(1951)

Flora got off the bus in Balboa Park, right at the front entrance to the zoo.  She liked the walk down into the canyon to the VA Hospital and she was early for work.  At eight-twenty in the morning, the sun shone brightly and it was already a sparking spring day, the kind for which San Diego was famous. 

An animal symphony was coming from within the zoo.  It was feeding time. And, the animals felt the season.  They were frisky.  Above it all she heard the trumpeting of the baby elephant.  He was a caution that one, thundering around and looking for mischief all day long. He reminded her of her grandson Charley.

‘Thank you, Mr. Wallace,’ Flora said to the driver as she stepped out onto the sidewalk.  Some mornings, when she was the only passenger, Flora and Joe Wallace carried on a conversation on her way to work.  She’d sit on the bench right across from him and they’d talk about this and that.  She was a little lonely and it was nice to talk to a man in the morning, even if it was only about the weather or the news from Korea.  She wished San Diego had a baseball team.  Then they could talk about something other than men killing each other.

‘You have a good day, Mrs. Pink,’ Mr. Wallace replied. ‘It looks like another beautiful day in paradise.’  People in San Diego said that a lot; a kind of joke. 

Flora didn’t enjoy the way she and Joe Wallace addressed each other.  She’d seen him five and sometimes six days a week for almost seven years.  But that was how polite people spoke across the color line, with exaggerated formality and respect.  Still, she wished just once he’d call her Flora and she could call him Joe.  They were all God’s children.

The cool morning air caressed Flora’s face; put a spring in her walk.  The miniature railroad wasn’t running yet, but the engineers seemed to be firing the steam locomotive.  She waived as she passed, enjoying, but still embarrassed by, their appreciative looks.  She was a proper Christian woman, but a widow at 38.

Flora didn’t know the engineers’ names, but she recognized them.  She and her Charley were regular passengers.  She often brought Charley to the park and zoo on her days off.  The boy enjoyed the animals, but you couldn’t get him off the train.  He always wore his engineer cap and red bandanna. He could hardly stand still as the locomotive approached, all hissing steam and whistles and clanging bells.  It was almost too exciting for him.  What was it about boys and noise?

Walking into the canyon Flora began thinking about an odd conversation she’d had yesterday when she and Charley were in the zoo outside the orangutan cage.  A young white man with long blond hair tied back behind his head had greeted her by first name.  ‘Hello, Flora,’ he said, ‘nice day,’ just like they were old friends.

Flora smiled, but said ‘I’m sorry, do I know you?’

The young man paused, like he was thinking, then said, ‘I’m Gabe and I’m sorry I don’t recall your last name.  I mean no disrespect.  You cared for me at the VA hospital a couple of years ago.  You’re everybody’s favorite nurse.  This must be your grandson Charley.’  Gabe held out his hand, but Charley became shy and hid behind Flora, just peeking out around her hips.

Gabe, Flora thought, I don’t recognize this boy at all, but so many come through.  He must be right.  Still, there’s something odd about him.  He kind of glows; looks too happy.  ‘How are you feeling, today Gabe?’  

‘Like God’s own messenger,’ said Gabe. 

That was when she noticed that Gabe was wearing a canvas messenger bag over his shoulder.  Gabe’s bag and conversation made her feel defensive; she wondered if he was selling religious magazines or some such carry on, but it turned out he was just a sweet boy.  Maybe a little touched in the head, but polite, harmless, and kind speaking. 

Gabe squatted next to Charley and handed him a bag of roasted peanuts.  ‘Throw Morris a couple of peanuts, Charley,’ Gabe said.  ‘He’s the big fella eating grapes.  Morris loves peanuts and he’ll thank you.’

Charley took two peanuts and tossed them toward the big orangutan one at a time. Morris scooped them out of the air with remarkable grace and coordination.  Then he carefully cracked the shells and ate the precious roasted nuts inside.  When he finished, Morris gave a salute, bringing his left hand up to his forehead, just as Gabe had predicted.  Charley was delighted, clapped his hands, and threw more peanuts to the ape.

