Author: melgrieves

The first time I saw him, I was struck by how good looking he was – dark hair, dark eyes, and he appeared to be athletically built besides.  And to top it all off, he was moving into my neighborhood!  I and probably a lot of others, particularly of the female persuasion, are easily attracted to good-looking specimens like him.  Naturally, I was looking forward to meeting him.  

He turned out to be friendly, eager to meet each new neighbor, and once he knew you, he continued to greet you happily each time he saw you.   When he was with any residents in a social setting, he was very good about expressing his appreciation for the food some people brought to those occasions.  He was alert to everything around him, and smart too – he seemed to catch on quickly to how things are done, schedules for different activities, etc., and looked forward to each social occasion.

As I suspected, he was an active kind of guy – I’d see him running for exercise.  Now most of us in my neighborhood are a bit older, and most are a bit slower than in years past – not this guy.   This guy was something else – he was fast, spry, agile even.  He wasn’t interested in the exercise equipment inside the pavilion either  – no, he was more of an outdoors guy.  He liked nature and all it had to offer.  He seemed to like working or recreating or doing anything outdoors.

You get the picture – movie star looks, smart, friendly, athletic  – what more could a lady want in a friend or companion?  And he seemed almost eager to please all those around him.  Once he got to know you, he would practically jump through hoops to please you.  He could be quiet at times, but was immediately energized when his friends wanted to get together.  He loved getting together with his friends.  In my area, he counted Ken, Gayle, Annie, Linda, Chris, Marilyn, Anita, Luke, me, and of course Gina among his friends.  But his best friends in the neighborhood are named Poppy, Sachi and Solene.  Piper is a real blue ribbon catch, ladies – if you can keep up with him!

Today was the day, Harry thought to himself. He had feelings of anticipation and fear and excitement.  I’m going to ask Mary Lou Wyneski to the Junior Prom. The plan was in place and he was ready.

Harold (Harry) Lindstrom, aged fifteen and three quarters, was ready to get into the dating scene. He had his driver’s license, just, was now a little taller than all the girls in his class except Jane “the stilt” Williams. No one had the height that she had. That’s why none of the guys liked to stand to close to her, plus all of his friends had a date to the school dance.

Harry stood in front of the mirror and studied his face. Just a few pimples but not bad, and the cuts from using his Dad’s razor had almost healed up. He tilted his head a little and decided he looked a lot like Ricky Nelson. If only his hair was longer he thought. It took forever to grow out after that last buzz cut his Mother had given him. He slapped some Brylcreem on the scalp and combed a perfect part on the left side of his head. “A little dab’l do ya “is what the commercial says and that’s what Harry did. Maybe I’ll put just a little more on, he thought. Never hurts. He worked another dab into the hair.

Harry found some Aqua Velva in the medicine cabinet and doused a little in his hands. Whoee! That stuff was strong, he thought to himself. He decided to take it easy putting that on my face.

He put on his best jeans and clean shirt had the cool button down collar feature, inspected his finger nails, rubbed his brown leather loafers on the back of his calves to give them a shine, pulled his white socks just a bit, and put the new fashion thin belt through the pant loops.

She can’t resist me for sure he thought as he gave a salute to the image in the mirror and headed downstairs for breakfast, the taps on the heels of his shoes announcing his arrival.

“Well don’t you look smart today?” His mother said as she poured milk on his Cheerios.

“Big day today, huh.” She added.

Harry had confided in her his plans but made her promise, cross her heart, not to say anything to his Dad until after it was done. She crossed her heart, buttoned her lips then zipped them. Dad sometimes was too much.

“Yep, I’m going to do it.” I said with hidden excitement.

Just then his Dad walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, Rudolph Valentino, gonna pop the big question today, huh? Let me give you a few pointers from the old master.” He said in a plenty loud voice.

Harry glanced up and over to the corner of the kitchen where his mother stood.

“Thanks a lot, Mom.” he said with a slight edge to his voice.

She just shrugged.

“Now, make sure you get in a quiet area so the other kids aren’t snooping into your conversation, okay, then come right out and propose your plan straight out and no hemming and hawing. A girl doesn’t like a guy to pussy foot around when it comes to a date, right Mother?” he said.

Harry rolled my eyes and tried to hide behind the Cheerios Box. He had developed his own plan. He wished he were deaf right at that moment.

“Ya gotta come across as a smooth, cool dude, like I was, right Mother?” his Dad said then looked at Mom for approval.

His father came over and ruffled Harry’s hair.

“The way you smell with at aftershave you’ll knock her off her feet.” He said and laughed loudly at his own words.

Now I have to comb my hair all over again, Harry thought angrily. Sometimes he just hated his Dad.

“Now Pete, just leave the boy alone and let him do things his way.” His mother said softly.

Sure, after you blabbed to Dad, Harry thought.

The walk to school took about twenty minutes. Harry met his friends, Meatball and Patrick, along the way. They had been the three musketeers since forever.

“You ready to ask Mary Lou?” Patrick said in a nonchalant way. He had been Harry’s best friend since the first grade, and lived across the street.

They moved down the sidewalk with only the taps that had nailed to their shoe heels making any noise.

“What if she says no?” Harry asked.

“Well then the heck with her, find another date.” His pal suggested.

“But I don’t want to go with anyone else?” Harry whined.

“Then stay home and be miserable.” Patrick said.

He always had a suggestion, good or bad. That’s what friends were for Harry guessed.

“Hey guys, wait up.” Came a voice behind the two.

They turned around to see Mike aka Meatball Slovinski, running up the sidewalk. He was big; no he was fat, but didn’t mind the nickname. He was holding up his pants and trying to put a belt through the loops. Meatball was always late. Harry got into an argument in the fourth grade with another kid and Mike came between the two fighters and just stared at Harry’s opponent until he took off. Since that day they had been friends and shared in a lot of adventures.

“Come on, slow down, what’s the hurry?” Meatball said as he approached the two.

“Harry’s going to ask Mary Lou Wyneski to the prom today.” Patrick announced.

Meatball’s eyes got big.

“Really, Mary Lou Wyneski? Why her?” Meat said with little tact.

“Just because.” Harry said.

The conversation quickly turned to the science test that was coming up in second period, the lousy football game the weekend before, and the sweet 57 Chevy Belair convertible that Russ Hornsby, a senior, was driving around. They discussed what cars they were going to get when it was time.

Harry was involved with the talk but in the back of his minds he was going through his plan to ask for a date. He gulped as the thought of doing this might be too much for his nervous system.

Patrick was right, if it didn’t happen, no big deal Harry thought. He would just go out and kill myself.

The day just dragged by as Harry prepared to actually ask a girl for a date. He had never done so before, ever. Mary Lou sat across from him in several classes and smiled at him a lot. Harry thought she was really pretty. Her hair was usually nice except when her aunt gave her a permanent and her hair ended up looking like she put her finger in an electric outlet. She wore colorful bows in her hair, she had cool cat eye glasses with all kinds of shiny gems around the edges, and her front teeth didn’t stick out as much as they used to since she started wearing braces. Yep, she was the one.

History class finally ended as Harry rushed over to Mary Lou’s desk before she could leave. He stood next to her, his heart pounding.

She looked up.

“Hi Harry, she said a little startled, what did you think of that story about the Magna Carta, really crazy right?”

That was the last thing Harry wanted to discuss.

“It was cool, but will you go to the prom with me.” He blurted out suddenly.

That wasn’t how he had rehearsed the proposal but it was out there now.

Mary Lou stopped reaching for her books and looked at Harry for what seemed to be forever.

“No.” she said quickly.

Harry’s heart fell through his feet. How could this happen, after all the planning?

“No?” he said feeling like a broken man.

“I mean I have to ask my Dad if I can go.” Mary Lou explained.

“If he says okay then I would like that, very much.” She finished.

