Old Man Burn

I remember it well, not like yesterday though. I was in fourth grade and had re-entered Little River Elementary, erected 1957, after a two-year absence. My mom kept me in the county schools after we moved back to North Durham from the South. Not really sure why.

She picked me up every day, about a 20m. ride out from town, not so far for us. We had no AC, so the Spring and summer months cooked us right good in the ride home.

On Fridays I rode the bus out to my dad’s house, the Duck Ranch. He’d only lived there 2-3 years at that point and it teemed with life. A Guernsey Milk cow named Madame and her second calf, Baby Calf. Chickens and ducks everywhere, with an occasional pheasant or peafowl. The whole property, about 9 acres, was fenced in with a single wire of 40 volt electric fence for Madame. She wandered wherever she wanted, and the grass was fresh. She was white and orange with an exceptionally sweet temperament.

I didn’t like the bus as I rode only once per week and had no habit, no seat, no normalcy. I had to look for a seat and kids could be real grumpy and fussy over bus seats. Or they could be jerks.

I remember our 5th grade had a hobo day, why, well I guess to bring awareness to traveling homeless. We read one little article called “Freight Train Maury,” and then ran around acting like wild animals dressed as bums.

This bizarre girl named Miriam had rolled up a bunch of notebook paper cut to cigarette length. On the bus she put one in her mouth just to be ripped away by another rider, another fake smoke, rip-crush, another, rip-crush, another, rip-crush. Miriam smirked and stared straight ahead not at all perturbed by the snatching of her bum props. Her face was lightly blackened with make-up or charcoal to make like whiskers. She won in the end as the other rider became bored.

After a while though, I became comfortable and the Friday rides were tolerable and even fun, mostly thanks to kids like Miriam.

This brings me to Baron, infamously known as Old Man Burn. Baron was gentle-eyed a year older than me and a full head or more shorter. He had a narrow brown face and his teeth bucked out a little but maybe no more than a bad overbite. I had one too. As a daily rider, he always sat in the very back and I would as well. His torso was flat and broad and kinda puffed out in the front, a little arched forward. His legs were straight and thin, his long arms extended skeletally, with big spidery hands. The knobby elbows seemed thicker than some part of his arms. His hair was dark brown with large loose curls, not a tight black nap. He smiled widely and his mouth seemed to stretch to his ears.

He was quiet, observed his surroundings and had a good sense of humor. We liked each other well enough and talked a bit about this and that, Hot Wheels, action movies, how crappy homework was, and his teachers that I would meet the following year.

Another kid, I think his name was Tony was as boisterous as Baron was reserved. He was loud, round-headed and had a closely cropped skull. When he laughed the whole top of his head would disappear as he opened his mouth to bray. Tony always had something to laugh about. I would sit next to him sometimes too. It didn’t take much to get him started. He was right funny.

He started picking at Baron one day. Even though he was one year younger, he outweighed Baron by about 25 pounds.

-You gotta watch out fer Old Man Burn, he would say.

Baron would reach across two seats of the old Orange International Diesel practically balancing on his thighs trying to swipe at Tony with his claws, and Tony cutting up with the thrill , couldn’t stop from laughing as he’s jump 1-2 seats ahead if he had to.

-Boy, you best set down nah! Hollered Mrs. Parker

Now I remember one day Tony was in the very back seat, and Baron was across the aisle, but separated by at least 3 kids. I was there sitting in the aisle seat.

-Old Man Burn, you better watch out, he’ll come in yo winda at night, he’ll git ya. Baron had a blank look in his eyes, but a grimace on his face.

-I saw me a scary movie last night, it was like da wolfman somethin’, my little sista was hollerin’. But it won’t nothin’ like Old Man Burn. Baron dove over the three kids trying to get at Tony and land a fist somewhere on his head.

After a while, Tony had to get off and cross within Baron’s range. I don’t know how, but Baron struck like a snake, one hand open for the head slap and the other a knotted fist. Tony slipped out of it like an eel and cackled all the way out of the bus.

Baron wasn’t too mad after that. He knew he’d get him. I’d miss it as it would likely happen on Monday, as my mom picked me up. I would miss Baron’s revenge and Tony’s requisite slap upside the head.

I hopped off the bus that day. Said goodbye to Ms. Parker, not Lorenzola, the other one, the irritated one. I had three bus drivers in my four years there. Two Mrs. Parkers and one Mr. Parker. I ain’t kidding about that.

Bunny road was dusty, the pack barns were full of hay, flies, and cats, a handful of pigs milled in the farmyard, cows grazed in the cedar patch. My house was about 200 feet down. I liked those Friday afternoons, jumping off the bus on that dusty road. Free!