Notice: Function _load_textdomain_just_in_time was called incorrectly. Translation loading for the twentyfifteen domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /chroot/home/a6f7779a/9d7429a5d9.nxcli.io/html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6170 {"id":793,"date":"2016-10-30T11:37:27","date_gmt":"2016-10-30T16:37:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=793"},"modified":"2016-10-30T11:37:50","modified_gmt":"2016-10-30T16:37:50","slug":"kansas-part-two","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/frankdeleon.com\/?p=793","title":{"rendered":"Kansas – Part Two"},"content":{"rendered":"

Kansas<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Part Two<\/strong><\/p>\n

March-December 1964<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Slip Sliding Away<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

We\u2019d been in Kansas now about five months and we loved it.\u00a0 Even though our two-story apartment was small, it was on the end of the six apartment unit, so we enjoyed having only one neighbor.<\/p>\n

Because Gardner was small, and mostly a farming community, we did most of our shopping in Olathe.\u00a0 The bonus was that Kansas City was about a thirty-minute drive north on the newly constructed Interstate 35.\u00a0 Great restaurants (not that we could afford them), shopping, and some very happening jazz clubs.<\/p>\n

The people were probably the area\u2019s biggest asset, very friendly, open and extremely accepting of the diverse military community.\u00a0 Our neighbors in the apartment next door were a newly married couple\u2014Samuel, a black Army sergeant, and his wife Hilda, a white German woman.\u00a0 They\u2019d met and married during his previous assignment in Germany, and being that it was the early sixties, it was unusual to see a mixed-race married couple.<\/p>\n

They were still childless, and during our first \u201cget acquainted\u201d conversation, initiated when they greeted us enthusiastically as we were bringing groceries into the apartment from the car, they told us that they wanted to wait to have children until after his upcoming discharge and their subsequent move back to his home in New Jersey.\u00a0 Throughout our chat Hilda seemed to be taken with our boys and couldn\u2019t keep her eyes and hands off of them.<\/p>\n

A few days later, while I was at work, Hilda came over and invited Sharon over to her apartment for coffee and strudel.\u00a0 I was surprised that Sharon accepted, but as I later found out, Hilda just wouldn\u2019t take no for an answer.<\/p>\n

During that visit, she absolutely fell in love with Ricky and little Frank\u2014and afterwards would make any excuse to drop in as often as she could when her husband was at work just to visit and spend time with Sharon and the boys.\u00a0 For Sharon it was a blessing in disguise, as she could pretty much time her errands to coincide with Hilda\u2019s visits\u2014comfortably leaving the boys in Hilda\u2019s loving care.\u00a0 Hilda didn\u2019t seem to mind; in fact, often suggesting that if Sharon had something she needed to do in Olathe she would be thrilled to watch the boys.<\/p>\n

I was now working evenings at the Quality Oil gas station and putting in long hours, but the extra money was beginning to chip away at our furniture debt.\u00a0 And being able to fill our car\u2019s gas tank for free allowed us to be able to eat out a bit more on weekends.\u00a0 But all that time apart from each other was beginning to have a detrimental effect on us, and without realizing what was happening we slowly but surely began to drift apart.<\/p>\n

Being gone from seven in the morning and not getting home until almost midnight five to six nights a week\u2014except for the forty-five minutes that I had when I got home from the naval air station and changed clothes\u2014was the norm.\u00a0 On weekends I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was stay home and practice on my guitar or tinker with the car.\u00a0 Sharon, bored nearly out of her mind after having spent the week looking after the boys and dealing with household issues by herself, yearned to get out of the house and go shopping, eat out, or maybe go watch a movie.\u00a0 But of course, there was that money problem.<\/p>\n

Because the boys were still so young, for us to go out alone would mean having to hire a babysitter.\u00a0 And although Hilda would\u2019ve been more than willing to watch them for free, we felt that with her husband home on weekends it just wouldn\u2019t be right to ask her to spend more time with our kids.<\/p>\n

Because our neighborhood consisted mostly of younger servicemen and their wives, the available babysitters usually came from suburban families in Olathe; and then at a premium.\u00a0 We quickly found that their normal hourly babysitting charge was well above what we could normally afford for an evening out, so more often than not we ended up staying home on weekends\u2014and after a while found ourselves increasingly getting on each other\u2019s nerves.<\/p>\n

I guess because we were too close to our situation we just couldn\u2019t see what was happening to our marriage.\u00a0 For having been away from each other for so long the previous year, one would think that we would\u2019ve completely savored our time together.\u00a0 Instead, we filled our time together grousing at each other, finding faults in one another, and arguing on how better to use the precious little money we had left over after paying our bills.\u00a0 To use a hackneyed and well-worn phrase, \u201cWe just couldn\u2019t see the forest for the trees.\u201d<\/p>\n

So assuming that most of our troubles seemed to stem from our lack of money, I reasoned that what was needed was for me to get another job.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

One afternoon, while taking a break between intercept missions at work, I found myself having a cup of coffee with one of our crew chiefs\u2014a Technical Sergeant named John.\u00a0 Our conversation eventually got around to the subject of music and we began to discuss our mutual attraction to folk music and rock and roll.<\/p>\n

He mentioned that he\u2019d studied piano when he was young and still played whenever he got the chance.\u00a0 Although he preferred playing jazz, he enjoyed some of the latest rock and roll songs because of their simplicity.\u00a0 I told him I played guitar and tended to lean towards the rock and folk song genres.\u00a0 As our conversation progressed he brought up the fact that he knew a couple of sailors on the base that would occasionally join him at his house to \u201cjam\u201d.\u00a0 One played the bass guitar and the other, the drums.\u00a0 He asked if I\u2019d like to join them the next time they got together.<\/p>\n

I told him that it sounded like fun, but with my part-time job I had very little time.\u00a0 Also, because I spent so much time away from home, my wife preferred that we do stuff together whenever I wasn\u2019t working.<\/p>\n

\u201cBring the wife!\u201d\u00a0 He said, \u201cMy old lady usually just stays in the kitchen or goes out shopping while we rock out while drinking a couple of beers in the den.\u00a0 She tells me she likes the music, but our repertoire needs a little work.\u201d<\/p>\n

I explained that we had a couple of little ones, but that I\u2019d check with Sharon to see what her plans were.\u00a0 He gave me his address and home phone number and assured me that our kids would be no problem.\u00a0 John had one daughter and she had just left for her first year of college, \u201c\u2026so the wife can\u2019t stand the thought of not having a kid around the house anymore.\u00a0 She\u2019d probably just spend the time spoiling yours!\u201d He said gleefully.<\/p>\n

A couple of Saturdays later, after asking for and getting the evening off at the gas station, my slightly injured Gibson guitar and I headed for John\u2019s house.\u00a0 I had repeatedly asked Sharon to come along, but she\u2019d declined saying that bringing the boys along would be too much trouble.\u00a0 In truth, I knew that she detested meeting new people\u2014particularly other military wives.\u00a0 And although I assured her that no one would be judging us, she always felt very fearful and tended to avoid making new acquaintances.\u00a0 She felt that she just never had the right clothes to wear and that she was just not sophisticated enough.\u00a0 That shy thing again.\u00a0 Hilda was the only person she felt comfortable with.<\/p>\n

