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They were going to FortLauderdale,Florida. There were six of them, Three boys and threegirls, and they got on the bus at 34th Street, carring sandwichesand wine in paper bags.They were dreaming of golden beaches andtides of the sea as the gray ,cold spring of New York vanishedbehind them.Vingo was on the bus form thebeginning.
As the bus passed through NewJersery,they began to notice that Vingo never moved. He sat in front of theyoung people, his dusty face masking his age, dressed in a plainbrown suit that did not fit him. His fingers were stained fromcigarettes and he chewed the inside of his lip a lot. He sat incomplete silence.
Deep into the night, the bus pulled intoa Howard Johnsons restaurant and everybody got off the bus exceptVingo. The young people began to wonder about him, trying toimagine his life; perhaps he was a sea captain; maybe he had runaway from his wife; he could be an old soldier going home. Whenthey went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him andintroduced herself.
"Were going to Florida," the girl saidbrightly." you going that far?"
"I dont know," Vingosaid.
"Ive never been there," she said."I hearits beautiful."
"It is," he said quietly,as ifremembering something he had tried to forget.
"You Live there?"
"I was there in theNavy,Jacksonville."
"Want some wine?" she said. He smiled andtook a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and retreated againinto his silence. After a while, she wen back to the others asVingo noded in sleep.
In the morning they awoke ourside antherHoward Johnsons and this time Vingo went in. The girl insistedthat he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee andsmoked nervously, and the young people chattered about sleeping onbeaches. When they went back on the bus , the girl sat with Vingoagain. After a while, slowly and painfully, he began to tell hisstory. He had been in jail in New York for last four years, and nowhe was going home.
"Are you married?"
"I dont know."
"You dont know?" shesaid.
"Well,when I was in jail I wrote to mywife. I said, Martha, I understand if you cant stay married tome.I said I was gonna be away a long time, and that if shecouldnt stand it, if the kids kept askin questions, if it hurther too much, well, she could just forget me. Get a new guy shesa wonderful woman, really something and forget about me. I toldher she didnt have to write me or nothing, and she didnt. Not forthree and a half years."
"And youre going home now,notknowing?"
"Yeah," he said shyly. "Well, last week,when I was sure the parole was coming through I wrote her.I toldher that if she had a new guy, I understood. But ,if she didnt, ifshe would take me back shou should let me know. We used to live inthis town, Brunswick,and theres a great big oak tree just as youcome into town. I told her if she would take me back, she shouldput a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I would get off and comehome. If she didnt want me, forget it; no handkerchief and Idkeep going on through."
"Wow," the girl said."Wow."
She told the others, and soon all of themwere in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at thepictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. Now theywere 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over windowseats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oaktree. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex consmask, as if fortifying him self against still anotherdisappointment. Then it was ten miles, and then five, and the busbecame very quiet.
Then suddenly all of the young peoplewere up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying,doing small dances, shaking clenched fists in triumph andexaltation.All except Vingo.
Vingo sat there stunned, looking at theoak tree, It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs, 20 of them, 30of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner ofwelcome, blowing and billowing in the wind. As the young peopleshouted, the old con slowly rose from his seat, holding himselftightly, and made his way to the front of the bus to gohome.
*The Writer PETE HAMILL1935
Pete Hamill is a well known journalistwhose work appears in several daily newspapers in the US. The storyhe tells here was used in the song"Tie a Yellow Ribbon To The OldOak Tree" This song first became very popular in the US in themid 1970s. Then, during the period from Nov. 1979 to Jan. 1981, thesony became a national symbol for Americans to welcome the releaseof the fifty two men and women held hostage in Iran.Yellow ribbonscame out again during Americas participation in Operation DesertStorm in the Middle East during 1991.
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