Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality

 by: Charlie

© 2005-2011

 

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Episode 161 

Elsie 

 

Let’s back up a little bit.  This is Carl, skip the “e” on the end; Carl, Tim’s brother.  One afternoon Dad dropped by my office at the top of The Carl and said, “Do you know what your crazy brother’s doing?”

 

“Not the slightest idea.  Clearly you do; clearly you think it’s nuts; and from the smile on your face, you think it’s not too bad an idea even if it is nuts.”

 

“Am I that transparent?”

 

“Definitely.  Well, what is he doing?  And has he sucked Charlie into it along with him?”

 

“Oh, very definitely.  Charlie is part and parcel of the idea.  They’re going to win Olympic medals in the 2000 Olympics.”

 

“Just like that, they’re going to win Olympic medals?  And Tim being Tim, he won’t talk about whether its bronze, silver or gold, but you know that he damn well expects it to be gold.  So, since Charlie doesn’t dive, nor is he a gymnast, nor does Tim have much of a clue about shooting a bow and arrow, just what sport are they planning to conquer?”

 

“Sailing.”

 

“Sailing?”  I don’t know much about Olympic sailing, but I suppose I will over the next few years.”

 

They’ve got Fred and Fred’s Sports behind them and they’ve hired Auggie to be their coach.  They’re going to conquer the world in some kind of two-man sailboat called a 49er.”

 

“I thought 49ers were football players.”

 

“Evidently they’re also boats.”

 

“So why are you here telling me this?”

 

“No particular reason.  I was taking a walk, and I like an excuse to take a break from walking and visit you here.  The view from this office is magnificent.”

 

“It’s not going to stay that way.  There’s a Hell of a lot of snow up in the hills.  I think this may be the year of a big flood.”

 

“How’s business going, Carl?”

 

“Great, Dad.”  I called over to Dirk, my lead architect who had the other office on the top floor.  “Dirk, you free?”

 

“Sure.”  We walked over to Dirk’s office.

 

“Show Dad your sketches for the Starr Library.”  Dirk laid out about a dozen sketches he’d put together for our presentation to the University of California for the C.V. Starr East Asian Library.  “We were just selected as architects for this project.  It’s a huge feather in our cap, and our first major commission outside the Midwest.  Dirk’s going to be the lead architect.”

 

“I’m impressed. I guess I’m supposed to be.  Dirk, congratulations, it looks like you guys are moving into the big time.  How did you ever get this commission?”

 

“It was an open competition, based mainly on past work and preliminary sketches for the new building.  Since we were selected, they’ve changed the rules somewhat.  The building is in the central area of the Berkeley campus, and they’ve decided that there must be an architectural unity to the area.  So we’re working with gray granite, with a hip or gable roof made out of red tiles.  The building’ll have to distinguish itself on the inside, not the outside.”

 

Dirk said, “It’s going to be an interesting challenge.  I’ve worked on small libraries, but this one’s unique.  We’re still learning about the issues involved–particularly the implications of having so much material in non-Roman alphabets.  We really don’t know whether that has architectural implications or not.  And, of course, the growth of electronic media means a major reshaping of library services and the libraries themselves.  I think that that’s one of the reasons we got the commission.  Carl made the key presentation where he talked about the listening process that we’d go through before we drew the first drawings.  He went through a litany of our successes at meeting the challenges of housing new technologies.  Our record of “on time and under budget” was pretty well documented as well.  We know that influenced the Starr family, who are putting up a big chunk of the money.”

 

“I’ll bet the big boys in Chicago and the coasts weren’t happy to see you guys from North Dakota beat them out.”

 

“That’s an understatement.  But we’re beginning to get recognized.”

 

When we got back to my office, Dad said, “Let’s go to lunch.  I know there’re good places to eat around here.”

 

“Why don’t we go over across the river to the Bar and Grill?”

 

“You mean the greasy spoon?”

 

“Dad, it’s not a greasy spoon. Mac’s specials are delicious.”

 

“I’ll agree that he makes a great soup.  I’m not that fond of his sandwiches.  I’ll have soup and a burger.”

 

“No wonder you think the Bar and Grill’s a greasy spoon.  Burgers are the epitome of greasy foods.”

 

“You get your poison any way you want, and I’ll get mine in a burger.  Let’s go.”

 

“Shall we walk over?  It’ll take about a half-hour.  We could get a taxi back.”

 

“I hate walking across the Gateway bridge, the sidewalk is so narrow.”

 

“But the view is interesting.”

 

“Oh, Hell, Carl; you walk when you like, but let’s drive today.”

 

“OK.”

 

At lunch our conversation continued.  I said, “So tell me about this sailing business.”

 

“As I get it from Charlie, your little brother decided that it’d be nice if he and Charlie won an Olympic medal as a pair.  I’m not sure who dreamed up sailing, but evidently Auggie being available to teach them to sail is what sent them in that direction.”

 

“They both sail.  Learned at camp.  But I guess high level competition is totally different.”

 

“Auggie is taking them off to the Bahamas for their first lessons.”

 

“This sounds serious.”

 

“Oh, I think it is.  Have you ever known your brother to do anything halfway?”

 

“Not exactly.  This is going to be fun to watch.”

 

“I think I may be getting too old for this kind of thing–even as a spectator.”

 

“Let’s see. Just how old are you? Gee, you’re seventy-seven this year.  That’s not that old.”

 

“Carl, remember that episode of little strokes I had just before you and Carol were married?”

 

“Of course.  We were worried to death for a while.  We wanted to postpone the wedding, but you threatened to have an even bigger stroke if we  did.”

