{"id":2946,"date":"2019-03-11T08:12:35","date_gmt":"2019-03-11T15:12:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=2946"},"modified":"2019-03-11T08:12:35","modified_gmt":"2019-03-11T15:12:35","slug":"tober-finds-his-way-part-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/2946","title":{"rendered":"Tober Finds His Way Part 3"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"four<\/a><\/p>\n

At four-thirty in the afternoon, rain falling, Tober drives slowly through a maze of streets to a quiet neighborhood in southeast Portland where Augie lives in an old house with three other people\u2014the front yard featuring four large Japanese maples, their fall foliage every hue of burgundy and magenta.<\/p>\n

One of Augie\u2019s housemates, Allison, shares a pot of nettle tea with Tober in the living room and waits with him for Augie to get home from his weekend job as a clerk at Wet Spot Tropical Fish store.<\/p>\n

Allison is thirty-two, Chinese American, with light brown hair and a persistently wrinkled brow, a wearer of frameless pince-nez. She works for a high tech company called Integer Farm, and when Tober asks what her job entails she says, \u201cOh about half the time I\u2019m filing incoming data composites, and half the time I\u2019m mapping info gaggles looking for nascent renegade trends.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re analyzing data?\u201d Tober guesses.<\/p>\n

\u201cSort of,\u201d says Allison, frowning. \u201cOur logarithms do most of the macro-analysis, but\u2026 yeah, what I do sometimes ends up in analyses, but mostly I\u2019m creating amalgam veins for later mining.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo what end?\u201d asks Tober, wondering why the tea tastes so bitter and surmising it must be the water.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor our clients,\u201d says Allison, nodding. \u201cTo facilitate ultra-specific targeting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds very sophisticated,\u201d he says sincerely. \u201cWho are your clients?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, you know, any large company trying to sell something,\u201d she says, matter-of-factly. \u201cWe specialize in centrifuging data our analysts use to design super-fast modalities for optimal penetration and saturation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWow,\u201d says Tober, nodding. \u201cWhat a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a job,\u201d she says, shrugging. \u201cGotta pay off those student loans. We can\u2019t all get full scholarships like Augie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says Tober, the words \u201cfull scholarships\u201d making him think of Jasmy and the volleyball scholarships she turned down. \u201cHe\u2019s very lucky.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s brilliant,\u201d she says, morosely. \u201cWe can\u2019t all be brilliant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d says Tober, wanting to cheer her up, \u201cI\u2019m sure it\u2019s no small feat to create amalgam veins. I couldn\u2019t do that in a million years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, you could,\u201d says Allison, scrunching up her cheeks. \u201cOnce you know the key strokes, they pretty much create themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d says Tober, delighted by the idea of things creating themselves. \u201cLike melodies create themselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says Allison, shaking her head. \u201cIt has nothing to do with music.\u201d<\/p>\n

A silence falls and Tober decides not to say anything more unless Allison asks him a question\u2014the silence lasting for several more sips of the bitter tea before Augie comes in the front door and Tober jumps up to give him a hug.<\/p>\n

Augie is six-foot-one, his red hair cut quite short. Before moving to Portland three months ago, he outweighed Tober by twenty pounds, but he has lost those twenty pounds and then some, and there is a gray cast to his usually rosy skin\u2014the sparkle in his emerald green eyes much diminished.<\/p>\n

