History of the Trap: March Coup Part 7

7

I found him.  He wasn't in his old office.  Of course not.  They'd already given him the boot.  He was in the Vice Principal's office.  Not all of his stuff had been moved over yet, but he was there.  I saw in a chair his most prized non-family picture, the one of him shaking hands with President Kennedy.  It was at a Michigan Education Awards Banquet, where he had just been honored as Michigan Principal of the Year. I wasn't surprised that it was the first thing that Mr. Tate removed from the office.  Here was a picture of a liberal President that Mr. Tate despised, congratulating the man he believed stole the job rightfully his. And it galled him even as he managed a coup to take the position away from my father.

This had been Oscar Crawler's office, back when he was Dad's second in command, back before Mr. Crowler ended it all by hanging himself last August.  That made me angry at him, at the devastating effect suicide had on others.  He was an ally my father could have really used.

My father was standing, looking out the window.  His view was now of the courtyard near the gym.  He could no longer see the woods and wonder what was beyond the Trap.  My sister had her arms around him, holding him tight.

I put my hand on his shoulder, and he put his arms around me.

"I liked the farm," he said.  "I liked helping my family grow things.  It was a wonderful thing to see what you could do with your hands and hard work.  We didn't have a lot of money, but we had each other.  The farm was a great experience. It taught me a lot.  I just had a desire to do something more, to contribute in a different way.  Not to be confined by just one plot of land, but to touch lives from all kinds of families and homes, to help them grow and learn, to help them face the challenges that life brings."

"Escape the farm.  Become an educator.  That was my goal.  And now look."  He stopped for a minute.  He had not totally lost his composure, but you could see tears trickling down his cheeks, his voice faltering.  "I....don't understand what's happening.  I don't know why this is happening. I...I..don't know..."

By then, we all were crying.  "I miss your mother."

"We miss her, too," my sister and I choked out, at virtually the same time.

We held on to each other.  For a long time.

But not long enough.