Renaissance Man - Part 1

Scene 16 _ Addo At Home

Scene 16 Rev B

Scene 16 “Addo at Home”

Addo Okoro – Torey Campbell’s best friend
Hola Okoro – Addo’s mother (math teacher at Darwin High School)
Kumi Okoro – Addo’s father (engineering professor at Eastwood Institute)
         Addo strolled the two blocks along Ferguson Street from the bus stop to his house enjoying the late August afternoon. The neighborhood seemed to be at peace. Three boys were playing stickball in the street, several girls were engaged in some pretty fancy jump rope, and two young men passed by him on roller skates. Ever present city street noises hummed in the background.
         City neighborhoods have names and reputations, sometimes as famous as the city itself. Drullins’ reputation as a poor neighborhood masks its complexity. There are degrees of ‘poor’ within Drullins, and the sub-neighborhoods are typically characterized by ethnicity. Addo’s home is a large single-family dwelling in one of those enclaves usually identified as ‘old money.’ In bygone days these houses had been homes for the city’s elite. Urban growth had encircled them with a ring of poverty — isolating them and forcing them into the category of poor. They became homes to educated, cultured people who could afford better, but were imprisoned by racial housing discrimination.
         The Okoro home was impressive in its setting. Two stories, a front porch, a modest front yard, a grass strip about ten feet wide on both sides, and a respectable back yard. The sidewalk along Ferguson Street was lined with old growth oak trees. In the world of our story and compared to Torey Campbell’s house this was a palace.
         As Addo approached his home, he took stock. The shiny black Oldsmobile 98 parked in front of his house told him his Dad was home.
         The Oldsmobile 98 was the full-size flagship model of Oldsmobile that was produced from 1940 until 1996. It was the division's top-of-the-line model, and shared its General Motors C-body platform with Buick and Cadillac. As the top-line Oldsmobile, the series had the most technologically advanced items available and the highest-grade interior and exterior trim.
         Kumi Okoro loved his ‘Olds 98’ and cared for it like it a museum piece. To him, his “Olds would never be old.”
         Addo jumped the two steps up to the porch. Mozart's Oboe Quartet in F Major drifted through the open front living room windows. Addo didn’t know Mozart from Scott Joplin. All he knew was that it was ‘Mom’s music,’ and when he heard it, she was home.
         The heavy oak door with it’s leaded-glass window was open. Addo knew that the back door and windows would be open too – letting the breeze through the whole first floor. "Hi Mom. Hi Dad," he greeted, letting the screen door bang closed behind him.
         Hola Okoro looked up from her work and greeted her son. "Hello Addo."
         Hola Okoro was a striking woman. She wore her kinky black hair short but not too short, and carefully coiffured. At just over five feet tall and under 120 pounds, she was the definition of petite. Her ebony skin and bright red lipstick provided the ideal setting for the perfect white teeth that glistened when she smiled. In her presence, you knew you were with someone special.
         "Hey Son," Kumi added.
         Kumi was always the professor. His natty dressing habits carried over to casual Saturday. On this warm August afternoon, a crisp white short-sleeve sport shirt with a button-down collar over Seersucker slacks gave the picture of classic relaxation. An elastic stretch webbing casual belt and woven slip-on loafers completed the look. Of course, no professor would be complete without his pipe. Today Kumi was smoking his ‘Fish Tail’ a prized member of his collection of Amorelli smoking pipes.
         "How did your shopping trip work out?" Hola asked, putting aside her papers, removing her glasses, and focusing on Addo.
         In its original life, the Okoro house was home to a wealthy urban family with facilities and accommodations for entertaining guests and housing servants. These included a Butler's Pantry between the kitchen and dining room. Previous owners had converted the room to a storeroom and Hola had it redone as a study. A small desk, a filing cabinet, a reading chair, and floor lamp made up the furniture. The extensive shelf space became home to her collection of books on mathematics, the history of mathematics, and biographies of famous mathematicians. One shelf held her other prized collection – vinyl recordings of great classical music and opera.
