Kate's remarks about Old Mr. Brown triggered my memory and I relived an unforgettable experience, one that placed Old Mr. Brown high on my idol list. He could fight as well as the movie heroes.
    We finished setting up a prank and were causally leaving the scene. We were not concerned about being seen because downtown was empty at sunset and it was now dark. I stopped to look in a store window. The others were a half a block ahead of me, when three men came out of the bar, they turned and walked the same direction as we were. We ran toward the alley to get out of sight. Before I reached the alley the three men reversed direction. I ducked into the doorway of a jewelry store. I could see them through the glass doorway and the front window, if they didn't go back into the bar I was going to pretend looking at the jewelry and keep my back to them.
    Before they reached the bar, Old Mr. Brown came out of the Attorney's office stairway and carefully avoided the three men. One intentionally bumped Old Mr. Brown. He apologized to the man and continued on his way, but the man would not accept his apology, he was looking for a fight.
    Obviously they were strangers, no one would even think of talking mean to Old Mr. Brown. They surrounded him and began to push him. "Please fellows I don't want any trouble."
    "You have trouble whether you want it or not."
    "I don't want to hurt you."
    "Don't make me laugh. Come on hurt me." When Old Mr. Brown didn't respond, he shoved him. Old Mr. Brown shoved him out of his way and walked down the street. One grabbed him from behind and another threw a punch at him. The punch was evaded and the other thrown to the ground. The third threw a punch, but collapsed in mid swing, Old Mr. Brown's counter punch was faster. As each one got to his feet Old Mr. Brown put them back on the ground. Each time they got up more slowly than before, but they wouldn't stop.
    The Attorney came down from his second story office and the Chief screeched his car to a stop. "Are you OK B1?"
    "Yes, you know what to do." The Attorney and Old Mr. Brown left.
    "Where is your car?"
    "What's it to you?" The chief grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground. "Don't give me any lip punk or I'll kill you with my bare hands," and slammed his head on the side walk.
    "Now where is your car?" Another pointed. The Chief walked over, wrote down the license plate number, returned to his own car, and sat on the fender. "Now get in your car and drive carefully out of town, and don't return."
    Slowly they walked to their car and drove away with the Chief as a trailing escort. When the cars turned the corner, I walked down the street. I didn't have any difficulty finding the spot where Old Mr. Brown put the three men to the ground, blood was smeared all around. "Gee."
    I ran to the loft. The others were waiting for me in the dark, "Where have you been?"
    "You'll never believe me," and I told them.
    "You're right, we don't believe you, it's so contrary to everything we know about Old Mr. Brown."
    "Let's check the sidewalk tomorrow morning before school. It's bed time, see you in the morning." We checked the sidewalk, it was clean and dry. We discreetly asked many people during and after school, no one had heard a thing. If anyone besides me had seen or heard anything that night, they weren't talking.
    Separately we asked people to tell us what they knew about Old Mr. Brown. We didn't learn anything we didn't already know. The only stories associated with violence were, he came from a family of marksmen, he lost five brothers and a distant cousin in the second world war, and he nearly killed a KKK leader with his bare hands when he tried to preach hate and violence in front of the statue.
    We knew about his shooting ability and how determined he was not to lose anymore of his 'boys'. Not only did he lose members of his family, he lost more than half of his friends. The only reason the plant did any work for the government at all was to protect his 'boys'. Every draft eligible man was employed in that department until they didn't need draft protection any longer. He made sure the draft board knew they were working in a critical position so they would be exempt from the draft. He didn't interfere with any man who wanted to enlist, that was their choice. Every vet told the same story. Before they left town, they had to have dinner with Old Mr. Brown and before dinner was over they knew how proud he was of them and that the Brown family would take care of them and their families if anything happened.
    Except for the KKK story not one other story indicated he could fight or ever did fight, so where did he learn to fight? The answer was so obvious we looked at one another in disbelief. We researched the library on Saturday morning. The library had many books containing newspaper clippings concerning Old Mr. Brown. In those thousand or more clippings, only two mentioned his military service. One was the story about him and twelve classmates enlisting after graduation and the other his honorable discharge as the last surviving male of his family.