She would like it very much, wow, Harry thought.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow before class.” She announced.

Mary Lou got up to leave, then stopped just a few inches from Harry. He started to hyperventilate.

“What’s your last name again?” she asked.

“Lindstrom, Harold Lindstrom.” Harry said with some hidden disgust in his voice with having to share that information.

Boy, he thought, unbelievable.

Mr. Wyneski must have given his approval because Mary Lou walked by Harry at his desk the next day and gave Harry a big emphatic nod yes and told him that they could talk about it later. Mary Lou gave him her telephone number on a pink piece of paper, folded in the shape of a heart. Harry didn’t hear a single word from the teacher about King John or anyone else. He was going to the prom with Mary Lou Wyneski.

The dance was only a month away so Harry’s mother sprang into action immediately. She called Mary Lou’s mother to find out what color dress she would be wearing, he guessed so the corsage he was supposed to give to his date wouldn’t clash with her clothes. Harry didn’t think that was important but the mothers did.

His Mom went down to some second hand store and found a white sports coat, had it altered in the sleeves and the shoulders, got it dry cleaned, and sewed different colored buttons on since a few of the old ones were missing. Harry tried it on.

“Boy, all the girls will turn their heads when you walk into the gym wearing this.” Mom gushed.

“Give me a break, they’ll all have their own dates.” I said but secretly thought she might be right.

Harry looked pretty sharp. He had some dress pants and shirt that went with the coat. Even his Dad got into it by taking him down to get a new pair of black dress shoes and dark socks.

“Ya don’t wanna look like some goomba with white socks. His Dad said. “They’re okay for everyday but for the big night ya wanna look like a million bucks.”

“Ya got any underwear that isn’t ripped or holey?” he asked.

“Dad!” Harry said in exasperation and shook his head.

“Ya never know, ya gotta be completely dressed for action if you know what I mean.” His Dad said loud enough for everyone in the store to hear.

Thankfully, after a short prayer by Harry, they left and headed over to Little’s Lanes for a soda.

Harry’s Dad was quite a bowler and involved in a couple of leagues each week. He liked the game and hung out with a lot of guys, mostly from the Ford factory where he worked. He drank a lot of beer when he bowled.

“Keep ya loose and focused.” His dad explained when Harry asked him about all the beer bottles at his teams table.

When people walked by they immediately started shouting at his Dad with jokes and jabs. His Dad shouted right back. Harry asked for a grape Nehi and his Dad drank something called a bourbon ditch.

“I gotta set something up with Marvin so I’ll be right back.” His Dad said as he moved off his stool and walked to a back room.

Marvin was the manager and maybe a part owner, Harry was not really sure. The noise of the balls rolling down the lanes, the pin strikes, and some kind of crappy piped in music was constant.

“Harry, Dad said when he returned, I just got word that I qualified for the state tourney over in Brownsville, so I won’t be home for your prom.”

“What about the car, I was going to drive it to the dance.” Harry asked with a great concern.

“Hey, bud, old Dad isn’t going to ruin your night, I’ll just tell grandpa that we need to borrow his car for a night, he’ll let us.” His father said nonplussed that the plans of picking up his date in a big Ford Fairlane had just evaporated.

Harry groaned. Grandpa’s car was a 1953 Buick Special. Puke green. It looked and drove like an army tank. It the inside stunk from cigar smoke. His Grandpa Bill, was puffing on one all the time. Harry thought he might as well pick up his date on a bicycle built for two. His life was over.

Harry talked to Mary Lou a little ay school but now that the word was out of who was going with who to the Prom it seemed like everyone was watching everyone else to see if there was budding romance. He played it cool and calm. Harry let her know when he would pick her up and she just nodded. That was her answer? Maybe she wasn’t that excited to go with me, he thought.

Dad brought over grandpa’s car a couple days early and Harry spent a quite a few hours cleaning all the brown gunk off the inside windows, scrubbing the seats and wiping the dash with hot sudsy water. A whole can of Glade air freshener didn’t seem to do much and he had found a green bottle of air wick and stuck it under the front seat. It was the best he could do. The morning of the big dance Harry washed the car by hand, scrubbed several months of dust and mud off of the tons of chrome and wheels, and deemed it ready.

Harry slid into the driver’s seat of the finished product, then immediately got out and started rummaging through the house for another can of Glade.

“I got it all set up for you at the Lanes tonight.” His Dad yelled at him while packing for the state bowling tournament.

Harry wondered what that was about and went upstairs.

“Huh?” Harry said.

“Yah, I got a private back room at Little’s Lanes for you and the little lady to enjoy a fine meal, compliments of Marvin and the guys.” His Dad explained.

“No, I was going to take Mary Lou to Henry T’s for a dinner before the dance. Mom got reservations for me last week. I explained. All my friends are going to be there.”

Me and your mother decided it would be a lot nicer to have a private dinner for two, so I had her cancel the plans. You’ll like it. They make good burgers, you know that.” His Dad droned on.

Harry stomped down the stairs.

“Mom, I’m eating at a bowling alley.” Harry whined.

“Oh, you know dear, your father wanted to do something special for you and your date tonight. It’ll be really nice, he said so.” She said.

Harry went to his room, laid down on his bed, and screamed into his pillow.

Harry stayed upstairs the rest of the day, then started to get ready. He took a long hot bath, closely inspected his face and teeth, combed his hair to his satisfaction, put on just a little after shave and started to dress.

Harry realized he didn’t have a tie. How could he have forgotten such a thing!

“Mom! He yelled down the stairs, I don’t have a tie.”

“I’ll be right up.” She said from the kitchen.

Harry’s mother came up the stairs with a tie she had grabbed from their closet.

“Your Dad said that this was a new tie and he had never worn it.” She said as she measured, flipped, and knotted the neck piece.

Harry put on his jacket and looked in the mirror. The tie had red and white bowling pins and black bowling balls plastered all over it. Harry wanted to cry.

His mother inspected him up and down, tucked and prodded then stood away for one more look.

“You are so handsome.” She said and kissed his cheek.

With teary eyes she gave him the corsage that was to be given to Mary Lou.

They both went downstairs just as his Dad was about to leave for Brownsville. He looked Harry over,

“Ya gotta be careful with those flowers, ya don’t wanta stick her boob with a pin.” He said and laughed loudly at himself.

“Honey, he wouldn’t do that.” Mom said with a hidden smile.

They wished Harry good luck and he left, alone with his anticipation and expectations.

His date looked beautiful in her green dress that kind of puffed out all over.  It made a loud swishing sound when she moved. Harry handed the corsage over to her mother.

“Mrs. Wyneski, could you pin this on for me, I’d be afraid I might poke your daughter.” I said with an air of confidence.

“Why Harold, that is very thoughtful.” The woman said.

Harry heard a voice from the living room loud enough to drown out the sound of the television.

“What time you bringin her home, kid?” was the question.

Harry peeked around the corner to see Mr. Wyneski laid out on the sofa wearing only an undershirt and shorts. He was drinking a beer.

“It should be about midnight, sir. Harry said with a little fear in his voice. Maybe just a bit later.”

“Well, I’ll be up and waiting right here.” The guy said and pointed down to the sofa seat.

“Shut up Jack, Mrs. Wyneski said, let the kids have some fun.”

“He’s just trying to be gruff.”  She added.

Harry looked over at Mary Lou and she just rolled her eyes.

The two left the house and Harry raced around to open the door of the big Buick for his date. She slid in. He practically ran around to the other side and jumped in. They didn’t say anything for a few moments.

She looked around the interior of the car.

“It belongs to my Grandpa, I tried to get the cigar smell out but couldn’t completely. The windows were brown with all the smoke. I washed everything down. I hope it’s okay.” I blurted words out nervously.

Mary Lou looked across the expansive seat to Harry.