 

“I made the right call.  But I had a couple of episodes earlier in the week.  I’ve talked to the doctor, and he doesn’t think it’s serious.  But my days are numbered.  Nothing dramatic; there’s been no, “You have just six months to live,” kind of thing.”

 

“What can you do about it?”

 

“There’s nothing to treat.  I just live with the knowledge that something could happen at any time, but perhaps not for years.  I’m telling you because I think you should know.  But I’m not telling Tim or Charlie.”

 

“Dad, our family has always been a no-secrets family.”

 

“I know, Carl, and it hurts a little.  But you and I both know that if he hears this Tim’ll stop his new quest for gold so that he isn’t far from home.  I’ve talked to Auggie; this quest for gold is going to take them around the world, sailing in all kinds of ports.  So the information about my health is for your mother and me, and you and Carol.  And that’s it.  Promise me.”

 

“OK, Dad.  If’s your call.  If something happens I hate to think that I’m going to have to admit to Tim that I knew this and didn’t tell him.”

 

“He’ll believe you when you tell him you had to promise me.  And it’s in the letter that I’ve written to you both–to be opened on my death.  I’ve had such a letter since Charlie came into our lives.  It gets revised every year or so–but I’ve kept all the old ones.  Someday you’ll read them all, and you’ll see how different things have been important to me as the years have rolled by.  Right now, what’s important to me is that you and Tim, and Carol and Charlie, keep on with your lives and not be distracted by worries about your parents.  But, Carl, we know that you’re the more settled of the two of you, so that’s why I’m telling you and not Tim.  When this Olympic quest is over, success or failure, then it’ll be time to share the secret with Tim, and with the entire Gang.”

 

“I love you, Dad.  It’s going to be tough to loose you, but I guess that’s just the way the world works.  But the thought that you and Mom won’t be there forever is almost more than I can deal with.”

 

“Carl, most people have to bury their parents.  It’s sad, but it’s the way of the world.  The people that you have to feel sorry for are the parents that have to bury their children.  Think of Tom’s old girlfriend, Julie, or really, think of her parents.  That’s the tough position to be in.  We don’t really understand the reasons behind this world, but we all have a role to play.  We come upon the stage, act our parts, and leave.  As I look back, to find meaning in the time I spent here, I have to look at you and Tim, and your children.  And even though it’s seldom spoken of, I know that Max is my biological grandson, just as much as Nels and Bert are.  I know that I’ll live on through them.  That thought makes it a lot easier to face my own end.”

 

“Dad, your end is a long way away.”

 

“Carl, that’s just wishful thinking.  It could come tomorrow for me, or for you, or for Tim, or Max, Nels, or Bert.  We don’t know.  I don’t know that I’ve said anything too important to you in the last few minutes.  But I’m glad that we had this chance to talk a little.  I want you to know your mother and I love you, and we love whom you have become, we love your wife and your children.  You, and Tim, have made us unbelievably happy.  Don’t be saddened by my passing, but know that I move on, to who knows where, happy and content.”

 

“You’re right, saying the end is a long way off is meaningless.  I think that I should just say thank you.  Thank you for what you just said, and for everything that you’ve done for me throughout my life.  And I know for a fact that Tim feels the same way.  We both believe, and we’ve talked about it to each other and to our spouses, that we’re the luckiest kids in the world because we had the best parents of all.  And we’re both very serious about that.”

 

“Thank you, Carl.  Now, you’re the one who’s famous for not liking maudlin speeches, exactly like these.”  He paused.  “This burger’s great.  I take it back, this isn’t a greasy spoon–just a greasy burger, exactly the way I like them.  And if that makes me die sooner, know that I died a contented man.  And don’t every serve me one of those soy burgers, or veggie burgers, or whatever they’re called or made of.”

 

“That’s an easy promise to make.”

 

That evening I shared the conversation with Carol, and we were both concerned that Dad might be making light of a more serious health problem.  We talked to Mom, and she told us that she just didn’t know.  The doctor wasn’t making a big deal of it, but she couldn’t tell whether it was because he really didn’t think it was serious, or whether there was no point of making it seem serious, even if it was, since there was no way to treat it.  Dad simply was going to have to live with the fact that little strokes sometimes foretell big ones and sometimes they don’t. 

 

It bothered me not to tell Tim, but I understood why Dad had insisted on my promise, and it was a promise that I had no choice but to keep.

 

I’ve gotten sidetracked from the story I wanted to tell, which is about my architectural firm, Carl and Associates.  You know, when I first came to North Dakota I worked for Ford and Synder, located in Bismarck, it was the top firm in the state.  Ford and Synder had been architectural students together, and had formed their firm when they graduated.  They’d been very successful, and I enjoyed working for them.  We parted friends, and Carl and Associates has handled matters for them from time to time in Grand Forks, and they’ve done the same for us in Bismarck.

 

Regrettably they didn’t have success in grooming one or more of their staff architects to manage the business.  When they were ready to retire they were very uncomfortable about who would manage the firm–and its continued success was the key to their own comfortable retirement.  So they approached me with their problem.  They asked if I wanted to buy them out, but they made it clear that they really didn’t expect that.  What they really wanted was to merge the firms, with them retaining a share of ownership that would provide for their retirement.

 

I was willing to talk about that sort of an arrangement, and discussions continued.  The first issue on the table was to judge the relative value of the two firms, in order to determine what share of the final ownership would go to Ford and Synder.  An architectural firm doesn’t really own anything tangible–maybe a building, desks, etc.  Its two key assets are its staff and its client base.  The value each of these contributes is basically measured by total billing.  When I left Ford and Synder they had a staff of 22 and were billing about $ 8,000,000 a year.  They’d grown to a staff of 24 and were billing just over $ 10,000,000 a year.  They knew I’d been doing very well, but were staggered to learn that my staff was now 47, including 18 professional architects, draftsmen, and clerical staff.  We billed $ 52,000,000 in 1995, and $48,000,000 the year before.