After arriving at John\u2019s house I was introduced to the other two guys: Brian, the drummer, and Craig, the bassist.\u00a0 They were both young, just a few years older than me, but still in their first enlistment.<\/p>\n

After the introductions, during which John\u2019s wife expressed her sincere disappointment when she found out that Sharon hadn\u2019t come, we retired to their spacious den.\u00a0 John and his wife didn\u2019t live in military housing.\u00a0 Because he was close to retirement and they loved the area, they\u2019d decided to make the Olathe area their permanent home after his tour of duty was completed.\u00a0 They\u2019d used their savings and purchased their nice four-bedroom ranch home in a tree-lined subdivision; and topping at around twenty-six-hundred feet, not counting the basement, qualified it in those days as a veritable mansion.<\/p>\n

Because Brian still lived in bachelor quarters he\u2019d asked to leave his drum set at John\u2019s house because the transport, set-up and take-down of the large set was such a hassle.<\/p>\n

I broke out my Gibson and tuned it up to John\u2019s piano\u2014an old brown upright that was still in remarkably good condition.\u00a0 Afterwards it was Craig\u2019s turn to tune up his Fender American.\u00a0 Because my guitar wasn\u2019t amplified, John set up a small microphone with the receiver pointed at the sound hole and plugged it into Craig\u2019s small amplifier.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK,\u201d John said, \u201cnow that everyone\u2019s tuned up what\u2019dya say we crank something up?\u201d<\/p>\n

We all looked around at each other.<\/p>\n

\u201cRight!\u201d John said, \u201cDo we all know \u2018Walk, Don\u2019t Run\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was one of the simpler instrumental songs that called for a rhythm guitar to play the base chords: Starting with a rousing drum solo setting the tone, the rhythm guitar would punch out a repetitive downward progression in four\/four time of Am, G, F and E chords throughout, and a slide into a hardy C-F chord change in the bridge. \u00a0Then, after four bars a lead guitar would came in and play the melody.\u00a0 I could do the rhythm chords but could not do the lead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I said to John, \u201cI can do the intro and the background rhythm, but I can\u2019t do the lead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, no sweat!\u00a0 That\u2019s what I\u2019m here for.\u00a0 I\u2019ll do the lead on the piano while you and Craig do the bass and the rhythm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, OK.\u201d\u00a0 That sounded simple enough.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlright then\u2026on one, two, one, two, three, four\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

We played the song through once, then we discussed some sound levels.\u00a0 After playing it over several times, John suggested that we move onto something else.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh Frank.\u00a0 I forgot to ask, can you do vocals?\u00a0 Because none of us can sing worth a shit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I guess.\u201d I said. \u201cAll the music I play I do vocals and accompany myself with the guitar.\u00a0 Now, don\u2019t ask me how good I am, but I can carry a tune.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuper!\u00a0 Do you know \u201cKing of the Road\u201d by Roger Miller?\u201d<\/p>\n

I did!<\/p>\n

We all seemed to hit it off really well, so we began to meet regularly on whichever weekend day I wasn\u2019t working\u2014and a few times I was even able to sneak in a few evenings.\u00a0 After a while we\u2019d built up a repertoire of over thirty songs.<\/p>\n

That was the beginning of our little four-man band we ended up naming, \u201cThe Goldtones.\u201d<\/p>\n

Meanwhile, Sharon was spending more and more time alone with the boys.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Our first paid gig as the Goldtones was at a little bar\/club in south Olathe called \u201cThe Anchor Inn.\u201d\u00a0 I guess originally it had been a small motel, but its bar had achieved a whole lot more success (and some notoriety) than the twenty, or so rooms that were attached to the main building.\u00a0 In time, the rooms were closed and bulldozed, making room for a larger parking lot.<\/p>\n

John\u2019s wife had sewn us up a set of gold lam\u00e9 and sequined vests to be worn over tuxedo shirts and black dress pants.\u00a0 Since John was older we asked him to negotiate a deal with the owner, a burly and heavily-tattooed ex-navy chief called Bubba.\u00a0 After insisting that we doing a ten-song audition for him one afternoon, he contracted the Goldtones to play for the next two months on Friday and Saturday evenings, from 8PM until midnight.\u00a0 The contract stipulated a lump sum of $240, plus tips (and heavily discounted drinks), for each weekend played.<\/p>\n

I remember thinking that with the extra $60 a week, Sharon and I would be able to get out of debt in practically no time.\u00a0 I was so elated when I got back into the car that I couldn\u2019t wait to go home to give her the good news.\u00a0 Much to my disappointment, she was less than thrilled.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what are you gonna do about your shifts at the station?\u201d\u00a0 She asked, her eyes glaring at me through her slightly askew cats-eye frames.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I talked to Billy about that, and he said I could work the day shifts on the weekends to make up for the lost time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, who\u2019s gonna work the evening shifts then?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said he was gonna hire another guy\u2026had been planning to do so anyway, so he can spend more time at home with his wife and kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

At this, her face screwed up into a mask of almost complete rage.\u00a0 \u201cWell, at least he\u2019s<\/u> thinking of his wife!\u00a0 And what the hell am I supposed to be doing while you\u2019re off playing at night clubs?\u00a0 Huh?\u00a0 As it is, I\u2019m here alone most of the time, and so now you\u2019ve arranged it so I\u2019m here by myself even more?\u00a0 What are you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n

My one-track simple mind could not fathom the reason for her displeasure.\u00a0 Here I was trying to earn more money for us and she was complaining about being home.\u00a0 Hell, <\/em>I thought, I would sure love to be able to stay home every day and do the little shit that she does.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I\u2019m trying as hard as I can to make ends meet and to give you and the boys a better life, and this is how you show your appreciation?\u00a0 Shit!\u00a0 What the fuck are you complaining about?\u00a0 I get up early every day and work my ass off until almost midnight while you sit around and watch TV and take care of the boys.\u00a0 If you think I\u2019m leading such a glamorous fucking life, I\u2019d love to trade responsibilities!\u201d<\/p>\n

With that, her eyes filled with tears and she ripped her glasses off.\u00a0 \u201cYou know what?\u201d\u00a0 She said in a blubbery sob, \u201cYou can just go ahead and do whatever you want to do!\u00a0 And while you\u2019re at it you can go straight to hell!\u00a0 You have no idea what I go through every day!\u00a0 You think what I do is so simple?\u00a0 I swear I had it easier when you were in Alaska!\u00a0 The boys are older now and their needs are much more complex!\u00a0 But how would you fucking know?\u00a0 You see them about an hour a week and think that makes you a father!\u201d<\/p>\n

She pushed by me, knocking the coffee table askew, and ran up the stairs to the bedroom.\u00a0 The door slammed and after a few minutes I heard her crying bitterly.<\/p>\n

