Chapter Thirty-Five

During David’s first and only semester at college, he took a Political Science course on American Government. He learned that you couldn’t just walk in off the street and make a law—you needed a member of the Senate or the House of Representatives to sponsor your bill, which would then be debated and had the chance of becoming law. But where would they find a politician willing to introduce a bill mandating bittering agent in antifreeze? Where would they find an honest politician in Congress—someone who wasn’t corrupt, who wasn’t in the pocket of the Antifreeze Lobby?
There was one man who was perfect: the only homeless member of Congress. He had nothing, so there was nothing the Antifreeze Lobby could take from him.
Gary Ackerman had never had any great ambitions to become Congressman. He was happy as a simple high school history teacher in Queens, New York. Every day he would show up for work with a fresh white carnation on the lapel of his suit. Then everything changed when his wife gave birth to their first child. Gary wanted to spend time with his newborn daughter, so he decided to take some time off. If his wife was taking maternity leave, then he would take paternity leave. At this time no one in the United States had ever done such a thing. Paternity leave didn’t yet exist.
His wife begged him to return to work. She was nursing the baby, and they had many expenses and no income. But Gary wouldn’t give in. There were some things more important than money. He had to stand up for what was right, no matter what the consequences. It was a matter of principle. Why should women be able to take time off and not men? It was sexism.
His wife understood and accepted his decision. Her husband was a man who always stood up for what was right, no matter what the consequences. That was why she loved him.
But if neither of them were working, did they have to live so luxuriously? Did he have to wear a white carnation on his lapel if he was just staying home and playing peek-a-boo with his daughter?
He did.
Well then could he at least cut back a little? Did he have to buy a fresh-cut white carnation every morning? Maybe just once a week he could get a fresh one and then keep it in the refrigerator in some water at night to preserve its freshness.
Nothin’ doin’. He would keep buying a fresh carnation, each and every morning.
She understood. He was a man who stood up for what was right. That was why she married him.
Unfortunately the school board was less understanding. They fired him. Now it wasn’t just paternity leave; it was permanent leave. So Gary sued the school board, demanding his job be reinstated.
A long, dramatic court battle ensued. At the end, the court found in Gary’s favor and forced the school board to give him his job back.
They reinstated Gary as a teacher and he immediately quit. He didn’t want his job back, had never wanted it back. But there was an important principle here. A man should have the same rights as a woman. And Gary had to stand up for what was right.
Now he was unemployed and wife gave birth to their second daughter. Gary showed no signs of looking for gainful employment. It seemed the only thing he could do was buy expensive fresh-cut white carnations to put on his lapel and stand up for what he believed was right, neither of which were marketable skills.
His wife gave him an ultimatum: get a job or get out of the house. He reluctantly took a clipboard and notepad, and went door to door collecting signatures to get his name on the Congressional ballot.
Election time came and Gary Ackerman was the surprise winner! The voters had liked his straight-shooting style, boyish good looks, and white carnations.
He arrived in Washington D.C. and it turned out he had a knack for being a congressman. He quickly gathered a reputation as someone who stood up for the downtrodden and stood up to the lobbyists.
He had now been in Congress for seven terms and served as the head of the House Committee on Middle Eastern Affairs as well as the India and Pakistan committee. While his family lived in Queens, he lived on his boat (christened the Unsinkable 2) in Washington Harbor. He had never bought a proper home in Washington D.C. and that was how he came to be known as the Homeless Congressman.
***
At night in the small towns where they showed their flowers, the constellations lit up the sky. But here, in Washington D.C., although it was a cloudless night, the pollution blocked out the stars and they could only see a blurry crescent moon. The flower caravan drove slowly along the Washington Harbor docks and they searched for the Congressman’s boat: a needle in a haystack. All the fishermen had gone home for the night; the only sound was water slapping against the wooden dock. A cold fog hovered. The smell of salty, rotting fish filled the air. The tide was pulling out, trying to drag the boats to sea, but sturdy ropes held them fast to posts on the dock.
“There it is.” Natasha pointed to an old dirty boat with peeling green paint. It was about ten meters from bow to stern. Light poked through the boarded up portholes of its small cabin. On the side of the boat was written with black paint: Unsinkable 2.
The caravan stopped and they got out of the trucks. David climbed down from the gazebo. There was no doorbell to the boat, so he shouted, “Congressman Ackerman!” His voice echoed through the empty docks.
No response. He yelled again.
The cabin door popped open and a man climbed out. David almost didn’t recognize the congressman; he didn’t look like his pictures. The congressman’s pictures made him look happy and cherubic, but this man hadn’t shaved in days, several days worth of graying stubble lined his face, his gray suit was rumpled, his unbuttoned oxford shirt was yellowing. Most shocking of all, he didn’t have a white carnation on his lapel. Maybe they had just caught him at a bad time.
Congressman Gary Ackerman walked towards them, stood up on the edge of the boat, and screamed, “GO AWAY!”
“Mr. Ackerman,” David said. “We heard you’re a man who loves flowers.”
Gary scowled. “What of it?”
“We’re a traveling flower show,” David continued. “We thought you could help us. We want to talk to you about sponsoring a bill.”