    It was as if a chapter was torn from his history. We were disappointed, but as usual not for long because Bountiful almost immediately said, "Let's check out the Chief and the Attorney. We went through the clippings together because there was only one thin book on the chief and only a few clippings on the Attorney in another book on miscellaneous people.
    Nothing, the only thing of interest was one sentence that was common to both men when they were first hired. The town council hired the Chief over all other candidates on the recommendation of Mr. Brown and the Attorney was hired by the town law firm on the recommendation of Mr. Brown. We looked at each other, there was only one way Old Mr. Brown could know these men. Before Bob could speak, I said, "Beautiful, call Old Mr. Brown and ask if we could meet with him. Bountiful, call the Attorney and see if we can meet with him. I want to look at some pictures again."
    "What analysis have you come up with this time, Brains?"
    "A hunch, just a hunch. I'll bet both will tell you, 'No'."
    "No! You have to be kidding. Old Mr. Brown sees everyone and the Attorney hasn't had a client in two years."
    "I'll bet. Go call. Call the chief, too." I was still looking at pictures when they returned shaking their heads.
    "I can't believe it. The Attorney is out of town and Old Mr. Brown can't see us until sometime next week, but the Chief will see us after lunch."
    "Fine, let's go home, eat lunch, and go to the police station." We joshed and teased each other both ways, but didn't say much about what we had learned during the morning. We told the desk sergeant we had an appointment with the Chief. He went to the Chief's door, "Chief, the Three B's are here to see you."
    "Ask them to wait in my car, I'll be with them as soon as I finish this phone call." He returned to us, but we were walking to the door. "Thanks." We ran to the car and slammed the doors shut, I was in the front seat and the other two in the back. "I know where we are going and who we are going to meet."
    "We're going to meet the others who know about the fight, that's obvious. What else do you know?"
    "Here comes the Chief, I'll tell you as we go." As the Chief got into his car, "What are you going to tell them?"
    "Where we are going?"
    "Well, I didn't think you would mind talking to me while I drove to and from a special meeting. You don't mind do you?"
    "Certainly not."
    Smiling, the Chief said, "Tell me where to go."
    "Take the West River road." To the other B's, "Remember each time we stopped at the rock shelter on the Nob, we would say, 'Someone has been here recently.' Well, now I know who that someone was and why. They met at the Nob only during the day, so no one would know they met and no one would over hear their conversation by accident. Night meetings weren't as difficult because most people in Middleville stay at home after eight every night except Friday and Saturday."
    "Why the Nob?" The Chief grinned, "Because no one ever went there except for the Three B's."
    "What were the meetings about?"
    "My guess would be that they were updating one another on the needs of the people of Middleville and who was keeping their agreements, but most importantly they were supporting one another." The chief burst out laughing, "Out of the mouths of babes," and laughed again.
    The Chief parked his car beside two others with 'ears' and we walked up the Nob to the shelter. "Chief may I do the introductions?"
    "Certainly."
    "B's I'd like you to meet Captain Bates B3," the Chief nodded. "And First Sergeant Blackmoore B2, and Sergeant Brown B1. The Three B's meet the Three B's." As I spoke the men stepped out of the shelter and shook hands with each of us.
    The Chief turned to the men, "I told you we had to talk with them, you won't believe what I've heard. I'll let them tell the rest of their story." The others nodded agreement. "OK, Brains tell the rest of your story. Why did we meet here?"
    "I'll start, but the others will help," and I repeated what I had said in the car and added, "But I'll bet the most important reason was so no one else would see grown men cry.
    I speak for all of us, we will keep your secret, we will never tell anyone." Bob and Barb quickly confirmed my statement.
    "How did you come to these conclusions."
    "Logic, deductions, and good guesses based on the stories we have read about the war. First, the Chief arrived too soon after the fight started, he must have been at the meeting, left by the back stairway, and drove around the block. Second, the news release about Billy never made sense."
    Barb sat down on a stone bench as if she was carrying a very heavy load, the whole story had come together for her, tears streamed down her face. "Third, the radio messages we heard....,"
    The Chief interrupted, "Why are you crying?" Beautiful stood, tears still running down her face. "Because the essay I wrote and read on Memorial Day several years ago was not true. You know the one about Mr. Brown's distant relative, Billy 'Bull' Brown. Billy didn't die saving the lives of the last three original members of a commando unit, did he?"
