Chương 5: Book 1 - Chapter 4

That night, when it was my turn to talk about my day at dinner, I was proud to announce, "I'm taking the Sixth Grade test tomorrow!"

"That's impressive," Dad said immediately.

"That's wonderful news, Johnny!" Mom added. Mattie had the most to say.

"Wow, Johnny, that is so many grades! Do I have to skip school too? I like my class and friends." Mom smiled reassuringly.

"As long as you are happy in your class you can stay with your friends." Then she gave Dad a questioning look, but he shook his head, giving her some signal. After dinner while Mattie and I watched TV they went into Dad's office for a quiet chat.

"Johnny? Can you come to your Dad's office?" Mom called from the office door. I entered Dad's office, finding them both waiting for me. While it has his desk and trophy walls, it really is mostly a library. I ran my hand along one of the many shelves holding every book Dad has ever read, as I walked toward where they were seated. The collection was clearly another trophy. Some men hunt deer and mount the heads, my Dad hunts books and certifications. I sat on the small couch next to Mom.

Dad sat in his reading chair next to the dark wood of the card catalog. Mom snuggled me up to her, and Dad smiled at us, as he began.

"We are so proud of what you've accomplished the past few days. But, we have some worries." Mom squeezed me tight.

"I worry about you growing up too fast." Dad continued, "We both do. We worry about a lot of things. That's what parents do. I know you're excited, and proud to have all this attention, and such amazing accomplishments. You should be."

"But we worry you'll go too far, too fast, and push yourself further than you need to. You're almost eight—that's still pretty young to do a lot of things on your own."

"It's okay," I tried to assure them, "I see where I'm headed, and I'm willing to take my time to enjoy it." Dad smiled warmly.

"Your IQ test was very impressive. It's clear that you are very smart, and that you pick up knowledge and skills very quickly."

"My son's the smartest kid on the planet," Mom bragged. Dad nodded, "There's something important I've learned about knowledge," he waved his hand at his bookshelves, "Intelligence is the ability to reason. Knowledge is the sum of what you've learned. Experience is knowledge verified by practice and observation. Wisdom—that's where it all comes together: using intelligence, knowledge, and experience to make good choices."

"We don't expect you to make perfect choices every time, just because you are smart. Your father had to go out and do things to verify what these books said. That's experience," Mom added. Dad agreed, "Exactly. Wisdom is taking that intelligence, that knowledge, and that experience, and using it to make good choices. We expect you to make mistakes. Being smart will help, but it still will take time to gather knowledge, have amazing experiences, and learn to use wisdom when making choices."

"So I should expect to fail?" I asked. He smiled calmly.

"Certainly. Nobody wins every time. More important than winning, is never failing to learn."

"Your Dad mentioned observation as part of experience, Johnny. That's a key point: you don't have much experience yet, and it's not something that's easy to rush." Dad saw the look on my face and explained more thoroughly.

"You can learn more from failure than success. But, it doesn't have to be your failure. Observation of others, how they do things, how that affects how others see them, and how they succeed or fail. That is how young people get access to others wisdom."

"It's important your entire life, not just when you are young," Mom added. It was sobering. I knew my Dad was smart but I'd never heard him talk philosophy before. Mom whispered in my ear, "Brainy cowboys are the best." Then she giggled.

"I promise to let you know if it becomes too much," I told them, knowing that I would rarely ever slow down. There was too much to do.

"We will be proudly watching. If you need to take a break, or slow down the pace, that's completely okay. You've got a lifetime of learning ahead of you. There's no need to take shortcuts, or rush. We'd be proud of you even if you weren't so smart," Dad said.

"I understand. I'll leave my school books at school from now on. I can enjoy being a kid at home."

"That sounds like a fine idea," Mom said.

"Very wise," Dad agreed.

"I did clean out my desk in Mrs Evans's class. I'm going to be reading and doing school work at my own pace. Principal Lewiston will either have me at a desk in his office, or in the library while I study." The meeting ended with hugs from them both. It was a confirmation that I was deeply loved by both my parents. Three days later, I was spending quiet time at the library studying the Seventh Grade material. The librarian hung up her phone after a call.

"John, you're wanted at the Principals office." I put down my books, and headed down the hallway. I was quickly ushered into the Principal's office, where I was greeted by a waiting crowd. Mom, Dad, Principal Lewiston, Superintendent Clayton, and a new person, a medium built blond gentleman with a face that hinted amusement but didn't seem to quite smile.

"Come in, John, and take a seat," Principal Lewiston said, gesturing toward the couch.

