The Iowa Review Volume 27 Issue 3 Winter 1997 This Is Our Song for Today Lolita Hernandez Follow this and additional works at: http://ir.uiowa.edu/iowareview Part of the Creative Writing Commons Recommended Citation Hernandez, Lolita. "This Is Our Song for Today." The Iowa Review 27.3 (1997): 137-145. Web. Available at: http://ir.uiowa.edu/iowareview/vol27/iss3/24 This Contents is brought to you for free and open access by Iowa Research Online. It has been accepted for inclusion in The Iowa Review by an authorized administrator of Iowa Research Online. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Article 24 Lolita Hernandez This Is Our for Song Today Years of solitude had taught him that in one's memory, all days tend to be the same, but that there is not a day, not even in jail or in the hospital, which does not bring surprises, which is not a translucent network of minimal surprises. ?from The Waiting, Jorge Luis Borges FIREFLY engine for the day arrived in front of the man whose was to put the water pump and front cover on it, he opened his job as the great Mississippi as wide in the days before debris River mouth narrowed its flow and out spilled his tenor's tongue in song: Firefly, ooh When the first ooh firefly. Clear light tonight. With over his job, dangling your cheekbones and his like rain drops on an emerald leaf. Shine at aimed the network of air hoses goatee he crinkled the his into and mellow squeezed could help eyes skin over his high a thin, wavy line as if those the moon and stars song. Assist chocolate propel his in helping us to ease our minds. A Temptations song he heard on the radio on the way to work followed him from the Clark Street parking lot and facial escorted contortions him to his station on motor line number one. The song settled they stretched then escaped through his arms the first time to place a front plate cover on an engine. The song curved his body a microphone: over the creeping as if caressing engine Firefly ooh ooh one his in his shoulders With direction, swaying in firefly. hips swiveling another, he eased a cover onto each engine. Thuupp. Yeah. Golden light in his chest of serenity. He was so absorbed notes that he didn't the song's mellifluous with enter from his mouth and the linkage of the conveyor slip each time he stepped up to an engine. They snaked to the end of the of trash the surface, and clung to the oily mixture line, rolled under at the head of and garbage that travelled the conveyor. They resurfaced notice them the line for the return trip to his water pump job. At the rate of eighty 137 University of Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve, and extend access to The Iowa Review ® www.jstor.org contacts block mal an engine of piston line was with clank, clank, clank, an hour, the entire half-city by mid-morning warm like grease. Instead of the nor running the line flowed with a phlump, phlump, phlump. hmmmm, phlump. Hmmmm, hmmmm, phlump. Firefly. Hmmmm, His job was located just after the mid-section of the line, past the frantic team of eight noisy young men who installed pistons. He used to be elbow to elbow with them in the middle of the pistons until two the cover job opened. When prior, when hear himself think. He hummed blues couldn't weeks that he didn't to know need words so he worked pistons he so low and deep songs was he saying to himself. He what to block out the environ that he managed deep ment around him. He erased the cussing, the fighting, the drinking. to in from his twelve years at After sweaty job heavy job shuffling now at thirty he had landed in a spot where low conversa Cadillac, went himself inside and he could wear jeans to work. designer the densely-peopled piston section at the head of the line. He was now in the middle of nothing of an as but small talk, punctuated by the blips, braaps and wiiirngs sortment air guns and the incessant of bolt-tightening clank, clank, of human clank of the conveyor. At the end of the line the murmur tional buzzing predominated was a world away from He conversation came with Hmmmm, chaos the metallic hmmmm, phlump. Hmmmm, around the timing themselves the cam engine caressed lobes, with the front once sleepy, seemed they contented and be the crank notes hmmmm, phlump. Musical over slithered and around chain, throws before engines the road. He looked of the women who he were sealed destined him around them in the to hum and and saw the worked nearby. Their hands to air guns as if in a dream. trays to engines man at The engine the end of the line leaned against his empty repair at each healthy with relief that passed in front bench, nodding engine of him. The man on the last job lifted each engine from the line with the veyor To to float of production sounds cover. Those reached smiles of noise. part of the assembly wound purr blended the transfer destined its turnover for line then waltzed it to its place on a hanging con two. a source of song "Firefly" became his body as if it