What's Up Doc

Brian was in the back counting money from the local poker game that no one was supposed to know about.  Bev was in the kitchen experimenting with a biscuit recipe, watched over very carefully by Ray the Raven.  Abdul had gone to Saturday night mass which I thought strange because he always wanted the Friday Muslim service off, along with any Christian or Jewish holidays that might come along.  He claims he just wants to pay homage to all, my guess is that he is hedging his bets.  Traci was in the corner whispering in the ear of some young hard body, and I was once again regaling my customers with the wit and wisdom of which I was and still am so blessed.

“So you see me fine lads, America has the best medical system and doctors in the world ”  And with the word ‘world’ I slammed my glass tankard of ale down on the bar.  Apparently I slammed it a little too hard because it shattered on the hard oak bar top.  My hand slipped from the handle crashing the outside of my palm against the glass shards.  A fountain of blood started spewing forth like a Texas oil well if in fact they still let oil wells spew. 

Every one in the bar was stunned at first and I was in shock I guess because I felt no pain and was mesmerized by the blood gushing out from the side of my hand.  MacDougal happened to be sitting beside me and immediately grabbed my wrist to stop the flow of blood.  McDaniel, sitting on the other side, grabbed the bar rag and pressed it against my opened wound.  Between the hand tourniquet and direct pressure the flow of blood slowed and then stopped altogether.

We all sat there for what must have been a short time even though in retrospect it seemed like a long time, when someone said we ought to get the doctor.  Some one else said that somebody would have to go get him because his car had broken down and he hadn’t the money to pay for it until his medical subsidy came in next week.  I told them it was not necessary because if we applied enough pressure long enough coagulation would set in and all would be fine.  I remembered that from my Army or Boy Scout days.  I couldn’t recall which exactly, not that there was that much difference in the training or application of the career.  I guess the Boy Scouts did have adult leadership though.

To pass the time I called for Brian to set up a round for the house.  MacDougal and McDaniel started to sweat a little, and I think I even saw a tear come to the eye of McDaniel.  “What’s wrong with you two? I asked, “I am the one in harms way here.” 

“Yes, we know that,” said MacDougal, “It is only that it takes both our hands to keep the blood from spewing out so you won’t bleed to death and we are just contemplating how we are going to drink our free pints.  Opportunities like this don’t come around a lot you know.”

It would have been an easy fix for my sniveling two sods if we had straws available but we did not serve enough soft drinks to justify the expense.  Traci suggested that she could lift the glass up to their lips but McDaniel had a harelip and the ingredients would fall on his chin thus wasting the brew and create bitterness and jealously towards MacDougal and everyone else in the pub I suspected because no one else had such a deformity that would cause the spillage.

I must admit that I became very proud of MacDougal and McDaniel when they decided that they could do without for awhile.  They thought that coagulation would soon occur and they were determined to put aside their concerns for the good of the community and my hand.  They both said they were of sturdy stock.  They hunkered down for the duration but their commitment seemed to grow weaker by the minute, they sort of started crumbling before my eyes.  You would think they were the ones to losing blood.  Depression can do strange things to a person I guess.

After a few minutes we all decided that perhaps the blood had coagulated enough and my two medics slowly released the pressure from my wrist and wound, but as soon as they did the fountain of blood returned and spurt out like the water from the blowhole of Moby Dick.  My two medics resumed their positions to stop the flow but more depressed than they had been for they realized it would be longer till they got some brew.

“Ok, enough is enough,” came a voice from the kitchen door.  Bev had been watching all this nonsense for a while and decided that I was not going to bleed to death on her watch. 

