U00 The Three B's Table of Content

U01 The Three B's
U02 Memories
U03 Evening
U04 The Day of Ice
U05 That Night
U06 Old Mr. Brown
U07 Eavesdropping
U08 The Last Entry

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L03U01 The Three B's

"I suppose you would like to know what the Three B's stands for?",
and a year old golden retriever wagged her tail enthusiastically. Old Mr. Brown gave her to me two weeks ago and she was now accustom to our routine. I was bringing her up to date on my life. "Well, come along to the garden while I pick three ears of corn, two tomatoes, and a pot of pole beans for Kate, she'll be here in about two hours and I'll tell you."
The Three B's stands for Barb, Bob, and Bill, that's me. Our nick names were Beautiful, Bountiful, and Brains. We were born and raised in Middleville. We didn't leave home to go to college, we commuted to state, some thirty miles away. After graduation, we worked for Old Mr. Brown at the only manufacturing plant in town.
Kate always comes home on this day every year. She left Middleville to go to college and then to work. I received a letter from her earlier this week saying she was coming and asking if her room was ready as always. She said she had made up her mind, she knew what she wanted to do with the rest of her life and she would tell me about it when she arrived.
What's special about today? Well it's an anniversary of sorts, a sad anniversary. Thirty years ago today, on a morning just like this one, with a bright blue autumn sky, the golden sunlight evaporating the mist from between the hills, they drove off to a State football game. I didn't go because I didn't want to leave until a new press was installed at the plant. It was the first time we had not gone somewhere together and they never returned.
My steps slowed, my feet were heavy, tears came, one managed to slide down my cheek. "Oh, Barb and Bob why did you have to die without me? We always did everything together." After a short hesitation, "I know. Someone had to take care of Kate."
I turned my head because I didn't want Girl to see that or hear me. It still hurts after thirty years. Sunset is the worst because they were supposed to be home by sunset. I waited and waited, but they never came, only a state police officer. It was his unpleasant duty to tell me what happened.
We will never know exactly what did happen, only the result. A truck driver lost control of his rig for some reason, the truck slid across the road on a curve at the bottom of a hill and smashed our car into the embankment. The trailer jack knifed and turned over blocking the road. Traffic was heavier than usual because of the football game and it took the police two hours just to get to the scene. One wrecker couldn't right the trailer and the drainage ditch on the other side of the road was too deep and to steep to let traffic pass.
Our car and most of the cab of the truck was completely destroyed. It was late afternoon when they finally recovered the license plate of our car. It was the only means of identifying them, they and the truck driver were beyond recognition and couldn't be removed from the wreckage. Cutting torches removed the bodies the next day.
Since legally, I was only a friend, I was the last person of the families to be notified. The officer talked with Barb's parents first and then with Bob's, her parents went with him. They all went to my parents home to tell them and to ask if they knew where I was. The officer called, but I was not at home and by the time he called the plant I was on my way home. After he talked to all the parents and understood the situation as best he could in such a short time and receiving the information from people in shock, he decided he better talk to me personally.
When he drove into the yard I knew what had happened. I shook his hand and told him he didn't have to tell the story again, the families would, they drove into the yard shortly after he did. It was a good thing he left when he did because he was barely out of sight when our friends started to arrive. Within fifteen minutes people were walking over a mile to reach our home. Our yard, driveway, and road was log jammed with cars. Many people just left their keys in their cars and rode with someone else when they were ready to leave.
I have never cried as much as I did that night, not even for grandmother or the 'Year of Black', the year five of our grandparents died. Talk about a wake, it lasted until three days after the funeral. I'd swear the whole adult population of Middleville came to our home that night, all four thousand of them. Later, I was glad they came because neither I nor any of the families could sleep and with that many people there was always someone available for conversation.
Our housekeeper, Mildred, and the sisters took turns taking care of Kate, she was less than a year old at the time. Old friends helped Mildred move in the next day. She took charge of our home and kept control until Kate left for college. Then she retired and left to live with her niece in California. She was instrumental in my being Kate's legal guardian.
We had so much food, she sent it back with the person who brought it. She made sure Kate and I were OK and the families ate as much as they would. She answered the phone, wrote all the letters and did almost everything around the house until I began to recover some two weeks later.
My recovery began the day after Old Mr. Brown brought the first golden retriever to me. Old Mr. Brown was only ten years my senior, the title was one of respect, not age. No one addressed him that way, they always left out the 'old'. When he returned from the war his jet black hair had turned snow white, he looked old, that's when people started to refer to him as Old Mr. Brown.
There was no involuntary unemployment in Middleville, anyone who lived in Middleville could always work for Old Mr. Brown. He and his family took care of the people of Middleville. He didn't run the town, he let the people do that, he didn't even manage his own plant, he hired qualified managers. He was the director of personnel and he spent most of his time listening to his people.
Our families were poor because our fathers were supporting their extended families in addition to their own, even our mothers worked when they could. We lived in the last three houses on the same side of Old Mill Road, the farthest from the plant. We lived on the other side of the tracks as some would say. Our parents played cards on Friday night, danced to music on the radio in one of the dining rooms on Saturday night, and following Sunday afternoon dinner we sang around the piano, Bob's mother gave lessons. In good weather we walked to church together.
We were born one month apart in the spring and since that time we spent most of our free time together. We played together, we walked to school together, studied together, and worked together. Only death and illness could keep us apart. We spent so much time together that Barb's father replaced the floor of the hay loft of the old barn he used as a garage, so we could be together without interrupting our families because we were so boisterous.
Life was very enjoyable even with our frugal family life. We were almost always laughing, arguing loud, or teasing one another. As soon as the new floor was laid, we moved our Monopoly game, our comic books, our collections, our telescope, and our crystal radio to the loft. Later her father put an electric light in the loft and a wood stove on the dirt floor beneath it.
We did all the things children do and then some. When we were not exploring the air waves or the night sky, we explored the rivers and hills around Middleville. We hiked and camped together, we socialized together, we played music together. We played the piano, in addition Barb played the violin, Bob the trumpet, and I the clarinet. We sang together, we went to church together. We were in the band and choir together.
We didn't understand why it shocked our parents and our community when we told them we were going to live together after we graduated from college. The people knew about us, they knew almost everything about us, like any small town, but they didn't know as much about us as we thought. We were different from the other children in several ways.
One accepted way was our competitiveness. We were always trying to out do one another and yet we always supported one another. We were always at the top of the honor roll, always on the first chair in music or choir, the lead roles in drama, athletics, etc. Second, we listened to adults, they didn't mind if we were around.
In unaccepted ways also, like the pranks we pulled, the things we stole, and some of the things we did. The towns folk would be mad at us, but only for a little while, then the would say, 'the three B's are at it again', and laugh.
When we asked for help, they would help, it was as if they wanted to be apart of our next prank even though they didn't have any idea how their help fit into our plan. I still chuckle at some of those things, like the time we stole the mayor's wig, the fire chief's hat, and the police chief's jail keys and ran them up the court house flag pole or the time we put a dead skunk in the high school air conditioning system, but the best one was when we turned a half ton statue backwards the day before Memorial Day and no noticed until the mayor began his speech. The whole town laughed and of course he couldn't understand because his speech was very serious. When he first turned and looked at the statue, he didn't notice what was wrong and when he turned back to the audience, they just roared. It wasn't funny and yet it was. You should've seen his face when he looked at the statue a second time.
We hid behind the base drum so only a few could see us laugh, of course we were there, we were in the marching band. Everyone knew who did it, no one else was capable. The next day a rumor went around town, if the statue was returned to its original position by the Forth of July, nothing would happen to the perpetrators. We weren't worried because no one could prove we did it. During a thunderstorm on a June night we turned the statue and no one learned how we did it and we never told. On the Forth, the mayor looked at the statue twice before he began to speak and the crowd roared both times.
We did some naughty things, like stealing fruit from our neighbor's gardens and orchards and soaping windows on Halloween, but not much worse than that. What the towns people objected to most was our life style. We differed from the other children in another very important way, we became non-conformists the day after we learn to swim and our parents didn't interfere with out life style because we were 'good children' and we excelled. The other boys wouldn't let us swim with them, first they didn't want to associate with Bob and I because we played with a girl, yuk, and second their parents didn't want them swimming nude with a girl.
We didn't understand at the time, the three of us had been playing together since we could crawl, our bodies were not foreign to one another. We played all the childhood games like house, mommy and daddy, doctor, and show me your 'thing' and I'll show you mine. What was the big deal?
We learned when Barb's breasts began to develop. Barb was a homely as a mud fence until she was sixteen and she was a tom boy her entire life. She had her growth spurt much sooner than the other girls, she was lean and lanky, taller than most boys two years older, and very athletic. She could do many things other girls couldn't and she would not behave like a lady, so the other girls avoided her. Barb never indicated to me in any way that she missed the other girls. She was one of us, the three B's, that was more than enough.
Since the boys didn't want to play with us and the girls didn't want to play with Barb, we were isolated from our peer group; therefore no peer pressure, we went our own way, did our own thing, and did it our way.
As we grew older the other children not only avoided us, they were afraid of us and for good reason. We were experimenting with explosives and electricity. We scared many a student with electric shocks or fulminated mercury exploding beneath their feet.
The day after we learned to swim, we swam nude at Lover's Cove and did so the rest of our lives together. I still do. Lover's Cove was up stream from Bare Butt Beach and it was more secluded. Many weeds grew where a small stream joined the Middle Branch river and among the weeds leeches lived. People didn't go to Lover's Cove to swim.
Up stream from the weed bed, the stream widened to form the cove with a sand bottom and wide sand beaches on both sides. Steep hills enclosed the stream and the cove on both sides. On the north beach stood an old tree, one branch nearly spanned the cove. We stole a rope, I don't know why, almost anyone would have given us one, and hung it from the limb. We had our own private beach and we swam every warm day.
We took a salt shaker, a jar, and towels, but that was all. If we found a leach on our bodies we removed it with salt and put it in the jar for study or our next prank. I don't know how many times our mothers fainted when we mistakenly left the jar in a kitchen and they picked it up and saw a leach staring at them.
I don't recall anyone of us ever being aroused by our nudity, but body heat was another matter. The towns people were upset because we swam nude together, I wonder if they ever considered how we slept when we went camping. Only a few people raised an eye brow when they learned we slept together when we camped, the others must have assumed we slept near one another. We slept near one another, very near.
Each of us had one sheet and one blanket. In warm weather, we slept separately, but in cold weather, we put one blanket on top of our ground cloth, the salvage of an old tent found on one of our hikes and stored on the floor of the loft. We made a pillow by placing our shoes in a row in the center of a piece of oil cloth at top of the blanket, folded our clothes and placed them on top of our shoes, the oil cloth was folded over our clothes. We lay naked on the blanket and pulled the other two blankets on top of us and then pulled all three sheets on top of the blankets. If we were still cold, we turned on to our sides facing the same direction and cuddled tight together.
When we were young this sleeping arrangement didn't bother us. As we grew older, we were disturbed now and then by body heat until we resolved the issue of sex and the sleeping arrangement never bothered us again.
Experienced outdoor campers would understand the premium we placed on having dry clothes the next morning. We didn't want them damp with perspiration or dew. We didn't carry extra clothes until Old Mr. Brown gave us back packs.
Because we were isolated from our peer group, we had to learn everything from our school lessons or on our own. By eighth grade we had passed the educational level of all the adults in our homes. We were lucky, a few adults besides our parents were very instrumental in our lives, some by example and others by what they told us. Barb's maternal grandmother was the most important influence in our lives. Old Mr. Brown was second and he claimed we influenced him more than he did us. If we influenced him by an ounce, he influenced us by a ton.
The first adults outside our families to influence us was police chief Andre Bates and the city attorney Lloyd Blackmoore. No one used their names not even the newspaper, they were referred to as the Chief and the Attorney. They talked to us and tried to impress upon us that we were walking a fine line between fun and trouble with the legal system. The Attorney didn't talk to us again until after we became friends with Old Mr. Brown, but the Chief gave us a lecture and a ride home at least once a year.
After a Saturday breakfast I joined Barb and her grandmother on her back porch. Bob was late. When he finally arrived he said, "Sorry, but I couldn't talk my mother out of having to do a chore." "How much time did you waste trying to talk her out of doing it?" She never looked up from her knitting and she didn't interrupt her rocking.
"What?"
"What do you mean grandmother?"
"How much time did Bob spend trying to talk his mother out of making him do the chore and how long did it take to do the chore?"
"Well Bob, how long did it take?"
"About five minutes of talk and less than a minute to do the chore." We looked at each other.
"And how did you feel after you lost the argument and how did your mother feel?"
"Not very good."
"Your parents are busy people, they can't afford to waste five minutes." It was obvious to us that grandmother was not going to say any more, so we left for the loft.
The first thing we did was to agree to never make a personal comment where other people could hear us, a decision that further isolated us from other people, especially our brothers and sisters. We spent the rest of the morning arguing about what grandmother wanted us to learn from her brief conversation. We didn't spend much time reevaluating wasting time, the simple arithmetic made that obvious. Her other points took a while longer.
Before we left for lunch we decided to do an experiment. We would do what ever our parents asked, write down the time spent on the chore and how we felt and how we thought our parents felt. We would compare notes every Saturday until we concluded the experiment. That was the beginning of our social awareness, our scientific inquiry, and our own style of inquiry. We concluded the experiment three months later. We did save time as the arithmetic indicated and we did feel better. We thought our parents felt better too, but it was difficult to tell. The only down side to the experiment was that our parents gave us more chores when we stopped arguing with them. No one likes to do more work.
Her last point about our busy parents was even more difficult for us. She helped us again when we asked her another question. She said, "I can't answer that question, I don't know facts, I only know people."
"Then tell us about people."
"You will learn more if you learn it yourself."
"How?"
"First, watch what people do, then watch how they do it, then listen to what they say about what they did." By following her advice we learned what she meant about our busy parents and we learned to use what we learned, something many people never learn.
We quickly learned that we couldn't remember all the details of what we saw and heard, we had to take notes, reinforcing our first experiment and set one facet of our style for life, taking notes.
On Saturday we compared notes and evaluated them. We wrote a summary, of what we learned and did, in our log book. After the first week, it was obvious that we had to narrow our focus, we spent to much time sorting out the different people and activities. After a month of observing our mothers, we understood grandmothers implication. Our parents were doing all the work and we did very little.
We increased the number of chores we did and received a surprising bonus. Some of the new chores we could not do by ourselves, we had to have some one help us. Usually our mothers helped us, they talked with us, we developed a relationship with our mothers, one that was not there before we added the new chores, we enjoyed it.
One thing puzzled us after we compared our notes over several months. We thought we had made an error or we forgot to write down some of the time spent doing chores. We started to include the date of each chore in our notes, but the result was the same. We did more chores, we talked more, and yet we still had nearly the same amount of free time. How could that be?
We asked grandmother and she replied in her usual terse manner, "Many hands make a heavy load light." We had proven a proverb. We could not conceal our satisfaction. We couldn't wait to try another experiment. Each time we tested and proved some truth, we enjoyed as much satisfaction as before, some times more. School and home work ceased to be a chore. Our competitiveness increased, we had a new goal, a new point of view.
Our parents and our teachers could see the change. We had always liked school, but now school was not something we had to do, it was something we wanted to do. We knew we didn't know enough to improve the way our parents did things, but we did lighten their work load a little. We agreed to take care of our part of our shared bedrooms.
My mom was never satisfied with the result of my work. My bed was never made right and my part of the room was never neat enough. Once I put the top sheet on upside down and the seam showed when I folded it down over the blankets. My mother was very upset and I asked, "Why?"
"That's not how it's done in 'Good Housekeeping' or 'House Beautiful' and it's not the way I was taught."
Without thinking I threw my hand to my forehead palm out and staggered as if I was about to faint, "Oh my God, we'll be gigged by 'Good Housekeeping' and 'House Beautiful' will not feature our home in the next issue."
She froze, her face stern and then smiling she threw her arms around me, hugged me, and laughed. "OK son, this is your part of the house. Do it your way."
"Mom don't iron my sheets, please, all I will do is wrinkle them again."
"As you wish."
My relationship with my mother reached another level, I was now an adult in her eyes. I told the other B's and they had similar results over the following months. We discussed her statement, 'It's not how I was taught', ad infinitum and we came to some good conclusions, very good for young minds. I started the discussion by asking, "I wonder how much work our parents do that is unnecessary, but it was the way they were taught. In fact, it maybe a problem for all of us not just our parents."
Bob responded, "Nice analysis, Brains," and that is how I received my nick name. As an engineer, 'That's not how I was taught', was a constant obstacle as I tried to retrain the plant people to make the work more efficient or to use new equipment. It was easier to train a new hire than to retrain a long time employee. Old Mr. Brown helped me change my technique, after the change it was a little easier to retrain long time employees.
Bob received his nick name because ideas flowed out of his mouth like fruits and vegetables from a cornucopia from the moment he woke until he went to sleep. One rainy day, Bob made sixty suggestions of what we could do in less than five minutes. Barb stared at him for a few seconds and said, "OK, Bountiful."
"What do you mean?", and she told him. Barb received her nick name, when we tried to assemble our first radio. Each time Bob or I tried to assemble it, it would not work. Barb had not shown any interest, "Let me try, I can't stand to see you two so dejected." We told her what to do and it worked the first time. We both looked at her and exclaimed, "Your Beautiful." She glowed. We had the same problem with our first reflector telescope. Again she succeeded when we had failed and again we call her 'Beautiful'.
The nick names strengthened the bonds between us and reinforced our abilities. Bob generated ideas, I did the analysis, and Barb did the synthesis. We did all three, but each one was a little better than the others in that one area.
Girl started to prance and I looked up. "Kate's here. She must've been in a hurry, look at that cloud of dust.
You've never met her have you, Girl. Let's go and meet her."