         Normally, through most of the year, Hola treasured her little study and retreated there often to relax or concentrate. Today, even with the windows and doors open, her study was uncomfortably hot. So she shared the spacious dining room table with Kumi.
          "We did good. Torey got two pairs of shoes.,” Addo said as he flopped down on the living room couch.
         Kumi’s interest was piqued. "Tell me again … what was this all about?" he asked, trying not to betray that he didn’t know what Addo was talking about and couldn’t remember whether Addo had already explained it.
         Addo retold the story of the week, filling his father in on all the details. "Torey Campbell is a kid I met on Tuesday when I was playing soccer at the old field on Fletcher Avenue. I invited him to join Coach Dreyer's team. He showed up for practice on Wednesday but didn't have any gear. On Thursday, it turned out we have the same science class, so we teamed up for a science project. Yesterday he showed up for practice again with no gear. Coach Dreyer asked me to go with him to buy soccer cleats. That's what we did this morning."
         Hola was one for positive reinforcement, offering a compliment whenever possible. "Addo, what a very nice thing to do."
         Kumi agreed. "Yes. You often make me proud, Son."
         Addo replied, accepting the compliments nonchalantly. "Thanks. Dad, what are you doing?"
         Kumi looked up from the pile of papers in front of him. "I'm working on a proposal for a grant."
         Kumi’s study was the extra bedroom upstairs, but the heat had driven him downstairs to the dining room table.
         Addo got up from the couch and walked over to the table, mildly curious about the mountain of papers scattered there. "What's a grant proposal?"
         "A request to the government for money and an explanation of how we would spend it," Kumi replied, oversimplifying for Addo’s benefit.
         Addo’s curiosity continued. "Why are you asking the government for money?"
         Kumi took a long moment to relight his pipe then gave a thumbnail explanation of his project, which he dubbed ‘Allerford Awakens’, a corny title, but good enough for now. He directed his explanation to both Addo and Hola, realizing he had not shared any of this with his wife. "Well, the U.S. Department of Labor wants to give money to some economically depressed cities for projects to re-energize the city to provide more jobs along with workers to fill them. Mayor Timmons asked Eastwood Institute to help, and Dr. Pierson gave me the task of preparing the proposal. Yesterday we sponsored a luncheon presentation for local business leaders to enlist their support."
         "Is this a big job, Kumi?" Hola asked, sensing this was more than business as usual.
         A touch of pride showed through Kumi’s reply. "Very big — biggest of my life. It will really help Allerford. In fact, see here, there is a writeup in today's paper about the project and yesterday’s luncheon. And frankly, I hope it leads to a promotion and a raise for me."
         Addo felt that pile of papers had a big meaning for his family, but could not find words to articulate, so he moved on. "That sounds important, Dad. What are you working on, Mom?"
         "Going over my lesson plans for this semester and adding some fresh material," answered Hola, leaning back in her chair, and spreading her hands, palms down, across her papers. Her bright red nail polish matched her lipstick, accented her long slender fingers, and provided a sharp contrast with her black skin and the white papers on her desk. Her modest, plain gold wedding band reflected the light from the chandelier over the dining room table.
         Addo scoffed. "Mom, you teach math. Everything about math is already known. What can you possibly add?"
         Kumi leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Addo, where did you possibly get that idea?"
         Hola joined her husband’s laughter. "Heavens no! New mathematical concepts are being discovered every day."
         "Like what?" Addo asked, looking perplexed.
         Hola, putting on her teacher hat, explained. "Well, for example, there is a new field of study called 'Fractal Geometry.' I'm just learning about it. It's fascinating. So I'm trying to include a few samples in my 'Advanced Math for Seniors' class and maybe a couple quick examples for my lower grade classes."
         Addo was still perplexed. "Why? Do they have to know that? Will it be on their exam?"
         Kumi tried to be patient with his son, but this lack of awareness bothered him. "Addo, it's not a teacher's job to just stuff the student's head full of facts to feed back on the exam."
