Writers: During the Editing Process I Went Back and Reworked Earlier Mysterious Incidents

Writers: During the editing process I went back and reworked earlier mysterious incidents involving Shamus so that they were somewhat more believable, and he was able to explain them with a conventional excuse. I did this so that the incident in this chapter is more profound and forces Shamus to look within.

Chapter Seven

Tending the Flock

“Trust me, Shamus, you don’ts wanna be crawlin’ 'round on no iron when you’s my age,” said

Charlie. “You’s like, twenty-what? Five?”

“Twenty-four, Charlie.”

“You’s got good knees, strong back, all your fingers,” Charlie held up his left hand missing the top of its ring finger, “but it don’t get no easier when you gets to be fifty doing this stuff, or sixty like me. Look around at the old-timers and count the ones that be smilin’, and the ones all bent over, bitchin’ they gotta climb down inside some dirty, stinkin’ tank to repair a leaky fuel oil pipe.”

Charlie Jenkins, Shamus’ foreman had a simple way of pouring his homegrown wisdom, dripping like warm butterscotch all over Shamus, and when he curled his thick brown lips up into a smile, Shamus would roll over like a six-week-old yellow lab who wanted his belly rubbed. MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 1 “Come on, Charlie. You know I don’t have any interest in being a boss. Could you imagine me at one of those meetings you guys all go to, listening to all the other foreman bullshit

Bucky about how smooth everything’s going when the whole goddamn job is going to shit? You know how I am. Bucky’d shit if he ever got a load of my act,” said Shamus, referring to Bucky

O’Brien, the superintendent.

“Shamus, I think you gots Mista Bucky all wrong. He’s enjoys rippin’ supervisors who don’t give him the straight scoop a new asshole. Man, some bosses goes whimperin’ out of them meetings like little babies. But I gots a sense Bucky’d like you.”

Shamus had only been out of his apprenticeship for a couple of years and already had a reputation as an expert mechanic. He was the youngest tradesman that supervisors would put in a position to lead jobs because the other men respected him, old-timers as well as young apprentices. At the weekly managers meeting, Bucky told the foreman that the shipyard was awarded a big contract that would require hundreds of new employees, which would create openings for foreman.

“Bucky asked us for recommendations for guys we think are supervisor material and one of the other bosses mentioned your name.”

“One of the other bosses, huh?” Shamus said sarcastically.

Charlie smiled. “So’s Bucky asked who this Shamus Gore works for and I raise my hand, but I says, ‘One thing, Mista Bucky,’ and he says, ‘What’s that, Charles?’ That’s what he calls me, Charles. Hee, hee. And I says, ‘I knows Shamus pretty good, and I gots a pretty strong notion he don’t have no interest in bein’ no boss. I tells him you’s young and likes your carryin’ on and all, and then one of the other bosses says, ‘Yeah, he worked for me and comes in some

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 2 days lookin’ like a pack of junkyard dogs got a hold of him; black eyes, smellin’ like a gin mill, but the kid works like a madman.’ You see, Shamus, everybody know your reputation.

“So’s anyway, Bucky says you’d be a good addition to the management team, and tells me to tell you to apply for the job.”

“Okay, Charlie, you told me. Now go find someone who’s interested.”

Charlie had Shamus back-peddling into the corner and was getting ready to unleash the knockout punch. “Why don’t you sits down right here, young man, and we’s gonna have some of these here my sister just shipped up from South Carolina.” Charlie reached into his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a big bag of pecans.

Shamus reached his hand into the bag and pulled out a handful of the huge, tan beauties.

Goddamn, Shamus thought, I can block a sucker punch from a quick-fisted bouncer, but this son of a bitch casts a spell on me without me ever seeing it coming. When he looked up, Charlie was shaking his head, giggling like a little schoolgirl. “Hee, hee, hee. You’s too much young man, but you’s gonna go places.”

Shamus walked into the interview dressed in work boots, new jeans and a black pullover turtleneck that flaunted the physique of an Adonis. He knew George McManus, the panel chairman, and recognized the other managers on the panel. The lone woman, Rita Cone, was an

Equal Employment Office rep with a face that could rattle a blind man. Managers thought she was a bitch, but Shamus found her sharp and witty the few times he talked to her on the job, and admired her because she was a genuine labor advocate.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 3 Shamus didn’t spend one minute preparing for the interview. He trusted his instincts more than education, and always ignored his bosses’ suggestions to take night classes the shipyard offered to aspiring managers. Instinct got him through twenty-five years, and he saw no reason to change. He made eye contact with the panel member to make sure each felt is presence, completely. McManus went through a list of ground rules about how the interview process would be conducted, and then began.