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L03U02 Memories

Kate and Girl greeted one another long before I could get there. Kate took her things into the house and came back out to greet me. She gave me a kiss and a great big hug. I returned both. "You're traveling light."
"As I told you in my letter I have decided what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, well I've decided to have a baby. I figured I would need a new wardrobe so I sold or gave away everything else."
"A baby! Are you pregnant? Are you married?"
"Yes. No. No."
"Who's the lucky guy? Do I know him? When will I meet him?"
"Is it OK for a woman to marry a man much older?"
"Once a woman is over twenty eight it doesn't matter how old the man is. But tell me what happened? How did you come to this decision?"
"I broke up with my boyfriend after our last date. We were necking and petting very heavy. When he slid his hand under my skirt, I stopped him and not very nicely either. He looked puzzled. I told him, 'I feel ill. Would you take me home?' We didn't talk and I did not give him a good night kiss. 'I'll call you tomorrow.' He didn't get out of the car and drove away before I could get inside. My roommate, Ann said, 'What's that all about? He's never done that before.'
I told her what happened. 'Were you ill?' 'When his hand slid above my knee, I couldn't stand his touch, I turned ice cold. I didn't want his hands on me. I wanted to get away from him.'
'What are going to do now? You told me you wanted a baby.'
'I'll call him in the morning and break our engagement.'
'I agree with that, I certainly wouldn't marry a man I didn't want to touch me.' When she said that I remembered a man I had always wanted to touch me and I knew what I was going to do.
The next day I called by boyfriend. 'I know what you are going to say. Keep the ring.'
'You can pick it up from Ann after I leave.' The next Monday I gave notice and took my vacation. During the week I took care of details and by this morning I couldn't wait to leave. I drove like a bat out of hell. Enough about me. I would like to walk around the house and yard."
She took my hand and guided me. We went into each room including the basement and garage. She took in everything, she looked at the ceilings, the floors, the walls, and everything in each room. She touched or held familiar things. As we walked outside, "Oh, it's so good to be home again." We walked all around the house and the yard and returned to the garage. "Can we sit a while at the top of the hill next to the garden?"
"The day is yours. Why not?" I took two lawn chairs from the garage and we walked to the garden. Girl ran first in one direction and returned, then ran in another direction and returned. When we reached the garden, Girl ran around the garden several times. We unfolded the chairs and sat. "My biological clock is ticking, I need to have my children soon and I can't think of a better place to raise a family." Girl returned and put her head in Kate's lap. Reflexively Kate petted her head. "How many has Old Mr. Brown given you?"
"Three, I couldn't think of a name I liked so I called her 'Girl', I guess that will be her name."
"Didn't the Browns raise horses as well as dogs?"
"No, only dogs, hunting dogs. The Browns were hunters, millers, and builders, never farmers. They built the first dam and the first mill and many of the first houses. When the large mills made the small mills unprofitable, they built a new dam to generate electricity and tore down the old mill and built a manufacturing plant in its place. During the war the plant was enlarged many times its original size. No, the Browns never raised any thing except dogs."
"I'm warm, I'd like something to drink." She stood, "Can I get you something?"
"The temperature is much higher than the forecast." I looked at my watch. "It's almost noon, let's eat lunch." We folded the chairs and returned to the house with Girl running to the house and back to us several times. After lunch Kate asked, "Could we take a bike ride around Middleville?"
"Sure." We took the bikes from the garage. "Where would you like to go?"
"How about riding past your childhood home and then around town?"
"Lead the way." She did. We rode down Old Mill Road toward town and stopped across the rode from the three houses. They look the same and yet different. Different people lived there now. All of the older generations were dead. Only one brother was still at home when I was in high school, the rest of my siblings had married and moved away. I barely knew them while I was growing up. I was the youngest and four years separated me from the next youngest. I developed an adult relationship with them after college. Barb's sisters were younger, but they married and left home before Kate was born. Bob was an only child. His aunt and uncle died while we were in college.
Something else was different, but I didn't know what it was until Kate spoke, "The old barn is gone." In its place stood a brand new garage.
"And our old antenna." A series of memories flashed through my mind. Kate had heard the story many times about how Barb had assembled our first radio. Bob and I were all thumbs. We picked cherries, strawberries, and raspberries so we could buy a better receiver. We spent hours listening to different frequencies while we played board games or played Old Maid or read comic books. Several months after we began keeping a log, we heard the first of many cryptic messages.
'B2 calling B3.'
'B3 over.'
'B1 got stung.'
'B3 Roger.'
We recorded the message, the time, and the frequency. When ever we were in the loft and were not doing anything in particular with the receiver, we left it tuned to that frequency while we did something else. We didn't hear another message for several months, then 'B3 calling B1.'
'B1 over.'
'I'm out of honey can we meet tonight?'
'Roger.'
'B2 I read you B3. Over.'
'Thanks B2. Out.'
The transmissions were always very short and infrequent. When we went hiking the signals were very weak, they had to be local broadcasts. We didn't know of any other radio operators in Middleville except for the Chief, his car had 'ears'. We looked for antennas when we were walking around town. We were surprised to learn that Old Mr. Brown and the Attorney were the only other cars in town with 'ears'. Those three men never socialized with one another. The only time we or anyone we asked had ever seen them together was at the Memorial Day ceremonies. The possible connection between the three men and the meaning of the messages puzzled us.
"Why did the poor people live the furthest from the plant when you were a boy?"
"We were poor, that's for sure, we didn't have a book in the house not even a Bible. Later, our mothers read and traded love story magazines. Cars were the reason, very few people could afford one. Most people walked, a few still had horses. Milk, ice, and groceries were delivered by horse drawn wagons. Our fathers walked to work. The wealthier people could afford to buy land and houses close to the plant so they didn't have to walk so far.
Barb's father bought a car a year before the war. Bob's dad bought one about two years after the war and mine bought one another year after that."
"Enough memories for now?", and she rode off.
"Yes."
It was amazing how in tune she was with me. She rode quickly, I had to work to keep up with her. She rode to Water street and across the bridge above the dam to the park next to the river and stopped opposite the court house. She parked her bike and sat on a bench facing the statue. I rode up and did the same. The statue was of Old Mr. Brown's ancestor, a marksman from the revolutionary war, the founder of Middleville. Every shooting title in the state had been won by a Brown at one time or another, he held many of those titles before he enlisted in world war II. When he returned he moved into his own home and left all of his guns and trophies with his parents.
"I have to give the Browns credit, not only were they good marksmen, but they did a good job laying out Middleville. I've always enjoyed this park since I can first remember. You brought me here when I was six. You tried to to teach me to skip stones on the water, but I was too young. Later, I liked to climb on the statue base and around its legs while you read a book at this bench. I was never tall enough to reach the rifle old Mr. Brown's ancestor was firing, you always had to lift me so I could touch it." She got up and walked across Brown Avenue to the statue, I followed. She walked around it a couple of times and then tried to touch the rifle, her fingers missed by a few inches.
"Sorry, Kate, I can't lift you. My muscles aren't what they used to be."
"That's all right, it was a pleasant memory." She took my hand and led me around the court house square and back to the bench. "Didn't my mother recite an essay in front of the statue?"
"Yes. Each year the Daughters of the American Revolution sponsor an essay contest for the eighth grade. The winner is invited to present the essay at the Memorial Day ceremony. She won with an essay on how Billy 'Bull' Brown saved the last three original members of a commando unit. It was based on the official military news release. It didn't make sense, how could Billy save anyone, he couldn't shoot, even the Browns would say, 'He couldn't hit the broad side of a barn standing inside of it.' The newspaper printed her essay the week before and it was the only Memorial Day ceremony that Old Mr. Brown didn't attend." She got up and walked to her bike, "She must have been proud."
"She was." Kate rode in a large circle through the west side residential area and stopped at a bench on the north side of the park in front of the high school.
"The Browns decision to donate this tract of land for the school turned out to be a wise one. All the schools are located in one place, it makes busing simpler and the biology classes can use the river for specimens."
"The boys enjoy it, they can sit on the park benches and watch the girls walk by."
"Did you?"
"No. We had to many things to do."
"How did the physics lab blow up?"
"I'm not sure, but when we walked by the lab on the way to the main entrance Barb noticed that someone had tied our basketball bladders next to one another by the window."
"Basketball Bladders! What on earth?"
"We stole two bladders from the PE department and purged them with nitrogen and filled one with hydrogen and the other with oxygen."
"How did you do that?"
"We were ahead in chem and the teacher let us do what ever we wanted while he helped the other students. We electrolyzed water and collected the gases in the two bladders. We stored them far apart in the physics lab and marked them 'Special experiment'. You remember how the lab was situated on the corner with a separate hallway between the physics lab and home ec."
"Yes."
"The lab was used only one hour a day and we thought it was safe to leave them there. We tried to get into the lab, but the door was locked. We had to wait for chem class and hope the door would be unlocked by then. We were lucky, we had assembly that morning. Everyone was away from the area when it exploded. It was a good thing our school didn't meet modern fire codes, the lab door and the hall door both opened the wrong direction and the second door was able to contain the blast. The slate top lab benches were still standing, but absolutely nothing else was left in the room. The windows in both walls were gone, frames and all. The lab door and frame was pushed to the hall doorway."
"Didn't anything catch on fire?"
"No. Only the single gas line was burning like a blow torch and water was gushing from the pipes where the sink used to be. The physics teacher had a work order in to repair the gas cock, it was leaking slightly and he tried, but couldn't stop the leak. He opened all the windows and locked both doors until the custodians could turn off the gas. They were going to do it after their morning coffee break. The fire chief couldn't explain it, he was completely stumped, if a gas leak caused the explosion why weren't the ceiling tiles black with soot?"
"You never told anyone what you did?"
"No. We didn't want to get the chem teacher in trouble for not supervising us properly or the physics teacher for not keeping the lab door locked when not in use."
"Boy you were lucky no one was hurt.
Didn't you chase a fellow student out the window?"
"No. Bob did."
"Come on, tell me."
"The class bully, Curt was in our physics class and he was giving the teacher a hard time. I don't know how he got into physics in the first place, he was failing. The teacher wanted to take him to the office, but he didn't want to leave the class, he knew we were experimenting with electricity. Bob understood the teachers problem and offered to escort Curt to the office for him. The teacher said, 'I don't want you to have a problem.'
'I won't', and Bob went toward Curt with a home made cattle prod. Curt saw it before the teacher did and dove out the window. Bob went out the window after him and chased him to the office."
"How did your teacher explain that one?"
"He didn't. Curt was so ashamed he never told the principal. He dropped out of school the same day and we never saw him again."
"How did you put the dead skunk into the air conditioning system without being perfumed yourself?"
"We were walking along the river and found a five gallon lard pail. We didn't have any idea how we would use it, but we took it home with us. On the way we could smell a skunk by the side of the road, we walked on the other side of the road to avoid the odor. We returned to the loft and were bemoaning the thought of returning to school on Tuesday, the weather was still warm and we didn't want to go to school just yet, we wanted to do some more hiking. Bob said, 'I have an idea, we should get a least one more day of vacation. Let's put the skunk in the lard pail and take it to school. We'll dump it in the waste basket by the principal's office.'
'The janitor will just take the waste basket out, that won't do any good.'
'I know a place that will, we'll have to be patient though.'
'What are you thinking?'
'We'll put it in the blower duct in the furnace room.'
'I see what you mean, we'll have to wait until the afternoon sun heats the building and when the janitor turns on the big blower to cool the building, we'll get the rest of the day off.'
'Let's leave before the blower goes on.'
'A very good idea, let's do it.' We took the lard pail, returned to the road, and found the skunk. We went to the river and found two long sticks, broke off the branches and returned to the skunk. We stood up wind, held the pail on its side with one stick and shoved the skunk into the pail with the other. Using both sticks we turned the pail up right and put the lid on tight. We threw the sticks into a drainage ditch, went to the top of a hill, and turned around in the wind. We still smelled a little by the time we reached home, but not too bad. We washed and put a little of our mother's perfume on our shirt cuffs to mask the skunk odor. We took the pail to school early Tuesday morning and when the coast was clear, we opened the inspection panel, dumped the skunk into the duct, put the lid back on the pail, replaced the inspection door, and put the pail into the outside waste container. We stayed in the park after lunch and waited for the school to evacuate. When the kids started to run out of the building, we couldn't control ourselves. We ran away so no one could see us laugh."
"How much did that extent your vacation?"
"Two and a half days. The custodians didn't discover the location of the skunk right away. The odor was still noticeable when we returned to school."
"Didn't they know who did it?"
"Sure, everyone knew. The students would look at us and laugh. The principle and the Chief gave us a lecture. We promised we wouldn't do it again. We had to do some kind of work as punishment, I can't remember what it was, all I can remember is that when no one else was around, we laughed the entire time we did it."
"What one didn't think of the others did." She got on her bike, she circled through the business district and back down Brown Avenue to Water street. She stopped momentarily on the bridge to look up and down the river and continued to Old Mill Road, past the homes on the east side, down the hill near the dam, past the plant, and stopped where the Middle Branch and the West Branch rivers met, about three miles south of town. She walked to the river bank and looked across. "I used to think Middleville was a hick town in the middle of no where, but after living in several different cities around the country these past eight years, I know I was mistaken. Middleville has its head on straight, it knows what's important, it's the rest of the country that's screwed up. Middleville is in the middle between the extremes, just like it's between the Middle Branch river and the West Branch river. The Browns played a central role, they tried to teach the rest of the people to be tolerant, considerate, and to be informed. Now I understand how and why Old Mr. Brown was so influential in your life.
Odd isn't it, how your roots call you back and you realize you should never have left. I've decided to make Middleville my home."
"You can stay with me as long as you like."
"Thanks Bill, I was hoping you would say that." She returned to the bikes and rode past our home to Bare Butt Beach. She was surprised to see all the new homes. "They cut down most of the trees. My, how it has changed since the last time I was here."
"When was that?"
"The year after I left Middleville."
"Many new homes have been built, but nothing has changed."
"What about Lover's Cove?"
"No, the hills around it are too rocky." "Do you still swim there?"
"Yes."
"Do you think it is warm enough for a dip today?"
"The air will be warm enough, but the water will still be cold. If we stay in the shallows on the north side maybe we could stand it."
"I'd like to, let's go." She sped away. She parked her bike near the water and hung her clothes on the seat and handle bars. She walked to the water and gingerly tested it.
"It's a little late to be cautious." She walked out, "It's fine," and swam toward the center. She let out a yell, "It's cold out here."
"I told you to stay in the shallow water, the current is cold." She swam in and parallel to the beach. I joined her and we swam for a half hour. I was glad when she decided to stop because I was getting cold. She wrung her hair and fluffed it with her hands. We stood on the beach, faced the sun, and air dried. The steep hills held the sun's warmth. It felt very good.
"That worked up an appetite. Isn't it dinner time?"
"We could eat early." We dressed and returned home. After dinner Kate wanted to watch the sunset, we walked up the hill and stood next to each other by the garden. After she was satisfied, she took my hand and we walked back to the house. "Would you tell me more about my mother."
"What would you like to know?" I hung up our jackets and walked into the living room with her. She guided me to the couch and waited until I was seated before she sat down. She sat very close to me, her shoulder, hip, and leg made contact. She took my hand and placed it between her hands.
"I would like to ask two very personal questions. I'll ask the second if you answer the first and the second is extremely important to me."
"I can't think of any question you could ask that I wouldn't be willing to answer."
"I'd like to know about the sex life of my mother. How active was she? How did it begin? How did you learn about sex? I assume you learned together."
"We did. I've told you many stories over the years so you would know your mother."
"I'm aware of that, but the last time I read the log and diary was when I was sixteen, I would like to hear those stories again to make sure my memory is correct, it's very important to me."
Talk about bringing back memories.

