The Davidson family was what some would call white trash and they knew it. They were aware of the stigma that came with their surname in Livingston Parish and they didn’t care, except for the patriarch of the family, Lehigh Davidson, who at ninety-one, wasn’t in a position to have much influence on his children. He had seen his five children all follow the same path to perdition; his three daughters had all gotten pregnant before they were sixteen and married white trash; young men who had already spent months in the county jail before their twentieth birthday. His sons had fared worse. He looked at Kevin, who was slouched on the sofa that had been placed on the front porch of their home (if you could call a hundred-year-old farm house in rural Louisiana a home), watching TV. Lehigh knew that Kevin didn’t even know what he was looking at. He looked around for something to throw at his lazy son and, finding nothing handy, tossed the paperback book he was reading at Kevin. It hit him in the chest and roused him from his stupor.
Kevin picked up the book and thumbed through it before responding. “Why’d you do that Daddy? I ain’t gonna read this here book ‘cause you know I don’t read too good.” He tossed the book back and turned his attention back to the television.
Lehigh felt all the frustration of watching Kevin start from a very low socioeconomic position and work hard to decrease it as he shouted in his weak voice, “I was trying to get your attention, boy! Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Kevin reluctantly turned his pale, bearded face to his father as his blue eyes fought to focus on the speaker, before saying, “What’s wrong now? You hungry or sump’n?”
“No, I’m not hungry, boy. Turn the TV off. I want to talk to you for a minute.”
Kevin got up and turned off the television before retaking his seat but now he was sitting up and looking at Lehigh. He just sat there gazing blankly until Lehigh spoke.
“You’re sixty-four years old, Kevin, and you aren’t worth shit. Do you know why?”
Kevin thought a minute before responding. “I know I never made no money, Daddy, but it’s been hard all my life. I ain’t got a high school diploma and I never found a good job. But I’ve done my best. You know what it’s been like…hell, you even got laid off from your good job at the sawmill. I ain’t no better than you.”
Lehigh didn’t know what it was like to be a lazy idiot. He had no idea at all, other than what he’d picked up from watching his son turn into one.
He put the book on the table and said, “Go and get us a beer, boy. I need to talk to you before I die.”
Shaking his head skeptically, Kevin did as he was told and returned with two cold light beers. Lehigh opened his beer and sipped it before getting to his point.
“Your momma and I made sure you graduated from high school, hoping you would make something of yourself. What went wrong?”
Kevin should have become accustomed to Lehigh’s fits, as he called them, after spending the last two years with his father after being evicted from the trailer park, but he wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t lazy or stupid, but he didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to get life over with, with the least amount of effort.
“What are you getting at, Daddy? You know I looked for work and even tried to enlist in the Army, but they wouldn’t take me because of my bad back. You got me that job at the sawmill and I threw out my back after only a month on the job. I ain’t smart and I admit it, so I wasn’t going to college. There ain’t no good jobs in Louisiana—”
“Hold up right there, boy,” Lehigh interjected. “When you graduated high school, there was plenty of work in the oil industry. You never applied for those jobs, did you?”
Kevin wanted to tell Lehigh to mind his own business, except that he was living in his father’s house for free, so he took a swig from his beer and replied, “I figured that, if I hurt myself at the sawmill, I sure as hell couldn’t be handling pipe at an oil well. Gimme a break. I probably woulda wound up in a wheel chair if I’d tried that kinda work.”
Lehigh sipped his beer and thought of another strategy. Finally, he said, “Okay, but why didn’t you get a steady job at the warehouse they built on I-12 back in the eighties?”
Kevin shook his head in frustration. “You’re getting old, Daddy. I worked there for a year, until Sharon divorced me and I missed so much work dealing with her and the kids that they fired me. They had a “three-strikes” rule but I guess you don’t remember that.”
Lehigh had forgotten that.
Kevin finished his beer and, expecting that Lehigh’s walk down memory lane would last a while, went inside for another. When he returned, he didn’t give Lehigh a chance to continue, instead announcing, “In case your memory has failed you, I also worked at the Walmart in Denham Springs and at the electrical supply company over on route ninety. I liked Walmart but I didn’t get along with the manager, who said I had an attitude problem because I didn’t kiss his ass, and he got me fired. And that electrical supply place only lasted a year. I was laid off after less than six months.”
Lehigh finished his beer and got up to get another himself. He thought about what Kevin had said as he went into the house where he had been born, noting that his lazy son kept the place pretty clean and was actually doing a good job helping out, doing the laundry and cooking. He got a beer from the refrigerator and returned to the porch where he retook his seat.”
Remembering their conversation, he continued it with his first words, “Why didn’t you take advantage of the state program to get people into the caregiver field? You’re doing a great job here and I can see that you have a natural talent for taking care of old people.” He gazed at Kevin until he responded.
