The Best Part of the Day
Bruce Holland Rogers
Mr. Howard's day started with his discovery that there wasn't enough milk for cereal. Good. He would have to go shopping on his way home from the Post Office. He dressed, and took his time walking to the P.O., waited in line, and chatted with the clerk about the weather. Nice weather. He paid for the postage on the package he was sending. From there he made his way on foot to the Vons. He talked to the man in produce about the melons. Were they fresh? Where did they come from? From Arizona? How about that. Mr. Howard didn't care for melons, he told the man in produce. He bought an apple. He also remembered to buy a quart of milk.
Back at home, he found it was still only mid-morning. Still so early. Sometimes Mr. Howard had considered making his phone call before seven in the evening, but then what would he have to look forward to the rest of the day? He erased the answers from a crossword that he had done in pencil, then did the puzzle again. From his bookshelf he took down the heavy Random House Encyclopedia. Some of what he read was familiar, but he came across something new. In 1066, after the Norman invasion, King Harold's daughter fled east to escape the Normans. Far, far east. She ended up marrying Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev. How about that? Every day, there was something new to learn. He considered this new information for its quiz potential, but decided against it. It wouldn't be a question many people could answer, even if it were multiple choice.
It was lunch time, and he didn't have any sandwich bread. He walked to the store again. The woman at the deli counter seemed irritable, and he wanted to find some way to cheer her up. He thought he would ask her what her favorite part of the day was. He ordered one eighth of a pound of smoked turkey breast. While she ran the slicer, he rehearsed his question silently. He would ask when she said, Will there be anything else? Only she didn't ask. She put his order on the counter and went right on to the next customer.
In the afternoon, he went to the dollar store to see about prizes. The only new items he saw were a set of steak knives and some baskets. Mentioning knives didn't seem like a good start with someone you had never met. As for the baskets, they would be a challenge to mail. He bought some of his old stand-bys: a car washing mitt, a Patriotic Stars-and-Stripes Wind Sock, a Crocheted Lace Doily from the Home Collection, a tape measure, and a six-pack of bungee cords. He bought padded envelopes.
At five, he discovered that he had no butter. He couldn't make macaroni and cheese without it. He had to go shopping again.
Finally, after he had made and eaten his dinner, cleaned up, and taken a small bag of garbage outside to the dumpster, it was time. Mr. Howard took the index cards from their drawer, laid them out by category, and opened the phone book. He paused. All was in readiness. At last. He dropped a penny on the page. He dialed the number that was nearest. It rang. Someone answered. “Hello?” A woman.
“Hello!” he said, picking up one of the cards. “Would you say that the largest hailstone ever recorded was bigger than a golf ball, bigger than a baseball, bigger than a softball, or bigger than a basketball?”
“Hello?” she said again. “Who is this?”
“This is Mr. Howard with...” He considered his prizes. “...the Super-Cleaning Micro Fiber Fluffy Cloth. I'm calling with today's quiz. Do you want me to repeat the question?”
“This is a contest?”
“The question, madam, is about the largest hailstone ever recorded.” He repeated the question.
“Um,” she said, “bigger than a softball?”
“Ooh, I'm sorry,” said Mr. Howard. And he was sorry. He liked it best when he had a winner on the first try. “With a diameter of seventeen and one-half inches, the largest hailstone was bigger than a basketball. You can still win, though, by getting the next question right, and you get to select the category. Will it be the Bible and religion, world history, sports, science, or literature?”
“Who are you with again? Am I on the radio?”
He told her that she wasn't on the radio. He gave her the categories again.
“I guess I'll take the Bible.”
“All right, here is your question. What word appears exactly 773,692 times in the King James Bible?”
“What word?”
“Seven hundred seventy-three thousand six hundred and ninety-two times. Exactly.”
“Is it unto?”
“Ooh,” said Mr. Howard. “I'm so sorry. The word is amen.”
“Of course.”
“Don't feel badly,” said Mr. Howard. “You're still eligible for the prize if you answer this next one correctly.” He took a question from the gimme stack. Multiple choice. What war lasted from June5, 1967 to June 10, 1967? Was it the Yom Kippur War? The Three-hundred Years War? The Korean War? Or the Six-Day War?
She got it right.
“It will be our pleasure to send you your prize by first-class mail,” he said.
“I won?” she said. “I've never won anything before.”
That was what Mr. Howard liked to hear. He verified the name and address from the phone book, congratulated his winner again and wished her a good night. He took his time copying the mailing address onto a padded envelope, forming each letter or number in a pleasing way. No return address. He carefully folded the Super-Cleaning Micro Fiber Fluffy Cloth and slid it into the envelope. The next day, he would walk to the Post Office and make sure of the postage. He was happy.
