The Naive and Sentimental Writer

By James CB Fogle

The stories, tales, and poems found within the covers of this book were all written to explore what potential for creativity and imagination lives inside me. I have written against the grain of cynicism, anger, rancor, and divisiveness that seems in the forefront of our human world at this time. I hope the reader will be able to latch on to the beat of what I have written and join me in what lyricist Bud Green called "a sentimental journey."

• Language: English
• Publisher: James CB Fogle
• Release date: Nov 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223723530

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Copyright © 2023 by James C.B. Fogle

All rights reserved.

Cover by Karasel Cover Art

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

A CHANGE OF HEART

A SILLY SONG

A YOUNG WOMAN AT THE BUS STOP

CAT O’NINE TALES

STARRY NIGHT POEMS

Starry Night

Night's First Kiss

Nebulae

The Drawing of Constellations

Night Psalm

FLAMINGO RIDGE, FLORIDA

GRACE SUFFICIENT

IMPULSE CREEK

NO BULL (NOBLE)

NO TRESPASSING

SEEING-EYE HUMAN

TALKING TO TRASH

THE BULLDOZERS

THE DOLDRUMS

THE END OF THE LINE IS ITS BEGINNING

THE LEAF

THE PHOTOGRAPH

TWO TAKES ON ONE TOWN

UNTOUCHED BY FAILURE

WE ALL HAVE A LITTLE CRAZINESS INSIDE US

WHAT AN EYE!

A CHANGE OF HEART

If, for some reason, you actually wanted to meet an arrogant, self-aggrandizing, and despotic person, you would be hard-pressed to find someone with more of those qualities than Mathias Pace. Although Pace came from a well-to-do family, it wasn’t well-to-do enough for him. Though patrician and every inch a gentleman, his father, Findlay Pace, was affable and easygoing. He accomplished a great deal in his life, but not enough to suit his only son. The younger Pace began his own company at the age of twenty-two, and by age twenty-eight, was a millionaire many times over.

During his journey to financial and business success, Mathias was accompanied by his socialite wife, Elizabeth (Bitsy). Over the years the couple had five children, who at the time of this story are eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, and sixteen. By their ages (and also their names—Mary and Luke, for example) you’d think that Mathias Pace was a Roman Catholic, but he had no interest in religion. The only one of the Ten Commandments he held in high respect was the first. In the case of this commandment, the me in Thou shalt have no other gods before me was Pace himself. He was the god of his own universe.

By age forty-two, Pace was bored with his work as CEO of the company he founded. He sold it for a very handsome profit and began collecting board chairmanships, all business and finance related. It is at this point in Mathias Pace’s life that our story begins.

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Even a god of his own universe occasionally needs a mentor or someone to talk to about situations in life. For Mathias Pace, finding a mentor was difficult, as—in his own mind at least—he had no superiors and few peers. He therefore chose one from a distinctly lower level of accomplished men, one Otto Sprank.

Sprank, a shoe repairman, had maintained a successful small business for many years. His success was not because he was a skilled shoe repairman, which he was, but because when a customer brought in shoes for a particular repair, he not only completed the requested repair, he also fixed anything else that was wrong. Often, these problems were hidden. Customers always found that the shoes they had brought in both looked and felt better than they did when they were new.

One day, Mathias Pace came to Otto Sprank’s shop, ostensibly to have some shoes repaired. With five children, he visited the shop quite often. Of course, his real reason for coming in was to talk things over with Sprank.

Sprank, Pace said in his very commanding style, do you have any children?

Mr. Pace, you can see from my face that I’m not exactly what they nowadays call a ‘chick magnet.’ I’ve never been a ladies’ man. I’m happy to say that I have lots of nieces and nephews who all seem to love me and enjoy seeing me. I attribute this to the fact that I got to know them before the world taught them who to be attracted to and who not to be attracted to. I know quite well you have five, though I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting them.

