"Howard Waldrop - The Sawing Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Waldrop Howard)

holding his big straw hat in his hand. "Now, here's another one I heerd. We hope
you-all like it. It's from the Abe Schwartz Orchestra and it's called 'Beym Rebn in
Palestine'. Take it away, Sawing Boys."
They hit halting, fluttering notes, punctuated by Rooster Joe's hammered ripsaw,
and then the bucksaw went rolling behind it, Felix pumping up and down on the
handle, Cave Canem bowing away. It sounded like flutes and violins and clarinets
and mandolins. It sounded a thousand years old, but not like moonshine mountain
music; it was from another time and another land.


Something is wrong, for Chris is standing very still, like he is already in the old
oak kimono, and I can see he is not going to be giving me the High Sign.
I see that Little Willie, who never does anything on his own, is motioning to me
and Large Jake to come over. So over I trot, and the music really washes over me. I
know it in my bones, for it is the music of the old neighborhood where all of us but
Miss Millie grew up.
I am coming up on Chris the Shoemaker and I see he has turned on the
waterworks. He is transfixed, for here, one thousand miles from home, he is being
caught up in the mighty coils of memory and transfiguration.
I am hearing with his ears, and what the saws are making is not the Abe Schwartz
Orchestra but Itzike Kramtweiss of Philadelphia, or perhaps Naftalie Brandwein, who
used to play bar mitzvahs and weddings with his back to the audience so rival
clarinet players couldn't see his hands and how he made those notes.
There is maybe ten thousand years behind that noise, and it is calling all the way
across the Kentucky hills from the Land of Gaza.
And while they are still playing, we walk with Chris the Shoemaker back to the
jalopy, and pile in around Miss Millie Dee Chantpie, who, when she sees Chris
crying, begins herself, and I confess I, too, am a little blurry-eyed at the poignance
of the moment.
And we pull out of Brimmytown, the saws still whining and screeching their jazzy
ancient tune, and as it is fading and we are going up the hill, Chris the Shoemaker
speaks for us all, and what he says is:
"God Damn. You cannot be going anywhere these days without you run into a
bunch of half-assed klez-morim."


Glossary to "The Sawing Boys" by Howard Waldrop

Balonies —tires
Bargain Day —court time set aside for sentencing plea-bargain cases
Beezer —the face, sometimes especially the nose
Bleaso! —1. an interjection—Careful! You are being overheard! Some chump is
wise to the deal! 2. verb—to forgo something, change plans, etc.
The Cherry-colored Cat —an old con game
Cicero Lightning and Illinois Thunder —the muzzle flashes from machine guns
and the sound of hand grenades going off
Do a minute —thirty days
Dogs are barking —feet are hurting
Fall Togs —the suit you wear going into, and coming out of, jail
Flit —prison coffee, from its resemblance to the popular fly spray of the time