 

Ray Ford looked at those numbers and told me, “Carl, I had no idea you were that successful.  It’s a wonder that there’s any business left for John and me in North Dakota.”

 

I told him, “Ray, most of our billing is large projects outside the local area.  I really doubt that we do as much business in North Dakota as you do, based on what I remember about your workload when I worked for you.  Here’s what I’ll do for you.  You’re billings are about 17% of the total.  I’ll give you a 10% equity in Carl and Associates that is direct ownership that you can pass along to your children or heirs.  In addition, I’ll give each of you 5% as a retirement package; so you’ll each take 10% of our profits each year, of which you can pass on 5%.  Based on last year’s billing, that would mean just under a million dollars each, and it looks like it’s likely to go up each year.  Furthermore, our pay scales are higher than yours, so all of your staff are going to get substantial raises as we bring them up to our scale.”

 

“Carl, you can’t do that.  That would just about double our income as we enter retirement.  We knew you were smart when we hired you, and we were damn sorry to lose you, but we had no idea you were doing business like this over here in Grand Forks.  But you can’t afford to be that generous.”

 

“Well, that’s the deal. It’s take it or leave it.  I can’t shrink the numbers just to make you guys feel better.  But you need to understand, this is good business for me.  Your shop is known as a top level firm in North Dakota.  My taking over will be a feather in my cap that will pay off well as I seek to expand the North Dakota part of my business.  And with you two having a major stake in my success, you’re going to be singing my praises with your former clients, friends and colleagues all over North Dakota.  And there are two more things:  You hired me at a crucial time in my life, and gave me plenty of room to grow professionally.  That opportunity has been crucial to my success.”

 

“And the other thing?”

 

“We parted friends.  A lot of people in your position would’ve been very resentful of my leaving and setting up my own shop.  You were gracious and supportive, and we’ve worked together over the years.  Don’t think I haven’t appreciated that.”

 

“You told us exactly what you were going to do when we hired you.  I think you spelled it out in your first interview.  Why would we resent your doing what you said you were going to do?”

 

“You’re talking like the solid respectable business owners you’ve always been.  But, believe me, you aren’t typical.  A lot of people in your position wouldn’t have been listening in that interview, and even if they had been listening, would’ve resented my leaving.”

 

“Well, we have to accept your offer.  When do you want to make the changeover?  How long do you want us to continue to work?”

 

“To the first question, the sooner the better.  To the second, as long as you want.  Since you’ll be getting 10% of our profits off the top, we’ll pay you 40% of commissions you bring in and do the work, for as long as you want to work.  On commissions that you bring in for other architects to work, you’ll just get the 10% of the firms profit on those commissions.  I’ll get my attorney to sit down with your accountant and attorney and get all of this in writing.  We’ll sign it as soon after as possible.  I want to keep your names on the door in Bismarck, so we’ll call the Bismarck office ‘Ford and Synder, in association with Carl and Associates’.”

 

I needed to find a manager for my new office.  I was glad to have Ray and John continue on as architects, but I had to be making management decisions, and that meant that I needed to have my own person running the place.  The obvious choice was Dirk, but I really didn’t want to loose him from the office next to mine in the penthouse.  We worked well together, and did some of our best work jointly.  But it wouldn’t have been fair to Dirk not to offer him the job.  And just as I thought he would, he turned me down.

 

One of the things of which I was most proud about Carl and Associates is the fact that my associates stayed with me.  All of the first group that I’d hired when I opened up in Grand Forks were still on the staff, and were now seasoned, experienced architects–most with a speciality and their own following.  The same was true for most, not all, of course, of the more senior architects that I’d hired in my second wave of hires.  Clerical staff and draftsmen had moved on, but not at the rate you find in many shops.  Good pay helped, but I believe that a very pleasant and supportive work environment and challenging tasks were the key to success.

 

But I was the manager.  I had an office manager, but I managed the architectural work.  Dirk was number two, but I did most of the managing.  Now I had to try to guess who on the staff might make a good manager for the Bismarck office.  I quickly realized that I hadn’t been a very good delegator, and didn’t really know who could be a good manager.  After some very careful thought, discussion with Dirk, and a little guesswork, I called Preston Wiggans into my office.  Preston had been with me from the beginning; I knew he was a talented and loyal employee, and my observation of him suggested he could manage the Bismarck office.  We talked a while about the job, and whether he’d like to move to Bismarck.  He’d grown up in South Dakota, and Bismarck would be nearer to his hometown.  He thought that he’d enjoy the move there.  He hadn’t married, so he didn’t have family that would be disrupted by the move.  I offered him the job, and he took it immediately.

 

Well, we all make mistakes judging personnel from time to time, but this certainly wasn’t one of those times.  Preston said he could pack his bags and be ready to go in two days!  He’d simply take the projects he was working on with him–they were from all over the Northern Tier and points west.  I couldn’t believe his enthusiasm.  I sent him over to Bismarck to get the lay of the land and plan his move.  He spent two days there, meeting everyone in the office, including Ray and John.  His report back was that the Ford and Synder office was well-run, a little stodgy, very conservative in its design, and would be an interesting challenge.  “I don’t think that I’m going to change the way those guys (the senior architects are all men) work, but there’s a lot of room to bring in a younger team to move out and do creative stuff like we do here.  I think that the Ford and Synder office of Carl and Associates can become the biggest competitor of Carl and Associates.”

