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The Route
The Route
The Route
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The Route

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Action, adventure and interpersonal dynamics suffuse this tale of a family that found the ‘route’ from low expectations to fulfillment and financial security guided by the principles and decency of the heads of household (husband and wife).

LanguageEnglish
PublisherAlex Wilson
Release dateApr 26, 2010
ISBN9781452321905
The Route
Author

Alex Wilson

At 72, Alex's wife said 'Why not try writing?' Within 4 months he had six novellas on Smashwords and now, a couple of years later, 18. Obviously there was stuff lurking in there waiting to be said. Alex's wife is also his muse and editor, and a good one. They live in St. Petersburg, FL where there is a surprising amount of writerly activity.

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    The Route - Alex Wilson

    The Route

    A novella by Alex Wilson

    Smashwords Edition

    Copyright 2010 Alex Wilson

    Discover other titles by Alex Wilson at www.smashwords.com

    The Route a novella by Alex Wilson

    It is amazing what we can become if we allow ourselves. For some people, transformation is the product of goal setting, planning and careful task execution (I will, by God, make it happen). For others, it can be fortuitous with open-mindedness facilitating (I will allow it to happen). For way too many, it is mission impossible due to many self-imposed – or self-accepted – restrictions (I can’t because…). It is true that we make our own beds. Our successes and failures are due to our own choices far in excess of how external forces coerce us. As Henry Ford famously said, ‘If a man says he can or if a man says he can’t, he will be right either way.’ Happily, some people can morph from dead-end orientation to become an opportunist, or, at least, one open to possibilities.

    We offer the following tale of a man of small possibilities who ‘came out’ to ride the wave of an expanding personal universe. One made possible, in all fairness, by his basic decency and respect for humanity, at least the humanity of those with whom he encountered in his daily life. Is this a morality tale? Oh, yes, most definitely. Is that a bad thing? Come with us and judge for yourself.

    Meet Frank (Frankie) Costello, a deliveryman of ostensibly low expectations and possibilities for advancement. Meet, also, his extended family and see how his singular epiphany moved through them.

    * * * * * * *

    Geometry. That’s one of the neat things. I heard it that guys naturally understand geometry. Angles and stuff. Girls are supposed to be steadier, able to concentrate better. So why aren’t they better at pool? But, they aren’t, at least damned few. Guys look at a table, they see geometry. The spaces, the angles. What bops what. What goes where. I remember bein’ a kid, goin’ down a street. Puttin’ my foot down so I don’t step on a line. Not the real lines in the concrete. Naw, that woulda been way too easy. I mean the imaginary lines from corner to corner of the concrete square of the sidewalk. Like you couldn’t see them, really . But, I could see them. Just like they was there. I always seen them. Still do.

    * * * * * * *

    Geometry is part of my work every day. I gotta get my rig into some pretty tight-o places, I’ll tell you. Narrow alleys. Cars double parked. Other trucks jockey’n in a close loading yard. Just like pool. You sight the yard just like the table. Where you can swing. Backing, now there’s an art. Freakin’ art backing’ a rig in a tight yard. Some guys never get it. I got it. Always did. Comes natural. Like I got oil in my elbows like Paul Newman says in The Hustler. Remember that? Great pool movie, that one. Jackie Gleason was Minnesota Fats or someone.

    Anyhow, I like my job. I’m good at it. Real good. Ask my boss. Better yet, ask my customers. The boss never sees me drive. What would he know? But, the customers…they’re always sayin’, Frank, you’re amazing’ or ‘You’re the best, Frank.’ I like them, most of them. No, all of them except that sourpuss, Guido. That’s my boss. He thinks he’s the Godfather, how he acts.

    Actually, I should be the Godfather with a name like mine. You know my name? It’s Frank Costello. Yeah, just like the gangster. I should have his money…or, the money he used to have. Someone bumped him off, I guess. Hell, I’d take Lou Costello’s money.

    Anyhow, I’m with the poor branch of the Costello family. My old man laid brick. Layin’ brick for so many years, he had some shoulders. He could pick up a Volkswagen. Actually, he did! I saw it when I was 10, 11. Picked up one side, anyhow. Just grabbed the running board and tilted it up on two wheels. Could’a rolled it right over except it belonged to Jerry across the street. Dad was just showin’ off. Everyone laughed, even Jerry.

    Anyhow, I gotta get crackin’. First stop, Gracie’s.

    * * * * * * *

    Gracie ain’t no beauty…on the outside. But, she’s a good heart. She deals with the bums, you know, the homeless. She don’t dust ‘em off like most diner owners. Actually, the owners aren’t that bad. Managers are the worst. Really nasty with the bums. No, Gracie keeps food for them. Don’t get me wrong, she doesn’t take any shit. Makes ‘em act polite and respectful or she has no time for them. But, the mangiest bum, if he – or she – acts decent, Gracie treats ‘em like a guest. Has a little table and some chairs for them outside the kitchen door. She’s good people.

    ‘Afternoon, sport. Sleep in again?’

    ‘Geeze, Gracie, it’s not even six yet. What time you want me here, five?’

    ‘I’m here, ain’t I?’

    ‘Yeah, but you don’t have no home. You gotta be here.’

    ‘Cheeky bastard. Loafin’ around in that fancy truck of yours half the day… So, how’s Madeline, the kids?’

    ‘Growin’ bigger every day. Madeline, that is. Kids stay the same.’

    ‘Chauvinist pig. I’m gonna tell Madeline.’

    ‘You’d sign my death warrant, Dragon Lady.’

    ‘I don’t have time to socialize with the likes of you. Want some coffee, maybe a roll?’

    ‘Gracie! I’m a married man!’

    ‘You’ll be

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