t we just go straight to Denver instead of having to stop in Atlanta?”
“Son,” Benny chuckled, “if you die and go to heaven anywhere in the South, you gotta change planes in Atlanta.”
It didn’t answer P. J.’s question and he wasn’t sure what his father and grandmother found so amusing. However, the big DC-7 was pulling up at the terminal and P. J. got involved in the activity surrounding the plane’s arrival.
No one got off the plane and soon a pretty stewardess announced that Flight 331 was available for boarding. P. J.’s heart was doing a drum solo. Just before they left the terminal to board the plane, P. J. heard his name being called. He turned to see Ron Early dashing toward the gate.
“Boy, am I glad I caught you before you took off,” Ron panted. “Got something for you.”
He held out a baseball. The boy took it and read what was written on the pristine cowhide.
To P. J. “Slugger” Dowd:
Best Wishes and snap those wrists!
Hank Aaron
Ron held out his big hand. P. J. took it and shook it firmly.
“Thanks, Ron. For everything.”
They looked at each other and grinned. Then Ron gave P. J. a wink and thumbs up and turned away. The boy watched him go until Molly Kathleen pulled him away and onto the airplane.
9:47:32 PM 
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