After visiting with Allison for a few minutes more, the brothers retire to Augie\u2019s bedroom and Augie closes the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cGads Aug,\u201d says Tober, staring at his brother, \u201cyou\u2019ve lost so<\/i> much weight. Are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI will be,\u201d he says, speaking slowly. \u201cTook me a while to gets things straightened out, but now that I have, I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d He smiles wanly. \u201cI\u2019m so glad you\u2019re here. How was the trip?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat,\u201d says Tober, wondering what things Augie got straightened out. \u201cI met all sorts of fascinating people along the way, the last one being an amazing woman I met in Director\u2019s Park where I did a little busking this afternoon. Her name is Jasmy and she\u2019s a violinist, too. Her band is playing tonight at McSomebody\u2019s Crystal Palace and she wants me to play with them on a tune or two, so she\u2019s putting us on the guest list. Do you want to go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d says Augie, sitting down on his queen-sized bed. \u201cSounds fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t look well, Aug,\u201d says Tober, sitting beside him. \u201cYou\u2019re so pale. I\u2019m worried about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be,\u201d says Augie, shaking his head. \u201cI\u2019m just tired. Might have a little lie down before we go out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what did you get straightened out?\u201d asks Tober, putting his arm around Augie.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d says Augie, taking a deep breath, \u201cI figured out what was killing me, and I put a stop to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my God, Aug. You didn\u2019t mention anything in your letters about something killing you. What was it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe program,\u201d says Augie, his jaw trembling. \u201cI\u2019m coming home, Tobe, not just for Thanksgiving, but to stay. I went down the wrong path. And as Titus taught us, the sooner we recognize we\u2019re going the wrong way, the sooner we can change direction and avoid big trouble. So that\u2019s what I did. I quit the program yesterday and quit my job at the fish store today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoes Mom know?\u201d asks Tober, trying not to sound too happy about Augie coming home to stay.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I called her last night,\u201d says Augie, starting to cry.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh Aug,\u201d says Tober, holding his brother tight. \u201cYou\u2019re the greatest.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

After Augie takes a shower and puts on a lovely gray shirt and brown trousers for going out, he lies down on his bed to rest.<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me Tobe,\u201d he says, closing his eyes. \u201cTell me about your trip.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dressed all in black save for the red ribbon tied in a bow at the end of his ponytail, Tober stands at the window, rain pattering on the glass, and describes Amelia and Consuela following him from the farmhouse to the truck and back to the farmhouse and back to the truck again as he was getting ready to leave, how Sharon loves being with the girls, what a good mother she is, how both girls are very reserved and fearful of doing anything to upset Sharon, how every day they get a little more comfortable in their new surroundings, a little more trusting that Sharon isn\u2019t just another temporary caretaker, but their mother from now on, a mother who never yells at them and gives them plenty of food and explains things to them over and over again until they understand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I wasn\u2019t ready to leave home,\u201d says Augie, opening his eyes. \u201cAlthough if the program had been what I thought it was going to be, I would have stayed despite the challenges of living in a city. But the program wasn\u2019t even remotely like they told me it would be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou wrote to us about the classes covering information you already knew,\u201d says Tober, coming to sit on the bed. \u201cBut you said you liked Weibel, the neuroscience guy, and you were going to focus on that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to,\u201d says Augie, sighing. \u201cBut they wouldn\u2019t let me, and that was when I realized there was a much bigger underlying problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich was?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026 when I met with the professors who read my papers, the four who were so eager for me to come here, I assumed I\u2019d be working with them. But when I realized after a couple weeks that the first two years of required classes were only going to cover research and theories and historical stuff I\u2019ve already thoroughly studied, I went to talk to those four professors about testing out of those classes, and they all told me I had<\/i> to take them. And when I told Dr. Weibel I didn\u2019t want to waste two years of my life before I could start doing what I came here to do, he got very upset with me and told me I didn\u2019t know what I was talking about. And that pretty much did it, because I do<\/i> know what I\u2019m talking about, and working with him was the main reason I wanted to come here. And when I told him that<\/i>, he said, \u2018Get in line, buddy. Lots of people want to work with me, people much more qualified than you.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a jerk,\u201d says Tober, angrily. \u201cThey asked you to come here. They gave you a scholarship. What\u2019s his problem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs you can imagine,\u201d says Augie, smiling wryly, \u201cI\u2019ve given that question a great deal of thought, and what I now know is that Weibel and everyone here is a functionary of an extremely hierarchic system that purports to be cutting edge, but is actually mired in out-of-date dogma and very slow to integrate the newest information and practices.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDogma never keeps up with the new information,\u201d says Tober, going to the window again. \u201cAs opposed to wisdom, which is a deciphering tool.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly,\u201d says Augie, relieved to finally be talking about this with someone who understands him. \u201cI\u2019ll give you a most telling For Instance of how their dogma lags far behind current knowledge.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh good,\u201d says Tober, returning to the bed. \u201cI love telling For Instances.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo\u2026\u201d says Aguie, sitting up. \u201cThree weeks ago, Weibel gave a public lecture attended by all the Psych grad students, most of the faculty, and anybody else who wanted to come. And the subject of his lecture was a thorough review of the most recent and comprehensive studies proving conclusively that the habitual use of cell phones not only seriously interferes with healthy brain development in children and young adults, but also exacerbates and even creates<\/i> emotional disorders in people of all ages. And as he spoke, every single person in attendance, about two hundred people, save for one August Quincy, was clutching his or her phone and futzing with it as Weibel enumerated the serious damage their behavior was doing to their brains and nervous systems.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid no one else appreciate the irony of the situation?\u201d asks Tober, remembering Annie staring into her phone, hour after hour, filling her time with whatever she was seeing or doing on the little screen until it was time to go to work or eat or have sex.<\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt it,\u201d says Augie, shaking his head. \u201cI hope so, but I doubt it. They are all so deeply enmeshed with their phones.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Dining at a quiet Thai restaurant, Tober describes to Augie his sojourn in Yachats, his impromptu concert in the Green Salmon caf\u00e9, his delightful breakfast with Ruth and Phil and Sylvia, his frightening encounter with Lauren the psychic leech, his icy dip in the mighty Umqua to exorcise Lauren\u2019s poison, his phone conversation with Titus, and his triumphant performance in Director\u2019s Park that culminated in meeting Jasmy.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow,\u201d says Augie, gazing in wonder at his brother. \u201cWhat a day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd while you were snoozing,\u201d says Tober, smiling at the approach of their Kang Dang chicken, potatoes in yellow curry, and brown rice, \u201cI counted up the money I made from busking for that one glorious hour today. Guess how much?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFrom the tone of your voice and the self-satisfied look on your face,\u201d says Augie, grinning at his brother, \u201cI will say\u2026 fifty dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThree hundred and thirty-seven dollars,\u201d says Tober, lowering his voice. \u201cAnd that\u2019s just the paper money. There are hundreds of quarters and piles of nickels and dimes ye to be counted.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood God,\u201d says Augie, gaping at his brother. \u201cYou\u2019ve always had a knack for making money, but this verges on the miraculous.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was miraculous,\u201d says Tober, thinking of Jasmy. \u201cI can\u2019t wait for you to meet her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Arriving at 7:20 at the giant old building that houses McMenamins Crystal Ballroom, they find no place to park anywhere near the ballroom\u2014several hundred people in line waiting for the doors to open\u2014so they have to drive around for fifteen minutes before they finally find a parking place seven blocks away.<\/p>\n