Yes, I do. Pace puffed out his chest a bit. Well, my oldest daughter Mary is turning sixteen. About a month ago, she asked me if she could have a sweet sixteen party. I had no idea what she was talking about. Of course, her mother and I have always given our children presents on their birthdays and let them pick out a cake for dessert. The idea of birthday parties has never set right with me. So, I told her no. She said she understood. However, ever since our talk, she’s been rather sullen and distant. That’s not like her. She’s always been cheerful, obedient, kind—a veritable girl scout. Her being such a good role model for her younger siblings has been a source of pride. They take their cues from her. It’s been disappointing to me. She’s still obedient and kind, but lately not so cheerful. She’s not one to pout or act up; she knows that’s simply not done in the Pace home.

Does she have a boyfriend, Mr. Pace? Is she sweet on someone?

She’s not even sixteen. She hasn’t made her debut yet. No, she sticks to her studies and to her hobbies. She enjoys painting. There will be no boyfriends for a while.

Mr. Pace, with all due respect, sometimes boys and girls in their teen years get sweet on each other. Sometimes, they just like doing things together. Bowling or horseback riding—things like that. I would wager that she wanted to have that party, but not for herself. She might have wanted to have a boy she is sweet on come to her house without the pressure of coming alone or perhaps even knowing she likes him.

That’s absurd! Mary is not some starry-eyed, lovesick little girl.

I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Pace. Starry-eyed, lovesick little girls are one of the delights of creation. It’s a special part of a girl’s life.

Well, not Mary’s, I assure you.

Mr. Pace, you might want to have that party and see if she looks at anyone in particular over the course of the evening. Granted, this is advice from a little shoe repairman with no experience rearing children, so you do what you think is best. Perhaps, Mary is merely going through a sullen phase. That’s a possibility.

Mathias Pace walked out of Otto Sprank’s shop, incensed that his daughter could possibly be a starry-eyed, lovesick girl. He went home and asked her if she would like a party. The idea thrilled her.

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At the party, which was attended by fourteen of Mary’s friends and classmates, Pace kept his distance. He stayed mostly in his study. After a little bit, however, his wife came to the study and told her husband that Mary wanted to dance with him.

Dance with me? Nonsense. A silly party is one thing, but I shall only dance with Mary at her wedding. Maybe at her debut.

Nonetheless, Mathias Pace went outside to the large terrace where the party was taking place. Good heavens, it’s impossible to tell who is dancing with whom. They’re like a flock of geese flapping their wings and hopping around.

Daddy, now that you’re here, would you dance with me? Mary asked.

On cue, the music changed to a slow waltz, and Mathias Pace was in the spotlight with his daughter. For once, he found himself thinking purely of someone beside himself. He saw a lovely young woman, not a little girl, and resisted the urge to tear up. It was a moment neither would forget.

During the weeks following the party, Mary returned to her cheerful self. Mathias Pace even gave her permission to take a driver’s education class at school. He let her practice driving with him in the passenger seat. Pace was not used to being a passenger, except of course when he was being chauffeured.

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Mathias Pace eventually found himself back at Otto Sprank’s shop with some shoes that needed to be repaired.

Sprank, your suggestion of the party for my daughter was right on the money. Mary’s back like she used to be.

I hope she’s even better than she used to be, Otto Sprank replied.

As they talked, an apparently homeless man walked into the shop. The proprietor smiled broadly as the man entered and came from behind the counter to give the man a hearty handshake and a hug.

Mr. Pace, I’d like you to meet my good friend Bert Schiffer. Bert offered Mathias Pace his hand, but he backed away and refused to shake the man’s hand. Otto Sprank said nothing about this at the time.

Bert, Otto Sprank exclaimed, are you a sight for sore eyes!

Thanks, Otto, Bert replied, you’re looking pretty dapper yourself. They both laughed. Neither man would ever be called dapper.

