{"id":305,"date":"2026-03-13T00:14:00","date_gmt":"2026-03-13T00:14:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/newstephenddev.wpenginepowered.com\/?page_id=305"},"modified":"2026-03-13T00:29:10","modified_gmt":"2026-03-13T00:29:10","slug":"mr-zeetzees-terrible-temper","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/?page_id=305","title":{"rendered":"Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s Terrible Temper"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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We lived in Riverside, CT, on a point of land that reached out into Greenwich Cove, on Long Island Sound. Our back yard went right to the water, and at the end of the point, less than a quarter of a mile from our house, there was a small private beach with a pier to dive from when we went swimming. Ever since I\u2019d been a little kid, Mr. Zeetzee and his wife had lived across the narrow street that went down the center of the point of land to the beach. He wasn\u2019t like all the other men on that street who commuted to their work in New York City. He owned a jewelry store in Stamford. That made him different somehow. I liked him. He was always friendly to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One day, during a snowstorm when I was walking home from school, he stopped to give me a ride. I wasn\u2019t surprised; he wasn\u2019t the kind of guy who would drive right by a neighbor\u2019s kid walking in a snowstorm. I don\u2019t remember what we talked about, but I do remember how glad I was to be riding instead of walking.  He drove calmly through the peaceful silence that comes with falling snow, until two kids walking home from the elementary school stepped out into the road and he had to put on the brakes. The car skidded in the snow, but stopped well short of the kids. Nevertheless, he jumped out of the car and screamed at them. They ran away. He kept on screaming, his body shaking, even after the kids had stopped running, several hundred yards away. I was frightened enough to want to get out of the car, but I thought that would insult him, and I didn\u2019t dare.  Finally, he got back into his car. I could tell he was ashamed. We didn\u2019t say a word to each other the rest of the way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That temper got Mr. Zeetzee into big trouble on an August night a year later, the summer before my tenth grade year.  My parents were away fly fishing in Maine and my friend John B was spending the night at my house. Even then, I was amazed at my parents\u2019 naivet\u00e9 to leave me and my older brother unsupervised. I suspect that John\u2019s parents didn\u2019t know that my parents weren\u2019t home. My two younger brothers were away at a summer camp and my older brother was visiting a friend \u2013 which is probably why I had invited John. I didn\u2019t want to be alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All the stars were out. It was warm and humid, the tide was high, and John and I, of course were restless, so around ten o\u2019clock we walked down to the beach at the end of the point.  There was a big sailboat, a yacht, at least forty feet long, tethered to a buoy several hundred yards away. It had not been there before. So, curious, we \u201cborrowed\u201d a canoe that was lying on the beach \u2013 maybe it was Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s \u2013 and paddled out to it. With each stroke of our paddles, the phosphorescence in the water lighted up the night. There was no one aboard the yacht. We tied the canoe to the buoy and climbed up onto the deck. It was a magnificent vessel, with a commodious cabin. It was so big it had a steering wheel instead of a tiller. \u201cYou could go around the world in this,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, let\u2019s us sail it around for a little while,\u201d John said. I was dumbstruck. We stood there looking at each other. I can still remember the smell of varnish and the hemp of ropes. I knew if I said \u2018yes,\u2019 we really would steal that yacht and sail it around in the dark. Like so many times before, he had suggested something that I wanted to do, just as fervently, but I lacked the nerve. We already understood that one of the reasons for doing things others would never dare is to add to the collection of stories you can tell for the rest of your life. That\u2019s powerful motivation for doing dumb things! But I knew we didn\u2019t have the competence to sail so big a craft. We\u2019d run it aground someplace and end up in jail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was tired of being the one who didn\u2019t dare. I said, \u201cI got a better idea. We\u2019ll climb the mast and dive off.\u201d Even he wouldn\u2019t do that. It was much too dark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d he said. \u201cLet\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It turned out to be easy. There were ratlines to climb. So up we went.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the crosstree we stood on way up there was thin and hurt my bare feet. I was dizzy with the height, and it was so dark we could barely see the water down below.  It would be like diving from a cliff with your eyes closed. \u201cHow do we know it is deep enough?