The Freak: Part 5.

We begin our life together.

Based on a post by Senor Longo. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

 

“The house looks nice, Jack.”

“I’m sure it is, but I doubt we’ll live there. He doesn’t want to do it. He was looking for an excuse not to. He also thinks he can cheat us out of a thousand dollars. Once he gets his hands on that money we’ll never get it back.”

“Can he do that?”

“He’ll come up with some phantom problem and we’ll have to go to court to get it back. It’s a good location, but I’m sure Mr. Silverman will advise us not to get involved.”

Sure enough, that’s exactly what he told me. “Stay away from that jerk, Jack. We’ll find something else.” And he did. By Wednesday the real estate agent he was using had found us a house to share with a widow. She was pleasant and offered to cook our meals for a small fee if I would agree to maintain the yard and her flower beds. It was a winning proposition for both of us. She; Mrs. Mazzone; had a bedroom and bathroom on the first floor along with the kitchen and living room that she was willing to share while Barbara and I had a good-sized bedroom, bath, and a smaller room where we could study on the second.

Barbara and I walked into the high school main office at 7:45 Monday morning where we were greeted by Mrs. Cecil. “Morning, Jack; and you must be Barbara. I know that Mr. Wickers isn’t too happy, but I think what you did was wonderful.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cecil. Here are Barbara’s records and here’s a note in regard to Wednesday.”

“You’re appearing before the grand jury? Oh, my! I guess that really will be a legal excuse, won’t it?” Then she laughed and her laugh brought our asshole principal out from his office.

“I’m not very happy with you, Mr. French!”

“I really don’t care, Mr. Wickers. I want Barbara to be here and she is. I’m taking her down to see Mrs. Costello now. You’ll find out soon enough what kind of person she is.” I took Barbara by the arm and led her away.

“Oh, Jack; I’m so sorry. I’m nothing but trouble for you.”

I pulled her into the lobby where there were several large pillars. Standing behind one I told her, “I don’t ever want to hear you say that again. I love you, Barbara, and I’m thrilled to be married to you. Wickers is a pretty good principal most of the time, but he’s also a real asshole sometimes and this is one of those times. Mr. Silverman saw the superintendent last week and he passed the word down to Wickers. His reaction is exactly what I thought it would be.” I leaned down for a quick kiss that, fortunately, was unobserved and walked Barbara down the hall to see Mrs. Costello, the guidance counselor.

Unlike Mr. Wickers she was warm and welcoming. She spent a few minutes asking Barbara what she was studying at St. Claudia’s. Then she created a schedule for Barbara. She would be in my homeroom and my English and history classes, but while I was taking calculus she was taking advanced algebra and she was also taking chemistry instead of physics. Spanish 3 and physical education rounded out her schedule.

We were walking to the lockers when she asked me, “What is physical education?”

“It’s a chance to get good and sweaty in the gym. I’ll have to ask Mom where to get a gym suit for you. Maybe Angela has one that will fit you. Let’s find your locker. I think it’ll be right across the hall from mine.” It was, and it took me a minute or two to show her how it worked. In that time several of my classmates came over to say hello and welcome Barbara to the school. We were only a minute late to homeroom and we were all amused when Mrs. Snyder asked Barbara if she was related to me.

“We’re not blood relatives, Ma’am. We have the same name because we’re married.” Mrs. Snyder was shocked and everyone chuckled, remembering that all-out laughing wasn’t appropriate in school.

I made a brief explanation, telling her that all would become clear within the next month or so then Barbara took a seat near the rear of the room where there was an empty seat. This was a big room; big enough to hold every senior in the school. That came in handy when we had to make announcements to the class or discuss some class activity.

I was headed to physics first period while Barbara had Spanish. Marlene offered to help her find the classroom. We parted with a quick hug and the next time I saw her was fourth period in English with Mrs. Wohl. By then she knew all about Barbara’s presence. She added Barbara to her roll book and told her to take a seat wherever she could find one. Marlene was sitting next to me and got up to allow Barbara to sit there while she found another seat a few rows back.

You’d be disappointed if you thought there would be any shenanigans between us. We had plenty of that at home and our situation with Mrs. Mazzone was better than we had anticipated. “I know you were married only two weeks ago and, believe it or not, I was young once too so don’t worry about making a bit of noise at night. I’m sure you get my meaning.” We did and we still made love every night and many mornings, too. In return we always received a beaming smile from our landlady.

We actually attended one class Wednesday morning before leaving school for our drive to the Yonkers PD. Lieutenant Flanagan was waiting for us and whisked us into his sedan only a minute later. He was all business as he described what would happen. “I’ll have to testify first. Basically, the district attorney handling the case will ask a simple question and it will be our responsibility to flesh out the answer. Don’t embellish and be honest in what you say and all will go well. Relax and don’t be nervous. There is no cross examination at the grand jury. Did I explain that to you?”

“Yes,” I said with a little chuckle. “I think you’re even more nervous than we are.”

“If I am it’s for Barbara. I’m sure she doesn’t like reliving that horrible experience.”

“You’re right, Lieutenant, but if it will help stop those atrocities I’ll tell the story a thousand times.”

“You’re a brave young woman, Barbara. I’ll try to get Jack to testify first so he can be with you while you testify.”

I hadn’t realized that we had to go all the way to White Plains, the county seat, so it was almost 10:00 by the time we had arrived. Lt. Flanagan led us inside until we were stopped by several court officers who wanted to see our ID. Flanagan flashed his badge and ID card and Barbara and I pulled our wallets to show our driver’s licenses. Only after emptying our pockets and Barbara’s purse were we allowed to pass. I was somewhat concerned until Lt. Flanagan assured us that it was to insure privacy and confidentiality of the grand jury’s proceedings.

We were about halfway down the hall when a door opened and we saw a woman I guessed was in her mid-thirties approach us. She greeted Lt. Flanagan who introduced her as ADA Linda Koslowsky. We shook hands and she reviewed what would happen even though Lt. Flanagan had just done that in the car. She agreed to the order he had suggested, telling us not to become anxious due to the delay. “The grand jury is always deliberate,” she said with a chuckle. “By deliberate I really mean slow. Not only do I ask questions, but they sometimes do, too and their questions can really go far afield of the issues. But this is the process we use and it’s been in existence for hundreds of years so it must work.” With that she led Lt. Flanagan away.

Barbara and I sat in the uncomfortable seats for more than an hour until she reappeared to bring me into the room. I kissed Barbara and walked in, showing my surprise when the door locked behind me. There were a lot of people seated in rows that rose in four tiers. I thought that there were at least forty, but that was just a guess. A clerk approached and I was sworn in. That was when I first noticed the judge off to the left of the jury. Once seated, the ADA asked for my name, address, age, and a few facts about my high school experiences.

