Clenched Fists

        She lay with her fists clenched, stretched and made tiny sounds.  Testing the limits of her abilities, this red new born with a head full of hair and closed eyes was beauty personified to her family.   Unknown to them, her clenched fists was a foreshadowing of her fate.  

        Throughout her childhood she defied all conventions and from an early age had, as her Dad said, “a mind of her own”.  She never accepted anything without questioning its purpose.  When her Dad would tell her to go to bed she would clench her little fist look up defiantly and ask why she had to go to bed, or why she had to eat all her food, or why she could not go outside, why, why, why.  It was the inevitable response to anything she did not want to do.  

        She continued this behavior in school, never accepting the authority of any teacher.  She always wanted to know the reason for everything that she was required to do.  She went through her school years with her fists clenched and a defiant look for anyone who tried to assert their authority over her.  This included her peers as well as adults, she would not meekly acquiesce to anyone’s demands.  She was defiant and often her clenched fist was used as a club to drive away the other kids who demanded her obedience.

        Her defiance was was seen as a sign of strength by her parents and as leadership by her peers.  As she explored the world and learned of the injustices and inhumanity of others she would become angry, clench her fists and wonder how others could be so intimidated by the power that demanded others to bend to their will. 

        In college she joined groups demanding social justice and attended protests against police brutality, hunger, war, higher taxes or any other action that caused her to clench her fists and ask why is it that way.  Her activist life made her happy but she was not fulfilled.  She felt that she needed to do more to help solve the inequities the world presented to her.

        Her family began to worry about her activities.  They warned that her defiance of convention and authority would lead to problems.  She clenched her fists and and told them she would do things her own way and did not need their advice nor their help.  She was dedicated to her activist life and could imagine no other way to live.

        She joined an international aid agency and soon was traveling around the world to some of the most dangerous and depressing places in the world.  She became an organizer helping groups who wanted to obtain justice and equality.  Her primary work was with women seeking civil rights in their homelands.

        That led her to Afghanistan.  In the midst of this war torn country she began working with women who wanted an education.  She soon became known as the woman with clenched fists.  She was adamant in her beliefs and unwavering in her courage to defy anyone who would deny women an education.

        One day as she was working at a school for women, a group of radical religionist entered the school and began beating the women yelling and telling them that God wanted them to cover themselves and serve their husbands, not learn foolish western ideas about mathematics or science.  In the midst of this uproar she entered with her fists clenched and that defiant look on her face.  Telling these men that women had every right to be exactly what they wanted to be.  Her anger and defiance was met with a clenched fist in the middle of her face.  She screamed and attacked the man who had hit her.  Suddenly a shot rang out! When the sound had died away and the smoke had dissipated she lay on the floor with her fists clenched and her heart stopped. 

        The women she had defended quietly surrounded her dead body.  As they viewed her their faces turned red, they stretched their arms to the scarves on their head uncovering their hair, making quiet sounds of anger and grief as they clenched their fists and asked why the world was full of injustice and wondered what they could do to change it.

The War Bride Takes Control

That man drives me crazy, Mary thought.  He says he loves me when I ask and we go out when he’s home, but he never writes me when he is away or tells me about things happening in his life if I don’t ask.  She gazed in the mirror watching as she carefully applied her reddest lipstick.  Rising from the stool in front of the vanity she inspected herself in the mirror.  She hadn’t been the prettiest girl in their high school class three years ago, but she was trim and her smile was captivating.  Her pin curled hair style had perfect victory rolls and even though she didn’t make much as a waitress at the cafe counter in Woolworth’s 5 & 10 Cent Store, she knew how to handle what she made so she could dress in the latest styles. 

She smiled at herself in the mirror then looked down at the photo taken on the day she and Carl graduated from high school.  He looked so handsome and mature in the suit he had borrowed from his brother-in-law for the ceremony.  They looked so perfect together, his crooked smile in the picture made her feel warm inside.  He is not going to get away from me she decided, besides he told me if he had to go into the army we would get married, that sounds like a proposal to me.  I know he loves me even if he can’t tell me himself.