Bert, I was thinking about you the other day. I found a pair of shoes back in my storeroom. They had your name written all over them. Let me go get them to see if you like them. Otto Sprank then went to the back to retrieve the shoes.

Bert attempted to initiate a conversation with Mathias Pace. Mr. Pace, you’re a really successful businessman from what I hear.

I’ve done okay, was Mathias Pace’s curt reply. He obviously had no attention of chatting with this street person. In fact, he was getting ready to leave when Otto Sprank came back out with a pair of high-top shoes.

Oh, Mr. Pace, don’t go. I want you to see how spiffy Bert looks in these shoes. He presented the shoes to Bert, who sat down, removed his ratty old ones, and replaced them. The new ones were hardly stylish but looked great on him. Well, Mr. Pace, what do you think?

I think they look just fine. I’m afraid you two gentlemen will have to excuse me. I’m needed at home.

Don’t leave just yet, Mr. Pace.

I’ve got to go, Otto, Bert announced. You know, places to go and people to see. These shoes are dandies.

And thank you for these shoes, Bert. I can’t wait to start whipping them back into shape. With that, Otto Sprank gave Bert another big hug followed by a two-handed handshake. Don’t be a stranger. You’ve always got a friend here. And thank you for serving our country.

Goodbye, Otto. Good evening, Mr. Pace It was nice meeting you.

Mathias Pace said nothing.

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After Bert left the shop, Mathias Pace for once in his life had an awkward look on his face. Then Otto Sprank gave him a tongue lashing he would never forget. Mr. Pace, I know you’re a big shot and all that. But how in hell can you call yourself a man? What you just did was unconscionable. I don’t care if you ever set foot in my shop again.

To add to the awkwardness, Mathias Pace now looked astonished. No one ever spoke to him that way. Listen, Sprank, I know in your little world what I might have done, or not done, may have seemed rude. You realize I could buy out your little business in a heartbeat?

Of course, you could, Mr. Pace. You could buy out my little business, but you can’t buy out my heart and my soul. They’re not for sale at any price. Do you know who that man was that you just thumbed your nose at?

He’s one of hundreds I see every day littering the streets. One of the lazy, drug and alcohol addicted losers who keep looking for the bottom but never seem to find it.

"It’s all I can do not to grab you by your fancy collar and heave you out the door. That ‘loser,’ Mr. Pace, was one of my best friends in high school. His mother died when he was only four years old. His father was a tyrant and a bully. For his safety, Bert was placed in the hands of social services. He was then shuffled through a series of foster homes, some decent and some horrible. When we were in high school, both he and I got kidded because of our faces. Kids called us the ‘bumbly twins.’ I used to get so mad, but Bert just laughed it off.

"After high school, he joined the Army and went to Vietnam. He served with distinction and was awarded several medals for distinguished service in combat, including a Purple Heart. That ‘loser’ returned home to a country that turned its back on him and countless others. He suffered from what is now called PTSD. You know what that is, Mr. Pace. It’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Bert saw things in Vietnam that you wouldn’t want to experience in your worst nightmares. That ‘loser’ became addicted to pain killers prescribed to him by physicians. He could no longer just laugh things off. He spiraled down. When I first saw him after he came back to town, I barely recognized him. He was a shell of himself.

I apologize. I had no idea.

And you have no idea about most of those people you call lazy, drug and alcohol addicted losers. They’re human beings, Mr. Pace. Human beings! Damn you!

Those shoes looked nice on him, Sprank.

His name is Bert. Bert Schiffer. Good evening, Mr. Pace.

Mathias Pace walked the streets, looking for Bert. He began to see the homeless in a different way. He was ashamed of himself. He never spotted Otto Sprank’s friend.

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One evening, at dinner, Mathias Pace’s son Luke held his stomach and complained of pain. Normally, Pace would send the boy upstairs to his room. This time, however, he asked his son to come over to him, felt the boy’s stomach, and asked him where it seemed to hurt. When he touched a certain point, his son winced. Mathias Pace had taught his children not to be whiners and to suck it up when they felt an ache or pain. His son would not complain if it weren’t serious.

