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 163

Skaters 

 

Hi, there!  Brian here.  Tired of reading about sailboats?  Well, neither am I.  I could read about Tim, Charlie, and that delightful support crowd for episode after episode.  But they are heading for the 2000 Olympics; you don’t have any doubt that they are going to make it, do you?  Neither did I back in  1997 and 1998.  But for all of us that are tuned to a different Olympic schedule, 1998 was our Olympic year. The 1998 Olympic Winter Games were held in Nagano, Japan, February 7-22, 1998. 

 

As you’ve already been told, Shel missed the age cut-off to compete in the games by about six months.  It was a bummer for him, but he accepted his fate and threw himself into pushing me to be more than ready for the Games.  However, I wasn’t the only skater at the Fred with dreams of Japan.  The skating program of the Fred had substantially expanded since the Lillehammer Olympics, because of the great successes of the Fred’s skaters, in particular Jack and Janie, our ice dancing Olympic gold medalists.

 

The skating program at the Fred had grown very differently from the gymnastics program over at the Marty Center.  Shel and I talked about this, because in many ways we would’ve liked to have been part of a program more like the Marty Center.  The Cavers developed a very close community; yes, sex was involved, but it was a lot more than that.  They were almost like a family, and I think some of them felt closer to the other Cavers than to their real families, though they all seemed to have a healthy and happy family life.

 

But the Fred was much bigger.  It was a huge facility that needed large and varied programs to pay for it.  In that environment there was no way that a very private program like the Cavers could exist.  Since you needed a whole skating rink to practice, nothing like the Cave could exist at the Fred.  But there was more to it than that.  Kids came to the Marty Center very young, some as young as four and five.  They grew up together, practiced together, went to school together, played together.  Granted only the very best were invited to join the Cavers, but those that were invited came out of that very close group.   Marty had wisely not allowed new members of the group that hadn’t come up through the ranks of the Marty Center, even though there was a considerable demand to join following their incredible Olympic successes.

 

At the Fred we were encouraging older teen and young adult skaters to join the program.  They were, after all, paying customers.  They paid for membership which gave them ice time and coaching.  Some would, as they became part of the local culture, subscribe to Tim’s ideas of love and support.  Some would buy into the sexual aspects of that.  Others didn’t comprehend it.  The Fred had room for everyone.  Some groups grew up around particular coaches, or particular skaters (Shel is an obvious case in point), and some of those groups were a little like the Cavers, but without the Cave. 

 

To talk about specific skaters that you’ve met: Jack and Janie joined one of the big ice shows following their Lillehammer triumph.  They spent two years (six months a year) on the road.  The paying customers wanted to see their Olympic ice dancing routine that had created the stir in Lillehammer.  But if you repeat a routine eight times a week, 26 weeks in a row, you get pretty tired of it.  They had a little variety in the second year, and, of course, had some other parts in the show.  But they got bored with the whole thing, very fast.  They retired from skating when their 1997-98 tour ended.  The two couples now live very near each other in upstate New York near where they grew up.  We keep in touch, but not much more than Christmas cards.

 

Jersey and Merry were now married, living happily in Grand Forks, and still very active racers at the Fred.  I started to write, “They kept to themselves,” but that’s only true if you add the phrase, “as far as sex is concerned.”  They got along with everybody, joined us for meals, parties, and activities, but they had their own lives beyond the Fred.  They didn’t get involved with the Gang.  Olivia, our last Olympican at Lillehammer, was married, and left ice skating under somewhat tragic circumstances.  She was practicing when she took a serious fall and broke her hip.  She’s recovered, but the doctors have advised against further competitive skating.  Another fall could be devastating.  She’s moved to Denver, has a good job at the Denver Mint, and has pretty much dropped off our radar screen.

 

The Fred is no longer offering skaters the same financial deals that Jack, Janie, Jersey, Merry and I got.  We were bribed with a fabulous offer to come to Grand Forks.  But that was when nobody had heard of the Fred, nobody thought of Grand Forks in connection with skating, and Fred was eager to put the place on the map.  Well, believe me, Lillehammer did the job.  People are breaking down the doors to be part of the Fred’s program, and they realize that they have to pay the standard membership fees to participate.  And the fees that include top-notch coaching aren’t cheap.  On the other hand, the acceptance of professionals into Olympic skating, and similar non-collegiate skating competition, means that the really good skaters can get corporate sponsors, wear their logos, endorse their products, and at least cover their expenses and eat.  But professionals that have to perform to hold onto their contracts have a difficult time developing the kind of relationships to other skaters that characterize the relationships within the Gang or the Cavers. 