“Mom!” she called as she walked down the narrow staircase inside their green shingled farm house.  She glanced out the window located on the landing at the spot where the stairs turned.  The sun lit the corridor brightly when the sun was up, at night it was dark and spooky in the same space.  She could just make out the new plants in the garden her daddy raised when he wasn’t working in the coal mines.  The rest of the forty acres was covered in corn.  “Mom, where are you?” she called again.

“I’m right here on the back porch.”  She heard through the screen door leading from the kitchen to the porch. She stepped outside and saw her mom pumping water from the well.  Her mom’s heavy body, was backlighted by the rising sun and Mary could see the rows of sprouting corn marching right up to the edge of the narrow yard behind the shadowy figure of her Mom.  It was Saturday morning and that meant her mom and daddy would bathe. Her Daddy first, after he finished her Mom would pour some more boiling water from the kettle on the wood burning stove into the tin tub and wash herself.  Mary always looked forward to Saturday because the house smelled so much better.  She took sponge baths every night but, her Mom and Daddy got a little pungent by the end of the week. 

Country life on this small farm three miles outside Illinois’ capitol wasn’t what she had in mind for her future.  That, she thought to herself, was part of the reason she wanted to marry Carl.  He was so smart, going to college on a scholarship, studying chemistry and he had signed up to become an officer in the Army Air Corps.  She just knew their life would be happier than her parent’s had been.  That is if he would show a little more interest in getting married.  Carl tended to put off today until tomorrow anything having to do with their relationship.  He had never asked her to a dance in high school until she had asked him if he was going to ask her.

“What do I have to do to get married?” she asked her mom.  “Carl’s sister says he has been called to active service in the Air Corps and will be leaving for training a the end of the spring semester.  That’s only two months away.”

“I don’t know Mary Elizabeth, why would you want to get married anyway, men only want one thing, you know.  Carl is okay but he is a man.”  Pansy replied in a flat emotionless tone.  

“I know Daddy’s been hard on you, and me for that matter, but Carl isn’t like that, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his whole body.  He’ll make me happy.”  Mary Elizabeth answered defensively.

“Help me carry in this water,” Pansy said as she stooped over and grabbed one handle on the tub of cold water.  Mary reached down and grabbed the other handle. They lifted up the heavy bath water and carried it into the kitchen, setting it next to the stove where there were already kettles of water sending out puffs of steam signaling they were almost ready to boil.

“Who is getting married?” said a quiet voice at kitchen door leading to the living room.  

“Grandma, what are doing out of bed?  I thought you were sick.”  Mary told her short, white-haired step-grandma.

“No, I’m okay, I need to move around a little, I can’t stand laying in bed when there is so much work to do.”

Mary looked at her Grandma and saw that she was pale and her eyes lacked the gutsy spark that she loved so much.  “Okay, you walk around, but you don’t need to be doing any work.” 

“Phooey, I been working my whole life, I can’t stop now.” Grandma said as she looked at the pile of dishes on the counter from last night’s meal.  “Did Carl ask you to get hitched?” She inquired.

“No, well sort of, you know he doesn’t really express himself, but I know he loves me and Marg says he has been activated and he said we would get married if he got called up.   I certainly don’t want him going off to those French girls without a ring on his finger.”   

“Mary Elizabeth, put some more water on the stove and stoke the fire a bit while I go to the outhouse.”  Pansy ordered as she walked out the back door. Mary began filling more kettles with water and placing them on the stove while her Grandma continued speaking.

“Lord, Lord I remember when your Uncle Pearl was sent off to the great war.  Those people over there are always needing our young men to die for them.  That was a terrible time and now Carl has to go.  No telling what will happen to him.  You better marry him while you can or some French girl will grab him.”  Grandma told Mary.

Mary’s mouth turned down and she looked at the floor as she considered what her Grandma told her.  “I think I have a plan to do just that.” She mumbled as the kettles on the stove began to whistle.

