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Cut Ear Louie by George E. Romasco He
was Cut Ear Louie, and I always knew him. He
worked for my Dad during the week, and on weekends he putzed around our
house. Mostly he did yard work. He was always digging or planting or building
or mending or just sitting in the sun smoking half a Da Nobili. Sometimes I imagined the cigar grew out of his mouth.
He also talked to me. That was very important because no one ever talked to
me. People talked at me, but Cut Ear talked to me, and I talked to him. He
taught me everything I know. Every thing important. He was the best teacher I
ever had. He knew more about all the important things than all the teachers
and professors and pundits and advisors and gurus in the entire universe all
lumped together and multiplied by two. Don’t hurt nobody, he used to say.
That’s all, he would say, Don’t hurt nobody, even you. That’s it. That’s all
you have to know. Just don’t hurt nobody. I
would ask him to explain, and he would sit back on his heels and chew on the
stogie. It ain’t easy, he would say. You gotta think about it. And that’s
what we would do. We’d sit there and think about it and after awhile I would
tire of thinking because it was hard work, and I would ask how’d you cut your
ear, and he would tell me a story. Which was what I wanted in the first
place. It was always a different story, but it was always about Bastinado. BASTINADO’S
TOMATOES Bastinado was a very old man. Even older than me. He was all
stooped over. When he walked his head was bent towards his shoes. He never
saw the sky. And the sun . . . he only felt it on his neck. He
lived alone at the end of town, just where the road dipped down the hillside
towards the river. That’s where the town people had their gardens. Down by
the river where the soil was rich and moist. But Bastinado, he had no river
land. All he had was a small rock filled patch near his house. Every year he
scratched at the ground. Every year he took out rocks and still there were
always more. He never stopped. He scratched at the ground and he planted the
fava and tomatoes. Every day he worked in that garden. He carried water from
the river every day. Every day up and down the road with two buckets tied on
the ends of a pole he carried on his neck. Nobody talked to him and he talked
to nobody. It was as if he wasn’t there. Sometimes the littlest ones would
run away or cry when they saw him coming down the road but the mothers would
hush them and say, “Quiet now its just poor old Bastinado, he hurts no one.”
Some times the older boys would run behind him laughing and throwing small
stones at his feet. But the men would stop them, sometimes they would smack
one of them on the back of the head. Leave him alone he hurts no one. Once I heard my mother and Zia Sabastiano
talking. They said old Bastinado spent his whole life crying. He was crying
all the time they said and I remember saying that I never heard him crying
and Zia Sabastiano said you must have good ears to hear him cry. From then on
for awhile I used to follow him listening very hard, but I never heard him
cry. I asked my papa why Bastinado didn’t have some land near the river. He
said Bastinado didn’t want the river land. He could have a share with the
rest of the villagers if he wanted. But why? Papa just shrugged his shoulders.
Chi sa. Who knows he said. Down by
the river the fava and the tomatoes grew big and juicy. All of us children
waited and waited for the first red ones to eat when they were the best so
sweet I can never forget. Bastinado’s tomatoes were small the plants were like green
strings. The fava were small so small it would take a thousand to make a
meal. But Bastinado didn’t care. I used to walk down to his patch in the
evening and I would sit on a rock and watch that garden. I couldn’t
understand the tomatoes were small and they looked almost dry. Why would
Bastinado want these instead of the ones at the river. Then one night I
waited until the light in his house went out and I went into his garden and I
picked one of those small tomatoes, and I ate it. It was the sweetest one I
ever ate. I’ll never forget. It was so sweet I was afraid to eat more. I was
frightened, but I didn’t know why. I ran home. The next day I could think of nothing else but those tomatoes.
I told my friends but they laughed. I was very angry. Giordano and I fought.
We rolled around in the dirt until someone I don’t remember who pulled us
apart. Then we were friends again. Giordano and I always fought. It meant
nothing. That night we met near Bastinado’s garden. It was very dark.