“Is this about the Middle East?” Gary asked. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s not about the Middle East,” David said. “It’s about something close to home, something we can do something about. Every year, four hundred children in America die from drinking antifreeze. That means that over a child a day dies unnecessarily from antifreeze poisoning. Every year, ten thousand dogs in America die from fatal antifreeze poisoning. And the solution is so simple. Just a single drop of bittering agent, which costs next to nothing, in each bottle of antifreeze will stop all antifreeze fatalities.”
Gary frowned and shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do,” he said helplessly. He turned and started back to his cabin.
“Mr. Ackerman, this is Howard!” David shouted. The Congressman stopped walking, turned, and looked. “Take a good look, Mr. Ackerman. Howard drank antifreeze. Now he has to live in a bubble. Toby here used to be a hermit. Then he met Howard and it really brought him out of his shell. But he might as well have stayed a hermit. He can’t even pet him or play fetch with him. They can only go bowling. Howard had his kidneys removed and had to take immunosuppressive pills so his body wouldn’t reject the new organ, but the immunosuppressive pills destroyed his immune system, so now he has to live in a bubble, and no one can pet him or play catch with him.”
Gary looked at Howard’s sad mutt face, locked inside a plastic bubble. It was dark on the docks, but David thought he saw the twinkle of a tear in the Congressman’s eye.
Gary picked up a worn plank of wood and dropped it like a drawbridge between the boat and the dock. “Come on up.”
David started towards the boat.
“Take off your shoes first,” Gary said. “No shoes allowed on board the Unsinkable Two.”
The narrow plank was water-worn and jagged splinters stuck out from it. It looked dangerous to walk on without shoes.
“You’re wearing shoes,” David pointed out to the congressman.
“I’m the skipper of this vessel,” Gary said. “I’ll wear shoes if I want.”
David took off his shoes and set them down on the dock. He stepped across the splintery bridge, wincing as the long splinters pierced the soles of his feet; his socks offered no protection. He leapt onto the boat, crunching down on what felt like dried leaves underfoot. Looking down, he saw hundreds of dried-up white carnation blossoms strewn all over the deck along with empty soda cans and bags of chips. David knelt down and started pulling the splinters out of his feet.
Derrick took off his shoes and scurried across the bridge. When he stepped on the boat, he immediately began to wobble. “I think I’m seasick,” he moaned. He rushed to the far side of the deck and leaned his head over the side.
“Try to projectile,” the Congressman said. “If you’re going to vomit, I don’t want it on the side of the Unsinkable Two.”
The others took off their shoes and filed across the splintery plank.
Suddenly Derrick leapt up and made a mad dash for the cabin. “Shark!” he screamed. “I saw a shark!”
David looked down in the water and saw a large shape moving along the surface.
“It’s a manatee,” he said.
“It’s a great white shark!” Derrick screamed from inside the cabin.
“It’s just a manatee,” David assured him. “A sea cow.”
But Derrick refused to leave the safety of the cabin.
Now it was Howard’s turn to get onto the boat. He demonstrated the bubble-navigation skills the he learned at Happy Acres Rehabilitation Center and rolled at the narrow plank. He hit the edge of the plank and began to roll across, tottering along the side. Everyone held their breath, mentally willing the bubble not to fall into the water.
Howard made it. His bubble fell into the boat, crushing some dried white carnation blossoms, then bounced up and over the far side of the boat. He splashed down into the water.
Everyone rushed to the edge and looked down. Howard was floating in his bubble on the water and barking fearfully. Fortunately the splinters hadn’t poked any holes.
They couldn’t reach his bubble; it was too far down.
“Do you have a lifeboat?” David asked Congressman Ackerman. “Or a big net?”
“I got rope,” the congressman said. “You know how to lasso?”
Another manatee was swimming past Howard. When Howard saw it, he panicked. He yelped and ran as fast as he could, spinning his bubble away from the Unsinkable 2 and towards the open ocean.
“Come back!” Natasha yelled. “It’s just a manatee!”
Howard tried to stop running, but the bubble kept rolling across the water, and tossed him all around inside. When the bubble finally stopped spinning, Howard stood up dizzily and tried to run back to shore, but the strong current wouldn’t let him. It pulled him out to the dark, open sea. Soon he vanished into the fog, out of sight, and his muffled whimpering couldn’t be heard anymore.
“All hands on deck!” Gary shouted, unhitching the rope that held them to the dock. The last few stragglers leapt onto the boat just as the plank fell into the water. Gary ran down into the cabin, and came out carrying long wooden oars in one hand and pulling Derrick by the ear with the other hand. The Congressman handed out the wooden oars.
David took one questioningly. “Why don’t you use the motor?”
“It’s solar power.” Gary said and pointed to the solar panels on top of the cabin. Then he waved up at the sky. “You see any solar?”
“Isn’t there a battery?”
“I’ve been meaning to get it fixed. I’ve been busy. Between the Middle East, India, and Pakistan, I haven’t had time.”
Gary ran down into the cabin again and brought out flashlights which he gave to the women. They used them to comb the waters while the men rowed. Congressman Ackerman used his oar to beat on one of the solar panels and keep the beat for the rowing. David could see why the solar panels had broken.
Every once in a while, someone shouted out to Howard, but in general they stayed silent and listened for the sound of Howard’s muted barking. Nothing. All they heard was the wind rustling over the water.
***
י''ז באדר ראשון
ירושלים
February 23, 2008
Jerusalem