Shamus found the questions silly—what would you do if this or that happened, like if one of your employees came to work under the influence, was late, missed work often, his work sucked, had a women in your gang that guys were harassing, stuff he didn’t think about for more than a second before he answered. His answers weren’t from a management manual, they were from the way he lived his life, the way Claire raised him. As far as Shamus was concerned, books couldn’t change what was in a person’s heart. Knowledge, data and statistics were one thing; principles, compassion and goodwill were another. Shamus chose to live by the latter. The interview was winding down, and they asked the standard final question, “Why are you the best candidate for the job?”

Shamus pondered the absurdity of the question, and with more restraint than he thought he was capable, refrained from giving a sarcastic answer. “Look, the only reason I’m here is because Charlie Jenkins asked me to come.” He paused to watch their reaction, and then looked at George McManus, “I took the apprenticeship test six years ago because I figured I’d need a job after high school. I had no idea what a welder did, and the only thing I knew about ships was that they floated. I picked up welding pretty easily; in fact, I’m damn good at it. To be truthful,

I’d miss it if I became a boss. But even more than my trade, I love the guys,” he stopped and looked at Rita and smiled, “and the young women they’ve been hiring recently, of course.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 4 They’ve become my family. I spend more time with them than with Claire and my friends.” The panel members looked at one another, figuring Claire was his girlfriend, but nobody asked.

“So when Charlie wouldn’t stop breaking my… I mean, wouldn’t let up about interviewing for the job, I got to thinking that the guys would be better off around here if they had a little direction. Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s not enough leadership out on the iron,” Shamus thought, and then added, “except for Charlie, of course.

“You see, it’s real simple. Most people will work if they know what they’re expected to do. All you got to do is talk to them, show them. It’s not rocket science. There’s not enough bosses telling the folks out there on the waterfront what to do and how to do it. I don’t mean any disrespect to any of the bosses, but I know I could get people to be more productive, even guys the other bosses call bums, guys and gals on the fringe.”

Shamus pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “I’m not sure if that’s the answer you were looking for, but you asked why I’m the best one for the job, and that’s why.”

He turned and walked toward the door. The panel members watched without saying a word.

Shamus opened the door, and then stopped and turned around. “Oh, is the interview over?” They sat dumbfounded, and shook their heads.

After the door closed they sat in silence for a few seconds, and then slowly turned and looked at one another, knowing their top candidate had just left the room. They went through the motions—interviewed the remainder of the people on the list, the fiasco of rating and ranking, and prepared a memo with the top ten recommendations for Bucky to select from, but they’d already made up their minds who would be on the top of the list.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 5 Shamus hadn’t merely convinced them he could run the welding operations on the waterfront; shared with them something about how to live their own lives. In the course of a fifteen minute interview, the twenty-four year old welder shed light on how to raise their children, treat members of their own families, neighbors and friends. Rita, who knew she would be on the other side of the table from him at labor-management disputes, was crafting the words in her mind that she would use in her Thank You note to Shamus after the selection was made.

Shamus was immune to the management practice that experienced foreman referred to as

‘Unloading Deadwood,’ where they would each transfer two or three of their least desirable employees into a pool that would become a new foreman’s first gang. Bosses were always eager to unload their lame, maimed and insane, as kind of hazing for new foreman. A new boss who could get his ‘F Troop’ to complete a project passed indoctrination and showed potential to remain a manager.

Old Man Squash, Frog Man and Joe Mother Fucker led the pack that reported to Shamus on his first day as foreman. Shamus was amused, but kept a straight face when they assembled, and said, “Okay guys, you know the drill. I’m new, you guys got unloaded and nobody thinks we’ll get anything done. That’s bullshit. I’m not here to break your balls, just like I’m not here to prove them wrong. We’re here for one thing, to get this goddamn ship to float down the river and out to sea. You give me a good day, every day, and it’s easy money for all of us. You got questions, ask me and I’ll give you answers. You’re embarrassed because you been here for twenty years and don’t know what your supposed to do, ask me because I’ve seen how some of these asshole bosses pass you around like you got herpes or something. All right, let’s get to work.”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 6 It wasn’t long before Shamus would stop to talk to his men onboard ship and find himself in the middle of a crowd of workers. He enjoyed sharing his experience with anyone who would listen. Young apprentices, ace mechanics, those on fringe, the disgruntled were all the same to him. When he checked jobs in a boiler room or in a tank, it wasn’t only the welders who paid attention; the other tradesmen also listened. They all found his words useful beyond shipbuilding, and the talks stimulated Shamus, as well. Somehow, his messages about work always seemed to intermingle with lessons about life.