She instructed one of the boys to fetch Doc Leep and tossed him the keys to the moped.  She too new that the Doc’s car was out of commission and we would all just have to endure the extra time it took to get him and drive him back.  Another lad she told to fetch the water hose out back.  When the water hose arrived she told Brian to depressurize a keg of beer and stick one end of the hose in it.  She then took the other end of the hose slit it down the middle to a point where eventually she had two half hose bits.  She then took some duct tape and card board and made two straw type looking affairs.  “There now Mac and Mic, suck on these while we wait for the Doc.”   The procedure immediately revived my two saviors and fortified their resolve

Doc Leep showed up later than he would have liked of course and immediately went to work.  I knew he thought it was some what serious because he did not order his usual merlot prior to his stitching my hand.  I must say for an Irishman without the proper American medical training, he did a pretty good job. 

I asked him if being without his car caused him problems.  He said just a little, but not enough to forgo the extra expense.  “I really can’t afford two BMWs, I am not an American doctor you know.”

Our Emerald Isle  -  Snakes Eyes

Some people will do or say anything for a free drink.

Traci was washing the windows and drawing her own crowd, Brian was pouring drinks, taking inventory, and flirting with one of the town lassies, Abdul was out back making some foundation repairs, and Bev was cooking up some home made gravy in the kitchen.  I was doing what I do best.

“So you see my fine lads, Alaska was visited by St Patrick and just like Ireland drove the snakes out.  How else can you explain that neither have none.”  With that I slammed back the rest of my Black and Tan feeling quite the expert and smug about matters that my newly found neighbors and Brian's Black and Tan pup goers knew nothing about.  I was fulfilling my duties as host and story teller for our establishment while providing a little educational enrichment. 

Through the bottom of my glass I could see Mack O’Willy finish off his pint with a slight smirk about his face.  He had just returned from Dublin where he worked in a traveling carnival.  The carnival had just played our town and O’Willy decided he was tired of all that stuff and decided he would stay home for awhile.  He had just quit and was grimy with dirt scattered from head to toe.  Typical I thought of Carnies, having had Carnies as relatives of my own.

I was unable to attend the two day carnival affair and didn’t want to anyway because in my youth I would work for my cousin providing chickens for the geek he had employed which happened to be another cousin.  I had and spent more time than one should in such places and all it did for me was to make me detest chicken prepared in any fashion.  I worked the bar while Traci, Brian, and Bev sold food at one of the concessions and Abdul puttered around outside between preparing the evening meal and washing dishes.  “You don’t believe me O’Willy,?” I asked

“Oh, I believe it alright, or I should say I believe you believe it, but you are way off about your facts,”  O’Willy informed.  “Most people believe the way you do but the facts, or I should say some of the facts like St Patrick and the snakes be not true at all, for the most part.  I cannot say about Alaska having no snakes or even about our blessed saint actually making it that far west or possibly north and then dipping south or going east if had a mind to.  All I know for sure is that there is at least one snake living in our beloved homeland and it being underneath the floor in the pipe crawl where we sit.”

A hush fell over my patrons and we all seemed to dip our heads and stair at the wooden floor.  Then simultaneously we fixed our eyes on O’Willy.

I soon gathered my thoughts and told O’Willy that if he was so sure to put his money where his big mouth was and bet me a round on the house that he was right and I was wrong.  He agreed but said he needed to tell us all a story first.  The Irish are always telling a story or two to get across a point that no one else seems to understand.

“You see Pub Keeper and honored patrons,” O’Willy began, “We don’t have a lot of snakes in Ireland but the ones we do have live a long, long time.  When I was just a lad my Grandfather, God rest him, woke me one night and asked me to help get rid of a snake he had seen crawling into a whole under this very pub.  Well, Baba, as I called him, had seen a lot of spiders and snakes in his day due to his love of the grain so it weren’t unreasonable that he woke me at such an early hour, for he had given up long ago trying to get anyone else’s attention.  How can you turn your sainted grandpa down.  Besides I always liked these midnight adventures of ours.  You see this was not the first time I was awoken to go on a hunt of some sort of creepy crawly or just to assure none were keeping his skin company.  We never caught a snake however, in fact I never really saw one or any other wiggly a reptile or crawling arachnid on or off his body.  But I came to realize then as now, it ain’t the trophy but the race.