“It is certainly a big car isn’t it?” was all she said.

They drove off.

Harry explained what his family had planned for the evening, and where they were going to go to eat. He could tell his date wasn’t really enthused about it but that was what it was going to be. It’ll be alright he told himself. He hoped.

The drive to the bowling alley only took about twenty minutes. Neither person said much of anything.

There must be something he could talk about to start a conversation, Harry thought. Then it hit him.

“Did you know that the Magna Carta was annulled shortly after it was signed so it wasn’t that big a deal?” Harry announced.

“Oh.” Mary Lou answered.

The Magna Carta, what an idiot he was, Harry thought, couldn’t he think of something else. What a dope.

The short drive finally ended and the two kids walked into the building’s entrance. They took a couple of steps then heard it.

“Attention everyone, please stop bowling, I have an important announcement.” Came the voice.

It is really weird to listen to the noise of the place then suddenly silence.

“We have in our presence tonight, prom royalty, Miss Mary Lou Wyneski, and Mr. Harold Lindstrom.” Boomed Marvin’s voice.

“Please give them a Little’s Lane welcome.” He continued as he held a big smile aimed at the two stricken teenagers.

Applause and most likely some derisive cheers filled the air.

Damned Marvin, Harry thought. He tried to hide his face.

The two moved as quickly as possible to their dining room which was really the office with everything moved out of the way. A card table and two chairs sat in the middle. A tablecloth, two candles, and a vase with flowers adorned the scene. Dean Martin crooned from a record player behind the two of them.

Marci Morgan, a woman who was always hanging around the Little’s lounge waltzed in.

She took the drink order. Harry ordered a Grape Nehi, and Mary Lou asked for an RC Cola.

It arrived in plastic glasses full of ice. Real classy Dad, Harry thought.

“Huns, don’t worry about the meal, we’ve already planned your menu. Just sit back and have a good time.” Marci said with a slight slur.

Harry was stricken with foreboding. What would be next?

Surprisingly, a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, an antipasto salad, and bread sticks appeared.

Harry had seen this exact food before, at Luigi’s across the street. Okay, things were looking up.

They carefully ate, not to get spills on their clothes, but much to Harry’s chagrin, meat sauce dripped down his Dad’s new tie. His date offered to clean it but Harry really saw it as a sign.

“Nah, I’ll just take it off.” Harry said as he removed the tie and stuffed it in his pocket.

“You must really like bowling.” His date stated.

“Oh this, this belongs to my Dad, it wasn’t my choice. He bowls all the time.” Harry explained.

 They ate pistachio ice cream for dessert, and got up to leave.

As they walked out of the room to leave, Harry saw trouble.

Tommy Nichols and his cousin, Fred Peters, stepped in front of Harry. They were kind of the school juvenile delinquents with their ducktail hair and black leather jackets. They thought they were pretty darn cool.

“Well, aren’t we the pretty boy tonight.” Tommy sneered.

“Just get out of the way, Tommy.” Harry said.

“Introduce me to your little date, I think she’s kinda cute with those glasses and her Hee Haw teeth.” He continued and started to laugh.

Harry didn’t hesitate, but threw a fist right into Tommy’s nose and the jerk stumbled backward. Both guys, after their initial surprise, started toward Harry. Suddenly a big arm and body stepped in front of him.

“You pea brains get out of here, now. I’ve put up with enough of your guff. And I hope Harry busted your nose.” Marvin said evenly.

The two trouble makers left all the while yelling back at whomever would listen to them.

“Sorry Harry, is everything alright? And for you too, Miss.” Marvin asked.

Mary Lou nodded slowly, and the two left the place thanking Marvin for everything.

Not a word was said between the two but as Harry opened the door for Mary Lou, she suddenly reached over and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks.” She said as she squeezed his arm.

Harry, now in seven heaven, practically ran around the car and climbed in. His date, was demurely sitting right beside the drivers area, the Prom dress covering a large portion of the front seat. He got in.

“I hope it’s alright if I sit here, I feel so far away by the door.” Mary Lou commented.

“Sure, no problem.” Harry quickly said and climbed in.

They were practically touching shoulders. He didn’t want to move an inch.

The dance was great with all the colorful streamers, lights, and a live band. The two of them entered the decorated gymnasium and went their separate ways to meet their friends. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Even Meatball, his date, Cinnamon  Roll and her sister Tootsie, were chatting it up over by the punch bowl. The theme chosen by the junior class was April Love, a movie and song made famous by Pat Boone. It was wonderful.

How’s the night so far, Harry?” Patrick asked as he walked up to stand beside his friend.

“Oh, a few bumps here and there but otherwise its okay, you know.” Harry said with a nonchalance.

“We’re both a couple of pretty sharp looking dudes tonight, huh. Gotta go, Barbara is waiting for me.” Patrick said and was off.

Mary Lou began walking across the gym floor toward Harry. She was absolutely beautiful. Then he remembered something and immediately panicked.

Cripes, he thought to himself, I don’t know if I remember how Mom taught me to dance last week. Was it two steps forward and one back or just the opposite? He started to sweat just a bit.

They finally got out on the dance floor and Harry admitted to his date he couldn’t dance very well. She smiled and told him to follow her lead. It was lovely, they were a perfect fit. The two traded partners with their friends for a few dances, tried their hand at doing a little jitterbug, and sat occasionally to enjoy the terribly sour punch, cookies, and nuts set up for everyone.

The prom queen and king were announced and the regal parade of people marched around the gym receiving applause from the many chaperones. The lights danced on Mary Lou’s face and Harry was beside himself with happiness.

The two climbed into the Buick, and much to Harry’s relief, Mary Lou resumed her previous place on the seat.

Harry made it to Mary Lou’s home much too soon for his liking and parked the big car.

The two of them sat and talked nonstop about the meal, laughed about the P.A. announcement, briefly mentioned the altercation with Tommy, searched for a good music station on Grandpa’s radio, reviewed all the couples and their finery, and laughed some more about Marci being a bit soused but delivering a good waitress job. Then they decided April Love was the best song ever. It would be their special song.

Suddenly the porch light began to flash off and on.

“I guess it’s about midnight and I don’t want to make your father mad.” I said.

“I don’t want him to get mad either, otherwise he won’t let me go out with you again.” She whispered.

Harry’s jaw dropped, then a smile formed.

“No, I wouldn’t want that either.” He said quietly.

The young girl moved over and gave Harry and sweet kiss on his lips! They didn’t move from that position for what seemed to be hours. She moved away.

“Thanks Harry, I had a wonderful time.” she said as she scooted to the passenger door.

Harry didn’t move for a bit, then he jumped out of the Buick, ran to the other side of the car and let his date exit the vehicle. They held hands as they walked up to the house.

“You are a special guy.” She said as she opened the front door and disappeared into the house.

Harry drove home in a fog of love. What a Prom night!

Detective Lou Willis was not happy. He had been ordered by Captain O’Donnell to visit a very successful but retired local detective and ask for help. Unfortunately the Ovation Police Department was stumped and needed fresh eyes at the scene. If only it could be someone else’s eyes Detective Willis thought, he wouldn’t have to put up with an impossible egomaniac; a certifiable pain in the ass.

Reginald Asbury-Smyth had arrived at Ovation some twenty years before, a transplant from the Oxford area in England. His very rich aunt had left him a sizeable inheritance, including land and property in the area. He decided to make a career move and live in a more posh lap of luxury. Unfortunately for Detective Willis, Reggie was also hired on as lead detective in the Ovation law enforcement community.  Years of holding his tongue, tempering complaints, and hiding from the man as much as he could was indicative of what Willis’s career had been since then.  Reggie’s retirement was a heavily attended celebration. Everyone wanted to be sure he was out the door.