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L03U03 Evening

We did learn about sex together and mostly on our own. Our parents were no help at all, in fact they were a hindrance, and school offered very little. No health or sex education until we were seniors, way to late. Our elders didn't want us to learn the wrong things, but without anyone teaching us the right things what did they expect us to learn. Their logic still amazes me. If the result had not been so tragic, I would laugh. The difference between then and now is no one talked openly about the results, now you hear about it all the time.
Barb was exposed first, she could hardly wait until we were back in the loft so she could tell us what she'd heard and seen. We were ten and at that age we went to the Saturday afternoon movies if we had enough money, a nickel was a lot of money. As we were leaving, Barb went to the ladies room. When she came out she had an odd look on her face. She kept trying to get us to hurry home. She ran ahead of us, "Come on, hurry up. I've something to tell you. I want to know if you know what it means."
We increased our pace. As soon as we were in the loft, "While I was in a stall, I could hear two girls talking. One was in the stall next to me and the other was standing by the sink, she said to her friend, 'Beth, let me wear your sweater.'
'I don't want to, I'm cold.' She flushed the toilet and left the stall.
'You have to. Look what my stupid boyfriend did. The jerk didn't wash his hands. I can't leave without covering my blouse.' I flushed the toilet, but didn't leave, I looked out the crack between the door and the wall. She turned to her friend. 'Oh, my God. You sure can't.' She took off her sweater and handed it to her. As she put it on I could see smudge marks on her white blouse all around her breasts. The smudge marks weren't very dark, but they could be seen. As they left, she said, 'That's the last time I'll meet him at the movies.' What do you make of it?"
Bob and I looked at each other and said, "I'll be damned if I know." Bob continued, "Most of the boys I know wouldn't go with a girl, let alone touch her breasts."
"Let's ask our parents when we get a chance."
"Good idea." Our parents stopped us the minute we mentioned toilet and said, "You shouldn't discuss what you see and hear in a rest room." They wouldn't let us ask any other questions and their manner indicated the subject was closed.
We did learn a little at school. The girls were thirteen and their boyfriends were fifteen and sixteen. The girls weren't allowed to date so they sat in prearranged seats at the movie and their boyfriends joined them after the lights were turned off. We didn't learn much more because we didn't understand the words.
About a year later, Bob complained within Grandmother's hearing,
"Everyone is watching me all the time. If not my mom and dad, then my aunt and uncle."
"If you didn't do things that attract attention, no one would notice you." This was the second of several statements that changed our lives.
"Like fighting?" She never answered or looked up from her knitting and she wasn't going to say any more. We left for the loft. We debated, "Is it true?" "How can be test it?" Bob came through, "Bill, borrow one of your sister's brassieres and next time we go to the movies, we'lltest it." Bob wore it over his shirt. Barb walked backwards about thirtysteps in front of him and watched the people coming from behind him and I followed the same distance behind him and watched the people coming toward him. We wrote down how many people passed in the direction we were looking and their reaction. We compared notes when we returned to the loft.
We were amazed, only a few people noticed. A few more noticed only after someone else directed their attention to him. The ticket lady didn't even notice when Bob bought his ticket. We couldn't wait to try another experiment. We went to the park with our ground cloth, sat directly in front of two women sitting on bench, and began to read. One said to the other, "Did you hear about Lou Ann. She told her mother, 'All we do is hold hands.' Well they had to do more than hold hands. Some people say she has a tumor, I say she has a nine month tumor."
"Sh, little pitchers have big handles." We read for a few more minutes, "It's too hot here in the sun, let's move into the shade." We moved under a tree off to one side of the bench and before we had our ground cloth down the two women began to talk. We heard all about Lou Ann's sad plight. As the women left the park, one said, "I've some old quilts, in pretty bad shape, do you know of anyone who would want them?"
"No, I don't." Bob asked his aunt to inquire about the quilts. She asked a friend. The front of the quilts were beyond repair. We were surprised to find an old wool blanket inside each quilt. The backs were usable. We hemmed the edges and we each had a blanket and a sheet for camping. We stored them in the loft on top of the ground cloth making the floor much more comfortable to play games, read or listen to the radio.
We learned that if we stayed at least thirty degrees from the direction people were looking and didn't do anything to attract their attention, they ignored us, as far as they were concerned we weren't there. Grandmother was right. We made a pact not to fight, wrestle, or tease each other in front of adults.
We continued our eavesdropping and pretended to ignore the adults while we read or played games. We learned to conceal our emotions. After some practice we could choose our facial expressions and body language, both added to our isolation from our peers and our families. No one was certain as to our true feelings.
If we read books we wrote notes on a piece of paper used as a bookmark and if anyone asked what we were writing we replied, 'vocabulary words'. We had a few on the front and wrote our notes on the back or the inside of a folded sheet. If we were playing cards or a board game, we wrote down our moves on the front so we could make the same plays later, giving us an acceptable answer should anyone ask. Many adults shook their heads at our answer and then proceed to ignore us completely.
Each Saturday we summarized our notes and wrote them in our log book. Because we learned how to watch and to listen we could do things other children couldn't. We could talk briefly with adults and they would talk to us. We could eavesdrop on conversations and no one seemed to care. We could stay in the living room and listen to an entire adult conversation even while other children were being shooed out of the room. What we heard confirmed some things we already knew, like Santa Claus was not real and babies were not brought by the stork. We had seen our cats deliver, our dogs mate, and my sister pregnant, but we were not allowed to talk about them. By listening, we slowly learned what wasn't taught in school or by our parents.
We learned that my mother was a virgin when she married. Barb's mother and father had to get married at sixteen. Fortunately, they were in love and the marriage turned out well. Bob's mother didn't know whether she was pregnant or not, she had several miscarriages after they were married. Other conversations indicated that many women were not virgins when they married and not necessarily the same man.
A conversation between two young women shocked us because until then sex was always associated with love and marriage and only with one partner. One complained about cramps and called her period, 'the woman's curse'. The other said, "You got it all wrong honey, I call it 'My friend'."
"How can you say that, your cramps are worse than mine?"
"Because when it comes I know I'm not pregnant and most of the men I don't want to marry." The other quickly switched to another topic and we didn't learn any more from them.
The most important thing we learned was that our parents and most adults didn't know what they were talking about. They didn't even know the right words to use. If the right words are not used, a conversation could end in an emotional argument, an event we witnessed many times. We learned at a very young age not to argue with adults who did not know what they were talking about. It's difficult enough to carry on a conversation with ignorance, you can't argue with it.
The next major episode occurred about a year later. Our school had a strict policy, if a student was bleeding for any reason while at school they had to report to the school nurse. Barb scraped her knee and the school nurse was putting iodine on it when a classmate came in sobbing. She hadn't done anything and she couldn't understand why a small amount of blood was running down the inside of her leg. She was afraid she would be punished for some unknown reason. The nurse took her behind a screen and told her, "Calm down, you won't be punished, there is nothing wrong with you, all women do it once a month. Didn't your mother tell you?"
"No."
"Are you all right now?"
"Yes."
"Let me finish with Barb and I'll be right back. She put a bandage on Barb's knee and hustled her out of the room. The girl didn't return to class. The next day Barb tried to get her to tell her what happened. She wouldn't talk about it, her mother told her not to tell anyone. Barb tried to ask her mother and grandmother, but neither would listen, they both said, "I don't want to hear any more questions like that, you're to young to know about things like that." Barb told us about it. "I don't like it, everyone is so hush hush about it and yet the school nurse said every woman does it. If every woman does it why am I to young to know?" We shrugged our shoulders.
Later, I asked my dad, "That's women stuff, don't ask about it again." My sister must have overheard one of the conversations because she discreetly told Barb to ask one of the younger teachers. The teacher didn't say a thing, she went to a file cabinet, removed a plain envelope, and handed it to Barb. We read the four page pamphlet over and over, it only answered a few questions about menstruation. Barb's growth spur came early, but menarche didn't occur until she was nearly thirteen. She played dumb and went to the school nurse just to see what she would tell her.
Barb didn't speak to her mother for almost a month. Bob prevented her from making a worse mistake by reminding her, "Maybe it's the way she was taught." Barb went to her mother right then and told her, "I forgive you mom, it's the way you were taught." Her mother nodded, cried, and hugged Barb, "You know more than I do, honey, I can't help you very much any more."
When Barb returned, "Thanks Bob. You should have seen the look of relief on her face. Bob and I knew Barb was changing because she carried a compact and put a very small amount of powder on her face, her breasts were developing, and she read her mother's love story magazines instead of comic books or children's books from the library. She wanted us to experiment with her each time she read something different in one of those magazines, according to the stories, it put the heroine in a wild state of ecstasy.
First she wanted us to hold her hand, to hug her, and to tell her she was beautiful. She was very disappointed when nothing happened and it certainly didn't do anything for us. Next, she wanted us to lie on top of her and kiss her, that made her feel funny, but she liked our weight on her. Encouraged, she wanted us to touch her breasts, an unpleasant experience until she learned how she wanted to be touched and Bob and I learned how to touch her. Until then none of us were aware how sensitive her nipples had become.
Petting aroused strange feelings, she became excited and wanted us to expand our petting. She asked us to slide our hands over her bare legs and hips. Bob and I didn't know what we were doing and when I slid my hand up the inside of her leg, "Stop. Stop.
Boy did that send shivers up and down my spine. I was very uncomfortable with my feelings." That curtailed our petting, but we continued to hug and kiss her and tell her she was beautiful. She seemed to enjoy that and was disappointed when we didn't and sometimes she told us so.
She cried after reading a tear jerking story about a young woman who was forced to choose between her two best friends which one was to be her husband. "I couldn't do that. I don't want to be separated from either of you. I love you both. I couldn't choose. You won't make me choose, will you?" Tears ran down her face. Bob and I hugged her and we made our first vow never to separate.
"Now tell us what you were talking about." She stopped crying and told us the story. "You won't make me choose will you?" She cried again. Bob and I said, "Never," and we repeated our vow again. We held her until she stopped crying, we kissed her and returned to our reading.
The first swim of the summer was another turning point. Barb left the water before Bob and I did and when we approached the blanket Barb had her legs spread and her head bent forward as far as she could. "What on earth are you doing?"
"I thought I could see better in the sun light."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm trying to see if I look like the diagram, you guys do." She took her compact from her purse and used the mirror to give herself a better angle to see herself. "I got a pamphlet on sex yesterday. It tells everything." She looked at the pamphlet and handed it to me. I sat down and read it while they sunbathed. When I finished, I handed it to Bob, stood and air dried. "Where did you get it?"
"Is our country the only one that doesn't teach its young people about sex?"
Bob said, "You're right, if it doesn't tell everything at least it tells a whole lot more than we knew."
"We're all normal as far as I can tell. You guys look and see if you agree." She rolled over and spread her legs and her labia. We took turns looking at her and the diagram. Without thinking I touched her clitoris with my index finger as I examined it. "Whoa," she said, "Private."
Instinctively I withdrew my finger, What did I do?"
"You better reread the section on simulation." I stood and reread the pamphlet.
"Oh boy, I shouldn't've done that. Sorry."
"Apology accepted, but since you touched me can I touch you? My mother will not let me change the babies yet. She treats me like a child and there's something I would like to know."
"Go ahead." She sat up and slid her fingers gently around my scrotum.
"Don't squeeze."
"I know. The testes are larger than I thought." Then she slid her fingers around my penis. She laughed, "It's like a thick walled rubber hose. Whoops." Her hand snapped away and she rolled away from me and sat up. "Now it's my turn to say, 'I shouldn't've done than." She and Bob stared wide eyed, mouths open at my first erection. Bob broke the silence, "You look exactly like the diagram."
"Don't be so clinical, how do I get it to go away?"
"The pamphlet doesn't say." I didn't know what to do and the stupid things I did, didn't work. I thought I was going to burst. "Go in the water, you know like we have heard, 'Take a cold shower.'" I ran into the water, it didn't help. I ran up and down the beach hoping the cooling effect would make it go away. I returned to the blanket just as big as before. Bob and Barb chuckled at my antics. The chuckle turned to laughter and soon I was laughing, too. As my laughing increased, it grew soft. With a feeling of relief I dried and dressed, they followed. Before we left we were laughing again as they retold how funny I looked, running up and down the beach. We hugged and kissed and walked home.
The conversation returned to the word 'private' and we agreed when anyone of us said 'private' the others would stop what ever they were doing and turn away. We never violated that agreement and it saved each one of us some embarrassment. It helped us adjust to our sexuality. We discussed sex frankly and calmly. We had a vocabulary, we didn't need to use emotionally charged slang terms.
Two other things helped, first Barb's body didn't change very much until she was sixteen, she remained lean, lanky, and as homely as a mud fence. She didn't stimulate Bob and I visually and secondly, Bob and I didn't start our major sexual changes until we were sixteen, by then Barb had adjusted to her sexuality and didn't need to experiment any longer, she even stopped using makeup. She helped us keep control.
The first couple of years, Barb was very self conscious when ever she wore a tampon, she was certain everyone could see it. We assured her, "Barb, we can't see it and we are looking for it, how could anyone else." Bob and I could see her gain confidence. Later, we kidded her, "Barb, be glad you don't have our problem. Why do you think Bob and I walk down the hall carrying our books in front of us?" She thought for a couple of seconds, "Your kidding?"
"No, we stick out like sore thumbs." Barb was amazed at how fast we would erect.
Patty sat in front of me in algebra and gave me all kind of problems. She had hips that matched my idea of perfect. I tried not to watch her, but that was difficult because she was a pleasure to watch. One day we formed a triangle facing each other talking in the hall. I didn't have any books with me and Patty walked by. "Don't move you guys, please." They looked down at me and laughed. "It's not funny you guys." They laughed harder and didn't stop until I started to laugh, then I was OK.
I never could understand why so many people attach evil thoughts to the act of a man watching a woman. I don't recall thinking of anything except how beautiful her curves were. My body was responding at the subconscious level to a visual stimulus, it had nothing to do with my thoughts at the time, a few seconds later it might, but not then.
Only one other person ever indicated to me that they enjoyed looking at curves. We left solid geometry class on our way to English. "I forgot my book." Bob ran the opposite direction to his locker. We turned and watched him, he couldn't find his book. "It's in my locker." Barb walked to tell him and went down the hall to her locker. Every boy in the hall turned to watch her, I only noticed their movement out of the corner of my eyes, I was watching Barb, too. She was such a pleasure to watch, her figure was full now and her curves changed with each step. Someone approached from the geometry classroom, "The female form has so many beautiful curves, circles, ellipses, parabolas, and hyperbolas."
"I'll sure go long with that." My gaze never left Barb, I watched her until she was directly in front of me. "I wish you wouldn't look at me that way, it gives me goose bumps all over." The same person said, "I wish I had a figure that men would admire." Only then did I realize it was Miss Smith our geometry teacher who was speaking. She put her hand to her mouth and walked quickly away. Instantly she was our friend. Miss Smith and I led the grand march at our senior prom and Bob and I took turns dancing with her and Barb. Old Mr. Brown made sure nothing happened to her because it was against school policy for a teacher to dance with a student. After college, Miss Smith told me, "I can't tell you how much a fifty year old woman enjoyed your senior prom. It's a pleasure to spend time with people who think as you do. I enjoy your company very much."
That memory caused me to reflect on how much alike Barb, Bob, and I were, it was amazing. We had the same values, we thought alike, we felt the same way about things, we seldom disagreed, we argued heatedly, but competitively, not from anger. We never fought after we listened to grandmother. Another thing amazed me, until the Day of Ice, I don't recall either Bob or myself ever being aroused by anything we did together, except for that one time at the cove, and after that, only when we knew Barb was willing to have sex. We could kiss, hug, pet, swim nude, it didn't matter. The Day of Ice was the most important event in our sex lives.

