The UnNameables

Jamie's Beginning

            To an outsider, Martin James Holland seemed like a normal enough person in the photos that captured his life. The way he used to talk, however, and the stories he used to tell about adventure and doing the right thing made his grandson, Jamie Holland, realize that Martin was the most honorable man on earth. Jamie would never forget what he told him shortly before he disappeared.

"Life is one giant metaphor, Jamie," he said. "You're the hero of your own story, and there are going to be villains out there who try to hold you back. The thing you need to remember is that there is always a way to defeat them."

There's always a way to defeat them. Jamie had never forgotten those words. He remembered when Martin said them. Even though it was ten years ago, Jamie felt like it was yesterday. They had been sitting out on Martin's back deck, peeling potatoes. Jamie had watched as the knife pulled the rough, dirty brown skin away from the smooth, slippery meat. He had liked the way the peels curled and fell into the metal bucket at their feet. Jamie was in third grade at the time, only eight years old, and he'd been having trouble with bullies at school. Just that day, he he'd had a particularly nasty run-in with one of the larger fifth-graders, Drake Bol, and as soon as the bus dropped him off, he had run to his Grandpa Martin's house in tears.

"Do you think this boy knows you?" Martin raised an eyebrow at his grandson. Jamie blinked, shocked at the question.

"Yes?"

"I don't think he does," Martin countered. "Because if he really knew who you are, he wouldn't lay a finger on you."

Eight-year-old Jamie stared at him, a vacant expression on his tear-streaked face.

"Tell me, Jams," Martin continued, "what do you see when you look at this potato?" Grabbing a grotesque, brown lump from the basket, he held it up for Jamie to see. It had warts and large, bulging eyes with hairs growing from the tips. Jamie wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"It looks like a turd."

Martin chuckled. "But do you know what on the inside?" He picked up the peeler and cut away the thick, brown skin to reveal the pure, ivory inside. "That's quite a difference, isn't it?" He looked at his grandson carefully. At the time, Jamie had had no idea why his grandpa was telling him this, but then Martin said something that blew his tiny, eight-year-old mind.

"You see, it's not what's on the outside that matters, Jams. It's what you find on the inside that defines who you are." He handed the potato to Jamie, who looked at it strangely. "That boy, Drake, makes fun of you at school, but he doesn't know you because he can only see your outside. If he saw your inside, he would think twice before messing with you."

Life is a giant metaphor, indeed - not that Martin was calling his grandson a potato (which is what it sounded like to an eight-year-old boy). To paraphrase, he had been trying to explain that there will always be mean people in life, but as long as they knew who Jamie really was, they will never have power over him. That's Martin Holland for you: full of insight and brimming with determination.

Jamie had always wanted to be more like his grandpa, but the next day at school, Drake had grabbed his glasses and crunched them underneath his boot, all the while calling him names, and Jamie said something that didn't improve his chances: "I'm like a potato! You don't know me!"

Every time he thought back to that incident, Jamie would cringe. Not because he totally humiliated himself or because he had needed to buy a new pair of glasses, but because from that moment on, he never took advice from his Grandpa Martin again. Now Martin was gone, and, because of coincidental evidence and misplaced accusations, Jamie's mother had been falsely accused of his murder. Seeing his mother get a life sentence in jail tore Jamie apart, and, to top it all off, he felt like he'd let his grandpa down by ignoring his advice. He never told him what had happened with Drake, and now he never could.