Chapter                                                            Chapter
        1    The Three B's                                               2    Memories
        3    Evening                                                         4   The Day of Ice
        5    That Night                                                     6    Old Mr. Brown
        7    Eavesdropping                                              8    The Last Entry
 

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

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

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