I described both my academic and athletic achievements; I was a bit taken aback when one of the jurors asked if I was the one who had made All-American. “Yes, sir; that was me. I was named All-American the past two seasons.” Then Mrs. Kozlowski questioned me about my involvement in the case at hand. I explained how and why I had proposed to Barbara and I described the ring in detail; size and color of the stone, its quality, and the type of setting and band. Lt. Flanagan had already produced the receipt and I stated clearly that it was the one I had received from Harry Winston in Manhattan. I couldn’t testify about what had occurred in the school. Barbara had to do that, but I did tell about volunteering to go to the school office wearing the wire that could record the conversation.

We listened to the tape in the school office and I swore that it was an honest and complete record of what had transpired. I answered several questions from the ADA and several more from some jurors. Then I repeated with the same set of questions about my visit to Monsignor Moran. I was about to step down when one elderly woman asked why I had married Barbara. “First of all, I love her very much and have almost from the moment we met. She’s an incredible person. Secondly, I felt that I had to protect her. Her foster parents are very caring people, but they are blind to any wrongs that may be committed by the leaders of their church. They still have difficulty believing that Barbara was whipped by this nun even after viewing the photographs you have seen this morning. They would have forced her to return to that school where she might have been further tortured. Would you have allowed someone you loved to endure that kind of treatment? I knew that I wouldn’t and couldn’t.” I was excused from the stand, but was not required to leave the room. Instead, I stood just inside the door where I hugged Barbara as soon as she stepped in. I could see that she was frightened and that nothing I could do would calm her.

She had just taken the oath when the jury forewoman spoke. “I can see that you’re nervous. You have nothing to fear, my dear. We are here to help you, not hurt you. Just tell us what happened to you. Tell us everything. Will you, please?” Barbara seemed more relaxed when she sat and I reached out to take her hand. Barbara responded now to the questions from Mrs. Kozlowski, slowly rebuilding the events of that fateful Monday. She seemed to gather herself as she spoke. I could feel her strength in her hand grow as she progressed from the theft of her ring to the horrendous beating she had received at the hands of the nun who should have been her caring teacher. She told how she drove frantically to my parents’ house, how my mother had phoned the school and how I had responded immediately. She described her experience in the emergency room and how I had cared for her afterwards.

Barbara was excused after she had testified for an hour. ADA Kozlowski thanked us for our time and testimony. “I have no doubt that there will be indictments against all three of these monsters. I know these people. Half of them are Catholic and they hate the thought that their priests and nuns would behave in such a despicable and unchristian way. I’ll be in touch with you by Friday, Lieutenant. I think you can plan to act within the next week.” She thanked us again and Lt. Flanagan led us back to his car.

“I’ll take you out to lunch then I think you should go home and rest. You’ve been through a meat grinder, Barbara. You’re a very brave young woman.” I gave him our new phone number, the one we’d had installed in Mrs. Mazzone’s home even though she had tried to convince us to use hers as our own. I drove Barbara back to what was for now our home and put her to bed, lying with her until she was asleep then I rose and went downstairs to speak with Mrs. Mazzone.

“It must have been very difficult for her.”

“It was. She’s much braver than I could ever be. To relive those horrible moments over and over; I think she can feel the lashes of that whip even worse than she did that infamous day. I can’t wait for this horrible episode to be behind us. That’s one of the reasons why I want us to move to Massachusetts. She needs to be busy, studying as well as building our life together. She needs more work than high school can provide.”

“She needs time more than anything else. I thought I would die when my dear Louis passed away. Now, almost three years later I know that I still love him, but we were not meant to grow old together. I still miss him, especially at night when I am alone, but it gets easier every day. The same will happen with Barbara. Just be sure to be there always for her.”

“You need never worry about that.”

The next three months passed swiftly, but not without a number of spectacular highlights. Barbara made her way into the yearbook; just barely when I phoned Carolyn who was the editor the afternoon after her beating. There was an April 1 deadline unless we were willing to pay a penalty. I phoned a local photographer and made arrangements for her to be photographed and for the photos to be rushed to Carolyn’s home. I trusted her to pick the best, although they were all excellent. I also knew that Carolyn would write something appropriate, in consideration of her late enrollment. She did exactly that, noting that Barbara’s most outstanding senior moment was, “Kissing my husband Jack after winning the state basketball championship.” Funny; that was my most outstanding moment, too.

It was only six days after our appearance before the grand jury that Lt. Flanagan and a squad of police appeared at St. Claudia’s School. There were arrests; Sister Mary Theresa in the main office and Sister Mary Patrick removed kicking and fighting from her classroom immediately; and two others after the records so vainly kept by a series of self-serving principals had been examined. Also found was a small treasure of purloined jewelry in the desk and dresser of Sister Mary Patrick as well as the three other nuns; baubles stolen over the decades from innocent and unsuspecting students and their families. Barbara’s ring was in Sister Mary Patrick’s desk. The blood-soaked whip was easily found on a hook in her closet.

Lt. Flanagan then took a small group of officers to the archdiocese offices to arrest Msgr. Moran. The list of charges went on for four pages, rivaling only those of the two nuns. Not surprisingly, the Cardinal denied any knowledge of the allegations. Barbara and I watched almost everything on the six o’clock news that evening, declining an invitation from the District Attorney to witness the arrests.

As I had anticipated, Stanley Silverman instituted a class action lawsuit on behalf of the three hundred and seventy-six victims, some of whom were old enough to be grandparents now, using the list to identify and locate them. The suit claimed compensatory damages of more than eight hundred million dollars and unspecified punitive damages. He held a major press conference on the steps of the State Courthouse in which he fervently expressed his ire at the actions of the so-called professionals parents had entrusted with their daughters. He wanted Barbara and me there, but we politely declined. We’d done enough.

I had always gone fishing over the Memorial Day weekend so when I asked if I could use the bungalow my parents agreed immediately. We were at dinner two Sundays prior and Carole actually begged to join us. “I think that Jack and Barbara would enjoy some time alone,” Mom told her. But Barbara and I had anticipated her request and agreed if we could get Carole out of school a bit early on Friday afternoon. Thus, Barbara drove from school to my parents’ home on Thursday to get Carole’s clothes for the weekend then she drove into Tuckahoe to get me after our game.
Unfortunately, we weren’t going to the playoffs. I’d had a good year on the mound, pitching my way to a 4-1 record and a 2.05 ERA while batting for a .420 average on exactly 21 for 50. Our other two pitchers, however, had losing records and of my teammates, only Tony had a decent batting average. Even Eli who had made All-County with me last year had been mired in a season-long slump, barely batting .200.

