The Mayor

Papa always seemed a giant among men. Does everyone inherently feel that way about their father? Maybe it was his tall stature, or his persistently calm demeanor, or perhaps it was the smile that emanated from way down deep inside that made each one of us feel as though everything would be okay as long as Papa was around. Apparently we were not the only ones who felt that way. Papa was elected mayor of our hometown of Navasota. I look back now and wonder where in the world he found the time to take the reins of this small town. I am sure he thought if he could run his extraordinarily large family with an appearance of success, then running the town would be nothing. Part of the confidence people placed in my dad came from the unquestioning supposition that he would always do what was right. If we ever found ourselves wavering on what we should or should not do, he would tilt his head to the side a little, and calmly say, “Just do what you feel is right.” No more questioning, no arguing and no explanations. Just the calm delivery of his basic philosophy of life, and his absolute belief in us. He lived pretty simply for someone who seemed so important. He would leave his charcoal plant and head for a meeting with the town council. Papa did not run home and change clothes. He would just fold his long legs to scrunch his 6 foot 2 inch frame in his tiny car, head for town hall, stomp his charcoal covered feet at the door and become the town’s mayor as he entered the building dusting the black soot off of his clothes. He was real. He was honest. He was stable. I am sure he was to Navasota what he was to our family. The voice of reason in a mass of confusion. The reality that there is so much goodness all around us if we just take a minute to look. The gentleness that makes you understand that there is beauty everywhere; in clouds, in colors, in architecture, in food, in family, in Sunday drives, in quiet, and even in chaos.

Papa would never dream of calling in favors by using his position of mayor. His children, however, seemed to have a little trouble understanding this particular stand. There were times when “my dad’s the mayor” just came in way too handy. Bill and Martin in particular seemed to invoke that statement much more often than the rest of us. One of the major advantages of being part of a large family is that playmates were built in. Bill and Martin woke up every morning ready for an adventure. Their imaginations sparked such remarkable excursions! I am sure that most of these exploits did not intend to involve the law, but with them, even a simple game of good old neighborhood football could provide extra excitement. On one particular occasion, the gang had gathered at the football field for a quick pick-up game. The next play was on the verge of being snapped when Bill’s attention was drawn toward a movement off to the side of the field. As the boys studied the object, they noticed that whatever was causing the commotion was closing in on them. And “it” was coming at them pretty fast. But, they knew no fear. They were the self-appointed protectors of the city of Navasota, Texas. As the object drew nearer, they all stood stock still and watched in amazement as the animal came loping toward them. According to the story the animal was an escaped kangaroo. As their interest grew, so did the realization that if this was indeed an animal that had escaped from a circus (and where else would a kangaroo come from?) then there would no doubt be quite a sizeable reward for its capture and return. The kangaroo leapt across the entire width of the football field in only 2 gigantic bounds, and the boys were in hot pursuit. Now, you must keep in mind that the adventure started on the actual high school football field which was close to downtown Navasota. Their chase took them past the statue of LaSalle and behind houses. They sailed past downtown businesses and darted through alleyways. The caravan of kids chased the kangaroo to a vacant house which the animal skirted beneath to hide (or rest). According to who tells the story, it was without any thoughts of danger to themselves and only the desire to protect all of Navasota that they tried to crawl under the house to flush out the beast. Our dog, Tinker, growled and snapped at the boys as she tried to protect them from their zealousness. The dog was the only thing standing between the boys and the underground hiding spot of the animal. After several anxious moments, the kangaroo made a mad dash from the back side of the house and the chase continued. They ran back through the streets of downtown and headed to the creek which runs through Navasota. Finally, they had the animal cornered. After studying the situation, the boys were not sure what to do next. Although it was hidden in the brush and not plainly visible, the animal was definitely trapped. The gang decided they would need extra reinforcements to capture the beast. They played a quick paper, rock, scissors game to decide who would call the police this time. Martin, the youngest in the group, lost and had to make the rescue call. Martin called for the help of Navasota’s finest. Now, the police department had experienced calls from the Swanson kids before and tried to be polite and understanding as they told the boys to let the animal go. Kangaroos would probably not inflict harm on anyone. But persistence, and a vision of the weapons that could be bought with reward money, ignited their desire to succeed and they would not be put off so easily. This was not Martin’s lucky day as the 2nd paper, rock, scissors routine landed him the odd man out once again. He repeated the call to the police department and announced that his dad was mayor and if someone did not come out to help with this situation, and come quickly, he would have them all fired. Not only the police, but the fire department as well became involved in the hunt for the escaped kangaroo. It seems that the animal was captured quite easily once the law arrived on the scene. As it turned out, the animal was not actually a kangaroo. When you think about it, a greyhound dog could easily be confused with a kangaroo if it was being chased and was traveling at a high rate of speed.

Papa was not the only important person in town. The boys had a club whose main mission was the protection of the citizens of Navasota. The club, whose numbers varied but seemed to hover around ten, had meeting places all over town. However, the headquarters of “The Home of the Brave” was the old Emory home down the street from our house. This house was vacant and was on a huge lot overgrown with bushes, trees, and brush. An absolute paradise for young fertile imaginations. The clubs main purpose was to protect everyone from the Russians. Every single day they would add to their arsenal. The trees were loaded with bottle rockets aimed in every direction. The members all sported blisters as the lot was eventually filled with deep trenches and holes that were camouflaged with brush. Sling shots were ready should the enemy attack. B-B guns were secreted away. Extra supplies of food and drink were always kept on hand. And, daily each of the boys would take a little of their lunch money to beef up the club’s account. To make sure the money was safe; they buried the funds on the vacant lot right next to their headquarters. After a plan of attack was mapped out in case of a Russian invasion, and all weapons were properly positioned, the boys went about their other business. You know, the business of camping out, playing whatever ball that was in season, building things, roasting birds (with or without cleaning them), chasing kangaroos, spying, and any other activities that came to mind. Since the Russians never did actually attack, the vacant lot with all of its weapons was almost forgotten. They did find out later, however, that their traps worked. When new construction started in that area, several workmen fell into ditches. When brush and trash were burned, the bottle rockets did not scare the Russians, but carpenters ran for cover. Even invoking the “my dad’s the mayor” line did not convince the crews to tear up the slab so that the club’s money chest could be recovered.

I guess my mother was lucky in that she really did not have time to wonder where the boys would be heading as they left home each day to pursue another adventure. And, I am sure that my dad may have cringed a little when he found out that the boys pulled rank on the policemen by informing them that their dad was mayor. Was my mother too busy to worry, or did she just let her sons gain confidence by giving them time to explore life on their own? Was it the easy way out for my Dad to just encourage us to “do the right thing” or was it more difficult for him to bite his tongue as he watched us try to understand for ourselves what really felt right? Even though he may not have approved of the boys using his title to get what they needed, I can see the smile that could not be suppressed each time the kangaroo story was told. I watch the way that my brothers still rush to rescue others to this day and know that there are bottle rockets still in position if they are ever needed. In their actions I see the gentleness, the kindness and the beauty that Papa was always aching for us to see. I see his head tilted and his smile spreading as his boys gently remind me that I am still surrounded by so much goodness no matter how heavy my heart feels. And anyway, if things don’t pan out like we want them to, we can always listen. I am sure we can still call on the mayor for advice.