    Now tears ran down Old Mr. Brown's face, Barb threw her arms around him and clung to him. Bountiful continued, "Let me revise the essay. Intelligence learned of an enemy commando raid on a staging area. You three were assigned to stop them so as not to disclose that our intelligence knew about the raid. You were given a squad of new replacements as a cover and to dig the fox holes you would need and to be support if necessary. More than thirty enemy soldiers died that day, a lot more.
    You chose a site that was open, high, and where the enemy would have to go, such as a mountain pass. You chose where the fox holes would be dug and assigned the replacement squad to one side, out of your line of fire and sat and waited. You knew the replacement squad would give your position away. That would force the enemy to decide whether to call off the mission or to destroy the squad before it could communicate with headquarters. You knew the commandos would recognize the replacement squad as inept and would decide to destroy them. Your plan worked better than you expected because of Billy.
    He received his nick name because he was so stubborn. He would never do as he was told. His actions alone would have convinced the enemy that they could destroy the squad without losing very much time. Once they closed on the replacement squad they would be committed and wouldn't quit until the last man.
    You were watching carefully, when the enemy reserve squad was seven hundred yards away, B1 opened fire. I would bet that the reserve squad died before they reached six hundred yards and another rear squad before they reached five hundred. Now the enemy was focusing on one man and at five hundred yards B2 and B3 opened fire and the slaughter was on.
    You always shot the enemy furthest away so the closer ones wouldn't know how many of their comrades had fallen and they would continue to think you were a terrible marksman because all of your shots missed them. The enemy probably use a standard tactic, one flank would move while the other flank provided covering fire. That forced you to shoot first in one direction and then in another.
    My bet is that as B1 shot, good old Billy jumped up right into his line of fire, instead of staying down as he was told."
    B1 slumped on to a stone bench with B2 and B3 on each side of him for support. Beautiful stood as they went down. "I'll bet B1 saved your lives many times and ever since you arrived in Middleville you have been trying to save his psychological life."
    Old Mr. Brown's face was contorted beyond recognition with agony, but not a sound came from him. Now everyone was crying. The Three B's stood embracing one another. In order to help myself recover I turned, walked a short distance, and looked out over the only small piece of waste land in the middle of a fertile valley. This was an excellent spot for a private meeting, nothing but rock and gravel in all directions for over a half a mile. If some one came we could leave by any one of three other roads without the approaching people ever knowing we had just left.
    A gust of wind shook me and then all was still. The quiet was unnerving, I turned back to the others, they had regained some composure. The men sat a little straighter and everyone had stopped crying. I put one hand on Barb's shoulder and the other on Bob's. Barb looked up at me and her face changed from sad to content. She walked over to B1 and knelt down facing him, took his hands in hers, "Mr. Brown what happened was not your fault, Billy must take responsibility for his actions. You are forgiven, why can't you forgive yourself?"
    "I just can't. I can hardly face his family now, how could I ever face them if they knew I shot him in the back of his head."
    "No one should ever tell them the truth, it must remain our secret. The truth in a case like this is much worse than the lie. It would only increase their pain and it wouldn't help you. Think of it this way, if they knew the truth what would happen to them?"
    "It would destroy them and their relationship with the rest of the family."
    "Then you are saving their lives." Again the silence was unnerving. Time was meaningless. The Chief brought everyone back to reality some moments later.
    "Gentlemen is there any wonder why all the gossip in Middleville starts with, 'What did the Three B's do yesterday? Have you heard?' Pretty damn good for teen agers, wouldn't you say. They were so close they almost hit the ten ring." The Attorney said, "How do you feel B1, are you OK to travel."
    "I don't feel good, but better than after most recoveries." He turned to us, "I would be honored if you would work at the plant after you graduate, choose your position and hours. I need more people I can confide my troubles with, to share the burden so to speak. It really helps to be able to talk with people who understand, even if only briefly and it would sure help my buddies, they have been a Godsend, but they have been doing over time much too long. They deserve some relief.
