Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2011

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

Episode 154

Perry 

 

For the first few years of my life I didn’t really understand that I was kind of special, in that I was part of a really special group of kids, eventually called Children Of the Gang or COGs.  I didn’t know what the Gang was until I was about four years old.  My sister, Nettie, (If you haven’t figured it out, this is Perry writing.) was two years older than me, and our parents felt she needed to know about the Gang–and begin to get to know them, especially other children of Gang members.  Their discussions with her also included me.  Explanations led to trips to Grand Forks to meet the Gang, play with the (as yet to be so named) COGs, and become friends.  Nettie and I loved those trips, and soon learned to look forward to every opportunity to see the Gang and COGs.

 

We also got lessons on avoiding STS (Show and Tell Syndrome)–though our parents never used that term with us until years later.  When I was six years old Willie moved to Iron River.  I had lots of opportunities to visit him and Hardie, and they came over to Ironwood fairly often as well.  They were like big brothers to Nettie and me, and we loved their visits and ours to Iron River.

 

At some point, probably when Willie and Hardie were high school juniors and Nettie and I were ages 10 and 8, Nettie asked our parents if Hardie and Willie were lovers.  Even though I was used to being able to have just about any kind of conversation with Mom and Dad, that question seemed to be pushing the limits.  But it didn’t faze either Mom or Dad.  Dad asked Nettie, “What makes you think so?”

 

“They just act like it.  Kind of like the bigger kids around here act with their boyfriends and girlfriends.  They look at each other a lot.  I see them holding hands when they’re in our house–never out in public.  Do you think they have sex with each other?”

 

Mom said, “Yes, honey, I think they do.  When two boys’re in love, or have sex with each other, we say they’re gay.  But it’s a very private thing.”

 

“I understand, Mom.”

 

Mom turned to me, “Do you understand that, Perry?”

 

“Sure.  We can talk with each other about penises, vaginas, and sexy things, and with you and Dad, but that’s it.”

 

Nettie asked, “Can we talk to Willie and Hardie about it?”

 

Dad said, “I think so.  It may startle Hardie a little, but Willie’s part of the Gang family, and he’ll talk to you.”

 

Nettie was a bold little girl, and on the next visit Willie and Hardie got to answer some interesting questions.  The most interesting, coming from a ten year old, was, “What do  you do, since you can’t have intercourse?”

 

Nettie was content with, “We use our hands, and sometimes our tongues.”

 

That week, Nettie wanted to try it with me!  Ages 8 and 10!  In an decision that foreshadowed many more, we decided that we ought to talk to Mom and Dad.  I’m a dad now, and I hope to be a good parent along the lines of the Gang, but I’m not sure that I’m going to be ready for that question when my kid turns 10.  Well, I can’t say that Dad wasn’t fazed by the question, but he handled it well.  After a long enough silence that Nettie and I correctly interpreted as having to think pretty hard, real quick, he said, “Kids, I expected to have this conversation with you when you were a little older, but since you’ve asked the question, your mother and I need to answer it.  The answer is, quite simply, that you have to make your own sexual decisions.  We can guide you, make suggestions, answer questions, but we know from our experience, and the experience of many other parents, that trying to make decisions for you doesn’t work.  We have no way to force our decisions on you, so regardless of what we tell you, you’re going to have to make the decisions.  Do you understand all that?”

 

Nettie said, “I do.  You’re telling us that there’s no way you could stop Perry and me from going into the woods near school, taking off our clothes, and doing whatever we wanted.  And we could do it with other kids as well as each other.  So you won’t try to tell us not to do something, but you will try to help us make a good decision.”

 

Dad said, “Nettie, I can’t believe you’re ten years old.  My high school students wouldn’t have said it better.”  He turned to me, “Perry, do you understand what Nettie’s saying?”

 

I think I did, but I’m not sure.  But I sure as Hell wasn’t going to say that.  “Yes,” was the simple answer I gave.

 

Dad continued, “So, how can I help you with your problem?”

 

Nettie showed that she really hadn’t ‘gotten it’ yet by asking, “So, can we play around together?”

 

Mom said, “Do you mean, ‘can we,’ or, ‘may we’?”

 

Dad said, “It doesn’t make any difference.  The answer is clearly, ‘Yes.’  They can play, that is, they’re physically able to; and they may play, that is, they don’t need our permission.”

 

Mom said, “Do you two even come close to understanding what he’s talking about?”

 

I said, “Yeah, I do.  We wouldn’t be asking if we couldn’t do it.  We can touch each other in private places.  And you aren’t going to tell us it’s a no-no.”

 

Nettie said, “OK, I get that.  Should we?”

 

Mom said, “Now you’re asking the right question.  But you aren’t going to get a simple answer from your Dad or me.  Do you think you should?”

 

I said, “One of my friends at school says he plays doctor with the girl next door.  That means they take their clothes off in front of each other.”

 

“Do they touch each other?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do they talk about it with their parents?”

 

“Oh, no.  It’s strictly boy talk.”

 

“But you’re talking about it to us.”

 

“You two’re different.”

 

“But we aren’t helping you yet, are we?”

 

Nettie said, “Perry’s friend and the little girl aren’t hurting each other.  He’s just wants to know what a girl looks like down there.  Boys don’t really understand that girls don’t have penises, and girls don’t really know what a penis looks like.”

 

“But you two do.  You’ve been undressed together since Perry was born.”

 

“Not all kids have brothers and sisters, and a lot never get undressed in front of each other.  Julie says her mother spanked her older brother when he walked into her room to look at her naked.”

 

Dad said, “Look kids, you aren’t going to hurt each other.  But there’re a couple of important rules, if we can talk about them.  First, you don’t talk to your friends about what you do in private here.  You’re little friend shouldn’t have been talking about playing doctor, it’s private.  Julie shouldn’t have been talking about her brother getting spanked.  I know kids like to talk about things like that, but it’ll get them in trouble.  Talk to each other, talk to us, talk to Hardie and Willie, talk to the Gang, but don’t talk at school or in the neighborhood.  As you get older you’ll understand that rule more, but for now, just don’t talk when you shouldn’t.”

 

Nettie asked, “You said two rules; what’s the other?”

 

“If you kids play together, there’s one thing you shouldn’t do.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“There are a lot of words for it, fucking, intercourse, screwing.  You may have heard some at school.  It means you, Perry, putting your penis into Nettie’s vagina.  That’s how you’ll make babies someday.  You couldn’t make babies today, but you’ll be able to soon.  So don’t put your penis into Nettie’s vagina, or any girl’s vagina.  Do you both understand that, and why?”

 

“Ich.  I wouldn’t let Perry do that!”