One afternoon Shamus was explaining the difference between welding chromium and stainless steel to some of his men and his dissertation migrated to compare shipbuilding with other great construction feats. “The challenges the workers faced erecting the 630-foot stainless steel Gateway Arch in St. Louis created a bond between them that lasted the remainder of their lives. The men grew to love the Arch because they overcame unimaginable challenges together.

It gave them such pride, they’d visit often with families and friends after it was completed. The

Arch became their legacy, just as the ships you build that will one day sail on the mighty seas, and the welds that hold them together against unrelenting forces of nature will be your legacy.”

What Shamus said next was something they never heard expected to hear in bowels of a ship. “There is no difference between you and your work. You manifest your being by your labor.” Shamus heard somebody whisper, “mani-what?” and he smiled. “If you take pride in your work, you will take pride in yourself.” There wasn’t a sound in the boiler room, and he looked out at amazed expressions on the workers faces, seven deep, maybe twenty-five men and women staring at him.

They began to refer to Shamus’ talks as sermons, which often became the topic of lunchtime discussions and conversations in the pubs after work. They’d repeat his sayings, as if

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 7 they were uttered by some venerated philosopher. Some of his talks were discussed at management meetings, and Bucky would lean back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk and puff on a cigar, smiling. The tales spread throughout the shipyard. Construction crews made up of rough men and hard drinkers, some ex-cons, and a few psychopaths, all respected Shamus.

Characters that other foreman found troublesome and chaotic, Shamus saw as colorful and fascinating. He loved them, every last one of them.

Shamus had an affinity towards young apprentices because they were idealistic and naïve. Some were misguided kids entering a dangerous and unforgiving work environment for the first time.

But they were also unscathed by bad attitudes and poor work habits that some malcontents would try to pass on to young workers.

Shamus had an immediate connection with Troy, a lean, six-foot-seven pole bean who played competitive whoops at night at a recreation center in North Philly. Troy would come to work early Tuesdays and Thursdays and Shamus would teach him welding technique and let him practice on exotic metals. Troy was a reliable kid, so it was unusual when he didn’t show up one

Thursday morning in August. Shamus knew the notorious inner-city streets were indiscriminant in who they claimed. The murder of young black men was so common that the news would be relegated to a two-inch article wedged between ads for underwear and auto parts in the Metro section of the Daily News.

He was relieved to hear Troy’s voice when he answered the phone. “Troy, where the hell were you today?”

“Shamus, I’m in trouble man. Real trouble.”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 8 “What do you mean, trouble?”

“I’m in jail, man.”

“For what?”

“Dealin’.”

“Dealing what, Troy?”

“Cocaine,” was a response Shamus wasn’t prepared for. He was stunned; convinced the cops nabbed the wrong guy.

“That’s impossible,” Shamus said in denial. “You work during the day, play basketball at night. How would you ever find time to be dealing?”

“I deal in the morning, man, before I come to the shipyard. I sell newspapers at Thirty- third and Girard and slip a bag in the paper for my clients. Actually, it’s pretty lucrative,” he said, followed by an unmistakable chuckle only Troy could get away with under such circumstances. “I was on track to be out of North Philly by the end of the summer man, and that would 'a been it for dealin’, honest.”

Shamus’ was already trying to think of a solution, maybe go down to the station and plead a case to the cops for his young apprentice. Instead, his frustration exploded. “Troy!”

In a low tone Troy said, “Look man, don’t judge me. How the fuck do you think a young black dude could ever get out of the 'hood making apprentice wages, six twenty-five an hour. I’d have to work eighty hours a week to get my own place. I’m fucked man.”

Troy’s honesty and humility humbled Shamus. “I won’t judge you, Troy. Is there anything I can do?” MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 9 “Yeah, Shamus. Would you to call my momma and let her know I’m all right? They only give me one call.”

“You made your one call to me?”

“Yeah, man. You’re the only one I could trust who would listen. My momma would ‘a been too upset to deal with it, then she would 'a come down here cryin’ and cussin’, and kicked my ass. She’ll know what to do. She got plenty of experience with my brother and all. Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine. When everything settles down I’ll be back,” he said, like it was part of the routine of growing up poor and black in the city.