We left the high school at 2:00 and picked Carole up only five minutes later. She was elated to be with us and we always enjoyed being with her, too. We reached the bungalow by four, stopping in nearby Rocky Point to pick up some hooks and sinkers as well as a dozen sand worms, the preferred bait for blackfish in the spring. Blacks live in rocky areas so the north shore of Long Island is almost ideal with the millions of rocks large and small pushed down from New England by the ancient glaciers.

The first thing I did was strip the monofilament from my spinning reel and re-spool with new twenty-pound test mono. When that was done I took my two girls out for a quick dinner; pizza. Mom knew that we were now practicing Lutherans so meat on Friday was not only acceptable, it was the norm. We had a special dispensation as a result. Carole liked pepperoni while I liked sausage. Barbara, ever the diplomat, would accept both so we ordered a large half and half and a couple of Cokes. Getting to the restaurant early meant we could eat quickly and get back to try fishing while there was still daylight.

I made my first cast and stood still, my long rod resting on my thigh. Barbara and Carole amused themselves by playing tag. Somehow Carole was always able to catch Barbara, but Barbara had the utmost difficulty catching her eight year-old sister-in-law. They were laughing like crazy when I had my first bite. This kind of fishing takes patience. The first tug occurs when the fish mouths the bait. Strike then and you’ll catch nothing. You’re only pulling the hook out of the fish’s mouth. I’ve done this for years so I was ready for the second powerful tug. A strong pull on the rod set the hook. I always file the point so it’s razor sharp. Blackfish have thick fleshy lips so a sharp hook is a real advantage. I pulled it easily to the shore, knowing as I did that I would release it. Sure enough it was a lightweight. It was only out of the water for seconds before it swam away.

The fishing was great for the next hour as I caught and kept two fish over five pounds; a gift for Mrs. Mazzone. I cleaned them at the water’s edge, removing the head and the entrails then turning the knife over and scraping it against the scales to remove them. Finally, I used an old set of kitchen shears to remove the fins. I washed my hands and my tools and we were ready to hike up the path. I’d never found walking up the path at night to be terribly difficult because there was usually ambient light from the moon and stars. It was really dark once we were under the trees, but the path was surprisingly easy to see because of the contrast between the white sand and the dark green plants that appeared black at night. Barbara got Carole ready for bed while I washed the fish, dried them with a clean rag then wrapped them in aluminum foil for the refrigerator.

We hugged and kissed Carole as we tucked her in and then she asked the big question, “Barbara, where are you and J.J. going to sleep?”

“Right over here in Jack’s bed.”

“Both of you? In that little bed?”

“Yup! And there will still be room for you in the morning. Okay?”

Apparently it was because Carole smiled, hugged Barbara and me one last time and rolled over to sleep. Barbara and I retreated to the living room where we sat quietly reading some of my parents’ extensive library of paperbacks. Only when we were sure that she was soundly asleep did we shower and make love, with Barbara seated securely on the kitchen counter, me standing between her legs. Barbara had taken a small towel from the linen closet to stifle her usual orgasmic scream. We retired as we did every night with Barbara’s head on my chest and her leg over my thigh. There was one huge difference though; we were wearing t-shirts and gym shorts because of Carole’s presence.

We fished again on Saturday, this time with my friends, but at night we took Carole to the drive-in movie in nearby Rocky Point. She played in the playground before the movie and enjoyed the cartoons, but lay down on the rear seat under a small blanket once they had ended.

We took Carole with us to the Lutheran church with Mom’s blessing then fished all Sunday afternoon. Blackfish are funny. Sometimes you can fish all day and catch nothing, not even getting a single bite. Other times you can’t reel the fish in fast enough. The afternoon was a washout, but after dinner it was hotter than I’d ever seen. I must have caught twenty fish and my buddies caught even more. Mrs. Mazzone was delighted with the fish we brought home to her, treating Barbara, Carole, and me to dinner the following evening.

And then, of course, was the wedding. Setting up the actual ceremony was a breeze, but the catering hall? Yeah; good luck with that. Everything that was worth anything had been booked six months or more in advance. So it was that we met with my parents after Sunday dinner in early April. “I can only see two alternatives, Jack,” my dad explained. “Either we put up a big tent on the side lawn here at home or you book the fire department.”

“Of course,” I said as I began to explain to Barbara. “The upstairs at the fire department has a big open room with a commercial kitchen and they’ve held dozens of catered affairs there.” Dad told us that he would make the booking then all we’d have to do was contract with a catering firm. I was on the phone less than five minutes later, striking gold with the first call to Keens Steakhouse in Manhattan.

Barbara and I handled the invitations and in addition to saying yes or no we asked each guest what they wanted to eat; grilled ten-ounce prime filet or steamed two-pound lobster. Then we had to deal with the florists and dresses for Barbara, Carole, and two of her closest friends; Marlene and Carolyn. Thank God all the guys had to do was rent a few tuxes; that was the easiest part of the planning. That we scheduled for Friday afternoon and evening the week before graduation was just about perfect.

Mom, Aunt Debbie, and three of our neighbors managed all of the set-up that morning while Barbara and I were in school taking final exams. Afternoon beauty salon appointments for the women and haircuts, shaves, and manicures for the guys gave us just forty-five minutes to dress and get to the church while Barbara and the other women piled into the limos.

I had given Barbara her own credit cards just in time to pay for the dresses and lunch in Manhattan. All told Barbara spent three days selecting and fitting although I suspected she was more interested in eating out in the city than the actual shopping.

The day of the wedding was perfect; sunny with temperatures in the low eighties as Eli and I stood near the altar of the Lutheran church with Pastor Moody. The hundred guests were all seated when the organist began the wedding march. Eli patted me on the back as the ushers and bridesmaids made their way up the aisle. Finally, I saw Mr. Gleason and Barbara begin their slow way forward. She had refused to say a word about her dress and now I understood why. It was elegant; form-fitting in an oriental fashion with a long slit running up the left side. The dress itself I learned later was sleeveless with a long-sleeved bolero jacket that ended at her waist.

She joined me with a squeeze of my hand and a quick kiss. Unlike the Catholic Church where we would have endured an entire Mass, the ceremony was short and to the point, essentially the reading of a few bible passages, the exchange of vows, and a few words of advice before ending with a big kiss. We did exchange rings as we had in the Eastchester Town Hall, but this time I surprised Barbara by placing her engagement ring onto her finger once her wedding ring was in place.

I had asked Lt. Flanagan about it almost a month ago and he told me it could be released. “There are so many charges here that nobody will miss this one.” He had delivered the ring to the High School office almost a week before the ceremony where Mrs. Cecil held it for me until Friday afternoon just before we left school. That was the only way I could keep the secret.

