A Short History by Eddie Daniels by Mike Finley

A Short History Eddie Daniels

I have been very good. I have been very good for 8 years. I told my wife that our children looked like tiny skeletons only three times. When I spat blood I did so discreetly into monogrammed hankies. I told my wife that at last I had a single integrated action plan (SIAP). The time I went to Disneyland and blew the head off the hippo in the jungle ride was an aberration. The time I spent 2 weeks in the Rocket Motel with a topless dancer named Baby Madonna was truly unusual. I no longer think I am a wolf. When I vomit on family holidays I do so with some grace and never at table. It has been years since I insisted on going into the woods to shit. 5

I have been interested in organizational development. I no longer drink wine from bottles wrapped in paper bags with guys named Spider and Bullethead. I especially avoid doing this in our driveway. I am meek at work and participate with enthusiasm in group activities. When I run in 10 kilometer races it is hard to tell that I itch all over and am imagining that I am being chased by hearts with mouths. I only speak to the dog in my command voice. I go dutifully to all the Vietnam movies to learn what I should think. I explain to my son what a dustoff is. I do not mention the fact that to me it looks like people in the audience have the heads of hyenas and jackals. My son looks like a tiny skeleton. When he was born I went down in the cellar and built him a coffin. 6

I will send this with him when he goes into the army. From Dad. If all dads did this it would save our government considerable expense. Dads should also build coffins for the sons our sons will kill. I have a complete set of plans for coffins for sons of many nationalities. Spider told me that this was a waste of time. Just send along some extra-strength garbage bags. He said. And what about the mommas and babies. He said. And, anyway, you dumb shit. He said. There ain't nothing to bury most of the time. He said. You dumb old fucker. You think we're back in Vietnam. I still think that it would demonstrate our compassion. I often imagine my daughter on fire. I was reading "Come Away, Joe" to her and she was curled up in my arms and I imagined that she was hit with white phosphorus and burned from the inside out. The white phosphorus looked like a star in her belly. 7

I imagined that she was also hit with napalm. Have some jelly, honey. We called people burnt up by napalm "crispy critters." This was a popular breakfast cereal at the time. Here is how I am telling you I make love to my wife. I imagine that we are both dead and holding each other. We are under a hill. The hill looks over a blue and peaceful town. The town is not a town. It is the shadow of a tone. The bank, the church, the little stores and tiny houses tremble and dissolve in a soft mist. No-one can see the town. It is not in any government records or on any maps. Our children live there. For a long time I was unemployed. I drove a car the color of a cloud. I would pick up our children from school. Your father comes for you in a car the color of a cloud. At night I imagine that our dead cat is walking in the garden. 8

I imagine I am in the garden and she treadles my chest. She licks my eyes thinking the moon's rays are milk. Her eyes shine with love. Lay down with me lay down in the humility of death. You see that I am very sentimental. This morning we all sat at breakfast and I said "I am worried about Goethe." "Why, Dad?" My son said. "Ok, dear." My wife said. "You have been good for eight years. You can have that party." This is a lie. My wife left me 10 years ago. She lives with our children and her new husband in a very nice rambler on a cul-de-sac in the very nice state of California. I often imagine that my children are dream children. I still live in the same house which is where I grew up. My father is dead. 9

My mother is dead. They are buried in Fairview cemetery. Just off Oak street. Warrensville, Pa, 19380. They are on a very nice cul-de-sac. Old joke. I spoke to my mother the other night. "Do you have your gloves on?" She asked. "Yes." I asseverated. I came home from Vietnam when my father died. "Your father died." They said. "Complete this form." They said. "Be back in two weeks." They said. When I got off the plane in Honolulu they hung flowers around my neck. Then they unloaded the bodies. When I saw my father in the coffin I saw that they put glasses on him. He only wore glasses to read. They wanted a homey look. I vomited 10

in the men's room. I held my mother at the grave. Her cloth coat smelled the same as it did when I was little. We went home to the funeral meats which were Vienna sausages in tomato sauce. This is how a lot of people live. My cousin turned on the TV to watch a football game. True. He was down in the basement. True. Other males were enjoying the game. I threw my father's hammer through the screen. Incoming. I kicked my cousin in the face. Everyone was embarrassed. Here's who was dead when I came back. Daniel Mariano Carlos Gonzalez John Rollins William Latoff Gross weight: about 710 lbs. 11

I bought a tape recorder to record my thoughts about war and letters to my mother. Here are my thoughts about war as recorded by me at Landing Zone X-Ray adjacent to the Chu Pong Range: Here is a continuation of those thoughts as recorded by me trekking overland with the 5th Cav: Here are my thoughts as I surveyed the 800 dead of a famous battle that you can read about in a coffee table book available at a discount rate from Barnes and Noble: My letters to mother were equally eloquent. Is this too easy? Yes. Do you want to know the truth? My wife told me she was leaving. I am tired of this shit. Blah. Blah. She said. 12

I asked her to wait. "Don't pack yet." I said. I went to the mall and bought a camera. Plenty of film. When I came home she was crying. She was on the couch. I took pictures of every room in the house. I opened every closet and drawer and took pictures. I took her picture. When the kids came home I took their pictures. They left. Then her mother and her brothers came over and took everything. It took me two years to complete the reconstruction. Now I have a lifesize wife weeping on the couch. My son sits at his desk and plays Pac Man. My daughter plays with her doll. Some of that shit was hard to find. You understand. You are also sentimental. 13

One year I drove to California to see my children. In the car the color of a cloud. In Oklahoma I woke up at dawn and went outside the motel room. It was next to a pasture. There were horses in the pasture. I stood at the fence. The horses were the color of the dawn. They came to me. Then I kicked in the bedroom door. Shot this picture. Reader. Rider. Horses. Slaked. Plausive. Ignorant.

A Short History by Eddie Daniels Kraken Press St. Paul 16