Steve, Pete, and Ricky walk down a flight of steps to the basement.
“Here is my bottega, my artist’s workshop,” says Ricky as he steps into a modest-sized space with a ceiling just a couple of inches above his head. Most of the area is devoted to a wood shop. A laundry area with washing machine and dryer is set off to the far left. “Over here is the wood you’ll need,” Ricky says to his nephews.
“A few weeks ago,” says Steve, “my class took this trip to The Brooklyn Museum. They got this great picture there of a court jester playing with a toy. Here, I drew this in my Mechanical Drawing class. Take a look at it Uncle Ricky. To work the toy, Uncle Ricky, well what you do is, you hold it by the stick and flip the ball up in the air and as it comes down, you try to catch it in the cup. I thought it looked like it could be fun, and when I tried to find one in the toy stores, no luck. So, I figure I’ll make one for myself and a few more to see if me and Pete could sell them. Did you ever see this kind of toy, Uncle Ricky?”
“Yeah,” answers Ricky. “I’ve seen some little cheap ones from Japan. The ones you’ll make, they’ll be ten times better.”
* * * *
The first one made, under Ricky’s careful supervision, comes out great, with a clear varnish that brings out the wood’s grain.
“Can I try it?!” cries Pete. “I wanna try it first! Please!”
“In about an hour,” Uncle Ricky replies. “First it has to dry.”
The boys decide to go ahead and make ten more. As they work, Ricky works on his present for Cousin Gina.
The boys start to get into a smooth routine. Steve saws the wood and drills the holes while Pete does the sanding, gluing and shellacking. The Yankees game is softly heard from a nearby RCA radio. Mel Stottlemeyer is pitching a shutout against the Indians.
“Yer putting a bit too much glue there, Pete,” says Ricky.
“I am not!” cries Pete. But on the next one he puts a little less. “Is dat enough, Uncle Ricky?”
“Yeah, that’s plenty. Bene! Steve, you’re starting Lincoln High in the fall. Are you excited?”
“I guess. Some of the kids I like from my junior high are going there also, so that’s good. But there’ll be a lot of new kids too. I’m hoping they don’t give me a hard time.”
“If anyone bothers you,” says Pete, “just knock deir block off! Dat’s what Dad would do.”
“Yeah,” Steve responds, “that’s just the way he’d handle it all right. Uncle Ricky, you ever hear from Dad?”
A long pause. Pete stops his work and turns to his uncle.
“He’s… he’s working da docks over in Hoboken,” Ricky finally answers.
“Where’s dat?” asks Pete.
“It’s over in Jersey, ‘bout a couple of hours from here,” answers Ricky.
“You think we’ll ever see him again?” asks Steve.
“I’m hoping when he gets settled in Jersey,” answers Ricky. “He feels like he’s such a failure and he wants you two to be proud of him. When he gets his life in one piece and he can respect himself, well maybe he could face ya.”
Steve shrugs his shoulders and then begins to lean forward to bring his pencil to a stick where he will mark his next cut. But just as his pencil almost reaches the stick, he pauses. He shakes his head while squeezing his lips together. He then takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out…
* * * *
When all ten toys are done and have been carefully placed on a large workbench to dry, Steve and Pete begin to watch Ricky doing some work for his project. With a tape measure and a pencil, he marks off six feet on a fresh piece of board. He then puts the pencil behind his right ear, brings the board over to a bench, and with an electric saw he begins to make his cut. RRRRRRRRR. With the cut completed, Ricky blows the sawdust off the board and studies the straightness of the edge.
“Uncle Ricky,” says Steve, “thanks.”
“Don’t need no thanks, Steve,” says Ricky looking up from his work. “You can use my woodshop anytime. I like the company.”
“I don’t mean thanks for letting us use the wood shop,” says Steve.
“Well, what then?” asks Ricky.
There is, once again, a long pause. Finally Steve says, “Thanks for being there… you know… when we were growing up and you were there…. Thanks, Uncle Ricky. I’ll never forget those times when you were there.”
“Yeah,” says Pete, “danks, Uncle Ricky. I love ya.” And then Pete and Steve go over to their uncle and give him a great big hug, which brings tears to Ricky’s eyes.
###
More from the author of A Hero Grows in Brooklyn:
FIGHTS IN THE STREETS, TEARS IN THE SAND
If you enjoyed reading A Hero Grows in Brooklyn, you’ll love its sequel, Fights in the Streets, Tears in the Sand. There, Steve Marino and the rest of the gang face exciting new adventures upon beginning Lincoln High.
As the story opens, we meet Jeff Star, a rock 'n' roll guitar playing teenager, who has one major problem—every time he tries to get the kids to respect him, he ends up making more and more enemies. Will joining a local violent gang save him? How about the wisdom of Steve Marino, a guy who became a hero back in junior high? Or will it be the beautiful and strange Mysterious Jane?
Join us as Jeff struggles with being blamed for a grisly murder, Steve’s little brother tumbles into madness, and Mysterious Jane searches for meaning beyond the superficial. Hold on to dear life on this roller coaster ride of twisting rises and terrifying falls while discovering secrets of respect that enlighten us all.
Coming soon to all major e-book stores.
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