They hurry through the rain to the ballroom, and not knowing that being on the guest list entitles them to go to the front of the line, they take their places at the end of the long line of people slowly entering the building, and they don\u2019t get inside until ten minutes before show time.<\/p>\n

A very large man named Ezra wearing a purple sequin evening gown, his long black hair and black beard wild and frizzy, his skin pale white, his lips painted fire-engine red, leads Tober and Augie backstage where Jasmy and her four band mates are waiting to go on.<\/p>\n

Jasmy is wearing red moccasins and a gorgeous burgundy blouse tucked into pleated black slacks, her long black hair in a three-strand braid. She hesitates to hug Tober, but when he opens his arms to her, she steps right in.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou made it,\u201d she says, thrilled by his strong embrace. \u201cI was starting to worry. I called you and left a message on Augie\u2019s machine.\u201d She turns to Augie. \u201cYou must be Augie. I\u2019m Jasmy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHi,\u201d says Augie, shaking her hand. \u201cI can see why Tobe used the word miraculous<\/i> when describing you. Thanks so much for putting me on the guest list.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d she says, turning to her four cohorts\u2014two men and two women.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is Sandy,\u201d says Jasmy, gesturing to a muscular young woman in her early twenties with short brown hair wearing a sleeveless green T-shirt, shimmering black boxer shorts, green socks, and red running shoes.<\/p>\n