When I got there all the boys were there, but I could only see their shape,
they were like ghosts. Ten, twelve of them. I knew Giordano by his voice, he
said are we going and so Giordano and I went first and the others followed.
First I ate a tomato then Giordano and then both of us and then the others
and I don’t know why but we pulled up all the plants and then we ran. The next day they found him in the garden. He was laying there
crying. Now I heard. We all heard. Some of the men went to him but nothing.
He just cried. They called the priest but Bastinado didn’t move and the sobs
grew louder. It hurt my ears and I ran home to my bed. They took Bastinado
away I don’t know where, I never knew. My father came home and he asked about
the garden. I told him. He asked did I hear Bastinado cry, I said yes. He
said no—before the garden and I said no. He said I should have heard then I
would have left the garden alone. It is wrong not to hear the tears of the
poor, the buona anima. He took me to the garden. I stood there
with the broken plants and I cried. My father said it was too late for tears that it would have
been better if my ears were open before. And then he helped me. He cut off
just the soft part of my left ear just a little piece. I knelt in the garden
and my blood mixed with the broken plants. At
the end of a story Cut Ear would pinch off the end of his cigar and put it in
his shirt pocket. I never saw him throw one away. We’d sit quietly for a few
minutes and then Cut Ear would sigh, get up and begin anew whatever task was
at hand. Louie never came into the house, and he never ate with us. My mother
always brought him lunch and supper in a covered dish. On only the coldest of
days did he eat indoors. On those days he ate in the garage. Many times I
asked to eat with him, but I was told that Louie wanted to be alone. It never
made sense to me. When I asked him about it he would say that there are
things that a man needs to do alone. The things of the body should be
private, he would say. I was twenty eight before that made any sense to me. I
wondered about what he would have said about men and women and bodies; then,
I remembered Bastinado’s shoes. BASTINADO’S SHOES One day Bastinado’s mother told him he was no longer a boy. So
he must wear shoes every day. After all, she said, no women would put up with
a bare footed man. Bastinado always listened to his mother so he followed her
to the shoe maker. Ah, said the shoemaker, Bastinado is no longer a boy and
he got him a pair of sturdy shoes. Bastinado did not like the shoes and every
chance he got he took them off. But his mother would always find out. And she
would be very angry. Bastinado never understood why. When he was younger she
would hug him and kiss him. Now she glared at him and pestered him with hard
words. He wondered why she didn’t like him anymore. It was the shoes. He
cursed the shoes. And afterwards he was afraid. He remembered his Mother’s
words to his Father. One of these days God will strike you down, do not
blaspheme in my house. Take your dirty mouth to the pig sty. He used to like
to be in the house with his mother and Nona Domenica but now he heard only
hard words. So when the work was done he would walk the mountain meadows near
his home alone. As soon as he was out of sight he would take off his shoes,
tie them together and wear them around his neck. Sometimes he would hide them
behind some rocks. One day he found the shoes on top of the rock with some
flowers in them. He thought it was strange but then many strange things
happened around the village. One day he was walking by the river, I was there
with my sister Maria who washed clothes. Bastinado stood looking at us. Maria
screwed up her face and spat out hard words. What are you looking at little
boy with big dirty feet and then she grabbed the clothes basket and walked
away. Bastinado hung his head and looked at his feet. Hey, Bastinado, I said
don’t worry they are your feet. He looked at me but I knew he didn’t see me.
Sometimes even our own bodies don’t belong to us. But
Louie, I thought Bastinado was an old man? Even an old man was young once.
You too, bella fiori, you too will be an old man just like me. And Bastinado,
I said. Yes, all of us just like Bastinado. But what I don’t understand is
why Maria didn’t like Bastinado. Cut Ear laughed. Oh, she liked him but that’s the way with men and women.
Bastinado was careful afterwards to always wear his shoes just in case Maria
might see. But when she saw him she would say that it was good that the shoes
hid his ugly feet. Bastinado looked very sad. What I couldn’t understand was
that now my sister made me go everywhere with her. It was a bad time for me.