Detective Asbury-Smyth was quite self-absorbed and determined to be right at all costs. The problem was that the man had one of the most successful records of closing cases of anyone up to that time. He was a cross between Sherlock Holmes and a British television detective by the name of Morse. A short temper, constant demands for his squad to repeatedly review details of a case, and disrespectful to his fellow officers; that was, in a nutshell, Reggie.

The unmarked police car pulled up to the curb in a quiet older neighborhood in Ovation. Lou sat for a moment and let his eyes wander around the yard of the huge Victorian mansion, a big part of the inheritance bounty. Flowers of every imaginable type, bushes, trees, and hedges decorated the front. The grass was trimmed and the entire place was immaculate.

Well, the old boy is really getting into his hobby it looks like, Willis thought.

Reggie was a lifelong arborist, horticulturalist, botanist, and any other name that he could come up with when bragging about his retired life style.

The detective got out of the car and let his brown leather coat stay open, covering his ever-present shoulder holster and gun. His jeans and boots gave him the unmistakable look of a cop. He drew the line at growing the macho mustache however.

Willis didn’t bother going to the front door, but walked around the side and toward an immensely sized green house. He heard a noise toward the back of the structure and entered. The air was stifling and Willis removed his sports coat immediately. The place was filled with all kinds of plants and flowers floor to ceiling. A nuisance hobby, Willis thought. Give me bowling or golfing or boating anytime.

Willis could see Reggie leaning over something on a table. A contraption of magnifying glasses in front of him. He was talking quietly to someone although Willis couldn’t see who it might be.

Willis cleared his throat loudly to announce his presence.

Reggie jumped.

“Confound it man, can’t you see I’m busy? Why didn’t you knock?” Reggie turned and barked.

The wild haired Asbury-Smith was a spitting image of Albert Einstein. The big bushy poorly managed mustache, the mouthful of crooked teeth, a large protruding nose and big ears were part of his unusual looks. It is little wonder that he was a sixty something year old bachelor. Horrid looks and intolerable, Lou thought, kept the ladies at bay. The portly man was wearing a canvas looking pair of pants, a tweed sweater, and covering it all was a workman’s bib apron with the saying I love gardening, it makes it easier to hid the bodies. Probably a retirement gift.

“I did just announce myself and a green house door doesn’t exactly make a loud racket when I rap on it.” Willis explained, disgusted that he should have to defend his entrance.

“I am in the middle of a very delicate cross pollination of my beautiful Phalaenopsis and my Oncidium. Reggie railed. “A mistake must not be made and this procedure needs my full undivided attention.”

“Phaleo, what?” Willis said.

“Orchids, man, orchids. I wouldn’t expect you to know that, old boy. I imagine you have trouble identifying dandelions.” The obnoxious Reggie quipped. He looked down his nose at Willis then turned back toward the table.

“Now my little darlings, I expect beautiful offspring from your effort. Rest now and I shall return.” He said to his flowers.

“The most delicate of flowers, and the most unforgiving if not cared for properly. Much like women.” Reggie added.

What would this old fogey know about women, Detective Willis thought, I doubt he had ever had an adventure with the opposite sex. No woman could stand his condescending attitude.

“What is the meaning of this intrusion, Willis, I’m a busy man.” Reggie said.

“It has to do with a death at Oak Park, I thought the department had sent over a packet of information to you. The Captain asked me to find out what you thought about the situation.” Willis answered.

“Packet, what packet, oh yes, it’s somewhere in the house, but I haven’t had time to look at it. Can’t your bungling crew solve anything? Sometimes I doubt if the department could order a piss-up at a brewery. Just give me the quick facts, man.” Reggie demanded.

Willis explained that body of a middle aged man, George Lassiter, had been found face down in a small patio garden area. A three prong gardening hand rake was imbedded deeply into his chest, but it was determined the garden tool had nothing to do with the death as it appeared the man was suddenly in the throes of a quick death and fell on the rake. The coroner had ruled out heart attack and stroke but found some unusual chemistry in the blood. He couldn’t pinpoint the substance with his antique laboratory equipment.

“I shall be along shortly, I assume the crime scene or perhaps death scene has be compromised by heavy shoed police and emergency people. Am I correct?” Reggie said with a sniff.

“I can’t answer that, but will meet you there after I follow up on a few more leads. The address and other information is in the packet. You can figure out how to find your destination yourself from that.” Willis said with a feeling of one-upmanship.

“Oh very well, but must I remind the Captain, and the department, that I am retired. I do wish he would find some ample replacement for me so I may get on with my life.” Reggie stated and walked toward his big house.

The journey began when Reggie was good and ready to head out to Oak Park. A pleasant day for a drive, Reggie thought. Reggie’s Aston Martin DB6 purred as he sped down the road. The auto was a bit of a big spend, Reggie thought, but American cars didn’t have the class of this vehicle. They were all about sparkle and shine. This was a true driving machine.

I’m glad the department still thinks I have my skills and deductive reasoning intact, Reggie thought as he accelerated the Aston Martin into a tight corner of the road.  Still it’s fun to make Willis squirm, my favorite thing to do, he thought then actually smiled. He’ll make a fine detective. Someday.

He slowed the sports car when he viewed the Oak Park sign, down shifted, and drove through the gated entrance.

He noted an Oregon White Oak Reserve, wonderful. Washington’s only native oak was disappearing from the Puget Trough area. It was good to see someone cared.

An assortment of trees dotted the long divided drive entrance. Mountain ash, leaf maples, cedar, dogwood, hornbeam, and one lonely chinquapin.

Low lying Evergreen huckleberries, Isanti Dogwoods, rhododendrons, descampsia grass and azaleas had been tastily planted along the sidewalks along with northwest native plants like the Oregon grape, snow bush, licorice and maidenhair ferns, yarrow, and tufted hair grass. Very impressive.

Reggie thought he should tip his hat to the landscape planners. Everything was hardy, low maintenance, and showy. It could perhaps, he sniffed, certainly use a larger splash of color. I should invite the principals to my residence to see how a perfect area is established and kept. Yes, I shall do that, he decided.

Reggie parked his car next to a cordoned off area and walked to the house.  He noted each home sported Thuja that would act as a visual barrier between driveways. Excellent choice. He entered the home and was led to the backyard by a uniformed policewoman.

The old ex-detective wandered around the garden and patio back area. He stopped to look at and admire many of the plants. He studied the layout, the sun and shade pivot points and the water spritz system that had been crudely put together.

“Officer, bring the widow out so that I may talk with her.” Reggie said.

The policewoman was looking at her cell phone.

“Now, madam, if it is not too much trouble.” Reggie ordered in a slightly louder voice.

The young woman rolled her eyes and hustled into the house. Soon she reappeared with a salt and peppered haired middle aged woman. She was plain and, what the old boy decided, was perfectly unhandsome.  She wore baggy blue jeans and an oversized man’s short sleeved shirt.

“Ah, you must be in charge”, the woman said to Reggie, “whenever might you move out so I may tend to my garden?  You people have trampled and mashed a perfectly beautiful setting. It needs watering badly.”

“Mrs. Lassiter, I assume.” Reggie said ignoring the irritating question.

“I want you to go through, in detail, exactly what happened prior to your husband’s death.” Reggie demanded.

The woman sighed, shook her head and growled under her breath, “Once more for you idiots.”

She explained that she and her husband had almost finished their lunch, tomato soup, and a tossed salad when her husband got up from the table, announced he felt dizzy and a little sick. She suggested he step outside and get a little fresh air. When she had finished her meal and George hadn’t returned she walked off the porch and saw him lying on top of her prize Delphiniums. He wasn’t moving and she felt for a pulse. The woman explained she then ran back into the house and called 911. The arriving medics announced that her husband was indeed dead. The coroner arrived and did whatever coroners do then hauled him away.

Reggie studied the woman, who seemed to show no emotion indicating a terrible loss.

