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hour or so, and say, “Look sharp, boys. The best men in Monroe
come through this door.”
There was one more component to their job besides polish-
ing shoes. Denny Brown and Abraham Ryan were also in
charge of emptying a small tin ashtray that was kept on a
wooden table in one corner of the locker room. Nobody ever sat
at this table. Denny did not know why the table was there at all,
other than to hold the tin ashtray. An average of four cigarette
butts a day collected in that ashtray. Still, since the table was just out of their line of vision, Denny and Abraham sometimes
forgot to empty it. Mr. Deering would look in on them and
scold them.
“Look sharp now,” Mr. Deering would say. “It’s your job to
keep this place looking sharp, boys.”
When Denny described his work at the Monroe Country
Club to his mother, she shook her head. She said, “That is ex-
actly the kind of job that people in communist countries have.”
Then she laughed. Denny laughed, too.
Although he did not really know what she meant.
Denny Brown (at age fifteen) did not know how he had sud-
denly come to be Russell Kalesky’s best friend. He did not know
how he had suddenly come to be Paulette Kalesky’s boyfriend.
Both events had occurred within a month of graduation from
tenth grade.
Russell Kalesky and Paulette Kalesky were brother and sister,
and they were neighbors of Denny’s. As a little kid, Denny
Brown had been bullied senseless by Russell Kalesky. Russell
was a year older than Denny. Not a big child, but a mean
one. These were some of Russell’s favorite games — playing
with fire in Denny’s house, throwing eggs at Denny, treating
Denny’s pets roughly, and stealing Denny’s toys to tuck behind
the wheels of parked cars. Also, Russell Kalesky passionately
enjoyed punching Denny in the stomach.
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However, during Denny Brown’s sixteenth summer, he sud-
denly became Russell Kalesky’s best friend. He did not know
how this had happened. He knew when it happened, though. It
happened the day after Russell Kalesky bought himself a car,
which cost $150. The car was a huge black eight-cylinder Ford
sedan, which actually did not run at all. The previous owner of
the Ford — an amateur stock car mechanic — happily towed
the car over to the Kaleskys’ driveway and dropped it there
for Russell “to work on.” Denny Brown happened to be walk-
ing past the Kalesky house on the morning when Russell be-
gan working on the Ford, and Russell said, “Hey, man. Check
it out.”
Russell had the hood up and was polishing the engine with a
rag. Denny Brown came over nervously, but trying not to look
nervous. He watched for a while. Russell finally said, “There’s
another rag, man. You want to help?”
So Denny Brown took up a rag and started polishing Russell
Kalesky’s car engine. It was an enormous engine. Big enough
for two polishers.
“Excellent, right?” Russell Kalesky said.
“Excellent,” Denny Brown agreed.
After that, Russell started coming around to the Browns’
place every morning, asking for Denny.
“Hey, man,” he’d say, “want to work on the car today?”
“Excellent,” Denny would say.
Denny Brown did not know a single thing about cars. To be
honest, neither did Russell. Together, they would unscrew parts
and peer at them. They would crawl underneath the car and
tap on things with wrenches. They could pass hours this way.
Denny would try to start the engine while Russell leaned over
the hood, head cocked, listening. Listening hard. They never
had the first idea what they were looking at or listening for.
During rest breaks, they would sit in the front seat of the
Ford with the doors open, one foot inside and one foot flat on
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The Many Things That Denny Brown Did Not Know
the driveway. Heads back, eyes half shut. The only part of the
Ford that actually worked was the radio, and Russell would find
a station and turn it up. They would relax. The other guys in
the neighborhood would come around, riding their bikes up to
the Kaleskys’ house and dropping their bikes into the Kaleskys’
yard. Then the neighborhood guys would lean against Russell
Kalesky’s Ford, arms folded, listening to the radio. Just hang-
ing out.
Occasionally, Russell would say, “Excellent, right?”
“Excellent,” the guys would all agree.
They would listen to the radio like that until Russell said,
“That’s it. Back to work.”
Then all the guys in the neighborhood would have to get on
their bikes and ride away.
“Stick around, Dennis,” Russell would say.
Denny Brown did not know how he had suddenly come to be
Russell Kalesky’s best friend. He did not know how common it
is, in fact, for bullies to eventually befriend their victims. He was not yet completely sure that he would never be punched in the
stomach again. Denny simply had no idea how happy it made
Russell to have him come over in the mornings and work on the
Ford. Denny did not know that this was the happiest thing in
Russell’s life.
