#5 Facebook, Goddard, and a peak at my Thesis
Hi. I’m still Jack Cameron and this is still my newsletter. It’s been a long week and this is going to be a short newsletter. I’m entering the final week of my first semester in my MFA for Creative Writing program at Goddard College. So I have a LOT to do in the next seven days.
This past Tuesday I was honored to be part of Evergreen Tacoma’s alumni panel. I sat with a handful of other graduates to talk about my experience since graduating in June and to offer advice on how best to navigate the unique learning environment that is Evergreen Tacoma. I also talked up Goddard, but warned them that unlike Evergreen Tacoma, one cannot simply coast their way into a degree at Goddard. By the end of this semester I will have read twelve books (varying in length between 250-700 pages) and I’ll have written and turned in nearly 200 pages of writing. And that’s in just five months. I doubt I turned in 200 pages during my entire time at Evergreen Tacoma.
I realize that probably sounds like Evergreen Tacoma isn’t a great place to learn, but it is. It’s just a different kind of learning environment.
Anyway, as I finish up this first semester, the only thing I’m looking for more than the three month break is the beginning of second semester in February.
8 Weeks To Freedom From Facebook
Last week I mentioned my plan to leave Facebook permanently and my reasons for doing so. I feel like talking about Facebook every week is probably a bad idea. My intention is to no longer use Facebook by January 1, 2020. That’s somehow in just under eight weeks. I started last week by no longer accessing Facebook on my smart phone. This week I’m limiting the amount of things I post. Here is my schedule for weening off Facebook in case you might want to join me.
Week 1 – Access Facebook only from laptop or desktop. (No smart phones. Delete App.)
Week 2 – Only one post and one share a day.
Week 3 – No more clicking the like button.
Week 4 – No more commenting on posts that are not yours.
Week 5 – No Facebooking on weekends.
Week 6 – Facebook only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
Week 7 – Get contact info of those on Facebook you want to stay in touch with.
Week 8 – Either delete Facebook or leave a signpost final post directing Facebook people to alternative contact information and content.
What I’ve Been Up To
As this is the last week of my semester, I thought I’d share with you small bit of my thesis. Feel free to tell me what you think. Or not.
March 5, 1946
Tacoma, Washington
Jerome Johnson walked up the stairs to the second floor of the building on Broadway with a skip in his step. As he got to the top of the stairs, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his folding money. Four dollar bills. He walked down the long hallway and knocked on the red door with a slot in it. The slot slid open. Chinese eyes looked at him.
“The Sung Lee Company, right?” Jerome said. He held up his money. “I’m a customer.”
The slot closed. Jerome waited and pocketed his money.
The door opened. Eddie Chin smiled at him. “Good to see you, Mr. Johnson.”
Jerome smiled at that. No one outside of this room called him Mr. Johnson. Eddie didn’t see white or black. All Eddie ever saw was green.
Jerome looked at the room. It took up half of the second floor. The windows were covered with heavy red curtains. There were about thirty people in the room, most of them were sitting at card tables. All were white or Chinese. He saw someone he recognized at the poker table. A lawyer. Caulfield or something.
A beautiful, young Chinese woman stood at a table selling tickets with Chinese writing on them. A sign above her read: Grand Raffle. 180 for 1. Any raffle takes all. At one end of the room there was a roped off area with lights and a handful of chairs in front it. The main stage such as it was. At the other end a handful of people stood around a craps table. The hand-painted sign above the table: Limit $25. Crap and hardways $5 limit. Dealer only calls no dice.
“Good to be seen, Eddie.” Jerome was still taking in the place. Then, as if telling a secret, “Is she here?”
“Right over there, Mr. Johnson.” Eddie gestured to what looked like a wood table with a small wooden box at one end, but Jerome recognized as the one and only pinball machine in The Sung Lee Company. Jerome got twenty nickels for one of his dollar bills from the cashier and headed to the machine.
It was called ‘Bumper’. Jerome put his first nickel in the shoot, pushed it in, then pulled it out, the coin disappearing into the machine and unleashing five balls. Jerome pushed the lower plunger to release the first ball. He pushed the top plunger to launch it. He watched as the ball rolled across the machine then bounced off one bumper, then another, then another as it headed back towards him and into a slot. Each time his ball hit a bumper, the box on top displayed points.
He couldn’t explain his fascination with the game. Something about the pure chance of where that ball might end up. A ball might hit one bumper and promptly bounce its way down to the hole without any further disturbance. Another might hit one bumper, then another, then another and another, racking up more points than the three balls before it combined. Each ball launched was a whole new adventure.
Jerome was on his eleventh game when he noticed the two men. One stood near the exit. The other near the craps table.Something off about them. They weren’t playing games. They were just standing there. Both were bigger than Jerome and Jerome was not a small man. He heard his fourth ball fall into the slot. He pressed the lower plunger without looking.
The one at the door walked over by a poker table and that’s when Jerome noticed the bulge in the guy’s coat. He had heat.
Jerome tried to play the game, but he didn’t get to be twenty-six years old on this planet by not being aware. He pushed the top plunger. The ball hit ten times, but Jerome was already walking away. He knew trouble when he saw it.
