I remember as a wee man, one day a Mr. Parsons was at my home when I arrived from school. He was making a brick mantle and shit behind our woodstove downstairs in the basement. I spent - what seemed like- all day with him asking questions and watching his trowel lift and place motar on the wall and lay brick neatly, one atop the other in staggered rows. There was a pleasant smell of brick dust and mixed motar, a musty smell, like that of my grandparents' vegetable cellar. The sound the trowel made as it scooped up the grey mud againt the metal board was satisfying every yearning my ears where in need of. The sound was complicated with bass and treble it had a pitch and a particular rhythm to it which I could count as Mr. Parsons without missing a beat, spread motar along the brown brick. The scraping of metal with the grit of the mud in between was nearly hypnotizing. The mud was prepared in a heavy plastic which lay on the floor protecting the carpet. Many times I bent over to smell the mixture on the plastic and stick not only my finger but tissue, wood, crayons and even slathered some over a piece of paper, all to see the after effects.
I had certainly spent an hour and a half with Mr. Parsons talking and asking him about his work in as much as a 9 year old kid's comprehension would allow. I found it interesting and for that short time, him and I were friends. Our conversation was light but mutually respected, I asked questions and he gave answers. I made sure too, not to pester him as he was there to perform a job. I remember joking around in the simple way a boy and a man could, so it was some surprise to me when my Dad came home and I made an "off" comment.
When my Dad arrived I stayed there in the basement while they made small talk and when Mr. Parsons was finished I made the comment: "that doesn't look very good", I said it with a tone that - between friends - would be easily discernible and taken as a tease. Well my Father didn't think so. He was nearly appauled at his little boy's comment and thoroughly embarrassed. I was told to apologise to the man and was further repremanded apres.
I tried to explain to my Dad that it was taken all wrong that I was just joking with him, teasing him in fact. I pleaded my case right there in front of my Father and Mr. Parsons. I suggested that it was OK to make a comment considering I had spent that time with him and was able to say such a thing and it not be taken seriously. I mean I was kidding anyways, I guess I had the tone wrong. You know how kids try to emulate grown-ups and make uncomfortable comments or converse in such a way that it's obvious they spend a lot of time with people not of their age. Comments that you would expect a 60 years old to say spoken through a youngsters mouth are often curiously peculiar and humourous - like a 2 year old saying "fuck".
At that time I didn't know how to explain to my Dad that I had build a friendship with Mr. Parsons, I was years away from using the word rapport which would have summed it up. I thought I had created a certain rapport with Mr. Parsons which would allow such comments to be passed of as easily as I tell my friend Parsons to go fuck himself, he knows I don't mean it! Without my being able to solidly justify my actions to my Father I must certainly been seen as a brat - which I most definitely was not. Although many babysitters would disagree - but look at me now - I'm a nice guy, and well behaved.
What was further troubling was that Mr. fucking Brick Layer wouldn't come to my defense, I even said to him to tell my Dad the difference but he wouldn't after my Father told me not to be disrespectful. Maybe he felt bad, maybe he didn't have the self-confidence to speak up, maybe he felt guilty or maybe he didn't think it was an appropriate comment. I bet if I made the comment before my Dad showed up it would have went over quite the way I imagined it would, I'm sure I did everything according to normal conversational rules, perhaps it was the fact that it came from a youngster. Nonetheless I got in shit for something which was meant to be taken lightly.