 

“It won’t always be, ‘Ich.’  And someday you’ll want to do that.  But it’s not for children.”

 

We talked more, basically going over the whole thing several times.  That night around bedtime Nettie came into my room and said, “I think that Mom and Dad were saying that it’s OK to play around.  Can I touch you?”

 

“Sure.”  I easily took off my clothes, and she sort of shyly touched me.  It felt good, and I liked it, but I’m not sure it was erotic.  My dick did get hard, and we talked about that.  Eventually we asked Mom and Dad about that, and we got a lesson about boners.  I was kind of scared to put my finger into Nettie’s vagina, but I did–a little.  It didn’t take us long to figure out that it was more fun for both of us for me to twiddle with her clitoris–a part for which we did not then have a name.  My guess is that this fun lasted a month or so, and then we just got bored and moved on to other things.  However, over the years, we never hesitated to be sexually involved with each other at the level of play.  We never thought of it as more than that. 

 

So, I knew when Nettie had her first period about five minutes before Mom did.  And Nettie knew about my first wet dream (at least the first I became aware of) before Mom or Dad did.  That led to a talk about masturbating, and about a week later the “Aha!” moment when I figured out that what the boys at school were calling jacking off was what Dad was calling masturbating.  Father-son communication wasn’t perfect!  I remember being very frustrated that I couldn’t seem to be able to do it, even though I knew I had wet dreams.  One night I asked Nettie for help, and my first conscious ejaculation was at her hand.  Not long after that we were daring each other to taste it, and such dares were always undertaken.

 

And, yes, I did play around with some of the kids at school.  It was always one by one, never in groups, but with both boys and girls.  I could’ve brought the kids home to my house, but I was afraid that they’d talk at school and say that my parents allowed the sex play.  So even though Mom and Dad knew what I was doing, the kids I was doing it with had no idea my parents knew.  Sometimes we went to their houses after school when no one was home, and sometimes we headed to the woods, which (when the weather was warm) were perfectly safe in Ironwood.  And, yes, I always faithfully kept my penis out of all vaginas, but that was about the only thing I didn’t do.

 

Nettie knew about this, of course, but she was much less inclined to be involved with other kids.  However, one night in her senior year of high school she and Marshall, her current boyfriend, had a rather remarkable experience playing a most unusual game.  I wrote about it here and showed it to Nettie to see if I‘d gotten my facts straight.  She said, “Don’t you dare write that!”

 

“Why not, does it embarrass you?”

 

“Of course not, silly.  But when Charlie gets around to asking me to write one of his episodes, that story goes in it.  I get to tell that story, not you!”

 

I’m not about to cross my sister, so I’m sorry that you will, at least for now, miss the story of a rather funny and sexy experience.  But I’ll let Nettie tell it.

 

In December of 1996, I got a call from Auggie.  He wanted me to come down to Freeport in the Bahamas and sail with him, Charlie, and Tim.  Fred was paying the bill, and Andy was making all the arrangements, and he would be there with us.  I told him it was fine with me, but that I couldn’t speak for my parents–there was a little matter of school.  It would be in session in February.

 

Auggie called Mom and Dad and worked his magic.  I think it had something to do with the Gang mantra, “Always say yes unless there’s a good reason to say no.”  My good grades, my willingness to take work with me to Freeport, and the fact that since Dad was a teacher and coach he wouldn’t have much trouble getting me excused for a couple of weeks, eliminated any good reason to say, “No.”

 

The next thing I knew Andy was on the telephone giving me the details of my trip.  I’d be picked up by a driver from the Fred’s Sports store in Duluth and driven to the Duluth Airport.  From there I’d fly to Minneapolis, then nonstop to Miami, to Nassau, and then by the puddle jumper to Freeport.  It was the first big trip I had ever undertaken by myself.  Amazingly, I seemed to be more nervous about it than my mom and dad, who seemed to be taking this whole unusual adventure quite in stride.  Well, I was a grown-up fifteen-year-old, why should they, or I, be nervous?

 

You know, after I wrote that, I decided to ask that question of my parents.  Mom told me, “You know, Perry, I think your father and I were insanely nervous about the whole idea.  You weren’t just flying alone to the Bahamas, but you were going to be ocean sailing with crazy Auggie, who was known as a superb sailor, but also as a huge risk taker.  But we also embraced the Gang philosophy that kids needed to be allowed to spread their wings and fly.  You were ready for adventure, and it was our job to be supportive.  You didn’t need nervous parents, and you didn’t need naysaying parents.  As that whole adventure unfolded we were told by any number of our friends that we were out of our minds to permit it.  Well, as it turned out, it was the right decision.  I’ve often wondered how I would’ve felt if you’d drowned in a sailing accident off Freeport.  I hope that I would’ve stood my ground and continued to believe that it was right to let you go, even if–in the actual event–it turned out badly.  We’ll never know.”

 

Well, Mom and Dad, all I can say is that I hope I can be as good a parent as both of you have been!

 

I had no trouble on the trip to Freeport.  My parents asked me if I wanted to go as an “unaccompanied minor,” which would essentially mean that I was chaperoned by airline personnel for the whole trip.  I said, “No, thanks, I think I’m a big boy.  I’ve traveled enough with you two; I know my way around.”  It’s a good thing I didn’t want that service, because it turns out it wasn’t available for the routing through to Freeport under airline rules.  But I could travel on my own, and I did.  I had a passport from previous travel, so there wasn’t much to do to get ready for the trip.  Auggie’s instructions on what to pack were as simple as the ones given to Tim and Charlie, except that I was to bring my schoolwork.

 

I left on the first flight on a Saturday morning, and connected to the last flight to Freeport that evening.  Auggie and Goose–I think you’ve already met Goose in this story–met me at the airport.  Auggie said, “OK, Perry, once Tim and Charlie get here this is an ‘all work and no play’ vacation.  But until then we’re in play mode.  We’re going to take you for a really good dinner at a beach restaurant, and then we’ll have an evening swim before we head for bed.  By the way, Goose lives here in Freeport, so he’ll be going home after dinner.  He’ll join us in the morning.” 

 

What a night!  Great fish dinner, fresh caught, I’m not sure what they were.  Lovely swim.  Gorgeous room, with a huge, soft bed.  Surely you don’t need details; Auggie’s as great in bed as he is at the helm of a sailboat.

 

The next morning Goose and Auggie taught me how to sail hanging by a trapeze.  I thought I knew how to sail, but a 49er is a whole new experience.  Hanging out there by the trapeze is really spectacular.  The three of us sailed and sailed and sailed for four days.  Since the 49er uses a crew of two, the third person ran the little launch, where we kept supplies, lunch, and emergency gear–which we never needed. 