 

Jersey, Merry, and I still had the same all expenses paid deal with the Fred that we’d started out with.  It was part of the deal, and Fred was very willing for it to continue.  He told me, “Hell, Brian, I’d like to be able to offer that deal to everyone, but we really do have to get the Fred on a paying basis.  You, Jersey and Merry came along at the right moment.  Enjoy your luck.  And, of course, Shel gets the same deal just because he’s Shel and a COG.  You simply have to accept the truth to the old adage, ‘It’s who you know that counts.’  Shel knows me well.”

 

I might point out that by that time in life, I “knew” Fred pretty well, too.

 

There were a total of seventeen top level skaters at the Fred that were  at least entitled to dream about getting to the 1998 Olympics in Nagano.  I won’t introduce all of them to you, because they are really outside of this story, in that most of them didn’t become close to the Gang, and most of them didn’t make it to Nagano.  But do let me introduce three mighty exceptions:

 

Flip Carson.  Flip was a short track speed skater who was absolutely fearless as he raced around the track, avoiding the other skaters.  He combined his fearlessness with the grace of a ballet dancer and the speed of a jaguar.  Short track skating is one of the more dangerous Olympic sports.  Tearing around the track in small groups at breakneck speeds, riding on razor sharp blades, and knowing that falls are inevitable is, quite simply, risky.  You’d  never know it talking to Flip.  He did wear the appropriate protective gear (“Hey, dumb and fearless are not synonyms.”) which included Kevlar reinforced speed shirt and shorts, as well as neck and calf guards.  Flip’s problem at the Fred was a lack of serious competition.  However, he was quick to point out that the only skaters that really rivaled him were spread all over and had the same problem he did.  He was only sixteen months older than Shel, and they got along very well.  Shel like to race him one on one–Shel never competed in the standard four-man races–and Flip insisted that Shel could be an outstanding short track speed skater.  Shel thought about that for maybe half a minute and decided that he was a figure skater and had no interest in changing.  It didn’t stop them from being good friends, skating together whenever possible.

 

Flip grew up in Boise, Idaho, and had taken skating lessons since he’d learned to walk.  He’d played hockey, but his love was racing.  After watching South Korea dominate speed skating during the 1994 Olympics, he became almost obsessed with the idea that the United States must do better, and he should be the young man to do it.  He immediately recognized that he’d  need better coaching, and like many observers at the Lillehammer Games, he decided to look into the Fred.  His parents weren’t able to leave their jobs and move to Grand Forks, but his retired grandfather was willing to.  Flip and his grandfather visited the Fred, met Ham, the head coach, and were given the usual snow job by Fred, who assured them that coming to Grand Forks was the right move.  It turned out to be.  He enrolled at Central high School as a junior and started skating both early morning and afternoon after school.  Meeting Shel, who had just about the same schedule was inevitable.

 

Shel being Shel, they hadn’t been skating together very long before Shel informed Flip that he was bisexual, and wondered if Flip had any interest in “playing around.”

 

Flip responded, “Wow, Shel, is there any subject that’s taboo for you?”

 

“None that I can think of.  Did my talking about bisexuality bother you?  If so, I’m truly sorry, and the subject won’t come up again.”

 

“No, it didn’t bother me, just surprised me.  I think I’m too much into girls to want to ‘play around’ with you.  But who knows, I’ll keep an open mind and it might change.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” was Shel’s response. 

 

A while after that the two of them were standing together in the shower room at the Fred.  Flip came over to Shel and sort of tweaked Shel’s dick.  “Is that ‘playing around’?”

 

Shel tweaked him back, but sensed that Flip really didn’t want to go any further.  For years, when they were dressing beside each other, in the shower together and alone (or with people they could trust, like me) they’d  tease each other by tweaking their dicks, tickling their balls or goosing the other.  It was quick, funny, and never went further.  I stayed out of it, but it was fun to watch them from time to time.

 

Flip graduated from Central High School with a year and a half to go before the Nagano Olympics in February, 1998.  He asked me for advice on how to use the next year and a half.  He saw his future as remaining involved with the Fred, working on his skating, and being ready for the Nagano Olympics.  The question was whether he should devote full time to his skating or enroll at UND and combine studies with skating practice.  I suggested that the best person to talk to was Dr. Tim.  I told Flip, “Tim successfully combined an outstanding academic career with incredible Olympic success, and he’s still doing it.  Go by his office and make an appointment with his secretary.  He’ll be delighted to see you.”