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L03U04 The Day of Ice

In early spring of our sixteenth year, we were eager to use the new back packs Old Mr. Brown gave us, we became friends the previous fall. We went camping in the hills east of the East Branch river. The rain had removed most of the snow, some remained in the shadows of conifers and large rocks. The south banks of the rivers had a small amount of ice above the high water mark. The mud was gone from the path and the high ground was solid where we chose to go.
We crossed a branch of the East Branch river called Red Creek on our way to an old log cabin where we spent Friday night. We planned to go to another cabin on the other side of the creek the next morning and return home on Sunday afternoon. When we crossed the creek, the water was high because of the spring run off, but not any higher than we had seen before. We had been hiking in this area since we were nine and camping since we were twelve.
We crossed on stepping stones at a narrow place in the creek. It was about nine feet across with a rope railing upstream of the stones. The creek was not very deep, but the banks were steep. We spent a pleasant night in the cabin. After we arrived we built a fire in the fire place and started cooking dinner. While we waited I restocked the cabin with more dry fire wood, much more than we would use, but maybe the next campers would be caught in a rain storm. After dinner we went for a walk, but we were less than a quarter of a mile from the cabin when it began to mist. No point in getting wet when we didn't have to, so we returned to the cabin and made our plans for the next day. We didn't have any trouble passing the time, we talked about many things. The bunks were in bad shape and it was still cold so we slept in front of the fire place in our usual manner. It was warm enough, we didn't need to cuddle, but cold enough to put the sheets on top.
A gentle rain woke us the next morning, not what we wanted, but no big deal either. After breakfast and clean up, we packed and left wearing our ponchos. At the creek the water was higher. We debated whether to go to another crossing or not. "Let me go across first and see how slippery the rocks are." The others agreed. "Hold my poncho while I take off my back pack." To keep it dry, I set it under the roots of a tree that leaned over the creek on the opposite side of the path from the tree that anchored the rope railing. Barb and Bob decided to do the same, no point in carrying a load while they waited.
I held onto the rope railing and stepped gingerly from one rock to another, in case the next rock was slippery. The rocks were wet from an occasional wave that washed over them, but none were slippery. I turned around when I was near the other bank. I was careful, but walking much faster going back. Near the center the rope was frayed, I hadn't noticed on the way over or the night before. I stopped briefly to inspect it. One strand was broken and the other two didn't look very strong.
Movement in the back ground caught my eye. I focused on it, it was a piece of ice. Then in quick succession more pieces were floating down the creek. Now, I knew why the water was higher than normal for this time of the year. I grabbed the rope with both hands and began to run toward the others. They saw the danger when I started to run and yelled for me to hurry. I never heard their yell and I couldn't move fast enough.
Up stream an ice dam was slowly giving way, it finally broke, and a foot high wall of water was rushing down on me. It swept my feet out from under me, the rope broke behind me as the force of the moving water pulled me down stream. In panic, I held tight to the rope and I slammed against the bank. I clawed at the bottom and the bank with my feet, trying frantically to get a footing so my legs could help my arms pull my body up the rope against the current. The current force my poncho tight to my body making movement almost impossible. The bank was to steep and the current wouldn't let me touch the bottom, I was like a bobber on a fish line, pinned against the bank by the current and the rope.
As I was swept down stream the moving rope nearly knocked Barb and Bob down, the leaning tree stopped the motion of the rope from pushing them over. They grabbed the rope and tried to pull it. They couldn't move it. The force of the current pulled the rope tight against the bank and the base of the tree. When Bob couldn't move the rope, he took off his poncho and ran about ten feet down stream staying near the edge of the bank until he was down stream of me. Barb hung her and Bob's ponchos on the roots of the tree, she didn't know what Bob was doing, but she did as he did.
Bob climbed a small sapling, keeping his weight toward me. As the tree began to bend, Barb knew what Bob was doing and climbed the tree one or two branches behind him, keeping her weight on the same side. As the tree bent, Bob's feet were higher than his hands and his feet slipped from the limbs. He didn't try to keep his foot hold, he let his body swing and wrapped his legs around the upper part of the tree that was now at an angle below him. He slid rapidly down toward me. Barb followed his example.
The top part of the tree hit the water down stream from my body, but one branch hit the back of my head, instinctively I grabbed it, first with one hand and then the other. When I let go of the rope, the current swept me down stream, but for a few seconds I was not fighting the current and I was able to pull myself a couple of branches up the tree before I was again fighting the current. When Bob saw that I had a firm grip on the branch, he let go and so did Barb. The combined force of the current and the stain of the tree slid my body down steam and up the bank at an angle, my waist was out of the water. Bob and Barb grabbed a branch near the bank and pulled together at a right angle to the tree, with each pull my body slid further down stream and higher up the bank. When my body was completely out of the water, they pulled straight up the bank. When they could reach my arms, they dragged me over the top of the bank and collapsed next to me. The sapling slowly continued to move upward as I let it slip from my grip, it never was straight again.
Between the numbing effect of the icy water and the blocking effect of my panic, I didn't feel the cold, I started to shiver a little, within seconds my whole body was shaking violently. Barb put her wet folded handkerchief between my teeth. They knew no matter how tired they were, they had to get me warm. They tried to get me to stand, I couldn't, my whole body was numb and shaking at the same time. My mind was foggy, but I knew and didn't know what was happening.
The gentle rain turned into a down pour, it felt good to me because it was warmer than the ice water of the creek. Bob and Barb dragged me to the leaning tree, put their ponchos on to conserve as much body heat as possible, and ran dragging me back to the cabin. Bob lit the wood I had placed in the fire place before we left and ran out of the cabin. Barb removed my clothes and covered me with her poncho, my was torn. Barb took her clothes off and wrung the water out of hers and mine and place the clothes on top of our shoes next to the fire. She wrung as much water as she could from her hair, then used my undershirt to remove some more water, wrung out the undershirt, wrapped her hair in the undershirt, and stood by the fire to dry. Bob dumped two back packs on the floor, took the ax from near the wood box and left.
Barb rolled me over away from the fire, took a dry shirt from one of the back packs and dried me, took one bed roll, unrolled it in front of the fire and rolled me on to it and dried my other side. She unrolled the other bed roll, put a blanket on top of me, and then both sheets. She hung the poncho and put on dry clothes and her wet shoes. Bob returned with the other back pack and what was left of the rope railing, "Unbraid it," and he left again. Barb put the last bed roll on top of me and unbraided the rope. She took the food out of the back packs, put some potatoes next to the fire place wall to bake, ate a chocolate bar and some cheese, opened a can of beans, emptied it into a mess kit pot so I could use the can for a urinal.
Bob returned with several long limbs with short forks on one end. He removed his wet clothes, dried, put on dry clothes, and put on his wet shoes. We put dry socks in wet shoes and walked in them until the socks were wet and changed socks until the shoes were dry. Bob cut the rope into lengths. He ate a chocolate bar and some cheese while he lashed one of the limbs vertically to the back of each chair with the fork up. He placed the chairs a sheet's length apart facing the fire place with the limbs on the outside. He placed another limb in each fork and put its fork end on the fire place mantle. He placed another limb across the two horizontal limbs next to the forks of the vertical limbs and lashed the three together. He placed another limb from the center of the fire place mantle to the center of the limb between the two chairs and lashed them together. He took a sheet off me and placed it over the limbs so it hung down behind the chairs and moved it until it touched the floor.
To keep the sheet from falling he lashed the edge of the sheet to the horizontal limbs. Barb held the sheet in place until it was lashed. He took another sheet and draped it from the center horizontal limb over the outside horizontal limb and moved it until it touched the floor and again lashed the edges to the limbs. He took the last sheet and did the same thing in the opposite direction. He had built a large reflector oven around the fire place.
They moved me away from the fire place so they had enough room to walk between me and the fire place and hung the rest of the rope between the center and the two outside horizontal limbs and hung the wet clothes to dry with the under wear in the center. As the clothes dried wet ones replaced them. The dry clothes were returned to the back packs and they were then used as pillows.
Bob paused to admire his ingenuity while kneeling on the blankets. Barb moved next to him, kissed him, and hugged him. Bob checked the fire and Barb checked the food. They undressed, got under the blankets, one on each side of me, rolled me on my side, cuddled tight to me, and fell asleep. A couple of hours later they woke because my body heat was returning and they were to warm, Bob's reflector oven was working. Their feet were a little cold, but other than that they were comfortable sitting half naked in the chairs.
They took turns laying next to me on the side away from the fire. When the blanket closest to the fire became too hot, they rolled me over to my other side and turned the blanket around. When I began to stir in mid afternoon, they took turns feeding me mashed potatoes and mashed carrots, I was too shaky to hold a spoon. They continued to feed me as much as I would eat until I could hold a spoon and keep food on it. Later I ate a chocolate bar and some cheese without help and when I could talk understandably, "Thanks for what you have done, but I'm still freezing."
By dinner time Bob and Barb were rested and restless. Barb didn't want to leave me alone so Bob went for a walk by himself. A few minutes later he opened the door, "Hey the rain has stopped, I'm going to the creek to see if the water is down." Barb made macaroni and cheese and heated the pot of beans. Bob returned, "Good news, the water is receding. We should be able to cross easily in the morning."
"How are you feeling Bill?"
"I'm fine. My feet are still cold and I'm a little shaky, but I can join you for dinner. Bob and Barb took the reflector oven down. Barb put the food on the table while Bob warmed our mess kit plates over the fire. I sat up dressed, walked to the table, and sat down. The food never tasted so good. I didn't feel like talking, I took off my clothes and went back to bed. I listened to them talk. They removed our radio from a back pack and scanned the air waves. They listened to several transmissions. One stimulated a conversation between Barb and Bob. The radio became background noise, no one was paying attention to it. I fell asleep.
At nine thirty, "I guess I didn't rest enough this afternoon, I'm tired. I've never expended so much energy in such a short time. Bob spread the sheets on top of the blankets. Barb turned off the radio. They undressed and came to bed. Barb curled up next to me. During the night I had had enough sleep, I sat cross legged in the center very close to the edge and draped the blankets over my shoulders. This left a small triangle on each side of me that let the radiant heat from the fire reached Barb.
A while later she was too warm and woke. She sat up next to me, "Bill, I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you. I was scared, really scared for the first time in my life."
"Me, too."
"Now I understand why Old Mr. Brown's hair turned white, I'll bet he was in an even scarier situation."
"It's OK, Barb, it's OK to be scared. It was a scary situation and you and Bob came through with flying colors, I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"Don't give me to much credit, I only followed Bob, he had the ideas as usual.
I'm glad you are all right. I have so much to be thankful for."
"Me too, look at all the things we did that prevented it from being worse. Plus the things that didn't happen, like the rope didn't break again and neither did the sapling."
"Oh, Bill." I held her until she stopped crying.
"Are you OK, now?"
"Yes, but hold me a while longer." I continued to hold her and stroked her back.
"Phew, you don't need to hold me any longer, I'm hot" She was warm. She lay on top of the blankets for a while before she crawled back under them. She rolled close to me and slid her fingers up and down my arm. "I'm glad you're OK, I'm glad you're here, I can't bear the thought of losing you, I love you to much."
"I love you very much." She raised up on one elbow and stroked the back of my neck with her other hand. She sat up and pressed her body very tight to me, her nipples were like little rocks pressing into my back. In a low tone, "Bill, lay on top of me. Please." I didn't move, I didn't know what to do. I had seen Barb nude many times and we had touched each other many times, but this was only the second time Barb stimulated me and I didn't want to lay on her with an erection. She slid her hand down my back as she rolled on to her back, removing the blankets. "Please, Bill, I'm cold."
"Private."
"I don't care, I want to hold you on top of me." I was reluctant and very self conscious as I complied with her request. She held me and kissed me, I kissed her back and kissed her neck. She stroked the back of my neck and whispered, "I'm uncomfortable, would you slide down a bit." Without thinking about what her request meant, I raised up on my elbows and knees and slowly moved down. "How far?" She wrapped her legs around me and stopped me from moving. "That's good. Now, lay down." As I did I sank slowly into her. What a feeling. She put her arms around me and held me very tight for what seemed like an eternity. "Oh, how I love you. Bill, please never leave me."
"I won't."
"I want the three of us to stay together forever."
"We've never been apart. If either of you were missing, a part of me would be missing."
"You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that." She relaxed her grip and moved beneath me. My body instinctively knew what to do and did it before my mind finished debating what I should do. With each thrust, a quiet 'uh' escaped her. I came very quickly, but didn't stop. Her sound became louder as I increased my tempo. Bob stirred, but didn't wake up.
A short time after I came again, she uttered, "Oh, oh, oh, ooooh." Each one louder that the proceeding 'oh'. She tightened her arms and legs around me until I could barely breath and emitted a cat like growl, followed very quickly by, "Oh, oh, oh, ooooh," even louder than before.
Bob woke up, "What are you two doing that you are making so much noise?" Barb relaxed her grip, "Don't stop." I obeyed. Bob rolled over, "Oh, my God." Barb slid her hand under his neck and pulled his head on to her shoulder. "I want you too, Bob, I love you very much, I want you. I want us to stay together forever." She kissed him repeatedly. He kissed her back. "I love you, Barb and I can't imagine us ever being apart." I put one arm around Bob and he put one arm around me. I rolled off after I came again, but kept my head on her shoulder. "Bob, lay on top of me." He needed no further encouragement. She kissed him and then me and continued to alternate kisses. Bob and I took turns until we were empty. We spent the rest of the night laughing and crying, hugging and kissing, and repeating vows of never separating. We fell asleep in each others arms before dawn and slept until noon. We left for home a very happy threesome.
We never told anyone what happened, but everyone knew something did because we were not ourselves for more than two weeks. We were happy, but something was bothering us. We didn't realize what it was until Saturday morning. Barb came skipping and jumping to the loft. Bob and I watched her from the window. We waited impatiently until she was calm enough to talk. "My friend arrived. My friend arrived.
The news released a mental block, we knew what was bothering us, now we could discuss both traumatic events. Until now, there was an unspoken agreement not to discuss either. We had not had sex or touched each other since we returned. We didn't have sex again until six months later, but we did hug and kiss again. Those two events, known as the Day of Ice in our log book, was the beginning of our sex life. Everything changed and yet nothing changed.
Our bonds grew stronger each day. Repeating our vows never to separate became a Saturday ritual. Over the years we agreed on how we were going to live together after college. Pregnancy was discussed frequently, none of us wanted an unwanted pregnancy, it would not ruin our plans, but it sure would delay them. Barb and Bob decided that if she became pregnant before we graduated from college, Bob would go to work, I would finish college, then he would, followed by Barb. If we managed to finish college before Barb became pregnant, Bob would father the first child.
We knew more than most adults, but we still needed to learn more. We did and we had sex two to three times a week on the 'safe days'. Barb was as regular as a clock unlike many young women. Still, we were on an emotional roller coaster each month, would she be pregnant this time or not.
We were lucky and we knew it. We were also very disciplined. We never violated our own rules, no matter how much we wanted to. We were well aware of what had happened to many other couples.