he could have. He began moving of all the operations the line, even those at orchestrating the notes singer, he never knew power were a baton 138 from bolt of the its head; the remote he had control the notes through riding the links of conveyor. and spotted the quiet woman surveyed his territory never left the timing chains she installed.That's when He almost whose eyes he marched a few steps up the line to rouse her, bring her into his choir. He crooned as if she had your light naturally and she looked up in confusion been yanked from another world. He instructed her?Open your mouth a in circle and sing, Firefly, ooh ooh firefly. He demonstrated. perfect ?Shine song for today. I can teach it to you. She fixed her dark formed her mouth into an "o" but before a and obediently our Firefly?It's eyes on him note could the laughter of shyness overtook and quiet, unaware that it was fall out, to his job disgusted embarrassed by direct human contact. A few engines later he was relieved for first her. He nature her break. returned to be Before leaving last bar of song over his shoulder. J shouldn't have to lie to make it seem all right. The lady on the timing chain job began on her own soft humming. She smiled, amazed that a Monday morning a one line number could begin with song. one the line he threw PAJARILLO, PAJARILLO If she put her ear up to the line after each she could birds who rafters hear a faint chirp. At first trapped inside and flew became for looking engine passed her station, it was one of the many she thought a way was no way out up above were But there windows. low and straight, all the machinery the block but, then it would of course, still have in the cam department Even if it reached department. were so thick over When a bird was there who no the loading and had fallen hungry in the conveyor links through out the lines; only if a little bird knew what to one. of the entire in the There floor that out by flying about passing through or all the lines and washers in to worry as far as the head line, things to a little bird. could happen that it had escaped hoped it had become and weak the line and had been the found rarely at the edges could figure longer seen everyone dock area, but knew into from high frantically underneath. carried She away by the that at figured pit at the of summer when the cleaners changeover, beginning see a bushel or removed under the line, they must the sludge build-up two of dead oily birds. every year 139 She from looked time up every real birds a chirp, Seeing none, it was thinking she suspected she heard above her. an echo that the flying from the spirits of the birds whose bodies dropped off the at her section because the sludge had lost its hold on them. arose chirps conveyor They were calling out else heard one to her. to sing to them in the line. She began a answer tienes bonitos and bird would softly pajarillo, pajarillo; que ojos back with a chirp. Sometimes she jiggled her timing chain over the line because she thought the jingling sounded like their muffled chirping. No chirps L?stima que tengas due?o. She worked her eight hours with her head bowed and leaning into the line not to miss any chirps. For this reason she had developed few one came to visit her where in the factory. No friends she worked because However, she gave the appearance didn't her co-workers of being consider a loner her or afraid arrogant of people. because her she was (even when or getting a cup of coffee to the bathroom the line walking from the machine) made her look humble. Many of them realized that was she just plain shy and also that she didn't speak much English. Her stooped, away from rounded smile, when and toothy. She had the she cocked learned in her home before shoulders the town her and her bowed head head to respond song from her mother Mexico. of Agualeguas, same few words to a greeting, was wide who died many years Her mother had sung the dishes or especially (nada mas) when washing when making the tortillitas. Pajarillo, pajarillo. Que bonitos ojos tienes. never tired of singing L?stima que tengas due?o. Her mother the same over was a now it is the words and over, but that good thing because she can remember. She had almost only song of her mother's about it until the first time she heard a chirp in the line. TURN An forgotten ME ROUND engine block fell off the line one hour before lunch. It jumped off the light blue, oil-stained stand on the conveyor; it thumpa, thumpa, for it by the broadcast thumpa'd itself from the exact spot programmed in it its the in front of it from between block way system; bugalooed that was scheduled for a brown 140 Sedan for a green Brougham and the one behind it, slated It tumbled onto the wooden of de Ville. floorboard as if refusing section that sweet yellow the piston for it across the street in final assembly. Eldorado waiting The instant before it began its fall from the line all eight of the men the even who side of on the block: the installers