After a while, Gabe said ‘Keep the peanuts Charley, they’re good for you.  God bless all living things.’  Then he smiled and, as he turned to leave, he called, ‘Flora, today’s going to be an important day for you for the rest of your life.  Speak up. Do the right thing. Peace by with you!’  Then he strolled away, disappearing almost instantly in the crowd.  

‘What an odd boy,’ Flora said aloud, but softly to herself.  ‘I hope the dear Lord looks after him.’  Flora had looked for Gabe in the zoo, but didn’t see him until much later.  When she and Charley were on the miniature train they saw him standing at the railing in the station.  He waived and grinned a big goofy smile, but was gone when they got back.  He’d been eating roasted peanuts.

*  *  *

As she reached the hospital Flora’s mind was on her worries.  Her son Luke, Charley’s father, was in Korea.  Tanya, the boy’s mother, was leaving the boy with Flora more and more, showing all the signs of a woman about to run away.  Tanya made up reasons, but Flora saw through her Godless lies. She grieved for the girl and the pain she was making for herself and others.   However, Flora was determined to do the right thing, raise Charley and give him a proper Christian upbringing. To do that, she’d have to find another job.  Hospital work was too demanding for a single person raising a child.  Flora prayed every night for some solution to the fix she was in.

The VA Hospital wasn’t the best job.  She’d started years ago as a Nurse’s Assistant, ridiculously called a ‘Bunny’ in hospital talk.  Bunnies wore pink and white striped aprons.  With her stature and figure, Flora looked like a cartoon character in her Bunny uniform.  After four years of night courses and many more of hard work she was now a Registered Nurse and in charge of the Psychiatric Ward.  She wore traditional nurses’ starched whites, but this only made her look like a waitress in an all-night diner.   Tall, full figured, and muscular, Flora’s biceps filled her uniform sleeves. 

What she needed was a job with hours which permitted her to be at home when Charley wasn’t in school.  A friend at a professional employment agency was looking for her, but these situations weren’t common.  And, the pay was usually insufficient to meet the needs of a family of two.

Thinking about all this, Flora was so preoccupied that she lost track of where she was and nearly ran into Bobby Childs, the custodian, who was holding the hospital door open for her. 

‘Good morning, ‘ said Bobby, bringing her back to the present.  As he held the door, he did a little bow, sweeping his hand as if removing an invisible hat.  Bobby was a clown, but it was also respect.  Flora was the only black nurse and highest ranking person of color in the hospital.  When nobody else was around, the colored staff teased her about being ‘uppity.’  It was good natured enough, but wore thin.  She was a woman between worlds at the VA Hospital, fitting in neither.

‘Good morning, Bobby,’ Flora replied, ‘it’s a fine spring day out there.  You ought to take some time to enjoy it.  I would if I could, but I’ve got a staff meeting first thing.’

‘I’m clocking out at 9:00 this morning and going up to Del Mar to talk to a man about a horse,’ he replied.

‘You’d do better to spend your time at the zoo, Bobby Childs.  There’s lots of God’s creatures there, not just horses,’ she replied.  Flora knew Bobby was a gambler and she didn’t approve.  Gambling and liquor ruined homes and ruined lives.  If she ever got a home again, it wouldn’t be plagued by those vices.  No sir!

* * *

The Staff Meeting:

The 9:30 Staff Meeting was called to order by Dr. Bloch.  (Flora liked him because he didn’t expect nurses to serve the coffee and doughnuts.)  In attendance were Dr. Stephen Bloch, MD, Dr. Shella Long, PhD, Mary Jacobs, MSW, and Flora Pink, RN.  Dr. Bloch chaired.

Dr Bloch:  ‘We have a very unique case on our hands with Michael Dugan, Father Michael Dugan, and just so we’re all on the same page, I’ll summarize. The personnel jacket doesn’t explain how, but Dugan was activated from the Marine Corps Reserves as a Chaplain when he was 48 years old, strictly as a non-combatant, but he completed re-tread basic training at Camp Pendleton as a condition. Only God knows how.  He then asked for and received training as a Medical Corpsman.  About this, all I can say is he’s got to have a rabbi in the Pentagon.   It was somebody’s idea that he’d be assigned to a MASH, provide comfort and the sacraments to the dying and be able to help out to keep some alive.  Then he shipped out to Korea just in time to be entrapped at Chosin Reservoir.  