The screen door opened as Pansy walked to the stove, picked up a kettle and began adding boiling water to the tub she and Mary had just brought into the house.  “Chester your bath is ready.” She called.  “Chester can you hear me!” she yelled to her husband.

“I’m coming woman, stop your caterwauling!”  a throaty voice answered from another part of the house.

“Your Daddy won’t be happy about you wanting to marry Carl.  You know he don’t like him much.  He and Carl’s pop never did get along.  Them Bullocks are always putting on airs but they ain’t nothing but dirt farmers without a farm.” Pansy told Mary.

“That’s right.” Grandma added, “Remember Chester and Carl going at it last year when he dropped you off after the dance?  Chester thinks all the Bullocks are lazy and shiftless.  Carl’s dad ain’t worked a day in his life, I bet.  He’s always to sick and his wife is always yelling at all those kids, making them work, carrying papers and taking care of yards.  I don’t think they would be able to eat if there weren’t eight kids in that house that all began working when they can carry a newspaper bag.”

“I don’t care what Daddy thinks I’m a grown woman, I make my own decisions and Daddy can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.”  Mary said vehemently as she remembered childhood beatings from her alcohol crazed Dad.  What right does he have to judge anybody?  If it weren’t for her Grandma and mom she would have moved out of the house long ago, but they needed someone to keep the old man from taking his anger out on them and she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him and tell him what she thought.  She planned to move her Grandma out when she moved out, but she knew her Mom would never stop being a victim because she didn’t think she could live without Chester. She was an old fashioned woman who thought she needed a man to take care of her.  Chester could barely take care of himself, besides this was 1943 and women were learning how to take care of themselves working in factories and wherever else the men had  worked before so many had been shipped of to fight the Nazis.

Chester entered the room, his fat belly preceded him through door, hanging over the top his underpants and jiggling from side to side as he waddled toward the tub.  He looked at the women in his life in silence, glaring at each one before pulling down his shorts.  He stepped into the tub, farted and squatted down in the hot water.  “Wash my back Pansy.” He said as she took the soap from his uplifted hand.

*****************************************************************************

Later that day as she walked down Oak Street, bound for Carl’s house to talk to his brother, she finalized her plan.  She had hitched a ride into to town with her neighbor, Earl, in his brand new green 1941 Ford One Ton Express pick up truck.  She sure hoped she and Carl would be able to afford a new car someday, new things smelled so nice.  Earl dropped her off at the library telling her he would pick her up in exactly two hours.  At the library she discovered that all she needed to do was show up at the justice of the peace with a consenting Carl.  They could get married after filling out some papers and paying a small fee.  That was all she needed to know to begin her ambush.

She was pensive as she approached the picket fence surrounding the front yard of the Bullock’s small house.  Her plan really depended on Carl’s brother Vern and he wasn’t always ready to be helpful.  As she opened the gate she looked at the front porch and saw him sitting on the porch swing, slowly moving back and forth.  His head had fallen forward on his chest, his usual position when he was sitting on the porch swing.  Vern said he liked to sit there and think, but Mary knew he was asleep.

“Vern, wake up!” She called and was gratified to see Vernon’s body jump, startled by her voice.

“Hey, Mary, what you doing here, Carl isn’t home this weekend, I don’t think he’ll be here for a couple of weeks.” Vernon tells her.

“Thats okay, I want to talk to you.”

Vern’s eyes narrowed and he asked, “What for?”

“I need your help Vern.  Marg told me yesterday that Carl has been called up and I want you to take me to Macomb in your dad’s car.”

“Why do you want to do that?”  Vern asked, “I’m not sure dad will lend me the car, there ain’t much money for gas anyway.  Besides, does Carl know you’re coming?”  

“Look Vern, I’m going to take Carl to the justice of the peace and we are going to get married.  He isn’t going off to the army before that happens.”

“I don’t know Mary, I don’t want to do anything like that.  Carl will ask you someday and then you will get married.”  

“You know Carl and I have been dating since we were sixteen. He loves me and I love him.  Who else is he going to marry?  Besides he might never ask me and he’ll go off to war and maybe never come back.  I couldn’t stand for that to happen to us, but I could stand it better if we were married.  Besides, do you want him to meet some foreign girl and bring her home?  Any way he almost proposed already, he just needs to be pushed a little to remember that.”  She finished and smiled at Vern.