Sandy shakes Tober\u2019s hand and says with a beguiling Irish accent, \u201cYou didn\u2019t exaggerate, did you Jasmy? Tall, dark, and ravishing with a violin. I\u2019m the drummer in case you couldn\u2019t tell from my biceps.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTober,\u201d says Tober, enjoying her formidable grip. \u201cThis is my brother Augie.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sandra looks at Augie, Augie looks at Sandra, and they both feel a sharp jolt of recognition followed immediately by a profound attraction to each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello,\u201d says Augie, his heart pounding as he shakes Sandy\u2019s hand. \u201cWhy do I think I already know you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got me,\u201d she says, keeping hold of him and looking into his eyes. \u201cWhat do you play?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuitar,\u201d says Augie, breathlessly. \u201cAnd I sing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d says Sandra, feigning incredulity. \u201cI sing, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis my father,\u201d says Jasmy, introducing them next to a handsome man in his early forties, two inches taller than Tober and wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants and black shoes, his blond hair cut short. \u201cJulian Beckman. Otherwise known as Beckman. Sweet Papa this is October, otherwise known as Tober.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA pleasure,\u201d says Tober, shaking Beckman\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cLikewise,\u201d says Beckman, matching Tober\u2019s grip. \u201cLooking forward to hearing you play. Jasmy rarely raves about anyone the way she raved about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m looking forward to hearing you, too,\u201d says Tober, laughing nervously. \u201cThis is my brother Augie. He\u2019s as good a guitarist as I am a violinist.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t say that,\u201d says Augie, shaking Beckman\u2019s hand. \u201cNot even close. Pleased to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd speaking of guitarists,\u201d says Jasmy, gesturing regally to a handsome burly Mexican fellow with a shaved head wearing a red T-shirt and white pants. \u201cThis is Pedro Martinez.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHola,\u201d says Pedro, nodding to Tober and Augie.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Marie,\u201d says Jasmy, putting her arm around a striking woman in her thirties with long auburn hair wearing a red sequin blouse, short black skirt, pink tights, and red high heels. \u201cOur bass player.\u201d<\/p>\n

Marie gives Augie and Tober a little bow and says with her strong French accent, \u201cI hope you like the show.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sure we will,\u201d says Tober, dizzy with excitement.<\/p>\n

Now Jasmy presses close to Tober and says, \u201cCome back at the break and we\u2019ll figure things out for the second set. I\u2019m so glad you came.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe, too,\u201d says Tober, kissing her cheek. \u201cBreak a leg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Ezra escorts Tober and Augie into the huge ballroom where legions of people of all ages and colors are waiting for the show to begin.<\/p>\n

The vast area in front of the stage, about half the room, is filled with four hundred cushioned folding chairs, all the chairs taken save for two in the front row where Ezra deposits Tober and Augie\u2014the back half of the room open for milling around and dancing.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at all these people<\/i>,\u201d says Augie, agog at the colorful assembly. \u201cThere must be a thousand people here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be five times more than can fit in the Arcata Playhouse,\u201d says Tober, referencing the largest venue he and Augie have ever played in. \u201cThe energy in here is beyond anything I\u2019ve ever felt before, yet I don\u2019t feel menaced by it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNor do I,\u201d says Augie, relaxing. \u201cThis is by far the best I\u2019ve felt since coming to Portland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s happiness,\u201d says Tober, turning in his seat to look at the expectant audience. \u201cThat\u2019s what it is, Aug. They\u2019re all happy. A thousand happy people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWaiting to see the miraculous Jasmy,\u201d says Augie, playfully punching Tober\u2019s arm. \u201cAnd she\u2019s crazy about you. Your timing is impeccable. Imagine how confused you\u2019d be if you hadn\u2019t broken up with Annie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJasmy does seem to like me,\u201d says Tober, finding it difficult to get a deep breath. \u201cI hope I don\u2019t disappoint her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh you\u2019ll be great,\u201d says Augie, smiling sublimely. \u201cJust close your eyes and pretend you\u2019re at home jamming along with the stereo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Tober and Augie grew up without television, and in the absence of that media, they both became excellent guitarists and violinists, both learned to play the piano fairly well, and they spent many thousands of hours listening to music and playing and singing along.<\/p>\n

By the time Tober was twelve and Augie was eleven, they could play the entire Beatles repertoire in several keys on violin and guitar, as well as all the songs of Rogers and Hammerstein, Lerner and Lowe, B.B. King, James Taylor, Fats Waller, Stephen Sondheim, Hank Williams, and hundreds of jazz and folk and rock and pop and soul standards. Tober\u2019s favorite singers are Chet Baker, Ray Charles, Ella Fitzgerald, and Iris DeMent; Augie\u2019s favorites are Eva Cassidy, Tony Bennett, Nina Simone, and Leon Bibb.<\/p>\n