‘At Chosin he saw the worst combat situation in Marine Corps history.  The casualty numbers haven’t been released, but they are said to be staggering.  Although wounded twice, he continued to minister to the dying and provide medical services under fire.  He is personally credited with saving three soldiers who he dragged to evacuation notwithstanding his own injuries which, by the way, he’d treated himself in the field.  One of those soldiers was a Lt. Colonel who somehow got tangled up in that butcher shop.

‘If he were an American Citizen (he’s Irish) he’d be nominated for the Congressional Medal.  He’s been awarded the Navy Cross, a Purple Heart, and quietly, honorably discharged.

‘Dugan’s physical wounds have healed, but he needs rehab for his knee injury.  The chances are he’ll walk with a cane the rest of his life.  He suffered severe post-traumatic stress and is under sedation.   

‘Something some of you may not know is that he’s always been a little odd.  His fitness reports before the injury raved about the guy, but hint that he’s a religious ‘nut.’  I know, I know, he’s a priest and all, but he had a kind of glow in his eye, or at least that’s how I read it.  He’s not your average sky pilot; he’s a true believer, a zealot.

‘Frankly, I think he’s recovering.  He no longer experiences flashbacks and night terrors.  I’d like to back off his meds and see how it goes.  Can we release him back into the community?  Is he sane enough that he could ride a bus and walk around downtown without being victimized by others or causing a police problem?’

Mary Jacobs:  ‘The Catholic Diocese of San Diego has taken an interest in Father Dugan.  The Bishop is familiar with his case.  They have a place for him at St. Francis Church in Fremont Beach when he’s well enough to celebrate mass, hear confession, and tend to a small congregation.  The church has odd funding, a trust of some sort, so his material needs will be met even though the congregation is fewer than 100 people at Christmas. There’s even money for a housekeeper. This might be important, keep him supervised a little.  The diocese gets a generous stipend from the trust, but only so long as St. Francis remains a functioning congregation.  They need a priest in that church.  That’s what the Bishop’s secretary told me. He said off the record that it’s a plum place to retire and not too far from the Del Mar Racetrack if the good father likes the ponies.  Since he’s Irish, that goes without saying.’

Dr Long:  ‘This is all well and good, but the man rambles all day long.  Sometimes thinks he’s conversing with the Angel Gabriel.  I’m okay with backing down his medication, but we’ll have to see.  I can’t sign off to release someone who’s delusional.  He’ll end up back here with physical injuries.  He’d be exploited, robbed, injured, and spat back on our doorstep.’

(Flora paused before speaking.  She didn’t often contribute to staffings like this and was particularly unsure about offering her thoughts on poor Father Dugan.  She didn’t think there was that much wrong with him.  He was just touched by God.  He had a calling. Then she remembered what Gabe had said at the zoo.  She had to say what she thought was the truth.)

Nurse Pink:  Unless I’m mistaken, I am the only observant Christian here this morning.  There’s something important that I’ve noticed that you might not.  Almost all of Father Dugan’s rambling is quotation from the Gospels.  He quotes the Gospels the way some people hum little tunes or snatches of popular songs which on some level relate to how they’re seeing the world around them.  I’m sure we’ve all caught ourselves doing that.  This tic may stay with him the rest of his life.  The story of Jesus is what motivates him, it’s his life.  I think if he’s given time to acquaint himself with the quiet world up there in Fremont Beach, he’ll recover his mental health, but he’ll always ramble a bit.

Dr Bloch:  We seem to be in agreement.  Nurse Pink, will you make it a point to pay particular attention to Father Dugan while we’re reducing his medication?  Be sure the nurses on your ward are all aware and chart changes in his behavior.  I’ll arrange for physical therapy to commence as soon as he’s able.