“I believe he loves you Mary, I just don’t want him to be mad at me, but I sure don’t want no foreign sister-in-law.”

“He won’t be mad Vern, after we are married he will be very happy.”  Mary replied sweetly.  “Besides I’ll give you $5.00 to take me to Macomb.”

“Okay, Mary, I’ll borrow a friends car though, I don’t think Dad’s carburetor is working right, but you have to pay for the gas too.  When do you want to go”

“Great, I’ll be here at 8:00 am on Monday morning, Carl only has morning classes on Mondays and I don’t have to work until Tuesday afternoon.  We can get there in plenty of time to go to the justice of the peace in the afternoon then you can stay in Carl’s room that night while we go to a motel and we’ll come back on Tuesday morning.”  She explained to Butch.  And I will make Carl very glad he married me and we will start a whole new life somewhere besides Springfield she thought to herself. 

“Don’t forget,” She told Vernon as she patted him on the cheek, spun around and said over her shoulder, “Eight sharp.”

“Right.” He answered as he watched her walk away.  Carl is in for the surprise of his life, he thought as his head fell forward and his eyes closed.

*****************************************************************************

At noon on Monday the car pulled up in front of Carl’s house in Macomb and Vern honked the horn of the 1940 Chevrolet Special Deluxe 2 door convertible coupe he had borrowed from his friend.  The noisy passengers called out for Carl to come to the door.  Mary sat quietly as she contemplated her next move.  She was glad that Carl’s younger sister Marg, her boyfriend and Carl’s older sister, her husband and their young son Dick had joined the expedition to Macomb with her and her best friend Ruthe.  They were all excited about the wedding, now she hoped Carl would be just as excited.  

Carl came to the door, his hair disheveled and his corduroy slacks and a checkered flannel shirt were wrinkled like he had never ironed them.  He smiled and waved to his family and Mary.  “What the heck are you guys doing here on Monday?” He asked after Vern shut off the engine.  Before anyone could reply Carl’s roommates, Freddy, Harry and Wayne followed each other out the door and stood behind Carl wondering what was going on.

Vernon said, “You better ask Mary.”

Everyone became quiet as Mary opened the door and went to stand in front of Carl.  She looked in his eyes and saw that there was a glint of amusement accompanying the crooked smile she loved so much.  This is going to work she thought, he probably expected me to make the first move anyway.

“Carl, we’ve come for a wedding.” 

“Carl’s smile widened as he asked her, “Who do you know in Macomb getting married?”  

“You” Mary whispered, as she looked up and peered into Carl’s blue eyes where saw the look of amusement change to a look of surprise.

“Mine, what do you mean?”

“Carl, you boys are going to get cleaned up and all of us are going to the justice of the peace where you and I are getting married.  If you remember you said we would get married if you had to go into the army and I hear they’ve called you up.”

“I guess I did promise that.”  Carl remembered.  “It’s just that I expected this happen just before I left.  You caught me too quickly Miss Howard.”  Carl laughed as he looked at Mary and took her small hands in his callused hands and stared into her eyes. “I guess I better make sure you really want to do this.”

“You want to make sure I want to do this?”  Mary said the surprise was in her voice now.  “Why do you think I gathered all this people up and traveled for two hours in this crowded car?”

“Take it easy, you sure get riled up easy.  Just be quiet for a minute.”  Carl looked at Mary as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.  “Okay, here goes.”  He knelt in front of Mary, opening the box while he spoke. “Mary Elizabeth Howard, will you marry me?”  As he finished speaking the box was open and there gleaming in the sun was an engagement ring, with a very small diamond.  “He looked up at Mary expectantly and said, “It isn’t a big one now, but someday we will buy you the one you want.”  