Years later, Mr. Howard died. His sons gathered in the house he left behind. They set to work clearing out and cleaning, settling things. They gave his clothes to the Salvation Army. They said to each other, “Another screwdriver set?” They puzzled over a whole bag of crocheted doilies, still with their labels. They counted out twenty-three car wash mitts, a dozen unopened six-packs of bungee cords. More than once, Mr. Howard's sons wondered aloud “What was he thinking?”
Back at home, he found it was still only mid-morning. Still so early. Sometimes Mr. Howard had considered making his phone call before seven in the evening, but then what would he have to look forward to the rest of the day? He erased the answers from a crossword that he had done in pencil, then did the puzzle again. From his bookshelf he took down the heavy Random House Encyclopedia. Some of what he read was familiar, but he came across something new. In 1066, after the Norman invasion, King Harold's daughter fled east to escape the Normans. Far, far east. She ended up marrying Grand Prince Vladimir of Kiev. How about that? Every day, there was something new to learn. He considered this new information for its quiz potential, but decided against it. It wouldn't be a question many people could answer, even if it were multiple choice.
It was lunch time, and he didn't have any sandwich bread. He walked to the store again. The woman at the deli counter seemed irritable, and he wanted to find some way to cheer her up. He thought he would ask her what her favorite part of the day was. He ordered one eighth of a pound of smoked turkey breast. While she ran the slicer, he rehearsed his question silently. He would ask when she said, Will there be anything else? Only she didn't ask. She put his order on the counter and went right on to the next customer.
In the afternoon, he went to the dollar store to see about prizes. The only new items he saw were a set of steak knives and some baskets. Mentioning knives didn't seem like a good start with someone you had never met. As for the baskets, they would be a challenge to mail. He bought some of his old stand-bys: a car washing mitt, a Patriotic Stars-and-Stripes Wind Sock, a Crocheted Lace Doily from the Home Collection, a tape measure, and a six-pack of bungee cords. He bought padded envelopes.
At five, he discovered that he had no butter. He couldn't make macaroni and cheese without it. He had to go shopping again.
Finally, after he had made and eaten his dinner, cleaned up, and taken a small bag of garbage outside to the dumpster, it was time. Mr. Howard took the index cards from their drawer, laid them out by category, and opened the phone book. He paused. All was in readiness. At last. He dropped a penny on the page. He dialed the number that was nearest. It rang. Someone answered. “Hello?” A woman.
“Hello!” he said, picking up one of the cards. “Would you say that the largest hailstone ever recorded was bigger than a golf ball, bigger than a baseball, bigger than a softball, or bigger than a basketball?”
“Hello?” she said again. “Who is this?”
“This is Mr. Howard with...” He considered his prizes. “...the Super-Cleaning Micro Fiber Fluffy Cloth. I'm calling with today's quiz. Do you want me to repeat the question?”
“This is a contest?”
“The question, madam, is about the largest hailstone ever recorded.” He repeated the question.
“Um,” she said, “bigger than a softball?”
“Ooh, I'm sorry,” said Mr. Howard. And he was sorry. He liked it best when he had a winner on the first try. “With a diameter of seventeen and one-half inches, the largest hailstone was bigger than a basketball. You can still win, though, by getting the next question right, and you get to select the category. Will it be the Bible and religion, world history, sports, science, or literature?”
“Who are you with again? Am I on the radio?”
He told her that she wasn't on the radio. He gave her the categories again.
“I guess I'll take the Bible.”
“All right, here is your question. What word appears exactly 773,692 times in the King James Bible?”
“What word?”
“Seven hundred seventy-three thousand six hundred and ninety-two times. Exactly.”
“Is it unto?”
“Ooh,” said Mr. Howard. “I'm so sorry. The word is amen.”
“Of course.”
“Don't feel badly,” said Mr. Howard. “You're still eligible for the prize if you answer this next one correctly.” He took a question from the gimme stack. Multiple choice. What war lasted from June5, 1967 to June 10, 1967? Was it the Yom Kippur War? The Three-hundred Years War? The Korean War? Or the Six-Day War?
She got it right.
“It will be our pleasure to send you your prize by first-class mail,” he said.
“I won?” she said. “I've never won anything before.”
That was what Mr. Howard liked to hear. He verified the name and address from the phone book, congratulated his winner again and wished her a good night. He took his time copying the mailing address onto a padded envelope, forming each letter or number in a pleasing way. No return address. He carefully folded the Super-Cleaning Micro Fiber Fluffy Cloth and slid it into the envelope. The next day, he would walk to the Post Office and make sure of the postage. He was happy.
Years later, Mr. Howard died. His sons gathered in the house he left behind. They set to work clearing out and cleaning, settling things. They gave his clothes to the Salvation Army. They said to each other, “Another screwdriver set?” They puzzled over a whole bag of crocheted doilies, still with their labels. They counted out twenty-three car wash mitts, a dozen unopened six-packs of bungee cords. More than once, Mr. Howard's sons wondered aloud “What was he thinking?”