 

“How well do you know Dr. Tim?  And how did you get to know him?  He isn’t around the Fred all that much.”

 

“Through Shel.  To Shel he’s Uncle Tim.  Shel’s father and Tim were at summer camp together years ago, and they’ve remained best friends.  Now they’re all part of a big group called the Gang.”

 

“So, since you and Shel are lovers, or partners, whatever, you’re part of the Gang.  Is that it?”

 

“Almost.  Shel can’t formally join the Gang until he’s 18, and so that’s when we both will join.  But I still know Tim fairly well.”

 

“And Tim will have time for me in his busy schedule?”

 

“Somehow, Tim finds time for everyone.  That’s what makes Tim, Tim.”

 

Flip easily got an appointment, and arrived a few days hence, right on time.  Tim knew who Flip was, as he kept track of all of the Olympic hopefuls on campus, the Fred, the Marty Center, and anywhere else they might be hiding in Grand Forks.  “What can I do for you, Flip?  I certainly can’t teach you anything about short track speed skating.  It appears that a trip to Japan may be in your near future.”

 

Flip was a little taken aback by Tim’s knowing that much about him.  After all, he wasn’t even a UND student.  He recovered quickly and responded, “We won’t know that until after the Trials.  I hope to go to Japan; I put a lot of time and effort into that goal.”

 

“I know.  The fact that you moved to Grand Forks from quite some distance away just to practice at the Fred proves it.  Now, what can I do for you?  I’m sure that you didn’t come here just to chat about Nagano.”

 

“Dr. Tim, I’m trying to make up my mind about how to spend the next two years–the years leading up to Nagano.  I seem to have two choices: I can graduate from high school and then work full time on my skating at the Fred, or I can enrol at UND and juggle studies and skating....”

 

“Just the way you’ve been doing it in high school.”

 

“I think that college is likely to be more demanding than high school.  I don’t want to shortchange my skating and I don’t want to screw up a university career.”

 

“What kind of grades are you getting in high school?”

 

“A’s and B’s, an occasional C.”

 

“Not very good.”

 

Flip seemed a little shaken by that reaction.  He responded, “It’s a solid B+ average; my parents are delighted.  I didn’t do that well back in Boise.”

 

“Flip, I don’t have access to your academic records in high school.  If you were a UND student, I would’ve reviewed your file before this meeting.  But I know this about you: You skate around a very tight, short track, at breakneck speeds, making split second decisions constantly.  You manage a very complicated schedule to accommodate both high school and the level of skating that you’ve achieved.  To accomplish that you have to have a very sharp brain.  It’s not that hard to get A’s in high school.  Your brain is fully capable of it.  But you get B’s and an occasional C.  That means that your brain isn’t fully engaged in your studies.  Your dedication to study isn’t as firm as your dedication to skating.  I’ve been there.  So have a lot of the other Olympians in this town and on this campus.  Straight A’s are quite possible if you’re as dedicated to academics as you are to your skating.  And your studies are going to be more important through your life than skating is.  A couple of gold medals–even when they bring valuable endorsements–are going to be a couple of doodads that need dusting twenty years from now; solid academics are going to be more important.  Oh, yes, call me Tim, skip the Dr.”

 

Silence.  Tim waited.  Flip seemed to be thinking; or simply standing in shock.

 

“Are you telling me that all of the Olympians on this campus were straight A students?”

 

“No.  They all could’ve been.  Many were.  Charlie, Billy, Hal, Willie, Fyn, some others.”

 

“And, Tim, of course.”

 

“There have been some interesting exceptions.  Jim Forsythe, the athletic director at your high school, didn’t get all A’s in high school or at the University of Michigan.  And he was never that dedicated to his wrestling, either.  He could take it or leave it.  Then three of his good friends were heading to the Mexico Olympics and he decided, ‘What the heck, I think I’ll go to the Trials.’  He got a silver medal.  Add dedication, and it might’ve been gold.  But that isn’t Jim’s personality.  But you’re different.  You have total dedication to skating.  That’s your personality.  That you haven’t directed it to academics is a personal decision–or, more likely, a lack of a decision.  Think about it; am I right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“OK, you came in here asking about whether to enroll at UND next year.  My answer is very simple.  If you’re going to be as dedicated to academics as to skating, then enroll.  You have plenty of time and talent for both.  But if you’re only able to apply that dedication to one thing at a time, then wait to enroll.”

 

“You make it sound so simple.”

