The Polish Embassy

I like to drink in the morning. Wake up slow. Let the day settle in. Scare away the demons which mess up my sleep.

The Athletic Club was built around the turn of the century. The Polish wanted a place to gather, celebrate their new lives in a new country, remember the old country and the people from whence they came. Me, I was thirsty and this was my office.

B Brian was my personal bartender. My beer was waiting, warmed for twenty minutes, room temperature, before the golden water filled my insides. He thought I was nuts.

I conducted no business before my first beer. By 10:15, there was a line of dead people waiting to talk. B Brian just shook his head.

“Hi, my name is Jeannie LeBeau. You the writer, that talks with the dead?

“Yes, the great confessor. How long have you been dead?”

“Getting on fifty years. Dying isn’t all its cracked up to be. It ends. You can feel sorry for yourself or you can stand up and get on with living.”

“Living while dying,” I asked? She took a large drag from her cigarette as I stole a look. Her red smudged lips and her painted face with the wrinkly skin and rouge applied to her cheeks showed a life lived. I nodded at B. Brian for another drink.

“Tough day at the office? First one went down pretty fast. What is that like?

“What do you mean?”

“Dead people. Talking with dead people,” as he put the beer in front of me.

“Tell him, if he opened his mind he might learn a few things.”

“Jeannie says if you weren’t such a blockhead…”

“Jeannie,” shaking his head, walking away and filling Blue Noses bottomless glass.

“I spent my early years peddling my wares down at the National Hotel on second. That was where I met Jack. Railroad men worked long hours, long days and all men need a little love. I worked with Teddy and Elmer down at the Hurry Back. Rackem Teddy. The Cunninghams were good bosses and after my Jack had died they got me a place on the third floor of the Williams Hotel. Walk to work.”

“Downtown Winona?”

“The Hurry Back. Best years of my life. I remember using a microwave for the first time. What a mess. The boys laughed about it for weeks. Probably still laughing.”

She got kind of quiet. “Miss the old boys, the young kids. Wishing they realized dying ain’t really dying. What ever happened to that cute little Reed?”

“Started talking with the trees, grew a beard. Darling wife.”

“I always felt respect from those kids. They had fun with me but at the end of the day I felt their respect. You meet Joseph yet?”

“Joseph?”

“Dywan. Joseph Dywan. The guy setting on your left. He is kind of quiet until the singing bartender shows up.”

I looked to my left. The chair was empty. I wondered how many other things I wasn’t seeing on the other side.

“Been gone over a hundred years. Drank himself to death while living. At least that is what he tells me. Never met him while living.”

“B Brian,” I yelled. “Give me some of the Irish!”

“A good day for the demons eh.” He was laughing as he poured the Jameson. “You affirm my belief that even those with a screw loose, have some purpose.”

“Joseph likes the singing bartender. Frank Sinatra, Don Ho, Elvis, singing the songs of a different era. He says he pours a mean drink.”

“I got little energy left, dealing with you and the dead. Singing? You are insane. Who is Joseph?”

I heard a quiet whisper. “Music, music, can take you to another place. A better place. The sound of glasses meeting and good cheer. The gentle tones of a piano relaxing the mind from a tired day. Working, working all our living years. Name is Joe. Jeannie got me out of my shell.”

“What a kind thing to say, Joseph. To think love exists on the other side. Different generations finding love.” Jeannie giggled.

“I was dead by thirty Jeannie. Drank myself to death. Never left Moms house. Started drinking when I was eight. Never stopped.”

“I’d like to meet her Joseph.”

“You know how life is on the other side, Jeannie. I ran into her once, shortly after she passed. Not sure I will see her again.”

“She must have been a fine lady.”

“I could have done her better.” A single tear rolled down his cheek. He wore a hat with Winona Coal on the front. His wearied skin seemed to echo that of his love, Jeannie.

I nodded my head as B Brian poured me another. I felt the quiet of dead people leaving. The chairs are now tattered, the walls seem dim and the laughter and smiles that used to fill the Athletic Club have gone to a different place as those still yet breathing have forgotten the roots from which they came. Downstairs men bowled and upstairs people celebrated life and marriage. Boys met girls at wedding dances and they too got married in the halls of their parents. I slowly sipped my Jameson thinking about Jeannie and Joseph and all the other good people in this town. Nodded my head and wondered who was next.