 

Thursday, Auggie flew back to North Dakota.  It wasn’t necessary, Tim and Charlie could’ve found their way to the Bahamas (I did), but Auggie wanted to be with them.  I learned that Auggie isn’t as risk taking as my Mom accused him of being.  He told Goose and me that we could take out the bigger boat, the Nancy, a much safer boat that he was going to start Tim and Charlie on, but not the 49ers.  And I was to get on with my schoolwork.  I did.  I did.  But Goose and I had a nice relaxing afternoon sail as well.  And a great meal in the hotel dining room.  It was charged to the room; I guess ultimately Fred’s Sports paid it, but at that stage I wasn’t really a party to the financial arrangements.  I did know that neither I, nor Mom and Dad, was paying the bill.

 

Friday Auggie was back, with Tim, Charlie, Andy, and Lynn.  You already know the story of that week, but I’ll fill in a few of the gaps.

 

First, nights with Auggie!  At first I felt so guilty that I was reluctant to even take my clothes off.  Here was Auggie going to bed with me, while Lynn was in a room down the hall, all by herself.  And they were engaged, to be married in June.  I couldn’t believe that Lynn was so calm about my sleeping with Auggie, when she couldn’t, or wouldn’t.  We all knew that she and Auggie could’ve gotten away with it, with no consequences.  But they were steadfast in the rule that sex would wait until it was legal for them, and in their case that meant when they were married, because they could be married when Auggie was 16 and otherwise they couldn’t legally have sex until he was 18.

 

OK, Charlie says that I ought to add a little disclaimer here.  Why is it my job, I was  just a kid?  Because Auggie and I spent a little time researching the “age of consent” with the thought that the rules might be looser in the Bahamas.  Well, they aren’t.  First, we learned that there are rules and there are rules.  Some are seriously enforced, and others laughed at or ignored.  Some places make no provision for two kids (any gender) to have sex together, others recognize the idea that teens are teens and are very unlikely to be totally sexually inactive.  When you’re talking about the US, states vary, and enforcement varies.  What became very clear is that in the US, and much of the rest of the world, the real taboo is adult-child sex.  What two kids do together doesn’t seem to bother people very much, although in many places two boys together or two girls together had better not get caught.  Consenting adults are pretty safe everywhere–though in some areas it’s best that they not be married, unless to each other.  So Tim and Charlie’s rule about the magic age 18 is pretty clearly the usual standard.  The exception they seem ready to allow is the period of time between 18^th birthdays of two kids of nearly the same age, when those kids started their sexual relations as kids and simply continued them.  In other words, I wasn’t going to get in trouble, with the Gang or with the law, if I had sex with Auggie in the few months between my 18^th birthday on March 21, 1987, and Auggie’s birthday on June 8, 1987.  Auggie and Lynn both insisted on following the Gang guidelines to the letter, no sex before age 18 or marriage, since almost all (but not all) jurisdictions set aside age of consent rules for married persons.

 

OK, that covers why Lynn wasn’t sleeping with Auggie.  But how could she be so comfortable with him sleeping with me?  First, she assured me that she hadn’t been sexually inactive since she and Auggie’s romance began, and Auggie was nodding his head as she said that.  And she pointed out that she and Auggie had talked about this from the very beginning, and they were both comfortable with the rules they’d established: no celibacy and no secrecy.  Lynn was simply one cool lady.

 

And, of course, so was Auggie one cool guy.  We played a lot of different games in bed, but when it came down to it, he liked to fuck me and I liked to fuck him.  And we did.  Oh, we sure did.  Nuf said.

 

It soon became clear to me that I wasn’t in the least needed on this trip, except maybe as Auggie’s sex toy.  So about the middle of the week I said,  “Look Auggie.  I need a straight answer to this question.  COG to COG, no bullshit.  What am I doing here?  You don’t need me for the sailing; you, Goose, Tim and Charlie make complete crews for two boats.  You don’t need someone from Michigan to run the launch and bring lunch.  Am I here so you can have sex?”

 

Auggie looked a little stunned by the question.  He was silent for a while, and then he smiled and answered.  “I guess I haven’t really explained the situation to you, Perry.  It’s so great to have you here, that I guess I never really explained.  The sex is great, but, honest, that’s not why you’re here.  As soon as Tim and Charlie approached me about wanting to be Olympic sailors and wanting me to teach them, I knew it was going to take a team of four: Tim, Charlie, me, and ... who?  I’ve seen you sail at Camp, and you came to mind as the fourth immediately.  That’s why I invited you and worked it out for you to be here the week ahead of Tim and Charlie.  But I came down here a few days ahead to get some lessons on the 49er, which I’d never sailed.  I assumed that I’d hire some guy from one of the marinas either in Nassau, here in Freeport, or somewhere.  When I got here, I was told that Freeport had the only 49er sailing at the time.  I got here, and very quickly was put in touch with Goose.  He’s really good as you know, and he’s available.  He likes nothing better than sailing, and is completely footloose.  Hiring on with Fred’s Sports to coach me, Tim, and Charlie was a dream come true for him.”

 

He paused a minute, and continued, “So what was I supposed to do?  Get on the telephone and call you and say, ‘Sorry, Perry, you aren’t needed.  That wonderful trip to the Bahamas that you were promised just fell through.’  I couldn’t do that.  And you have been helpful here.  We’ve done some trading off that we couldn’t have done without you, and having you in the launch is much better than some stranger.  And as much as I like Andy, you’re a lot better around a boat than he is.  That’s the completely honest, straight poop.”

 

I said, “Thanks, Auggie.  It makes me feel better.  And I sure as Hell would’ve hated to miss this trip, even it I haven’t had a lot to do.”

 

The next day I had a talk with Andy and shared the conversation with him.  I told him, “I’m here to help.  I’ll help Auggie with the sailing when he needs me; I’ll help Lynn any way I can, at least I can relieve her of carrying Auggie’s camera equipment; or I’ll help you with your support logistics if you need me.  Or I’ll sit in the sun and do schoolwork.  Or I’ll take out one of the little sloops and sail by myself.”

 

I did all of that.  It was a wonderful two weeks in Freeport, and I decided that I really didn’t give a damn if I earned my keep or not; I was going to enjoy the Bahamian sun, sand, and surf. 

 

I asked Andy about the return trip: who was going to be traveling with whom, and to where?  He had us all booked together to Minneapolis, but then I would leave the group and fly to Duluth where either someone from Fred’s Sports or my parents would pick me up.  That would be up to my parents.

 

I said, “I want to fly to Grand Forks.  I need to talk to Fred.  Can you arrange that?”

 

“Will you’re parents agree to that?”

