Story E
Posted: Tue Oct 18, 2005 8:31 pm
STORY E
Living Next Door to Leonard Cohen
Leonard's eyes were sometimes brown and sometimes they were green. On the days they were brown it was all sunny skies and fair sailing. When they were green -- you had better watch out. This was a sad fact of my new life in Westmount.
The first time I saw Leonard he was sitting on his doorstep watching my father's desk being heaved and shoved up the sidewalk to our new house. We eyed each other for awhile. Then he came trotting over. He was all dressed up like he was going on a visit to an old aunt. He immediately started giving out all his vital statistics. He was eight. Same as me but small for his age -- so if push came to shove I was pretty sure I would have the upper hand. When the formal introductions were over -- I looked him up and down.
"Why are you dressed up," I asked.
He mumbled something that sounded like "school".
"On a Saturday," I said aghast.
"Yes. And I'm learning Hebrew."
"Hebrew! What for?"
"Eventually, for my bar mitzvah."
I didn't have the faintest idea what a bar mitzvah was. But as he continued to talk it gradually dawned on me that Leonard was one of The Chosen People. My family were staunch Methodists and my mother was descended from circuit riders on both sides. I knew lots of Jews intimately but they were all in the Bible. I had never seen a live one. I examined him like an archeologist discovering The Tablets of Stone.
Leonard continued talking -- blythely filling me in on the neightborhood --which kids were mean, which dogs would bite (not his--unless he gave the secret command) which lawns were forbidden to walk on--he then swerved into personal family anecdotes before finally veering off into his own exploits. Which were prodigious and of biblical proportions. Benaiah, fighting his lion in a snowy pit, had nothing on Leonard.
He went on and on -- I couldn't get a word in edgewise about my own fantastical feats-- and was getting pretty sore about it. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and stopped him right in the middle of an account about killer rats and his father's gun.
"For someone on their way to talk to God in Hebrew," I shouted, "You sure do tell a lot of lies!"
His eyes narrowed and turned green. That's when we had our first fight. It was a pretty good one. We were evenly matched despite his being smaller. After we were torn from each other's throats by both sets of mortified parents...and iodined down and made to apologize to each other---we were sent to our respective rooms to reflect on our sins and await a visit from our fathers.
Leonard got a licking. I didn't. I got a lecture. My father in his sorrowful way expressed his great disappointment in me--that I had behaved in a way that was truly disgraceful and shameful---that my mother was worried about my character--and on and on until I was in tears and began secretly plotting revenge against Leonard and his lies.
That evening after supper, I went outside into the backyard to think about strategy. From next door I heard the sound of singing. It was high and sweet and in a language I did not know. I climbed over the fence and followed the notes. Up the tree I went and there sat Leonard. His eyes were brown and shining. He stopped singing.
"Is that Hebrew," I asked.
"No, it is Russian."
"It's pretty, but sad," I said.
He started singing again. High and sweet and sad.
He stopped and looked at me.
"Truce," he said.
"Truce." I said.
I climbed back down feeling happy and taking care not to rip my new dress.
Two days later his eyes were green again
Living Next Door to Leonard Cohen
Leonard's eyes were sometimes brown and sometimes they were green. On the days they were brown it was all sunny skies and fair sailing. When they were green -- you had better watch out. This was a sad fact of my new life in Westmount.
The first time I saw Leonard he was sitting on his doorstep watching my father's desk being heaved and shoved up the sidewalk to our new house. We eyed each other for awhile. Then he came trotting over. He was all dressed up like he was going on a visit to an old aunt. He immediately started giving out all his vital statistics. He was eight. Same as me but small for his age -- so if push came to shove I was pretty sure I would have the upper hand. When the formal introductions were over -- I looked him up and down.
"Why are you dressed up," I asked.
He mumbled something that sounded like "school".
"On a Saturday," I said aghast.
"Yes. And I'm learning Hebrew."
"Hebrew! What for?"
"Eventually, for my bar mitzvah."
I didn't have the faintest idea what a bar mitzvah was. But as he continued to talk it gradually dawned on me that Leonard was one of The Chosen People. My family were staunch Methodists and my mother was descended from circuit riders on both sides. I knew lots of Jews intimately but they were all in the Bible. I had never seen a live one. I examined him like an archeologist discovering The Tablets of Stone.
Leonard continued talking -- blythely filling me in on the neightborhood --which kids were mean, which dogs would bite (not his--unless he gave the secret command) which lawns were forbidden to walk on--he then swerved into personal family anecdotes before finally veering off into his own exploits. Which were prodigious and of biblical proportions. Benaiah, fighting his lion in a snowy pit, had nothing on Leonard.
He went on and on -- I couldn't get a word in edgewise about my own fantastical feats-- and was getting pretty sore about it. Finally I couldn't take it any longer and stopped him right in the middle of an account about killer rats and his father's gun.
"For someone on their way to talk to God in Hebrew," I shouted, "You sure do tell a lot of lies!"
His eyes narrowed and turned green. That's when we had our first fight. It was a pretty good one. We were evenly matched despite his being smaller. After we were torn from each other's throats by both sets of mortified parents...and iodined down and made to apologize to each other---we were sent to our respective rooms to reflect on our sins and await a visit from our fathers.
Leonard got a licking. I didn't. I got a lecture. My father in his sorrowful way expressed his great disappointment in me--that I had behaved in a way that was truly disgraceful and shameful---that my mother was worried about my character--and on and on until I was in tears and began secretly plotting revenge against Leonard and his lies.
That evening after supper, I went outside into the backyard to think about strategy. From next door I heard the sound of singing. It was high and sweet and in a language I did not know. I climbed over the fence and followed the notes. Up the tree I went and there sat Leonard. His eyes were brown and shining. He stopped singing.
"Is that Hebrew," I asked.
"No, it is Russian."
"It's pretty, but sad," I said.
He started singing again. High and sweet and sad.
He stopped and looked at me.
"Truce," he said.
"Truce." I said.
I climbed back down feeling happy and taking care not to rip my new dress.
Two days later his eyes were green again
.
]
! LOVE the surprize! Of course, trotting 
! And ~ great depiction of two kids from vastly-differing backgrounds, coming together, with all the unknowns, misimpressions, questions, discoveries, judgements, and comments 
.