Everywhere we went there was Bastinado and always Maria glared at him and
many times called him dirty feet and Bastinado looked very sad. One day Maria
called me to walk with her she said she was very sad and wanted to be alone
and so I began to leave but she made me stay to walk up to the meadow where
the sheep were. It was a hard walk and I was a small boy and then I slipped
off the path and rolled down the slope. It wasn’t far and at first I was not
afraid but then I heard Maria screaming and I hit my head. That’s all I
remembered for a while. Then I woke up. I was in Maria’s arms and something
was around my head and I looked around and both of us were in Bastinado’s
arms and he carried us down the hill to the village. After that Maria and
Bastinado always walked together but I still had to go with them. They would
walk by the river and then through the fields and always they would stop and
make a place for me to sit and they would give me bread and cheese and I
would wait. Bastinado said sometimes a man and a women need to be alone. I
always remember it was because I fell and cut off a piece of my ear that
Maria and Bastinado were together. His
face was like leather. Rough leather with short stubble all over it. His
clothes were old, but always clean. They smelled of the strong bleach that
the man in the wagon sold through the neighborhood every Monday. The clothes
were always the same. A long sleeved blue denim shirt bleached almost white
and bib overalls. He must have had several sets because he was always clean.
I asked my father about Louie’s family. They are in Italy was all he ever
said. I asked Louie about his family. He said nothing but two large tears
rolled down his face and he took out a checkered blue handkerchief and blew
his nose. He was painting the fence at the back of the yard. He pointed for
me to sit on the bench by the fig tree. And he told me about Bastinado’s son. BASTINADO’S SON No one was surprised when Maria agreed to marry Bastinado.
Every one said they knew all along. It surprised me and I was with them all
the time except when I was eating the bread and cheese. That’s when they
decided, it must have been. It was good for me because now I didn’t have to
go every place with them. Bastinado and Maria were always looking at each
other and holding hands. All the women in the village were happy and the men
laughed. That poor cafone doesn’t know what’s ahead. Be quiet, let
him enjoy while he can. I didn’t pay much attention so I was surprised when Bastinado
asked me to be Godfather to his son. What son I said. Your sister is having a
baby can’t you see, he said. I thought she was just getting fat from being
lazy because now Bastinado did all the work. But it was the baby growing
inside. I said I didn’t know how to be a Godfather beside I was just a boy.
Bastinado just laughed. Don’t worry he said you don’t have to do anything but
be good to the baby. It’s just the same as being an uncle and you can’t help
that. You are going to be an uncle because you are Maria’s brother. It
doesn’t matter how old you are. I understood that because Umberto was only a
year older than me and he was an uncle twice already. But the night the baby came was very bad. Something was wrong
the women rushed in and out of the bedroom shaking their head and looking
sad. Bastinado looked frightened. He tried to say something but the women
just glared at him. One told him he was an animal and he had done enough and
he should go away. Then Maria began to scream and scream and Bastinado held
his ears and his whole body shook. Then it was quiet. They showed him his son. The baby was wrinkled like an old man
and red. They pointed to the room and pushed him. Bastinado looked stricken
and he grabbed my hand and took me with him. Maria looked so small in the bed
and so pale. We just stood there. Finally she opened her eyes and looked at
us, then she turned her head to the wall. We left and went to the Cantina. The men shouted and clapped
Bastinado on the shoulders but he just looked sad. Hey, Louie, someone said,
what happened to Bastinado. I don’t know I said Maria didn’t say anything.