The boys, sitting on the floor were at first mesmerized by the animated conversation that the big folks were having.\u00a0 Suddenly they realized that their mommy had left the room, and then both of them burst out in a tandem bout of panicky bawling.<\/p>\n

Try as I might I couldn\u2019t soothe them down.\u00a0 When I tried to pick them up they pushed their little hands into my chest, and kicked wildly, trying to get down and away from me.\u00a0 Their little heads spun around eagerly looking to find where their mother may have gone.\u00a0 It was totally lost on me that they looked to her for their main support and comfort, and that I was just an occasional visitor in their lives.<\/p>\n

This event, at the time annoying and infuriating to me, would be quickly forgotten.\u00a0 However, it would at a later date return from its hiding place in my memory and cause me considerable regret, guilt, and bitter remorse.<\/p>\n

Suspicion, The Goldtones, & Ricky Renames His Brother<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

The biting heat of the summer of 1964 had passed and during the waning days of September a soft and subtle coolness had descended on the browning plains of Kansas.\u00a0 The trees began to turn beautiful shades of rust and gold, and the days grew shorter\u2014with the evening sun taking on a soft buttery hue before slowly sinking into a fading, reddish-purple horizon.<\/p>\n

In South Africa, Nelson Mandela had been sentenced to life in prison, presumably never to see the light of day again; and an incident in the Gulf of Tonkin where the North Vietnamese Navy had fired upon American intelligence vessels had angered the newly sworn-in President Johnson.\u00a0 After conferring with his aides, he decided on launching immediate air attacks on North Vietnam in retaliation, then went to Congress asking for and receiving a mandate for future military action.\u00a0 This ensured our deep and painful immersion in the quagmire that would come to be known as the Vietnam War.<\/p>\n

For me, the daily simulated bombing missions at the Air Force detachment had increased exponentially in direct response to the exploding events in Indo-China, and I found myself working radar intercepts six to seven hours out of my nine-hour day.\u00a0 The rest of the time was spent debriefing each mission, and receiving almost hourly security briefings on the possibility of China sending waves of troops and war machines into the growing conflict as they had done during the Korean War.<\/p>\n

Because I was now averaging three to four hours of sleep at night during the week after working at the station, I found myself dozing off occasionally during some radar intercept runs; then frightened back into consciousness when the interceptor pilot\u2019s voice boomed in my headset calling to reaffirm his speed while heading to the target aircraft.\u00a0 Sometimes between missions, I would excuse myself from some of the briefings to go to the bathroom to sit on the commode and catch a quick nap.\u00a0 A couple of times I fell into such a deep and sudden slumber that I actually slipped off the pot, my head and shoulder slamming into the metal wall of the stall.<\/p>\n

On Fridays I would work at the station until seven-thirty when I would be relieved by Billy\u2019s new hire, so I could clean up and get to the Anchor Inn for my gig.\u00a0 His name was Randall, and from the get-go he made it known that he was not military.\u00a0 But my instant dislike for him didn\u2019t stem from him not being in the service; I just thought he was arrogant and somewhat of an asshole.\u00a0 It was obvious that he didn\u2019t like the service or servicemen, often making comments about how much nicer Olathe would be if only the \u2018fucking dickheads at the naval air station\u2019 would disappear overnight.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t seem to meet any decent fucking women because for some reason the bitches are too fascinated with the boys from the base wearing their \u2018play-war\u2019 uniforms.\u00a0 Shit, they even go for the fucking niggers!\u201d\u00a0 He said to me one day.<\/p>\n

Irritated, I asked him if he had a problem with me being in the service, because if he did maybe we should just take care of it behind the station some evening.\u00a0 He quickly backed off saying that I was one of the exceptions because I was married already, \u201c\u2026to a pretty decent-looking chick too\u2026\u201d\u00a0 I didn\u2019t think to ask him how he knew what she looked like.<\/p>\n

On Friday and Saturday evenings, I and the other Goldtones would play our gig at the little club in South Olathe.\u00a0 And although we were supposed to quit at midnight, more often than not Bubba would ask us to play another set because \u201cthey\u2019re drinking like fish and hanging out because the chicks are loving your music.\u201d\u00a0 He would usually give us ten bucks each for our trouble.\u00a0 Plus, the tip jar at the end of the stage would usually give up an additional twenty to thirty dollars at the end of the night.<\/p>\n

I would get home sometime around 2AM, then get up at six to get to the station to open it by seven.\u00a0 My only rest night was Sunday evening, and all I wanted to do after I got home at five or six in the evening was to take a long hot bath and collapse on the bed completely exhausted.<\/p>\n

After the argument we\u2019d gotten into when I told her I was going to start playing at the Anchor Inn, Sharon had been oddly quiet.\u00a0 At first I welcomed it, but as time went on I started to worry a bit because I slowly realized that we were hardly communicating.\u00a0 When I did try to initiate a conversation, she would watch me intently without saying a word.\u00a0 When I asked her for an opinion on something, her response began increasingly to be, \u201c\u2026whatever you think\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

One Sunday evening after my bath, I decided to engage her and try to get a conversation going.\u00a0 Instead of my usual flopping into bed and instantly falling into a deep but short slumber, I walked softly downstairs.\u00a0 As I hit the bottom landing, I saw that she was sitting on the couch with her back to me talking very softly on the telephone.<\/p>\n

She must\u2019ve sensed that I was there because she quickly turned her head and put her hand on the phone\u2019s receiver.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh! Hi!\u201d\u00a0 She said with a tone of surprise in her voice. \u201cI thought you were in bed!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho\u2019s on the phone?\u201d I asked, curious to know since I knew that she didn\u2019t know anyone well enough to be carrying a phone conversation that late at night.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, just\u2026just a friend!\u201d she said, with a little tremble in her voice.\u00a0 \u201cHey!\u201d she now said hurriedly into the receiver, \u201cI gotta go now, thanks for calling.\u201d\u00a0 And she quickly hung up.<\/p>\n

I walked slowly into the living room, and for the first time noticed that Ricky was sleeping deeply on the couch while little Frank was entertaining himself on the floor with a stuffed panda.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy aren\u2019t the kids in bed?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I usually wait until you\u2019re sleeping before I put them down.\u00a0 That\u2019s so they don\u2019t wake you up.\u201d<\/p>\n

She seemed very nervous, constantly pushing her glasses high up on her nose and crossing and re-crossing her legs.\u00a0 She was wearing a tight little smile that I never recalled seeing on her face.<\/p>\n

I took a seat on the living room chair across the room from her and just stared at her for a while.<\/p>\n

It was tense and very uncomfortable\u2026then Ricky stretched and woke up.\u00a0 He let out a couple of whimpers and Sharon hurriedly picked him up.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess I\u2019ll go ahead and put the boys to bed now.\u00a0 They\u2019ve already had their bath\u2026I always give them a bath before you come home so you can have the tub to yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThoughtful\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

She quickly gathered Ricky up and scooped up little Frank by the hand.\u00a0 In a flurry of motion, she was up the stairs and out of sight.<\/p>\n