 

“If they’ve agreed to this much, I don’t think a couple of extra days in Grand Forks will bother them.  I’ll tell them it’s important.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what you have on your mind?”

 

“No.”

 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

“I want to talk to Fred, and he should hear my idea first.”

 

My parents didn’t  fool me, but exceeded even my expectations.  I called home and Dad answered.  I told him what I wanted, and he came through with flying colors.  “Sure, Auggie; that’s fine.”  I couldn’t even get a protest out of him.  Then he said, “Why don’t your mother, Nettie, and I drive over to Grand Forks, have a chance to see the Gang, meet you, and we’ll all drive home together.  If they’ll let you out of school for two plus weeks, I guess they’ll let Nettie out for two or three days.  Your mom and I will take personal days.”

 

So, we all converged on Grand Forks.  The group from the Bahamas was due to arrive on Monday, February 17.  My family drove over on Saturday, bringing Nettie’s boyfriend Marshall along.  This was Marshall’s second trip to Grand Forks with Nettie and her family (see Episode 142-COGs), so he was ready for just about anything.  When we all arrived at the Grand Forks airport on Monday, there was a pretty big crowd to meet us.  Bernie and Beverly, who were hosting my parents, seemed to be leading the delegation.  Nettie and Marshall were there, and we learned that they were again staying at the Hideout.  Max and Milt were there, along with their parents, Tina and Merle.  I learned that I’d be staying with them.  I could tell from their welcoming kisses that Max and Milt had very definite intentions for the night, and I certainly wasn’t going to object.  I wondered how Auggie would feel, but he seemed content to be heading home with his parents.  I hated the idea that we all were going off with partners and leaving Lynn alone.  Then I saw Kevin Littleton, son of the threesome, standing off to one side.  He was now a freshman at UND, but living at home.  His explanation for the decision to live at home was that the environment was much more intellectually stimulating than anything to be found in any of the dorms.  Besides, his house rules were even less strict that the dorm rules, and UND had few if any dorm rules–other than don’t smash the furniture (and that wasn’t always followed).  Nothing was said, but Lynn and Kevin departed together, after Auggie had given both of them a little kiss.  Clearly Lynn and Auggie’s pre-18 separation was no more celibate than Tim and Charlie’s had been!

 

Max, Milt and I squeezed into the back seat of Merle’s car, with Tina riding in the shotgun seat–I think she would’ve referred to it as the passenger seat!  I wasn’t certain of the ages of Max and Milt so I started the conversation by asking, “So, how old are you guys now?”

 

Milt giggled.  “I’m 12, and Max is 14.  And we’ve talked to Mom and Dad about what can happen tonight.”

 

I thought, “Only in the Gang, and perhaps only with these two.”  Out loud I said, “And what did your mom and dad tell you could happen tonight?”  I really did wonder what Tina and Merle had answered to that.  And I knew that they were sitting in the front seat of the car, listening to every word.  I knew they were listening, because Tina was having a hard time suppressing her own giggles.

 

Max said, “Dad says that what happens between a 14-year-old and a 16-year-old is up to us.”

 

I said, “I’m only 15, does that make a difference.”

 

Merle said, “We thought you were 16.”

 

“Not for about a month.  My birthday’s March 21^st.”

 

Tina said, “That doesn’t make any difference.”

 

Milt said, “The rules with me are different.”

 

“Oh, what are the rules with you?”

 

“What happens between a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old is up to the 12-year-old.”

 

I laughed.  “Somehow, Milt, I don’t think that’s exactly what your mom and dad said.”

 

“It’s the way I heard it.”

 

I asked, “Milt, can you masturbate?”

 

“Sure, but I don’t come yet.  Soon, Perry, soon.”

 

“I think that it’s very good for me that you haven’t reached that stage yet.  Keeping you under control is going to be tough tonight, as I assume that you’ve convinced your mom and dad to let us all sleep together.”

 

Merle said, “He has.  And we trust you, Perry.  And as far as we’re concerned at 12, 14, and 15 you’re all kids, having a good time.  It’s private, consensual, not adult-child, and we haven’t asked a lawyer for an opinion as to just what’s legal and what isn’t.  We don’t think it’s any of the law’s business in this situation.”

 

We arrived at Tina and Merle’s house, and they had a pot roast, potatoes, and vegetables cooking in a big roaster in the oven.  While Tina and Merle finished getting the dinner ready, Max and Milt showed me around the house.  The Reeds lived in a perfectly lovely house they’d  had custom built.  The site had been chosen to be completely outside of the flood plain, which meant they were on the extreme edge of town, but not quite as far as Sid and Cathy’s house.  It was a spacious house, but not spectacular, except for five rooms: Merle had a perfectly lovely studio on the third flood, with skylights, spectacular artificial lighting especially designed to provide daylight tones, and lots of room for his work.  Tina had a little den off their bedroom.  It was lined with books from floor to ceiling, with a little desk and computer in the middle.  There was a specially chosen easy chair for her to read in.  A filing cabinet had been tucked into the bookshelves.  Milt giggled when he showed us that.  He took us into the bedroom closet next to the den.  It was funny; in order to make the front of the filing cabinet flush with the front of the bookshelves, it had to stick into the closet.  It made a very funny shaped closet, but a lovely arrangement in the den!  The rest of the second floor contained a study that Merle and Tina shared for all of their business except her novels and his art.  It also had a large storeroom, which could be turned into an additional bedroom if it was ever needed, and a guest room.  The boys had their own wing on the first floor.  In contained three rooms, the third, fourth, and fifth spectacular spaces in the house.  First you entered a giant playroom.  You could imagine all of the different toys that the room had held as the boys grew older.  Now it was filling with books, CDs, puzzles, and the toys of older boys.  In one corner was the most spectacular collection of LEGO pieces that I’d  ever seen.  On a table was a half-completed reproduction of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, and several pictures of it that the boys were using as a guide.  The front was pretty much complete, as was the first flying buttress.  It was easy to recognize what it would be, and interesting to contemplate what it would look like when it was finished.  Then I was taken into each boy’s inner sanctum.  They were as different as different could be, after you gave each of them a double bed and a desk.  Max’s was Scandinavian Modern–to the extreme.  All teak and steel rods, it was filled with unusual tables and chairs.  There were four game tables, with chess/checkers, go, hex (a game that Max offered to explain to me later if I wanted), and a deck of cards with poker chips.  On a bookshelf on the wall was a collection of erotic books that would make most adults blush, and rivaled that which Carl had collected for Gangland.  On the wall was a full-sized painting of a naked young man and next to it a naked young woman.  I was assured that both had been painted by Merle, at Max’s insistence.  Then he showed me his secret: The pictures were two-sided, so that he could  turn them over: On the back side of one was a picture of Bill Haley (of the Comets), and the other had Janis Joplin.  The bookshelf had locking doors.  The decor of the room could change depending on which guests were expected!