“We made our way to the back of the pub here where Baba had seen the snake vanish into a whole.  Since I was the smaller of the two, naturally, he had me bend down to see if I could see anything in the whole.  Well it being night and all, all I could see was a bunch of blackness looking back at me, if in fact blackness can look at all.  I mentioned such to Baba and he immediately recognized the problem so he took a cigar out of his breast pocket, lit it and puffed to get a red glow.  While he was doing that I busied myself digging out around the whole to get a better view and enable me to extend me head and hand under the pub.

“When he figured he had illuminated the end of the cigar enough he handed it to me and I stuck it inside the whole along with part of my head and scanned the area.  At first I could not see a thing but then in a distance I saw two little red specks moving from sided to side in tandem. It startled me and I, yes I must admit, was scared more than just a little.

“ I jerked my head and arm back out of the whole and told Baba what I had seen.

 “Quick lad, let’s cover up the whole and trap the monster under the pub.  That way he can’t get out and will starve to death.”  

“But Baba, won’t he just find another way out or make a new whole?”

‘Heaven’s no, the owners have always believed in keeping their family foundation tight and solid and I am sure that applies to their home and pub also.  Besides a snake has no arms and he can’t dig his way out.  The animal will starve to death in no time at all.’  But I was not so sure, there were enough mice and soggy ground to keep anything alive and well fed and watered for many years, and if I were a betting man which it appears I am, I am sure the snake is there to this very day.  Some reptiles live to be over a hundred years old you know.”  O’Willy ordered another pint drained half of it and slammed the glass back on the bar.

As O’Willy finished his story I realized I had him in a trap.  Everyone in the pub was going to have a free drink and I was going to make a few more Irish dollars.  How could he think that he would be able to outwit me in the art of story telling. 

“Alright Mr. O’Willy even if I were to believe your story you still have no proof that snakes in general and that particular snake has lived all these many years.  How would you know?  You never looked back into the whole did you, how could you, you covered it up, and no foundation is that strong that there wont be a crack or two during the years for a snake to slither threw.  Just ask Abdul he is out back as we speak repairing a whole that seemed to materialize out of no where last night.  Ah, a nice story but a story no less, no facts to back it up.”  I waited for the laughter to die down and ordered a round on the house and waited for O’Willy to pay up.

“Pub keeper,” O’Willy responded, “There is away to prove my facts.  Facts are a stubborn thing you know.  Let us pull up a couple of these planks that make up your floor and you crawl down there with a flashlight and see for yourself.  There should be no fear on your part for two reasons: There are no snakes in Ireland you say and secondly if there was one it has already left or even dead and it no way could hurt you, or scare you, if you are prone to be scared that is of a small little slithering reptile.”

Ha, I thought to myself.  Me afraid of a snake, never, however crawling around a space small as  crawl space below was a different matter all together.  “I tell you what O’Willy, I am not going to crawl under the pub but I will stick my head between the two planks we remove and do a visual search with my flashlight.”  That seemed to satisfy O’Willy.

We cleared away some table and chairs from the center of the floor and a couple of the regulars began the process of lifting the wooden floor planks in such a manner so I could get my head and shoulders under the floor.  As two trusted patrons held my legs I dipped my body into the hole up to my hip region, began my visual search and as I had suspected there was no sign of a snake.  I yelled back up to the crowd that was growing and was about to tell them to pull me out when I heard a noise I could not make out.  It was sort of like a springing or hissing sound.  I turned the flashlight in direction of the noise and there looking at me were two beady eyes, red, moving back and forth in tandem.  I yelled for the men to hurry and get me out of there, they seemed like they were taking their time, but eventually they got me out of that hell whole. 

I was panting and sweating.  One of the boys gave me a Black and Tan that Brian had waiting for me and I told the men,  “Quick, put the floor back we’ll keep the little devil there for a few more years.  Some one tell Abdul to fill up the wholes around the foundation, NOW!  Alright O’Willy you won.  Brian, put the drinks on my tab instead of O’Willy’s, in fact make it another round.” A cheer came from the crowd.  I am a poor winner but a gracious loser.