    Could I join you the next time you go hiking? How about biking?" We looked at one another and said in unison, "We would be honored to accept all you have offered."
    "I like the biking idea, do you have bikes?"
    "No."
    "I'll take care of that." He looked at the sun angle, "We better leave." B1 left first taking the shortest route, followed by B2 taking the next shortest route, and we took the longest route.
    The Chief drove slow, he wanted to talk. Obviously, he considered us his confidants as well. He told us things we had never heard. He corrected our revised version of the essay, our guesses were remarkably close. "You were right, more than thirty enemy soldiers died that day and more than a hundred surrendered.
    The enemy commander surrendered when he realized he was in a trap. We weren't alone and B2 and I never fired a shot. We provided outside flank support for two heavy machine guns and their ammo carriers. The machine guns closed the gates of the trap with their fire. We were to stop any enemy soldiers that managed to get through their fire. No one did.
    B1 and the replacement squad were to keep the enemy from shooting the gunners from the inside. The replacement squad was on both sides of B1 with orders not to shoot unless they had to and they were not to leave their holes.
    If B1 had a choice, he never fired more than three rounds in one direction or from one position. That day he had a choice. The replacement squad dug six fox holes for him, each connected by a trench forming a small circle on the side of the hill. B1 shot several times and moved to another hole. He changed directions and choose holes randomly. Billy moved to four different fox holes ending in one of B1's lower holes before he stood in B1's line of fire.
    Stupidity"
    He shook his head, "I can't believe those stupid men, picking a fight with B1, that man is such a cool, calm, calculated killer.
    I'm glad I got to the fight before he went over the edge. Those stupid fools would've been grease spots in another minute. B1 would have transformed into a killing machine by then.
    Fools will fight with anyone and never realize the danger they are in.
    I almost lost my cool because of their stupidity. If any one of them had given me any more lip, I would have killed them myself. That's why we meet on a regular basis, we keep pulling each other back from the brink. He saved our lives many times beginning with our first fight.
    None of us had been in combat before, no one had killed anyone before, and when the time came all the bravado evaporated and everyone of us buried our heads at the bottom of our fox holes. Not him, I was in a hole several yards behind and to the right of him. When the enemy artillery barge stopped and the enemy soldiers came within his range he began to shoot. I never met a man who could shoot so fast and so accurate. All I could hear was bam bam bam pause, bam bam bam pause, over and over, interleaved with a ping as his clip ejected.
    Soon he was out of ammo. He yelled above the noise, "If you bastards won't shoot, give me your ammo." No one moved, he yelled again, "Give me your ammo." B2 crawled out of his hole and gave him his and then crawled to other holes and took their ammo to him. As soon as he had more ammo, it started again, bam bam bam pause. The tempo slowed, he only shot once in a while and his tempo deceased even more as time passed. After sunset he yelled, "Stay in your holes, don't move, I'll shoot any movement I see." His tempo continued to slow, till at dawn all was quiet.
    I finally had enough nerve to look around, B1 was cleaning his weapon. I couldn't see any movement so I stood and used my binoculars. I couldn't see any movement as far as I could see. I yelled 'all clear' and walked over to B1's hole, he had disappeared. He was sound asleep at the bottom of his hole.
    I walked around to survey the aftermath, two enemy soldiers had penetrated our position and many were directly in front of it. I checked each squad, no one had been hit. As the men slowly crawled out of their holes and saw the dead men and realized how close they were with death, some became sick and puked their guts out, the rest stared at the results of one man with a sick look on their faces.
    B2 came over and I told him to take three men and make sure the dead were dead and to redistribute the ammunition. The rest of us slept or ate or sat and stared. B2 came back, 'You'll never believe this, all rounds are accounted for, there is a body for every round he fired. He didn't miss and he never shot the same man twice.'
    Later when we could talk about it, the whole platoon asked, 'How did you do it, how could you kill another man?'
    'I didn't kill another man, I killed dogs that were trying to kill my uncle's sheep. If you think of them as men, as human beings, you will never kill.'
    No one said a word, we just slowly drifted away.
    Artillery rounds exploded a short distance away and everyone dove for cover. When the barge stopped, a few joined in when he began to fire. The fighting stopped at sunset and began again at sunrise. This time more fired when he did. By noon the entire platoon was shooting, if they hadn't we would not have survived.