Eli had just given me Barbara’s ring and I had placed it onto her finger when I pulled the solitaire from my pocket. The expression on Barbara’s face was priceless as I slid the second ring up her finger; almost as priceless as the kiss she gave me a second later. Pastor Moody had to interrupt the ceremony to explain to the guests before Barbara returned my ring to my finger and we had the official end of ceremony kiss.

We had color-coded nametags on the tables; blue for lobster, red for beef; as well as an open bar even though most of the guests would be drinking Coke or Seven-Up. Barbara and I did share a private toast in which I swore to love her until the end of time and she promised to love me even longer.

The reception began with a cocktail hour which for our classmates was just an opportunity to pig out on boiled shrimp and hot and cold hors d’oeuvres. I knew that I overate, but next to Eli I had eaten almost nothing. After the cocktail hour we did all the silly traditional things; the best man’s toast, the first dance, Barbara’s dance with her “father,” Mr. Gleason and my dance with my mother. I did dance with Mrs. Gleason and with Mrs. Mazzone and, of course, with my favorite aunt. But every other dance went to my gorgeous wife.

Everyone had a wonderful time, but there was almost a nasty incident thanks to my bigoted asshole uncle. Eli had asked Carole to dance and he had lifted her bodily, holding her with his forearm under her legs. Eli was smiling and Carole was laughing, but Uncle Arthur was red-faced and livid that a Negro would handle his niece in such a fashion. Apparently, he had forgotten that Carole’s parents were seated less than ten feet away and were laughing along with Carole.

I excused myself quickly and intercepted my irate relative before he was half-way across the dance floor. “Let it go, Uncle; it’s none of your business. Eli is my best friend and Carole knows him well. What you see as taking liberties is nothing more than being friendly.”

“But, he’s a; .” He shut up then because I had my hand over his neck and I was sure he was in a lot of pain.
“Feel free to leave if your racist ideals have been offended. I’m sure you won’t be missed. I’m also sure that Eli could crush you with only one hand since his other is occupied with Carole. Oops, too late; the song is over. Incidentally, if you think you’re going to ruin the party for Barbara you’re delusional. I’ll crush you first. Keep that in mind as you return to your table or just leave; your choice.” I released him then, shoving him back to his table. He turned once, rubbing his neck with his hands as he trudged away. The party broke up at midnight with most of my relatives returning to my parents’ place. Barbara and I got into the limo for a short drive to The Plaza in Manhattan.

We spent our wedding night making the most incredible love all night before ordering room service for a late breakfast. We spent a good part of Saturday at the Bronx Zoo before returning around five for an early dinner and a trip to Broadway to see “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.” We stayed overnight at The Plaza before taking the limo back to Mrs. Mazzone’s in the late afternoon. We brought in sandwiches from the deli, eating while studying the rest of the evening.

We had studied for weeks to prepare for final exams and the State Regents’ exams. Barbara had Chemistry and Advanced Algebra while I had French Three even though I had never attended even a single class of French. I had learned years ago that state law permitted a student to take any Regents Exam even without taking the course. I had met with the French teacher several times to learn pronunciation and some idioms, but; other than that; I had learned everything on my own, buying the textbooks and some books on French culture at a major bookstore in Manhattan. I had spent at least an hour a day over junior and senior years and it paid off with a grade of 98 on the exam. I laughed; it was my lowest score on the dozen or so state exams I had taken, not that I cared at all.

I had taken the SAT four times; once in each grade, receiving the same score each time; 1590 out of 1600. As a freshman I missed one question in the English section. The next year it was in math then I repeated the sequence again just to prove I could do it. I knew that I would receive a lot of notoriety by scoring 1600, but I had received so much already that I felt I didn’t need any more. Had that hurt me? Not at all; every college interviewer had asked about it and every one had laughed at my answer. I was also accepted at every school where I had applied.

We had most of the week before graduation off from school which proved fortunate. I had bought a lot near my parents’ bungalow; just down the road and on the opposite side of the street; a lot on the bluff with a beautiful panoramic view of Long Island Sound and Connecticut roughly twenty miles away. I considered it a bargain at $18,000. The closing was the Saturday before exams. We also closed on our new house in Somerville, flying into Boston in the morning and flying back at night.

Barbara and I had spent every Friday and Saturday night during those months at Yonkers Raceway, winning more than three million dollars betting obscene sums on what amounted to sure things. I requested and received a security guard virtually every night until I learned that I could have the money wired directly into my account. Of course, our successes raised all kinds of questions, but the racing authorities could find nothing illegal in what we were doing. In fact, they used our winning as part of an advertising campaign for which we were handsomely paid.

We practiced for graduation on Friday morning, finding our places and marching slowly into the auditorium to Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance, courtesy of the high school orchestra. As valedictorian I was first while Barbara was number13 alphabetically. That placed her at the opposite end of the first row.

The mood was solemn Friday night when I led the class in, following only the superintendent and principal. I knew they would have short speeches before introducing me then Jimmy Piersall for our speeches. I was bored stiff listening to Mr. Wickers telling everyone all about my accomplishments; academic and athletic. His introduction was longer than my speech by several minutes. I knew he’d do this, or at least a much shorter version, for every student in what I had always thought of as a feeble attempt to show the entire community how close he was to the students. I knew otherwise; he got all of his information from Mrs. Costello.

I’d been in her office last June and I had seen her memo on the desk. It listed every student and his/her post high school plans; a list of college acceptances, or work plans, or enlistment in the armed forces and it was in large capitals that would make it easy for our principal to read. He continued for ten minutes before finally making his introduction.

I had stepped to the podium to the expected applause and was just about to begin when Tony rose from his seat about halfway down the first row and placed a Campbell soup can on the floor where all could see it. I looked that way and as I did I heard a low rumbling from my classmates;  “Freak. Freak. Freak. Freak; .”

“No way; I’m giving my speech.” Then I looked past Tony to see Barbara and I could see her pleading with me. I left the podium, no doubt to the confusion of almost everyone in the audience. Stopping when I reached Barbara, I asked, “You, too?”

“Let’s face it, Jack; graduations are boring. Here’s your chance to make this one unforgettable. Please?” I removed my cap and leaned in for a quick kiss. My classmates had resumed their chant before I even had a chance to replace the cap onto my head.

“Okay, folks; it looks like I spent weeks on my speech for nothing. There is only one person who could convince me to do this. That person is my wife, Barbara; the only woman I kiss other than my mom, sisters, aunt, and grandmothers. I’m doing this for her and when I do you’re all going to have a ton of questions. Everyone on the stage and most of the other students and teachers know about this. I know that Mr. Wickers knows. I’m not so sure about Mr. Whiteman, but here goes. Watch carefully.”

