Graduation finally came and went very quickly. We had a huge class and all the parents looked so proud. My parents were sitting in the audience they didn't look proud so much as amazed. I had managed to get my diploma.
Callie and Alan's wedding was to be the end of July and that was much more exciting than anything. Ringo and I were planning our wedding. Our wedding was going to be quick and simple. I was not enthusiastic and really neither was he. Oh, well, it was a plan and in the back of my mind I thought once we were married and I got pregnant he'd get over that not wanting to have children.
One morning about 4:00 a.m. the phone rang. I grabbed it immediately, before the second ring even. I was sound asleep and was trying to think of the word "hello" or whatever you said when the phone rang. Mom and dad appeared at my door with a worried look. Mother was asking, "is someone dead?" There was a voice on the phone telling me the this was MARS and Lillybell had a call. WHAT? my brain screamed by mouth still couldn't form words. Finally, I heard Paul in the background, "honey, I am calling you and am patched in through a radio operator. I talk then say 'over'. You talk and then say, 'over'". My mother is still asking, "WHO IS DEAD????"
Paul was in Korea. His older brother Who? was in Viet Nam and by tradition brothers do not serve in the same theater of war. This was a huge relief to me. Paul would not have survived actual war I just knew it. Now he was calling me from half way around the world. This must be important. "I only have 7 minutes to talk, over". "OK", I said....over?" This was weird and might make sense if I could just wake up a little. Mother and dad still standing there. I got up and closed the door. "Honey", said Paul, "I love you, I had to call to say the words...over". Now somewhere in my brain was a big party and music and and that chorus of heavenly angels that seemed to accompany Paul. "I LOVE YOU TOO!!", "over". "Read my letters", he said, "I want to come home to you", "over". "OK", "over". There was some more talk and "overs" but bottom line, I loved him. He loved me. This was my best day. Small problem, I had to tell Ringo, and my parents and Callie and Alan. I will wait until after their wedding. That seemed fair to them and it gave me time to figure out what I was going to say to Ringo.
I couldn't stand not telling Ringo so I did. I explained that I just couldn't marry him that I really loved Paul. I was so sorry, I didn't mean to love Paul I just did and I seemed to have no control over the feeling. Ringo seemed more lost that upset or angry. He agreed we would go through Callie and Alan's wedding and then let people know that we would not be married. They just don't make many men like Ringo. He was so reasonable and understanding. That made me feel even worse.
Dad in the meantime was teaching me things. He bought me a compass, not the math kind. He wanted to teach me how to find north. This was sad. I feared he might take me out in the woods and leave me there. One day he took me downtown to Merrill Lynch. I was going to meet his stockbroker, a personal friend, and they were going to teach me about the stock market. We walked in the building, met Mr. Humes and my first question: "Who are Pierce, Fenner and Smith". That's the name of the business Merrill Lynch Pierce Fenner and Smith. "They are the other founding partners", my dad explained. "Why don't they call it that then?" I asked. This was not going well. The rest of the day was a math lesson and about saving 10% of your income. I had a little job. I made $65.00 a week. I wasn't sweating that $6.50. (MATH!!!).
Paul's letters were what I lived for, writing to him and receiving letters from him. His letters were amazing. They were wise and mystic. Metaphysical and full of imagery and metaphor. They were other worldly and I loved his words. Magic. This man is The Wizard indeed. We had a plan. After he got home he was going to buy a motorcycle and we were taking a trip to Minnesota. When we got back from our travels we would get an apartment. None of the marriage stuff. We were groovy and didn't a piece of paper to say we were together.
This sounded like my perfect dream except for one small problem. Motorcycle, no, I didn't do that. I had an uncle in San Diego who was a coroner. He told me all about "sweeping up" motorcycle accident victims off the highway. Where EMTs call motorcyclists "organ donors" today, coroners called them "vegetables" then. Time to get a driver's license and a car.
I drove Ringo's car all the time. It fit me like a glove. I loved it. I realized it would be in bad form to ask to borrow it for my driver's test. My parents owned 2 land yachts on wheels. I wanted to buy my car and then get my license in a car I might have a prayer of parallel parking. Dad agreed. WHAT? That had never happened.
My grandfather gave me $2,000 to buy a car. He had given brother a car when he got his license and though Gramps didn't have the dealership in tiny town Kentucky anymore he was a fair man. I found my car. A 1968 Chevelle SS 396, automatic on the floor, leather, buckets, it was fabulous. My dad and I went to negotiate the deal. I needed this particular car like a hole in my head but I knew Paul would drool over it and a motorcycle would seem silly to take to Minnesota when we could look cool, be cool, smoke reefers and listen to great tunes on the 8 track. I had to have this car. It cost $2,850.
My dad was the king of negotiation in his own mind. I heard the theme from The Good, The Bad and The Ugly as we walked into the dealership. We went into the office with the salesman. Talk about the car, blah, blah, blah, engine, blah, blah, blah, payments, blah, blah, blah, whatever....give me the keys. My dad pulled out a notebook ripped off a piece of paper, wrote down a number folded the paper and pushed it across the table. The salesman looked at the paper and smiled shaking his head. He wrote down another number, folded the paper pushed toward my dad. Dad looked at the paper and laughed a little. That piece of paper went in the trash. Dad did some calculations in his notebook, wrote down a number on a new piece of paper, folded it and pushed toward the salesman. REALLY? This went on for an eternity. Finally, my dad said, "sorry, no deal. Let's go". WHAT???? "Wait, dad I need this car."
""No, other cars out there" . "I will make payments". "No, you won't. Only stupid people buy cars they cannot afford".
Three days later my dad brought me home a car I hated. HATED. It was ugly, it was a Pontiac and it was NOT a GTO. "It's a great deal, dad said, "and you can afford it" . This was going to be my car. I really wanted the Chevy and dad could have lent me the money but, oh well, I was the un-proud owner of an ugly Pontiac LeMans.
I went the next day and got my license. Whew. That evening I piled Jeff and couple of other guitar guys in my car for a ride. I was making a left hand turn on to a divided street when the car hit me. My brakes didn't work, I swear they went to the floor. No one was hurt except my pride. I was never driving again. Yes, look dad, I am stupid. I wrecked my car the day I got my license. Pardon my French but LeFuck.
Oh well, Paul would be here soon and that was all that really mattered. One day the doorbell rang and there stood Who? Remember me? I am Paul's brother. I just got home from the Army and mom thought maybe Paul's girlfriend could introduce to some people and show me around.
PAUL'S MOTHER KNEW I WAS HIS GIRLFRIEND!!! That was all I got from this conversation.
"Sure, come on in". This was not a good plan.
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