“I just have one more question, Troy,” said Shamus, not sure if he wanted to know the answer. “Do you do the shit?”

“Fuck no, man. I’m an athlete!” he said proudly. A click and a dial tone followed.

Shamus was oblivious to the other foreman and workers walking in and out of the office; business as usual. He knew it was a rare dealer who didn’t do the shit, and he had a sinking feeling about Troy. The thought hurt him. One of the foreman walked over and said, “Shamus, you look like shit.”

Shamus got up out of his chair and said, “I feel like shit. Take care of my gang the rest of the day, I’m outta here.” He walked out with McGann’s and a pint of stout on his mind, but on his way to the parking lot he detoured to the human resource office and asked for Troy

Simpson’s home address. After he drove out the gate, he made a left toward West Philly.

He had no idea what he’d tell Misses Simpson. He could offer her a piece of what he had.

But what he had, he was not yet sure.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 10 ***

Denny didn’t fit the mold of the other guys that made up Shamus’ gang. The affable first-year apprentice was diligent and had a strong work ethic. His crystal blue eyes shined like stars that illuminated the darkest night, and his smile could cause female drivers to veer into head-on traffic. Shamus would tell him he was too good looking to be working in a shipyard; that he looked more the type he’d expect to sell clothing or pharmaceuticals. Denny was so likable that his outburst at a pipefitter one Friday afternoon, a confrontation that escalated to borderline madness, caught Shamus off guard.

Shamus put his arm around Denny and walked him down the pier to his office where he sat him down. When Denny explained the circumstances that led to the altercation, Shamus framed the situation in a manner that made Denny see how ridiculous he’d been. Still, the explosion revealed something lurking below the surface of his apprentice’s otherwise appealing demeanor. Denny was young, married, and jealous for no apparent reason. He hid his psychosis effectively with medication and Oscar-worthy acting, which nobody ever noticed, except

Shamus.

Denny had the classic traits of bipolar personality. Most days he’d appear like everyone else, but once he believed he was like everyone else, he’d neglect to take his medication. The only one he’d listen to was his wife, but sometimes she would have to drop off their daughter at daycare and go to work before Denny went to the shipyard, and he’d look at himself in the bathroom mirror, smile and then drop the pill down the drain. Those were the days that a different Denny showed up onboard ship. Shamus could see it in his eyes.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 11 After he calmed down, Shamus said, “Look at me Denny. You got to get yourself under control. I noticed changes before, but this was dangerous. This is the kind of stuff that could get you suspended, or even fired, and you don’t need that. If you don’t get yourself together, you’re going to hurt yourself, and you’ll take other people down with you. You have to think about the people who love you, you wife, your daughter. The key to respecting others starts with respecting yourself. Understand?”

Denny shook his head and said, “Yeah boss, thanks.”

“I told the guys to pack up your gear. You go home and get some rest over the weekend and I’ll see you Monday morning.” Denny stood up and walked toward the door and Shamus added, “And knock it off with the boss bullshit.”

Denny smiled and left.

Shamus was concerned when Denny didn’t show up Monday morning, but became inundated with work request and the morning got away from him. The ship was scheduled to go on sea trials in two weeks. The jobsite buzzed in controlled chaos preparing for the Review Board that would arrive on Wednesday morning. Every swinging dick with a pulse was working twelve- hour shifts, seven days a week. No leave was approved until after the ship went down the river, nobody dared to call in sick because they dreaded a return call laced with profanity.

There was no answer when Shamus called Denny’s house at lunchtime. He checked with the other foreman and talked with some guys who lived near Denny’s apartment in Manayunk.

Nobody had heard from him. One of the guys said he saw Denny walking to the parking lot

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 12 Friday afternoon screaming to himself, and then got in his car and fishtailed out onto the street.

Shamus didn’t have a good feeling.

When he got back to his office later in the afternoon, he saw the red message light blinking on his phone. A young, shaky female voice was on the other end. “Mr. Gore, this is

Jackie McMann, Denny’s wife. I wanted to check to see if Denny was at work today. I’m worried about him. Please call me.”

Shamus looked up Denny’s home phone number and called back.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jackie. This is Shamus Gore. Denny didn’t show up for work today. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve been out looking for him since last night and can’t find him.” A burst of sobbing, and then in a quivering voice, she said, “I’m afraid he’s done something terrible.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hadn’t been taking his medication and was going into these rages all weekend. I was afraid he was going to hurt the baby, all the screaming and throwing things. He said he couldn’t take it anymore, that he was going to end it all, and stormed out of the house.”