I leaned over the podium, extending my hand. Less than ten seconds later it held the soup can to the amazement and exclamations of the audience. I waited for quiet then I read the label. “Tomato; that figures; I hate tomato.” And then I told an abridged story of my life. I told about being struck and learning how to fix my body. I told them that my IQ had jumped more than 70 points. “That only means that I have a high ability to learn. It doesn’t mean that I will. I’ll bet that I work harder than anyone else in the class.” Then I told them how I structured my body to be an athlete. “But, just having ability is meaningless if you don’t work hard. Every one of my teammates will tell you that I work harder in practice than anyone else. When Coach Darling tells us to do fifteen pushups I do thirty. Instead of fifty sit-ups I do eighty. I do more and faster on everything except squat-thrusts and that’s only because I jump higher and each one takes longer.

“Now I’ll tell you something that none of my classmates know. I sometimes get what amount to coming attractions in which I can see small snippets of the future. I know it sounds incredible, but that lightning bolt really did a number on my brain. That’s how I first met Barbara, my wife. We were in church and I had just given her my seat when I saw her future; slipping and falling on the icy sidewalk outside, striking her head on the concrete and bleeding out before an ambulance could reach her. Instead, I caught her and we began our relationship. When people our age get married in a hurry everyone always thinks the worst. That was true in our case, but it’s not the worst you think it was. It was another worst entirely. We; Barbara much more than I; have been intimately involved in the scandal at St. Claudia’s School in Yonkers. She went through the worst torture I could ever imagine, suffering incredible pain in her back for almost two weeks. I married Barbara so she wouldn’t have to return to that school. Of course, it helped immensely that I was in love with her and that I’d had about three hundred of those coming attractions of our future life together.

“So, there you have it; the story of my life. I should have died that day in Florida. Instead I’ve been blessed intellectually and athletically, but mostly I’ve been blessed with a strong work ethic. Without that desire to succeed everything else would be wasted.” I stepped back from the podium and returned to my seat, but not before holding the soup can out and returning it to Tony the same way I had retrieved it. My classmates erupted in applause and cheering. It was the first time they’d seen that little trick because it was also the first time I’d ever tried it.

The rest of the ceremony was predictable; and boring, exactly as Barbara had predicted. After receiving my diploma I walked around the rear of the risers as we had rehearsed to find myself standing next to my bride. She removed my cap and pulled me down for a brief kiss, one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by my family and especially by my littlest sister who cheered mightily just as she did when Barbara and Eli received their diplomas.

Once the program was over we walked down the steps from the stage to the auditorium and out into the hallway where we returned our caps and gowns and where we congratulated each other with hugs and handshakes. Of course, I received a long congratulatory kiss from my beautiful wife.

We went to the party held by our class president, but only for an hour then we visited with my folks and my aunt and uncle before returning to Mrs. Mazzone’s for our last night. I had already packed up a lot of our stuff into the Jeep and the Olds’ trunk. We had some clothes and toiletries and a couple of bags of food plus the sheets and blankets. The phone had been disconnected. We had showered and were in bed and now we were each ready to receive our mutual reward.

“I never knew you could make things go away from your hand, Jack,” she whispered.

“To tell the whole truth, neither did I. That was the first time I even tried it. If that hadn’t worked I was just going to walk over to Tony and hand it back to him. I guess you were right, though; it was an unforgettable graduation. How Wickers allowed it to happen I’ll never understand.”

Barbara leaned over to kiss me. “I have a small confession to make. Tony, Richie, Marlene and I went to see him last week. It was a struggle, but in time we were able to convince him to coerce you to show off your skills. We spoke to the entire class Monday when you were called to the office to review your speech. I’m sorry I deceived you. I’ll never do it again. I promise.”

“Too bad we’re not practicing Catholics now. I could make you do penance.”

“I’ll do penance for you any day. How’s this for a beginning?”

With that she slipped between my legs. I was hard before her sweet lips had wrapped themselves around my cock’s head. She teased me at first, working my shaft with her tongue then slowly taking me deeply into her mouth, stopping only when her lips touched my pubic hair. The sensation was heavenly, but it wasn’t what I wanted now. I waited until Barbara had allowed my cock to escape her hot mouth then I pulled her up and into a long seriously hot kiss. I could taste my cock on her tongue, but that didn’t stop me from showing my love for my bride.

We were mid-kiss when I lifted her bodily, positioning her oozing cunt over my throbbing organ. I missed her on the first try, but managed to stab her on the second. I could tell that I had struck deep from her loud moan that died in my mouth. We began a rhythm, one we knew from lots and lots of experience would bring us to the deepest, most satisfying orgasms. On and on we moved, me driving deeply into Barbara, her pressing her swollen button into my muscles with incredible strength and energy.

It was a good ten minutes before I felt the rumbling in my core and the tiny tremors emanate from her cunt. This was our cue to ramp up our actions. In seconds we were pounding each other mercilessly until; the peace before the storm; the day of calm before the hurricane. And then it was here. I wrapped Barbara in my arms as we thrashed wildly over the bed, turning almost one hundred and eighty degrees before it finally subsided. We lay there a hot and sweaty mess, my gooey semen running freely from Barbara’s canal now that my cock had shrunken and slipped out.

“That was incredible, Jack. I think it was my best orgasm ever. I’m so glad I’m on the pill now. Feeling your flesh inside me is fantastic, but the experience of you cumming inside me it just the best. I can feel the heat as it splashes against my cervix.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” I said, deadpanning against her enthusiasm. She sat up, a scowl on her face, until she broke out laughing. A second later I joined her then we tried to straighten the bed and went to sleep in our usual position; Barbara’s head on my chest, her oozing cunt riding my thigh.

We woke early Saturday morning as usual and were into the shower in only a few seconds. I shaved while Barbara dressed then I dressed and we set about stripping the bed and loading the remainder of our meager possessions into the cars. Then we set about cleaning the rooms and bathroom. Mrs. Mazzone had told us not to bother, but we couldn’t in good conscience leave a mess for her. Once we were done we left an envelope on our night stand and walked down to return her keys and extend our thanks. Her house had been the perfect place for us and she had proven herself to be just about the perfect landlady.

With a final hug and kiss we bade good-bye, promising to stop by whenever we were in the area again. We never mentioned the envelope. Had we, she would certainly have refused. Inside was our parting gift to her, a $100 gift certificate to her favorite restaurant. It was too expensive for her to go often. We thought at the time that she could get at least five good dinners at our expense.

Our drive was a short one; all the way to my parents’ home in Chester Heights. Rather than drive immediately to Somerville we wanted to spend the day with my family. All my sisters could talk about was the wedding and the reception. Only my mother had seen the altercation with my Uncle Arthur, my mother’s brother-in-law. “What was that all about, Jack?”