\u201d I said. \u201cWe could hit bottom and break our necks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYeah, maybe it\u2019s shallow, \u201cJohn said in his most matter-of-fact tone. I\u2019ve never known anyone who was so good at keeping his expression blank. It was why his jokes were so funny: he never laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell then, maybe we better steal this yacht instead,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u201cJust dive straight out, not straight down,\u201d and then he did exactly that, launching himself. He hit the water in an explosion of phosphorescent light and disappeared. I knew he was staying under the water to scare me into thinking he was dead, but when he finally surfaced, I started to breathe again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was more afraid of being ashamed of being scared than I was  of gravity, so I dived too. And discovered how much fun it was. I don\u2019t remember how many times we climbed and dived into that phosphorescent gleam before we quit and paddled home. I do remember it was magic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Walking home, still keyed up with the excitement of the diving, I picked up a rock and threw it hard at a tree on the other side of the narrow street. I hadn\u2019t noticed Mr. Zeetzee standing on the front steps of his house \u2013 until the rock missed the tree, hitting the steps he was standing on, then bouncing up and striking his leg. Unlike the purposeful trespass on the yacht, this was completely a mistake. Besides, the rock had lost most of its momentum when it hit his leg. But I knew of his temper, and I started to run.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was too dark for him to recognize me, so, as we came near my house, I turned to John running beside me to tell him to run past my house so Mr. Zeetzee wouldn\u2019t know it was me. But what I saw wasn\u2019t John; it was a lighted cigarette, still in Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s lips, cruising along beside me, and the next thing I knew I had dived into some bushes. He\u2019d never seen me. He\u2019d seen John who was wearing a white T shirt, while I was only in shorts. I watched John run down the street in bare feet, Mr. Zeetzee in hot pursuit, until they disappeared around a bend. Then I went into my house and turned all the lights out so it would appear that either no one was home, or everybody was asleep. I told myself not to worry about John. He could run fast. Mr. Zeetzee wouldn\u2019t catch him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it seemed forever that I was alone in the house, and I began to imagine Mr. Zeetzee catching up to John and beating him up. Maybe killing him? Then through the living room window, I saw the headlights of Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s car coming out of his driveway and heading down the road. Now I was sure Mr. Zeetzee had caught John, hurt him badly, then grown ashamed of himself, as when he\u2019d screamed at the kids who\u2019d stepped out into the road. So he was taking John to the hospital<\/em>! Should I call my parents in Maine and ask, \u2018What do I do now? Should I call the police?\u2019 Either one of those actions would have been a sensible thing to do. Which, I suppose, is why I didn\u2019t do either of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I waited, and waited  in the dark of our living room, wishing my brother were home to tell me what to do, or, better yet, persuade me that John was safe. He was a whole year and a half older than me, and either was actually more responsible, or better at appearing to be \u2013 I still don\u2019t know which.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It must have been near midnight when I heard a knocking at the back door. Someone had come to tell me that John was dead. Or maybe John had told, under torture, who had actually thrown the rock, and Mr. Zeetzee had come to kill me too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But it wasn\u2019t an enraged Mr. Zeetzee at the door, nor a bad news messenger. It was John, soaking wet.  \u201cYou swam<\/em>?\u201d I said, my relief that he wasn\u2019t dead replaced by envy. I<\/em> never would have thought of escaping that way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shrugged as if swimming was the usual way to get to my house. \u201cWhat have you got to eat?\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Over a monster sandwich and a quart of milk, he told me, with the same straight face he\u2019d suggested we borrow the yacht, how much fun he\u2019d had with Mr. Zeetzee. \u201cHe could never catch me,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\u2019s much too fat. I\u2019d let him almost catch up to me and then I\u2019d sprint.\u201d John went on to explain that this got boring after a while, so he headed for the woods where he hid behind a tree and yelled Zeetzee, Zeetzee, Zeetzee. <\/em>\u201cI knew that would get him,\u201d John said. \u201cIf I had a name like that, I\u2019d be pissed too.\u201d When Mr. Zeetzee, crashing through the underbrush like a drunk grizzly bear, got near the tree, John would slip away to another tree, calling, Over here, Mr. Zeetzee, Over here!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a while, Mr. Zeetzee stopped chasing him. John was sure he was pretending to have given up and had gone home. John was too smart to fall for that one, so for the next ten minutes or so, he stayed where he was, thinking he was outwaiting Mr. Zeetzee, but then a car\u2019s headlights were lighting up the woods. Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s fury was so durable that it had lasted long enough for him to go home, get his car and drive it back so he could shine his headlights into the woods and find John.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI stepped out from behind the tree, and said \u2018Hi Mr. Zeetzee,\u2019 and waved my hand like I was glad to see him again,\u201d John told me, and went on to tell that Mr. Zeetzee jumped out of the car and came running toward him. John jumped sideways, out of the beams of light, and sneaked in a big circle back toward Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s car. \u201cAfter a while, I realized I\u2019d lost him,\u201d John said. \u201cIt was kind of disappointing. So I made some big whooping noises. I heard him crashing around in the bushes. He still didn\u2019t know where I was, so I went the rest of the way to his car and started blowing the horn.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll of a sudden, he was right there in front of me, grabbing for me,\u201d John said.  \u201cI guess I\u2019d blown the horn a few too many times. He was making funny noises, like snoring and screaming all at once and I could feel how crazy I\u2019d made him. So I yelled goodbye and took off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

