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Haplessly Helpful

"You're not going home, you're going to HELP him," Aida warns, or... threatens rather. But I had understood her grandfather when he had asked and, besides, I am ready for some action.

I had arrived at this house 20 minutes ago. I had been searching for Aida to find out if she had fed Gina, the gimp dog kept in the attic at the Language Center. My search brought me to Aida's grandfather's girlfriend's house.

I knocked.

"Who is it?" I heard a jolly, old voice.

"It's Dennis."

"Ah, Dennis dear, come in. Come in, I'll warm up some soup."

"Oh no really, it's Ok, ah Jeez, I just needed to ask Aida... ah man, soup? Hey, why not?" Tactfully done.

It turns out Aida hadn't fed Gina. Her grandfather's girlfriend and she were sitting, eating, and waiting for the grandfather to arrive. He would be arriving shortly, back from a trip hauling potatoes around Armenia. He drives a big rig and has hands three-times the size of mine. When he arrives he and Aida will go feed Gina.

Having obtained the information I had come for I should have been on my way. But I was comfortable so I remained and when Aida's grandfather walked into the kitchen cold, haggard, and no doubt hungry - as I imagined Gina was feeling about now - I was suddenly Goldilocks, caught in his chair, eating his Borsch, drinking his Vodka.

Ok, I wasn't actually drinking his Vodka but he offered it to me as he settled down across from me, apparently undisturbed with my presence. I think I even noticed a tinge of delight in his eyes as he tossed down his first shot.

We sat talking for a while in a kitchen of red and light-blue decor. The situation was awkward, language, close quarters and all, but we were enjoying the warmth of the kitchen. At some point Aida left the room to fetch sardines from her grandfather's truck. The girlfriend, reminiscing, explained to me how a loaf of bread in the Soviet times was ten times cheaper than it is today. She told of how they once could afford to heat their entire house, rather than just one room. She told me she would sleep in the kitchen tonight because it is the one heated room.

The grandfather had brought with him 100 kilos of potatoes for his girlfriend. This will last her through the winter. The potatoes were sacked and strapped to the trailer of the rig out in front of the house and needed to be brought inside. This information confirmed my suspicions about that tinge of delight I saw in the grandfather's eyes. I was about to haul some potatoes.

"Dennis you'll help me bring in those potatoes, right?" The grandfather suggested more than asked as Aida reentered the kitchen with Kramer's gusto and a can of sardines. Are the sardines for Gina? I wondered but giddy with sudden purpose, I only replied, "Of course." I snatched my coat and rose.

"You're not going home, you're going to HELP him," Aida warns, or... threatens rather. But I had understood her grandfather when he had asked and, besides, I am ready for some action.

Now outside I see the potatoes on the trailer. This shouldn't be so bad . I know I can hop right up on the trailer, but he suggests I make my ascent from the front of the trailer where it is attached to the truck. I go for it. I scurry up onto where the trailer meets the truck and get stuck. I can't hop the loose gate of the trailer to get to the potatoes.

"Don't worry, it's strong, go over the gate," he tries to comfort me.

"I'm going... to go... by this way," I mumble as I slide around the side of the trailer gate.

I discover three bags of potatoes. There is one smaller one and two big ones. With no small amount of effort I drag the small one to the side of the trailer and basically drop it over the side. He didn't make much effort to catch it anyway. He snatches it up and tosses into the front seat of the truck. That leaves the two big bags.

Think of those things we call potato sacks, that we merrily hop around and race in. Now picture that huge sack filled with actual po-taaa-tooes . Who would've thought? Well that is what I am dealing with here. And Grandpa down on the street, I imagine, is tired and growing discouraged with his hapless helper.

With respect - the kind an older man renders a younger only after the completion of certain tasks - on the line, I manage to relocate the bags to the side of the trailer. He lets them drop again. I hop down, like I should have hopped up, and grab my side of the first bag to bring it into the house. I am beaming from my accomplishment and must appear frantic. But I'm doing great.

Ignoring warnings and backpedaling, I whack my head on a doorway built for Willow. I drop the bag and it tumbles past me down the stairs. Both of us, sort-of pleased by the outcome, follow the bag and retrieve it. We arrive at a shelf where we spread the potatoes out to dry. invigorating. Oh no! Your girlfriend won't be hungry this winter. No way! Not if this guy can help it.

We retrieve the next bag and this time, with experience on our side, toss it down the stairs. Together we shelve these potatoes with tremendous speed and accuracy.

When we are finished Aida's grandfather declares so and thanks me. He takes my hand in his hand and shakes it. We did a heck of a job. And the sight of the dirt on my hands with trails up my sleeves is intoxicating.

I say goodnight to Aida's grandfather's girlfriend, Aida's grandfather, and Aida as Aida and her grandfather climb into the truck. Aida's eyes are huge as she climbs. They pull away and I watch the rig drive off as I begin my walk home. They must have been distracted discussing how helpful I had been because they drove right by the Language Center's street without turning. And with me too mired in my own vanity to do anything about it, Gina goes hungry tonight.

Dennis Price

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