“That’s woman’s work, Daddy. I ain’t gonna do woman’s work for a living. I don’t mind helping you out because you’re family, but I ain’t gonna do it for strangers. You’re easy to work with because your mind’s sharp and you have good personal habits, but I ain’t wiping shit off the wall when some senile old woman forgets where the toilet paper roll is.”
Lehigh laughed at his son’s statement, but he also recognized that Kevin didn’t mind helping him. There was no resentment in his voice or his words. He took a big sip from his cold beer and retorted, “You’ve got pretty high standards for someone who’s going to be living on a couple hundred dollars a month when I finally kick the bucket. I think you’re a natural caregiver, Kevin, but your mind is hung up on macho bullshit.”
This was a new line of interrogation for Kevin, who had only had to fend off attacks against his work history before. Now, Lehigh was addressing basic issues that defined who he was, and Kevin wasn’t comfortable with that. He changed the subject.
“You’re always saying how hard it was for your generation but I beg to differ with you.” Then he had an idea that changed his approach. “When did you graduate high school, Daddy?”
Lehigh thought a minute before saying, “Nineteen-forty-seven,” was the response.
Kevin had to get another beer before saying anything. As he entered the run-down house that he lived in with Lehigh, he couldn’t help but chuckle at his epiphany. He hadn’t had too many new ideas and he was looking forward to sharing this one with Lehigh. He got a beer for the old man as well as for himself and returned to the porch.
“Thanks, Kevin,” Lehigh said as he accepted the light beer.
Kevin retook his seat and, after opening his beer and taking a sip, said, “Don’t your see, Daddy? Times have changed, not just by the calendar but everything.” He paused and waved his arms before continuing, “You became a man at the beginning of the post-war boom and look at you now. You live in a house that was built by your grandfather and live on social security. You never had a good job in your life, not because you’re stupid or lazy, which you accuse me of every day, but because you live in Louisiana. Why didn’t you leave Livingston Parish to find a better home?”
Lehigh had to think a minute before he responded, “Because I have family here. I always had jobs that were good enough to support my family so why would I have left?”
Kevin took another drink and said, “That’s it, isn’t it? Good enough. I’ve always felt the same way. There you have it. If I remember my social studies right, you grew up in the heyday of American power and all you amounted to was a machine operator in a sawmill. You never had to look for a better job and, by the time they closed the mill, you were too old to find something else.”
Lehigh took a long drink before retorting, “What’s your point, boy?”
Kevin scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not making comparisons, Daddy, but I became a man when this parish was suffering from hard times except for the oil field business, which I couldn’t get into because of my back. We were both kept here, in this backwater because of family. Don’t you see, it’s family that holds us back? You did the best you could and so did I, except that I was handicapped and came to manhood at the worst possible time.”
Lehigh took another drink. “What’s your point, Kevin?”
Kevin noticed the change in demeanor and said plainly, “I was screwed from birth and the only way I could have done better was to have packed up and left Livingston Parish. I wish I had done that.”
“That’s why Mary Beth left you. She got tired of waiting for you to make a decision and finally took matters into her own hands.”
“I know, Daddy, and I wished I’d gone with her but that’s all water under the bridge. We talk now and then, but the kids don’t want anything to do with me. They got their own kids now. It’s too late for me. I’m too poor to even visit my grandchildren in Houston. I guess you’re right. I’m a lazy, stupid man who ain’t good for nothing except living with my daddy and keeping you from going stir crazy.”
Lehigh fought the tears that pressed against his eyes and said in a broken voice, “No, you aren’t, Kevin. You weren’t dealt a very good hand. You could have played your cards better but you didn’t fold after the first round. You’re still in the game, but it’s up to you to play your hand because I’m going to die soon. It’s not my desire but I’m getting old. You’ve got to find a way to keep going without me.”
Kevin understood what Lehigh was saying. He’d already thought about it and he hadn’t found a way out of his situation, until today. Something his Daddy had said stuck with him.
“Do you really think I could help old people like you? I mean, am I really helping you or just drinking your beer and sweeping the floor?”
Lehigh felt like his youngest child had finally seen the light, so he replied, “You’ve saved my life, Kevin; maybe you did too good a job keeping me around but at any rate, you have a lot to give to people and not just your old man.”
Kevin realized that was the first good thing his daddy had said to him since he’d moved in. He nodded understandingly and got them both another beer, before saying what had suddenly become clear to him.
“I think you’re right, Daddy. I’m gonna look and see if there’s an opportunity for me in home care for the elderly. I guess I could wipe shit off a wall as long as I was getting paid to do it.”
Lehigh grinned and said, “That’s my boy!”