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L03U05 That Night

"She must've felt like a pin cushion with two teen age boys poking at her."
"I never thought she felt that way. When she had had enough or didn't want any to begin with, she would say, 'private' and we didn't bother her."
"I didn't remember parts of the story."
"I didn't tell you some parts because I was still inhibited."
"Inhibited! I never thought of you as being inhibited."
"No doubt I was very liberal compared to my parents and the good citizens of Middleville, but some attitudes we learn are very difficult to over come. Besides when you were old enough to remember and understand, I was still learning, I still am, but I don't learn at the same pace as I did then."
"It's difficult for children, first they think their parents know everything, then they don't know anything, and then they know more than they thought. You will never stop learning. It's even difficult for me to remember that, you continually surprise me. Almost every letter or phone call contains something new."
"Even so, I didn't tell you all I knew when I first taught you and I've learn more since. That was a long time ago and we talked about men not sex per se."
"I still learned more from you than any one else, but let me turn to my second question. Are you sure Bob was my father and not you?"
"Positive."
"How can you be so sure."
"We followed our plan, the one we devised when we were in high school. We never had any reason to change it. You know how the bedrooms are adjoining with doors between the rooms with locks on Barb's side. If she didn't want sex she locked both doors, if she wanted sex she left the door open to one of our rooms, and if she didn't have strong feelings one way or the other she unlocked a door but didn't open it."
"And you checked the door every night."
"Not every night, Barb kept a calendar on her desk, she updated it every day. An 'S' in the corner meant it was a safe day. There was no way that either one of us would not enter her room unless the door was locked or we were sick. Sex with her was something else. What some men never learn is that sex with the woman you love and who loves you is almost always something else. A substitute is never as satisfying."
"The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."
"Barb said, 'The trouble with men is that they have two heads.'"
"Did she ever leave both doors unlocked?"
"No. After the Day of Ice we never had communal sex again. Our emotions were extremely high on that day and the day after our natural and learn inhibitions returned. Well, what inhibitions we did have."
"On with the question."
"We agreed that Bob would father the first child and as luck would have it, I was away on business for three months when she decided to have a baby. She didn't have sex with me until two months after I returned. She waited that long to be sure she was pregnant."
"How did you know she was pregnant?"
"I was getting the garden ready for planting on a Saturday morning when Bob came to the garden, 'Barb wants to talk with you. I'll finish what you have started.' She met me at the door, kissed me and led me to her calendar. She made sure I understood what her notations meant. She slid her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately. 'Horny, huh?'
'Gotta stay. Gotta stay. Can't go up the chimney this way.' She laughed, 'Come with me Santa.' After we were in bed she told me about the wedding. It would be small, only our families and a few friends at the court house. We didn't come down for lunch until late afternoon. We returned to our routine until about a month before you were born. You were born one week after her calculated due date. An eight pound healthy baby."
"You were to father the next child?"
"Yes."
"Even though she was married to Bob?"
"Before the next birth, she and Bob would get a divorce and I would marry her."
"On what grounds?"
"Infidelity, of course, the only accepted reason then and one no one would dispute."
"And the children would be legitimate."
"Yes."
"And you were going to alternate for each child?"
"Yes."
"The good citizens of Middleville would've been up in arms."
"They already were. That's why we built our home out here. After Old Mr. Brown calmed the first citizens meeting, we decided to build as close to our families as possible and still be out of sight. We avoided going town together, but we still went swimming, biking, hiking, and camping together."
"Out of sight, out of mind. Was that your strategy?"
"Yes. Then, a hill and the first bend in the river hid our home from view. The only people to see us were the boys going to and from Bare Butt Beach. Now, subdivisions are on both sides of the river."
"It's a beautiful place for a home, I've always enjoyed the view. The gentle bend in the river allows a view up and down the river from anywhere outside the house and from the living room and the bedrooms as well."
"Yes, we spent many pleasant days here. So have you and I and we swam, biked, hiked, and camped together in all the same places. We did many of the same things. You didn't have much interest in the radio."
"No, records were in vogue then and we listened to my records while we read or played cards or played board games. Its late, let's go to bed."
We walked upstairs together and as I went to my room, Kate said, "Before you go to bed, would you come to my room and talk a while longer?"
"After I put on my robe."
"See you in a few minutes." Later, I walked into her room, the door was open. She was in bed, at an odd angle. Her feet were near this edge of the bed and her head on two pillows on the opposite side. She had moved the chair to the end of the bed near her feet. When I sat in the chair I was looking the full length of her body, straight at her face.
"Do you remember the night Dave Ferguson asked me to the prom?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why I asked you to answer the phone, when I could've done it more easily than you?"
Before I could answer her question that night flashed through my mind followed by some additional memories. Kate came home from school very dejected. The prom was only two weeks away and not one boy had asked her. I didn't see her until dinner time, she went to her room and did her homework. She was still pouting as she helped get dinner, Mildred was visiting relatives for the weekend. I said, "You had better put on an apron."
"Why? I'm wearing old clothes."
"So the birds won't white wash your shirt when they perch on your lower lip." She stopped, came to me and put her head against my chest. We held each other.
"I don't know why I want to go so bad, I just do."
"You have had only two dates since you started high school, you can't expect to be asked to the prom."
"I know it's an unrealistic wish, but I still want to go."
"Don't give up yet. It takes young men a long time to get the courage to ask a young woman as beautiful as you."
"Uncle Bill, you're such an optimist and don't say things like that."
"Like what?"
"As beautiful as me."
"Well, it's true, you look like your mother and even you have to admit she was beautiful."
"I wish I could've known her."
"That's why I kept all the pictures, wrote the diary to supplement the log, and told you stories about your parents, so you would know them as best you could."
"Thanks Uncle Bill. Tell me another story after dinner," she released and returned to what she was doing. She told me about her day and asked about mine while we fixed dinner. I cleared the table while she prepared the dish water and I put away the food while she washed the dishes. As she put the dish pan away she intentionally bumped me with her hips as I walked past her. I poked her in the ribs. She grabbed a dish towel and snapped it at me. I ran around the table, she chased me. We went around the table a couple of times. She snapped the towel when I was within range, but I managed to evade it. I ran into the living room and turned around as she snapped the towel. I grabbed the end, gave a yank, and caught her as she spun around. She tried to get away, but I grabbed the other end of the towel forming a loop around her and pulled her back. She came back faster than I pulled and her butt hit my hips knocking me off balance. As I fell back onto the couch, she tried to get away, but I held tight to the towel and she fell with me and on to my lap. She squirmed to get away, I wrapped my arms around her, "If I was a vampire, you would be irresistible," and playfully bit her neck. "But you're not a vampire so you will have to settle for a kiss." She turned, slid her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
She didn't kiss me like a niece kisses an uncle, "I love you so much, Uncle Bill," and she kissed me again. "I love you, Kate," and I kissed her like a man kisses a woman. We didn't speak, we held one another, she slid her hand up the back of my neck and through my hair, we kissed again. We held our faces very close and looked into each others eyes. Her heart was pounding, her breathing was heavy and so was mine. We kissed again and the phone rang.
She stood and ran upstairs, "Would you get it, Uncle Bill?" It was the high school heart throb, the captain of the football team, basketball star, and baseball hero. I don't blame the girls, he was good looking and a good student. I had never heard anything bad about him and from what I knew of him, he would be a very good husband. He asked for Kate, "Just a minute, I'll get her." When I reached the stairs, Kate ran down and into my arms, "It's your prom date calling, I approve, you can go with him if you want. Calm down before you talk to him."
She leaned back, our eyes met, "Thank you, Uncle Bill." She walked slowly to the phone. I slumped onto the couch while they talked, I extended both arms along the back of the couch and spread my legs. I moved my hips forward so my body made as little contact with the couch as possible.
I didn't listen to their conversation, I was too busy with my own thoughts. The first of which was, 'Saved by the bell'. I don't know what I would've done. I convinced myself never to make any physical contact with Kate again except for a good night kiss and I didn't. Kate never indicated that she noticed the change. Kate managed to contain her excitement while she was talking to Dave, but as soon as she hung up, she went bouncing around the house. They dated all that summer until they went to college and they never saw one another again.
"Yes, I remember that night very well. You went upstairs to change your underwear and to splash cold water on your face, neck, and wrists. You didn't notice me as I sat on the couch, you were too excited about a possible prom date. I was trying to lose as much body heat as I could."
"Then you felt the same way I did."
"Yes, Kate. I have always loved you, but that night I knew I loved you as a woman, not as a niece."
Finally, I realized what Kate was doing, she was executing a well devised plan and it was working. She hadn't called me 'Uncle' once since she arrived. Slowly, she increased my empathy by encouraging me to recall nostalgic memories making it more difficult to say 'No' and asked me to tell her erotic memories so I would be easily aroused. I was aroused just thinking about her plan. I didn't know exactly what she was going to do next, but I had a general idea.
I loosened the belt so the lose robe would conceal my erection as I stood. She was saying, "I told you earlier I wanted a baby, I want to have our baby and I want you tonight." She uncovered her nude body with one quick motion, spread her legs, and beckoned with her hand for me to come to her.
While she was removing the blankets, I was removing my robe and pj's and I was on her almost before her hand stopped moving. An hour later she tried to prevent me from rolling off, "I'm sorry but I can't keep it up, I'm exhausted."
"No need to be sorry, honey, I wanted more, but you know that performance is not my most important priority. I will be satisfied, I know I will.
By the way, what name do you want to give our first child?"
"I'm to tired to think that far ahead."
"I know you will want to invite Old Mr. Brown to our wedding, who else?"
"Can we talk about it tomorrow? We can check out possible arrangements on Monday. Wait a minute, our first child! How many do you want?"
"I think six is a nice number, don't you?" She rolled on to her side and slid her arm over me, mine went around her waist, and we fell asleep snuggled tight to each other. We were so satisfied we slept till one. That union ended twelve years of denial, I couldn't love her, she was too young, she was a substitute Barb. It was so comfortable, it felt so natural and normal, I was on top of the world and she was holding the world. That feeling lasted for six weeks, it didn't disappear, it transformed, a feeling hard to describe. The best way I can is, my life before seemed to be gone, I had always been married to Kate and I didn't want anything else. There was a change in Kate, too, after six weeks.
It probably began sooner, but at six weeks I had no doubt because I saw her checking her calendar. About two weeks before, I thought she seemed very satisfied and each day I would swear she kept doing more things for me, she couldn't do enough for me. She was a beautiful woman and she became even more beautiful. She was strikingly radiant. When I saw her checking her calendar I knew what it was, she was radiating her satisfaction with her first pregnancy, most women do, her entire being was satisfied.
She turned around as I came up behind her. She put her forearms against my chest with her hands near my chin, "Do you want to name him after Old Mr. Brown, he was the most influential person in you life wasn't he?" I held her, "Want to think about it, huh?" Kate delivered three healthy children about two years apart before menopause. She nursed each one until she went dry. No one would ever guess the names of the children.
Two golden retrievers later, Kate was in a reflective mood, we buried Goldie that morning and had said good bye to the last child to get married and leave home the month before. We sat on the top of the hill next to the garden after lunch, enjoying a pleasant breeze and the view.
"Hmmm."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Satisfaction is a funny thing."
"Don't you mean odd."
"Yes. Do you remember when Girl died, the whole family couldn't eat dinner, the boys were trying to be brave and not cry and I gave you that 'why don't you do something' look."
"Yes, I remember, Girl lived a long time, she was an old dog, fifteen if I remember correctly."
"Yes, because the oldest was fourteen. You said, 'It's OK for big boys to cry, just be brave like Old Mr. Brown and let it come out as peacefully as possible.' They had heard the stories about him many times and after you said that everyone of us, just bawled, an hour later we could eat a little. For some reason that night I felt satisfied. I thought it strange that satisfaction would come out of grief, until I remembered an entry in the diary. When I first read it I thought it was amusing, but after the children were born, I understood."
"Which entry?"
"The one where my mother started the discussion with, 'Why do men enjoy sex more than women?' and you said, 'Come now Barb.'
'I know I sound like the women we eavesdropped on in the park. I know better, but I can't help it. I know women can't imagine what a man feels any more than vice versa, but men don't understand what a woman goes through during a pregnancy, men seem to get all the pleasure and none of the pain.'
'But women get much more satisfaction.'
'What are you talking about, do you know what I went through?'
'No, like you said a man can't imagine what a woman feels, but I didn't say fun and games or pleasant and pretty, I said satisfaction. Women have several distinct advantages over a man. Only a woman can know the satisfaction of being pregnant, delivering life, and nursing a child and not only that, a woman knows the child is hers, a man can never be absolutely sure.'
Huh. Maybe that's why men are so possessive of their women, because they don't know for sure."
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing, I went off on a tangent."
"I remember that discussion, I said, 'Look at you. Do you have any idea how radiant you were during your pregnancy and after? You were as smug as a cat eating canary', she blushed and was thoughtful before she spoke, 'I have to admit, there is a feeling associated with everything you've said that can only be experienced by a woman. Maybe that's why, instinctively, I've always been satisfied with being a woman and now I know it consciously.' She grinned and glowed. I don't remember her looking as beautiful as she did then."
"It's a shame she didn't live long enough to experience the satisfaction we have had. Child rearing is tiresome, tedious, and painful, but I don't know of anything more satisfying than watching and participating with your children as they grow and learn. I feel sorry for parents who can't or don't help in raising their children."
"I agree, grand mother was right, it's the greatest satisfaction of them all. It also creates the greatest enigma for me, why aren't we better parents?"
"Maybe it's because the corollary is true, the greater the potential for satisfaction the greater the potential for disappointment. Maybe we play all those silly games to salve our egos because we are afraid we might fail and the risk is too great."
"Maybe."
"Well, I know I was, the first eight years after college. When I finally realized what I was doing, I decided to find a husband, I wanted a child. I'm very glad I did. Also, I think Old Mr. Brown enjoyed our family more than his own."
"He did. All of his children moved away, he didn't see his grandchildren very often, he could spoil ours."