 

Oh, man, did I love the guy.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  I realized that I had a dynamo on my hands, and that I’d missed it for two decades.  Well, that’s not completely true.  Preston had done good work, brought in good commissions, and was well-respected.  But this fellow seemed almost a different person.  He was ready to go, and I let him go.

 

And, guess what.  That office is our biggest competitor.  Preston had been there less than two years when he dropped by my office in The Carl and told me, “OK, you guys over here work in the most wonderful building one can imagine for architects.  Give me the plans, I want to build a carbon copy over in Bismarck.”

 

There was only one problem with that: I couldn’t share the plans for the fourth floor.  That’s where Gangland was hidden!  But that was also where Peter’s office (Truss Designs, Inc.–see Episode 82) was, so the fourth floor would need a complete redesign.  In the actual case, we decided that we didn’t need as big a building in Bismarck, so The Preston (my idea; not his, but he loved it) was simply a four storey version of The Carl–missing the fourth floor!

 

When we had our grand opening for The Preston, Ray Ford came up to me, all smiles, and said, “When I hired you, way back when, I had no idea that I was establishing my retirement fund.  My ten percent share of all this is double what I earned when I was working a sixty hour week as an architect.  Where did you find Preston?”

 

“He’s an Iowa State grad that I stole from a small firm in Des Moines that didn’t know what they had and weren’t promoting him.  He jumped from grunt work to my Senior Staff overnight.  Of course, when I hired him I didn’t have any work for him, but I had the balls to think that I’d find it.  I did.  I kept him busy, and it wasn’t long before he was keeping himself busy.  Honestly, when I sent him over here I wasn’t sure he’d make the leap to being a manager, but he has, hasn’t he?”

 

“Working in the office you don’t have any sense that he’s ‘The Boss.’  You just know that he’s moving in the right direction and you’d better be on the train.  He’s really good.  And when I asked him where he learned to be a good manager, you know what he said?”

 

“I’ll bet you’re going to tell me.”

 

“He said, ‘I’ve been watching Carl for twenty years.’”

 

“I knew I liked that kid.  Always have.”

 

“Well, Carl, how does it feel to be one of the most successful architects in America, maybe the world?”

 

“You exaggerate.”

 

“The Hell I do.  Oh, yeah, don’t you think it’s time to take John’s and my names off the door, and just be Carl and Associates?”

 

“No, Ray, I don’t think it’s time.  You and John created this office, brought me in, sent me on my way to personal success over on the river, and can take full credit for what has grown here.  I didn’t send Preston over here to start an office, but to build on success..  He’s been incredibly successful, but neither he nor I will forget where it started.  It’ll be Ford and Snyder over here as long as I own this business; and I’m not looking for early retirement–I’m having too much fun.”

 

“Thank you, Carl.  You’ve been incredibly kind to me.  And don’t think John and I don’t know that you could’ve crushed our business if that was what you wanted.  But that isn’t who you are, and I think I can take credit for seeing that when I first met you, and you did your first of many snow jobs on me.”

 

“It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

 

“Indeed it has.  You must have fun watching that son of yours win Olympic medals.”

 

“I sure do.  Nels didn’t get his dedication to that from me.  That comes from my brother Tim.  They’re both nuttier than fruitcakes.  Spending hours at a time practicing gymnastics isn’t my idea of fun.  But they’d rather be doing that than anything that other kids call play.”

 

“There is something intoxicating about knowing you’re the best, especially when you’re talking about being the best in the world.”

 

“I think you’re right.”

 

So, while your attention has been directed to Nels, I’ll provide an update.  The Cavers have spent a lot of time recently talking about their futures.  As a group they plan to live in Grand Forks, and are waiting for Shel to turn 18 and then they all will join the Gang.  Most of them live in the house next door to The Hideout, along with Willie and Sally as well as Hardie, who’s now married to a Caver, Connie.

 

The announcement by Willie and Hardie that they were retiring from competitive diving pushed the Cavers to think about their lives for the next four years and whether they wanted to devote them to another Olympics.  The nine original Cavers, including Nels, jointly decided that it was time to retire from gymnastics.  It was time to move on with their lives, and let a new group of Cavers see if they could keep the Marty Center at the top of the American gymnastics heap.

 

The new group was led by Dylan, Julie, Lorrie, and Tyler, and four others whom Marty had recently invited to join.  He and the parents of the Cavers had pretty much agreed that joining the Cavers required the full cooperation of parents with the (non)rules of the Cave, and so the tradition had continued.  Marty confided in me that he was quite convinced that there would never be another group like the original nine Cavers.  They were just too good, too exceptional to be duplicated.  But the four (Dylan, Julie, Lorrie and Tyler) in the second and third groups of Cavers, now the natural leaders, were good, and all of them had a good chance of making it to the Sydney Olympics if they continued working their asses off.  Marty continued, “Carl, the big ‘if’ is whether they’ll continue to work without the leadership of Nels and Seth.  Those two guys were the heart and soul of the Cavers, and we’ll just have to see how it works out without them.  Regardless, I think we’ll continue to dominate club meets.”

 

Carol and I were very interested, not really concerned, but interested, in what was going to be next for Nels and Mary.  Both of them were Seniors at UND, and they were talking about getting married, but hadn’t set a date.  The date didn’t really make much difference since they were living together at The Lighthouse and might as well have been married.  It was a different world than Carol and I grew up in–though Carol and I’d played by rules that were closer to our children’s than those our parents lived with as young adults.  We didn’t see any problems with the changed sexual rules and conventions.  We did see a lessening of the willingness of kids to take responsibility for their actions.  But while that may have described kids in general it did not, thank goodness, describe the COGs.  It says a lot about my father’s guiding principles of child rearing:  freedom, responsibility, and support.