John ran, full speed now, not playing games anymore, out of the woods, across the road and an empty lot, where some college age kids were singing songs and drinking beer around a fire and dived into the water at the back of the cove, a good half a mile from my house. It took at least a half an hour to swim to my house. I imagined him calmly swimming under all those stars, and my envy, mixed with admiration, grew even more intense. \u201cI knew it was your house because all the lights were out,\u201d he said. \u201cSo I climbed up the sea wall and knocked on the door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So that was that. Two fine adventures in one night! How satisfying is that?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Two days later I saw the headlines in our local newspaper,\u00a0Greenwich Time<\/em>s: RIVERSIDE MAN ARRESTED. And a picture of Mr. Zeetzee. The article told how Mr. Zeetzee had burst upon the college kids sitting around the fire, and proceeded to beat one of them up. I would never have seen the article if I hadn\u2019t happened to offer to take a friend\u2019s place on his paper route that day so he could he could go sailing with his parents.\u00a0All of a sudden, he was punching me in the face<\/em>, the article quoted the kid. I figured, in the light of the fire, like the light of the headlamps, he must have looked like John. The kid\u2019s father was pressing charges.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After I finished the route, I kept one of the papers and showed it to John. I needed to know how he would react. Did he feel guilty? After all, he was the one who had tortured Mr. Zeetzee. Yes, I had started it all, but by mistake. John didn\u2019t let on how he felt. I got the same blank expression, and a little shrug. After that, we never talked about that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I was the one who\u2019d known Mr. Zeetzee, and had liked him, ever since I\u2019d been a little kid. Not everyone stops and gives rides to people walking in snowstorms. There was no way I would ever be able to look him in the eye again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My parents came home a few days later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The next day, a bright warm Saturday, when the tide was high, my father said, \u201cLet\u2019s go swimming.\u201d  I prayed Mr. Zeetzee wouldn\u2019t be on the pier. But there he was, sitting on the bench with a towel around his neck. We had to walk right by him. Not having read the paper because he\u2019d been away, my dad didn\u2019t know about his humiliation. And of course, no one in our neighborhood would talk about it. But I saw Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s shame when my dad said hello to him. He didn\u2019t know my dad had been away. I said \u201cHi Mr. Zeetzee, but I kept my eyes away, and kept on walking, my eyes straight forward toward the buoy where the yacht was tethered no longer, and dived off the pier. In the water, I looked back and saw my father dive in. Behind him, on the pier, Mr. Zeetzee had already started to walk home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That evening, I confessed to my father. I was desperate to get it off my chest.  Maybe he\u2019d tell me to confess to Mr. Zeetzee. I started at the beginning, telling him about John\u2019s and my adventure on the yacht. He made it clear he disapproved, though mildly, for trespassing, and he was disturbed that I would take such chances by diving into water that might not be deep enough. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do something dangerous just to keep up with your friends.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But when I told him about John and Mr. Zeetzee, and how I had started it by throwing the rock, and how I\u2019d thought Mr. Zeetzee was chasing both of us until I\u2019d seen his lighted cigarette and dived into the bushes, he started to grin. I felt a huge relief. Besides, it was fun to tell such a good story, so I told all the details. By the time I\u2019d gotten to the part where John was blowing Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s car horn, he was laughing so hard he had to sit down. When I went on to tell him about Mr. Zeetzee beating up the college kid and getting arrested, he stopped laughing.  I\u2019m pretty sure, he had as much sympathy for Mr. Zeetzee as for the kid whom he had beaten up. But I could see that, for him, that was a separate story, a whole other event.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I didn\u2019t have to feel guilty! My father wasn\u2019t going to tell me to cross the street, knock on Mr. Zeetzee\u2019s door, and when he opened it, stand there, look him right in the eye and confess to him!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then why didn\u2019t I feel satisfied? I\u2019ve pondered that question ever since. My father remains for me the most upright man I\u2019ve ever known. He never would have even considered stealing someone\u2019s yacht.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On the other hand, he would never have gotten up the nerve even to climb that mast \u2013 let alone jump off of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Into the dark.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We lived in Riverside, CT, on a point of land that reached out into Greenwich Cove, on Long Island Sound. Our back yard went right to the water, and at the end of the point, less than a quarter of a mile from our house, there was a small private beach with a pier to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-305","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"featured_image_src":null,"featured_image_src_square":null,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/305","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=305"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/pages\/305\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.stephen-davenport.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=305"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}