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L03U06 Old Mr. Brown

Kate's remarks about Old Mr. Brown triggered my memory and I relived an unforgettable experience, one that placed Old Mr. Brown high on my idol list. He could fight as well as the movie heroes.
We finished setting up a prank and were causally leaving the scene. We were not concerned about being seen because downtown was empty at sunset and it was now dark. I stopped to look in a store window. The others were a half a block ahead of me, when three men came out of the bar, they turned and walked the same direction as we were. We ran toward the alley to get out of sight. Before I reached the alley the three men reversed direction. I ducked into the doorway of a jewelry store. I could see them through the glass doorway and the front window, if they didn't go back into the bar I was going to pretend looking at the jewelry and keep my back to them.
Before they reached the bar, Old Mr. Brown came out of the Attorney's office stairway and carefully avoided the three men. One intentionally bumped Old Mr. Brown. He apologized to the man and continued on his way, but the man would not accept his apology, he was looking for a fight.
Obviously they were strangers, no one would even think of talking mean to Old Mr. Brown. They surrounded him and began to push him. "Please fellows I don't want any trouble."
"You have trouble whether you want it or not."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Don't make me laugh. Come on hurt me." When Old Mr. Brown didn't respond, he shoved him. Old Mr. Brown shoved him out of his way and walked down the street. One grabbed him from behind and another threw a punch at him. The punch was evaded and the other thrown to the ground. The third threw a punch, but collapsed in mid swing, Old Mr. Brown's counter punch was faster. As each one got to his feet Old Mr. Brown put them back on the ground. Each time they got up more slowly than before, but they wouldn't stop.
The Attorney came down from his second story office and the Chief screeched his car to a stop. "Are you OK B1?"
"Yes, you know what to do." The Attorney and Old Mr. Brown left.
"Where is your car?"
"What's it to you?" The chief grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground. "Don't give me any lip punk or I'll kill you with my bare hands," and slammed his head on the side walk.
"Now where is your car?" Another pointed. The Chief walked over, wrote down the license plate number, returned to his own car, and sat on the fender. "Now get in your car and drive carefully out of town, and don't return."
Slowly they walked to their car and drove away with the Chief as a trailing escort. When the cars turned the corner, I walked down the street. I didn't have any difficulty finding the spot where Old Mr. Brown put the three men to the ground, blood was smeared all around.
"Gee."
I ran to the loft. The others were waiting for me in the dark, "Where have you been?"
"You'll never believe me," and I told them.
"You're right, we don't believe you, it's so contrary to everything we know about Old Mr. Brown."
"Let's check the sidewalk tomorrow morning before school. It's bed time, see you in the morning." We checked the sidewalk, it was clean and dry. We discreetly asked many people during and after school, no one had heard a thing. If anyone besides me had seen or heard anything that night, they weren't talking.
Separately we asked people to tell us what they knew about Old Mr. Brown. We didn't learn anything we didn't already know. The only stories associated with violence were, he came from a family of marksmen, he lost five brothers and a distant cousin in the second world war, and he nearly killed a KKK leader with his bare hands when he tried to preach hate and violence in front of the statue.
We knew about his shooting ability and how determined he was not to lose anymore of his 'boys'. Not only did he lose members of his family, he lost more than half of his friends. The only reason the plant did any work for the government at all was to protect his 'boys'. Every draft eligible man was employed in that department until they didn't need draft protection any longer. He made sure the draft board knew they were working in a critical position so they would be exempt from the draft. He didn't interfere with any man who wanted to enlist, that was their choice. Every vet told the same story. Before they left town, they had to have dinner with Old Mr. Brown and before dinner was over they knew how proud he was of them and that the Brown family would take care of them and their families if anything happened
Except for the KKK story not one other story indicated he could fight or ever did fight, so where did he learn to fight? The answer was so obvious we looked at one another in disbelief. We researched the library on Saturday morning. The library had many books containing newspaper clippings concerning Old Mr. Brown. In those thousand or more clippings, only two mentioned his military service. One was the story about him and twelve classmates enlisting after graduation and the other his honorable discharge as the last surviving male of his family.
It was as if a chapter was torn from his history. We were disappointed, but as usual not for long because Bountiful almost immediately said, "Let's check out the Chief and the Attorney. We went through the clippings together because there was only one thin book on the chief and only a few clippings on the Attorney in another book on miscellaneous people.
Nothing, the only thing of interest was one sentence that was common to both men when they were first hired. The town council hired the Chief over all other candidates on the recommendation of Mr. Brown and the Attorney was hired by the town law firm on the recommendation of Mr. Brown. We looked at each other, there was only one way Old Mr. Brown could know these men. Before Bob could speak, I said, "Beautiful, call Old Mr. Brown and ask if we could meet with him. Bountiful, call the Attorney and see if we can meet with him. I want to look at some pictures again."
"What analysis have you come up with this time, Brains?"
"A hunch, just a hunch. I'll bet both will tell you, 'No'."
"No! You have to be kidding. Old Mr. Brown sees everyone and the Attorney hasn't had a client in two years."
"I'll bet. Go call. Call the chief, too." I was still looking at pictures when they returned shaking their heads.
"I can't believe it. The Attorney is out of town and Old Mr. Brown can't see us until sometime next week, but the Chief will see us after lunch."
"Fine, let's go home, eat lunch, and go to the police station." We joshed and teased each other both ways, but didn't say much about what we had learned during the morning. We told the desk sergeant we had an appointment with the Chief. He went to the Chief's door, "Chief, the Three B's are here to see you."
"Ask them to wait in my car, I'll be with them as soon as I finish this phone call." He returned to us, but we were walking to the door. "Thanks." We ran to the car and slammed the doors shut, I was in the front seat and the other two in the back. "I know where we are going and who we are going to meet."
"We're going to meet the others who know about the fight, that's obvious. What else do you know?"
"Here comes the Chief, I'll tell you as we go." As the Chief got into his car, "What are you going to tell them?"
"Where we are going?"
"Well, I didn't think you would mind talking to me while I drove to and from a special meeting. You don't mind do you?"
"Certainly not."
Smiling, the Chief said, "Tell me where to go."
"Take the West River road." To the other B's, "Remember each time we stopped at the rock shelter on the Nob, we would say, 'Someone has been here recently.' Well, now I know who that someone was and why. They met at the Nob only during the day, so no one would know they met and no one would over hear their conversation by accident. Night meetings weren't as difficult because most people in Middleville stay at home after eight every night except Friday and Saturday."
"Why the Nob?" The Chief grinned, "Because no one ever went there except for the Three B's."
"What were the meetings about?"
"My guess would be that they were updating one another on the needs of the people of Middleville and who was keeping their agreements, but most importantly they were supporting one another." The chief burst out laughing, "Out of the mouths of babes," and laughed again.
The Chief parked his car beside two others with 'ears' and we walked up the Nob to the shelter. "Chief may I do the introductions?"
"Certainly."
"B's I'd like you to meet Captain Bates B3," the Chief nodded. "And First Sergeant Blackmoore B2, and Sergeant Brown B1. The Three B's meet the Three B's." As I spoke the men stepped out of the shelter and shook hands with each of us.
The Chief turned to the men, "I told you we had to talk with them, you won't believe what I've heard. I'll let them tell the rest of their story." The others nodded agreement. "OK, Brains tell the rest of your story. Why did we meet here?"
"I'll start, but the others will help," and I repeated what I had said in the car and added, "But I'll bet the most important reason was so no one else would see grown men cry.
I speak for all of us, we will keep your secret, we will never tell anyone." Bob and Barb quickly confirmed my statement.
"How did you come to these conclusions."
"Logic, deductions, and good guesses based on the stories we have read about the war. First, the Chief arrived to soon after the fight started, he must have been at the meeting, left by the back stairway, and drove around the block. Second, the news release about Billy never made sense."
Barb sat down on a stone bench as if she was carrying a very heavy load, the whole story had come together for her, tears streamed down her face. "Third, the radio messages we heard....,"
The Chief interrupted, "Why are you crying?" Beautiful stood, tears still running down her face. "Because the essay I wrote and read on Memorial Day several years ago was not true. You know the one about Mr. Brown's distant relative, Billy 'Bull' Brown. Billy didn't die saving the lives of the last three original members of a commando unit, did he?"
Now tears ran down Old Mr. Brown's face, Barb threw her arms around him and clung to him. Bountiful continued, "Let me revise the essay. Intelligence learned of an enemy commando raid on a staging area. You three were assigned to stop them so as not to disclose that our intelligence knew about the raid. You were given a squad of new replacements as a cover and to dig the fox holes you would need and to be support if necessary. More than thirty enemy soldiers died that day, a lot more.
You chose a site that was open, high, and where the enemy would have to go, such as a mountain pass. You chose where the fox holes would be dug and assigned the replacement squad to one side, out of your line of fire and sat and waited. You knew the replacement squad would give your position away. That would force the enemy to decide whether to call off the mission or to destroy the squad before it could communicate with headquarters. You knew the commandos would recognize the replacement squad as inept and would decide to destroy them. Your plan worked better than you expected because of Billy.
He received his nick name because he was so stubborn. He would never do as he was told. His actions alone would have convinced the enemy that they could destroy the squad without losing very much time. Once they closed on the replacement squad they would be committed and wouldn't quit until the last man.
You were watching carefully, when the enemy reserve squad was seven hundred yards away, B1 opened fire. I would bet that the reserve squad died before they reached six hundred yards and another rear squad before they reached five hundred. Now the enemy was focusing on one man and at five hundred yards B2 and B3 opened fire and the slaughter was on.
You always shot the enemy furthest away so the closer ones wouldn't know how many of their comrades had fallen and they would continue to think you were a terrible marksman because all of your shots missed them. The enemy probably use a standard tactic, one flank would move while the other flank provided covering fire. That forced you to shoot first in one direction and then in another.
My bet is that as B1 shot, good old Billy jumped up right into his line of fire, instead of staying down as he was told."
B1 slumped on to a stone bench with B2 and B3 on each side of him for support. Beautiful stood as they went down. "I'll bet B1 saved your lives many times and ever since you arrived in Middleville you have been trying to save his psychological life."
Old Mr. Brown's face was contorted beyond recognition with agony, but not a sound came from him. Now everyone was crying. The Three B's stood embracing one another. In order to help myself recover I turned, walked a short distance, and looked out over the only small piece of waste land in the middle of a fertile valley. This was an excellent spot for a private meeting, nothing but rock and gravel in all directions for over a half a mile. If some one came we could leave by any one of three other roads without the approaching people ever knowing we had just left.
A gust of wind shook me and then all was still. The quiet was unnerving, I turned back to the others, they had regained some composure. The men sat a little straighter and everyone had stopped crying. I put one hand on Barb's shoulder and the other on Bob's. Barb looked up at me and her face changed from sad to content. She walked over to B1 and knelt down facing him, took his hands in hers, "Mr. Brown what happened was not your fault, Billy must take responsibility for his actions. You are forgiven, why can't you forgive yourself?"
"I just can't. I can hardly face his family now, how could I ever face them if they knew I shot him in the back of his head."
"No one should ever tell them the truth, it must remain our secret. The truth in a case like this is much worse than the lie. It would only increase their pain and it wouldn't help you. Think of it this way, if they knew the truth what would happen to them?"
"It would destroy them and their relationship with the rest of the family."
"Then you are saving their lives." Again the silence was unnerving. Time was meaningless. The Chief brought everyone back to reality some moments later.
"Gentlemen is there any wonder why all the gossip in Middleville starts with, 'What did the Three B's do yesterday? Have you heard?' Pretty damn good for teen agers, wouldn't you say. They were so close they almost hit the ten ring." The Attorney said, "How do you feel B1, are you OK to travel."
"I don't feel good, but better than after most recoveries." He turned to us, "I would be honored if you would work at the plant after you graduate, choose your position and hours. I need more people I can confide my troubles with, to share the burden so to speak. It really helps to be able to talk with people who understand, even if only briefly and it would sure help my buddies, they have been a Godsend, but they have been doing over time much to long. They deserve some relief.
Could I join you the next time you go hiking? How about biking?" We looked at one another and said in unison, "We would be honored to accept all you have offered."
"I like the biking idea, do you have bikes?"
"No."
"I'll take care of that." He looked at the sun angle, "We better leave." B1 left first taking the shortest route, followed by B2 taking the next shortest route, and we took the longest route.
The Chief drove slow, he wanted to talk. Obviously, he considered us his confidants as well. He told us things we had never heard. He corrected our revised version of the essay, our guesses were remarkably close. "You were right, more than thirty enemy soldiers died that day and more than a hundred surrendered.
The enemy commander surrendered when he realized he was in a trap. We weren't alone and B2 and I never fired a shot. We provided outside flank support for two heavy machine guns and their ammo carriers. The machine guns closed the gates of the trap with their fire. We were to stop any enemy soldiers that managed to get through their fire. No one did.
B1 and the replacement squad were to keep the enemy from shooting the gunners from the inside. The replacement squad was on both sides of B1 with orders not to shoot unless they had to and they were not to leave their holes.
If B1 had a choice, he never fired more than three rounds in one direction or from one position. That day he had a choice. The replacement squad dug six fox holes for him, each connected by a trench forming a small circle on the side of the hill. B1 shot several times and moved to another hole. He changed directions and choose holes randomly. Billy moved to four different fox holes ending in one of B1's lower holes before he stood in B1's line of fire.