         "I think the most important part of my job is to get students excited about the world around them and to want to learn more,” Hola said reflectively. “If I can do that, one day that desire to learn will cause a student to discover new knowledge … maybe in mathematics, or maybe in medicine, or physics, or astronomy ... or who knows what else."
         "… or some field of study that hasn't been invented yet," Kumi added.
         Addo was now more perplexed. "Fields of study that haven't been invented yet? How can that be?"
         Kumi turned philosophical. "Addo, do you think we fully understand the universe? We have barely scratched the surface. What we know is far less than what we don't know. There are people working in jobs now that didn’t exist for our grandfathers. That will not stop."
         "I guess I never thought about that," Addo replied.
         Kumi continued. "Son, you are only thirteen years old. There are lots of things you haven't thought about … yet. I envy what lies ahead for you."
         A smile pulled at the corners of Addo’s mouth. "… like girls?"
         "Oh, my! It begins. You handle this one Kumi." Hola put her glasses back on and turned her attention back to her papers.
         Kumi looked at Addo, serious but not somber. "Yeah, like girls. Maybe now. If not now, then very soon."
         Addo had been joking, but still, he could glimpse the changes that were beginning to assault his mind and body. "I don't think I want to get involved with girls. They're silly."
         Kumi looked Addo in the eye and smiled. "Sorry, Addo. You'll have to take that up with God. That's the way he made the world, and you're part of it, like it or not."
         Addo looked at his mother and changed the subject. "Mom, can I ask a question?"
         Hola responded absently, not looking up from her work. "Certainly, Son."
         "Well, not exactly a question," Addo said hesitantly.
         Hola sensed concern in her son’s voice. She stopped what she was doing and gave Addo her full attention. "All right. Just tell me what's bothering you."
         Addo plunged in. "I don't understand Torey Campbell. I mean, I like him but he seems strange. I don't know how to explain it."
         "Strange how?" she asked.
         Addo explained, "I think he’s smart … but he's clueless about the world."
         "Okay?" said Hola, waiting for more.
         "He needed to buy two pairs of shoes today, and he only had sixty dollars. He said that was all his father would give him. And he only had bus fare; no lunch money."
         "That's a shame,” said Hola, “… but Addo, maybe they just don't have much money."
         "I thought of that,” Addo said,” but when we began shopping, he acted like that should be plenty of money. When we started looking at shoes he was shocked at the prices — like he had never been in a store before."
         "Oh my."
         Addo continued, with exasperation in his voice "We shopped and shopped. He finally decided that he would have to go home with only school shoes and no soccer cleats."
         "I'm sorry to hear that, but you said he got two pairs of shoes."
         "Yeah, I loaned him twenty-five dollars and bought his lunch too."
         "You loaned him twenty-five dollars and bought his lunch? My, aren't you generous." Where did he get twenty-five dollars? Hola thought but didn’t ask.
         "I couldn't help it. I felt really bad for him."
         "You did a very decent thing." replied his mother.
         Kumi had been listening and now joined in. “Boy! I’ll say. Did you talk about how he would repay you?”
         "He promised to repay me, but I told him to get the rest of his soccer gear first. He's got no gear at all."
         "It may be a long time before you see that money," Hola responded skeptically.
         "I trust him. But then there was something else."
         Hola was still skeptical, but curious. "What's that?"
         Addo picked up the story. "Thursday, we ate lunch together. He asked what you two did for a living. I told him, and he was totally surprised. He asked why we live in Drullins. I told him because we are black."
         "Oh boy. What did he say about that?" Kumi asked, laughing.
         "He said 'So what's that got to do with anything?’ seriously, with a straight face."
         Hola looked at Addo and replied, "You're right, he is clueless."

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Word Count: 2,289
Readability Consensus (based on 8 readability formulas)
         Grade Level: 5
         Reading Level: fairly easy to read.
         Reader's Age: 8-9 yrs. old (Fourth and Fifth graders)