He called the family doctor, who told Mathias Pace to take his son directly to the hospital. They arrived there and were greeted by the doctor. Luke was examined and sent directly to surgery. Pace was waiting for his son when he was eventually brought into his hospital room. When his son awoke, the first person he saw was his father.

Luke, you’re going to be just fine. You had appendicitis. You know, I’ve never known anyone who had appendicitis and had to have their appendix removed. How are you feeling?

Groggy.

Sure. You’re still under the anesthetic. While I was waiting, I went to the hospital gift shop and found something for you. I know you like science and thought you might like this book on ecology.

Luke perked up some as he leafed through the pages. We’ve been studying ecology in class this term. This looks great. Thanks, Dad. Placing the book snuggly by him on the bed, Luke stretched out his arms. When Luke was a baby, Mathias Pace held him as he would a trophy. He now leaned over, gave his son a hug, and kissed him on the cheek like a father.

Mathias Pace brought his son home to a party with family and some of his close friends. Parties were becoming more a part of the Pace routine.

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It had been some time since Mathias Pace darkened the doors of Otto Sprank’s shop. He walked by often and looked in, but never stopped. Sprank sometimes looked up, but never so much as waved. He certainly didn’t smile the way he used to. One day, Pace decided he needed to mend a fence.

Mr. Pace. Long time no see. What can I do for you? I don’t think I’ve any shoes that belong to you or your family at this time.

Otto, I came in to apologize for the horrible way I treated your friend several months ago. I still feel awful.

You should, Mr. Pace. He was not only my friend, but he gave the best part of himself for you and for me. That was what I found most offensive.

I know, Otto. And please call me Mathias. I hope you can accept my apology.

It’s Bert you need to apologize to.

I’ve tried to locate him, but to no avail.

And you won’t. He’s dead.

Oh, no.

He died two weeks ago, on Veteran’s Day. There was the briefest announcement in the paper—for a veteran and a hero who served his country with great distinction. He was buried in a pauper’s grave.

That’s horrible. He needs to be remembered better than that. Is there anything I can do?

What’s done is done, Mathias. How’s your family?

They’re fine. My son Luke had a bout with appendicitis, but he’s now back to normal.

And how’s your youngest child?

You mean, um, John?

You had to think for a second of his name, didn’t you? My youngest brother was the last-born child, and I always felt he thought of himself as a sort of an afterthought. Like you, my parents often hesitated before saying his name. Now this might not be true of John, but my brother considered himself weaker and slower than his older siblings. Could John also feel that way, if you don’t mind my saying?

John seems just fine, Otto, but thank you for asking about him.

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Mathias Pace immediately went home and went to his son John’s room.

How are things going for you, John?

Fine. Just fine.

I was thinking. How would you like to go to a baseball game this Saturday? Mathias Pace knew that his son loved baseball, but he was not a very good player because of his weak eyes.

That Saturday, father and son went to the baseball game. It was a local Minor League game, but it meant the world to John. After the game, Mathias Pace had made arrangements for his son to get a soda and sandwich with one of the players.

You know, John, the player said, I understand from your dad that you think that your poor eyesight will keep you from ever being very good at the game.

I guess so, John replied.

I’ve always had weak eyes myself. I was the last one chosen to play. But I loved baseball. I worked hard at it. I’m not in the majors yet, but I plan to be. And even if I don’t make it, I still get to play the game I love. Do you love to play?

Better believe it!

Then keep at it. Practice on your own. Don’t wait for the regular practice to get out there. I’ll bet your father will find the time to throw some balls to you. Right, Mr. Pace?

Pace hesitated for a moment but saw Otto Sprank’s face in his mind. You bet.

That very afternoon, Mathias and his son went to the