I stared at the phone and wondered if she\u2019d been talking to Hilda.\u00a0 But if so, why didn\u2019t she just say so.\u00a0 I made up my mind to continue this as soon as she came back down.\u00a0 After what seemed like a very long time to be putting the boys to bed, I decided to walk up and see how things were going.<\/p>\n

The door to the boys\u2019 bedroom was closed to its usual inch-wide crack, allowing us to peek in on them if we needed to.\u00a0 Then I noticed that our bedroom door was fully closed.\u00a0 I slowly opened the door and saw that the light was out and all I could see of Sharon was under a bundle of covers.<\/p>\n

I went down to the lower level and shut off all the lights.\u00a0 Moving slowly in the dark I slid in next to her and under the covers.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou awake?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, but there was no response.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d I said, a bit louder and with a tone of annoyance in my voice.\u00a0 \u201cWake up, we need to talk!\u201d<\/p>\n

The covers flew off her side of the bed and she sat up quickly\u2014reaching for her glasses next to the clock on the nightstand.\u00a0 She stared at me and leaned back\u2014crossing her arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, what?\u201d\u00a0 She said, slamming out the \u201cT\u201d on the word \u2018what\u2019 rather loudly.<\/p>\n

Rather than stoke her apparent irritation, I decided to drop the matter, but that incident stayed with me and I replayed it over and over in my mind until one day, not so far into the future, when it finally came to a head.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

On the other hand, our little rock-a-billy band was going strong.\u00a0 When our contract was almost up at the Anchor Inn, we were contacted by representatives of the local VFW, American Legion, and the SPO (Senior Petty Officers) Club at the Olathe Naval Air Station, for possible gigs.<\/p>\n

Word had apparently spread around the area that we played pretty good, but better yet\u2014pretty cheap.\u00a0 The only requirement we had was that a piano be made available for John, as the electronic keyboard, if available then, would\u2019ve been astronomically expensive.<\/p>\n

With my first payday from the band, I invested in a small portable amplifier and a snap-on electronic pickup kit for my acoustic guitar.\u00a0 Now I wouldn\u2019t have to share the microphone with my rhythm guitar so that it could be heard above the vocals and the other instruments.<\/p>\n

But as with everything else in my life during this period, there was a dark side to my participation in the band.\u00a0 We started to acquire a group of, well, mostly female, groupies.\u00a0 As we played our weekend gigs at the various clubs, the same group of girls would show up to cheer us on.\u00a0 In addition to boosting our morale, it was a bit of a godsend for the single guys in the audience.\u00a0 While there were a lot of couples in attendance, there were more single guys\u2014especially at the Anchor Inn and the veterans\u2019 clubs.\u00a0 The SPO club had a restriction on civilian guests\u2014that is, they were required to have a sponsor to enter, so only a small number of our groupies were allowed in\u2026and only after we guaranteed that they would behave.<\/p>\n

After a while, when our gigs were over, some of the girls began to invite us to continue partying.\u00a0 Sometimes the parties were at someone\u2019s apartment, but most times we were invited to some of the more prominent jazz clubs in Kansas City.\u00a0 A couple of the girls had friends or relatives in management at those clubs, so we were usually catered to quite well.\u00a0 Free drinks, access backstage to meet some of the instrumentalists and singers, and of course lots of offers for a variety of drugs.\u00a0 Apparently I retained at least one grain of common sense, and consistently refused to take even one drag off a joint, but readily accepted any offer of free drinks.<\/p>\n

Of the four of us, John was the only one who had any real common sense about this whole groupie situation.\u00a0 Married for over twenty years, he flatly told us that he was not about to sacrifice his marriage, home, or his retirement on a bunch of barely post-teenaged adolescents.\u00a0 After our gigs, his wife, having either been in the audience or having driven their car to the club when our gigs were up, would be there to escort him home.\u00a0 Lucky him.<\/p>\n

Doug and Craig were single, so they found themselves in literal heaven.\u00a0 As history has noted, this was the beginning of the era of \u2018free sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll\u2019.\u00a0 And boy, was it ever!<\/p>\n

At first I resisted the temptation to join the group after we packed up our instruments\u2014telling everyone that I really needed to get home.\u00a0 But once home, I began to find that Sharon always seemed to be edgy and angry at me.\u00a0 Time after time, after taking a shower and getting into bed I would often be rebuffed and pushed away\u2014sometimes being told that I \u2018stunk\u2019 of alcohol, or it was too late, or that she was just too tired.\u00a0 I also began to get angry, and worse, started feeling sorry for myself.<\/p>\n

Well, hindsight being twenty-twenty, I can now certainly understand why she felt the way she did.\u00a0 But at the time, none of that indulgence and\/or empathy had even the slightest chance of forming in my immature and selfish mind.\u00a0 All I could think was that what I was doing by working three jobs was for the good of my wife and my kids.\u00a0 If I stopped doing all my extracurricular activities, how in the hell could we survive financially?\u00a0 My Air Force pay just barely took care of our rent and utilities, and the rest of our expenses were being carried by my gas station and band income.\u00a0 Why couldn\u2019t she just understand that?<\/p>\n

So one night around midnight, after a gig at the VFW, and while packing my instrument and amplifier away in the trunk of my car, I finally accepted the group\u2019s offer of riding along with them to Kansas City.\u00a0 Although it was the first time, it certainly wouldn\u2019t be the last\u2014and the consequences that those late night jaunts to the various jazz clubs and all-night joints in Kansas City would have on my marriage would turn out to be nothing less than devastating.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0For as long as I can remember, Ricky and Frank have always been at odds with each other\u2014 some would call it \u2018sibling rivalry\u2019; I call it open warfare.\u00a0 One of the stories Sharon related to me on the long drive from Texas to Kansas regarding this issue was about the first time that Ricky got a good look at his new brother.<\/p>\n

She said that ever since returning from the hospital with his brother, Ricky had shown a great curiosity towards the new arrival.\u00a0 Although he was still too small to be able to peer into Frank\u2019s bassinette, he had made several attempts to do so by trying to pull himself up and peek over the top.\u00a0 A couple of times he came close to tipping the bassinette over before Sharon was able to intercede.\u00a0 Finally, to satisfy his intense curiosity one day, she picked Ricky up and held him over Frank for a quick look-see.\u00a0 She watched as Frank tried to focus on this brother, who was suspended in his mother\u2019s arms over him.\u00a0 Suddenly and very quickly, he reached up and snatched a handful of Ricky\u2019s hair.<\/p>\n

Try as she might, she could not pry open Frank\u2019s fist and still keep her balance while holding Ricky over Frank\u2019s little bed.\u00a0 Of course, Ricky was now throwing the mother of all screaming fits and squirming like crazy trying to pull himself away from the little cretin who was intent on ripping out a chunk of his scalp.<\/p>\n