 

Milt’s room was of an oriental flavor, with Chinese silk prints, lacquered table and chairs, and a huge gong over in a corner.  While Max’s room gave you a hint of his personality (games and porn), Milt’s gave no clue to how he spent his time.  For that you’d have to open cabinets and doors.  Later that night I was invited to go poking around, and I found evidence of the most eclectic of interests: books, models, musical instruments, figures of snakes, Buddhas, and a fascinating collection of old adding machines and calculators–about which he could discourse endlessly, with fascinating details of their histories.  My quick tour told me that Milt and Max were truly special people. 

 

At dinner I asked the boys how they paid for some of the very expensive furnishings and items in their rooms.  They answered almost in unison, “The business.”

 

Tina said, “Boys I think you have to give a few more details.”

 

“We know.  Perry, we’re in the autograph business.  We run Grand Dakota Autographs.  We buy and sell autographs of anybody of note, as long as their autograph is worth decent money.”

 

“How did you ever get started doing that?”

 

“Well, you know we live around a lot of sports personalities.  We asked for a lot of autographs.  We didn’t keep any secrets, we told our uncles, aunts,  and friends why we wanted their autographs.  But they figured they’d be worth maybe a dollar or two.  But believe me, they’re worth more.  Your father’s autograph, as an Olympic gold medalist is worth ten bucks or more.  But get it on the same piece of paper as Uncle Jim’s and it’s worth fifty to a hundred bucks.  We’re past begging from our friends now.  We buy and sell by mail.”

 

“How much money does a business like that make?”

 

Merle said, “Let’s just say that all of that expensive furniture, collectibles and stuff in their rooms was paid for by autographs.  They’ve become big time.  And the funny thing is, nobody, not their customers, fellow dealers, the people they buy from, knows they’re a couple of kids.  They trade as Grand Dakota Autographs, Inc., and if a legal signature is needed, I sign–I’m their corporate secretary.”

 

“Real entrepreneurs.”

 

“You bet, but we have other things in mind for tonight.”

 

With that I was virtually dragged to the boys’ suite of rooms.  Max asked, “OK, Perry, do you prefer Scandinavian Modern or Oriental Ugly for sleeping.”

 

Milt said, “You can call my furniture what you want, but any suggestion that we’re going to be sleeping tonight should be immediately withdrawn.’

 

I headed for Milt’s room , with the big, soft bed with black lacquer frame.  Before I knew what hit me, the two boys had me stripped and pinned down on the bed while they took turns stripping.  Milt said, “First we’ll make Max gusher, then you.  Then you two can try to get me to do it.  One day I will, and the person who makes it happen gets a prize.”

 

“What’s the prize?”

 

“I haven’t figured that out, but it’ll be a good one.”

 

Well, it was clear that their parents had no objections, so the three of us started playing around with each other pretty wildly.  Max came, and Milt immediately rubbed it all over both Max and me.  At 14 Max was pretty virile, and there was a lot of semen to spread around.  Then Milt went after me with a vengeance.  He was all over me.  Max said, “Milt, pretend a snake bit him and you have to suck the wound.”  Milt got the message and went to work.  It clearly wasn’t the first time he’d sucked a dick.  I came, he drank like a thirsty man in the desert, and then we all lay back.  Max and I positioned ourselves on both sides of Milt and played with him quite a while.  He seemed to really enjoy it, and seemed to have an orgasm, but a dry one.  Sleep eventually took over.  The next morning was pretty much a repeat performance, but a little quicker, because I had something important to accomplish.

 

Lynn and Sid picked me up about 9:00 a.m. and drove me to Fred and Marty’s house.  Fred was waiting.  “I understand you have something important to talk about.  Something that you didn’t want to talk about on the telephone.”

 

“Uncle Fred, thanks for finding the time for me.”

 

“For one of the COGs.  Always.  Now, what’s on your mind?”

 

We were sitting in his living room, and Marty was there with us.  Fred asked if I’d rather Marty left, but I said I didn’t mind him being there.  Then I started in.

 

“Uncle Fred, the first thing you need to know is that I wasn’t needed in Freeport.”  I explained it just as Auggie had explained it to me. 

 

Fred acknowledged that Auggie had told him that the previous evening.

 

He continued, “By the way, I think Auggie made the right decision. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to tell you the trip was off.”

 

“That’s not why I’m here, Uncle Fred; it’s only background.  Andy was absolutely vital to the operation.  There’s a lot of support needed, and Auggie can’t be doing it.  He’s got to be sailing and teaching.  The same for Goose, who’s a really super guy and sailor.  As the next three and a half years go by, that support function is going to get more and more complicated, and more and more important.  And it’s going to require a full time manager.  As I understand Fred’s Sports right now, you can’t spare Andy full time for the next three and a half years.”

 

“Why is the support function so complicated?”

 

“The biggest thing is going to be moving the two 49ers.  The races they need to be in are spread all over the globe, south and north, Europe, Asia, and the Americas.  South Africa, too.  The boats have to move by air, by sea is too slow–you’d miss some key races.  They have to be maintained in absolutely perfect condition.  We have to move people, house and feed them,  make sure we have adequate supplies, food they like to eat, decent beds, a launch or support boat rented at every race or practice site.  It’s going to be a very complex operation.  It’ll take at least four people and a manager.”

 

“Four?”

 

“It’ll take a team of three to manage the assembly and disassembly of the 49ers, their crating and loading, unloading and uncrating, ground transportation to the airport, prompt air shipping.  Somebody has to ride with them, and the other two travel by commercial air to meet them.  It is going to require support at the current race site, and often an advance person at the next site to make hotel reservations and other arrangements.  It won’t keep five people busy all of the time, not close.  But there will be times when they’ll need five all functioning at one time.  The team needs to be five.”

 

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

 

“Yes, sir.  In the next year or two, it won’t be quite so hectic, as Tim and Charlie are actually going to try to spend a lot of time here in Grand Forks, pretending to get administrative work done.  But eighteen months before the Olympics, and I suspect more like two years, they’re going to be almost full time with Auggie, Goose, and the Freddie.  They’ll be bopping in here briefly to try to put out fires, but they’re going to sail, sail, sail.  And the support team has to be ready.  So I think the full team should be assembled now, so it can be ready when the pressure comes.”

 

Fred smiled, thought for a minute or so, and asked, “And you want to put together that support team and manage it?”

 

“Yes, Uncle Fred, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

 

“You’re about to turn sixteen.  Do you really think that a sixteen-year-old can do that job?”

 

“I wouldn’t have asked for the job if I didn’t think I could do it.”