Then the lights went down. Jerome was thinking of running for the door when a spotlight hit the stage and there she was. Her name according to the hand written sign by the stage was Loraine. She was young, brunette, and slender, but curvy in all the right places. He didn’t usually go for white girls, but….damn. She walked up to the microphone as if it were a lover. Every eye in the room was on her. Even the heavies. She started singing “What a Diff’renceA Day Makes” and Jerome forgot he was leaving.
He found a seat in front of the stage, ignoring a couple of hard stares from the white people next to him. Her green dress was sleeveless and went below the knees. Her skin was pale but this close he could see her face was flushed so pink that it extended down below her neckline. It was the only indication she might be nervous. Her voice never wavered and felt to Jerome like molasses on pancakes. Pure and smooth.
Jerome knew he wasn’t in love. It was something else. Like church. He didn’t allow himself to have carnal thoughts about her. He simply listened to her voice and was in awe.
The end of the song resulted in a room full of applause. In between songs, Jerome looked around the room and saw that there were three more unsmiling, unclapping men standing in various places in the room. They were the only ones not still looking at the stage. They were all looking at the entrance.
Jerome was knocked out of his trance. His suspicions were now fears. He had to get out of this room. Five armed men in a room full of money. This place was about to get robbed and Jerome didn’t want to be anywhere near it when it did.
Loraine started singing “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore”, but Jerome wasn’t really listening. He looked around the room for Eddie and didn’t see him. It was time to go. Jerome walked towards the door as the doorman opened it and a uniformed police officer walked in.
Jerome’s blood went cold. This was going to be a bloodbath. The cop walked right by him, nodded at the woman at the raffle table, used a chair as a step, and got up onto the table. Then he pulled something out of a pocket and put it to his mouth. The whistle cut through the music. The five armed men in the room pulled their weapons.
Loraine stopped singing.
“Everyone, let me have your attention!” The cop yelled. “Stay. Where.You.Are. This is a raid! My friends and I are members of the Washington State Patrol. Money stays on the tables.”
By the time the cop had finished speaking, Jerome was already running down the hallway. He tried the first door he saw, opened it, and shut it behind him. He heard no footsteps coming after him. The room was dark and empty. Nothing to hide under or behind. He saw a fire escape outside the one window in the room. Unclasping the latch, he opened the dirty window, and stuck his head out. There was a State Police patrol car down below. He brought his head back in and heard footsteps in the hall.
Jerome didn’t like climbing out on the fire escape. He would never admit to being afraid of heights but he sure as hell didn’t like them. He didn’t think he could climb down without being seen. So he climbed up. The building was only three stories. He found himself on the roof in seconds, but he wasn’t alone.
“Crazy night, huh?” Her speaking voice was quiet. She was sitting, leaning up against a vent. The flush to her face was almost red now, even in the dim light.
“Yeah.” He said, slowly approaching her.
“I’m Loraine.”
“I – uh, I know.”
“Did you see me? Did you see me sing?”
“I did. You’re really incredible.”
“Thanks.”
“Too bad it got interrupted.”
“Yeah. Eddie told me back when I started that this kind of thing never happens.”
Jerome sat next to her.
“Looks like Eddie was wrong.”
“Yeah.”
They sat there listening to the commotion down below. They could hear yelling in English and Chinese.
“I’m Jerome.” He offered his hand. She took it, touching it but not shaking it then pulling her hand away.
“I’m Loraine,” She repeated. She was clearly just as scared as he was, Jerome thought.
“I know. How’d you get started in this?”
“Singing? I’ve been singing forever.”
“No. I mean you’re a white girl working for Eddie. Gotta be a story there.”
“Oh. That. I was working down at the Drip Drop Diner. Waitressing. He was there late one night. I was singing. Kinda under my breath, y’know? And he heard me. Told me I could work one night and make a month’s wages. I almost slapped him.”
Jerome laughed out loud then just as quickly shut up, remembering they were hiding.
“He pays me fifty bucks every time I sing.” Loraine said.
“Damn. That’s good money. He pay you before or after the show?”
“After. Why? Were you going to rob me if he paid me before?”
“Yeah, that’d go over well. All you’d have to do is yell for the cops and that’d be that. Besides, I ain’t a thief.”
“What are you?”
“Me? I’m just Jerome Johnson, ma’am. I don’t intend to be anything else.”
She smiled at that. He noticed that he skin was less pink.
“My brother would kill me if he found out about this.” She said.
“Why’s that?”
“He’s a cop.”
“One of those downstairs?”
“No. At least I didn’t see him. They said they were State Patrol. He’s a Tacoma cop.”
“Oh.” Jerome had no love for police and they had no love for him. He wasn’t sure how he was getting off of this roof, but he had a feeling that if her brother found him with her on this roof right now, it wouldn’t be her life that was in danger.
“You should get out of here.” Jerome said, thinking out loud.
“How do we do that?”
“We don’t.” Jerome said, “You do. You’re a beautiful young woman. You weren’t gambling. And your brother’s a cop. You can get out of here.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I’ll just wait here until the heat dies down and enjoy the view until then.”
“If you think that’s best…” Loraine began to get up.
“It’s the least worst alternative, Loraine. See you around.”
Lorraine walked to the edge of the roof. She turned around and said, “Hey, Jerome. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Anytime.”
He watched Lorraine climb down the fire escape. After she was gone he blew her a kiss.