— Eye on Everett —


Confidential conversations between Josh Resnek and the mayor’s famous, Blue Suit.


“What do you think is going on with Carlo this week?” I asked the Blue Suit Tuesday afternoon. We bought a pizza from Christopher at Square Deli. We ate it inside the car in the old part of Woodlawn Cemetery under the shade of old, old trees.

“Is he all you can think about, Josh?” the Blue Sue complained. I cleared my throat.
“Would you rather I asked about Gerry or Greg? Come on.

How’s Carlo this week?” I repeated.

After swallowing what appeared to be a wheel barrow size mouthful of chewed up pizza, the Blue Suit appeared momentarily engorged, as if he was going to explode.

He burped a short blast. He burped a second time with much more gusto.

“Carlo is feeling very good,” the Blue Suit answered me.

“You know he’s feeling good when he passes you while you were delivering newspapers and he taps his horn twice and gives you a wave,” the Blue Suit added.

“You smiled and waved back at him,” he told me.

“Is that the way it went?” he asked me.

“Yes it is. Exactly,” I replied.

“It was Wednesday. He passed by me in a late model white Mercedes, gave me a wave and a double toot of the horn. I had to smile about that.”

“Why?” the Blue Suit asked.

“Because what we have going between ourselves is a game – a kind of winner take all contest in a very small space where we are never too far from one another,” I answered.

I thought about it for a moment.

“It can be an expensive game and it is for both of us. We’re kind of in the same boat, floating around in the same pond quite unable to get away from one another no matter how hard we might try,” I added.

“What would you two do if you didn’t have each other?” the Blue Suit asked me.

“I don’t know. That’s an interesting question to ponder. It is difficult to imagine Everett without Carlo DeMaria if you know what I mean,” I said. “After all these years of covering him as a reporter, not much has changed except that we are older.

“You’re preaching to the converted,” the Blue Suit chimed. “Do you know how many years I’ve been worn by Carlo?” “Let me guess, I asked.

“Ten years,” I said.

“Longer,” the Blue Suit said.

“Whoa! Let’s leave it at that.”

“Good idea,” the Blue Suit replied. We finished off the pizza. We drove on the narrow roadways in the manicured resting place. Several of the employees cutting the grass noticed me and the Blue Suit.

“It’s him,” I heard one of the cemetery workers say to his colleague. He pointed at us. “It’s the Blue Suit. I told you he comes with Resnek all the time, didn’t I?”

Both cemetery employees gave the Blue Suit a high five as we very slowly passed by to the Blue Suit.

“You’re the man,” exclaimed one of the cemetery employees. “Love you, guy,” said the other.

The Blue Suit gave both of them a hearty thumbs up and we were on our way.

When I drove out of the cemetery, a police officer doing a detail on Elm Street recognized the Blue Suit instantly.

“Yo. Man. Mr. Blue Suit what is up!” the police officer asked.

“You know him?” I asked the police officer.

“More people know the Blue Suit than you could ever imagine,” the policeman answered. “He is a major league celebrity in this city. He is way famous. Way well known. Everyone I know wants to know more and more about his life. He’s a real character,” he said.

I agreed.

Back to Carlo.

“So you think he’s in good spirits?” I asked.

“Seems that way to me and I ought to know.”

“But then, Carlo is a holder of secrets,” he added.

“is he happy?” I asked.

“Or is he tired of the whole silly game?” I asked the Blue Suit. “you know he missed two major engagements last week, Josh,” the Blue Suit said to me.

“I know,” I answered. “It isn’t like him to blow off the seniors at the annual time he throws for them at the armory. And then he missed the other time, some cookout he has annually. Again, that’s not like him,” I said.

“Maybe he’s just tired, Josh. Maybe he’s fed up with the whole game? I don’t know. If he is, he sure doesn’t say anything to me about it.”

We drove around the city in the excessive heat.

God, it was hot Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Friday morning I drove by the temperature sign and time at Everett High School at 10:30 a.m. It read 97. That’s major heat. All the grass everywhere has the look of a carpet burned to nice dry, unhealthy crispy mass of brown turning to lifeless yellow.

Funny to think about how it will all come back with a bit of rain.

The rain will turn everything green again – and certainly by the end of August, everything that grows will be rich and full. But what if the rain never comes. Can New England turn into the West that is now growing short of water?

Yes it can, and maybe it will with this climate thing going on. “Does Carlo believe in climate change?” I asked.
“Do you, Josh?” the Blue Suit shot back.

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