Character Sketch for Arthur Przybyszewski

 Superior Donuts by Tracy Letts

I’m the proprietor of a lackluster donut shop in 1988 and have been for a long time now.  I was born on Xmas eve, 1948, raised in Chicago, but not the South side.  My early life was normal.

Nothing traumatic happened to me until my late teens when I was peripherally involved in one of the 1966 riots.  I was mixed in with the rioters and an Irish policeman busted my skull with a night stick and worked me over.  No serious physical injuries but it had a profound effect on my outlook on life.  Once a guy has been beat up, it’s normal to turn into a rabbit.

It was shortly after this event that I received my notice to report for duty and go to Viet Nam.  Well, I took the bus to Toronto and evaded the draft.  I’ve lived with that.

The reason for evading the draft was more that I feared what might happen to me.  I could have cited a lot of bullshit reasons, but I’ve come to realize that it was simply being scared.  This has shown up often in my life since and I think it all goes back to that fateful night the cop whacked me on the head.

If I look in the mirror, which I do as infrequently as possible, I see a somewhat unkempt image.  It is unshaven but not to grow a beard.  I see the need for a haircut.  I’d have to turn my head a little to see my ponytail, it’s a statement.  I can’t see it, but I probably don’t smell all that good.  Not something I would know since my smell is saturated with me.   I align with hippies, “peace man.”

Anyone critically familiar with me would say, “Arthur’s a scaredy cat who just doesn’t care.”  It sort of shows in almost all my dealings with people.  Even those that could occur, don’t because of it.  I don’t normally take the initiative with people, and I tend to let them have their way with me.

My business would indicate to an impartial observer a decided lack of interest in making any more of it than there already is.  A storefront, a counter with stools to accommodate 6 people, a register with another smaller, waist-high, counter for take-out.  We sell coffee and donuts, superior donuts.

What makes them superior is the recipe that was handed down to me.  They are the best anywhere and there are a lot of people who come back again and again to buy them.

Then, the other night, someone broke in and vandalized the place and spray painted the word, “PUSSY” in red on the wall.  I called the police, but they didn’t seem to offer anything but a little sarcastic sympathy.  One officer does seem a little concerned and has been in several times to touch base.

I recently lost my counterperson and would replace him with the right person.  So far no one has applied, and I haven’t really been asking around all that much.  I just don’t care.

Who do we have here?  Some kid just walked into my shop. 

Getting the Wherewithal (Haiku)

 

One has to question

To gain from a transaction

What's in it for me?

Giving it away

Does not buy the groceries

Nor allow respect

This is as much advice for the author to follow as well as the reader.  Only when gain is the desired outcome.

Life and Living

We live with the arrogance of youth and the intransigence of the aged.  One group morphs into the other.

What Attracted You to Her?

When a daughter was here last, she asked me what attracted me to Carola, my wife of now 62 years.  I didn't have a ready answer for her and thought about it.  Remembering that we first met in December of 1954, and keeping it in the perspective of that time and until 1961 when we got married, it took me a while to formulate a good answer.  So here it is, as well as I can recall.

It is a multi-part answer.  She was/is pretty.  She was fun to be around.  She wanted to play (participate) and not be just a spectator.  She was smart and realistic.  Not necessarily a dreamer but she bought into my dreams for a life together. She was always her own person.  She is/was independent, yet subordinate.  And her family accepted me.  Bert, her father, gave me good advice but only when I asked.   And above all, she didn't express high hopes for anything from me.

My instincts about her turned out to be right.  She arranged our wedding, set up our households, moved several times on her own because I went ahead for the job.  She assured the schooling of our three children, from elementary through high school.  Worked and participated at the schools to make sure they got the right teachers.  She saw to their success much more so than I.  

When the children were pretty much grown, she went to work, peddling baskets; and ran a franchise office for a group in Hampton, VA.  She opened it, ran it, took over the bookkeeping, and then closed it for them when the franchisor backed out on them.  Even finessed the clients from claiming ongoing support for the product.  Later, in our own franchised business, we were partners.  When we disagreed, we were able to work it out.  Often, she was right.  