Denny Brown also did not know that Russell Kalesky’s older
brother, Peter Kalesky, made fun of Russell’s car every single
time he came home for dinner. Peter Kalesky owned a hand-
some Chevrolet truck. Peter was twenty years old and lived in
his own apartment on the other side of Monroe. Unfortunately,
Peter came home for dinner often. Denny Brown did not know
anything about Peter’s attacks on Russell.
“You know what Ford stands for?” Peter would say. “It stands
for ‘Fix or Repair Daily.’
“You know what Ford stands for?” Peter would say. “It stands
for ‘Found on Road Dead.’
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p i l g r i m s
“You know what Ford stands for?” Peter would say. “It stands
for ‘Found Out Russell’s Dumb.’
“You know why they have rear-window defrost features in
Fords?” Peter would say. “To keep your hands warm while you’re
pushing your car up a fucking hill.”
Russell Kalesky put himself to sleep every night with dreams
of running his brother Peter over with his shiny Ford. Nobody
knew about this. It was Russell’s secret comfort. He would
dream of driving over Peter, dropping the transmission into
reverse, and driving over Peter again. Back and forth, back and
forth, back and forth. In his dreams, the car made a gentle thud
every time it ran over Peter’s body. And it was that sweet thud
thud thud sound that would finally send Russell off to sleep.
In the morning, Russell Kalesky would wake up and go over
to Denny Brown’s house.
“Want to work on the car, man?” he’d ask.
�
�Excellent,” Denny Brown would say. (Still not knowing —
never knowing — why he had been asked.)
As for Paulette Kalesky, she was Russell’s older sister. She was
eighteen years old. She was the best baby sitter in Monroe
County, and she worked constantly, tending to the children of
a dozen different families in the neighborhood. Paulette was
short, brunette, with large breasts and a careful, neat mouth.
She had lovely skin. She walked up and down the streets of
the neighborhood, pushing other people’s children in carriages,
with more children following her on tricycles. She gave piggy-
back rides and supervised ice cream cones. She carried Band-
Aids and Kleenex in her purse, just like a real mother. The
Kaleskys were not the best family in Monroe County, but peo-
ple liked and trusted Paulette. She was very much in demand as
a baby sitter.
At the end of June, Denny Brown was invited over to the
Kaleskys’ house for dinner. It was Russell Kalesky’s birthday.
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The Many Things That Denny Brown Did Not Know
Mrs. Kalesky made spaghetti. Everybody was there. Peter Ka-
lesky had driven over from his apartment across town, and
Paulette Kalesky had taken a rare night off from baby-sitting.
Denny Brown was the only nonfamily member at the party.
He was seated across the table from Russell, wedged between
Paulette Kalesky and Mr. Kalesky. Russell started to open his
birthday gifts and Paulette just went ahead and put her hand on
Denny’s leg, hidden under the table. Denny and Paulette had
only spoken to each other once before this incident. The hand
on the leg made no sense. Nevertheless, Denny Brown (age
fifteen) slid his hand under the table and put it on top of the
hand of Paulette Kalesky (age eighteen). He squeezed her hand.
He did not know where he had learned to do that.
Over the course of that summer, Paulette Kalesky and Denny
Brown developed a system. She would let him know where she
was baby-sitting that night, and he would ride his bicycle over
and visit her after eight o’clock, once she had efficiently put the
children to bed. Alone together, Denny Brown and Paulette
Kalesky had hot, hot sex. Incredible sex. He did not know how
or why this system had been established, but there it was. They
were terrifically secretive. Nobody knew anything about Denny
and Paulette. But there it was. Hot sex. Out of nowhere.
At age fifteen, there was so much that Denny Brown did not
know about Paulette Kalesky. She had great big breasts. He
knew that, but he only knew it by discreet observation. Hot sex
notwithstanding, Paulette would never let him see or touch her
chest. She kept her shirt on all the time. Denny did not know
why. The fact was, Paulette had gotten her breasts in fifth grade.
Way too early, way too big. Her brothers, Peter and Russell, had
obviously made huge fun of her about it, as did her schoolmates.
There was a period during sixth grade when she was getting so
regularly mocked that she would cry every morning and beg her
parents not to make her go to school.
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Paulette’s father had told her, “Big breasts are nice, and some-
day you will be happy to have them. In the meantime, you’ll just
have to be ridiculed.”
Paulette continued to get ridiculed throughout high school,
with a new twist: some girls in her class were now jealous of her.
There was one group, in particular, who called her Paulette the
Toilet or Paulette the Slut. But it was not that she was taking
anybody’s boyfriends. Not by any measure. Denny Brown was
her first boyfriend, her first kiss. By that time, she was already
finished with high school.
Denny did not know why Paulette Kalesky suddenly liked
him any more than he knew why Russell Kalesky suddenly
liked him. He had no idea what this was all about.
