Learning Though the Mail - Essay #2

     At twenty three, I was first introduced to Mark Twain. I was working in a Marine Corps mail room at the time.  It was a small mail room, both in size and operation, located in the general's building on MCB Camp Foster Okinawa, Japan.  There were only three of us who worked there on revolving shifts.  It was good duty, when you could get it, because you got a lot of time off and nobody bothered you when you were working.

     We were allowed to read when the mail was slow, as long as we kept an eye on the window.  You had to make sure the people collecting mail didn't wait to long to be serviced.  One major always collected the mail for his office.  He was a tall man, around six feet, I would say in his forties, with a long face, and just enough gray to mark his age.  Outside of this he was indistinguishable from any other Marine, lean and straight as a board.  He came to the mail room everyday around one o'clock and talked for a while with whomever was manning the room.  He could have had someone get the mail for him, but I think he liked to get out of his office and tell a story or two about growing up on a farm.

“Good afternoon, Sir,” I always greeted him in standard fashion.  His response was always the same. 

          “Where you from, Mackie”?

          “New York, sir”

          “New York, God damn!  You ever see a tree before you joined the Corps”?

     This was his own little segway into talking about life on the farm where he grew up.

          “Yes sir, I've seen trees before”< I'd say shaking my head, trying not to laugh, especially since he'd say the same thing every day.

          “You know I was raised on a farm in Arkansas.”

          “That must have been a lot of fun sir.”

          “Oh it was and a lot of hard work too.  We raised cattle, have you ever seen a cow giving birth”?

          “No sir, I can't say that I have.”

          “The thing about helping a cow deliver is this.  You have to stick you hand up the cow's ass all the way up to your shoulder.  You kind of have to let your head rest there on the cow's ass, while you feel around inside for the calf's legs.  A couple of things to remember are that you have to take your watch and rings you might be wearing off before you put your hand inside.  Its real simple but you have to be careful because the suction is incredible.  If the cow moves suddenly you could dislocate your shoulder or break your arm in the blink of an eye”.

     He went on in detail about this, or other subjects like rocky mountain oysters and what you could do with pig guts, for about fifteen minutes or so.  One day after I had been there for about a month and a half he broke his routine.  Instead of asking where I was from he said “I see your still reading that horror book”.

          “Yes sir,” I think the book was the Tommy Knockers by Steven King.

          “Have you ever read any Mark Twain”?

          “No sir.”

          “No, what the hell do they teach you New Yorkers today?  When I was a boy the schools all taught Twain.”

          “I don't know sir,” I said, as I'd never given the matter of what I read much thought”.

          “You know what the problem with King is you don't you?  He can only write one kind of book. A horror book, he has no other talent.  Now Twain on the other hand's a writer.  He wrote a great variety of works.  He wrote poetry, novels, short stories, fiction, non-fiction and for Christs sake he even ran a newspaper!  What has King done”?  I ask you except sit in his little house up in Maine and turn out the same shit book year after year”.  With this he collected his mail and left.

     Mark Twain, the guy who wrote Tom Sawyer, the book you were forced to read in school.  I'll confess to you now, that I never read the book then.  I was content to cheat and use cliff notes to get a poor but passing grade in my English classes.  Although, I have several times since then read the book and stand amazed that something you were taught in school could have something real to say .

     I have grown to be a real fan of Mark Twain because his stories are just that-stories.  It's like you are standing there talking to him when you read one of his books.  Everything he writes is taken from what he has noticed going on around him, with just enough of an embellished fish story in it to keep it interesting.  He shows how similar all people are to each other and how we all have pretty much the same experiences.  When I read Tom Sawyer, I can't help to think back to my own childhood and notice how closely it relates to Tom's.  I can remember going out in the woods and playing Robin Hood with my friends just as Tom does.  Keeping in mind that the book was written over a hundred years ago, this is amazing to me.  

     His long-lasting appeal and relevancy is what I admire most about Twain.  His books could almost be history books if they weren't fiction.  Mark Twain was a great observer of the world and I think that's what I would like to be as a writer.  Someone who makes notes on how people saw the world in his time.  I have to say that I'm thankful to the major for introducing me to Twain and for all that I got out of him.  I have, however, gotten a lot more from Twain.  He has become more of an old friend than someone whose books I read.  When I pick up one of his books now, it's like meeting my friends at the pub.  We have a couple of pints and a good cigar, and before I know it his words are playing like a movie in my mind.