 

Nels was smart; so was Mary.  They’d done well academically at UND, in spite of the fact that they spent huge amounts of time at their gymnastics.  Nels had graduated with a 3.9 something GPA, having gotten one B is some course or other.  Mary had a 3.98.  It meant that they’d both graduate summa cum laude, but neither would be the class valedictorian.  That honor would be shared by Lucy Stone (the Caver) and Bob Carson.  Also in the class, and also summa cum laude (which at UND required a 3.7 GPA) was Nick Downing (still another Caver). 

 

It’s worth just a comment on Bob.  You remember his story about living in the shadow of his brother, Willie, and feeling guilty that he didn’t compete with Willie as he might have?  Well, here he was, the little kid who moved in the shadow of his big brother delivering one of two valedictory addresses at his graduation.  He talked about growing up in the shadow of a superachieving father and brother, and how he’d learned to cope with it.  He’d made sure that Jenny Borders and John Egans, teacher and principal of Central High School, had been invited and were in attendance.  He singled them out, insisted that they stand, while he gave them full credit for helping him be himself rather than Willie’s little brother–without telling the details of the story!  And that led into the theme of his speech, that everyone had to discover themselves, and be themselves, as they headed into life.  With the personal touch, and an important, yet different, point, it was exceptional as a graduation speech, and he got standing applause.

 

He was a tough act to follow, but Lucy Stone was up to the task.  She admitted right off the bat that she was one of those damn superachieving kids that little brothers and sisters simply had to hate.  Everybody knew that she’d never gotten less than an A at the University or she wouldn’t have been giving the valedictory, and they knew she possessed four Olympic medals, including  two golds and two silvers, because she’d had Bob hang them around her neck when she stood up to speak.  And then she talked about the responsibility that went with success.  Not just the responsibility not to rub it in on others that did less well, but the responsibility not to waste it.  Then she reminded all of the graduates present that on a world scale they were the all superachievers.  Many kids who went to high school didn’t finish.  Many that finished didn’t go to college.  Many that went to college dropped out.  Getting the degree was a real achievement.  And that was just in terms of America.  If you factored in the entire world, being a college graduate was an incredible achievement.  She reminded them that the luck of their birth was a major contributing factor, but that, even with that luck, getting this far was a significant accomplishment.  Now it was their responsibility not to waste it.  She also got standing applause. 

 

I sat in the audience and watched Tim glow as these two young people, both destined to be members of the Gang, and both raised in the atmosphere of the Gang or the Cave, perform so well, after having achieved a grade point average that was, before Tim and the Gang arrived, achieved approximately once every four years by a single student. 

 

The day after graduation Nels and Mary asked if they could have some time with her parents, Tim and me, with Carol and Charlie invited as well.  We had a feeling that they were about to either tell us about marriage plans or their vocational plans–if they actually had vocational plans after all the time they’d invested in gymnastics.

 

Their plans were breathtaking.  They wanted to establish a club program like Marty’s in three Olympic sports: archery, cycling, and fencing.  Those were three individual sports that they felt would lend themselves to the North Dakota environment, although they realized that the winters might mess up their plans for cycling.  They wanted to do for those sports what Marty had done for gymnastics.

 

“But you two don’t know anything about archery or fencing, and you don’t know much about cycling except how to balance on a bike and take a little ride.  How are you going to run those programs–at the high levels that I’m sure you have in mind?”

 

“We’re going to provide the management, and much more the love and support.  We’ll hire the technical expertise.  And that’s why we’re here, Uncle Tim; we need an infusion of capital, and we know that Fred has made money available to support members of the Gang.”

 

Tim didn’t blink.   He simply said, “OK, but I expect an Olympic medalist by the 2004 Olympics in at least one sport, and preferably all three.  That’s your goal.  Think you can make it?”

 

“We’ll damn well try,” said Nels.

 

“You’ve got to do better than that,” said Tim.

 

“Yes, dammit, at least one medal in 2004.”

 

“Deal,” said Tim. “But we have to have a very serious conversation about your plans.”

 

Nels asked, “It sounds like you have some reservations, Uncle Tim.”

 

“I do, and you need to think about them very carefully.  If we look at your experience at the Marty Center, where you and your fellow Cavers have been truly remarkable in your success, just exactly what do we credit your success to?  Talent, coaching, or the unique atmosphere of the Cave?”

 

“All three,” said Nels.  Mary nodded agreement.

 

“OK, I’ll give you that.  And talent and coaching can always be found.  But note the word unique in talking about the atmosphere in the Cave.  By definition something that’s unique is one of a kind and can’t be replicated.  The nine of you coming together in the Cave, with nine sets of supportive parents, was pure serendipity.  I’m afraid that you may be pinning your plans on repeating that.  In fact, when you say that love and support are going to be your contributions to the program, it makes it clear that you’re hoping to recreate that unique atmosphere, and recreate it three times in three different sports and venues.  Let me just tell you, it ain’t going to happen.

 

“To begin with, Marty’s been incredibly lucky that he’s been able to keep the sexual aspects of the Cave hidden from public view.  But as the Cave grows, and more and more gymnasts are invited to join, eventually your single locker room is going to be exposed, and it is very possible that the shit will really hit the fan.  Are you two hoping to recreate it three times over?”

