..“Pass me the timber labeled number four, please, and some of the large nails.” Dad requested.“Don’t you want number three first?” I querie....“Fu ... Damn. You’re right. Number three first then.”“I don’t think it goes there. And I think you have it upside down.”“Argggh.”My dad started hammering. “OW! Fuck that hurts.”And so on. I could see slow but steady progress was being made.On the practical side, I was learning how to suck your finger when you hit said finger with the hammer instead of the. ‘ So that was it. Apparently Paul had decided that his singular lack of success to that point had been due to the absenceof a ‘ vehicle ‘, some piece of theater art that was custom made for him and him alone, something that had value in itself, but that would also serve to spotlight his wonderful work in mime. The play, as he explained it to me, was set in New Orleans in the thirties, and involved a young mime who was obviously Paul himself. ‘Would you like to help me with it?’ he asked. More

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