Stupidity"
He shook his head, "I can't believe those stupid men, picking a fight with B1, that man is such a cool, calm, calculated killer.
I'm glad I got to the fight before he went over the edge. Those stupid fools would've been grease spots in another minute. B1 would have transformed into a killing machine by then.
Fools will fight with anyone and never realize the danger they are in.
I almost lost my cool because of their stupidity. If any one of them had given me any more lip, I would have killed them myself. That's why we meet on a regular basis, we keep pulling each other back from the brink. He saved our lives many times beginning with our first fight.
None of us had been in combat before, no one had killed anyone before, and when the time came all the bravado evaporated and everyone of us buried our heads at the bottom of our fox holes. Not him, I was in a hole several yards behind and to the right of him. When the enemy artillery barge stopped and the enemy soldiers came within his range he began to shoot. I never met a man who could shoot so fast and so accurate. All I could hear was bam bam bam pause, bam bam bam pause, over and over, interleaved with a ping as his clip ejected.
Soon he was out of ammo. He yelled above the noise, "If you bastards won't shoot, give me your ammo." No one moved, he yelled again, "Give me your ammo." B2 crawled out of his hole and gave him his and then crawled to other holes and took their ammo to him. As soon as he had more ammo, it started again, bam bam bam pause. The tempo slowed, he only shot once in a while and his tempo deceased even more as time passed. After sunset he yelled, "Stay in your holes, don't move, I'll shoot any movement I see." His tempo continued to slow, till at dawn all was quiet.
I finally had enough nerve to look around, B1 was cleaning his weapon. I couldn't see any movement so I stood and used my binoculars. I couldn't see any movement as far as I could see. I yelled 'all clear' and walked over to B1's hole, he had disappeared. He was sound asleep at the bottom of his hole.
I walked around to survey the aftermath, two enemy soldiers had penetrated our position and many were directly in front of it. I checked each squad, no one had been hit. As the men slowly crawled out of their holes and saw the dead men and realized how close they were with death, some became sick and puked their guts out, the rest stared at the results of one man with a sick look on their faces.
B2 came over and I told him to take three men and make sure the dead were dead and to redistribute the ammunition. The rest of us slept or ate or sat and stared. B2 came back, 'You'll never believe this, all rounds are accounted for, there is a body for every round he fired. He didn't miss and he never shot the same man twice.'
Later when we could talk about it, the whole platoon asked, 'How did you do it, how could you kill another man?'
'I didn't kill another man, I killed dogs that were trying to kill my uncle's sheep. If you think of them as men, as human beings, you will never kill.'
No one said a word, we just slowly drifted away.
Artillery rounds exploded a short distance away and everyone dove for cover. When the barge stopped, a few joined in when he began to fire. The fighting stopped at sunset and began again at sunrise. This time more fired when he did. By noon the entire platoon was shooting, if they hadn't we would not have survived.
The enemy kept coming and coming. When they finally withdrew, a third of the platoon was dead or wounded. A runner stopped, exhausted, in front of me, when he could speak, 'Lieutenant, the general is putting your unit in for commendations, your valiant effort may have saved the entire battle. You and your men are to report to battalion headquarters as soon as the morgue detail arrives.'
I didn't know where battalion headquarters were. We were thrown into the battle by a general to replace an annihilated battalion. He had used all of his reserves and reinforcements wouldn't arrive in time.
Later I learned, on that third day, our platoon had repelled an enemy infantry battalion, they withdrew because their loses were so high. I walked over to B1, "I'm going to put you in for a medal.' He didn't say a thing for over a minute, he held my eyes with a cold icy stare. I swear I stopped breathing and my heart stopped beating. I was freezing. I never felt that cold, ever. 'Don't you dare give me a medal for killing men', and after a short pause, 'Sir'.
Before our next battle everyone watched and did what he did. If he had the time before a fight, he would pig out the day before and then get ready. He always checked his rifle last. Then he would sit and stare, he wouldn't eat or drink or talk, just sit and stare. When B2 said, 'Let's go', all his movements were smooth, methodical, and calculated, no wasted energy. He had ice water in his veins, nothing distracted him from what he had to do. People could die next to him or shells could explode near him, it was as if nothing had happened.
When asked about it, 'I'm a dead man, dead men have no worries'. Soon our platoon and later our company was know as the 'machine'. We lived longer than the men in other units, but it also meant that headquarters always gave us the roughest assignments.
I will not try to guess how many he killed, he killed however he had to, with his rifle, his bayonet, his bare hands. But can you imagine those stupid fools wanting to fight with him. I can't," he slammed his hand against the dashboard, "Stupidity, damn stupidity.
Enough, I've recalled more than I can handle and I didn't want to recall any of it."
He asked questions and got us to talking until we were home. Old Mr. Brown did take care of 'that'. He stopped and talked to our parents and told them, "If you missed your children it was my fault. They were helping me and I lost track of the time. New bikes will be delivered some time next week and they earned every penny of the cost.
If it is convenient I would like to go biking with them next Saturday at ten."
The king had come to our homes and had spoken to them and had asked them for a favor. We couldn't have brought greater honor to them. After that, in our parents eyes we could do no wrong. They reminded us almost every day lest we forget about the bike ride on Saturday.
Old Mr. Brown said we influenced him much more than he influenced us, but I don't see how that was possible. His influence on us, our families, and our lives was incredible. We learned very quickly not to mention anything we wanted or desired, even in the most casual way because if he could get it or do it, it was done.
He wanted to see our loft. We were pleased to show him. He examined everything and wanted to know how we used it, what we learned, how we learned it, and what our plans were. He was amused by our radio and camping equipment. By the end of the month we had new back packs and a new receiver-transmitter and antenna. Our parents never said a word.
I would like to think we did influence him, the Chief, and the Attorney, but how can you ever be sure? We made a point of talking to each of them at least once a week in person or by radio if they didn't visit the loft. All three were married before we graduated from college.
In turn, Old Mr. Brown, with the help of the Chief and the Attorney, slowly converted us from being pranksters into minor assistants for his philanthropy. He would beam from ear to ear as he told us how we had helped him, many times without knowing we were doing so. It was a pleasant experience to hear him tell how he had snuck one passed us, obviously, he enjoyed it.
He encouraged our interest in science and later, in engineering. He provided us with scholarships and a car for college. He suggested Bob and I join the local national guard, the Korean war ended the same month as our graduation from high school.
The older B's protected us from ourselves and paid for any damage we did. He replaced the high school physics lab. He made sure our parents had complimentary tickets to all our school activities and made sure they had transportation. The older B's were our biggest fans at our athletic events, at home and away. They chaperoned all our dances. They remained our friends for life.