Finally, Sharon had to call my mother into the room for assistance.\u00a0 Once they disengaged the two, Ricky sat on the floor bawling loudly and rubbing his head for a few minutes.\u00a0 Frank, on the other hand, (no pun intended), lay contentedly in his bed staring intently at his little fist in which a few strands of Ricky\u2019s hair were still stuck.<\/p>\n

A few months later, Sharon had placed Frank on the floor in his carrier while she wiped down and changed the sheets and blanket in his bassinette.\u00a0 Ricky, now walking most of the time, ambled up to Frank and stood over him as he watched him suck contentedly on his pacifier.\u00a0 Without warning, Ricky let loose a right-cross haymaker, smacking Frank right on the side of the head.\u00a0 The punch landed with enough force to tip Frank\u2019s carrier over and spill him onto the floor.<\/p>\n

Probably realizing that he was about to receive a good yelling from his mother, Ricky promptly staged a preemptive crying attack\u2014dramatically dropping to his butt and squeezing his eyes tightly while screaming at the top of his lungs.\u00a0 Frank, having been unceremoniously dumped on the floor with his carrier now on top of him, seemed unfazed by the whole incident.\u00a0 In fact, Sharon recalled, he seemed more interested in flailing about the floor in search of the pacifier that had been knocked out of his mouth and had landed a few feet away from him.<\/p>\n

In spite of the occasional flare-up between them, there were many other times when they genuinely showed their affection for each other.\u00a0 One such time that would end up affecting them and us to this very day, occurred just after Thanksgiving.\u00a0 I was spending a very rare Sunday at home, having asked Randall to work my day and evening shift at the gas station, watching my two boys playing on the floor.\u00a0 Frank was sitting on his blanket carefully observing Ricky playing with a toy truck.\u00a0 Frank, trying to keep Ricky in view as he spun the truck behind him, lost his balance and fell over on his back.<\/p>\n

As was Frank\u2019s style, he hardly seemed concerned by his falling over, as usual showing more interest in trying to find his pacifier.<\/p>\n

Sharon and I got up to help Frank back into his carrier, and when Ricky saw that he was not going to be held responsible for his brother\u2019s loss of balance, instantly stopped crying and crawled over to see how he could help.<\/p>\n

Seeing this, Sharon called to Ricky: \u201cYou want to help your baby brother get up?\u201d she asked in a sing-song voice.<\/p>\n

Ricky stopped in mid-crawl and gave his mother a curious look.\u00a0 \u201cBee-bee?\u201d\u00a0 He said, tentatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Sharon answered, \u201cYou want to help your baby brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBee-bee?\u201d\u00a0 Ricky repeated.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d\u00a0 Sharon corrected.\u00a0 \u201cYour baby <\/strong>brother!\u00a0 Not, bee-bee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBee-bee!\u201d\u00a0 Ricky now said with enthusiasm, assuming that his mother had affirmed his pronunciation.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo! Baby<\/strong>!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBee-bee!\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cBaby!\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cBee-bee!\u201d<\/strong><\/p>\n

And so it went for a few minutes between them while \u2018Bee-bee\u2019 crawled about. still trying to locate his pacifier.<\/p>\n

From that moment on, Frank became \u2018Bee-bee\u2019 to Ricky, and after a while we gave up trying to correct him and we both began to call him \u2018Bee-bee\u2019 also.\u00a0 As time went on, \u2018Bee-bee\u2019 morphed into \u2018Beebe\u2019, and for close family and friends that became Frank\u2019s official nickname.<\/p>\n

Growing up, he never liked nor did he really accept the nickname, but tolerated it because he knew that the more he fought it the more we all would use it.\u00a0 One of my proudest moments occurred when Beebe was a senior at Texas A&M University and had been promoted to squadron commander within the university\u2019s Corps of Cadets.\u00a0 It was on a Parents\u2019 Day when I was allowed to enter the cadets\u2019 barracks to observe the commanders putting the plebes (called \u2018fish\u2019 at A&M) through their paces.<\/p>\n

Beebe was looking extremely sharp in his tightly-tailored green fatigues, gleaming high-top black combat boots, and drill instructor\u2019s cap, as he yelled instructions to the freshmen while strutting about carrying a short baton under his arm.<\/p>\n

When he turned his back to me, I saw that instead of having the name, \u2018DE LEON\u2019 printed on the back of his shirt, he was proudly displaying the name, \u201cBEEBE\u201d.<\/p>\n

Seeing that caused a little moisture to seep into my eyes, and it was then that I realized that after all these years he\u2019d finally accepted his unique nickname.<\/p>\n

Goodbye Chevy, Hello Trouble<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

In late October, Bob, with whom I\u2019d been carpooling with for several months, told me that he was planning on buying a used car from a \u201cprivate\u201d dealer in Missouri.<\/p>\n

\u201cI got a great deal from this guy, so I have to take my Kansas plates back so I can put them on my new car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d I said, a bit surprised.\u00a0 \u201cWhat am I supposed to do now?\u00a0 I don\u2019t have valid Texas plates and if I try to get my Kansas plates now I\u2019ll have to pay a hefty penalty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, I figured that since you\u2019re making all this money with your band you can probably afford to get all that done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I can probably afford that now, but Christmas is coming up and I need to save money to get gifts for Sharon and the boys.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you just renew your Texas plates?\u00a0 I did some checking and the cops here won\u2019t ticket you for out-of-state plates as long as you\u2019re in the service.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow am I supposed to do that?\u00a0 I\u2019m up here in Kansas.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, just give them a long distance call.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure the DMV down there will renew them for you.\u00a0 Just tell them you\u2019re up here in Kansas on temporary duty.\u00a0 They don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n

And, he was right on both counts.\u00a0 After I did some checking of my own, I confirmed that Kansas was very lenient on servicemen not registering their cars in Kansas.\u00a0 Most of the Navy personnel were here on TDY (temporary duty) training assignments anyway, so there was a proliferation of out-of-state plates all over the area.\u00a0 It would be difficult for law enforcement to stop everyone with non-Kansas plates to ascertain whether or not they were assigned here temporarily or permanently.<\/p>\n

After making a call to the DMV in Texas, I discovered that all I had to do was to send them a copy of my title, a money order for the small registration fee, and provide them with a Texas address.\u00a0 The next day I sent the title and the money order, and used my parents\u2019 address as my permanent residence.\u00a0 In two weeks I had my renewed plates, and breathing a sigh of relief, I bolted them on to the Chevy.<\/p>\n

A few days later Bob drove over to my housing unit to show me his new car.\u00a0 It was a beautiful black 1962 Ford XL Victoria hardtop coupe.\u00a0 It was less than two years old with 12,000 miles on the odometer, and it cost him less than two thousand dollars.<\/p>\n