Having attended hundreds of rehearsals of the Eureka Symphony orchestra, and having played the classical string quartet repertoire with their mother and her musical colleagues for their entire lives, and having been obsessed with Brazilian choros, Argentinian tangos, and Irish fiddle tunes, Tober and Augie\u2019s knowledge and appreciation of music is both deep and wide.<\/p>\n

But they have never seen or heard anything quite like Ordering Chaos: the first number a jazzy Latin Afro salsa, the second number incredibly harmonic jazz fusion, the third number a fabulous rendition of a Django Reinhardt tune.<\/p>\n

At the end of the Django Reinhardt, Augie says to Tober, \u201cI know the expression lacks specificity and doesn\u2019t really do justice to the full extent of what I\u2019m experiencing, but I\u2019ll use it anyway. This is blowing my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMine, too,\u201d says Tober, nodding in agreement. \u201cBlown to smithereens.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re such<\/i> good players,\u201d says Augie, transfixed by Sandy and the entrancing way she dances on her seat as she drums. \u201cCan you believe Beckman? He\u2019s impeccable. He\u2019s\u2026 I\u2019d give anything to take lessons from him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can!\u201d says Tober, excitedly. \u201cYou\u2019re free now. You can do anything you want.\u201d He bounces his eyebrows. \u201cDrum lessons from Sandy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be fun,\u201d says Augie, as the band kicks into rollicking folk rock, Marie singing the verses, Jasmy and Sandy joining Marie on the chorus, and Pedro playing a searing guitar solo that brings the house down.<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Backstage during intermission, Joseph, a short bespectacled sound technician wearing a neon-blue jumpsuit, suggests attaching a small microphone to the sound hole of Tober\u2019s violin, and Tober says, \u201cI\u2019m very sorry, but I don\u2019t want to attach anything to my violin. I\u2019m quite good at playing into a microphone, if that\u2019s an option.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, that\u2019ll work,\u201d says Joseph, winking at Tober. \u201cWe\u2019ll set you up with a big silver potato. Come on out with me and we\u2019ll get the height right.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Tober goes out in front of the audience with Joseph and stands at ease with his violin as Joseph attaches a silver potato-shaped microphone to a mike stand and adjusts the height of the stand so the microphone is about ten inches away from where Tober holds his violin to play.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be riding the sound,\u201d says Joseph, looking up at Tober. \u201cBut keep in mind roughly ten to fifteen inches away. Yeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d says Tober, following Joseph backstage.<\/p>\n

Jasmy takes Tober\u2019s free hand and says, \u201cHow about you and my father opening the second act with a duet?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d says Tober, as she leads him to Beckman who is sitting with Marie on a sofa\u2014Beckman drinking water, Marie sipping a glass of red wine.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know \u2018Manh\u00e3 de Carnaval\u2019?\u201d asks Beckman, giving Tober a hopeful smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cI love that song,\u201d says Tober, nodding. \u201cLuiz Bonf\u00e1. Black Orpheus<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcellent,\u201d says Beckman, picking up his guitar. \u201cKey of A Minor?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep,\u201d says Tober, glad to know they\u2019ll be doing a song he\u2019s played hundreds of times. \u201cHow about you play first, give me a nod, and off we\u2019ll go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShall we run through the changes?\u201d asks Beckman, arching an eyebrow. \u201cMake sure we\u2019re on the same page?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019d like,\u201d says Tober, nodding. \u201cOr we can surprise each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Jasmy,\u201d says Beckman, laughing. \u201cPeas in a pod.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

As the lights dim to announce the start of the second set, Jasmy strides to center stage and waits for the applause to die down before saying to the expectant audience, \u201cIt is my great pleasure now to introduce you to October Quincy, who will join us for the second set and open the proceedings with my father.\u201d<\/p>\n

Beckman emerges to loud applause, followed by Tober who seems totally at ease, which he is, having performed for audiences countless times since he was seven, and never having had anything but fun when performing.<\/p>\n

Standing comfortably at the potato-shaped microphone, Tober nods to Beckman who is seated and holding an electrified acoustic guitar; and Beckman begins to play the lovely Brazilian tune very slowly, his playing flawless and heartfelt; and when he concludes his tender opening, he strums the chords in a slow samba tempo, nods in time to his strumming, and Tober begins to play.<\/p>\n