 

“It is.  I’ll tell you about Charlie.  He was in college, getting grades just about like you–quite respectable.  Then he and I met and fell in love.  That’s a long story, and I’m not going to tell it all now.  But he was at school in Illinois and I was in Minneapolis.  I wrote him a letter and asked him to be as dedicated to academics as he was to me.  He tell’s me that he thought about that letter for a while, and then, one morning, while standing in the shower–like me he does his best thinking in a hot shower–he decided that that’s what he was going to do.  He’s never gotten a grade other than A since.  It’s a decision you make.  I’m quite aware that for some people such a decision is impossible.  They can’t muster that level of dedication, or they simply haven’t the brainpower.  But you have both.  So it’s a simple decision.”

 

“Just like that.  Decide.  And then either enroll at UND or not.  Get my ass in gear on my studies or not.  Do it or don’t.  As simple as that.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“OK.”

 

“OK, what?”

 

“I’ll enroll at UND.  You make sense.  The first time I get a grade less than A, I’ll come visit.  And you can try to figure out whether it was a failure of dedication or of brainpower.”

 

“I don’t expect to ever have that conversation.”

 

“I don’t either.”

 

“That’s what I like to hear.  You’re already a North Dakota resident, so you don’t have out of state tuition to pay.  I’ll see that you get a full scholarship to cover the in-state tuition.  Are you going to continue to live with your grandfather?”

 

“What don’t you know about me?”

 

“I think I’ve pulled the last rabbit out of that hat.”

 

“I think so.  We’ve gotten very close in the last two years, and I think he’d like to continue to live here and be a surrogate father.”

 

“What do your parents think of your living so far away?”

 

“We miss each other.  But they understand my love of skating, and they’re willing to support it.  Luckily Granddad was able to move here with me, and was willing to.  My Nana–my grandmother–died just three years ago, and he didn’t have much in his life.  Now he has a significant responsibility.”

 

“You get along well?  Is he too controlling?”

 

“I know what you’re getting at.  The answer is, no.  We really relate more like friends.  He often comes and watches me skate, and he’s at all of my races.”

 

“Someday I’d like to meet him.”

 

“I’m sure you will.  He’d like to meet you.  He was jealous of my meeting you today.  He remembers when you were raking in all that gold and appearing on every magazine cover in the world–at least that’s the way he tells it.”

 

“Please let him keep telling it that way.  Flip, you’re of an age that you can dream of doing wonderful things, and you still have time to make your dreams come true.  Put your mind to it.”

 

“Thank you, Tim.  I’m looking forward to being a student at this university.”

 

Well, what can I tell you?  Flip joined a long line of athletes and scholars that walked out of Tim’s office or home, never again to get a grade of less than an A.  He easily qualified for the American Olympic Short-Track Skating Team that went to Nagano.  He hoped to give the South Koreans a real run for their money for Olympic medals.

 

Flip had a girlfriend.  Since he spent nearly all of his free time at the Fred, it was inevitable that any girlfriend would be a skater; who else would he meet at the Fred?  Her name was Carmine Rogers, and her sport was long  track speed skating.

 

Let me pause a moment to give a little background regarding facilities for long track speed skating.  When Tim, Charlie, and Fred conceived the idea of an Olympic level skating facility, they naturally assumed that it would provide for all of the Olympic skating sports–except that UND already had the Ralph, a first class hockey facility.  That meant figure skating and long and short track speed skating.  And that is the facility that Carl designed and Fred built.  But the whole bunch of them were completely naive!  Without even knowing it, they’d built one of only two indoor long track (400 meters) speed skating ovals in the United States.  The other was in Milwaukee.  Lake Placid and the Twin Cities each had outdoor, refrigerated long track ovals, but they weren’t available for year-round training.  There were additional indoor and outdoor ovals in Canada, but the only other ovals in the United States were unrefrigerated tracks that were completely dependent on the weather.  This meant that for long track speed skating, most serious American skaters went  to Milwaukee, but now they had Grand Forks as an alternative. 