 

Nels said, “OK, I see where you’re going, Uncle Tim.  No, quite honestly the sexual aspects of the Cave simply cannot be the basis for additional programs.  But we believe that we can build love and support, and a loving group dynamic without the nudity and sex.  I don’t believe that sports success goes only to those who expand sexual boundaries.  But I do think that your ‘love and support’ is a key to success in sports and in life.  It’s too easy to take that word love and make it equal to sex.  We’re going to have to explore other ways to express love and support.  That’ll be Mary’s and my challenge.”

 

Charlie said, “OK, kids, that was well said and well thought out.  It’s going to be very interesting to see how this works out.  What’s your timetable?”

 

“We want to find three coaches this summer and have them in place in the fall.  We hope to negotiate using the archery facilities at the club where you practiced, Uncle Charlie.  We’re going to have to find a clubhouse some where that can be the cycling base and house the fencing.  I think it’ll have to start in one of the industrial warehouses on the edge of town.  If things go well we’re going to have to build a velodrome, hopefully on a basis similar to the Fred, but that is a ways down the pike.  We’re sure we can rent the facilities we need in town this summer.”

 

Well, they found their venues and their three coaches.  A major advertising campaign in August and early September of 1997, generated 15 cyclists, 7 archers, and 16 fencers.  Except for the fact that all kids can ride a bicycle, there wasn’t a single experienced athlete in the bunch.  The fees wouldn’t pay for the three coaches, much less provide an income for Nels and Mary, but they weren’t deterred.  They considered 38 paying club members as they opened the doors to be a wonderful start!  We loved their optimism, and wished them well.  Luckily, Fred’s Sports had long since moved beyond being a marginal operation, and it dumped money into the Gang’s fund at a rate vastly faster than Tim and Charlie could dream up ways to spend it.  They talked with Fred and he concurred that this was a fine way to drain the fund, but the fact was that the way Fred had set it up, money poured in faster than even Nels and Mary could spend it.

 

In fact, Fred was so intrigued with the idea that he visited me one day and said, “Design Nels a velodrome.  See if you can’t build in fencing and archery facilities as well.  Do it right, Carl.  I know it goes against your grain not to have extensive talks with Nels about this, but I don’t want him or Mary to know what’s up.  I want complete plans and a beautiful rendering prepared, to present to Nels and Mary at the appropriate time, and I don’t have the slightest idea when that’ll be, or how soon it’ll be.”

 

“I know what Nels is dreaming.  I can design to those dreams.  But it isn’t going to be cheap, Fred.”

 

“Carl, you have no idea how much money rolls in to Fred’s Sports.  We are huge and getting huger [is that a word?].  Profit margins are thin, but the gross is staggering.  Andy’s opening new stores all the time.  We’re expanding overseas.  It’s breathtaking.  A velodrome here, a ridiculously overfunded sailing team there, it hardly makes a dent.  Fred’s Sports has remained a privately held corporation.  All of the voting stock is held by members of the Gang, and that includes the discretionary fund that Tim and Charlie control.  Of course, the university endowment holds quite a bit of non-voting stock.  The money just rolls in.”

 

“Fred, except when you get in moods like this and want to spend extravagantly on dear friends, no one would know that you have more than a middle class income.  Steaks at Dakota House are high on the hog for you, you drive a four-year-old Buick, you live in a very ordinary house.  How have you resisted acting like you owned the world?”

 

“I’m careful never to pinch myself, Carl.  I like my world the way it is, and I’m very careful not to let it change too much.  But you need to know something.  Marty’s never made a nickel from the Marty Center although it does pay him a salary, and Nels is never going to make a nickel from this new venture of his.  Who the Hell cares?  The Marty Center has created a new level in gymnastics, they have permanently enhanced the lives of dozens of kids, including your Nels.  It’s been worth every penny to me.  I had to bang Marty around a little–figuratively of course–to get him to see that he was a success even if he didn’t make money at the center.  Nels and Mary are going to have to learn the same lesson.  It will come.  And I’ll be there to teach it, don’t worry.  And don’t worry about what happens after I’m gone; my estate and Fred’s Sports are set up to keep things going without me.”

 

“Nels has no idea how lucky he is.”

 

“Not true.  Nels is one smart cookie, and he knows exactly how lucky he is.  And he took that graduation speech to heart; he knows who he is and he isn’t wasting it.  I love him for it.  Oh, yes, that reminds me.  Nels is twenty-one years old now, and a college graduate.  Mary, too.  I think Marty and I would love to have them over for dinner and perhaps a little hanky-panky.”

 

“I can’t speak for either of them, but it’d totally surprise me if they didn’t think that was a simply wonderful idea.”

 

“One of the great things about the way I’ve set up the money for Gang use is that I have no control over it at all.  It’s all in the hands of Tim and Charlie.  So there’s absolutely no conflict of interest, no financial pressure, no nothing, to keep us from enjoying what comes naturally.”

 

“I’ll bet you will,” I told him.  I warned, perhaps not the best choice of words, Nels and Mary to expect an invitation, and I also told them that they need feel no obligation to accept; that they should follow their hearts (or gonads) and not get into something that they weren’t enthusiastic about.