Mary’s mouth was open but no words were coming out.  She reached for the ring and taking out of the box she placed it on her finger.  Carl stood up and Mary put her arms around his waist and pulled him forward.  He bent his neck and his lips found hers.  When they had finished kissing Mary finally spoke.  “I will, Carl, I will marry you and love you forever.”  

Carl smiled and said, for the first time, “I love you too.”

Mary realized that her plan had worked even better than she hoped, for it appeared Carl already had plan for her.  She turned to her friends in the car and held up her hand displaying the ring on her finger.  “Hallelujah,” she giggled the onlookers cheered for her and Carl.  Some bottles of champagne appeared from within the house and they all toasted Carl and Liz.  Then they all began talking and planning the rest of the day as they moved into the house to celebrate the engagement.  Four hours later they were back in the house celebrating the wedding.  That night Mary Elizabeth Bullock made sure Carl Henry Bullock would remember that day with joy.

The Blue Goose

 originally written March 14, 2019

    One of the most amazing places our family was lucky enough to experience was a blue apparition in the Atacama Desert.  It was a collection of living spaces, tents, and metal structures at the crossroads of the Pan American Highway and the turn off to Toquepala which began climb of 8500 feet into the Andes mountains.  It was also a place for the police to stop vehicles to check for something, even if they knew you had nothing.  They might be looking for illegal immigrants, drug activity or maybe they just wanted to harass someone.  The Atacama desert is the second driest desert in the world and the Blue Goose was the name of this hot spot on the ribbon of road cutting through a landscape with the Andes mountains towering over the land to the east and vast stretches of sandy desert running north and south along the coast of the Pacific Ocean to the west.  Vegetation was sparse to non-existent.

    LaWanda and I were working as teachers in Toquepala, the site of a large open pit copper mine 8000 feet above the  blue goose in the Andes Mountain. We lived in pleasant house with our two preschool aged children, close to the school where we worked.  The Blue goose was the first sign of civilization after leaving the mine after driving west for two hours.  The descent was steep causing the road from the mine to twist and turn as the flat plains came closer and closer.  There were spectacular views of the mountains and deserts interspersed with dangerous curves that drew your attention back to the road.  Arriving at the Blue Goose one would turn right and head straight up the coast to New Mexico, if you had a lot of time.  If you turned left the road cut across the Moqueqa Valley and into Tacna the major city of southern Peru, with 5000 inhabitants.  Tacna was a short drive from Arica, Chile, a coastal city where there had been no recorded rainfall and a statue of Bernardo O’Higgins represented the proud heritage of Chileans.

    Our family was frequently stopped at the Blue goose when returning from Tacna.  The police were neither friendly nor hostile, but there was always a sense that they meant business and that being a foreigner was a liability.  My favorite place to stop within the boundaries of the blue goose was a small gas station at the southern end of the habitations.  It was obviously as gas station because there were two gas pumps out front, a covered area over the pumps and a small rectangular building.  When you pulled up to the pumps all you could see was desert to the south, west and east.  The most interesting part of the gas station was that after pulling up to a pump you had to go into the building and the attendant would pour about 5 gallons of gasoline into container from a metal barrel in the office.  Then you would carry the gas out to your car and put it into the the gas tank.

    During one trip I was pouring gas into the tank of my Brazilian Volkswagon, while LaWanda and the kids dozed in the heat.  I was staring at the void that was the desert when, through the shimmering heat waves, I spotted an emerging man with a donkey.  My thought, was de donde vine?  There was no civilization in that direction.  The figure kept walking toward the highway and eventually I could discern that it was an elderly man with a long goatee wearing a wide brimmed hat with a serape thrown over his shoulder.  He looked like a Mexican Paisano not a Peruvian Indian.  He kept walking, his donkey following heading right for the highway.  They crossed the road and keep walking into the desert and I watched him until he could no longer be seen.  

    I have often thought of that man and his donkey and wondered where he came from and where he was going.  As far as I knew the Blue Goose was right smack dab in the middle of nowhere.  He probably knew a lot more about what was out there than I will ever know or perhaps can imagine.  Although I can try. 

Peru was a wonderfully strange place!