* * *

Leaving the meeting Flora felt good, as if she’d just made a difference.  She shuddered at the alternative.  If not released, that good man’s future would consist of medication and permanent residence in a thinly-disguised prison, Norwalk or Agnew or God knows where.  Nobody deserved that and certainly not this fine, living Christian.

*  *  *

Over the next few weeks, Flora’s patient reclaimed his sanity, becoming generally lucid and rational.  The psychologist reported that Father Dugan could discuss his combat experience rationally, if tearfully, without delusional withdrawal.  Physically, he was walking slowly, but tolerating the pain and gaining balance.

Flora brought Father Dugan meals to him whenever her duties permitted.  They chatted while he ate, sometimes about their shared interest in Jesus, but about lots of things.  She felt comfortable with the man and, to be honest with herself.  She shared a little more than she had with anyone in a long time.  She talked about her worries about her son and grandson and what she’d do if Tanya left Charley with her for good.

One day, Flora said she didn’t approve of the hospital’s food, saying ‘A big, strong man like you deserves better cooking.  These mashed potatoes, roast beef and gravy will just go to your belly.  The vegetables are always over cooked. That’s Sunday supper food, not every day!’

Mike agreed saying he’d gone to seed in the hospital and couldn’t wait to be discharged.  Then, as he finished lunch, he said, ‘I see you leave here daily at 5:00 o’clock.  I’m supposed to walk up to the zoo today for physical therapy.  I’ll take the bus back down the hill.  Would you walk with me?’  

Flora was taken aback.  White people and black people didn’t socialize publicly, but she was a nurse in uniform and he was a patient.  Some tongues would wag at the hospital, but they could just wag away, so she said, ‘I’d be delighted, Father Dugan.’

‘Well, that’s another thing I’ve been meaning to ask you,’ he said, ‘When it’s just us two, will you please just call me Mike?’  On the spot, they became Flora and Mike. 

When she called for him, Mike was sitting in his room, but when he stood to greet her, she realized what a big man he was.  Flora actually looked up to him.  Doing so, she had a thought which embarrassed her because it wasn’t proper, but still she thought it – what wonderful children she might have had with this fine, big fella.  She looked at her shoes so he wouldn’t see her blush.

So, they walked together, Flora on Father Mike’s arm, steadying him in case he had a misstep, but soon realizing that she was feeling proprietary about the man.  She held his arm like she owned him. He didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, he had a smile on his face she’d never seen before, big and wide, but like he had a special secret.

At the bus stop, they sat on the bench in the warm afternoon sun.  After he caught his breath, Mike said, ‘The Bishop’s secretary is picking me up in his car Saturday morning to visit St. Francis Church in Fremont Beach.  He’ll drop me off and call back whenever I want.  The idea is to look at the vicarage and cottage to see what needs to be done before I move in.’ 

Mike paused and shifted his cane and breathed in.  Then, looking Flora full in the face he asked, ‘Would you and Charley like to come along?  There’s a nice beach and a pizzeria owned by the Soto family, my new parishioners.  I thought we might take Charley to the beach, make a day of it, and then have pizza for supper.’ 

Flora opened her mouth, but at first nothing came out.  She just sat on the bus bench looking like a big, black guppy in a starched uniform.  She recovered herself just as the bus arrived and managed to say, ‘I think Charley would like that.’  Then she added quickly ‘So would I,’ because it was the truth.

Mike smiled, then softly said, ‘This is my Commandment, that ye love one another as I have loved you.’  Flora recognized the words of Jesus from the Gospel of John.

They got on the bus together, Flora helping Mike with the step up. As it pulled away, Flora noticed that the miniature steam railroad was going on its final run for the day.  In the front passenger car was a courting couple, but the rest of the train was empty except the very last seat on the final car.  In it sat Gabe, the strange boy she’d met at the zoo.  He was eating peanuts, but looked up as the bus and train passed one another.  Their eyes met briefly and Flora could swear she saw Gabe wink.