About that time Bev came out of the kitchen followed by Abdul.  “What in the name of the Sicilian Gods is going on out here?”   I briefly told her, sort of sheepishly though.  She just stood their for awhile then bowed and shook her head.  “Look out the window pub keeper.”

 I could see the carnival going past and the last wagon to go by had painted on its side a picture of snake with two reddish eyes configured in such a way that its eyes seemed to  move from side to side in tandem.  “Reptilian bobble heads for sale” was painted in bright red letters under the picture just above the wheel wells.  I turned to confront O'Willy, but he was no where to be found.

Our Emerald Isle -Killer Sheep

Traci said she would do anything she could to insure that Brian's Black and Tan would be a success.  She had noticed over the last several weeks that there was a lull in business before noon each Saturday and thought that if some method could be devised to get patrons in earlier that sales would i O ncrease in the early morning hours and by virtue of already being there those present would stay for lunch.  Her plan worked.

Every Saturday morning beginning precisely at 9:00 she would take a bucket of soapy water and sponge and begin washing the outside of the windows.  Now washing windows in and of themselves would not normally draw a crowd but she had devised a method of washing three pains at the same time.  Being a family type of narrative I will let your imagination conjure up how this task was performed.

There were no seats available near the windows on this one particular Saturday morning so when O’Gradey came in like he always did around 10:30 he sat at the bar and listened to me finish up a story about the time I tracked a polar bear while living in Alaska.  All were very much impressed. 

“So you see my friends there is not a meaner or more dangerous animal in all the world.” I concluded.

O’Gradey while hunched over his first pint of the day said that sure enough a polar bear was an animal that deserved respect but he took issue as to it being the most dangerous animal in the world.  “It’s undoubtedly the meanest animal in the arctic, but not the world, that would be our Killer Sheep not found far from here in the Thickets and Hills of O’Clare.”  The crowd nodded their heads in agreement.

I could not let the comment go unchallenged.  “Why I have never heard of a killer sheep.”

“Well it is nothing we talk about much, it’s bad for tourism.  In fact I am one of the few men alive that has ever hunted the beast and lived to tell the tale.”

This I had to hear.  “And what may tell would that tale be?”

“It was a blistery cold day,” he began as the crowd gathered around, except for the young men sitting by the window pretending not to watch Traci wash the widows, “and the towns people of De’Vere realized that something had to be done.  One of the killer sheep had wondered down from the mountains and had been killing pigs, chickens, and peaceful sheep.  The Town Council knew that I was a veteran of the troubled times and had spent time away having found it only prudent that I leave our beloved country for awhile until things cooled down and reside in Africa..  While in Africa I took up big game hunting.  The Village people knew I was the only one who could track and destroy the Killer Sheep or at least chase it back to the Thickets and Hills of O’Clare.  They were right of course and I deemed it my duty to protect our town.  Pigs, chickens, peaceful sheep today and our little children tomorrow, yes I would take the challenge.

“I went to the place where the last kill was reported.  Near the carcass of a bonnie looking sheep I saw the tracks leading back toward the Thickets and Hill of O’Clare.  I could tell by the size of the hoof prints and the stride that this was a big one and that my task was a challenge.  I was not deterred, I had my spear and sling I had taken off a Zulu warrior and a trusty British Enfield I had acquired during the troubles, nothing would stop me from by task.

“I came to the first row of thickets and pressed thru, cutting my skin and tearing my clothes but on I went.  I proceeded this way for an hour or so until I stepped in a bog and sunk to my hips.  I struggled out of the muck but in so doing I dropped my Enfield and it was sucked down in the mud.  There was no way of retrieving it.  My spear and sling were looped over my shoulder so I continued my hunt.

“I clawed and crawled through the thickets that ran up hill for another hour or so.  I finally came to a clearing and paused to rest.  I must have dozed off for I was awoken by a sound that immediately put a shiver in my spine.  I looked around to where the sound was coming from and saw the biggest Killer Sheep I had ever seen.  Bigger than the one they use to keep stuffed at the terminal at the Shannon Airport until the tourism commission protested.  For some reason though the Killer Sheep was not aware of my presence.  I silently said a Hale Marry and an Our Father. 