She willingly went wherever we needed to be, whether it was to live or visit.  In France, she made sure we saw Europe, all of France, Germany, Italy, and England by arranging trips for us.  She always found a group of women with whom to associate.

She was an astute politician and, in her sorority, grew personally because of it.  She overcame her reluctance to be in the spotlight, because her participation in that group required her to be there.  A major contributor to her success was when she took the Dale Carnegie course.  She wouldn't let me come with her at first, then after session 5, she invited me to come.

There's a lot more to her than people think.  Reflecting, I think we led our two different lives, together. 

Character Sketch for Santa in Murder on 34th Street

The origins of Santa’s image and person go back to the 4^th Century.  But as the years passed, Santa Claus has evolved into a large, heavyset person.  One of the first artists to define Santa Claus's modern image was Thomas Nast, an American cartoonist of the 19th century who immortalized Santa Claus, dressed in an American Flag. That changed to a wintery red suit, trimmed with white fur and a matching hat.  In the Nast drawing, Santa is also in a sleigh pulled by reindeer.  This image remained and was reinforced by the poem The Night Before Christmas.

Every year, as winds become increasingly cold in Indian Summer, and a night-time rain settles in Central Park, as from a Nor’easter, until almost dawn, it leaves a dense fog.  It is out of this fog that we appear, Santa, that’s me, my wife, Merrie, and our associates, Eve, Holly, Noel, Nicholas.  At first, we wander, willy nilly, as we find our bearings and eventually head unerringly to the headquarters of Santa Inc, located in the metropolis of New York City.

We are a figment of imagination, that of thousands, nay millions, of little ones who think life is filled with joy, the kind experienced from receiving toys and gifts. 

We’ve been doing this now for more than 100 years.  We haven’t realized we are doing the same thing, over and over, never aging, never getting any wiser, just coming in, doing Christmas, and leaving again for another year.

Our timing for the big one is Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in the City.  I make my first personal appearance of the year at that parade to the joy and excitement of little ones everywhere.

Santa Inc is run by Merrie, my capable wife, and a supporting staff.  I am the front man; it is my image that children everywhere expect to see.  The rest of the staff, including Merrie, work with me to maintain that image.

As for me, I am the stereotypical Santa Claus, jolly, rotund, kind, and generous.  I have not been assertive in the organization of Santa Inc because Merrie is fully capable of running the show.  It isn't that I don't feel I could, I prefer to have someone else do it.

It has become apparent that there is growing unrest among us.  Changes in business operations, mainly digital technology, have given rise to thoughts of “the real world,” of which we are not a part.  Also, romance is blooming between two of our staff.  I am surprised the unrest hadn’t started long before now.  I fear that one of us will take precipitous action to cause change. 

Operating Manual (Haiku)

 

Short, fast, and least work

This we all seek, endlessly

Not even aware

At times successful

At other times, try again

But always seeking

Do it, try again

It is all trial and error

Until perfected

And not just humans

All animals' and insects'

Operating rules

Another example of brevity in the explanation of life and living.

Hijacked!

 

In the office of my eye doctor, in 2003, I was looking at magazines while I waited.  Being in the business, I noticed two things: #1 the magazines were from the year 2000; and #2 not one of the ads contained an internet address.  This indicated the flux in which we were.  It was interesting to me, and I made mental note of it.

An hour later, while waiting in the lobby for the Rotary Club meeting and lunch to commence in the Archibald Room of the Galt House, I told a visiting Rotarian from Bowling Green of my experience.  A short time later we were, by chance, sitting at the same table among the 350 members present, it was a very large club.  This same guy was sitting across from me at a table for eight.

Much to my surprise and chagrin, he related that while he was waiting for his eye appointment, he noticed the absence of internet addresses in the ads in the magazines which were from about the year 2000!  I was astounded.  

He hijacked my experience. Decorum kept me from calling him out.  Now 20 years later, I still feel a little resentment towards him, even though I don't even remember what he looked like.  He may be related to Joe Biden.