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L03U07 Eavesdropping

The most frequent stories we heard, at first, were about Old Mr. Brown, how his brothers died, each in a different battle and in a different branch of service. The last one died on D-day, Old Mr. Brown was home before September, the Chief and the Attorney arrived in Middleville before December. Most of the stories included how smart he was to convince his father to convert the plant over to making home appliances. The plant was in full production before the baby boom began.
Another frequent story was about Herbie, he was Middleville's first war hero. He pulled a pilot from his burning plane, in the process he burned his hands and legs. He was released from the hospital and returned home the same day as Old Mr. Brown. When anyone asked Old Mr. Brown about his involvement in the war, he would say, "Let's talk about Herbie, a real hero," side stepping any further discussion about himself.
Later, the most frequent conversation was, "I hear you are expecting, when is the baby due?", a date would be given and, "I'm so happy for you." The women would hug and talk about pregnancy, deliveries, and babies. By then it was old hat because we had followed the pregnancy of Julie. She married her high school sweetheart in June, the same year Old Mr. Brown returned home.
Her husband, a wounded vet, was discharged early. She met her sister, Amy a high school senior, every Saturday in the park, weather permitting. We were playing Chinese checkers some distance away, but the wind blew their conversation to us. "What's it like?"
"Married life is wonderful."
"That's not what I mean and you know it." Her sister frowned and looked at the river, "He's an animal."
"And you put up with it? Why?"
"Because." "Why?"
"I like it when he's an animal." She blushed and changed the subject. Amy asked the same question each time they met and Julie avoided it every time. In late October, Julie answered the question with, "I'm pregnant." Amy never asked the question again, now all questions were about pregnancy and babies.
We heard a week by week account, much of which we didn't understand until we read the second pamphlet. Julie had difficulty with all her pregnancies and deliveries, but she didn't complain. In April, Julie grimaced, "What's wrong Julie?"
"The little bugger kicked me hard."
"Who?"
"The baby, silly. Give me your hand." She took Amy's hand and placed it on the side of her large abdomen. "Did you feel him?"
"Yes. He kicks harder than I thought."
"He's almost ready to come out and then I will be a mother and you will be an aunt." They hugged and laughed.
Now we knew for certain that babies grew inside a woman and she had to do more than hold his hand, but how did the baby get inside her?
When the baby boom was in full swing, people came to the park more frequently. Expectant couples sat and looked wistfully at the river and young mothers pushed their baby carriages through the park giving the older women much to talk about. "I wish I had a child," was a frequent theme among the unmarried women of the previous generation and the childless war widows. Another was the pain and unpleasantness of pregnancy and child birth.
If this was true why did women want babies? This point was brought to a sharp focus one Saturday afternoon. We listened to two women talk about Julie's unpleasant pregnancies and difficult deliveries. When they left, Julie and her husband sat quietly on the same bench, their two children had finally fallen asleep in the buggy. A few minutes later a friend stopped to show them her new baby. The women 'ohed' and 'ahed' and her husband agreed, "She is a beautiful baby." Of course Julie had to hold the baby. After the ritual was over and the young mother moved on, Julie turned to her husband, "Can we have another? I want another baby. They're so cute. Can we?
He didn't answer until she nudged him. "I guess so." She was obviously pleased with his answer, she threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately. With an odd look on her face, she stood and moved the buggy, a look that Bob and I would respond to instantly after the Day of Ice, when it appeared on Barb's face. She was ready and wanted her man, now.
"What are you doing?"
"We're going home."
"Home? We've only been in the park a few minutes. Why are we going home?" She reached down, took his hand, and pulled on his arm to get him to stand, "Silly boy, we're going home to start another one if the children stay asleep."
We looked at one another in amazement. Why would a woman be so anxious to have another after so much discomfort and difficulty? We understood, when we were in college, sex is directed by an exquisitely choreographed set of stimuli. Each partner responds in a prescribed manner to each stimulus. People think they have a choice, but in reality we have very little choice, given the proper time and place, everyone of us will respond, we will dance according to the script.
Another frequent theme was lying. People lied to each other and to themselves, most often they lied about sex. Men took advantage of women and women took advantage of men. Two senior boys were talking about sports and we didn't pay much attention to them until their conversation turned to sex.
"I heard you got some from Marylou. How did you do that? Everyone else said she would never came across for them."
"I gave her an engagement ring and every time she stopped me, I said, 'Keep looking at the ring, honey.' She did, she held it at arms length and admired it, and let me continue doing what I wanted to do."
"You're not going to marry her, are you?"
"No. I already broke up with her. She carried on for weeks. She still wants me back, but I'm not interested in her anymore." With an approving tone in his voice, "You dirt rat, you lied to her and got away with it."
"A real shame isn't it."
"Nice work if you can get it, isn't it?"
"Sure is. What about you? I heard you broke up with your girlfriend."
"I had to, my mom caught us in bed."
"You're kidding. What did she do?"
"She turned beet red and closed the door. She wouldn't talk to me for a week, then she told me I couldn't have my girlfriend over to our house any more and she was going to talk to her mother."
"Did she?"
"Yes. That's why we broke up, our mothers decided for us. I tried to tell my mother she didn't need to worry, I played 'Greyhound', I always pulled out in time. She said, 'What do you mean', and I said, 'If you don't come in a girl, she can't get pregnant'."
"What did she say to that?"
"She blushed, 'You're supposed to wait until you're married before you do things like that."
"What happened after that?"
"Can we talk about something else, I don't feel right about it some how."
"You're in love with her."
"No, I'm not."
They returned to sports and we tuned them out. The one died before thirty, syphilis. The story we heard was he lied so often he even lied to himself until it was to late, he wasn't sick. The other married his girlfriend the week after they graduated from high school. We didn't understand what 'come' and 'Greyhound' meant until after we read the second pamphlet and after the Day of Ice the words became an actuality. Barb didn't like it when we played 'Greyhound' and neither did Bob and I, but we would not and could not stop having sex, even though we were on an emotional roller coaster.
Some time after the Day of Ice, we listened to two recent high school graduates.
"How did you get him to propose?"
"Told him I was pregnant."
"You what?"
"I told him I was pregnant."
"Were you?"
"No, I wasn't, but he didn't know that."
"Are you now?"
"Yes and I hope he doesn't know how to count."
"How did you get him to do it in the first place?"
"It doesn't take much to get a man started, you ought to know that."
"How am I to know that, I've only had two dates my entire life and they wouldn't even hold my hand. How did you get him to do it?"
"I got him to kiss me on our first date. I slid next to him on the front seat of his car and blew gently into his ear and kept my face close to him when he turned. On our second date he put his arm around me and I made sure his hand made contact with my breast. From then on I just let him do what he wanted and anytime he stopped I whispered, 'It's OK honey'."
"Was it OK?"
"No. I was scared the whole time, but I wanted a husband so bad, I was willing to do almost anything."
"You sure did."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, you're my friend, I'll forgive you, but will he?"
"I sure hope so because now I'm in love with the crazy guy. I always thought love was a fairy tale. Now, I don't know what I will do if he changes his mind. It hurts, just to think about it." She put her head on her friend's shoulder and cried. We could empathize with her, we would ache when ever we were apart. From later conversations, she lived the rest of her life with that nagging fear.
More than a year later we over heard two matrons of Middleville. "The older of the two is a bad influence on the younger man. He brags about all the women he takes to his house. He claims he sleeps with all of them and gives the younger man bad advice. As you know he lives next door to me, we share a common driveway. His house is the mirror image of mine. All our doors are next to the driveway.
From my stairway window I can see everyone that come and goes from his house and I've never seen a woman enter or leave."
"Even before sunrise or after sunset."
"You know my rheumatism gets me up at all hours of the day and night and I've never seen him bring anyone home at night and I've never seen him come or go before sunrise."
"I never did believe any of his stories others have told me. We've known these women all our lives and I don't know any one of them who would even give him the time of day.
He was bragging to the other man as we walked into the park about having Mrs. Johnson in his bedroom. I know for a fact that he has not been to her house. You know the young widow I'm talking about, the one that lives across the street from me?"
"Yes, I don't talk to her very often, but I know who you are talking about."
"I'll bet you don't know who does call after dark and leaves before sunrise?"
"Do you mean she's seeing some one on a regular basis, who?"
"That nice young man at the bank, Mr. Jones."
"Oh, my, I would never have guessed. How often?"
"Two or three times a month."
"That's hard to believe. The other men razz him about not knowing what to do with a woman. He claims to have never dated a woman. I've heard him say so."
"Well you'll be even more surprised to learn, according to his mother, he's taking care of three other war widows."
"You don't say, his own mother?"
"Yes and she should know she lives across the street from her son and says she has seen each of them come to his house for dinner and not leave until after dark, sometimes early the next morning. He picks them up and drives them back. She says he does odd jobs for each of them and helps with the groceries."
"Do each know he is seeing the others?"
"From what I've heard they do."
"Oh, my. Now, I understand why he would deny having a date, he doesn't want anyone to know about his double life, especially the women. Doesn't he know the women know?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
"My. Isn't it odd, the ones who claim they do, don't and the ones that claim they don't, do."
We had to concur with her last statement.
We could understand why people would lie to others but we couldn't understand why they would lie to themselves, were their egos to weak?
Another young woman, Nancy, we found amusing. She would tell anyone who would listen how her boyfriend would paw her every time they had a date. Barb told us to watch her and then it was easy to understand. As soon as he was behind the wheel, she would slide tight against him and turn the rear view mirror so she could see her hair. She would arch her back and put her left hand, with her elbow held high, on top of her head to hold her hair in place, both actions accented her bust line which didn't need to be accented. Then she rotated her shoulders left and right several times while she combed. With each turn he had to move out of the way of her right breast, it would nearly touch his nose.
"The poor guy, what did she think would be on his mind the rest of the date?"
"I'll bet she does it on purpose so what ever happens is all his fault. She's not taking responsibility for her actions."
"I don't think she's smart enough to do it consciously."
"Don't mothers teach their daughters about things like that?"
"My mother never did. I think, instinctively, she knows men are visual animals, but not at the conscious level."
"I agree, women say they dress for other women, but in reality they dress to attract men."
"I'm glad they do, I enjoy the attraction, but women have a problem here, they don't have to do much to attract me, just their shape is enough and when they move, wow."
"So that's why you have a sore neck."
"But seriously, what's a woman to do?"
"All she can do is avoid being overt."
Another set of interesting conversations, heard over several years, occurred between Melissa and her aunt, Melissa became our friend after we graduated for college. The first conversations were boring because Melissa was only concerned about her appearance. She didn't like anything about her body and her clothes never looked the way she wanted. Her aunt had the patience of a saint and slowly taught her. She reached her limit one afternoon, "Melissa, you're not beautiful, but you have what men want, so stop all this complaining, you don't need to be any more attractive than you are."
"How can you say that, I look horrible."
"A baited trap doesn't need honey. You want to attract a man, not flies. And you will attract enough of them. I keep hoping you will grow up."
Melissa blanched. She was hesitant during the rest of the conversation and never again talked like a silly school girl about her appearance.
A friend of the aunt approached them one day, "I've never been so embarrassed my whole life." "Well tell me about it, I know you will anyway."
"I had a dinner party last week and Old Mr. Brown told me after I greeted him that he could not stay. Then he went to each of my guests, 'I'm sorry I can't stay, but I want to say hello to you before I leave', and then he left before dinner was served. I've never been so humiliated."
"I'll bet none of you guests were."
"How did you know?"
"Why you probably charmed them with your intelligent conversation and your engaging wit."
"That's very kind of you. You're probably right, none of my guests seemed to miss Old Mr. Brown at all. I've always enjoy talking with you, you are so understanding, till we meet again."
As she left, Melissa turned to her aunt, "She didn't understand a word you said."
"She should have known her guests knew about Old Mr. Brown. I know them and they are aware of the demands on his time. He certainly has more important things to do than attend her dinner parties.
I have difficulty with people who don't use their brains, but always treat everyone as kindly as you can and try to show respect even if you don't respect them."
"That's confusing, how can I show respect for someone I don't respect."
"Show respect for the person, not their actions. And remember Melissa, only one person can embarrass you."
"Who's that?"
"You have some more growing up to do."
Several years later they sat on the same bench across the street from the statue.
"I'm disappointed I didn't get my MRS. degree. I didn't meet a man I wanted for a husband, but I can answer your question. I can choose my emotional state of mind; therefore, no one can insult me, embarrass me, humiliate me, or any of those words except for myself."
A young man screeched his brand new shiny convertible sports car to a stop in front of them.
"I wonder what he's doing in Middleville and why is he stopping in front of us?"
"We'll soon find out."
"I only met him once, at a reception following graduation at state. His father made a fortune in real estate after the war and bought him everything, including his grades."
His dress was immaculate, his shoes were shined to a mirror finish. He twirled an Alpha Beta Psi key on a gold chain as he walked toward them. He curled his fingers and blew on his finger nails before he spoke, "Get in the car Melissa and I'll take you for a ride."
"Sorry, not today. Maybe another time."
"I'm picking Ann up in an hour," and he exposed a gold wrist watch and didn't even look at it, "and I will be with Shirley on Sunday. I have to leave shortly after that. This is the only time you can go with me."
"Not today. Drive carefully."
"OK. It's your loss and it's the last time I'll do you a favor." He squealed the tires as he pulled away from the curb.
"A fly."
"Why, Melissa! There's hope for you yet! I know you were excited when he stopped, what changed you mind."
"He didn't show any respect."
"Go on."
"Well, first he didn't introduce himself to you and I know he doesn't know you. Second, and even more important to me, he never asked me to go with him, he told me, he didn't give me a choice. When he told me about his other dates, I would have hit him with a baseball bat if I had one. He was only thinking about himself. By the time he left I felt sick, his display of his manicured finger nails, his key, and his watch were nauseating. I liked his clothes, his car, his good looks, and his brains, but I couldn't stomach the rest of him."
"Well done, Melissa."
"Also, he never signaled before he stopped. The driver behind him nearly rear ended him."
"Very well done, Milissa. You observed more than I did and you have learned a very important point, one every woman should learn. Most women pay attention to what a man says when they should pay very close attention to a man's actions and when his actions are contrary to his words they should dump like a hot potato. You're ready now."
"Ready for what?"
"To meet some men."
"What men, I don't know any in this town?"
"Well, they're a little older than you, but I don't think that will make any difference, you have finally matured."
"Who? Tell me who?"
"In due time. Would you be willing to meet them at one of my dinner parties?"
"You're a schemer Auntie and you know I am. Who? When? How soon?"
"One at a time, starting with my dinner party next Saturday." Two years later she married Old Mr. Brown.

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L03U08 The Last Entry

Kate died two years ago, melanoma, she didn't last long. The last golden retriever Old Mr. Brown gave me died six months ago. He died ten years before. I opened our diary and wrote my last entry.
"All of my generation and older are dead. I'm the last one and now it's my turn. I don't know of anything wrong with me, I just know. I'll be ninety three in two months, but I won't make it. I've never felt this tired before. I spent the last two years rereading our log and diary and made any additions I thought necessary so the record will be as complete as my memory would allow. I began the diary two years after the accident to provide a more complete record of the Three B's because the log only contained summaries. I wanted Kate to know her parents. I gave her the diary and log to read after I taught her about sex. I made addition so our children will have a record of their parents.
The children and grandchildren are all doing very well. They are as well adjusted and as happy as Kate and I were. We enjoyed our children and grandchildren very much. Maybe some day they will understand the satisfaction we have enjoyed."
Having written that, a very poignant memory returned. I wrote the pages of the diary and log containing the memory and added, I know you will read this entry. I hope you will be able to extract and understand what I'm to tired to write.

Love Dad.

We were juniors when Barb had her only knock down drag out argument with her mother. It began when her mother told Barb she didn't approve of her spending so much time with Bob and me. Each day she added to the criticism. Barb responded, "It's my life and I will do what I want," and proceeded to attack her mother's points in an unkind manner. Her mother added, "So much time in the loft together, kissing and hugging, avoiding other young people, swimming together, camping together, sleeping together."
On the eighth day she added, "And you should hear the rumors I've been hearing."
"You'd believe rumors before you would believe me," and Barb unleashed a torrent of unkind remarks. Her mother returned word for word. The volume increased until they were both screaming at each other, both were crying.
When her mother couldn't think of anything new to say she repeated herself over and over. The argument ended when she said, "You won't go to college if you keep fooling around with those boys." Barb yelled, "You don't know for sure do you?"
"No."
"I hate you," and ran to the loft. Bob and I tried to comfort her and offered many solutions. She rejected them all. No, she wasn't going to change what we were doing together, she didn't want to socialize with others, and she was not going to stop having sex with us. She loved us, she wanted us, she didn't want us to be apart any longer than necessary.
We reaffirmed our vow of staying together. "What am I going to do?" We held her and let her cry, we didn't have any new solutions. "I know one thing, I'm going to teach our children about sex and I'm going to do it different from anything I've read. I'm going to tell them sex is good, sex is enjoyable. I don't know of anything more satisfying. (She didn't live to see her child grow or she may have modified her statement. My addition.)
Before I had sex I didn't know what my body and my feelings were trying to tell me. Afterwards, I knew my body wanted to be pregnant and my feelings were telling me to have sex so my body would get pregnant. I also knew I could get temporary relief from those feelings by having sex plus the enjoyment of sex itself, making it much more difficult to tell my body, 'NO'.
The flesh is strong it knows what it wants. It's the mind that's weak, it keeps giving in to the flesh and once you start it's very difficult to stop. The risks are to great. The best course is to avoid sex, avoid all stimulation. When you begin to date realize that you are really looking for a mate. Handle your feelings and those you date with kid gloves. Treat what you are doing very seriously. It's not cute or smart or fashionable or the social thing to do, like some parents think. It's life and death."
Later when we were in college the topic came up again and Barb added, "How can children not grow up with the wrong attitude toward sex, they are constantly bombarded with sexual stimuli. Look at our society, our entertainment, our merchandising. When will our country grow up and do our children a favor and stop selling something that doesn't need to be sold.
If we sell sex to sell a product is the product worth it? Is making a profit the real bottom line?" Barb was very moody for more than a week and she didn't speak to her mother. We went over possible solutions each day. Bob said, "Let's go to the park and eavesdrop, maybe we will hear something that will give us a new solution."
We put our ground cloth a short distance behind a bench near the river, sat on it, and read. A short time later, two senior girls walked slowly, hand in hand to the bench. One was crying and the other was trying to console her. We couldn't hear everything they said, but it wasn't difficult to understand the problem. She was pregnant and didn't want to marry the guy and he didn't want to marry her. It was all his fault he was the one who insisted. Why did she let him? The conversation was repeated several times before both fell silent and watched the water. She stood, "I might as well go home and tell my mother and get the yelling and screaming over with. Maybe after she calms down she will suggest something."
After the girls left, we looked around. The park was empty and we couldn't see anyone walking toward it. We got up stretched, and walked by the river. When we turned away from the river a young man walked down Brown Avenue and sat on the bench opposite the statue. We nudged one another. We silently agreed to move behind him, maybe someone would join him. He sat with his hands clasped across his knees and his head bent over his hands.
We put our ground cloth down under a tree behind and to his right. A row of bushes blocked our view of him when we sat down. We could see another young man walking around the court house. When he saw the one on the bench he walked over and asked, "What's the matter Joe?"
"My dumb girlfriend got pregnant." We looked at one another.
"Wonderful news. I wondered why you looked so depressed. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I suppose I'll have to marry her."
"You don't want to do that?"
"No. It's all her fault, she never was ready when I came to walk her to school."
"What do you mean?"
"Her parents both work and she would meet me at the door in her bathrobe. I had to sit on the couch and wait for her to dress. We had to run to school so we wouldn't be late.
Later she insisted that I come as soon as her parents left for work so we wouldn't be late for school. One day she let her robe fall open. She did it on purpose. We skipped school that day. After that we were late for school almost every day.
It's all her fault. Damn it."
A young woman walked around the corner of the court house. "Cheer up Joe, let's watch Melissa." Joe sat up, "You're right she sure is neat. She could have a better looking face, but what a body, very well proportioned."
"Look at those."
"Bounce nice don't they?"
"I can't wait until she turns the corner."
"You want to see if she has a swing on her back porch."
"Sure, she has a nice wiggle and I want to see all of it."
"Let's follow her."
Barb looked at us, "Do men really talk about women like that?"
"Yes. Sometimes worse."
"I don't believe it."
"You should hear them in the locker room after a ball game."
"I'm depressed enough, don't tell me. Let's go back to the loft."
We stopped to say 'Hi' to grandmother. "Grandmother, why don't people take responsibility for their actions?"
"They haven't for a long time, Honey."
"What do you mean?"
"Well according to Genesis, people have not taken responsibility for their acts since the beginning."
We went to the loft and remained silent thinking about what grandmother had said. "I don't believe it, we did it again, we should've asked grandmother about your problem with your mother."
We watched Barb walk to the porch. Grandmother was brief as usual and soon Barb hugged her and ran back to the loft.
"What did she say?"
'I don't agree with what your mother has said and done, nor with you?'
'Why?'
'Did you make matters worse?'
She didn't have to say anymore, I knew I had. I had made the same error that so many had made in the sad stories we heard in the park. I made a bad situation worse.
I could've prevented the whole argument. All I had to do was ask my mother what was bothering her, at anytime before we blew up and I'm positive I could've handled anything she might have said.
I know what I have to do, I just have to have the courage to do it. "Barb lay face down on the blankets, we held her hands and stroked her arms. Barb waited for what she thought was the right moment and apologized to her mother.
"What did you tell her?"
"She let me talk and I told her, 'I'm not you, I've learned different things, I've had different experiences, I have to live the way I think is best. Some things I don't want to change and some things I won't change. I hope you can accept me as I am.'
I didn't get to finish my prepared speech. She cried and hugged me so tight I couldn't talk. When she relaxed her grip we both apologized and agreed to accept each other as we were.
She said she loved me and was proud of me, but she was worried about me.

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