 

Nels’ report was that he and Mary had been a little nervous about Fred’s invitation, in that they were twenty-one and twenty-two and Fred and Marty were seventy-eight and forty-six.  By the way the invitation had been extended to Nels, he was pretty sure what Fred intended.  He and Mary talked it over, and though they realized that they were committing themselves to nothing by accepting his dinner invitation, they at least felt committed to giving his propositions reasonable consideration, if and when they came.  The two of them agreed that they’d like to accept the dinner invitation, and they did.  Nels went on, “Instead of eating at his and Marty’s house, they took us to Jerry’s.  We had a nice, leisurely meal with no alcohol.  He explained that he didn’t want any of the decisions of the evening to be affected by alcohol.  It was in the middle of dessert that he got to the subject at hand.  Fred simply looked at the two of us and said, ‘Marty and I want to make mad, passionate love to you this evening.  You simply have never experienced romantic passion as Marty and I can deliver.  We will take your breath away, steal your emotions, take you to physical highs you’ve never imagined were possible, and then let you down gently so that you’re ready to love one another in ways that you never dreamed.’

 

“With that he extended his hand to Mary and guided her out of the restaurant and into his car.  Marty did the same to me, and the two of us ended up in the back seat of the car.  We rode the short distance to his house in silence, were led inside, taken to the living room where the curtains were drawn, and were gracefully disrobed.  We were led upstairs by these two naked men and gently laid on this huge California King bed.  And then they both proved that they were, in fact, the masters of mad, passionate, sexual love that Fred had claimed them to be.  Fred, experienced with two former wives, and believing that his tongue was a sufficiently effective dildo, knew how to take Mary to new levels of ecstasy.  Marty, using the same instrument, and as an experienced gay man, was able to provide the same pleasures to Nels.  Fred then said, ‘You may now lay there and watch us, or you may participate to your heart’s content.’  We participated.”

 

To round out the stories of my family, we come to Norbert, Bert to everyone, although Carol and I had our private little nickname for him, “Elsie.”  Elsie was Borden’s contented cow, and Bert, Elsie, was our contented child.  We rarely used the name except to each other, and quite infrequently to Bert, never with anyone else present except Nels (who we warned never to repeat it outside the family).  I’m sharing this now only with Bert’s permission.

 

I think he liked the name Elsie, because he really was a contented boy, and when we called his attention to it, he liked the idea.  He simply moved through life either not hitting, or not noticing, the bumps in the road.  Nothing seemed to bother him; rarely was he upset or perturbed.  Homework?  It was just something you did at night.  Spinach?  Something to eat.  Getting a date for the prom?  Ask a girl.  Getting a driver’s license?  Study and take the test.  Grades?  I get mostly As, a few B’s.  When his history teacher, who’d also taught Nels, asked if he was going to be as good a student in his class as Nels, Bert replied, “I doubt it.”  At home he reported the conversation, and said, “No big deal.”

 

He was good at most things, but refused to play rough sports, especially football.  He liked baseball and soccer, but wasn’t a standout.  He took up tennis, and quickly became very good at it.  We thought he’d found his niche, and perhaps he had, but it didn’t inspire him to work at it like Nels did his gymnastics or Tim and Billy their diving.  It was apparent to me that if he’d put his mind to it, well his time and body more than his mind, he could’ve been a tennis champion, at some level, perhaps national or international.  But that wasn’t Bert.  He was number one on the high school team and that was that.

 

At some point in high school his romance with Peg Grayson, Tom and Nancy’s daughter, was rekindled.  They’d been a pair on their Grand Adventure, but since then had more or less ignored each other.  Then all of a sudden they appeared to be in love, and were planning college together at Beloit College.

 

I have to tell you one little story.  One evening not long after the two of them had become, in their words, “an item,” I was talking to Peg when she came by the house to meet Bert.  He was in the kitchen taking my place helping Carol clean up from supper.  I told Peg to sit and chat a moment, while she waited for Bert.  I commented that perhaps a little romance in his life would inspire Bert to be a little more ambitious.  I was thinking about his tennis, but it could’ve applied to anything.  Her reply was telling, “Oh, Uncle Carl, I hope not.  I love him just the way he is.”  She thought a minute and then said, “Wait a minute, don’t you dare use me as a wedge to get him to change himself.  You wouldn’t dare to that, Uncle Carl, would you?”

 

“Not after that admonition.  No, Bert’s his own man.  That’s the most important thing for both him and Nels, and for you too, except you’d better be your own woman.  If you like him the way he is, be sure to tell him so.  That’s what love is all about.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle Carl.  I love you.  Both Bert and I do.  You do know  that Bert really loves you and Aunt Carol.  He thinks he has the most wonderful parents in the world.”

 

“Yes, Peg, I do know that.  Bert has no trouble saying that to us, and we believe him.  He loves you even more; you know that, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I do, Uncle Carl.  I really do.  Bert and I are going to have a wonderful life together.”

 

“I know you will.”

 

To go to college together with Bert, Peg had to get early admission to Beloit, but that didn’t prove to be a problem.  Although it wasn’t required for the admissions process, Peg concluded, rightly so according to Uncle Tim who advised her, that she needed to have a personal interview at Beloit.  Her father, Tom, offered to fly down to Beloit with her, but she and Bert decided that they’d like to take the trip together and by themselves.  They were both seventeen and high school students; not exactly prime candidates to get permission for such a trip.  However, none of thelr parents had a problem with the plan, but Tom did point out that they’d need a car and wouldn’t be able to rent one at their age.

 

It was Auggie to the rescue.  Peg called him up and explained their problem.  He responded with, “No problem.  Fly to Madison, Ted’ll meet you at the airport, and loan you a car to drive down to Beloit, it’s only about an hour away.  The college will find a place for the two of you to stay–separately of course, sorry about that.”