 

Carmine was one of a number of very good high school speed skaters that managed to move to Grand Forks to pursue their passion for long track skating.  She’d come to Grand Forks at the same time as Flip, and was in his same grade in school–except that she’d ended up at Red River High School.  Her father was an X-ray medical technician and her mother was a nurse, so they were both completely mobile.  When Carmine heard about the program at the Fred, and the availability of an indoor long track, she asked her parents about moving to Grand Forks.  A lot of family discussion followed.  Carmine had a younger sister who’d be starting high school the year they moved–while Carmine was a junior.  The family had quickly agreed to move to either Milwaukee or Grand Forks, but had a hard time deciding between the two.  The visited both cities, and contrasted them to their current home–Wich­ita, Kansas.  They weren’t sure that they wanted to be in the big city of Milwaukee–almost Chicago, nor were they sure that they were up to Grand Forks winters.  They visited both cities, and talked to the coach at both skating programs.  They had a very nice conversation with the coach in Milwaukee, who made them feel welcome and described their skating program which could certainly have led any good skater to Olympic qualification.  Ham did all of that in Grand Forks, but then introduced them to Fred (as he did to all potential new top level skaters).  Fred could sell refrigerators to Eskimos, and did his usual snow job on Carmine and her whole family.  Carmine was particularly impressed with the entire Olympic culture which had started in Grand Forks with Tim and continued today.  It was a culture that Carmine couldn’t resist being a part of, and she sold her family.  They moved to Grand Forks in July of 1994–the summer after the Lillihammer games

 

Carmine had a real passion for speed skating, and spent as much time at the Fred as Flip did.  It didn’t take long for them to get to know each other and start dating.  Flip and his grandfather shared a car, and Flip could use it just about any time he wanted–which was most of the time.  When Granddad needed it during the day, Flip came by their apartment and picked up his grandfather as he went from the Fred to school.  Granddad used the car during the day and picked Flip up a school and let him have the car.  Or, sometimes Granddad just needed it in the afternoon, and the pickup would be as Flip went from school to the Fred.  In any case, he had the car to move around and to take Carmine on dates.

 

They gradually became a fairly serious “item,” but neither of them would’ve described it as “true love,” nor did they think in terms of lifelong romance.  Rather they were good friends having a good time in high school.  It wasn’t until the spring of their junior year that sex reared its ugly/beautiful head.  Flip had thought of exploring how far Carmine would let him go if he put his hand on her tits or rubbed her thigh, but hadn’t made any move.  Then one afternoon, when he picked her up at Red River High and they were driving to the Fred, Carmine asked, “Flip, how come you’ve never tried to make it with me?”

 

Flip thought, “Jesus, how do I answer that?”  He decided he had to try to be as truthful as possible, answering, “God, what a question.  OK, I’ll try to be as honest as I can.  My problem is that I’m really not sure of the answer.  I’ll admit that I’ve dreamed about touching you in forbidden places, and dreamed of where that might take us.  Why haven’t I done it?  Fear, perhaps.  Not yet gotten up enough nerve.  Respect for you?  No, I don’t think that’s it, because I really don’t think that our having some kind of sexual relationship would be disrespectful.  I guess there are other things involved, but I think that’s about all I can put into words.”

 

“Would you like to have a sexual relationship?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“So would I.”

 

“You mean that?  Not just that you think I would like it?”

 

“Hey, I brought the subject up.”

 

“OK, I accept that.”

 

They rode in silence for a while, and they found themselves at the Fred, and ready for their skating practice.  They used different rinks–though they could see each other, because the short track rink was inside the long track oval.  At about seven they were both ready to go home, and Carmine and Flip walked to the car, both of them thinking about the conversation of that afternoon.  As soon as they were driving, both of them made a move.  Flip’s right hand reached over and stroked Carmine’s left tit, as her left hand started rubbing Flip’s thigh.  They both laughed, as they realized that both had moved simultaneously.  Carmine said, “This could be dangerous in a moving car.  Do you know a private place to park?”

 

“No place in particular, but if we head north out of town it won’t be far before we can be all alone.”  He was right, and they were soon parked on a farm road that was very unlikely to be traveled that evening.  They kissed and let their hands roam all over each other, but stopped before they were getting under each other’s clothing.  Each sensed that things could easily get out of control, and both knew that it was important that things remain under control.  So, by mutual agreement, they stopped, and Flip drove Carmine home, which was their regular routine.  The evening ended with a kiss and agreement that they needed to talk about where they were headed.

 

The next day in the car they let their hands roam just a little, but agreed to hold off on talking until they had plenty of time, and that would be two days hence, Saturday.  Flip picked up Carmine a little early on Saturday and they headed to McDonald’s for breakfast.  They’d found that they both liked Egg McMuffins, and they enjoyed a McDonald’s breakfast.  They found a booth in the corner that was private and started the conversation that each of them had contemplated with some nervousness for the last couple of days.