\u201cWow!\u201d\u00a0 I exclaimed.\u00a0 \u201cThis is beautiful!\u00a0 And it looks brand new.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, this guy, Lou, has some really great deals!\u00a0 This one cost over thirty-five hundred dollars new a couple of years ago, and I got it for eighteen hundred!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can he do that?\u201d\u00a0 I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a private dealer!\u00a0 There\u2019s no middle-man.\u00a0 He buys them at auction and just adds a hundred or so for his mark-up.\u00a0 You oughta go check this guy out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I don\u2019t have that kind of money to pay upfront.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t need to!\u00a0 He has a friend who\u2019s vice president at Empire State Bank in Kansas City and he finances the purchase.\u00a0 Man, I got really low payments with no down either!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat does sound pretty good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure!\u00a0 Here, this is his number.\u00a0 Give him a call if you think you\u2019re interested, or at least drive over to his place and check his inventory out.\u00a0 He deals out of his house and he keeps the cars out in his yard, so that way there\u2019s also no overhead!\u00a0 He doesn\u2019t have to lease a lot or pay city taxes because his place is out in the country.\u00a0 Check it out!\u201d<\/p>\n

Well, I was very interested.\u00a0 Not that there was anything wrong with the Chevy\u2014it was running great, but it was fourteen years old.\u00a0 Whenever I drove it to my music gigs I would inevitably get razzed on driving an \u201cantique\u201d.\u00a0 So never having really owned a \u201creal\u201d car, and especially with my lack of car buying experience, I naively thought that having a two-year-old car would really be cool.<\/p>\n

That evening while I was working at the station I did some quick calculations.\u00a0 A few weeks ago Sharon and I had decided that I would have to re-enlist in the Air Force for another four years as we had nothing to fall back on if I got discharged in December.\u00a0 We had no money, no job prospects, and we were still loaded up with furniture and TV debt.\u00a0 With the re-enlistment bonus that I assumed was going to be at least a thousand dollars, and my gas station and band income, we would be able to swing a small car payment for a newer car.<\/p>\n

When I presented the figures to Sharon she seemed as excited as I was about getting a newer car.\u00a0 Again, looking back at it now, it was a bad decision that we would end up paying for dearly for the next several years.\u00a0 It was ridiculous for us to think that adding a new payment to our existing debt would somehow ease us out of our burgeoning monthly liabilities, but we were young and completely unexperienced in financial matters.\u00a0 Regrettably, the next day I called Mr. Werner and made an appointment to drive out to see him.<\/p>\n

The following week, we loaded up the Chevy with the boys and paid a trip to Mr. Lou Werner, of Kearney, Missouri.<\/p>\n

His home was a luxurious spread-out ranch-style home built on what seemed to be about five acres of lush wooded rolling hills.\u00a0 The house was set back about fifty yards from the winding farm road we had driven on for a few miles before finding the place.\u00a0 Several cars were parked on the lawn between the front of the house and the road.<\/p>\n

When we rang the doorbell, a glitzy blonde, complete with a penciled-in beauty mark on her left cheek and shiny ruby-red lipstick, greeted us graciously at the door.\u00a0 She was dressed in a white silk blouse, and her hair was golden and flawlessly piled up in the latest beehive style.\u00a0 She was very tall, and her long legs, poured into aqua colored Capri pants, sat atop outrageously elevated stiletto heels.<\/p>\n

\u201cAh\u2026\u201d She oozed.\u00a0 \u201cYou must be the De Le\u00f3ns.\u00a0 So nice to meet you, I\u2019m sure.\u00a0 Come on in and make yourself at home.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her voice was low and raspy and her accent sounded like the one that I\u2019d heard from a couple of guys I\u2019d known in Alaska who had been born and raised in Brooklyn and the Bronx.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d I said, as I took and gently shook the two extended highly-manicured fingers she daintily offered.\u00a0 She turned, and we followed her pendulum-like walk into the house\u2019s sumptuous living room.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave a seat anywhere and I\u2019ll go see if Lou is available.\u201d And with that, she disappeared through a large oak-framed portal.<\/p>\n

There were several overstuffed sofas, chairs of all sizes and colors, and a huge crystal chandelier hanging precariously from the low ceiling.\u00a0 I had to take care walking around it so as not to run into the lower row of sparkling glass finials.<\/p>\n

After spreading ourselves out on a purplish velvet couch, we waited for a few minutes before Low made his entrance.<\/p>\n

He was balding, with a rather badly executed comb-over, and a complexion that looked dry and colorless.\u00a0 He was top-heavy, reminding me of a spinning top with arms, and appeared to be at least thirty years older than Mrs. Werner.\u00a0 A large damp unlit cigar butt hung from his thin pallid lips, clamped tightly by a set of crooked, yellowing teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cHiya, Mr. and Mrs. De Le\u00f3n!\u201d He said loudly, as he entered the room.\u00a0 Instead of walking, he appeared to glide across the gleaming dark hardwood floor, reminding me of a male ballet dancer\u2014his teeny feet and gait belying his wide upper girth.<\/p>\n

I stood quickly and reached out to shake his girlish-like hand and was almost repulsed when his limp, moist and baby-smooth palm met mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo nice of you folks to drive all the way out here,\u201d he said, sounding like an extremely effeminate version of Truman Capote.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sure we\u2019ll be able to find you something that\u2019ll meet your budget.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d I said, trying to keep the revulsion out of my voice.<\/p>\n

He spun on a dime and teetered out toward the front door.\u00a0 It was then I noticed that he was wearing bright red suspenders over a skintight yellow Polo, holding up his gaudy yellow plaid golfing style slacks.\u00a0 Apparently to ensure that everything stayed in place, he was also wearing a tan lizard-skin belt around his ample belly.<\/p>\n

We stepped outside and he took me directly to what he described as his \u201cfavorite\u201d\u2014a 1962 dark blue four-door Dodge Dart.\u00a0 It was a small car, but it had the largest tires that I\u2019d ever seen.\u00a0 Not only wide, but they seemed to fill the fender well to the maximum.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow this baby here is what I just know you\u2019re looking for.\u00a0 It\u2019s got a 413 cubic-inch V-8, four-barrel carb, with a three-quarter racing cam.\u00a0 It\u2019s a killer highway car, and I\u2019ve got it on sale for eighteen hundred dollars!\u00a0 What\u2019dya think?\u201d<\/p>\n

Other than the price, I had no idea what he\u2019d just said.\u00a0 Although my dad was a master mechanic and auto painter, he\u2019d always shielded me from learning anything about cars\u2014particularly when he was working on one at home.\u00a0 \u201cYou don\u2019t need to know anything about this!\u201d he would caution.\u00a0 \u201cYou don\u2019t wanna end up being a grease monkey like me.\u00a0 You wanna to grow up having other people work on your cars.\u201d<\/p>\n

So I just stared when Lou pulled the hood up on the Dart and motioned me over.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere she is!\u00a0 Ain\u2019t she a beaut?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh\u2026yeah.\u00a0 She sure is.\u201d\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t sure what I was supposed to be admiring, but the large air filter sitting on top of the carburetor and covering most of the engine looked pretty impressive.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me start her up for you!\u201d<\/p>\n