 

“Have you talked to Auggie about this?”

 

“Not yet.  I thought I should start with you.  If you say, ‘No,’ I’ll accept that, and it won’t go beyond this room.  But I know you Uncle Fred.  You won’t say, ‘No,’ without giving a good reason.  I may be disappointed, and I may disagree, but I’ll accept your reason.”

 

“Marty, what do you think?”

 

“I think we ought to get Auggie here ASAP; shall I call him?”

 

“Please do.”

 

We chatted further about what was involved, Marty joining us after he’d  reached Auggie on the phone.  Auggie and Lynn arrived in very short order.  Fred told me to repeat everything I had suggested to him.  I did.  Fred turned to Auggie.  “Auggie, I’m going to ask you a really tough question.  I’d ask Perry to step out and let us talk in private, but he’s smart enough to figure out that I’m going to take your advice on this; that if I were going to say, ‘No,” on my own, I would’ve said it right away, which means that if I said it only after I talked to you, it would be based on what you said.  I know it’ll be tough on you to say you don’t think it would be a good idea for Perry to do this job, because you two are really good friends and fellow COGs.  But your success on one of the biggest ventures of your life depends on the right person in this support position.  Should it be Perry?”

 

Auggie never hesitated.  “Uncle Fred, I can’t think of anyone that I’d rather have do it.”

 

“No hesitation?”

 

“None.  Perry can handle anything he puts his mind to.  I’ve seen him in action.  He gets along wonderfully with Goose, and, of course, Tim and Charlie.  And that is really important.”

 

“Should we ask Tim and Charlie?”

 

“No.  I know they’ll be delighted with the idea, but we don’t ask.  We have a clear understanding that all decisions of this sort are made by me.  They don’t get involved.  I don’t want to even hint at changing that.”

 

Fred said, “Well, Perry, that just leaves a little matter of school, getting your parents permission, nothing very serious.  I assume you have all that worked out or you wouldn’t be here.”

 

“I’m sixteen on the 20^th of March.  I can legally drop out of school on that day.  On the 21^st I go to work full time for Fred’s Sports.   You have to be out of school for one year before you can take the GED High School Equivalency Examination.  I’ll do that at the first opportunity.  Passing it isn’t even an issue.  Then I can be a freshman at UND in the fall of 2000, right after the Olympics.  That’ll be just one year behind schedule, but I’ll have a life experience that none of my classmates can even dream about.  And if, by some chance, Tim and Charlie don’t qualify for the Olympics, I’ll start college in 1999, right on schedule.  No one can seriously think that I’ll learn more in two plus years of high school in Ironwood, than I will guiding Auggie, Lynn, Moose, Tim, Charlie and a support team of four around the world.”

 

Nobody did.  My parents only surprise was that I’d  convinced Fred.  Dropping out of school didn’t faze them.  Mom did say, “Oh, my.  We aren’t going to see much of you for the next few years, I’m afraid.  You have to promise to keep in touch.”

 

“Email, Mom, email.”

 

Fred asked, “Where do you expect to get your support team?”

 

“From Fred’s Sports.  There were two young men at the Iron Mountain store that used to lifeguard for Willie in Iron River.  There was also an outstanding manager at that store, but I suspect he’s been promoted.  I suspect that Curtis and Gene may still be working there.”

 

Fred got on the phone immediately and found that David McIntye, the former Iron Mountain store manager who’d  worked with Harry Wilson on the ten meter diving platform, was now a regional manager, based in Detroit.  Curtis was now the Iron Mountain store manager, and Gene was his top assistant.  I told Fred that I’d take all three of them if they were willing and Fred was willing to part with them for three and a half years.

 

Fred told me I could hire who I wanted; the Fred’s Sports system could replace as needed.

 

I’d  only met Gene and Curtis a couple of times, but they’d  impressed me both times.  Since they were a gay couple, I didn’t think they’d mind a job that would take them around the world almost nonstop, since they’d travel as a couple most of the time.  I’d  only met David McIntyre once, but Harry Wilson had spoken very highly of him.  When I asked Andy about him, he was equally enthusiastic.  So I called him up.  It was an interesting conversation.

 

“Mr. McIntyre?”

 

“Yes, this is he.”

 

“My name is Perry Weeks.  I’m from Ironwood, but I’ve been hired by Fred’s Sports to manage a support crew for Fred’s Sports new sailing team.”

 

“I didn’t know that Fred’s Sports sponsored a sailing team.”

 

“It’s new.  I can’t give you a lot of details.  Let me ask you a very personal question.”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“Are you married, or romantically attached?  Or, to put it another way, would you be interested in a job that involved almost constant travel, all over the world, for the next three and a half years?  Do a good job, and you’ll almost be guaranteed a new position with Fred’s Sports that’ll be a good promotion.”

 

“I don’t know you, and I’ve just been looking in the management directory and don’t see your name.  Is this call even close to legitimate?”

 

“Good question.  Hang up.  Call Andy.  I’ll call you back in about ten minutes.”

 

I realized immediately that his hesitation was not only justified, but the mark of a careful manager.  How many people have been caught in traps like that by all kinds of hucksters?  I called him back on schedule.  He answered, “Hello, this is David McIntyre.  And you really are for real.”

 

“Oh, yes, I’m for real.  Now, the question was, are you sufficiently footloose that you’d like to roam the world for three and a half years, courtesy of Fred’s Sports?”

 

“I sure am.”

 

“Do you remember two guys that worked for you in Iron Mountain, a gay couple named Gene and Curtis?”

 

“Sure, my only problem with them was trying to decide between them who should be manager when I left.  I finally let them decide.  They were both great young men.”

 

“Would you like to work with them on this support crew?”

 

“I sure would.”

 

“OK, you’re hired.”

 

“It’s just that simple?”

 

“I haven’t got time to make it complicated.  But there’s one question you need to think about.  I’m only 15 years old.  I’ll be 16 in a month, when this job starts.  Andy says you’re 43.  Honestly now, can you work for a teenage boss?  Is it going to strain your ego, or get in the way of taking directions?”

 

“You’re fifteen?  You don’t come across on the telephone as fifteen.  Have we ever met?  How can you offer me this job sight unseen?  Goodness, I have all kinds of questions.  How did Fred or Andy ever hire a 15-year-old to do your job?”

 

“Those are all legitimate questions.  They aren’t easy to answer.  Real quick, my Dad is Paul Weeks, the wrestler.  You met him a couple of times in Iron River when he was visiting Willie and Hardie, the divers you helped.  I met you once.  I would’ve been a kid of about eight.  I’m sure that you didn’t pay much attention.”