"We are very proud of the progress you've made, son," Superintendent Clayton added, offering a firm handshake.

"We have a very important guest here who is eager to meet you.

"John, this is Dr Thompson. He is the Dean of Admissions at the University of Tulsa, the Dean of Clinical Psychology, and a good friend of mine." Dr Thompson started the conversation.

"I'm very glad to meet all of you. John has made the staff in my department quite excited. Having looked at the school progress he has made in the last week—reading and testing out of four grades—I am very impressed!

"With five weeks of school left, plus an entire summer if necessary, we are quite sure that he will be able to complete his schooling in time for him to join us at the University of Tulsa this fall. If that doesn't happen for some reason, he's welcome to join when he's ready. I don't expect you to answer today, but I wanted to tell you a little bit of what we considered when we decided to offer John a full scholarship.

"We don't think it would be good to put him in the dorms, so the scholarship includes a housing stipend. We've also added a travel allowance so he can be driven from his residence to campus for classes. It will also include all his meals on campus, and all books and classes covered for any class he wants to take while at our school.

"It's all here in a packet so take your time to review it. Now I understand that Clayton here has signed you up for the June ACT exam. This scholarship is contingent on two items. First, graduating from high school, and secondly, scoring in the 75th percentile or better. That's a score of 25 or better on your ACT's."

"That's an amazingly generous offer," my Dad told Dr Thompson.

"We will examine the packet carefully."

"As I mentioned, we are quite excited by John. This will be our school's first venture into recruiting a young prodigy. We want to be sure we do it right, and perhaps make it an ongoing recruitment effort. The future will always be young people. Who knew they would be so young?" he said, garnering chuckles.

"Do you have any idea what his actual IQ might be?" my Mom asked.

"While there are additional tests that can record a higher score, over 170 is really the best we can do for now. However, that still makes John one of the smartest people in the country, and one of the 500 smartest people known to history.

"The highest known IQ in the United States belonged to man who graduated college at an early age, but went on to do nothing significant with the rest of his life. In fact he died broke, unhappy, and unfulfilled. Our goal with John is to be sure that doesn't happen."

"William James Sidis," my Dad stated.

"Yes, how did you know?" Dr Thompson asked my Dad.

"I've read articles about him in magazines before."

"I'm surprised. A woman I know is working on a biography of him. He's generally unknown outside psychology circles."

"I look forward to reading the biography when it comes out," my Dad replied.

"I take it that John's intelligence is a family trait?" he asked.

"Quite likely. My husband has an amazing memory, is a prodigious reader, and highly skilled in a wide variety of technical fields," Mom said proudly.

"And what is your educational background?" he asked her.

"I was one semester shy of a master's degree in music at Berkeley when I left college," she told him proudly. If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"Our John here is a fine pianist, because of her training," Principal Lewiston chimed in.

"Yes, he's very good. He played a selection of 10 or so songs from memory just last week." Mom looked over at me.

"How many songs do you know now?"

"I stopped bringing school work home so I could read your sheet music. I've gotten through about half your collection," I told her.

"That includes what's in the cabinets in the library?"

"Yes, including those."

"Dr Thompson, my library cabinets hold thousands of songs, plays, and musicals on sheet music," Mom explained.

"Over 3, 500 actually," my Dad added.

"Each card catalog drawer holds 800 cards, and your collection has filled four and a half drawers—plus the uncounted new ones collecting atop the piano."

"You have a card catalog?" he asked, bewildered by my parents.

"Of course, I said it was a library," Mom said waving a hand.

"My husband has read every book in our library, that's how an item is added. We buy it, play it, or read it, then it gets added to our library collection and cataloged."

"I have, among other certifications, a Level 2 librarian license," my Dad admitted.

"How many licenses and certifications do you have Dad?" I asked.

"Thirty seven to date. It has to interest me, and there has to be a test for it. I'm fully licensed in a number of construction trades, and have a number of other licenses such as my librarian license."

"I see," said Dr Thompson, "You come from a family of intelligent creative people! Nature or nurture. It seems that both your living environment and your parents have mixed up that question quite well. Makes me happy, I've always felt it was a combination effect, not just one or the other." He soon excused himself, then the bell rang. Mattie showed up right after, her teacher had told her to go to the main office instead of the bus after school.

"I'll need the Seventh Grade test Friday morning," I told the Principal on my way out of his office.