And though Beckman expected Tober to be an accomplished player, he is so astounded by Tober\u2019s exquisite tone and facility and the eloquence of his variations on that iconic melody, that when they finish, and the audience is cheering wildly, he embraces Tober and says, \u201cThat was by far the greatest musical experience of my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

After the show, Tober and Augie meet Jasmy and Beckman and Sandy and Pedro and Pedro\u2019s wife Chita at Toro Bravo<\/i>, a commodious tapas restaurant, an ideal place to eat and drink and unwind.<\/p>\n

Tober is exhilarated and exhausted\u2014his vision of returning home with Augie and building a couple of houses on the land and living there for the rest of his life is rapidly dissolving into visions of living in Portland with Jasmy and playing music with great musicians and\u2026<\/p>\n

\u201cI just gotta say,\u201d says Pedro, looking across the table at Tober, \u201cI\u2019ve never heard anybody say so much with so few notes as you. You know what I mean? It\u2019s like you don\u2019t have to play lots of notes because the ones you play are so right. Not that you can\u2019t play fast, you can, you\u2019re fantastic, but\u2026 sometimes you remind me of like a shakuhachi player, only with a violin. You\u2019re just great, man. You blew my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d says Tober, touching his heart. \u201cI think you\u2019re an amazing guitar player.\u201d He looks around the table. \u201cI think you\u2019re all amazing, and what\u2019s even more amazing is you found each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJasmy found us,\u201d says Sandy, who is sitting beside Augie and holding his hand under the table. \u201cShe\u2019s the great bringer together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas she always that way?\u201d asks Augie, looking at Beckman.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlways,\u201d he says, smiling at his daughter. \u201cShe started a neighborhood club when she was six, and not just for other kids. It was for people of all ages.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was the name of the club?\u201d asks Sandy, who is fervently hoping to pry Augie away from his brother for the night.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Interesting Story Club,\u201d says Jasmy, her dimples triumphant. \u201cWe met every Wednesday afternoon after I got home from school in our living room, and Alta, my grandmother, served cookies and tea.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd some Wednesdays,\u201d says Beckman, looking at Tober, \u201cas many as twenty people would show up to tell their interesting stories.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long did the club last?\u201d asks Augie, smiling in wonder at Jasmy.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s still going,\u201d says Beckman, laughing. \u201cThough of late it\u2019s usually just my mother who is eighty-seven, Louise Arbanas who is ninety, Allan Forsyth who is seventy-nine, sometimes me, sometimes my wife, and the Portman twins come for the cookies, but rarely stay for the stories. They are nine-years-old and not known for sitting still.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

On the way home from Toro Bravo<\/i>, Tober driving, Augie says, \u201cSo I guess we won\u2019t be heading home until Monday now, having said Yes to lunch with Jasmy and Beckman and supper with Jasmy and Sandy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBrilliant deduction, Holmes,\u201d says Tober, yawning.<\/p>\n

\u201cSandy asked me to spend the night with her,\u201d says Augie, who has only had one girlfriend in his life\u2014Helen Morningstar, who broke up with him after two years when they were both seventeen.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you want to?\u201d asks Tober, who wouldn\u2019t have minded having Augie\u2019s bed all to himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes and no,\u201d says Augie, gazing at the passing scene, lights blurring in the rain. \u201cYes because she\u2019s a beautiful woman with a great sense of rhythm and I\u2019m deeply smitten with her, and no because I hardly know her and I\u2019m so tired and I\u2019d rather wake up and talk to you before I talk to anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDitto,\u201d says Tober, turning onto the quiet street where Augie lives. \u201cWake up and try to figure out who we are now and what we might do next.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

At eleven o\u2019clock the next morning, a sunny Sunday, with two hours to spare before they meet Jasmy and Beckman for lunch, Tober and Augie go to Director\u2019s Park, place Augie\u2019s open guitar case on the ground in front of them, and begin busking with a medley of Beatles songs, some instrumentals, some they sing together in close harmony\u2014many of the people in their swiftly growing audience singing along.<\/p>\n

