In Another Life, and: Tutor to the Prophet

In Another Life, and: Tutor to the Prophet John Hennessy (bio) Keywords New England, Route One, futures, lives, boys, Greek, parenting, sports, gardening, Malcolm X, memories IN ANOTHER LIFE In another life, I join the hierophantsof New Jersey, drink petrochemical windsswirling across Route One, a new Delphi,speak their ethylene mysteries. Called back by my inexorable childhood, it becomesimpossible to ignore my sons' own strangegifts: smokestacks stop smoking, chimneyfires burn green as pine trees, then flare out. Miracles like this don't happen back homein Massachusetts, so we pigeon featherfor a message, begin initiation. Windmillcamphor pots, magnesium mist our wrists and foreheads, burn sage then sandalwoodthen palo santo in blue ceramic bowlsbubble-wrapped back from Sifnos.The singular past and several futures never go dark here. Even summerthunderstorms illuminate oil tank farmsdestructive as divorce, and the vatsspeak with a rumbling of their swollen bellies, murky riddle. Don't go barefoot—there's a snake in the grass, and Orpheussails in too late for the wedding. Wetlandsmake for wet hay. The boys receive instruction to draw forth superheroes recklessas gods, cunning in combat with climate change.Vines snake across the refinery, the earthquakes and turns up old-growth trees End Page 67 and ferns, a flask of jenever. Pour a gulpin the Arthur Kill for the guerrilla war-deadof family battles, we calm our restlessancestral spirits, liberate them one by one from petroleum tombs. They fly offthrough ethylene vapor, escorted by heroesthe boys create, better heeled than Jason, thinka gracious Achilles, smoother than Perseus— tongue cuts cleaner than the sword. I embraceboth boys as they grow to men, launch their barks,thank them through words stark as smokestacksfor light they bring to senseless dark. End Page 68 TUTOR TO THE PROPHET At play James kicks pigeon-toed, legsscissoring flared pants quick at the hipsand waist, white high-top Cons launchinga loud pink kickball arc—p'ang—over Nova and Impala, parked Firebird,ancient Valiant jacked up on the corner.From third I can walk home backwards.Rafael scores. James sprints behind, fistof his pick raised from back pocket. James at work we dub Wheejee, mad smartat math and plants. Whole summer days passand we can't find him—he's hidden in the library,spelunking the stacks, or tutoring his brothers.The signal he's back? We see the aftermathof his projects: he's window-boxed marigoldsand basil, peppers and geraniums, two kindsof ivy, scented dianthus, shaded impatiens, or strungclotheslines across the backstairs in zigzags,maxing the surface area for laundry in the sun. Later, on that same backstairs sunporch,sheets sailing their lines around us, James—our Wheejee—becomes Abdu Raheem.The Autobiography of Malcolm X presides,door-guard Two Speeches, bedside the recitation.He debates Rafael on power, on the beautiful,hegemony and difference. The apartment windowsoundtracks low "I'd Rather Be With You,"and his mother pinning her uniform before workstill overhears. Couple of Catholic boys, familyfrom suspect islands—Ireland, Puerto Rico, Sicily—shit, jokes not James, nor Wheejee, but AbduRaheem, should I just cut you two loose? End Page 69 Don't even kid, his mother says, openingthe back door on us, in the syndicated fictionof memory, recast as Julia, say, Diahann Carroll,or Rosalind Cash, volume rising, extra-terrestrial, the hardwired guitar, Bootsy'ssynth-like bass, braids gathered overheadin one hand, blocking the skyline of Merckstacks, Rahway prison's sullen grey dome.You're going to do this thing, okay,commit to the book. But where you threego, let's ease back a bit, be circumspect. (thirty years later, music down, clean laundry billowing, snapping, construction site on the corner quiet, sometimes I slip backstairs, in conversation with her, with Ralph, lost Wheejee, wondering aloud, imagining all over again his laugh or scowl—as Abdu Raheem says) Check the tutor to the prophet—his work runs green.Like mine. Al-Khidr. His name means green forever.His mother turns back, fixes...