"I'll have it ready," he said as he shook my parents hands goodbye. We climbed into Dad's big car, and he drove us to a nice restaurant at Lake Eufalla. We watched a few boats go by, then a couple JetSkis. Dad commented, "It's probably very cold out there on the water this early into spring."

"They were only in swim trunks, they are probably freezing," Mom agreed.

"We should do that this summer," I suggested, just as our dinner arrived at the table. I smiled when I saw we all had a side salad. Dad and Mattie had Thousand Island, Mom had a vinaigrette of some kind, and I had blue cheese. The food was good.

"Can we go see a movie tonight?" I asked.

"It's a school night, and you have a test in the morning," Mom replied. Mattie perked up, "I want to go see Splash!"

"We might be able to go see it in Muskogee this weekend." Mattie cheered, and we smiled at her enthusiasm for mermaids. I looked at Dad and said, "If you take me to my ACT testing in June we can see the new Star Trek movie."

"When is that?" Dad asked very interested.

"June 9th, it's a Saturday."

"That sounds like fun, let's plan on it. Where is the test?"

"Oklahoma City," I told him.

"Very doable. I'll make a note in my calendar, so I don't forget," he told me, sounding very pleased. When we got home there was a message on the answering machine from Grandma Beth. Her message was short.

"Got your letter. I'll try you again on Monday. Still here visiting your sister in Evanston. Looking forward to seeing you guys on the way home. I'll call Monday." Dad had heard the end of the message.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"It's my Mom. She left a message to say she'd call back Monday." I spent the evening practicing the new songs I had learned, but not yet played on the piano. Mom corrected a few tempo mistakes, but otherwise my playing had dramatically improved. Late that evening Dad took a small guitar off the living room wall. He was tuning it when Mattie asked, "Are you going to play Daddy?"

"I'm just tuning it in case John wants to learn to play," he told her. Hearing him, I left the piano behind.

"I thought it was just a decoration."

"Not just a decoration. It's actually a one quarter size guitar. I haven't offered to teach you because it really should have nylon strings not steel, but I came across something at work today that I think will help."

"I'd love to learn, Dad." He handed me the guitar.

"I left it in the car. I'll go get it and be right back," he said. He returned with a bright yellow can, a learn to play guitar book, and a couple of guitar picks, and a guitar playing Barbie. Mattie got the Barbie. He handed me the book, and one pick, then took the guitar to continue tuning it. Mom brought him a cloth to dust it, as it had been hanging on the wall for a long time. Then she examined the yellow can.

"Raymond! Just what do you plan to do with this?" she asked him, holding up the can. It was a liquid plastic coating for tool handles.

"If we dip his fingers in it he can use the steel strings and not hurt his hand."

"Is it non toxic? Is it safe for skin? Will it come off when he has to go to bed tonight?" Dad thought for a moment.

"Looks like I need to read the can first," he told her grinning. She read the can instead.

"Apply in well ventilated area. Safe to use after drying. Drying time 3 hours. Clean exposed skin immediately," she said, looking at him rather crossly.

"I apologize, my dear. Perhaps this plan needs further revision." He strummed the guitar a few times and broke into Presley's 'Love Me Tender.' Her anger disappeared immediately with a shining glint of desire, and pleasure. When he finished Mattie applauded.

"Daddy I want to learn to play the guitar too!"

"I promise to teach you both if you want to learn. I just need to get nylon strings first," he told her. Friday, after I came home as a newly minted Eighth Grader, Dad had not only gotten nylon strings for the one quarter guitar, but also larger half size guitar for me, a learn to play book for Mattie and a couple bright pink picks for her too. The lessons were fun, he started us out on easy chords, where we would each play our individually assigned chord, while he played the others.

Mattie picked it up quickly, and proved to be adept at the fingering required. Saturday morning we drove to Arrowhead Mall in Muskogee. After watching Splash! we were standing in the mall.

"I want to watch it again! I love mermaids," Mattie announced.

"I need to take Mattie to the bathroom," Mom told Dad. He nodded to me.

"Go ahead. I'll be with Johnny," Dad responded. I looked at Dad.

"Bookstore?" I asked, pointing at our usual destination.

"They have a pretty good music store here. Let's check it out first." I dug through the options, finding a couple more guitar training books.

"Ah, there you are!" Mom said as she found us.

"I looked in the bookstore first." I held up my books.

"They have books here too." She laughed.

"Ray, can you check out? I want to eat at the food court here before we drive home."

"Can we do more shopping after lunch? I haven't been to the bookstore yet." I asked.

"Sure, but Mattie and I are hungry, so hurry up," Mom said. It was still light enough that I could go for a bike ride when we got home.

