OLD MAN ADAMS

I remember Old Man Adams looking forward to the outdated National Geographics I stocked in my GED classroom. He had lived a hard life of drinking, smoking, and whoring around, and as he explained it, his twenty some years as a truck driver afforded him that luxury. His brain seemed pickled, but for the most part I thought he could earn his GED in a relatively short time. I explained to him the procedures for qualifying: "First, you take a series of half-tests to prove you can pass. After each half-test, you take the actual GED exam for that subject."

"Why am I doing this?" he’d ask.

"So you can get your GED," I’d remind him.

Then he’d cuss me out. "All my life," he said, "I’ve worked hard. Now I get to go to school but you want me out. @!####!!% And #%%**!#!" Followed by, "You can make me take the tests but you can’t make me pass them!"

For some reason Old Man Adams wanted to show me that he was capable of doing well, so he set out to prove that he could pass each half-test. But he also reminded me that he’d get as dumb as a bag of rocks when it came time for GED exams.

So I began to confuse him.

"Now what test am I taking?" he’d ask.

"Your Social Studies half-test," I’d reply.

"Didn’t I just take that?" he’d ask.

"No," I’d lie, thinking he was on to me. Here’s how it worked: Some of the tests put in front of him were not half-tests like he’d thought; they were GED exams.

I had tricked Old Man Adams into finishing school. But the story doesn’t end there. Each student was allowed two visitors for the graduation ceremony. Old Man Adams refused to fill-out the necessary paperwork. Turns out, he had a daughter who hadn’t seen him in years and he didn’t want her to know that he was in prison. At first his counselor threatened to make the phone call, but for some reason, Old Man Adams gave in.

I’ll never forget that graduation ceremony—witnessing two people reunite as they did. Old Man Adams’s toothless smile. His daughter’s tears of joy. She had traveled all the way from Kentucky to watch her father receive his diploma.

I don’t know if she ever came to visit him again. He was immediately removed from school. Approximately three months after the graduation, I saw an inmate pushing Old Man Adams around in a wheel chair. He had emphysema. That was the last time we talked. He thanked me. He, actually, thanked me. I knew it had nothing to do with school. Not too long after that, I had heard he died.
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Happy Father’s Day (Past and Present).



The picture:

I wish my father were still 47—that would make me younger too. I’d even keep the same brush-cut. Unfortunately, my wife hates brush-cuts.

Reason: Butch-wax.
Explanation: Leaves grease on the pillow.

Message: "Hi, Pop, y'old dust mop."
Short story: "Charles" by Shirley Jackson