You don't know many people in your lifetime with only one name. Elvis. Sting. Elton. Roger?
"Roger?"
"Yeah, I saw him up the Fair at the Rodeo last week. Said he saw 'The Racing Pigs.' but missed 'Joey Chittwood's Thrill Show' 'cause it were jus' too dam hot."
"Seems like he got tired of sitting with the Sheriff, took his badge and went home."
"Yeah, I saw him up the Fair at the Rodeo last week. Said he saw 'The Racing Pigs.' but missed 'Joey Chittwood's Thrill Show' 'cause it were jus' too dam hot."
"Seems like he got tired of sitting with the Sheriff, took his badge and went home."
In the village of Voorheesville, New York, even Rogder's knew who you meant when you started talkin' 'bout Roger. We were his friends, and he was ours.
When my kids were little, and I was out working at my old '62 Mercury Comet in the back lot behind the Laundromat, Roger would come by and talk my ear off while I worked. In the sun. In the cold. In the rain. In the snow. One day my son was with us. I think he was five or six at the time. After we went back into the house he asked me: "Daddy, what language, does Roger speak?" You see Roger had a lisp. I'm not sure but I would guess it was the result of hearing loss. I don't know what happened, if he was born with it, or it happened to him. I guess I never asked. Didn't seem necessary, or right.
Anyway, if you were around him you just got it eventually. And if you didn't he was patient with you. You see, he spoke English, but I must have been feeling smart ass that day and jokingly I said to my son.
"French, he speaks French!"
Roger was what we called "Special." Smarter than he let on, but now days he would have been "mainstreamed." Things might have been different. As it is he worked for an re-upholstery place, ripping off old fabric 'till the place closed down. Then he went on "The County." But he was fiercely independent and lived life on his own terms. Even The County couldn't get him to quit smoking or drinking his Pop.
They took his Moped away for his own good when he was caught drinking and driving on it. Then he road a Ten Speed with a ten foot reflective flag off the back seat, so's you could see him the other side of the tracks at night, on his way home from The Gun Club, after he swept up at closing time. When his feet got bad and he mostly just stayed to South Main Street. Started sitting on the front porch or the bench outside the Laundromat.
"Roger? You mean "The 'Ol Cowboy" who sits out by the laundromat?"
"Sure, where's he been lately?"
"Ain't seen him around since 'got cold, must be hunkered, watchin' his Cowboy Shows."
"They sure funny."
"Sure, where's he been lately?"
"Ain't seen him around since 'got cold, must be hunkered, watchin' his Cowboy Shows."
"They sure funny."
If you're not from here, maybe you don't know what I'm talkin 'bout. Then again, this is small town America, maybe you do. See, Roge', started every conversation with: "How you?" not "Hey you!" 'Cause the first thing he always wanted to know was "How you do?" Later, he might tap you for a pack of smokes, or a bottle of pop, but by then you knew you were being tapped and you liked it. He knew everything about you, your ex-wife, your second cousin's bunion even.
"Oh, you up late today, me no hear toilet flush 'till ten terdy, me know you off today den. Me go-home, watch my horsy shows, come back later, when you come out for paper."
One day, years later, my daughter came marching home from school and announced: "I'm taking French in school, now we will be able to talk French!"
"What ever gave you the idea I could speak French?" I replied surprised.
"Devin says you can speak French 'cause you can talk to Roger..."
We took care of Roger. All of us. And he took care of us. All of us. If any one ever personified the physical embodiment of "Ferdinand The Bull" it were Roge. He smelled the flowers. He talked to the animals. He stopped traffic so "Swo-poke The Cat" could cross the road. He chattered at the squirrels. Scolded them when they were late crossing the phone wire, climbing down the pole to say good morning, while he greeted them from his porch chair. Then a neighbor came on, walking their new puppy and he was "Oh, I see you! Where my fren? You funny! Come'ere you, me miss you, yeah, he like me, oh you my buddy, yeah!" It's no wonder he believed in Santa all of his life!
I told Roger what had happened with my kids one day. How they thought we both could speak French. He thought it was the best! "That funny!" he said. Then he went into the Laundromat and told the next 5 people he met he could speak French. He was so proud!
"Me'n my fren Mawk, we speak like fore-ners. Na-nah, foo-foo. Hehe! We so funny!"
I said goodbye to my friend today. He went out like a real Cowboy. With his hat, pocket watch and six shooter. With his boots on. And there is a Big Big hole in my heart; where his heart once was. A heart that sure 'nough went to "The Big County Fair In The Sky." After he stopped at the Chicken Barn to look at the Roosters.
"They so funny! Wear silly hats."
You don't know many people in your lifetime with only one name. Elvis. Sting. Elton. Roger. Yeah, Roger!