“Gently and quietly I rose to my feet, assembled by spear and sling and with all my might through the spear and hit the Killer Sheep right above his shoulder blade.  To my horror however the spear bounced off.  The Killer Sheep turned and sat its eyes upon me.  It snorted like a wild hog, pawed its front hoofs like a raging bull, and charged at me like a white rhino, all of which I had seen before, but never without a weapon in my hand.

“A Killer Sheep’s speed is legendary, but this one seemed faster than legends.  The closer he got the faster he got and when there was just a few yards separating us he opened his mouth wide as if to engulf me like a whale did one of my companions when I was whaling off the coast of Madagascar and continued his attack.

“I stood my ground however knowing I could not out run the beast and just as he was about to make me no more I reached inside its mouth with my right arm plunged it to the rear of the beast, grabbed its stubby tail pulled back as hard as I could turned the creature inside out and he started running the other way.” 

I told Brian to get Mr. O’Gradey a quart of whatever it was he was drinking.  On this day I had been out done.

the last chapter in River Road

The last page of chapter 7, called Just a Whisper A Way


Her faith was strong and she had no doubts of where she was going.  She said she would always be there when I needed her and I was not to shut my self off from others and become a hermit.  She said that when a person dies they just go to sleep and then wake to a glorious morning where all the questions are answered, all the sadness gone, and one is surround with love.  One of the last things she said to me before drifting off to that stage where she would not return was "I'll see you in the morning Dolly."  Her pet name for those who she loved.

She never told me what she wanted me to do with her ashes and for several weeks I kept her in my office at home and would talk to her now and then.  They were not long conversations and I did not expect a reply.

Eventually, one autumn evening, her favorite time of year, I walked down the path that we had so often walked along River Road and scattered he ashes here and there with the bulk of her remains placed gingerly around a little oak grove near a bubbling brook.

My life is moving forward and each day things get a little less painful.  She rests in that corner of my mind that is reserved just for her.  I still walk the path along river road just like we use to do and as I am doing.   I hear the wind among the leaves and hear a faint whisper.  I really can't make out what is being said but it makes no difference -we all are just a whisper away from our loved ones.  I of course always respond in the same way just as I am now  "I'll see you in the morning Dolly."

Family Secrets - Christmas Travel

In all the years I spent in Alaska I only decided to return to the lower 48 for Christmas once.  My kids were a little up set, more for me than for them I suspect.  They had visions of me sitting in my little basement dwelling, watching television all alone with a little TV dinner while I cried into my eggnog.  That was not the case due to nice people that always seemed to take pity on a single person around Christmas time.  I always had a Christmas dinner and a New Year happening to go to.  The reason I did not return more than once had a lot to do about not spending the $1000 the trip would have cost and the hassle it involved.

The coming and going from the village over Christmas vacation was always a real mental and physical hardship let alone a financial drain.  Leaving from bush Alaska is not an easy task under the best of circumstances let alone over a busy holiday period.

The year I did return, my first year there, it went something like this -

Around the 20^th of December the teachers who were leaving congregated in the school office.  They waited for the fifteen minute warning call from a plane that would carry them off.  When the call was received all the bags were thrown into a sled attached to a snow-go and we piled on top of them and sped towards the landing strip.  We hoped our timing was right so as not to miss the plane or worse yet get to the strip to early and wait in the freezing cold longer than necessary.  The plane only held nine people plus baggage and it takes two and sometimes three trips in an out of the village to the regional airport, about an hour away, to get everyone on their way.

Once arriving at the regional airport, in this particular case Bethel, it was easy to transfer to a regular jet liner, seating about 50, for the trip to Anchorage.  We got into Anchorage around 10:00 PM and the flight to the lower 48 took off at 6:00 AM.  Going to a motel seems ludicrous so it is customary to find a soft metal bench or an even a softer portion of some indoor outdoor carpet and try and sleep. 