There was, in truth, a very good explanation for Paulette’s
attraction to Denny, but it was a secret. Denny Brown would
never know about it. Denny Brown would never know that
Paulette Kalesky had been a baby sitter for several months in a
home where Denny’s own father was a visiting nurse. It was in
the home of an affluent local family named Hart. Mrs. Hart
had a new baby in the very same year that Mr. Hart’s father was
dying of cancer. In the same house, therefore, the Harts had to
tend to a colicky baby girl and an eighty-year-old senile man
with a rotting liver. Paulette Kalesky was hired to care for the
baby. Mr. Brown was hired to care for the old man. Paulette and
Mr. Brown did not spend a lot of personal time together during
these months, but their paths did cross in the Harts’ house,
usually in the kitchen, where Paulette would be making up a
bottle while Mr. Brown would be puréeing carrots.
“Do you want a cup of tea?” Mr. Brown would ask Paulette.
“Maybe a glass of water? You look tired.”
“No, thank you,” Paulette would say, who was shy of an adult
treating her as if she herself were an adult.
“You’re doing a very good job,” Mr. Brown once told Paulette.
“Mrs. Hart would be lost without you.”
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The Many Things That Denny Brown Did Not Know
Paulette thought that Mr. Brown did a good job, too, the way
cleaned the sickroom since taking over the role of the primary
visiting nurse. Mr. Brown had brought a large, cheerful calendar
into the sickroom, which he hung right across from Mr. Hart’s
bed. He’d also brought in a clock with bright hands, which he
propped where the patient could see it. He spoke to old Mr.
Hart in the most clear and specific ways, using direct references
to time and location. He gave out every possible piece of infor-
mation, always trying to keep the vanishing Mr. Hart alerted to
the world.
“My name is Fred Brown,” Mr. Brown would say, at the
beginning of every shift. “I am the nurse who takes care of you.
I’m going to be here with you for eight hours. Your oldest son,
Anthony, hired me. You are staying in Anthony’s house.”
Throughout the day, Mr. Brown would explain his every
move this clearly. And at the end of a typical day, he would say,
“Good night, Mr. Hart. It is seven in the evening, and time for
me to go home. I will come by to help you again on Wednesday,
October fourteenth, at eleven in the morning.”
Paulette Kalesky thought that Mr. Brown was a wonderful
person and a wonderful nurse. She thought he was the nicest
man she had ever met, and she secretly fell in love with him.
Eventually old Mr. Hart died of liver cancer, of course. Mr.
Brown moved on to another case, so Paulette Kalesky did not
see him anymore, except in brief glimpses around the neigh-
borhood. But then, suddenly, Denny Brown started hanging
around her house, working on her little brother
Russell’s Ford.
“Your dad is Fred Brown, isn’t he?” Paulette asked Denny,
way back in June. It was the first time they had ever spoken. In
fact, it would be the only time they spoke before the night that
Paulette put her hand on Denny’s leg. Denny would never know
why she had asked this particular question.
“Sure,” said Denny. “He’s my dad.”
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Paulette did not think that Denny looked like his father at
all. Nonetheless, she very much hoped that he might grow up to
be like his father. Somehow, in some manner. So she secretly fell
in love with Denny Brown, for that reason. With that hope.
Naturally, Denny Brown did not know anything about any
of this.
As an adult, Denny Brown would look back on his sixteenth
summer and think that it was a wonder he was even allowed to
leave the house. He would realize how woefully uninformed he
was, how woefully unprepared. There was so much information
that Denny Brown was missing at age fifteen. Any of it would
have helped him. No matter how minor. Later in life, Denny
would believe that he had been sent out there knowing nothing.
Nobody ever told him anything about anything. He did not
know what people did with their lives or what they wanted or
regretted. He did not know why people got married or chose
jobs or chose friends or hid their breasts. He did not know
whether he was good at anything or how to find out. Everybody
just let him walk around without knowing a thing.
His education was so incomplete. Denny Brown (at age fif-
teen) did not know the meaning of any of these words: ethereal,
prosaic, fluvial, paucity, gregarious, vitriol, umbrage, nihilism, or coup d ’état. These were among a list of words that he (and every other high school junior in the region) would be taught by the
end of the following school year. But he would have to go
through his sixteenth summer without having the use of any of
those words.
Denny Brown did not know about Euclid or mitosis or
Beethoven’s deafness, either, but the Monroe County Board of
Education was all geared up to teach him those things as well,
come September.
And another thing Denny Brown knew nothing about was
the very name of his town. What did “Monroe” even mean? He
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had somehow been allowed to pass through ten grades of Mon-