He opened the driver\u2019s side door and squeezed his bulk into the front seat.\u00a0 A couple of seconds later, the engine fired up and the noise pretty much scared the crap out of me.\u00a0 As he gunned the engine, the entire car leaned one way, then another\u2014depending on whether the motor was spooling up or winding down.\u00a0 Mercifully, he finally shut it off.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere!\u201d he said, putting the hood down and stroking it with his tiny hands like a proud owner would his prize Labrador retriever.\u00a0 \u201cGet the wife and kids and take her out for a spin.\u00a0 But be careful, she\u2019ll try to get away from you.\u00a0 She\u2019s hot to trot, she is!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sharon had already come out of the house, probably because she thought something had blown up outside, and carrying Beebe, walked slowly toward us.\u00a0 Ricky was tagging along, maintaining a tight hold of her skirt and a look that said he wasn\u2019t too sure he wanted to get any closer.<\/p>\n

We took the car for a spin and it was like we\u2019d jumped into a rocket.\u00a0 The car was crazy fast\u2014a slight nudge on the accelerator would elicit an angry growl from under the hood and the rear wheels would literally spin out of control.<\/p>\n

Oddly, it had an automatic transmission, and the driving modes were selected by pushing the appropriate button on the left side of the dashboard.\u00a0 Although I\u2019d driven cars with automatic transmissions before, none had ever had the get-up-and-go that this one possessed.\u00a0 I was impressed.<\/p>\n

When we returned from our little test drive, Lou waved us into the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, what did you think?\u00a0 Is she a hot one or is she a hot one?\u201d\u00a0 And he burst out into a wheezing laugh.<\/p>\n

Sharon and I looked at each other and smiled.<\/p>\n

Lou repeated that he was asking eighteen-hundred dollars, but since we were such a nice-looking family he\u2019d sacrifice by dropping a hundred bucks; and on top of that he would give us five hundred for our Chevy\u2014leaving twelve hundred to pay for the Dart.\u00a0 \u201cPlus,\u201d he said, \u201cno money down on this deal.\u00a0 See, I got a pal who works at the Empire State Bank down in KC, and he\u2019ll finance the whole deal for us.\u00a0 All you need to do is fill out a few forms and they\u2019ll mail you a payment book in a couple of weeks.\u00a0 First payment will be due in about a month.\u00a0 How\u2019s that sound?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked to Sharon for some help in deciding, but all she did was shrug.\u00a0 I think she was still rattled from the test drive.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d I asked tentatively, \u201cwhen can we pick up the car?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHells bells, son.\u201d He said, boisterously, \u201cYou can take her with you now!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, but what about the financing?\u00a0 And how much will the payments be?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAw, no worries on the financing.\u00a0 That\u2019s a done deal.\u201d He turned and walked over to a small writing desk in the living room.\u00a0 \u201cLet\u2019s see.\u00a0 He opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of glasses and a sheet of paper.\u00a0 Taking a pen out of his shirt pocket he scribbled a few numbers down.\u00a0 \u201cWell, looks like sixty dollars a month for\u2026let\u2019s see\u2026twenty months!\u00a0 That includes all interest and everything!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOK, but what about plates?\u00a0 I didn\u2019t see any on the car.\u00a0 Do I get temporary tags?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNaw!\u00a0 That shit\u2026oh, pardon my French\u2026that stuff just gives the state more money.\u00a0 What we\u2019ll do is take the Texas tags off your Chevy and slap\u2019em on the Dart.\u00a0 That way you won\u2019t have to get new Kansas tags until your Texas ones expire.\u00a0 By then you\u2019ll have the Dart\u2019s title and all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I didn\u2019t bring the title for the Chevy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo sweat!\u00a0 Just sign it and mail it to me.\u00a0 I\u2019ll take care of transferring it and everything.\u00a0 See, my wife\u2019s a Notary Public, see\u2026\u201d and he moved close to me so as to whisper, \u201c\u2026so she\u2019ll witness it and take care of everything.\u00a0 Deal?\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t see anything wrong with the deal and everything had moved so fast.\u00a0 But the car was great and the sixty bucks a month would be easy to make now that I was working three jobs.\u00a0 I said it was OK and he quickly went out to put my plates on the Dart.<\/p>\n

Once the plates were secured, he shook my hand again and handed me the keys.\u00a0 As we pulled out I gave my Chevy one last look.\u00a0 With Lou standing next to it madly waving like a child, the car looked a bit old but proud.\u00a0 It had carried us many miles since I\u2019d rebuilt it almost from nothing, and now its era was over.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

On Wednesday, December 16^{th<\/sup>, 1964, I took the oath of reenlistment in the U.S. Air Force, and by doing so, I committed to serve for another four years.\u00a0 As I walked out of the office on my way to the finance division to collect my reenlistment bonus, I buttoned up to protect my face from the cold clear air driving down from the north.\u00a0 Although it was chilly, the freshness of the breeze was reinvigorating, and I thought that Kansas would be a great place for us to spend our next four years.<\/p>\n}

My cheerful mood was shattered when I was told that my reenlistment bonus came to a total of six hundred dollars.\u00a0 Sharon and I had planned on over a thousand, and had put a lot of clothing and stuff on layaway for the boys.<\/p>\n

As I got into the Dart and started the rumbling engine, I thought that as long as we stayed together and in one place everything should work out.\u00a0 I vowed to work very hard to finally get us out of debt within the next year.<\/p>\n

But first, it was time to pay off the layaways and take a trip into Kansas City with Sharon and the boys for more Christmas shopping.<\/p>\n

Christmas 1964<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

This would be the first Christmas that I would be able to celebrate with my wife and boys since I\u2019d left for Alaska.\u00a0 This year Christmas fell on a Friday, and the Air Force squadron shut down operations on Tuesday, December 22^{nd<\/sup>, giving us a few days off before the Christmas weekend.\u00a0 Billy took the whole week off at the station, letting Randall run the day shifts, with me coming in to work the nights until the 24^{th<\/sup>, when the station would be closed until Saturday.<\/p>\n}}

I heard from John that the SPO club had made an emergency appeal to have the Goldtones play both Christmas Eve and Christmas night when most of the single petty officers (and some who had families without kids or family in the area) wanted to have a place to hang out and be entertained.\u00a0 At first, I objected, because I had been so looking forward to spending the holiday at home with Sharon and the boys and watching them open the many gifts that we\u2019d gone into hock for.\u00a0 But when John mentioned that the club was so desperate that they were willing to double our nightly fee for both nights, I found it hard to turn down.<\/p>\n

Of course, my thinking was that with the extra money and my reenlistment bonus we would be in really good financial shape entering 1965.\u00a0 All I had to do now was break the news to Sharon.\u00a0 I figured she\u2019d be a bit upset, but I had confidence that I\u2019d be able to bring her around to my way of thinking, especially when I surprised her with my plans to drive into Kansas City for a giant Christmas buying spree.\u00a0 I was also going to tell her that she could clothing shop for herself to her heart\u2019s content.\u00a0 She was always so embarrassed that she didn\u2019t have nice clothes\u2014as most of our money went to clothe the boys.<\/p>\n