“You have a beautiful yard and garden.” Reggie said changing the subject.

The woman immediately perked up her demeanor.

“I was voted “Best Yard in Oak Park” two years in a row.” The woman said and pointed to a couple of plaques hanging on a nearby wall.

“It looks as if you and your husband have put a tremendous amount of work into the project.” Reggie hinted.

“George wouldn’t lift a finger to help in the yard. It was all my work.” She said proudly as she extended her arms out at the entire expanse.

“He would sit on the patio, drinking beer and telling anyone who would visit that over my dead body am I going to crawl around in the dirt.” She snorted.

The old detective seemed to ignore the negative conversation and spoke to the woman.

“I would like you to guide me around the garden, these flowers fascinate me.” Reggie suggested.

It didn’t take much prompting for Mrs. Lassiter to start the private tour. She pointed out each item, spouted many of the genus and species labels for each plants as well as their common name.

“Oh, and what is this beautiful plant?” Reggie asked when they stopped in one section off the main patio.

“That is called Queen Anne Lace, in fact the leaves are so succulent that they may be picked, washed, and put into any salad. They have a very sweet taste. In fact, George insisted I mix them into his salads.” She explained.

“Oh, I shall like to try one myself.” Reggie said as he stooped down to pluck a large leaf.”

“No, you don’t want to do that.” Mrs. Lassiter said as she tried to steer the old detective away.

“Now why is that, madam?” Reggie asked.

“Well, you don’t, I mean, you shouldn’t” she sputtered.

“You know the reason, Mrs. Lassiter, and so do I.” Reggie said evenly.

“This is not a Queen Anne Lace. It is an exact look alike of that plant called Poison Hemlock.” Reggie said pointedly.

The woman paled and sighed.

“You carefully mixed the Poison Hemlock leaves into your husbands salad knowing full well what results would ensue.” Reggie concluded.

“You executed your plan to murder your husband.” The old detective added.

“That bastard got his wish, it was finally over his dead body that he ended up in the dirt.” The woman said without remorse.

Then she started to laugh like a crazy person.

“Young lady, please handcuff this woman and take her away. She will be charged with murder.” Reggie ordered to the policewoman standing a short distance away with her jaw slacked.

Reggie Asbury-Smyth backed his car out of the driveway and sped down the street. He surmised that most of the houses along these streets would fit into his living room, drawing room, office and dining room. The old Victorian until I die, he reaffirmed to himself.

He turned left and slowly headed toward the entrance, again thinking an abundance of flowers would certainly soften the area.

“I shall get home to see how my darlings are doing in the green house.” He said quietly to himself.

The Aston-Martin with Reginald Asbury-Smyth at the wheel sped down the road. Another case closed.

One of the things I remember most vividly about my mother happened on every vacation trip our family took.  We typically went camping for two weeks near the end of summer, with perhaps one night a week spent at a motel, as we journeyed to various national parks.  Dad always drove and Mom sat in the front passenger seat with a pad of paper and a pencil.  As we made stops along the route to whatever national park we were going to visit, she would jot down a note or two on the paper.  She did this every day of our vacation.

When we started our vacation trips, we’d stop frequently to see the sights along the way to our ultimate destination.  On the way home, however, it was more of a direct drive from wherever we were to home, so there were long hours spent in the car. We three kids  played the usual car games as we drove – I spy with my little eye, my father owns a grocery store and he sells (blank), or counting how many different state license plates we saw on our travels across the miles.  After awhile, mom would get out her notepad and remind us of what we saw or did on our first day of vacation.  Then she’d offer the first line of a poem, and we three kids would chime in with rhyming lines relating to that day’s events. We continued this poem-writing process covering every day of our vacation.  It kept us all occupied in a joint effort, we learned a lot about rhyming and tempo, it was a good review of our whole trip, it made the time and miles fly by, and we had a lot of fun doing it.   The final version of each poem was descriptive, accurately depicted our adventures, and always included a bit of humor.  By the time we arrived home, the entire family, together, had written a two page long poem about every day of our entire vacation experience.   Sometime after we were home, Mom would type up the final version of the poem for us all to see.

I think those poems were the basis of my enjoyment of writing poetry to this day.  We studied poetry in school, of course, but I think this joint effort with the whole family writing the family vacation poem together made a lasting impression on me and fueled my love of poetry.

The sound of a train whistle evokes different emotions among the people experiencing it.  Some find it soothing and comforting while others find it annoying and bothersome.  My experience with the sound is with the former since moving into the Ovation community.  I feel a certain calmness when hearing the train whistle even in the wee small hours of the morning.

My connectivity to this sound is twofold.  The first and foremost reason is that the train whistle brings back wonderful memories of my husband who was an engineer on the ConRail railroad.  He preferred road trips where he could experience long stretches of the countryside as opposed to working in the yard building a long line of railcars awaiting future trips.

From listening about his travels on the railroad, I too wanted to experience what it was like to power a locomotive down miles of track knowing that you were an integral part of making the wheels of commerce turn in this country.  After many heartfelt conversations, I was able to convince him to take me on a road trip with him.

The experience was beyond my wildest expectations.  Not only because of a shared encounter of beauty with someone I love, but being privy to the sounds of the powerful engine, the sight of numerous controls and gadgets, and yes, the whistle that was blown before every railroad crossing; one long, two shorts, and one long. As the countryside passed by, I envisioned what it must have been like sitting in the engine with a crew shoveling coal into the old steam locomotives of yesteryear.

After returning from my adventure, I had a plan in mind of becoming the first female engineer in the country.  My girlfriend and I walked into the railroad office asking questions about how to apply for a position as an engineer on the railroad.  We completed our applications and left knowing our idea of making history was most likely short lived as it was intimated that this was a man’s job.

My other endearment with the train and its whistle is connected to a former colleague and close friend, Bob.  He went home to Wisconsin when he learned that his father was dying and only had a short time to live.  His father too was an engineer only on the Union Pacific railroad.  Shortly after his father’s passing, Bob heard a train whistle in the distance.  It was if the train and its whistle were signaling a farewell to one of its own family.

While the train may be a nuisance to some residents in the Ovation community, I’m thankful of its close proximity.  I take comfort and feel a certain peacefulness when hearing the train and its whistle while also knowing that I live on the crossroad bearing my late husband’s name.

In loving memory of Marvin Grant–

My dinner with the former boss of the San Francisco mob was unexpected. 

My life in a small Midwestern town was predestined to carry on the ancestral tradition of settling down, getting married and having children.  But kismet had another idea in mind by bringing my person and best friend into the picture.

The connection was undeniable and within a few months, I left my familiar haven in Michigan to venture out into the unknown.  The adventure was not only inspiring and memorable but terrifying since I was without my safety net. The

first stop was Arizona with the next stop being California 1 ½ years later where we decided to settle in the San Francisco Bay Area because of a career opportunity.

My first encounter with Jimmy “The Hat” Lanza was that of trepidation, wonder and interest as I learned of his criminal past.  You see, Jimmy was a Sicilian-American mobster and boss of the San Francisco crime family after serving as an underboss in the 1940s – 1950s.  Jimmy took control in the 1960s after his boss was indicted and sent back to Italy and served it that role for over two (2) decades.  Jimmy was engaged in gambling interests, contract hits, etc.  He also had ties to Las Vegas and other famous mob bosses across the country like Jimmy “The Weasel” Fratianno.

J. Edgar Hoover ordered an illegal wire tap on Lanza’s businesses for over six (6) years because the FBI was unsuccessful in recruiting informants to infiltrate his organization.

My colleagues would share their memories of Jimmy “The Hat” and his entourage pulling up in their expensive automobiles to the valet parking lot at Bay Meadows Racecourse, a thoroughbred racing facility in San Mateo, CA.  Their recollections painted Jimmy as a colorful person with stories to tell and a great sense of humor.  Jimmy et al., would saunter out of the race track with valet ticket in hand joking with the attendants while yielding a handful of cash as tip money.