“Did you call the police?”

“No, I was afraid to. Everyone in the family and some of his friends have been looking for him. I’m scared.” She broke down crying.

“Listen to me, Jackie. If you’re afraid Denny might harm himself, call the police. I’ll call if you want me to. They need to know exactly what you just told me. I’ll ask the guys who know

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 13 him where he might be and let you know whatever I find out. In the meantime, take care of your daughter. I’m sure he’s okay.” In his heart, Shamus didn’t believe the last thing he told her.

Shamus walked back up the pier and crossed the gangway onto the ship. He was swamped with work request before he could get to his men, so grabbed one of his guys who walked by and told him to spread the word about Denny and to get back to him with any useful information. The afternoon turned into night and all was quiet.

Shamus called Jackie back around seven o’clock. She had reported Denny missing to the police, but hadn’t heard anything. He left the shipyard at eight-thirty and headed to McGann’s.

Grog began drawing a pint as soon as he saw Shamus walk through the door. “How’s the ship comin’, Shamus?”

“We’ll go down the river on schedule in two weeks. I can’t wait to get away from the pier with all the damn dignitaries that keep coming around for photo ops. I haven’t met one of them yet who looks like he ever broke a sweat.”

Grog walked over, placed the pint in front of Shamus, and said, “Here you go, buddy.”

“Gimme a shot of Redbreast too, will ya Grog?”

“On a Monday? You usually don’t celebrate until you return from sea trials. What’s up?”

“Yeah, I know,” said Shamus, introspectively. “Some young kid, apprentice, didn’t show up today.”

“Is he that much of a pain in the ass that you’re celebrating he didn’t make it to work?”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 14 “No. Actually the other way around. He’s a good kid. But he had a blowup Friday that really threw me. I saw a side to him that was scary. His wife left me a message this morning and when I called her back her voice was trembling, she could barely talk. She asked me if he was at work; said she was afraid he’d do something terrible. Something’s not right.” Shamus threw back the Redbreast.

Grog refilled the shot glass. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Shame. You’ll go in tomorrow and he’ll be there waiting for you, maybe with a little hangover. You know young guys. I remember you not too long ago. Actually, I still don’t know how the hell you make it to work in the condition you leave here after last call sometimes.” Shamus smiled.

“Yeah, I told her the same thing, everything will be okay. Only thing is, I didn’t believe it myself; didn’t believe my own words, Grog. I sense something’s wrong.” He threw down the second shot and washed it down with stout. Grog was about to give him a refill and Shamus put his hand over the glass. “Don’t bother buddy.”

“Ten o’clock?”

“I’m gonna call it an early night. I need to be ready for tomorrow.”

Halfie walked over from the shuffleboard table when he saw Shamus get up. “Hey,

Shame. Mack’s getting out of the Detention Center for Thanksgiving and we’re planning a little bash.”

Shamus reached out and put his hand on Halfie’s shoulder. “Bad timing, my friend,” said

Shamus, and walked out the door. Halfie stood staring into space.

The brisk October air wrapped itself around Shamus when he walked outside, and he stopped and stood on the cement landing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; then slowly MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 15 exhaled and looked up at the stars shining so bright it had to be a miracle. Shamus looked to the constellations, the heavens, for guidance and for confirmation, just as the earliest navigators had.

It was too spectacular a night to drive, and Shamus walked passed his car for the short walk up

Longshore Street. He crossed under the railroad bridge; neighborhood residences were in a slumber. Sporadic street lights cast nebulous shadows, random lights shone from bedroom windows. The only sound was the scraping of his work boots against the sidewalk.

A blast shook the stillness in the Tacony sky, and a plug felt as if it had been pulled and was draining Shamus’ heart. He doubled over, sank to all fours, crawled into Keystone Park and rolled over on his back. The blast still echoed in his head as he eyes closed. Eventually, the sound faded.

There was no way for him to know how long he’d been laying there when he opened his eyes, but the moon was fuller, the stars impossibly brilliant. Crisp air filled his lungs. The tension of the day was gone, worry nonexistent; he was refreshed. His eyes widened like he’d seen the sublime, and his spirit filled, becoming whole again, though he never knew he was wanting.

Shamus rolled back over onto all fours, staring at the grass sticking up through his fingers. He pushed himself back onto his feet, but remained squatted a moment before he stood, slowly, and stretched his arms to the heavens. A searing, “Arrahhhhhhh!” bellowed from deep inside him.