A Chance Encounter Creates a Lifetime of Bliss

His Story

     There I was hitchhiking home after a day in town.  It was a chilly day in February and snow was drifting from the sky obscuring the mountains where I lived.  Hitchhiking can be a lonely business and sometimes there are long periods of time between rides.  Since I was going to the mountains, not only did I anticipate it would take a long time, I was sure it would entail several rides and freezing interludes.

     I was staring at the cars stopped at the light and saw a beat up old Chevy waiting for the signal to change to green.  I could make out a pretty girl at the wheel and that sent my mind into fantasyland.  Every hitchhiker has dreams of something exciting happening during the trip.  Little did I realize that my dreams were about to come true in a way I didn’t imagine happening. 

     The old Chevy pulled away when the light turned green and I stuck my thumb out.  I was amazed when the car actually pulled over and stopped.  I ran up to the passenger’s side of the car opened the door and saw a truly lovely young woman who asked me if I wanted a ride.  I certainly did.  I jumped in the car, shut the door and we took off.  She asked where I was going and I told her that I lived on the other side of the mountains.  I offered her a cup of hot chocolate if she would drive me all the way home.  I was stunned when she agreed.

    As we headed out of town on Route 66, I looked at her and noticed that her legs looked pretty good pushing the brake and clutch.  As we talked I heard her say that she was a teacher.  I thought that was wonderful, as I was unemployed and had no idea what I wanted to be.  After four years in the Marine Corps, I wasn’t even certain I could hold down a job!  She then told me she loved to cook!  As a young man living on my own that was probably the most appealing thing she could have said.  My mind was reeling with my incredible luck and I thought this is the girl I want to marry.

     As luck would have it, the snowfall quickened it’s pace causing the mountain road to become slick and difficult to traverse.  I asked her if she wanted me to drive and she said yes.  After changing places I began driving and thinking about this young woman and hoping that her feeling about me were about the same as mine about her.  Soon, I approached the turn off to the road that would lead to my house.  I didn’t want the ride to end and luckily, I lost control of the car and it skidded into a snow bank as we were turning into my driveway.  We were stuck!  We quickly ran to the house and we both realized she wouldn’t be able to leave that evening.  I didn’t have any chocolate but what a wonderful night we had talking and learning about each other. 

    Within six weeks we were married and together we have raised three children, pursued careers as educators and had the opportunity to travel around the world working as teachers in overseas schools.   I often think about how lucky I have been and believe firmly in love at first sight.

Her Story

    I moved to Albuquerque after graduating as a result of hundreds of applications and resulting correspondence. I had no job and my car broke down the first day in town. Fortunately a couple noticed my KS license plates and stopped to help. As fate would have it Mary Francis had relatives in a little farming community outside of Topeka where I had done my student teaching. She was four months pregnant, had 2 preschool age boys, her husband worked in Los Alamos, and she just learned she had cancer of the uterus. I had no job, a small u-haul of personal effects, and my cat and dog. They offered me a place to live while I looked for work in exchange for helping Mary Francis around the house and with the kids. After about 6 months, I had a job, Brian was transferred back to Albuquerque, the baby arrived, and Mary Francis's mother moved in with them. 

    One day on the way home from work, I saw a hitchhiker who looked cold. While sitting at the red light I debated as to whether I should pick him up or not when it started to snow, I picked him up. I was only going to take him to the last major intersection where I turned off, but he asked if I would drive him out Tijeras. We were having an interesting conversation so I agreed. The snow was getting bad by the time we got there and there was very little other traffic so I offered to drive him on home. Well, my car ended up getting stuck. Rick borrowed a neighbor's truck to get me to work the next day. He still had my car so I had to see him again. I moved in two days latter; we were married 6 weeks later and have been happy with that decision ever since.

All In The Family

“Your Grandpa was a bitter man, I don’t think anyone really loved him except my little step-grandma.” Mary told her son. “She was the one who raised him, even though he hated her for doing it.”  