My interactions with Jimmy started during our numerous chats in the hallway of the Executive offices at the race track.  Jimmy, wearing his signature fedora while being pushed in a wheelchair by his caregiver, would stop by my office usually with a gift in hand before attending the races.  In return, I would supply him with a stack of daily passes for him and his friends to use throughout the racing season.

He had an infectious smile and my fondest memory was the way he would yell

“MARIA” in that Italian accent as soon as he saw my face as he was being wheeled down the hallway.  It was difficult to process that the person I was becoming familiar with was involved in criminal mob activities for over 40 years.

One day shortly after his 100^th birthday, Jimmy asked if I’d like to join him for dinner at a local Italian restaurant.  I accepted his invitation and met him and his caregiver for dinner.  It was like something out of a movie with a number of guests stopping by the table to give their respects and kiss the ring.  I was in amazement as to how a woman from a small Midwestern town ended up in the company of a notorious mobster who was featured in Life magazine.

The conversation flowed easily and was interesting, but I found that I became fixated on part of his finger that was missing at the knuckle.  Being a movie fanatic with a wild imagination helped me conjure up possible scenarios of how he lost part of his finger.

At the end of the evening, I remembered going home feeling thankful for my bravery of experiencing a dinner with Jimmy “The Hat” Lanza and that I didn’t end up in the San Francisco Bay sleeping with the fishes.  

When I was growing up, we took a two-week vacation every summer.  We drove to a national park – a different one each year – and camped out along the way.  Camp areas were free then, but there were often no amenities – no laundry facilities, most with no bathrooms (you could find an outhouse every few campsites), and no covered area in which to gather on rainy days.  Usually one night each week we’d spend the night at a motel – just to shower, do laundry, and eat in a restaurant.  Those were the nights I liked the best.  I did not really enjoy camping – too many bugs – bees gathered especially when mom cooked bacon for breakfast.  And I hated the cold.  I tend to be a warm-blooded person and the cold really got to me.

After driving all day and seeing the sights along the way, late each afternoon we’d search for a campground, select our camp site, and begin our setup.   Camping areas being what they were in those years, my dad and brothers would pitch the tent and gather wood to build a fire; mom and I would get out the cooking supplies and fix dinner.  Dinner always tasted wonderful, especially since everything was cooked over the fire.  Most campgrounds had grills over a small pit, but sometimes we just had to cook over an open wood fire.

Laundry was a difficult challenge, especially at campgrounds with no running water.  In the morning, we’d use water from the river or nearby creek, heat it over the fire, wash and rinse essential items (mostly underwear), and then squeeze each item to remove as much moisture as we could.  The boys would ensure the fire was completely out and then we’d get in the car to continue our journey.  As soon as we got onto the open highway, mom would give each of us a piece of underwear.  We’d each roll down our window slightly, insert the item in the window with most of the item hanging on the outside, and quickly roll up the window.  As we drove along, the laundry would flutter in the breeze as we drove down the road.  Dad would tell us when we were coming to a town, and then we’d bring all the laundry inside the car.  (We certainly didn’t want the townspeople to think we were backwoods hicks.)  If the laundry was dry, great.  If not, out the window it would go again once we got through town. I found it rather amusing at the time, and I do to this day, but my older brother was always horrified to see his tighty whities  fluttering in the breeze as we drove across the miles.   It’s a sight not soon forgotten, so if you remember driving along the highways in the 1950’s and saw a car with laundry flapping from the windows, you probably saw my family on vacation! 

Nobody has been able to go anywhere for more than a year, and I’ve been stuck behind these closed doors for so long.  Nobody had come to see me for such a long time – months in fact.  I missed my friend who used to come pick me up, sometimes humming when we were together.  I felt lonely, unwanted, useless.  I used to have a purpose – I used to sit in the living room or the dining room with her, and she smiled when she looked at me.  She said I added color to her life;  she added love and purpose to mine just by choosing me and our being together.  I knew we were friends because she’d come to where I lived so often, pick me up, and perhaps we’d be joined by others that she liked.  Sometimes we’d end up in her living room, sometimes in the dining room, and occasionally even out on the patio together. 

Finally, I heard her humming, steps coming toward the door to where I live, and when the door was opened, there she was.  I was so happy to see her again.  She took me from my house and we went to her kitchen, and she gave me a refreshing drink of water like she always did.  Then she gave me some garden flowers to hold, and we went into her living room.  And she gazed at me for a long time and smiled.  Then her other friend came to the door, rang the doorbell, entered the house, and both of them admired me.  I held the flowers exactly as she wanted.  I was so happy to be her chosen vase.

Maybe this is the moment to reflect.

            Our family was inconvenienced, apprehensive, frequently frustrated but not infected. That didn’t make all our troubles trivial but they were not catastrophic. We were lucky. Very lucky!

            Ironically, our daughter and son-in-law have preferred working from home and one of our two sons and his wife have used the time at home with their infant daughter to great effect. The other son works in a well-managed and relatively safe environment. His wife, a teacher and nurse both, was at home to supervise their two active sons, for whom on-line school presented little difficulty and with the use of a sports park right across the street. As for the two of us, our greatest trouble was only being stuck at home with those wretched train horns.

            Looking back now and considering how we managed to endure the isolation and worry, we must acknowledge a debt of gratitude to the public library system, with an assist from those engineers and innovators who came up with Amazon’s Kindle reader. We found little of the broadcast programming or streamed content on the television to be satisfying anymore. Books became a lifeline.

            Never much of a serious reader growing up, I was momentarily thrown by a question from a panel member in an ornate university interview room.

    “What was the last book you read?”

    “Agatha Christie, I think?” Hoping that the panic didn’t sound in my voice. There was a pause, bordering upon eternity. Then he laughed.

    “That was honest.” I heard, while furiously trying to recall the titles of the Conrad and other books that we had been assigned in high school.

    Having survived the interrogation, I returned to the light reading that was a relaxation from text books. Later, it was a way to endure constant travel. A visit to an airport bookshop for a paperback in that pre-digital era was a necessary preparation to pass the time on a trip.

    Was retirement the point at which my tastes changed? No, I managed to read pretty much everything David Baldacci has ever written, along with the usual suspects in that best-seller genre, after moving in with Burlington Northern. But it did mark the return to library services and abandonment of the annual Seattle used book sale. However, the day finally came when anything that appealed on the library online listing was on loan elsewhere and a decision had to be made.

    I could not begin to chronicle my evolving taste in literature without resorting to Amazon’s database. Between us, my wife and I have read 650 digital books in the ten years since we acquired Kindles for Christmas. Some were published by Amazon but most found their way onto the list by the act of downloading to our Kindles from the library website.

     I have always been inspired by libraries, from the joy as a pre-teen of discovering a new adventure story in a favorite series, or when taking our own children to the library on a Saturday morning and carrying home an armful of books for the week ahead. They enjoyed being read to long after they were able to read well on their own, I didn’t mind and truly enjoyed The Phantom Tollbooth. I could not convince the oldest to read a “long” book until I struck a deal. I would read the first Hardy Boys book as long as she read the next one. That was all it took. So, I had a respite until the youngest took a shine to a well-written series based upon Welsh mythology and its multitude of tongue-twisting character names. I mangled most of them, but he wasn’t the wiser. The children regularly beat the library reading challenges, a strength that served them well through school and college and on to successful careers.

    I recently made a great discovery; the ability to recommend to the library system a newly reviewed but, as yet, unreleased book for a future purchase. Doing so puts you at the head of the list to borrow the book when it becomes available. I have scored several times on the actual day of release. A very satisfying feeling.