Oh, Oh they shouted. Hey, Bastinado, don’t worry they all get that way when
they have a baby. She’ll get over it. Don’t worry. They all get like that. But it didn’t get better. Maria wouldn’t talk to him. Then on
the Baptism day Maria cut off my ear. It wasn’t on purpose. I was in their
house and she just picked up a knife and threw it at Bastinado. It missed him
and sliced off the tip of my ear. It didn’t hurt but there was a lot of
blood. Maria fainted and Bastinado left. He never came back. I think he went
to Africa. And
then Louie was silent. He just painted the fence and shook his head. But what
about Bastinado’s son, I said. Oh, he said, it was very sad. He died in the
war. My
mother hated guns. She told my father she wouldn’t stand for guns anywhere on
the property. He argued, but he lost. I didn’t understand the argument
because I heard him tell Louie he didn’t want any guns around when Louie was
cleaning his gun in the garage. Louie just nodded his head. I asked Louie why
he had a gun in the first place. He said it isn’t a gun it’s a rifle. I said
what’s the difference. He said someday he’d explain, but he never did. Then
one day in November I found him in the garage working on a gun. He was wiping
it with some shiny stuff. Later I found out it was oil. I said you better be
careful because my mom doesn’t like guns. He said that it was a rifle, and I
said I guess it’s alright then. I asked if guns were bad and rifles okay. He
said it wasn’t like that. It was people. Anything is okay as long as you
don’t hurt anybody. I wanted to hold the rifle but Louie said I was too
small. He said you wait another year and I will teach you. There is the right
time to learn about things. It’s bad too soon and bad too late. It has to be
the right time. I said how do you know when is the right time. Louie said you
have to use your head and think. You have to use your head. Then he told me
about Bastinado’s gun. BASTINADO’S GUN Bastinado had an old shot gun. His father gave it to him when
he was fourteen which was about the right time for a boy to have a gun.
Bastinado didn’t shoot the gun very often because the shells cost a lot of
money and they were hard to get. But after some time Bastinado could hit
almost anything because he was very careful. When you are careful you can
almost always do your best. Bastinado’s father was proud of him because when he hunted he
did not waste shells and he always brought home something for the pot. Then
when he was eighteen Bastinado went with his class to the army for a year.
When he came home he was much bigger and he had a mustache and he had a new
rifle that fired a 44 caliber bullet instead of little metal balls. My sister
and her friends thought he was handsome. They talked about him all the time.
My mother said he would be a good provider and if a girl had any sense she
would get him. My sister said he was full of himself but she made me walk
everywhere with her. She asked me all about Bastinado. Mostly I said I don’t
know and I would find out. I used to say, Bastinado, Rosaria wants to know did you go to
Rome. No he said but I am thinking about going. When, I said. He said when I
get married. I told Rosaria. She said he’d have to find someone willing to
marry him he was so full of himself. One day Bastinado came to our house to
ask my mother if I could go hunting with him. She said he’s too young and he
said it would be good for him to watch so he learned the right way. She said
okay but Rosaria would have to go to take care of him. I said I didn’t need
Rosaria. She said don’t talk back to your mother and slapped me on the head. So we went. It wasn’t fun because all they did was talk and
laugh. It was like I wasn’t there. Then we stopped at the look out up on
Piano de Fara. Bastinado asked her if she wanted to learn the rifle. She said
yes and I was angry because she was a girl even if she was older. I kicked up
the dirt and Rosaria told me not to be a baby. She held the rifle and
Bastinado put his arms around her and they were both laughing. So I walked
down the path to the meadow. Then I heard a bang and something hit my ear and there was screaming.