The flight I was on was going to Seattle first where you may or not spend the night.  Sometimes the flight goes to Chicago or even Houston non stop but not this time.  From Seattle we went to Denver then to Chicago, my final destination that year. 

After visiting that year the return trip I thought would be more relaxing due mostly to the fact I didn’t care if I got back on time or not.  However it turned out to be far more taxing.

It was a direct shot to Anchorage from Chicago.  What could go wrong?  Well, as we were going down the runway and were just about ready to lift off for our seven hour flight the engines suddenly unwound, setting the nose back on the tarmac and the plane started heading back towards the terminal.  The captain came over the intercom and explained that there was nothing serious but a light had come on indicating a pressure door was malfunctioning.  It needed to be checked out.  It took two hours to check the situation out and naturally we were not allowed to deplane. 

We tried the takeoff again and this time met with success.  The seven hour flight went smooth enough but every time we hit an air pocket I had visions of one of the doors blowing off.

Our landing in Anchorage was as smooth a landing as I had ever experienced.  We parked by our gate but then it took another two hours to get the door opened.  I guess they did a good job of closing it in Chicago.

By this time it was midnight and our plane to Bethel was leaving at 4:00 AM.  So I found another soft metal bench and some softer indoor outdoor carpeting close to the ticket gate and settled in.

I had planned on being first in line that morning but so did everyone else and I was number 29.  By the time I was number 10 an airline employee made an announcement indicating I was in the wrong line.  I informed whoever would listen that I was in the line I was told to be in.  I was then informed by a very polite soft spoken lady representing the airline that I was now being told to do something else and that I need not yell.

I am ashamed to say that I must have made quite a scene going to another line because two airline ticket agents came out from behind the counter and gave me special attention.  I was calming down and things were going well when it was discovered that the computer did not have me listed on the flight to Bethel and there were no seats left for over twenty-four hours.  Another scene arose.  As I was shouting out my confirmation number a phone call was made and security guards started congregating in the area.  The problem was soon rectified and I thanked the ticket agent the best I could through my hyperventilating and went off to my gate.

We took off without door problems or lights coming on and an hour later we landed in Bethel amidst a blizzard.  I took a $12, three block cab ride to the air carrier that would take me to Hooper Bay in about an hour.  I was informed that the flight had been delayed due to weather.  Ten hours later the flight was canceled.  I was put on a stand by list for the following morning.

In the mean time more teachers had arrived trying to catch a flight to the bush. They were more experienced than I about such things so I just sat back and listened to what they had to say.  The terminal was closing down and the authorities would not allow anyone to stay in the terminal over night.  To bad I thought because the metal benches seemed sort of comfortable.  The travel pros had made tentative reservations at one of the several motels and by the time I started calling around there were no rooms at the inn.  I pictured myself standing out in the cold all night when a teacher suggested I call the police to see if they had room.  I was a little perplexed until he informed me that sometimes the police let stranded passengers sleep in one of the cells if one was available.  I had no choice.

I made the call to the local constabulary and was told to come on over.  Twenty minutes and $15 later I was placed in a cell with two other transients for the night.  It was the first and only time up till now that I have ever been incarcerated as such.

The next morning I caught a taxi back to the airport, this time costing $20 and got ready for my supposedly 9:00 AM flight.  Nine AM came and went and around 10:00 AM I began to hear rumors that weather was still bad in Hooper Bay and that we would be in Bethel another night.  It was then that the luck of the Irish placed its charms around me.

 As I was leaning against the counter listening to the pros talk about what to do next, an employee came out of the back room from behind the counter and told the Eskimo ticket agent to get nine people on a manifest to Hooper Bay and he did not care which nine they were.  So much for a stand by list.  I immediately turned around and said, “Give me a ticket.”  The teachers began jostling and shoving their way to the counter and I got out of the way for fear of life and limb.  The plane took off about an hour later.

