Democrats Can't Climb Trees

Jeff was the event who first brought me to see beyond my limited perspective. We were both 12 year old Anglo Saxon American Suburban Boys in the same neighborhood Cub Scout Den, but that was all we had in common. Our emotional, intellectual, and political neighborhoods were worlds apart.

Had our parents known each other, they would not have gotten along at all. My Pa would’ve seen to that. His unspoken motto was, "If you couldn’t be right, be wrong at the top of your voice." That somewhat limited his social opportunities; but, since nobody ever openly disagreed with him, he gave the impression of ultimate authority to those of us lacking choices. Once I got to know Jeff, all that all began to change for me.

It started, innocently enough, with a tree and my compulsion to climb it. You see, I was surrounded by conservatives with feet firmly planted on the ground. My head, to the contrary, was in a constant flight of fancy; my body trying desperately to keep up. Climbing a tree was about as close as it could get to those clouds.

One day Jeff came to see this tree I was always bragging about. Without much thought, other than the inherent memories contained within my hands and feet, I scampered up the trunk and amongst my favorite branches. Jeff remained below, full of envious longing, held back by common sense.

It hadn’t occurred to me that another 12 year old boy wouldn’t be a natural tree climber. Deceived by my provincial attitude, I scampered up and about like a monkey. "See how easy this is? Comonup!"

Jeff felt the implication; up he rose to the challenge. Half way, though, his grip failed. He, quickly, returned to ground zero. Not at all cat-like, he landed on one leg. I can still hear the sound of it surrendering to destiny. Jeff lay on the ground, crying out in agony.

Horrible, horrible, who would’a thunk it? How could a red blooded 12 year old American boy allow such a thing? Not me. Back down I scampered from branch to branch, jumping from where Jeff had fallen. My practiced landing brought me lightly to all "fours" next to the writhing boy.

"Did you hurt yourself bad?" I already knew the answer, but it was something you just had to ask while figuring what to do.

"Yeah........,my leg.......I think I broke my leg! OH, it hurts, it hurts! Do something, please!"

"Hold on!" Right, what else could he do? I ran over to the corner filling station for help. The mechanic there had been in Korea and knew something about first aid. He took care of Jeff till his parents arrived, loaded him into the back of their station wagon, and took him to the hospital. Things were done differently in those days.

Later, while Jeff was healing at home, I’d come over to keep him company - often - it was the least I could, what with bein’ the cause of all this pain. We’d play Parcheesi and he’d teach me chess and demonstrate his science projects. Jeff had actually built a miniature working steam turbine, and he had all these momentum things like metal balls that hung from strings and bounced off one another back and forth. He was trying to figure out a perpetual motion something-or-other. See, Jeff was a brain who only looked like a regular kid. I mean he was smart, real smart. Not at all like me; I only knew how to design tree forts and daydreams and......play chess.

One day, I heard his mother mention the name of a popular political candidate, Adlai Stevenson. I knew that name because my Pa was a Republican Poll Captain. We even had voting booths in the basement of our Co-op. My Pa was a staunch conservative who believed The Demon-crats were "The Party of Doom and Destruction" of all he held near and dear. Stevenson was, of course, the consummate Democrat.

I was stunned, "You’re Democrats?" I had built up such a mental image to go along with my Pa’s rantings. I didn’t feel in danger, though. Pa’s image just didn’t seem to fit here at all.

Well, this was Republican country, so she stood straight and tall as she answered, "Yep, greatest political party there is." This from Jeff’s Mom. The Ma who baked great cookies for us every day and squeezed real lemonade. Her house was always clean and she smiled a lot. I never once remembered hearing anyone yell at anyone else to shut up, either.

Wow, I had to go off, climb a tree, and think about all this. Democrats didn’t have horns and eat children. They just couldn’t climb trees. I couldn’t wait to get home and put my folks straight. "Pa!" I shouted bursting into the house and letting the screen door slam, again. "Jeff’s folks are De-mo-crats!"

He looked up, startled; it was unusual for me to be the one looking for him. "So?" Now he looked annoyed.

"So, they’re really nice. I thought Democrats were supposed to be mean or somethin’."

Pa yelled that even dumb folks could be nice to kids. Now, I couldn’t wait to see Jeff again - it being pretty obvious to me that they were anything but dumb. They had a nicer house and nobody ever seemed to yell at anyone. And Jeff was a brain.

That night I didn’t come quick enough when "called" by Pa. On Saturday I showed up at Jeff’s with evidence I couldn’t hide.

Jeff didn’t laugh about it, though. "Hey, I warned you to stay away from Freddie."

I guess I could have lied about it, but I didn’t want to do that with Jeff. "It wasn’t him...it was my Pa." I forced a grin. "Whattayawanna do today?"

He ignored my scramble and ran my dodge out of bounds. "Your Father hit you?"

"Yeah," I was confused. Doesn’t your Pa ever hit you?"

He gave me a real strange look before answering. Then spoke real slow like, "No, why would he want to?"

"Well, you know, if you got caught doing somethin’ wrong."

"No," Jeff was still real thoughtful -- like he was trying to communicate in a foreign language. "No, he’d just explain why I shouldn’t."

"Well, but what if you got caught doin’ it again after he explained it to you?" I figured that should do it.

Jeff smiled, sad like. His answer was almost incomprehensible to me. "I don’t remember that ever happening. My parents just figure I didn’t understand, so they explain it again – thoroughly. You know, sometimes I think a quick spanking would be easier to deal with." He lifted his eyebrows and half smiled.

I looked at him like he was from another galaxy. My folks never explained anything ‘cept what would happen if they ever caught me. I tried once more, "But, don’t you ever do somethin’ wrong just to see if you can get away with it?"

"No!" Jeff was quite taken aback by this one, "Why would I do something stupid just to get away with it?"

"I dunno. I was just wonderin’ I really like your folks; they’re really nice." I punched him lightly and laughed, "Even if they are Democrats. Whatayawannadonow?" We went back to more adolescent pursuits and kept each other company until he returned to normal. Then we just sort of drifted apart - me into a cultural backwater, Jeff with the mainstream of society.

We really had little, if anything, in common. Jeff’s folks appreciated how I kept him company while his "real" friends couldn’t seem to find the time, but I really wasn’t the sort of kid they thought he should run around with. We occasionally tooted horns in passing; but Jeff went on to Grad. School, while I flunked out of college and got married. Like I said, he was always much smarter than me.

Jeff grew up to become a college math professor. I became an artist and spinner of poetic dreams. Funny how perspective changes. I was never much of a Conservative with my head up in the air, and he was never much of a Liberal with both feet planted firmly on the ground.

But, I will always remember how a Democrat had to fall out of a tree to broaden my perspective.