June 29, 1991: Bumper Crop, Part 2

May 22, 2008 - By Roger D.

. February 22, 1991: Bumper Crop, Part 1
. June 29, 1991: Bumper Crop, Part 2
. February 26, 1993: Bumper Crop, Part 3
. December 5, 2008: Bumper Crop is now live…

Thanks to everyone for the feedback on “Bumper Crop,” the short script I wrote back in 1991 for my friend Bill Waxler to direct. The story is about an older man who awakens from a dream that shines a new light on a long-held misconception which had affected him deeply throughout his life. Finally understanding that he was not responsible for his brother’s accident long ago, his awakening represents a new lease on life.

On Saturday, June 29, 1991, a really great group of people came together at a little, vacant, roadside gas station in Sanford, Florida, to begin shooting the film. Little did I know that, later that day, while we were trying to get our shots, my own brother would suffer his own life-changing accident, after diving into a lake in our hometown of Greenville, Illinois.

It was about 1:30 AM on Sunday when my mother called with the news which led from one thing to the next, and in those hours, I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to talk to Scott, my one and only brother, again.

By Monday, I was at the hospital and hearing the dark forecast – never walk again, life hanging on by a thread. Happily, my big brother survived all that, and though he doesn’t walk, he stands above most people I know as an amazingly resourceful, industrious, upbeat person who, among many other things, is a pillar of my family and the town of Greenville.

On July 1 of 1991, though, I had a rough night trying to sleep in a hospital waiting room. I had Spalding Gray’s “Swimming to Cambodia” to read, and for my therapy, I wrote this poem, which was later published in an artzine called 24-7.

John Wayne Dies Again
by Roger Darnell

A larger-than-life figure steps from the lights
into heaven’s shadowy smoking area.
FLICK! the metal clicks open to bare
the wick — flint scrapes — FIRE
illuminates the deep lines of the Duke.
The fire alights upon the fine tobacco — dances
an orange-red tap-dance in his eyes.
CLICK! The lighter disappears.
He looks on.

A couple has joined friends high atop
a boathouse. He is a champion among men —
she his equal opposite. A live-wire dances
dangerously between them: a glint in her
eye which he catches, which says she
doesn’t believe him.
The Duke pulls long and hard …
smoke swirls around his head.

It’s a game the two play. He maintains
control by streaming constant effluent her
way … teasing. She teases back. He pretends
to be entertained, but quietly seethes. She doesn’t
know him as well as she thinks! — can’t have
his control!
The Duke pulls long and hard …
red veins surge in his squinting eyes.

She breaks eye contact, turns to the friend.
She acts like she’s not even thinking about me,
he tells himself. She knows she’s always
been wrong before. He JUMPS a bit in his
chair. Her eyes SPIN to find him — just
teasing her again. She knits her eyebrows,
turns back to the meaningless conversation.
The Duke pulls long and hard —
smoking cherry burning hardened fingers.

BOOM! he launches. Feet measure, place,
push, to the railing, momentum top-heavy
and no-doubt sailing from the height toward
lake’s small chops. My God! She’ll laugh —
she’ll know I’m her DANGEROUS man —
I WIN! But look at that water, man!
Dive shallow — pull up!
The Duke pinches the butt off, smashes
the burning part into the charred floor.

Meanwhile, the orange-red flickering
in the eyes dies out. Nevermore,
perhaps, will the crushed bone, the
wasted nerve-center burn his fingers.
John Wayne dies again.