     In looking over our Amazon history listing for just the last eighteen months, I have read several books about political figures in the administration and Congress, in a quest to understand what I found so distressing. And, additional thrillers, police procedurals and courtroom dramas.

     More to the point are the illuminating biographies; Churchill, Bourdain, Trevor Noah, Elton John and the four founding gals of NPR were a few. Wonderful novels that include Beartown, The Goldfinch, Nothing to See Here and the not so wonderful Crazy Rich Asians. Plus, Jon Meacham’s The Soul of America, the memoir Educated and sobering books on the environment and evolution.

    American Dirt is a harrowing tale of the courage and perseverence of migrants from Central America and Nomadland is a depressing chronicle of impoverished seniors and their quest to survive by travelling to manual part-time jobs and living in their vehicles.

    In comparison to which, I can put up with the train horns.

I laid in bed and watched through my window as the sky became lighter and lighter. I knew it was early because the birds hadn’t even started singing. I was on top of the covers in my bed only in my pajamas and a warm housecoat. I planned this so I wouldn’t have to spend any time making my bed. I was toasty since this old house, I mean really old house, got warm during the summer. My room especially. I was up on the third floor. Dad said my bedroom used to be a closet or something like that because it was so small. He should know, he was raised in this very house. I even had to walk through the bathroom to get to the room. That was such a pain, especially if one of my older sisters was soaking the tub, and they stayed in it for hours. I had to turn my back as I opened the door, snake my way between the sink and the toilet, then finally get to my sanctuary. My friends thought it would be kind of cool to walk in on one of them, but everyone who visited was briefed as to the proper procedure. If they didn’t follow it, the screams from the water would bring Mom up the stairs and then there would be trouble.

Anyway, I just couldn’t sleep any longer. Today was the day. The family was going to the Montana State Fair in Great Falls. We hadn’t been able to attend for the last three years, either because Dad couldn’t get off work, or because he was out of work and we didn’t have enough money.

I was ready to help on that end. Mowing grass for my grandpa, washing the family station wagon, scavenging for returnable bottles, and weeding old Mrs. Mock’s garden provided a pretty hefty sum of eleven dollars and twenty nine cents to spend at the fair. I was going to buy some cotton candy, and a nutty buddy ice cream bar, then ride on every ride at the carnival. I was set. I wouldn’t have to ask Dad for one cent. The money was laid out by the little table next to my bed. There was one five dollar bill, six one dollar bills, a quarter, and four pennies. I had been searching for another penny somewhere so I could trade the pennies in for a nickel. Bob Seek, the grocer, said he would trade out the money if I found another penny.

I’m nine years old and can barely remember the last time we went to the fair. I recall riding a little kids train, but I was almost six years old and it was for babies. It wasn’t neat at all.

I didn’t hear any noise in the house, so I rolled out of bed, used the toilet, washed up, and put a dab of butch wax on my hair to stiffen my cool crew cut. I even brushed my teeth so I wouldn’t have to do that after breakfast. I got into the clothes I had laid out the night before. Clean underwear and socks, then I pulled up a pair of jeans with matching knee patches. Mom was really good at putting those things on. I got a brown and black striped short sleeved shirt, and slipped my favorite belt into the pant loops. The belt buckle had a picture of a space ship blasting through the universe. When you wiggled the buckle the space ship moved. Really cool! Finally, I slipped on my boots. They were pretty scuffed but I used a brown crayon to cover the light patches. The boots had a dark black stripe running up the side. I looked down at them. I was ready to go.

I wandered down stairs and saw that Mom was just starting a pot of coffee. She had already lit up a Camel. She always smoked and drank coffee every single morning.

“Mom, I announced, I’m ready.”

She turned around and looked at me and smiled.

“Well aren’t you the early bird.” She said.

“Can you get everyone else up so we can get going.” I asked.

“Honey, its six in the morning. The fair doesn’t even open its doors until ten o’clock.” She explained.

I started to panic just a bit. It took Helen and Alice forever to get ready, I knew. My older sisters had one speed, slow, and even worse when they were fixing themselves up.

“And your father has to change out that bad tire on the car before we can go anywhere.” She continued.

My entire plan was going to be ruined. I just knew it.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a bowl of Wheaties. It’s the Breakfast of Champions, you know.” She teased.

I got into the conversation with her as I headed to get milk out of the Frigidaire.

“I think I’ll just have what Tony the Tiger has. Its greeaaat.” I said without a lot of enthusiasm.

Still nobody up so I went outside and jumped on my bike. I rode around the neighborhood and it seemed like everyone was sleeping in. I waved at Mr. Mock as he headed down to the railroad depot. He was the station master and even let me play on the telegraph key once. He didn’t wave back. He was grouchy a lot of the times. I think it was because he had something called the gout. At least that was what Mrs. Mock said. I don’t know what that was but it must really be a bad thing to have.

I got back just in time to watch Dad change the tire.

“They just don’t make these retreads like they used to.” He muttered.

“This is the third one this year that blew its tread. One of these days I’m going to buy a brand new set. If only they weren’t so danged expensive.” He went on explaining to me.

I rolled the bad tire out to the garden plot. Mom would fill it with good dirt and plant garden stuff or flowers in them. We had seven tires all lined up.

I came running back to ask Dad, “Are we ready to go then?”

“Are your sisters ready?” he inquired.

I frowned.

“Why don’t you go and find out.” He suggested.

I took the porch stairs two at a time, flew through the screened summer room and went upstairs. I looked into the girls’ room. They weren’t even up yet. They were still a couple of lumps under the covers.

I turned on the light and opened the window shades then started singing “You are my Sunshine” as loud as I could. I was sure that might get them going.

One of them threw a pillow at me.

“Mom, Robert won’t leave us alone. Helen screamed. Get him out of here!”

I figured if Mom came up she would tell them to get moving anyway.

She didn’t.

“Come on, you guys, we’re going to the fair today, you didn’t forget did you.” I asked.

“How could we forget, that’s all you’ve talked about for the last two weeks.” Alice whined.

“Mom has pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream on the table. You’d better get going.” I announced.

They both jumped up and squealed as they put on their robes. Their favorite breakfast. They raced downstairs.

Two minutes later I was hiding in a closet while they searched for me. So I told a white lie. What was the big deal?

I emptied the garbage cans, swept the garage floor, fed the cats, and watered some flowers.  Mom kept suggesting things I needed to do before we could leave. I was really tired of waiting.

“If you wash the windshield on the car we’ll take off.” Dad promised.

I found a bucket and put some dish soap in it, added some water from the backyard hose and started in on the car. We owned a Ford station wagon with real wood on the side. I don’t know what it was for but it looked real neat. I got up on the hood, did a spiffy job, climbed down to announce to anyone who could hear me that the job was done.

“Mom’s still making lunch but go ahead and get in the car.” Dad said.

I raced out, climbed into the way back seat and waited. We called it the way back seat because it was all the way to the back of the car. I had that seat all to myself because my sisters always sat in the middle one. I could even lay down on the thing. I brought a couple of Richie Rich comics to pass the time.

Finally everyone was loaded up, the picnic basket sat beside me, and we were off.

We started through town and Dad stopped on Main Street to talk to some guy. They talked and laughed forever. Then the guy started talking about church and the new pastor and everything. I knew for sure we would miss the fair completely.

Again, finally, we drove out of town headed south to Great Falls.

Dad drove fifty miles an hour all the way. Everyone was passing us!

“Racing down the highway is tough on an engine. This car has to last a long time. I go under the speed limit so I don’t have to worry about highway patrol. Let those idiots past, they’ll only get there five minutes before me.” That was the stuff Dad always said when we were traveling.

We drove through the west side of Great Falls as I caught a glimpse of the fair grounds. The huge roller coaster stood high into the air. No way was I going to climb into one of those cars racing up and down on that thing.

