The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks - Donald Harington [207]
But that gold chronometer wristwatch still has to be repaired. Once again Vernon returns to Harrison, and, after buying paperbacks on genealogy, cosmology, oriental philosophy, folklore, and my three previous novels, he timidly ventures into the watch repairman’s shop, and finds the watch repairman bent over the gold chronometer, delicately making adjustments. The watch repairman looks up and says, “Just a few more minutes, and I’m done with it. But I can’t let you have it. I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it.” Sorry, Vernon says. “Two thousand,” the watch repairman offers. It’s not for sale, Vernon tells him. “Three thousand, for God’s sake,” the watch repairman offers. It’s kind of a heirloom, Vernon points out, and has no price. “Four thousand? Five? Six? You name it,” says the watch repairman. Could I have my watch, please? Vernon requests. “Well, heck, just a minute,” the watch repairman says, and finishes his adjustments and closes the case.
The watch repairman will wind up the watch, and as he does so, time will change to the future tense. The watch repairman will say, “I will have to charge you three hundred and forty-seven dollars and fifty cents for parts and repairs.” Vernon will write him a check, then he will take the watch and go home. One day, he will show the watch to his friends, Day Whittacker and his wife or girlfriend or whoever she is. He will explain to them that if he puts on the watch he will become aware of us. Then he will put on the watch. “Howdy,” he will say to us. He will indicate the couple beside him and will ask us, “Is there anything you would like to say to them?”
“Just give them our regards,” I will reply. And Vernon will give them our regards, and his own, and go on home, where he will find Jelena waiting for him. At the sight of her, he will instantly close his eyes. She will ask, “Why are your eyes closed, Vernon?” He will reply, “Mark said he’d kill me if I ever laid eyes on ye again.” “Are you afraid of him?” she will ask. “I don’t care to git shot,” he will declare, “but man to man without a gun I’m not afraid of him.” “Open your eyes, Vernon,” she will request, “I want to tell you something.” He will point out, “I don’t hear with my eyes.” “Open your eyes, Vernon, or I will go away,” she tells him. That will be what he will want her to do, and he will keep his eyes closed, and she will go away. “You numbskull,” I will tell him, after she is gone, “she wanted to inform you that her husband Mark has taken their two sons and moved to California.” “Oh,” he will say, and will run after her, but will not be able to find her. She will not be at her house, which has a “For Sale” sign on the front of it (but nobody will ever buy it). “Where is she?” he will ask us, and we could, if we would, tell him, but we must let him find her by himself. He will look all over Stay More, he will look all over this book, examining it page by page, picture by picture; he will call our attention, as if we would not know, to the architecture of the book itself: it will be architectural, and he will analyze the architecture of it, showing how the base is heavier, the upper part lighter, and how the roof is pitched, and we will be over the ridge, on the downslope of the roof. He will call our attention to something else that we will not have noticed: that there is a typographical error on page 393, a spelling error on page 144, a grammatical error on page 84 and a historical error on page 84. He will also demonstrate something else that we will not have been aware of: that the initials of the title of the book, The Architecture of the Arkansas Ozarks, form the acronym TAOTAO, which, he will explain, means “double Tao,” or bigeminal Tao, and for those of us who will not have known, he will point out that “Tao” means “the Way” or “the Path” and refers to a philosophy of life which may be cryptic or paradoxical but seeks to understand the basic order and creativity underlying all architecture and personality and life.
We will find this all very illuminating,