 

Peg’s interview was interesting.  Tim had coached her to make sure that three things got across, but subtly.  First, that she and Bert were a pair.  Second, that both of them would pay full tuition.  Third, that this year they were only looking at Beloit, but that next year they’d have more options.  She started right out explaining that her reason for seeking early admission was to be there with her boyfriend, whom she was truly in love with and expected to marry.  Then she explained why they’d chosen Beloit (small, near a great city, outstanding school, recommended by Uncle Tim–that involved an explanation that didn’t hurt her prospects).  The interviewer asked, “What other schools did you consider?”

 

That was her opening.  “Harvard, University of Chicago, Oberlin, and a few others.  But none of them were willing to consider early admission, and Bert and I really want to be in school together.”

 

“What will you do if early admission doesn’t work out?’

 

“Bert will get a job and wait a year.  But that really isn’t what we want to do.  Of course, it would expand our choices a lot, but it really isn’t what we want to do.”

 

Bingo!  If that didn’t drive home the point, the guy was simply dense.  But he wasn’t dense at all.  Tim got a call asking about both Bert and Peg.  He pointed out that Bert was his nephew, so his opinions were biased.  But he noted, “You guys would be fools to miss these two.  Grab them while you can–they’re really great kids.”

 

Beloit College grabbed.

 

So in the fall of 1998 Bert and Peg headed to Beloit, Wisconsin, to be students at Beloit College, living in the dormitories.  They tried to get on the same co-ed floor in one of the dorms, but that wasn’t possible as first year students (the college avoided the term freshmen because of its sexist connotation, but somehow first year students seems to lack something), because the spaces were all claimed by upper class... (oh, shit, upper classpersons).  But they both got on co-ed floors in different dorms, and in the second semester a space opened up on Bert’s floor and Peg and her roommate (whom she liked very much) moved over to Bert’s building.

 

Bert decided to play tennis, but was only able to claim the number two position on the team.  That didn’t bother him, and the team managed to come in first or second in the Middle West Conference, beaten one year by Grinnell and one year by Knox.  Peg loved to watch Bert play and came to all of his matches and some of his practices.  She never pushed him to work harder in order to be number one, and he preferred to spend more time with Peg and less on the tennis court.  I’ll admit that I’d let Peg in on his secret nickname, and from time to time she’d call him Elsie, but it wasn’t to spur him on, but as a seal of approval of his approach to life. 

 

Well, you know that Bert and Peg were sexually active in high school, where they had The Hideout, and their rooms at home, available for pleasant afternoons, evenings, and nights when they were so inclined.  Life wasn’t that easy at Beloit.  Neither had a single room, and there was always the “roommate problem.”  After they’d gotten to know their roommates better, both found willing supporters who were willing to evacuate the room for Bert and Peg.  Bert’s roommate, Cal,  was from Chicago, so he could easily go home on weekends, but his parents discouraged that until after Christmas of his first year.  They felt that leaving campus on weekends would result in his missing a good part of campus life.  Cal reluctantly agreed, and before long the urge to head home lessened and disappeared.  After Christmas he did make a couple of weekend trips home, primarily arranging for summer employment.  He’d leave Friday after school, and Peg would settle herself into the room by dinnertime.  The first such weekend they returned to the room after dinner, and Peg tossed a condom onto the bed.  “Get your clothes off and that on.  Fingers and tongues are fun, but it’s time for the real thing.  By the way, that’s just insurance.  I started on the pill at the end of summer.”

 

Bert couldn’t help but agree.  They’d followed the unwritten Gang rule that you didn’t fuck in high school.  It was time.  He said, “I’m not going to put that thing on; [long pause] you are.”  He took off his clothes, laid down on the bed, and watched Peg do the same. 

 

She then knelt between his legs, stroked “Little Bennie” (her name for it) till it was “Big Ben” and rolled the condom down on it.  Then she asked, “Well, where do we go from here?  We aren’t exactly experts on positions.”

 

Bert smiled and said, “This was your idea, remember.  There it is; you know where it goes; you figure out how to get it there.”  He laid back on the pillow and continued to grin at her.

 

Peg said, “You don’t plan to move, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well, I either lay down on top, or I swing my legs forward and sit on you.  Do you have a preference?”

 

“No, do you?”

 

“I don’t know.  I guess we’re going to find out.”  She decided to sit.  She swung her leg up so her heels rested in his armpits, and sat down pretty hard right on his dick, which–luckily for him–aimed forward and didn’t get broken in half.  It also didn’t get inside of Peg.  Bert just grinned.  Peg could feel his hard-on between her legs and decided to push herself up using her right hand, and took “Big Ben” in her left hand and guided it into her vagina.  Then she dropped her full weight on his groin area and felt him plunge deep inside of her.  She used a finger on her clitoris as she rocked a little, and said, “I can reach and orgasm like this, but you won’t. If you want this to be a two way you’re going to have to put some effort into it.”

 

Bert responded by pushing her hand aside and taking over the job of stroking her clit.  He continued to smile, but didn’t put any effort into thrusting his cock.  Peg found the sensation to be wonderful, and quickly approached an orgasm.  A few moans and groans tipped off Bert to her state of affairs and he heaved up on his hips a couple of times, letting his dick slip out partially and thrust back in each time.  That brought Bert to climax almost exactly at the same time Peg came.  The fell into an embrace, that lasted for quite a while.  Eventually Peg said, “Tomorrow morning.  Tomorrow morning I’m going to lay on the bed and let you figure out what to do.”

 

“I can’t wait.  And I can guarantee you that you’ll enjoy it.”

 

She did.  So did he.

 

As you know, they were married at the end of their Sophomore year, living in campus apartments for their last two years.  Their charmed, happy, contented life continued for the four years of college and beyond.  It has been a joy to watch them.

 

To be continued...

Posted: 10/21/11