 

“So you’re part of that big sports crowd that surround Fred and Andy.  Isn’t Tim, the famous diver part of that crowd?”

 

“Yes, he is.  And Tim the famous diver is going to soon be Tim the famous sailor.  The sailing team that we’re supporting is called ‘Tim’n Charlie.”

 

“You’re kidding me.”

 

“Andy’s already told you I’m for real.  Now, do you think you’ll fit in, and can you work for a teenager?  Taking orders unquestioningly?”

 

“You’re going to take some getting used you, but the answer is, ‘Yes, I can’.”

 

“You’re hired.  You’re last day in your present job is March 20^th.  Make arrangements to fly to Grand Forks on March 21^st.  We go to work the 22^nd.  Andy’ll be in touch about closing out your work obligations in Detroit.”

 

I decided that I’d like to talk to Gene and Curtis in person.  I was now back in Ironwood, putting in my time at school until I could legally drop out.  Mom and Dad decided that it’d be best if I said nothing to the school before I was actually sixteen and could formally drop out.  I called over to the Fred’s Sports store in Iron Mountain and got Gene on the telephone.  I didn’t want to tip my hand, so I used Harry Wilson’s name to convince him that he and Curstis wanted to talk to me, and we worked out a time one evening when they could both be at the store.

 

The drive down Route 2 to Iron Mountain was about 125 miles and took about two and a half hours.  Dad and I set out after school and were in the Iron Mountain Fred’s Sports store by 6:00 p.m.  Dad and I remembered Gene and Curtis; Gene and Curtis remembered Dad, but not me–I’d  grown too much.  I said to the group, “Look, we’re going to go and have a nice dinner on Fred’s Sports.  My dad’ll join us because I don’t want to make him eat by himself.  If we haven’t completed our business by the end of dinner, we’ll go back to the store, Dad can shop in the store, and the three of us can continue our conversation.  Where shall we eat?”

 

There was a decent café downtown, and that’s where we headed.  When we got settled and had ordered, Curtis asked, “OK, after your call I called Andy, and he said you were legitimate, and that we should consider anything you said to be straight from Fred himself.  But just what’s your business with us?”

 

Perry said, “I have a job offer, if you’re interested.  I kind of hoped that you might be, since it’ll involve a lot of travel and you two don’t have wives and family at home to pine for, or to pine for you.”

 

“You seem to know a lot about us.”

 

“I know you’re gay, that you live together and have for at least a decade, that you’re damn good workers, and I’m hoping you’d like to work for me for the next three and a half years.”

 

“Doing what?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Of course it matters.  We have good jobs here with Fred’s Sports, we don’t want to say we’ll leave them for a pig in a poke.”

 

“Fair enough.”  I explained the details of the job; spelling it out carefully.  I noted that David McIntyre would be part of the team, but wouldn’t be their boss, I would.”

 

“You’re inviting us to roam the world with you, David, and this sailing team, for three and a half years, and get paid well for the adventure?”

 

“And get new jobs that’ll almost certainly involve a promotion when you get back–if you do a good job.  If you don’t do a good job, it won’t last three years.”

 

“When do we leave?” asked Gene.

 

“In about a month.  Can you be ready?”

 

“Who’s going to manage the store if we leave that quickly?”

 

“That’s Andy’s problem; I won’t make it my problem, and don’t you make it yours.  But you do have one problem you need to think about.  You guys are both about 30 years old.  I’m half that; I’ll be sixteen the day before you start.  Can you work for a teenager, taking orders without question, and not getting your egos flattened?”

 

They looked at each other, smiled, and both said, “Yes,” at the same time.

 

“I’m going to hold you to that.  You’re hired.  Now, we need a fourth member of the team.  Do you have the right person working for you at the store?  I really don’t want to conduct a major search.”

 

Curtis said, “Mildred Collinson.  We call her Millie.  She’s a couple of years younger than us.  Not married; no serious boyfriends that I know of.  Likes adventure.  She’s our newest assistant manager.  She’s minding the store right now; I asked her to come in because I had a feeling that we might be involved with you and unable to handle any problems that arose.”

 

Gene said, “I agree.  She’d be perfect.”

 

I said, “Let’s go hire her.”  We headed back to the store. 

 

Dad tagged along, saying, “I’m really enjoying watching you operate, Perry.   That’s the strangest job interview I’ve ever seen.  You hardly asked a question.”

 

“I didn’t need to ask questions.  I knew I wanted those guys, I just had to convince them they wanted me.”

 

I spent a little more time talking to Millie, with Curtis, Gene, and Dad sitting in.  Millie was incredulous, “You’re talking about hiring me as part of a sailing support team, to roam the world for three and a half years, beginning almost immediately.  I have no sailing experience, very little travel experience, and only three years working for Fred’s Sports.”

 

“Curtis and Gene, your current bosses, are convinced you can do the job.  They’d like to work with you.  That’s enough for me.  Did you ever meet David McIntyre, the previous store manager here?”

 

“He’s been in the store a couple of times since I came to work, but I don’t really know him.  Do I understand that he’ll be the fourth member of the team.”

 

I said, “The fifth if you count me.  The five of us’ll be doing the job.  It’ll be physical, organizational, and sometimes you’ll be not much more than a gopher (go-fer this, go-fer that) or a personal valet.  It’s our job to make sure that the sailors have absolutely nothing to worry about but sailing.  Think you can handle that job?”

 

“Yes.  And I’d love to do it.”

 

“I have to ask you a key question that I’ve asked all the others.  Can you work for a teenager, taking instructions without question?  Can your ego handle that?”

 

“If Fred trusts you with the responsibility, I can take orders, boss.”

 

“I’m just Perry, and I’ll see you soon in Grand Forks, North Dakota.  Just so you all know: I expect to assemble the team in Grand Forks on the 22^nd of March.  We’ll be there for a week or two of planning, getting to know one another, getting to know the sailors and others involved.  I’ll want you all want to think about a home base–whether you want it to remain Iron Mountain, or whether you want to move your base, and to where.  I haven’t even thought that out for myself yet, so I don’t expect you to.  After our time in Grand Forks we’ll all take a couple of weeks to wind up our personal affairs in such a way that we can be on the move full time.  The first year we should get quite a bit of time off.  The second year less so.  The last eighteen months will be constant motion, maybe no time off at all.  That, of course, assumes that Tim and Charlie make it into the Olympics.  If they don’t the job comes to an early end.  Whenever it ends, you get a month’s vacation for each year you’ve been on the job, and then Fred’s Sports will have something new for you.  Probably not as exciting, I’m sorry to say.  But I have to head off to college and actually stay in one place for four years.  It’s going to kill me.”