"Mom! I'm going to go for a bike ride down to the river!"

"Okay! Stay out of the water and be back in time for dinner." It wasn't very far. This section of the South Canadian River was surrounded by hay fields. I only passed a couple houses on the way there. I could hear the faint roar of the water from the Eufaula Dam. There, alone with the sound of water, on the sandy riverbank, I slowly went through a Tai Chi long form. The profound quiet settled over me like a balm, allowing me to finally center myself. Each deliberate motion of the Tai Chi was a grounding anchor.

The guitar had been rough. Memories of many other 'me's'—those who became rock, blues, jazz, and country music stars—had, as I learned to play, filled me with recollections of drugs, wild parties, and intense feelings of futility and loneliness. Many were often followed by suicides or drug overdoses. The skills and knowledge remained, but for the first time in several days I moved fully back into the Now.

The memories faded, becoming like something I had watched in a TV show, rather than memories of a life I'd lived. I repeated the long form several more times, each repetition a step further toward pushing the echoes of possible futures out of the quiet rhythm of the Now. I biked home, arriving just in time for dinner. Mom noticed the difference when I got back.

"You okay?" she asked. I tried to explain it away.

"I haven't been getting enough exercise. I think I just needed to get the heart pounding and burn some calories."

"Make it part of your new routine. You don't have homework, so start doing it three days a week after school," she suggested.

"Great idea," I told her, knowing exercise would be important to my future well being.

"Good, now go wash up. It's time for dinner." During dinner I asked, "Mom, if you have just one semester left of school, why didn't you ever go back?"

"At the time it didn't interest me. I saw that I was never going to have a performance career. Teaching and composing interested me, but I didn't require specific credits in those areas to pursue them. I guess if I ever wished to start my own music school I'd have to get my final credits. A Master's in Music is typically the minimum requirement for an educational institution."

"Why not performance? I know you play very well," I asked.

"It is terribly competitive in the concert pianist world. There was always going to be someone just slightly better than me. The alternatives were clubs and lounge singing and they were environments that just didn't appeal to me. Smokey rooms filled with drunk and amorous men. Not fun at all, and I love music because it's fun."

"Have you composed anything?" I asked her.

"Yes, a few pieces. I'll play them for you after dinner." The pieces were purely instrumental. I thought they were good, but my memories showed me that they were average at best. There was one piece that was hauntingly beautiful, though. A few of my future selves were quite excited by the piece, and shared variations of the theme that expanded it from a short melody to a full concerto.

"That last one was fantastic," I told her.

"What is it called? Could you expand it into a full concerto?"

"No name, just number 7. A full concerto? I suppose I could. Do you have any thoughts about how to do it?"

"I'll play what I'm thinking of, but if we write it down, I insist you get full credit and top billing. It's a beautiful melody. It reminds me of watching a sunrise."

"It was inspired by a sunrise," she said with a surprised smile.

"It's lovely that you felt that. Why don't you play it for a bit to see if you can get a feel for it, then show me what it sounds like as a full concerto." Mom left me at the piano, standing back but watching. I carefully played through the melody she had written, then began experimenting with variations on the theme. I never finished the experiments, just played portions of them.

"Mom, we have a tape recorder right? Can you grab that? I want to record this." She grabbed the tape recorder and we set it up next to the piano. I started it, and spoke into it.

"Sunrise number 7, a concerto by Mary and John Cook. April 14th, 1984. Performed by John Cook." Then I played. I poured all my heart and soul into the performance. Every bit of skill I had acquired from countless decades of experience as a concert pianist. The mood flowed over me, and I played with all the love I had for my mother. It was a twelve minute piece, expanded from Mom's original 3 minute melody. As I finished I turned off the recorder.

Then I turned around on the bench, and was enveloped in the biggest hug. Mom pulled back, her face wet with tears of happiness. Dad was standing behind with tears in his eyes too. I understood that Dad sometimes felt that Mom's own success had been put on hold when she met and married him.

"Oh, Johnny! That was so amazing. How did you learn to compose like that? I need to get you more books on musical theory. Maybe some jazz improvisational music to listen to. That was fantastic! I'm going to have to transcribe all of that!" she gushed.

"Yes Mom. Whatever you want to teach me about music I will gladly learn. But, can I have some air?" She pulled back from the hug laughing.

"Now play it again, a little slower. It felt a bit rushed. Sunrises are slow steady things. They only seem to move quickly in retrospect." I started the recorder, and played it again, and she was right, slower was better.