Sorry, article not available right now.
January 2009
Mondongo Soup
by John Cannizzo, GreenTeam Director, HSNY
A. noticed the online sex service “Vegas Entertainment Network” on her Amex statement. After mild threats the customer service rep came back with the name of the user -- his real name.
On the way back from the road test – the third one -- school is still going well; Wave Hill hired him – a kid from the neighborhood. Everything was O.K. Boston Road looked almost pretty. Christmas lights, little converted bungalows. You could hardly make out the bared windows. He sits in the passenger seat.
“I passed.” The road test evaluation tenderly held in his hand -- “passed." We walk into the restaurant.
“Passed.”
He failed twice. A dozen men fill the restaurant: pitted floor; overflowing sink; over-loaded outlet; newspapers. Mondongo: soup of disappointment; now soup of victory.
He kisses the evaluation.
“What did you think you were doing man?”
Conceited best schoolboy twinkle turns to hard stare peculiar to the street, the Amex statement in my hand.
“None of your business old man.”
“Be civil”
“Shit!” he says pushing out of the booth not quickly enough to evade my stiff lunge. People are looking. The flimsy Amex statement floats to the floor.
“What’s that?”
“Should I report this to your P.O.? Pick it up.”
He slides into the booth ungracefully.
A cockroach crawls along the floor.
“Why did you do it?”
“What?” The cockiness gone.
“Why?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
We sit looking at each other. He gets up to go again, the limp xerox on the table between us.
“You’re going to talk to A.”
“No!”
“Yes! Fraud is a crime.”
“Talk to her about what?”
“Never mind that -- why?”
“Let me go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“Good let’s go.”
“You ain’t going to my house.”
“You made me look bad. I’m telling your father.” The waitress watches us. She takes her time. The soup steams.
“I’m hungry. You plan to let me eat?”
“Hungry?”
“Yea.”
“That’s good.”
“Why?”
“You want to end up in the jail again?”
His stomach grumbles.
“Eat.”
Anyone witnessing the two men eating - one old and grey, the other bronze and handsome - would say that they had not had a decent meal for some time. We ate drowning some inner need in tripe. The curious waitress brings water. He belches.
“Shit, this place is the best.”
“Don’t curse if you want to be taken seriously.”
“Can I go now?”
“No.”
“There was fear again surfacing out of a thick pond of soup: the look of fear -- enjoyable as dessert.
“Not until I hear it.”
He made to leave but thought better when he saw the xerox spread out on the spotted table. “I ain’t afraid.”
“You are. You’re not stupid. This will make it worse.” Now it wouldn’t be long till the tears came. “Stop crying, just tell me what happened. I’m not a cop, I’m not going to turn you in.”
I am John Cannizzo, the director of the internship program at The Horticultural Society of New York. In December one of our interns – the “he” in this story got into trouble. He had been with us ever since being released from Rikers Island where he had participated in HSNY’s horticulture program. Although we have had very good results overall – 12% of our interns end up being arrested for a serious crime during a 5 year period after entering our post release program as compared to 40 – 50% nationwide – still things can happen.
|