    The enemy kept coming and coming. When they finally withdrew, a third of the platoon was dead or wounded. A runner stopped, exhausted, in front of me, when he could speak, 'Lieutenant, the general is putting your unit in for commendations, your valiant effort may have saved the entire battle. You and your men are to report to battalion headquarters as soon as the morgue detail arrives.'
    I didn't know where battalion headquarters were. We were thrown into the battle by a general to replace an annihilated battalion. He had used all of his reserves and reinforcements wouldn't arrive in time.
    Later I learned, on that third day, our platoon had repelled an enemy infantry battalion, they withdrew because their loses were so high. I walked over to B1, "I'm going to put you in for a medal.' He didn't say a thing for over a minute, he held my eyes with a cold icy stare. I swear I stopped breathing and my heart stopped beating. I was freezing. I never felt that cold, ever. 'Don't you dare give me a medal for killing men', and after a short pause, 'Sir'.
    Before our next battle everyone watched and did what he did. If he had the time before a fight, he would pig out the day before and then get ready. He always checked his rifle last. Then he would sit and stare, he wouldn't eat or drink or talk, just sit and stare. When B2 said, 'Let's go', all his movements were smooth, methodical, and calculated, no wasted energy. He had ice water in his veins, nothing distracted him from what he had to do. People could die next to him or shells could explode near him, it was as if nothing had happened.
    When asked about it, 'I'm a dead man, dead men have no worries'. Soon our platoon and later our company was know as the 'machine'. We lived longer than the men in other units, but it also meant that headquarters always gave us the roughest assignments.
    I will not try to guess how many he killed, he killed however he had to, with his rifle, his bayonet, his bare hands. But can you imagine those stupid fools wanting to fight with him. I can't," he slammed his hand against the dashboard, "Stupidity, damn stupidity.
    Enough, I've recalled more than I can handle and I didn't want to recall any of it."
    He asked questions and got us to talking until we were home. Old Mr. Brown did take care of 'that'. He stopped and talked to our parents and told them, "If you missed your children it was my fault. They were helping me and I lost track of the time. New bikes will be delivered some time next week and they earned every penny of the cost.
    If it is convenient I would like to go biking with them next Saturday at ten."
    The king had come to our homes and had spoken to them and had asked them for a favor. We couldn't have brought greater honor to them. After that, in our parents eyes we could do no wrong. They reminded us almost every day lest we forget about the bike ride on Saturday.
    Old Mr. Brown said we influenced him much more than he influenced us, but I don't see how that was possible. His influence on us, our families, and our lives was incredible. We learned very quickly not to mention anything we wanted or desired, even in the most casual way because if he could get it or do it, it was done.
    He wanted to see our loft. We were pleased to show him. He examined everything and wanted to know how we used it, what we learned, how we learned it, and what our plans were. He was amused by our radio and camping equipment. By the end of the month we had new back packs and a new receiver-transmitter and antenna. Our parents never said a word.
    I would like to think we did influence him, the Chief, and the Attorney, but how can you ever be sure? We made a point of talking to each of them at least once a week in person or by radio if they didn't visit the loft. All three were married before we graduated from college.
    In turn, Old Mr. Brown, with the help of the Chief and the Attorney, slowly converted us from being pranksters into minor assistants for his philanthropy. He would beam from ear to ear as he told us how we had helped him, many times without knowing we were doing so. It was a pleasant experience to hear him tell how he had snuck one passed us, obviously, he enjoyed it.
    He encouraged our interest in science and later, in engineering. He provided us with scholarships and a car for college. He suggested Bob and I join the local national guard, the Korean war ended the same month as our graduation from high school.
    The older B's protected us from ourselves and paid for any damage we did. He replaced the high school physics lab. He made sure our parents had complimentary tickets to all our school activities and made sure they had transportation. The older B's were our biggest fans at our athletic events, at home and away. They chaperoned all our dances. They remained our friends for life.
 

Return to 3B's table of contents
 
 

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

Return to 3B's table of contents
 
 

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

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

Return to 3B's table of contents