Shamus smiled and walked out of the park back out onto Longshore Street, and continued home.

When got to the corner on Torresdale Avenue, he stopped and looked at the bank clock. It was two forty-five.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 16 It was still dark at six o’clock Tuesday morning. A stiff wind blew across the gangway as

Shamus walked onto the ship. He gave his men their jobs, and left one unassigned, like a pair of empty boots left at The Wall. After everyone settled into their jobs, Shamus returned to the office. When he opened the door Bucky and his general foreman were waiting with a somber expression on their faces.

“Where’d they find him?” asked Shamus.

Bucky looked at Shamus curiously, “How did you know?”

Shamus didn’t respond for a moment. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “How did he end it?”

“Bullet through the head, shotgun lying on the floor next to him.” Shamus didn’t utter a word, so Bucky continued, “In a motel in South Philly.”

His bosses were mystified by Shamus’ reaction, like he had known, and was relieved.

“What time?”

“Cops said the motel owner called when he heard a blast about ten-fifteen.”

Shamus nodded in confirmation. “I’m going to go tell my men.” He stood and walked to the office door. He turned around and said, “After I talk to the guys, I’ll put someone in charge for the rest of the day. I have to go see Jackie.”

“Jackie?” said Bucky.

“Jackie McMann. Denny’s wife.”

Bucky and the general foreman looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 17 Shamus closed the door behind him and walked back down the pier. He envisioned a bullet through that handsome face with the shocking blue eyes, a twisted smile. He grabbed one of his guys on the gangway and told him to tell the rest of the gang to meet in his office in fifteen minutes.

Denny’s coworkers read the news on Shamus’ face before he said a word. “Denny is finally at peace, fellows. He won’t be tortured by his demons anymore.”

Heads bowed; a few sobs. One of the men asked, “Can we do anything, boss?”

Shamus said, “The only way I know to honor a fallen brother is with your sweat, blood and your talent. It’s the best memoriam anyone could give a brother who’d passed. Keep Denny and his family, his wife and little girl, in your prayers, or whatever the hell it is that you do. It’s what Denny would have wanted. I’ll let you know when I hear of any arrangements.”

Except for weddings and funerals, Shamus hadn’t set foot inside a church since elementary school, but something about the stone façade, its age and the way Saint John the Baptist church sat on a hill in Manayunk made him feel comfortable. He admired the vaulted ceiling, the marble and thick oak beams while he waited in a long line to pay his respects. At the head of the casket was a pretty young blonde, who he figured was Jackie, and across from her in the pew was a baby seat.

Shamus knelt next to the body and admired the mortician’s craftsmanship, not even a blemish on Denny’s face. He stood and rubbed the back of his hand on Denny’s cheek, smiled and walked over to the young woman. “You must be Jackie. I’m sorry we have to meet you like this. Denny was the bravest kid I ever met.”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 18 “Shamus?” He shook his head in acknowledgement. “I feel like I know you. Denny talked about you often. He admired you.”

Shamus smiled. “I’m going to miss him. We’re all going to miss him. He was a good kid.” He looked at the baby. “Your daughter is beautiful.”

Jackie took Shamus’ arm and walked him over to the baby seat. “This is little Denni.”

“Damn! Look at those eyes. No mistaking where she got them.” Jackie stroked her little girl’s face and smiled. Shamus leaned down and kissed Denni’s forehead and then hugged Jackie and said, “You be strong for her.”

Jackie wept, and held Shamus tight. When she eased her embrace and said, “Shamus, this is so awkward, but could I ask you to do me a favor?”

“Whatever you need, Jackie.”

“Most of Denny’s friends are kind of messed up, and his parents are a wreck. Denny would always come home from work and tell me about these talks you would give. I know they helped him. Would it be too much to ask you to say a few words at the end of the service?

Nothing big. Just a word or two.”

Shamus saw Denny in her eyes. “I’d be honored, Jackie.”

When the service concluded, the priest walked to a seat at the side of the alter. Jackie turned around, and her eyes met Shamus’. He smiled and stood. On the way to the alter he made a fist, kissed his hand and opened it, and ran his fingertips along the length of the casket. He climbed the two steps up to the pulpit, looked out over the large gathering and smiled. Young people usually have the biggest funerals, he thought, everyone still living, family and friends.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 19 Parents should never have to bury their children, husbands usually go before wives, and kids should get to know their fathers.