of even pistons converged on one side, the odds on the other. Some buzzed indistinct installed pistons and guffawing from the cluster which be emerged cackling, snorting, one a to Then in fluid sound like the motion, gan opera. barnyard shouted: heave ho, muthafucka and the Someone group reeled backwards. block flew off the stand. The way considerably top corners. any block to escape All blocks sat on it would have to wiggle conveyor, the specially constructed stand that cradled its rode upside down on line number one in order the could lean against one and it wouldn't piston installation.You turn it was tight and there were four You could the crank when budge. or five pistons in the block and it would stay solid on the conveyor. You or a hammer or a piston could take a big torque wrench tray or any move. it against the block and it wouldn't thing and knock on line one, relatively A block was light weight It emerged speaking. to facilitate hollow for from the washer the crank, at the head of the line: a scooped out section a tunnel for the cam, eight empty cylinders for the pis an on to meet It became its way down the line the crank, engine water crank oil and pump, pump pan. By timing chain, pulley, pistons, to receive the end of the line, a block was an engine, the ready plumb parts on lines two and three. ing and electrical a block into the realm of engine crossed after the crank Actually, tons. and pistons were yellow Eldorado pistons engine, This in place. At the moment the block scheduled for the on a it had left its stand the conveyor, crank and four in it. It was caught in the middle of its transformation, half half block. it happened. First its rear lifted to the left, then the front followed suit and shifted. When the front shifted as it did, is how right bank the engine block began a tumble that would put the front face down straight up in the air. the same moment that the engine block touched the side of the on the oil pan line in the first stages of tumble, the woman tightening on to the last station the line, threw her grey head job, the second arms and back, closed her baby blue eyes, lifted her flabby, pale white and the left bank At 141 belted out in a voice as loud turn me turn nobody round, me as a backfire, and definite turn round, me Ain't gonna let round. It only seemed like her voice of the rang out in accompaniment at all of events in the piston block's descent. But she had no knowledge area. Her station was far away so that she could barely see the enough saw her head bob back and forth in time to group there; they neither nor heard her militant tune. In vain the previous the melody day she a one woman had conducted of work on protest against redistribution a extra An the line. stud had trickled down from station higher up and on her job. An agreement over union and management between before had doomed her struggle, but she continued it with song was on the watchful of the foreman who her eye camping job, to intimidate her into silence. He didn't want her to rile the landed a week under hoping others. I'm gonna job. Next the keep on walkin, keep on talkin, til they change this goddam from the stand in a one disengaged completely an For instant the engine was right side up, degree flip. precariously supported by the edge of the line and a engine hundred-eighty front forward to it. supply tray of rod nuts attached over All weekend long she had brooded let gonna turn nobody me Any Friday afternoon, But reefer and bourbon. lost in the relentless body-bumping-body, ness of the piston It was the changes on her job. Ain't round. that engine could have been the victim of reasons that Monday it fell for morning eight clicking, sweating, line. clacking, spitting clanking, that seemed whirring, buzzing, to be the real busi in its final that the stage of falling engine was woman in who installed the timing chain at a station almost exactly In the center of the line, also heard the strains of melodic resistance. when the in her right the cacophony left ear there was music, ton area. Through her body the two unrelated phenomena So just at the moment that the engine flipped another her eighty degrees, supported Turn me bumped it, and landed round, turn me the edge against on the floorboard, round, turn me from the pis one. became one-hundred of the tray that had briefly the timing chain lady heard round. a hole in the floor the engine crashed, BOODOOM, creating six piston installer normally stood. Two men picked board where number Then 142 it singing heave ho. the engine with their hands and reloaded a tray of The chain lady looked timing straight ahead at pistons on floor overhead and from the second the wondered conveyor coming up see if they would an engine that day. To the foreman who was completely inside the of singing lady argued with six installer was the fallen engine. To her right, number in an effort to load his piston the hole in the floorboard for designated the brown JUMBIE JAMBOREE