They follow their half-hour of Beatles tunes with instrumental versions of Bacharach and David\u2019s \u201cThe Look of Love\u201d, Van Heusen and Burke\u2019s \u201cBut Beautiful\u201d, the Gershwin brothers\u2019 \u201cI Loves You, Porgy\u201d, and finish with a zesty version of \u201cHey Good Lookin\u2019\u201d by Hank Williams, their hundreds of listeners applauding wildly at the blazing denouement and showering the guitar case with money.<\/p>\n

As they gather up their loot and make ready to leave Director\u2019s Park, several people inquire of them if they have CDs for sale, several people ask to be on their mailing list, and lastly a darling four-year-old boy runs over to them, hands Augie a five-dollar bill and says, \u201cDo you want to come over to our house for lunch?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you so much,\u201d says Augie, taking the money from the little boy. \u201cWe\u2019d love to have lunch with you, but we already have a lunch date.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d says the boy, frowning sadly. \u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

At which moment, a woman in her early thirties with long brown hair accompanied by a middle-aged woman with perfectly-coiffed short gray hair, both women elegantly dressed, join the darling little boy, and the younger woman smiles ravishingly and says, \u201cHi. He loves your music and so do we. We are wedding and special events planners and we\u2019re wondering if you\u2019re available to play at weddings and bar mitzvahs and anniversary parties and events like that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have done some weddings,\u201d says Tober, taking her proffered card. \u201cBut we don\u2019t actually live around here. We\u2019re visiting from California. But we\u2019ve been talking about possibly living here for part of the year, so\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell should you relocate,\u201d says the older woman, her accent inherited from Yiddish-speaking parents, \u201cplease give us a call. We\u2019d love to use you. You\u2019re not only fantastic musicians, you\u2019re both very good looking which is a selling point, believe me. And by the way, we pay very<\/i> well. Do you have a card?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do,\u201d says Tober, fishing one out of his wallet.<\/p>\n

October \u201cTober\u201d Quincy<\/p>\n

Composer X Violinist X Carpenter X Gardener<\/p>\n

Fruit Tree Pruner X Collector of Special Stones<\/p>\n

Reasonable Rates X Inquiries Welcome<\/p>\n

\u201cOh I love this,\u201d says the woman, looking from the card to Tober. \u201cI collect special stones, too. You must come for lunch next time you\u2019re in town. I\u2019m Naomi. This is my daughter Teresa and my grandson Jacob.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Awaiting their lunch in a vibrant upscale Mexican restaurant called Nuestra Cocina<\/i>, Beckman raises his glass of horchata and says, \u201cI\u2019d like to propose a toast.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober raises his glass of not-too-sweet lemonade, Augie his horchata, and Jasmy her root beer.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo our good fortune in meeting each other,\u201d says Beckman, gazing at Tober and Augie. \u201cMay we have many meals together.\u201d<\/p>\n

They clink glasses and drink, and Augie says, \u201cAnd may I one day take guitar lessons from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny time,\u201d says Beckman, clinking glasses with Augie again. \u201cAll you have to do is come to Mountain Home Idaho, a grueling eight-hour drive from here, or a pleasant two-day trip.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s about how long it takes to get from here to Fortuna,\u201d says Tober, gazing amorously at Jasmy. \u201cThat\u2019s the nearest town to our place. We\u2019re just a few miles inland from the mouth of the Eel River.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jasmy pouts adorably. \u201cWe all live too far away from each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s one way of thinking of it,\u201d says Beckman, winking at his daughter. \u201cOr you could say we now have three marvelous places where we can meet and play music and go on adventures together.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0fin<\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

At four-thirty in the afternoon, rain falling, Tober drives slowly through a maze of streets to a quiet neighborhood in southeast Portland where Augie lives in an old house with three other people\u2014the front yard featuring four large Japanese maples, their fall foliage every hue of burgundy and magenta. One of Augie\u2019s housemates, Allison, shares […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[5247,5415,5358,5275,5421,5409,5404,3636,5177,5410,5417,675,5426,5248,5411,84,5420,5419,5406,5224,77,5416,5425,5399,4419,5418,5413,5423,51,5365,5424,5414,5357,5408,9,5422,5412,33,5254],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2946"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2950,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2946\/revisions\/2950"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2946"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2946"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2946"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}