We slowly inched along the line of cars until we finally reached the ticket booth.

The big board showed the prices of admission.

“Two adults, two over eight and one under eight.” Dad told the guy in the ticket booth.

“Dad, I’m nine now remember?” I said as I clamored to the front so I could stick my head over the seat.”

The guy in the booth laughed and handed Dad the tickets. I don’t know why he was laughing.

We found a great parking spot under some trees.

“Perfect, Mom said, we have shade and we can sit here for a picnic.”

“Aren’t we going to check things out first?” I asked, hoping Mom would see the wisdom in my suggestion.

“Eat first, Dad directed, then you won’t be hungry and fill up with all that carnival crap.”

So we sat on a big blanket, ate tuna fish and pickle sandwiches, fruit cocktail Jell-O, and drank cherry Kool-Aid.  No one was in a big hurry. Except me. Alice and Helen were busy checking out their hair in the car’s mirrors, and jabbering about maybe meeting some handsome boys.

Again, it took forever for Mom to repack everything in the very rear of the car, but we finally seemed ready to have some fun.

“Where do you want to go first, Robert, the cattle barn or the poultry pavilion?” Mom asked.

I looked at her and couldn’t believe what she had said.  The carnival and all the music, and kids, and rides were there waiting for me. The cattle barn!

So we looked at every rabbit, pig, pigeon, cat, dog, cow, chicken, horse, flower arrangement, vegetable display, and jams and jellies in the world. We saw more quilts, arts and crafts, and photograph displays than a person should be allowed to see. Then I heard the magic words.

“Girls, why don’t you and your brother head on over the midway and see what’s going on. Your father and I are going to be at the cowboy stage to hear some music. Make sure to stick together.” Mom ordered.

Those weren’t magic words, those were directions to a fate worse than death. I looked over at my sisters and they were thinking the same thing.

“Okay Mom, what time should we meet at the car?” Alice, the oldest asked.

“Let’s make it eight o’clock. That will give you a chance to see everything.”

I checked my Roy Rogers watch and saw it was already noon. Oh Man!

With that we were off. The music, and noise, and people milling around was wonderful. This was real excitement, real action. I was trying to decide what to do first.

“Oh look, there’s Judy and Bonnie.” One of my sisters squealed.

The girls milled around each other whispering to their friends, pointing out boys, and giggling.

“I’m going to try my luck at the game over here, I’ll be right back.” I said as I pointed to a nearby booth. I couldn’t hang around with that bunch another second.

The idea was to toss money onto a bunch of dishes lined up in the middle of the area.  If your coin landed and stayed you would get that dish as a prize.  I stepped up and started to dig into my pocket. A guy with stringy hair, a tee shirt and dirty jeans came over. He smiled at me. I think he only have about six teeth in his mouth. I handed him a dollar and he gave ten dimes.

“Try your luck, win a prize.” He shouted to no one and everyone.

I just about won something and was getting real close to making the dime stay on the dish. I cashed in one more dollar. The first toss was a winner. I was now the proud owner of a dark blue colored glass plate.

“Winner, winner. A winner every time”, the guy hollered as he handed me my prize.

“Hey you guys, look what I won.” I said as I proudly displayed the plate as I walked back to the group.

Judy and Alice laughed when they saw what I was carrying.

“Are you going to carry that around the rest of the day, even on the rides?” one of them asked.

I thought about it and knew it was a stupid thing to have tried to win. Ten minutes later I accidently slipped it into a big black garbage can. I had spent one dollar and one dime to win that dumb thing. I shook my head just thinking about the lost moolah.

I hung with the girls for another half hour but got real tired of them not doing anything except showing off to any boys nearby. I slipped away.

“See the fat lady, six hundred pounds, the bearded lady, the man who can swallow a two foot sword, marvel at the half man, half ape. Only twenty five cents to witness some of the world’s greatest curiosities. Step right up.” The little man with the big megaphone implored.

I rushed up and put a quarter on the booth top, and got my ticket.

“If you get too scared don’t expect a refund.” The man yelled out loudly as I started to pass.

The crowd chuckled and laughed. I glared at the little man. Frightened, hah!

I was ready to enter the tent when I heard my name being called. It was a friend of mine.  Billy Ford, who claimed to be a relative to the New York Yankee pitcher, Whitey Ford.  I didn’t believe he was related, he just said that to be a bigshot, I was sure.

“Are you going in there?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Sure, I said, come in with me.”

“I heard it was pretty scary, especially the guy who looks like a gorilla.” He said.

“Chicken, bock, bock, chicken.” I said to him.

“Alright, but you stay in front of me.” He demanded.

We went in together and moved to the edge of the stage. I couldn’t believe how big the fat lady was, and the sword swallower put two blades down his throat at the same time.

We watched as curtains swirled, and lights flashed. All of a sudden someone or something let out a loud bloodcurdling yell and jumped right in front of Billy and me. All I saw was wild eyes and hair all over its body. We yelped and headed for the exit before it could grab us.

“Jeepers, we almost became gorilla food.” Billy yelled as we tried to get our breath.

“I’m not going back there.” I announced.

We headed toward the rides and away from that tent.

I stood in front of a ride called the Hammer. It had the shape of a double hammer head at the end of a long steel platform. The rider is strapped in at one end of the hammer head and it starts rotating in a circle. I watched the people as they screamed and hollered to stop the ride.

I wasn’t afraid of the Hammer and would have climbed aboard but a person had to be able to be a certain height to enter. I stood up to the measuring board but was just a little short. Maybe I crouched down a little but not much. I’d ride the Hammer for sure next year.

I never did see my sisters again but saw a couple of other friends. We rode a few rides, played some games, and ate for cool fair food. The best was cotton candy. I went back for seconds.

My money was getting low and the day was ending. I was looking for a souvenir. I didn’t want any balloons or pinwheels or any of that junk. I wanted something cool.

Suddenly, it was right in front of me.  A woman with tattoos of roses all over her arms was selling hats. They weren’t like baseball hats, but kinds of a sporty look to them. My uncle Hank wore something like it when he has a date with some woman. Mom never let him bring his dates over to the house for some reason.

“Looking to buy a hat?” the lady asked me.

“Yes, but how much?” I asked.

“The hats are two dollars and I will embroider your name on the front for free. You also get to pick a free adornment for the hat.” She explained.

I didn’t know what an adornment was but some kid walked away with a feather sticking out of his newly purchased hat.  I figured that was what an adornment was.

“Okay, I think I want a red one.” I decided as I pointed to the pile of hats.

She grabbed a few and set them on my head until she decided one was a good fit.

“Okay, what’s your name? I’ll sew that one the hat.” She said.

“Rober..uh, Bobby. Just Bobby.” I answered.

My family all called me Robert but I thought Bobby, the name Mary Ellen Fisher used when she flirted with me, was cooler.

“And I’ll take that tall white feather as an adornment.” I said using the new learned word.

She set the hat in a machine and it quickly sewed my name. She put the feather through a couple of slits in the side, then set in on my head.

“Looks pretty sharp, young man.” The tattooed lady said.

I gave her two one dollar bills. I walked away and just knew that everyone was checking out my head gear. I liked it.

I got back to the car just before Alice and Helen so I imagined Mom and Dad didn’t figure out that I didn’t stayed with my older chaperones the whole day. And we kept quiet.

I got compliments all around concerning my hat, and was careful not to bend the feather as I got into the car. I would keep this hat forever, and maybe even wear it to Easter Sunday Services, or Christmas parties. After all it was red and white.

We slowly left the fairgrounds along with a long procession of cars doing the same. I looked in the rear window and watched the bright and blinking night lights of the exciting rides fade into the distance.

I sat quietly and thought back about the entire day. What a fun time, even if the gorilla guy attacked Billy and me.  It all faded to dark as the old station wagons tires drummed on the highway.