Mary lived in  a clean house, clean body and clean mind.  Her father’s behavior did not match the values she developed.  She wasn't fashionable in the way she dressed but she was conscious of her public perception, she never mixed stripes and polka dots nor orange and red. Her convictions were steadfast and irrevocable.  God help the person who wanted to change her.  She was not  so much beautiful, but pleasing to look at.  She took charge of her life and all who entered were a part of the realm she ruled. 

“Why was he bitter Mom,” her son asked.

“Because I wasn’t a boy,” she replied.  “he really wanted a son and he treated me like I was one.  I had to do farm work like I was a hired hand.  After being in the one-roomed school house all day, I had to come home to slop the pigs, feed the chickens, and work in the garden.”

It didn’t sound like an easy life, her son thought, but be couldn’t understand his Mom talking about Grandpa like that.  They had lived in California when he was in grade school and the family would visit Springfield every summer to visit his Mom and Dad’s parents and siblings.  It was the big vacation usually lasting three weeks, driving cross country from California to Springfield in their Plymouth station wagon watching the trip in arrears from the backward facing rear seat.  Fighting with his brother and sister, testing their Mom and Dad’s patience with their bickering and complaining.  These were  the types of summers beautiful memories are built upon.  

“That doesn’t sound so bad Mom, working on a farm!”  Her son told her.

She just laughed as she took stock of her son. He really doesn’t know how tough life can be, she thought.  We have sheltered him in this military life moving from place to place.  Here we are in Japan, whoever thought we would live in such an exotic place.

She looked at her son again and remembered why she was telling him about his Grandpa.  He was turning out a lot like that bitter, dirty son of  bitch who treated her mother and sweet little step-Grandma like servants.  Her too, she pondered.  She knew she had a lot her Dad in her, but that had helped her to survive his brutality.  Now her son was beginning to follow the path that had destroyed her young life.  She knew he was out drinking, maybe even whoring, God knows it’s easy enough in Japan to do both, how many of her friend’s husbands were doing the same thing.  Maybe if he knows the truth about his Grandpa it will stop his fall.

“It was hard, really hard.” she told him.  “All of us living in that little green house surrounded by acres and acres of corn, no plumbing, no toilets, miles from town, and there was always work to do.  My daddy made me crank up that old Model A Ford every time he drove it because he was too lazy to do it himself.  Even after that cold morning when the crank kicked back and broke my arm, after it healed he would call me outside to get the car started while he sat behind the wheel.  I guess it was better than having my Mom do it.” 

Her son wasn't listening, he was remembering Springfield and the memorable summers.  He recalled  how content it felt on those hot summer nights, sitting on the back porch of the green shingled two story farmhouse while the corn crept right up to the narrow lawn defining civilization on the farm. Sometimes there were bursts of fireworks in the dark sky above the corn from the state fair and he would lazily watch each eruption brighten the sky while listening to Grandpa and Uncle Pearl talk about WWI, politics, the state of the world in general and he would occasionally wonder why Uncle Pearl wanted to chew something he kept spitting into the cup next to his chair.  Meanwhile Grandma and Aunt Minnie would gossip about their siblings and cousins as their worn out bodies rocked gently in metal lawn chairs as every bug on the farm was making a pilgrimage to the dim porch light.  Sometimes he and his brother would walk out into the lawn and catch a jar full of lightening bugs whose brightly lit tails never ceased to amaze and delight two boys from the city.  

“I know you love your Grandpa, but you need to know what he was like.   When I was a little girl he did terrible things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Well, one time,  when I was about 9 or 10 years old, I was working in the garden,” she began, “and I stepped on top of some carrots crushing their tops.  My Daddy began yelling and cursing at me, then as I was squatting over the damaged carrots, he kicked me right in the butt with his steel toed boots and sent me flying.  I landed on my face in the dirt.”  

He wasn’t surprised by that revelation.  His Mom had used many different instruments on his butt to make a point, true she didn’t curse but she did yell at him.  When she did that she scared him, but he was used to it.  He wondered about his Grandpa remembering the photo album and other memories residing on that little farm that he explored during summer vacations. 