“He took offense at Eli dancing with Carole. I wanted to head him off before he caused a real scene.”

“What an idiot; didn’t he see that your dad and I were right there?”

“I knew he was a bigot from some of the remarks Richard has made, but that was totally out of line. There was no way I was going to allow that. I have to admit that I told him he could either go home or return to his seat, but if he tried to do anything to Eli he was going to be in a world of hurt.”

“Who are you talking about, J.J.? I had such a good time dancing with Eli. He picked me up that same way you do.”

“I know that, Pumpkin. I saw you were having fun, but someone objected because Eli is a Negro.”

“Why would that matter, J.J.?”

“I don’t know, honey, but some people are just stupid.”

“They must be; Eli is so nice.” I stopped the conversation by scooping Carole into my arms and pretend dancing with her, twirling around the living room while my family sat and laughed.

We left after lunch for a short visit with Mr. and Mrs. Gleason. They also talked at length about the wedding and reception. They went on and on about the food; they’d had the prime filets and claimed that they were the best they’d ever eaten. “Did you like yours, Barbara?”

“I don’t know if you saw us, but we had the lobster. Jack took me out for a lobster dinner in Boston and I loved it. I still need Jack to help me take it apart, but I agree; the food was great. So was the band; we had a ball.”

We stayed for an hour and left with hugs and kisses, returning to my family by four. We relaxed for the rest of the afternoon before having pot roast and roasted potatoes for dinner. I loved pot roast. It was one of my all-time favorites. I thanked Mom several times. Barbara and I turned in early knowing that we would have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Dad made us a great breakfast of french toast and bacon. Barbara and I carried our toiletries and dirty clothes out to the cars and then we said our good-byes to my family. It was longer and more emotional than I could have imagined. Poor Carole cried until I promised her that she could come for a visit before school began. Of course, Mom reminded us to drive carefully, something she had told me probably a thousand times since I had learned to drive.

We waved as we pulled away, me in the Jeep and Barbara in the Olds. We had agreed that I would lead because I knew the way and we had also agreed to stop hourly, if possible. I knew that Barbara was a safe driver but she had never driven this far in a single day. From Chester Heights to Cambridge should take us four hours at roughly fifty miles per hour. That’s how long we took when we had driven up at Easter even though we had split the trip into two halves.

We made our first stop just outside Trumbull, Connecticut. Barbara was holding up well so far, but I knew too well how easily one could become physically drained from driving. We used the restroom and washed our faces then we grabbed some sodas from a machine and sat out in the sunlight to drink them. I told Barbara then that I planned to stop again once we had passed Hartford. That was pretty much what we did. Our next stop was in Sturbridge, Massachusetts, only an hour from Cambridge. We ate lunch and stopped at a custom candy shop that my parents and I loved.

Once we had left there I drove to a nearby park where we stopped in the shade. I locked the Jeep and went to sit in the Olds’ passenger seat. I bade Barbara to lie across the seat for a short nap. I had noticed immediately that her energy level was dangerously low when we had stopped. A half-hour nap would help her tremendously. She must have agreed because her head was on my thigh only seconds before she was sound asleep. I closed my eyes and joined her seconds later.

Barbara stirred forty minutes later, about five minutes after I did. I could tell immediately that she was better. “Wow, Jack; I never take a nap.”

“It’s the driving. It has a hypnotic effect on most people and that can make you really tired really fast. We’re not on a deadline so better safe than sorry.”

She sat up and kissed me, just a quick one. “I’m saving the really good ones for later,” she said with a smile. “Thanks for taking care of me. It seems you do that a lot.”

“That’s my job.” I kissed her then opened the door and walked quickly to my Jeep. We pulled into the motel less than fifty minutes later. Barbara phoned my parents collect while I checked in. We emptied everything that was on the seats in both cars, being sure to lock them. I thought that our clothes, radios, and phonograph would be safe out of sight in the locked trunk. We parked right in front of the room under a bright street lamp.

We watched TV for a while until Barbara got bored, turned it and the lights off and rushed into my arms. We kissed and groped each other long enough to flood our faces with spit. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of this?”

“You mean kissing, or sex?”

“Take your choice.”

“No way in hell; not if I have any say in it.”

“Good answer; I know I’ll want to do it on my death bed which I hope will be a very long time from now.” I knew it would be, but I said nothing. Instead, I moved between Barbara’s smooth shapely legs. She smiled as she told me, “Good choice; I want to wrap my legs around you and pull you into me.” And that’s exactly what she did until she surprised me by moving her legs onto my shoulders. I had driven into her only five or six times before I noticed a huge change in her reactions. I had no idea what was different, but Barbara’s actions were much more energetic, determined, and passionate. She came then and continued humping like there was no tomorrow; cumming two more times before my eruptions called an end to our love making; for now, anyway.

After breakfast we drove to the realtor’s office to meet with Mrs. Kline. She had been an incredible resource for us. We wanted to make a number of alterations to the house and she had come up with a list of reputable contractors for us. Additionally, she had arranged to have all of the old carpets pulled up and removed leaving only the bare hardwood floors. Renovating them would be our first inside priority. Repaving the driveway and a fence for the back yard would be next. We met with three flooring contractors that morning, selecting one not because of the lowest price; he was second low; but because he could start immediately and would be done by Saturday. We met with a paving contractor Mrs. Kline had highly recommended in the afternoon.

Our driveway was the old kind with two strips of concrete and a median of grass between. Worse were all the cracks and tilted slabs. I knew from experience how hard it would be to shovel snow on such a driveway and the cracked areas would always be icy in the winter. That was what my parents had for years before renovating just two years ago. The contractor recommended stripping out the entire driveway and starting over from scratch. That was exactly what my dad had suggested. “If you don’t there will be lots of uneven surfaces. There are plenty of cracks in the existing concrete and they’re only going to get worse. When I get done you’ll have a solid mass of seamless asphalt.” I agreed, but did haggle a bit on the price as Mrs. Kline had suggested. I was able to save us more than $500. He would start on Wednesday with removal, digging, and installing the new base and be finished by Thursday.

It had been a long and productive day, but we weren’t done yet. We were able to stroll through three furniture stores; just looking and taking notes on a bedroom set, living and dining room furniture, desks and chairs for our study center. We made some decisions over dinner, partially on what might be available for delivery next week. We returned to the motel after dinner for a much needed shower and even more needed scorching sex. I was completely drained by the time Barbara had finished with me. No wonder I always slept so well.