I was frightened and I started to cry and I heard Bastinado say it’s okay
it’s just his ear and Rosaria said thank god and they carried me home where
mama put a bandage on my ear and called Bastinado a dumb ox and Rosaria said
he was not and ran out of the room. Later they got married and I had much fun
at the wedding. Giordano said I was lucky she was such a bad shot. Francisco
said never give a gun to a woman. My
friend Marvin had two thumbs on one hand. I liked him because he was
different like Louie. Marvin’s mother made him wear a glove on the hand with
two thumbs. I asked Marvin why and he would turn his head away. Marvin didn’t
go to school. I got to go over to his house on Sunday afternoons to play with
him. I liked it a lot because he had a whole army of lead soldiers. I had a
couple. But I never saw so many before. Marvin
was nice. He shared everything he had. I asked him why he didn’t go to
school. He said it was because of his thumbs and I said I wished I had two
thumbs like him. Marvin shook his head. He said nobody liked you if you’re
different. I asked Cut Ear about that. He said people mostly didn’t care. It
is that they are afraid of what they don’t understand. If they understand why
you are different most don’t care anymore and the rest are jealous because
they want to be different too. I said I didn’t understand. He said why did I
want two thumbs and I said because I didn’t want to go to school and he said
that was not good and I should think about it. Then he told me about Bastinado’s
dog. BASTINADO’S DOG Bastinado wanted a dog but the only dogs in the village were
hunting dogs which were very expensive and weren’t good for pets. His father
said pets were for rich people and for us there could only be dogs who worked
to earn their keep. When a dog was too old or too stupid to do a dogs work
then they took them to the river and drowned them. The world is a cruel place
for poor men and dogs. The dogs are lucky because they die quickly but for a
poor man death comes only after much suffering. Someday Bastinado thought I will be rich and then I will have a
pet dog. One day he was walking along the river wishing for a dog when he met
old Mateo who everyone called the dog man. Mateo bred the best hunting dogs
in Chieti. Today he was putting rocks in a basket. Why are you putting rocks
in that basket Bastinado said. Because I must fix nature’s mistake. And they
say there is a god, look this god sends a dog into this world with just three
legs. In the box was a puppy who looked perfect to Bastinado. But before he
could say anything Mateo threw the box into the river and walked away. Without thinking Bastinado dived into the river after the
basket and he found it and got the puppy before it drowned. He put the puppy
inside his shirt and climbed the path to the old olive grove near the ruins
of Castel Franca. He did not stop until he reached the ruins and crawled into
the special place he had dug under the remains of the north wall. There he
took out the puppy and looked at it closely. Sure enough it had only three
legs but other than that it looked fine and it licked his nose. Bastinado was glad he saved the puppy and happy because he had
a dog. He played with the puppy all afternoon and then he took it home. He
could not wait to show his father. After all he had a puppy—one of
Mateo’s—for nothing. But his father was very angry and he slapped him across
the head and his mother called him a dumb ox more stupid than his father and
while they argued Bastinado took the puppy and ran away. He hid the puppy in the tool shed. When he came home he told
his father the puppy was dead and his father said good because a dog with
three legs was useless. Bastinado asked why and his father hit him on the
back of the head. He said maybe god had made a mistake with him too. The next
day Bastinado made a place for the puppy at Castel Franca and every day he
took food and played with his puppy. It was the best summer Bastinado could
remember. The people of the village thought he was touched because he
went off by himself so much. They said that’s what came of hitting the boy on
the back of the head too much. They didn’t know about the dog. Then one day
the dog came into the gardens by the river where nearly the whole village was
working. Everyone stopped to stare at this sight, a three legged dog running
to Bastinado and then running away and barking. Bastinado knew at once and
began to follow the dog and most of the men followed both straight to Castel
Franca where they found my legs sticking out from under a pile of rocks that
fell on me. I was bruised all over and I lost a piece of my ear but I was
alive because of Bastinado’s three legged dog. The dog came to live in the village and was everyone’s pet for
awhile but then they changed. One day the dog was gone and no one knew why
although most thought Mateo could tell a tale. Bastinado looked everywhere
but he never found the dog. Then he went away. During
the winter months Louie spent most of his time sitting by the pot belly stove
my father had set up in the garage. When I left for school in the morning he
was there and when I came home he was still there, almost as if he had been
frozen in time while I was away. And day by day he seemed to get smaller
while I became bigger. When I asked him about it he said that’s the way it
is, you think everybody is smaller when you grow. When you stop growing
you’ll understand. How can you tell when you stop growing I asked. Louie
chewed on the stogie and nodded his head. You’ll know. If you listen, you’ll
know. I sat beside him and I listened but I didn’t hear anything. Louie, I
said, How did you cut your ear? And that’s when he told me about Bastinado’s
bicycle. |