The woman who Sedan her left the unaware of around dancing into the engine de Ville. the piston the panorama rings observed of craziness the line from her subassembly station. She up and down we as said to herself Oui foote she lifted making real bacchanal here today number to check one checked the tray in front of her. She twirled its rings for damage and strained to hear the tinny tinkling of the rings in their grooves. They sounded light and airy next to the thump from piston slapping ing and all the jumping up and down from her. She was always back to back bottom the thin young men behind to bottom with the whole crew as she shuffled from end to end of her piston That short stretch didn't give her enough exercise eight-foot to shake zone. off the bowls of pelau she brought for lunch each day. So she grew big and and every day found say in her native Trinidad, bufootoo, as they would some to with slim her dancing cheek cheek the young man shooting same pistons by her side not lap like three she had wide the Oui foote. These days her arms hung to her heart, and her breasts nestled in her she left back home when she came to this checked. close children to get a job so she could feed them because her husband had country left her and gone to another island. She told some of her co-workers? He went to Cuba. At these they said, but who knows. Men men run want. travel however like these up and days Just they foolish young a down this line when they get little bit of brown juice in them. It wasn't bourbon least that's what that possessed had finished waking that morning before lunch, before the week up, even though an engine jumped off the line as if it already had juice and spark in it. Before long she found herself getting into the swing of things. This is one jumbie jambo ree going on here. And she began singing an old calypso song, her mother's favorite. Back them to back, belly to belly, I don't give a damn, I done dead already. 143 the trays over on, nuh boys, punch it up, punch it up. She danced on the main to their destination line. She could feel conveyor Come roller up her trays traveling her pummeling her bones in time to the bouncing from rattling section the behind arms and the noise as if she were from the the the one big conga and the trays piston vibrating rhythms. one piston in. Pshoop, number Pshoop, number four piston in. Pshoop number three piston in. Oui foote. Back to back, belly to belly, in a jumbie jamboree. Since she had been at the plant, she had never seen such a commo drum tion. It was as if all of them, the torque-checkers, were loaded up with that whole the crank man, section, those even she?it was a stinging Trinidad to relieve the their bodies cow-itch, shooting pistons, as if all of them plant, to dig to It seemed and had itching. deep into all parts of and scratched until inside her that they had scratched they reached was off of them: tiredness their souls and everything everything falling from from the wiiirng of the air the pistons, tiredness wiiirng wiiirng on from someone the line and tiredness always banging yelling guns, wake up muthafuckas. She wondered why the foreman was nowhere to be seen when the us. Let him keep his tail engine fell off the line but told herself Better for wherever he is. And she shuffled her feet and swung her big bottom right to left, back to back, belly to belly, shaking off the lonely days without her for the sight of bright red anthuriums growing her and the salt breeze of the Mayaro hitting ground straight a face. I don't give damn, I done dead already. No matter what ached in any of them, in her opinion, that morning was the most It in the history of Cadillac installation. piston exciting children and out the ache of an engine the two had fallen off the line. When the engine back and front, said heave ho and swung it installers grabbed onto its stand, the whole section broke out in raucous applause. The was the first time two low and swept their bowed for replacing the engine responsible to the floor as if they were courtiers. Come on, boys, bellowed She let us send this engine down the line infine style and they all joined her for so loud and strong they a chorus of jumbie jamboree. Their voices were arms a cycle. They didn't seem to care one speed of the line half was headed out of their section on its the renegade engine to the cam, timing chain and front cover stations. the upped bit because way 144 Come on, nuh boys, punch it up, punch it up. Let them all know we here and a piston from don't give a damn because we done dead already. She grabbed it her checking tray and held it by both hands above her head, rocking as were in review if she the back and forth stand the Savannah passing on opening Port of Spain, Trinidad. Oui foote. Let me day of Carnival, hear the chorus. Back to back belly to belly. We don't give a damn, we done dead already, we done dead already, we done dead already. 145
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