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned from my dad’s business it’s that there are always delays. I wasn’t surprised that what we hoped would be done in a week actually took almost two to complete. Twice we had to delay furniture deliveries, but, by the second week in July we were actually able to sleep in our newly renovated home. Our driveway was ready to use and we’d added a space for me to park the jeep alongside the garage. The rear yard had been fenced and our furniture was delivered and installed. There were other things we wanted to do, but they could wait. New appliances in the kitchen and new paint on the ceilings, walls, and trim were the biggest items.

We loved the new refinished floors with their almost-white maple finish, but we also wanted area rugs for color and quiet. Finding what we wanted turned out to be a breeze. Installing them was not so easy, but we managed to get it done with the help of a few neighbors.

At first they were hesitant at the idea of having two teenagers living in their midst. However, a major thaw occurred at an afternoon party one neighbor had, supposedly to welcome us, but in reality to check us out. There was a keg and everyone helped themselves to plenty of beer; everyone except Barbara and me. When asked we simply explained that we weren’t drinkers. We were serious students and I was a serious athlete. We weren’t into parties although we might invite a few friends to visit; but only a few.

Of course, we were asked why we were married at such a young age so I asked if they had ever heard about St. Claudia’s School in Yonkers. Apparently, they had because the conversation went from a dull roar to dead quiet in a second. One neighbor commented that he never did believe those allegations and he continued his comments until I excused myself so I could walk home, returning a few minutes later with the photos of Barbara’s back. “Take a good look and tell me how this happened. These marks weren’t self-inflicted. Barbara lived through this hell and I worked with the police to get them to admit their roles in the actual whipping and the cover-up conspiracy. They couldn’t wait to brag about how they had beaten girls just to keep the others under control. And then there was the theft of girls’ jewelry like Barbara’s engagement ring that cost me more than $2500.”

Then one of the women opened the envelope and when she looked at the first photo she fell to her knees, throwing up all of the beer she had consumed. Everyone stood stock still, shocked by what had happened, except me. I took three quick steps to help the woman who I barely knew to her feet, wiping her face with cold water from the ice-filled tub holding the keg. Her husband picked up the photos and returned them to the envelope. “You have to understand; we’re all Catholic. It was hard for us to believe. The priests all said it was a bunch of lies.”

“We do understand. It would have been hard for us to believe, too, except that we lived it. I married Barbara then so she could attend school with me. There was no way in hell that I would allow her to return to school there. Barbara’s an orphan. Her foster parents didn’t believe until they saw the photos either. They would have forced her to go back into that hellhole of a school. Would you want your wife to have to deal with something like that? I don’t think so. You also know why we’re Lutherans now.”

I was ready to leave and I would have had two of the women not asked us to stay. “It’s obvious that we all made a serious error of judgment. We hope you’ll forgive us.” Of course, we did. We stayed at the party and had a good time, but the photo envelope remained closed and the conversation never touched that subject again.

When asked about our new fence I explained that I planned to play both basketball and baseball at Harvard and that meant that I would be away for several nights during the season. I didn’t want Barbara to be here alone. The choices for her protection were either a gun or a dog. The dog won.
That led to a discussion of my athletic abilities. I said nothing about them. I didn’t have to. Barbara was gushing, and the men joined her as soon as she said the words “All-American.”

There are lots of animal shelters in the greater Boston area and we visited several during the following week before finding what we wanted; a female lab mix about a year old. This one had come from a home in which an elderly widow had passed away leaving the dog to be taken into the shelter. Her name was Kelly and she bonded almost immediately with Barbara, licking her hands and wagging her tail wildly. She was already more than forty pounds and she still had a long way to go. We took her to a vet to have her checked out and spayed then she became an integral part of our family.

We had almost everything other than painting done by the third week in July so I mentioned to Barbara that I needed a workout at the Harvard gym. “I need to shoot once in a while to keep my skills sharp. Want to come and rebound for me?” Barbara bared her teeth and flexed her biceps as she agreed. I grabbed my ball and dressed a practice shirt, shorts and jock with a towel, socks and sneakers and head and wrist bands in my gym bag along with a tee, briefs, and shorts in case I could find a shower. We put Kelly out as we always did whenever we left the house and locked up once she was back in. We took the Jeep and fifteen minutes later we were parked and walking to the admissions office. I would have gone directly to the gym if only I had known where to go. Harvard is a big place and it’s spread out in various areas of Cambridge.

We spoke to Mrs. Atkins who told us to go to the Stadium to see the Athletic Director. She produced another map and circled the location. It wasn’t far so ten minutes later we walked into the office. I saw the secretary so Barbara and I walked up to the desk. “Hi, I’m Jack French.”

“Who?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You know I could have gone to Notre Dame or Stanford and I kind of suspect they’d know who I am, but I guess not at Harvard.”

Just then a silver-haired man who looked fit in spite of his age walked out from the inner office. “You’re Jack French? Great to meet you; ignore Irene, she’s a great secretary, but she doesn’t know much about sports.” That’s how I met the Athletic Director. I introduced him to Barbara then he led us into his office.

I explained why we were here, asking about getting my ankles taped, too. He volunteered to show us where to go, saying that there were trainers working in the stadium now because some of the football players were working out on the field during the summer. He also suggested that I use the Hemenway Gym if I wanted to work out. It was only a few minutes before he had walked us into the trainers’ room adjacent to the men’s locker room. I wasn’t surprised to see two trainers working there; one male and one female. He introduced me and told them to tape me or provide whatever services I needed whenever I asked. After shaking hands he was gone and I climbed onto a padded table. They taped me exactly the way I wanted, and much tighter than I could do on my own. Megan, the female trainer showed us a shorter way to the parking lot and I followed the directions to the gym on what the locals called “Mass Ave.”

There were four guys playing two-on-two at one end of the court so I led Barbara to the opposite end. I did some stretching exercises to loosen up then I started with some layups and short shots, rebounding any misses or just tipping them in. After almost ten minutes I started to shoot from farther out with Barbara catching the balls that went through the net and passing them out to me.

I had really warmed up, hitting twelve in a row when I heard one of the guys say that he had to go to work. I was asked if I’d fill in and agreed, meeting my soon-to-be teammate Ryan and opponents Phil and Mike. We started play and I had a problem almost immediately with Phil. I had taken a jump shot and as I did he jabbed me in the stomach. He didn’t hurt me, but I’ve seen guys lose their balance from such tactics, injuring an ankle or a knee or even their back by falling. I made the shot so I told him, “Don’t do that again.”

“Oh yeah; what are you going to do about it?” I let it slide then, but he did it three more times even though I repeatedly told him not to. In fact, he became more aggressive, bordering on arrogant, almost punching my stomach the last time. I’d had enough.