He hadn’t given Jackie’s request a thought since she asked him before the service began, but he trusted his instincts, had confidence in his words, faith in his message, though he never worked on a message. Whatever the message was, it was inside him, perhaps from the vespers

Claire whispered in his ear when he was an infant, or something he inherited from Seán, something in his DNA. He didn’t know; didn’t care. He just knew he had it, and it was surging to conviction.

“A kid showed up for work one morning not long ago waiting for me to give him a job. I looked at this good looking, frightened apprentice, and something about him immediately captured my heart. His eyes were more complex than those of an innocent kid; they had depth and intensity that belonged to someone who’d had experiences well beyond his years. And when

Denny spoke, he confirmed he was no ordinary kid. That feeling remained unchanged for as long as I knew him. It remains with me as I stand here now.” The church was silent, and still.

“We all go through life—wake up, go to work, come home and see our family, play ball, go to the pub, whatever, then go to bed and start over again. Denny did all that and more. He dealt with things that are beyond our comprehension; he dealt with unimaginable torment.

“I once heard someone say that nobody is given more than they are able to handle. I can’t believe that is true, unless I believe Denny is where he is supposed to be, that his work here was finished and he was meant to move on. To where? I don’t know. But I do know this: a part of

Denny is in everyone whose life he touched. His life, his courage and strength, will be with us for the rest of our days. Denny’s memory will help us be more conscious of all that we have—

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 20 our families, friends, our work, our play. Never take anything for granted. Honor his memory every opportunity you get, in every encounter, with everyone. Don’t leave anything inside.”

At twenty-four, Shamus possessed the wisdom it would take a philosopher a lifetime to accumulate. He rebuked the heresy he witnessed in elementary school and decided to follow his own doctrine, one that was an amalgamation extracted from many feeds—the wisdom of Claire, the way Maxie treated the coal cracker widows, Noel’s words. He consumed it all, digested the truth, and spit out what tasted foul.

Shamus walked back down the steps and repeated the gesture sliding his fingers along the rim of the casket, and imagined Denny inside matching his touch. He felt someone was watching over him, and when he looked up, above the choir loft, an impalpable image gleamed through the stain glass window.

The ship went down the river the following week, and returned ten days later with the highest sea trials scores ever recorded by the shipyard. The ship docked eight o’clock Thursday morning and weary pipefitters, boilermakers and welders dragged-ass off the gangplank, but once they set foot on land weariness gave way to celebration. Shamus walked out to his car and drove to

McGann’s. Doc, the ruddy-faced daytime bartender, was surprised to see Shamus at mid- morning. “What ja get fired?” he asked, as he began to draw a pint.

“No such luck, Doc. Just got back from sea trials.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. Real good.” Doc walked over and placed the pint in front of Shamus. “Make it a

Redbreast too.”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 21 “It’s nine o’clock in the morning, you know?”

“And set up a second Redbreast.”

“You got someone comin’?”

“Yeah.” Shamus threw down the first shot and took a sip of stout. Then he gazed contemplatively as Doc filled the second shot glass. He picked it up, inhaled the sweetness of the triple distilled barley. “Hey, Doc.”

“What is it, young man?”

“Tell me that Irish proverb you’re always saying.”

Doc smiled. “What butter and whiskey won’t cure, there is no cure for.”

Shamus placed the full shot glass back down, turned and walked out the door with all but a sip missing from the pint.

It wasn’t yet noon and Shamus was ragged, but he’d waited ten days to take this walk. He made a right outside of the pub and headed up Longshore Street, under the railroad bridge and into Keystone Park. He sat in the spot he fell the night the shot rang out, pulled his knees against his chest and looked up into the heavens.

Shamus never took time to reflect, but contemplation came to him now. He acknowledged to himself that he had heard the gun blast that ended Denny’s life, though it was impossible to hear a shot in Tacony that was fired in South Philly. It was just as impossible that the same shot felled him and drained every bit of life from his heart. For the first time, Shamus confronted his existence and fear seethed to invade him, but he resisted with every ounce of his being, and shouted out, “Why?” looking up into a cloudy afternoon sky, drizzle misting his face.

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 22 He thought of the eulogy at Denny’s funeral. He hadn’t prepared for even one second, and the words of his childhood buddy were woven into his message. His voice cracked, “How?” he asked. “How was it that I saw Maxie in a haze before I knew he was dead on the side of the

Schuylkill Expressway? How was it that a blast dropped me in Keystone Park at the moment that

Denny took his own life? And how was it that Noel’s words spilled from my lips in a church full of people?”