When we landed in Hooper Bay it was 10 below and the wind chill brought the temperature down to minus 42.  There was no time to delay.  We hurriedly threw our bags on the sled trip to school, jumped on top and off we went towards the school about a mile away.  We zoomed across the tundra at 35 mph which was fast but not fast enough into the wind and a teacher later told me that he calculated the temperature was -75 degrees with the wind chill.

The following years I made no special attempt to go home for Christmas.  It was too much of a hassle.  I told my family and friends not to worry about me but to instead concern themselves with those young men and women that are really spending Christmas far away from home and really have no choice.  They are not teachers, I think the term used is "being in the military."

Family Secrets - Music Festival

If you were there I don't have to describe it, if you were to young or not there you have perhaps heard the stories and I don't need to repeat them.  If you heard it was full of nudity, public sex, and drugs-you heard right.  But there is another story you might not have heard:

The local National Guard unit and those units in the surrounding area as far away as Kansas City were put on duty that weekend.  We went about our business as usual.  The Adjutant General of the state of Missouri visited our unit and went on a fact finding mission to the festival.  He wore civilian clothes and without a huge entourage. 

About 1 a.m. Sunday morning I received a phone call from my commanding officer who told me to report to the armory immediately and to ware civilian clothes.  The Chief of Staff of the Army National Guard got us all together, about 100 of us, and told us that there was one drug overdose case every five minutes being taken to the the Bothwell emergency room.  The concern was that there were many more that were not making it to Bothwell and needed assistance.  "You are on a life saving mission, you are not there to enforce laws.  You have about 10% hard core out there but the remaining 90% are just kids raising hell and having fun in their mind."

A dawn we all boarded army vehicles, given a Security T-shirt, and given sectors to patrol and a radio if help was needed to evacuate some one from the grounds.  A make shift hospital was set up near the site of the fair administration building manned by army doctors and nurses flown in from a Kansas City armory. 

About half way through the day I received a call that my wife had called the armory, that she needed me and I was to come home immediately.  I was whisked off by a highway patro car, found my wife in labor.  I took my wife to the hospital where she gave birth to our first daughter.  She asked me if I was going back to the fair grounds and I said no, they can manage without me. 

For the most part the Ozark Music Festival was handled just fine.  I don't know if any deaths occurred or not, it has been a long time ago and far, far, away it seems. 

Family Secrets - Homecomig

Family Secrets - Homecoming.

I do not recall the day or any special events leading up to the time Dad got home from Korea.  I am sure there must have been some discussion about Dad’s homecoming but I do not recall any single event except Christmas morning of 1954. 

We had as usual put up a tree and had plenty of presents underneath.  I was as excited as a second grader would be for Christmas morning.  My grandfather and grandmother were not happy at all.  A sadness permeated their face.  I was eager to open my presents and was allowed to do so, but they told me that they wanted to wait and open theirs when Dad got home.  I remember thinking why would they want to wait with all those packages just begging to be opened.  I cannot recall any particular present I got that year.  It would be a nice touch to this narrative for me to say the best present I got that year was Dad coming home and it was but only in retrospect.

While I was playing with whatever I got Mama and Baba just sort of went about their business trying to pass the time away and even going to the front door now and then to see who had just pulled up in front of the house.  I remember Baba going out in the front yard just standing their smoking cigarettes looking up and down the street while Mama busied herself in the kitchen. 

I don’t know how long it was after Christmas when Dad did arrived, but it must not have been that long, like two or three days, because I was still on vacation from school and was allowed to stay up late at night.

My grandfather was working the night shift at Westinghouse and Mama was in the kitchen when I heard the porch door open and though the window pane of our house Dad looked though the glass smiling. 

I am sure that my grandmother must have cried while they hugged and the only thing I remember is Dad telling her it seemed like home had been a world away the last two years. 

My Grandfather got home around midnight and they sat down and opened all the remaining presents.  I even had a couple to open that Mama had hid.  I was glad to get them and while they stayed up and visited I sat next to Dad on the couch and drifted off to sleep.