I set up on the left side low post, signaling my teammate for the ball. Head faking right, I took one dribble followed by a single long stride across the lane, the ball secure in my huge hand. Rather than take the hook shot I moved the ball along in a graceful arc, my right hand moving rapidly across the lane as I pivoted and brought the ball up even with the height of the basket. I’d made this move and taken this shot hundreds of times so I knew there was no way to block it, but that didn’t stop Phil from jabbing me once again. This time I was ready and as I finished the pivot I brought my left elbow forcefully into his solar plexus. He grunted, totally out of breath, as he fell back hard on his ass. I leaned down, whispering as I did, “I guess you now know what I’ll do about it, don’t you?” I thanked the others for the game and walked off the court to Barbara.

“What was that all about, Jack?”

“He was jabbing me in the gut every time I shot the ball and he refused to stop. I’ve seen guys get hurt from that. They lose their balance and fall. It’s a dangerous play; dirty, too. He asked what I’d do about it.”

“I think he knows now, doesn’t he?”

I kissed Barbara as we stepped outside. “Yes,” I said. “I think he does.”

I returned to the training room again two days later and I wasn’t at all surprised when the AD strode in while I was being taped. “One question, Jack; are you a dirty player?”

“If I had to guess I’d say you were speaking with Phil about his badly bruised chest.”

“Indeed I was. He’s a starting forward on our varsity.”

“Then he should know better than to jab an opponent’s abdomen when he takes a shot. Not only is that a foul, but it’s a great way to really hurt someone. I’m not a dirty player, Sir, but I also won’t allow myself to be abused. He jabbed me four times and four times I told him not to do it again. His response was, ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Now he knows, except the next time I won’t allow him to do it four times before I retaliate. By the way, I doubt he would have made my high school varsity; definitely not as a starter. I hope the rest of the team is better.”

“Not surprisingly he left his part out of it. I told him I’d speak with you and I have. I promise you I’ll speak with him, too.” I shrugged my shoulders. I really didn’t care. Barbara and I had the gym to ourselves and I spent a good hour dribbling and shooting with both hands. I finished by doing some line drills. Most players hate line drills, but they’re a great way to get into shape for the season. I also resolved to do some serious running before school started.

I had never realized how much we would need when we bought the house. Besides furniture we needed sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, dishes, glasses, pots and pans, ice trays; just to name a few. It seemed that we went shopping almost every day that first month. But that stopped the last week in July. I had promised Carole that she could come for a visit and that time was now.

My mother had driven Carole, now all of nine, to the Islip MacArthur Airport for a flight to Boston’s Logan Field. We were waiting at the gate when the plane began to empty. After talking to the gate staff I knew that she would be among the last to leave the plane and that she would be accompanied by one of the stewardesses. Sure enough, Carole walked up the gangway dragging her suitcase in the company of a beautiful woman and I would have been tempted had I not found Barbara. I showed my passport as a formality even as Carole was hugging Barbara and we left, walking slowly as the Big C told us all about her incredible flight.

“What are we going to do first, J.J.?”

“Well; I think we need to get some lunch and then we’ll take you to our home to meet Kelly.”

“Who’s Kelly?”

“She’s the latest member of our family.”

“Barbara had a baby?”

I couldn’t help myself. I laughed my ass off. “No, Big C; that takes a bit more than a month or two. You’ll see. We want it to be a surprise.” We left the airport a few minutes later and drove all the way to Somerville where we stopped at a sub shop where I ordered one large Italian sub, asking for one of the usual three parts to be cut in half. These were big; really big; subs; almost three feet long with Italian cold cuts and provolone cheese, lettuce and tomato and onion, oil and vinegar, oregano and salt and pepper. They actually tasted even better than they looked. We sat at one of the small tables with sodas and our sandwiches. This was one of the first places we’d found after moving in and it was one of the best, too.

We left with half of Carole’s sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap and drove home. “I think you need to stay here on the lawn,” I told Carole, “and let Kelly come to you.” Kelly bolted from the door with her usual greeting until she saw Carole then she ran up to sniff her. Carole was ecstatic. She had wanted a dog, but Mom had always said no. She held her hand out. There were dogs in our neighborhood so she knew what to do. A minute later she was hugging and petting Kelly like they were old friends

We showed Carole to our guest room with Kelly on our heels then we let Carole go out into the back yard to play with Kelly and her ball. I made her stop an hour later so Kelly could rest and have a healthy drink of water. Then we went inside to relax and watch some TV.

We spent the week of Carole’s visit doing just about everything we could in the Boston area. Carole may have been about to enter fourth grade, but she was a very bright girl who loved to learn. She enjoyed walking the Freedom Trail, checking out the tombstones at the Old North Church. I wasn’t at all surprised that she knew just about every one of the patriots buried there. We went to see the USS Constitution; Old Ironsides; but I stayed on deck while Barbara and Carole went below. Those lower decks weren’t built for someone with my height.

We spent a day checking out several museums in the city along with the Mapparium in the Mary Baker Eddy Library. The Mapparium is a large globe of the earth in 1935 made of stained glass. What is truly unique is that you can walk through the interior of the globe and the acoustics are incredible. I whispered at one end of the walkway and everything I said could be clearly heard at the other end. Carole was amazed. So was Barbara, for that matter. The next day we drove to Plymouth to see the Mayflower recreation and Plymouth Plantation, a recreation of the Pilgrims’ original settlement.

Our final day was spent at Fenway, sitting in the right field bleachers and cheering for the Yankees. We weren’t alone. There seemed to be as many New York fans as there were for Boston. That was the year of the M and M boys; Mantle and Maris; and their chase to beat the Babe’s home run record. Personally, I thought the Mick would do it. He was ahead of Maris with 54 homers when he was injured early in September. Too soon it was time for the Big C to fly home, but we did promise to visit in Long Island over the Labor Day weekend. We had some business to attend to.

My friend Wilson had an older sister who had married a highly regarded contractor. I had spoken to him several times on the phone about building a home for us on our lot on the bluff. He promised to have several house plans for us to look at while we were there.

We drove south on the Tuesday before Labor Day, catching the ferry at Mystic, Connecticut to Orient Point at the very end of the North Shore of Long Island. From there the ride was just about an hour long. Traveling with a dog was a bit different; we stopped once on the road south and again once we were in Orient Point.

Kelly was a big hit on the ferry where she was approached by every kid on board. A few were initially afraid, but warmed up to her once I jammed my arm into her mouth to prove she wouldn’t bite. I always held her tightly by the collar even though I knew the kids were perfectly safe. Once I had driven off the ferry, we stopped by the side of the road so I could take Kelly for a brief walk. I carried a small garden trowel and a brown paper lunch bag, just in case she left a mess.

NEXT: Ever After.

To be continued, by Senor Longo.