Mr. Lucas was the type of guy who had a story for everything.
“Well now, that reminds of the time…”
Nearly every one of those stories began the same and ended, invariably, with some kind of nonsense that had you shaking your head, wondering what, exactly, the point had been. I was fifteen when Mr. Lucas and his brood of six came to stay with us, and inclined to not only shake my head, but to sigh loudly and roll my eyes at his backward ways.
He — out of either some bizarre grace or total ignorance — paid no heed to my public displays of annoyance.
“Miss Heath-uh, why don’t you get out th’old chess board and let me show you a few things. Mmm hmm. That’s right. I’m gonna put the quay-ee-tus on ya.”
The quay-ee-tus?
Mr. Lucas slicked his hair back in a greasy swirl, wore shiny Air Force issue black shoes and invented ridiculous words. And night after night, he schooled me in chess. Or, as he said, put the quay-ee-tus on me.
“What does that mean, Mr. Lucas? It’s not even a word.”
“Sure it is. If it ain’t a word, how come you fall for it every time?”
“You want me to get the dictionary again?”
It would go on this way until his wife intervened.
“Paul?” Mrs. Lucas would sit quietly in one of my mother’s blue, high-backed chairs, reading while her awkward mate levied his check-mate. Though patient and lovingly accepting of her husband’s quirks, she was decidedly more timid — and also less comfortable than he about their situation. Temporarily homeless and relying on the hospitality of strangers, the Lucas Six added to the Hunter Seven in a chaos that strained the very seams of our house. Mrs. Lucas, calm and even-toned, did her best to lessen the effects.
“Why don’t you put that away for now? The kids have homework.”
For years after, we would imitate Mr. Lucas and his hokey accent. “I’m a-gonna put the quay-ee-tus on ya” we’d threaten over Trivial Pursuit or sprints for shotgun. The mocking was gentle. Mr. Lucas could drive you crazy, but also somehow endear himself to you — a weirdo with a brilliant chess game and a stockpile of made-up words.
A few months ago, I was nearing the end of The Moviegoer when I stopped mid-sentence and stared. “No way,” I said. “No effing way.” I opened my web browser and picked up my cell phone. My brother answered after two rings.
“It’s a real word, Jas.”
“What?”
“Quay-ee-tus. He pronounced it wrong, but it’s for real.”
“You’re kidding. I always wondered where he got that. What does it mean?”
When I told him, my brother laughed. “You mean, Ol’ Lucas even used it correctly?”
“Mmm hmmm.
“I’ll be damned. He really did put the quietus on us.”
Word of the day: qui•e•tus
n. Something that serves to suppress, check, or eliminate.
Fish, your site is a quietus for my building mental illness.
Now that’s what I’m talking about! This post is why I find your blog so endearing. In some strange way it is humbling, endearing and completely understandable. Thank you for a bright spot in my otherwise blighted day Heather. Really.
In top form I see.
Welcome back!
My mom was an inveterate correcter. We grew up with occasional spelling errors, but not many pronunciation mistakes, and a fine sense of neologism. “I said ‘monumentous’ because I meant ‘monumentous.’” That sort of thing.
Of course we’re also all insane, but that’s another story. This is a great memoir; thanks.
Don’t you remember your high-school “Hamlet”? There’s something in there about “…quietus his bare bodkin make” in one of his soliloquies. I can’t recite it verbatim any longer but I still get the gist of it!
That word is used quite often in Mississippi…”Me and Jim Bob were going to take the 4-wheeler muddin’ , but Momma put the quietus on that.
i hope mr. lucas didn’t recently experience quietus, and that made you remember this story.
What a fantastic cuffer!! More, please, more.
)
Incidentally, I’ll be visiting your fair city at some point on my digital wanderings and I’m collecting recommendations….got any?
D.D.
what a lovely, lovely post (again). thanks.
what a lovely, lovely post (again). thanks.
what a lovely, lovely post (again). thanks.
what a lovely, lovely post (again). thanks.
I love that word–it does seem like a Deep South word to me, too. Your story reminds me of my sixth-grade science teacher, who would always exhort our class to “KWAH-ten DAY-own!” (“quieten down”).
I also worked at a restaurant in high school, and one of the cooks once tried to compliment me, I think, by saying I looked “exquavious.” Ten years later, that is still one of the highlights of that job.
Love it.
lovely post, as others have said.
Oh Go Mr Lucas! What a man! heehee!
What a touching and sweet story!
Thanks for sharing that with us.:-)
So… am I the only person left wondering how long this family lived with you?
Hamlet, Act III, scene I, the passive verb speech (to be, not to be, that sort of thing). About halfway through: “For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the laws delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes whe he himself might his own QUIETUS make with a bare bodkin (knife)?”
Bragging point … I did that without looking it up. Thanks, Mrs. Daugherty!!!
He’s STILL at it! Jedi, Sith, where does he find this stuff?!
It’s kind of like the Pompatus of Love, only not as loud.
Sort of reminds me of Proust’s tea story.
I wish my Year Seven classes could be quietus sometimes! You should write a novel!!
Will,
About three months? Maybe a bit less. Just long enough to make most of us stir crazy. The cool thing was their kids were in some of our classes and RIDICULOUSLY smart. Living with a calculus tutor did not hurt.
what a lovely, lovely story, and one that is so typical of you.
thats funny…quietus is part of my normal vocabulary, but I am a dictionary freak…go ahead read my profile…I READ the dictionary and Thesaurus for fun.
Fish – great post! I read the Moviegoer when you mentioned it a while back – great book, thank you for the recomendation. But, where did you run across it (it being older than you and all)?
Thanks for your great writing.
Jim,
I judged a book by its cover. I wandered around B&N until I found a book that looked good, bought it, and was not let down.
Glad you liked it!
Quietus. What a great word! That’s the thing I love most about English: so many words. We’ve almost twice the number of words as any other language, there’s literally a word for everything.
Lovely post.
hey fish, love you feminist perspective..very entertaining blog!!
How’s your chess game these days?