Mary continued speaking to him, relating; how her Dad beat her Mom and how her step-Grandma had to be protected from the man she had nurtured, how he would come home demanding a hot meal late at night and make Grandma fix him one, how she had left home after she found a place for her Grandma,  how her Daddy had a fight with his Dad in the streets of Springfield, how Mom had called the police and had her Dad arrested.  

As the story went on and on, her son’s mind began to wander, maybe in rejection of the story he was being told, maybe because his mind always wandered.

Probably because he was young and the future was always brighter than the past.  He was thinking about the party planned for that night and wondered if his mother would give him permission to go out tonight.  Some of the guys from the football team had asked to go with them to a place they knew about to drink some beer.  

“Your Grandpa was an unhappy man, one night Daddy came home late and brought a woman home with him.  He was raging drunk, cursing and yelling at everyone until he fell down and passed out on the floor.  The woman with him just as drunk, but she just sat at the kitchen table laughing at all of us.  My Mom drove the woman home and never said a word about her.   In the morning, he made me get up and fix him breakfast.”  Mary stopped speaking and looked at her son.  She was sure she was getting through to him because he looked so serious. 

The target of her story looked up and said, “Wow, that sounds terrible.”  

“Is it alright if I go out with some of the guys from the team tonight?” he asked. 

Wearily she looked at him wondering how this story would affect him as she answered, “I suppose so, your Dad and I are going to meet the our friends for dinner at the Officer’s club tonight.  Just be home by midnight.”

“Okay, Mom, thanks.”   He said as he headed to his room.

“And Ricky, think about what I just told you.” she said.

“Sure, I will.”  came the reply as he closed the door to his room.

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The juke box in the bar at the Officer’s Club was filled with the music of Frank Sinatra and the men who oversee the operations at the base.  Carl and Mary were sitting a small table in the dim, smoke filled room.  They were drinking their first martinis of the evening as they waited for their friends to arrive, when they would move into the dining room.  Mary touched Carl’s hand to get his attention and they moved their heads closer together as she said, ‘I told our son about my Dad today.”

“Uh huh” Carl replied.

“ He needed to hear the story, he’s old enough to understand and learn about the bad things that happen with alcohol.”

“Okay,” Carl replied as he watched his boss at the bar tossing down a shot of whiskey then drowning that with a long drink from his glass of beer.  He was wondering how to tell Mary that Dewey hadn’t recommended him for promotion.  She would be pissed.  

“Carl, are you paying attention to me?” Mary demanded.

“Uh, yes, you told Ricky about your Dad.” He said as he sipped his Martini and looked around the bar.

“You know he is drinking and smoking and I worry he’ll up like his Grandpa.”  She said as she looked at her husband.  “Someone has to talk to him about his behavior, and I thought this might grab his attention better than confronting him.”

“What did he say?” he said as he lit the cigarette Mary had put into her mouth.

She sucked in the smoke and expelled it while she replied, ‘Not much, I am not sure how well it went, you know he hasn’t been paying much attention to us lately.”

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Their son was standing in a circle of boys with their orange letterman’s jackets on, sucking the brew out of a can of Sapporo.  They had been drinking steadily for the past thirty minutes.  They were at an outdoor shrine that had no meaning for any of the American boys except that it was a quiet place where they were out of sight and not likely be disturbed while they drank to drunkedness.  They were swaying and singing the lyrics to one of the new Beatle songs that was popular on Armed Forces Radio.  Everyone was talking to everyone else and no one was hearing anything anyone said.  

He was as drunk as he had ever been.  His thoughts turned to his parents and he worried that he might not get home before them.  If they caught him in this state they would ground him for weeks.  He remembered his talk with Mom that afternoon and a toast seemed appropriate.  “All right guys,” He yelled to get everyone’s attention.  “All right” he said again as they all turned to listen to him.  “I want to propose a toast to my drunken Grandpa.”  He raised his beer to his mouth and chugged the remaining liquid into his body. 

“Here, Here,”  The football team yelled in tribute,  “To Ricky’s drunken Grandpa!”  They chugged their beers, threw the cans on the ground, and broke out of the circle to go get another one.