As expected, she did not take the news that our band was booked very well.\u00a0 But her initial anger and disappointment soon faded away as we got closer to our planned shopping spree.<\/p>\n

On December 23^{rd<\/sup>, 1964, we got up early, fed and bathed the boys, and piled into the Dart for our giant shopping spree in Kansas City.\u00a0 The day before, I had gone to the NAS Credit Union and withdrawn seven hundred dollars to get our stuff out of layaway, and to fund any new purchases we made that day.\u00a0 I gave Sharon three hundred and fifty dollars in crisp bills for her to put into her purse.\u00a0 She looked at the money and made a cute little giggling sound as she stuffed the bills into her little wallet.\u00a0 She reached out and pulled me towards her, giving me an uncharacteristically hard and amorous hug.<\/p>\n}

\u201cI love you, honey.\u201d She whispered into me ear and she gave me a peck on the cheek.<\/p>\n

I hugged her back and told her I loved her too.<\/p>\n

It was a beautifully clear and cold day, and our excitement was at its peak as we drove onto Interstate 35 North heading for the big city.\u00a0 We\u2019d planned to have lunch somewhere in Kansas City after our shopping, and then maybe even take in a matinee movie before we headed back to Gardner.<\/p>\n

About ten o\u2019clock, while looking for a parking lot to leave our car, we pulled up to a red light at the corner of 11^{th<\/sup> and Grand Avenue.\u00a0 As the light turned green and I began to carefully accelerate through the intersection, the car made a low grinding noise and stopped its forward movement.\u00a0 The engine raced as if the transmission had shifted into neutral, and we coasted to a slow stop.\u00a0 Traffic behind me began to impatiently pass me by, a few drivers tapping their horns in their frustration.<\/p>\n}

No amount of gear shifting would make the engine engage, and soon I smelled the greasy odor of burning oil.\u00a0 Because we were going up a slight incline in the street, as soon as I released the brake we would begin to roll backward.\u00a0 Finally, I just let the car\u2019s inertia roll us slowly backward and I pulled into a parallel parking spot on the curb.<\/p>\n

After I shut off the engine, I got out and popped open the hood.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t have a clue what to look for so I just stared at the giant air cleaner and wondered what had happened.\u00a0 I looked to my right and I saw an Amoco gas station on the corner with a sign that read, \u201cAuto Towing & Repair\u201d.<\/p>\n

Gesturing to Sharon to stay in the car I sprinted across the intersection and walked into the station.\u00a0 The attendant, who just so happened to be the owner, said he had been watching me and asked if I\u2019d run out of gas.<\/p>\n

After explaining to him what had happened, he agreed to tow my car to his station for only $25, and then diagnose my problem.\u00a0 I objected to the price, pointing out that he would be towing my car across just one street\u2014a total of about fifty feet.\u00a0 He crossed his arms, almost covering his embroidered name tag that said \u201cRoy\u201d.<\/p>\n

He asked me if I had any other ideas.\u00a0 Admitting that I didn\u2019t, I agreed to his outrageous offer and went back to the car while he pulled his big white tow truck out of the garage and across the street.<\/p>\n

After sitting uncomfortably in the chilly gas station for over an hour, Roy came back in with his diagnosis.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like you blew the transmission.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTransmission?\u201d\u00a0 I asked, a bit confused.\u00a0 \u201cHow could that be, the car only has twenty-five thousand miles.\u00a0 It\u2019s practically brand new.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t know about that son, but I\u2019m telling you your transmission is shot.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, can you fix it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope!\u00a0 Can\u2019t be fixed.\u00a0 It\u2019ll have to be replaced.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYup, the whole thing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that gonna cost?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I figure I can get you a rebuilt for\u2026um\u2026two or three hundred dollars, depending on what model you\u2019re running.\u00a0 Then about a hundred for the installation labor.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFour hundred dollars?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMore or less, yeah.\u00a0 But I won\u2019t know for sure until I run the serial number on your transmission to see what model it is.\u00a0 Then, I\u2019ll have to check to see if anyone in town has one of those in stock.\u201d<\/p>\n

I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick.\u00a0 Four hundred dollars?\u00a0 That was practically all the money we had!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, what do you say?\u00a0 Want me to start calling around?\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Sharon and she had the saddest look on her face that I\u2019d ever seen.\u00a0 \u201cWhat do you think, honey?\u201d I asked quietly.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know Frank.\u00a0 I just don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the end I agreed, and told Roy to start the search.<\/p>\n

After about thirty minutes he walked back into the little station office.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s worse than I thought.\u00a0 But I do have some good news.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d I said, dejectedly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYup.\u00a0 That transmission is what they call a \u2018Police Interceptor\u2019 model\u2026and it ain\u2019t cheap.\u00a0 The good news is that I managed to locate one\u2026found it in Overland Park, and I can get it delivered here in about an hour, or so.\u00a0 The bad news is that it\u2019ll cost you quite a bit more; given that it\u2019s rare and a bit more complicated to install than a stock transmission.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow much more?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, I think an even six-hundred will cover everything.\u00a0 That\u2019ll include the tow and the transmission delivery charge.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart sank, and I just wanted to cry.\u00a0 Six hundred dollars!\u00a0 The exact amount of my reenlistment bonus that I had just received about six days ago.\u00a0 I dared not look at Sharon, but I could feel the tension in the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026I don\u2019t have much of a choice, do I?\u201d I finally said.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot if you want drive that car you don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

So, I reluctantly told him to go ahead and proceed with the repairs.<\/p>\n

As he was walking out the side door into the garage, he stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you say that car only had about twenty-five thousand miles on it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I doubt that.\u00a0 Police cars aren\u2019t taken out of service until they have well over a hundred thousand miles on \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPolice car?\u00a0 What do you mean?\u00a0 I didn\u2019t buy the car from the police department.\u00a0 I got it from Lou Werner!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLou Werner!\u00a0 He\u2019s a private dealer who lives in Kearney!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell son, pardon my saying so, but that old boy sold you a bill of goods.\u00a0 That car is\u2026was some type of police car; maybe highway patrol or something.\u00a0 Didn\u2019t you notice the paint discoloration on the car\u2019s top?\u00a0 That\u2019s where the red police light was mounted.\u00a0 Whoever took it off tried to refinish the area to hide where the light was, but didn\u2019t do too good of a job.\u00a0 Plus, the over-sized tires, the huge engine\u2026what did you think you were buying?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo how many stock Dodge Darts do you know of that have 300 horsepower engines in them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026I don\u2019t know\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh,\u201d he finally said, just before he turned away to walk back into the garage, \u201cThe car\u2019s odometer does read twenty-five thousand miles, all right.\u00a0 But, that\u2019s because it\u2019s on its second time around.\u00a0 That car most likely has a hundred and twenty-five-thousand miles on it.\u00a0 I\u2019d bet my life on that!\u00a0 Plus, sorry to tell you this, but that whole car ain\u2019t worth more\u2019n five hundred dollars\u2026new transmission or not.\u201d<\/p>\n

To be continued\u2026<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"