 

The best laid plans....  You’ve heard the story of the great flood of 1997.  At just about the time that I was assembling my team, John Adelbart was approaching Tim with the news that the year 1997 was going to bring a serious, if not a record, flood to Grand Forks.  And here I was planning to assemble my support team in Grand Forks just as they were going to be dealing with floodwater.   I did call Tim and ask him if he’d like the five of us to come and help the effort to defend the city.  He’d  said that with the National Guard, UND students–who were pitching in magnificently–and other town residents they didn’t have a shortage of labor.  There was a shortage of places to stay, and it was going to get worse when they opened the dikes.  So we were told to stay away from North Dakota.

 

So I had to change our meeting location.  It would’ve made sense to meet in Iron Mountain, or somewhere in the UP, since four of the five of us were Yoopers.  But I knew that in Iron Mountain issues at the store would distract us, and in Ironwood I’d have a hard time avoiding friends, family, school–the whole ball of wax.  We needed to get away. 

 

I decided that we’d go to Freeport.  The 49ers were still there, so we could learn what would be involved in getting them crated and ready for air shipment.  We could meet Goose.  Maybe we could get Auggie to come down and meet with us for a while.  I also thought that it’d be a good idea if the rest of the team actually learned to sail, and had at least a little experience on a 49er.  It would help them understand the effort that the sailors were going to be putting out, and why such an extensive support team was necessary.

 

My birthday came, and Mom, Dad and I went into the principal’s office to withdraw from school.  We were all afraid that it might be a little awkward, since Dad taught and coached in the school, and Mom taught there part time while she worked in the district office the rest of the time.  Since “dropping out” was considered an educational failure, we were afraid that, in addition to my being told that I was very foolish, Mom and Dad would be criticized for going along.  But Dad had insisted that they were there to support me in the decision, not pretend that I was doing it against their better judgement.

 

The principal invited us into his office and asked what he could do for us.  I said, “I’m not going to beat around the bush.  I have a job offer with Fred’s Sports, beginning tomorrow, that’s just so exciting that I can’t pass it up.  For the next three and a half years I’ve been invited to lead a five person support crew of the new ocean sailing team of Fred’s Sports.  It’ll be a more than full time job.  Next year I’ll take the GED, and I expect to go to the University of North Dakota just one year after my class here goes to college.”

 

“Hold on, Perry.  Are you telling me that the big corporation, Fred’s Sports, is going to hire you on a worldwide support team.”

 

“No, sir.  I’m the manager of the team.  I picked its members, hired them, and will be leading the team.”

 

“How old are you, Perry?”

 

“Sixteen today, sir.”

 

“It goes against everything that I’ve learned in working with teenagers to ask this, Paul, but I have to.  Is he kidding me?”

 

“No, sir.  But he’s left out a detail or two.  Fred Milson, owner of Fred’s Sports is a long time friend.  He’s known Perry since he was a baby.  Perry knows the sailors on the sailing team, has sailed with them, and asked Fred for this job.  Fred said, “OK.”

 

“Well, Perry, I’ve seen you function in this school.  I know your good grades.  I know you’re a hard worker.  If Fred thinks you can do the job, more power to you.  I wish you luck.  I’ve heard a lot dumber reasons to drop out of high school.  And I have no doubt that the GED won’t be a challenge for you, and that you’ll get to college when you say you will.  Now, one thing.  Not everything in life goes as we think it will. This may not work out.  If it doesn’t, come back here right away.  Nobody’s going to be saying, ‘I told you so,’ or giving you any kind of difficult time.  Promise me you’ll come see me if this doesn’t work out.  No, wait a minute.  Promise me that you’ll come see me from time to time over the next few years, regardless.  Keep me posted.  And when you come to visit your folks, drop by here.”

 

“Sir, I don’t really know what you say.  I expected to be lectured about the importance of school, and how dropping out was a terrible thing to do.  I can’t believe you’re are being so supportive.”

 

“Perry, not all principals are hidebound old fools.  If you think this is a good idea, and you’ve convinced your parents, who are pretty smart people, and you convinced Fred Milson, who I know is a very smart person, why would you expect your school principal to be different?”

 

“Sir, do you think lawyer jokes are funny?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“But lawyer are really smarter, and more decent, than the jokes portray, aren’t they?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, school administrators’ reputations, at least among students, are right up there with lawyers.  But neither is a fair stereotype.  You just proved it.  Thank you for being so understanding.”

 

“Thank you, Perry.  And, good luck.”

 

I wasn’t a complete fool.  I knew I was going to need it.

 

I decided that the easiest way to collect the five-person team was to rent a car in Ironwood, drive to Iron Mountain and pick up the three who live there and then drive to Detroit where David lived.  But I hit a snag right away.  Sixteen year olds, even with a driver’s license (which I could get, and did get, on my birthday, having had a learner’s permit ahead of time) cannot rent cars.  I realized immediately that that might cause problems down the road, but that it would just be one logistical issue we’d address as we needed to.  For now, I called Curtis and told him to rent a car, drive over and pick me up, and then we’d drive back to Iron Mountain and pick up Gene and Millie and head for Detroit.

 

Yeah, I could’ve had my Dad drive me over to Iron Mountain, but I realized that one of our first tasks was to make this group of five self-sufficient.  Having my Dad drive the first leg of the trip was not the way to start.  So my goodbyes were in Ironwood as I said farewell to Mom, Dad,   Nettie–then a senior in high school–and Marshall, who was with her now most of the time.  I knew that I’d be dropping into Ironwood fairly often, and that this wasn’t really a farewell.  However, we all sensed that this was a major change in my life, and in my relationship to my parents.  Most American kids don’t set out into the world at age sixteen, but there I was, heading off to Freeport in the Bahamas, and then to places truly around the world, to head a team of five who hoped to support a truly outlandish attempt by Tim and Charlie to win another Olympic medal.  What was I thinking?  What were my parents thinking when they approved of this most quixotic of adventures?  What was Fred thinking?  Was I having second thoughts?  Maybe a little.  But I realized that it was too late for that; that this was going to be the adventure of a lifetime, perhaps the most exciting period of my life–taking place while I was a teenager.  I dried my eyes, kissed my family, turned to Curtis and said, “Let’s go.  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

 

In the car Curtis was quiet for a while, and then he asked, “That was tough, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I wouldn’t have had the guts to undertake this job as a teenager.  You’re a remarkable man, Perry.  I think this whole thing’s going to work out well.  I’m really excited.”

 

“Thank you, Curtis.  So am I.  Let’s go tilt at some windmills.”

 

“Perry.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I think maybe we ought to bury the Don Quixote imagery.”

 

“You’re right.  Considered it buried.  On to Freeport.”

 

To be continued...

 

Posted: 05/20/11