It was a pleasantly dreary afternoon, and the most refreshing drizzle he’d ever felt fell upon him. Shamus closed his eyes and ran his hands back through his hair, and then his fingertips down his beard. He rubbed his eyes and before he opened them he imagined a face smiling down, a elusive, indistinguishable face.

“How?” he cried. “Why?”

Shamus knocked before he slid the key into the keyhole. He cracked the door to see if Claire was asleep in her chair, and his senses filled with the smell of grilled onions and bacon. He tip-toed through the living room, “Claire,” he said, in a slightly raised voice so he wouldn’t startle her when he poked his head into the kitchen.

“Shamus. What, did you smell the food all the way from Tacony?”

“Funny, Claire.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I am now.”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 23 The only sound in the tiny row house kitchen was the scraping of silverware to china, and an occasional belch. Claire watched Shamus devour his steak and eggs with the contentment of a mother bear cuddling her cub. Shamus was full, and his intent to ask her about Seán resolute.

Claire sensed from his unusual silence that he had more on his mind than food; something of weight and depth. She had the instincts of a sage, and she felt an enormity she hadn’t felt since shortly before his birth.

“You saved me work, Shamus. I’ll be able to put that plate right back in the cupboard,” she said in a tone of uneasiness.

He looked at her and smiled. “You are a master cook, Claire,” replied Shamus, astutely interpreting her mood.

She looked at him perceptively, and Shamus, her flesh, her blood, her soul, returned her gaze knowingly.

“Claire, I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” She hadn’t heard the tone since he was a little boy, when she’d take him downtown and he’d ask about the people sitting, leaning against the side of buildings with a cup in their hands; the unkempt children with sneaker soles that flapped against the sidewalk; the women with hollowness in their eyes.

“You want to talk, do you?”

“Yes, Claire. I do.”

“What is it that’s on your mind?”

“I need to know about Seán. Was he perceptive? Was he persuasive? Mom, I’d like to know more about my father; what he was like. Was he influential?”

MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 24 “’Perceptive? Persuasive? Influential?’ Shamus, tell me where this is all coming from.’”

“I have some things to tell you that, well, I don’t know where to start, or how to explain them.”

Claire said, “Do your best, my Dear.”

They both knew they were about to enter territory they’d never navigated together. The words, their context, their tone, were all precursors to the inevitable conversation.

“From an early age, I could always do stuff other kids couldn’t do. I could talk my way out of jams. I always thought I was just a good talker or something. But as I got older I was able to talk down some really tough characters, I mean like a homicidal ex-con bouncer who’d done time for murder who had me pinned against a wall. Then it became more than talking. I knew stuff there was no reasonable explanation of how I knew. Like I knew that bouncer’s name; I just knew it.

“Recently I got to thinking about things I never gave a second thought. I remembered a vision I had about that guy Maxie I worked with. I saw him in some mystical state before I found out he was dead. I mean I saw him clearly, and had a conversation with him.”

Claire wasn’t the least bit flustered, as if she’d heard it all before. “Oh, Honey,” she said, with love was in her eyes.

“Wait, Mom,” said Shamus. “I have to tell you what happened that made me need to talk to you.” Shamus lowered his head, took a deep breath and exhaled. “That kid who worked for me, the one who blew his brains out in a motel in South Philly. Mom, the night he shot himself I heard the shot as clear as if I was in the motel room with him, and I was in Tacony. My body drained and I passed out in Keystone Park at the exact time he killed himself. MoFS – Tending the Flock jmb Page 25 “Mom, I need to know why I am able to do these things. I need to know about my past, my heritage. I need to know about Seán, who he was, what he was like. I need to know if Seán had any kind of intuition, powers. Mom, tell me all about my father.”

Claire’s eyes were full, tears pushed out from their corners. “Seán was the most wonderful man I’d ever met,” she said, and then she began shaking, and broke down and cried uncontrollably. Claire was Shamus’ rock, and his rock was weeping. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in the knoll of her neck, both faces drenched.

“That’s okay, Mom,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek.

Claire raised her head. “I’m sorry, Honey. It’s just so upsetting. I knew one day we’d have this conversation. It’s just so hard to talk about the person you loved more than life itself, the person who was your life. I want to tell you all about Seán, and I will. I just need time to get myself together. I need to prepare myself. Please understand.”

“Sure, Mom. You tell me when you are ready. There is so much I have to know.”

“And you will, my Love.”

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