 

Flip started it off in a somewhat unusual manner.  He asked, “OK, we’re going to talk about sex.  I need to know what kind of language to use.  Are we going to use formal, medical terms like intercourse, penis, and vagina, or the common slang terms fuck, dick, and cunt, or euphemisms like go to bed, dingle-dangle, and female parts.  I’m open to whichever you’re comfortable with.”

 

Carmine answered that with, “My girlfriends and I use the slang terms, and I know you boys do, but they’re seldom used in mixed company.  That’s silly.  Let’s be comfortable talking about dicks, balls, clits, cunts, tits, and fucking without embarrassment.”

 

“Maybe you can, but I can’t talk that way with a girl without being a little embarrassed–at least at first.”

 

“That speaks well for you, Flip.  Now, let’s move this conversation forward.  But before we talk about sex, I think we need to talk about us, and how we see our relationship, because I think that says a lot about just what we might do with each other sexually.”

 

“You’re a great girl, Carmine.  I think I love you, but I’m not sure just what that means at age 17.  I’m not ready to think about a lifelong relationship, and I wouldn’t want any sex we have with each other to be because you thought that that was where this relationship stood.”

 

“God, Flip, those would be exactly my words.”

 

“I think that’s part of the answer to your original question, which was why haven’t I pushed sex up to now.”

 

“So, the question before us is, first of all, are we comfortable with any level of sexual relationship when we haven’t made a lifelong commitment to each other?”

 

“Whether we like it or not, we already answered that in the car the other day when our hands groped all over each other.  That was a sexual relationship.  So the question isn’t whether we’re going to have a relationship, but how far are we going to go?”

 

Carmine thought a minute and said, “I guess you’re right.  I hadn’t really thought of that, but I guess we did cross the line last week.  I think we both knew what we were doing, and we both had answered my question with a ‘Yes, we can have some sex.’”

 

“So the question really is, ‘How much?’”

 

Carmine continued, “I suppose that we could lay out a whole lot of stages of sexual relationship and then try to draw some kind of line, we’ll do this, but not that.  But I think that there are really only a few key issues regarding how far we’re going to go:  Are we going to get naked together?  Are we going to give each other orgasms?  Are we going to fuck?  There’s a whole lot in between those, but those seem to me to be the crucial questions.”

 

“Wow, that does really lay it on the line.”

 

“It was my understanding that was what we intended this morning, am I right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“OK, then, try answering the questions, one at a time.”

 

“OK.  Yes, I’d like to be naked with you.  Jesus, that would be a dream come true.  Orgasms?  I hadn’t really thought of that, outside of fucking you.”

 

“Well, my friend, there are a lot of ways that you can have an orgasm without fucking me.  I assume that you engage in one of those ways most nights as you go to bed.  The same is true for me.  But while we’re on the subject, let me either remind you, or inform you–whichever the case may be–that a tongue can give a good orgasm just like other body parts.”

 

“Somehow, just climbing on top of you and shoving my dick in your cunt seems so much simpler–and less embarrassing–than having you jack me off and watch me spray all over myself.”

 

“But it seldom leads to little Flips.”

 

“Point well taken.”

 

“It also relieves your sexual tension as well as fucking, but with no risks.”

 

“OK, I’ll answer your second question, about orgasms.  Yes.”

 

“And I’ll answer the third.  No.  I’m not ready to let you fuck me.  I’m quite prepared to reconsider that at some future time, but for now that’s the rule and the limit.”

 

“I can live with that; I agree.  An obvious question now would be, “How fast?’ but I really think it’s easy to answer.”

 

“My answer would be, ‘Not too fast, but we don’t want to be leaving each other unsatisfied’.”

 

“Good answer.  But there are a couple of more difficult questions, and even more critical.”

 

“And those are?”

 

“When and where?”

 

“Hey, you’re the boy, those are your problems.”

 

“Sexist.  Especially when it’s convenient.  But, need I remind you that you brought this subject up in the first place.  Any thoughts about where?”

 

“Well, as we both know there’s always the car.  The worst of winter’s over, and there are plenty of back roads.  When it gets a little warmer, we can take a blanket and head into the woods or tall grass.  North Dakota has a big advantage in that it’s not a very populous state.”

 

“A car isn’t a bed.”

 

“No, but I don’t know of a readily available bed.”

 

“Neither do I, but I’ll think about it.  For now, there’s the car.  But I don’t think I want to get naked with you for the first time in the back seat–or front seat–of a car.  I think a car is best for petting.”

 

“As you drive me home tonight, let’s plan on a nice petting session.  Now it’s off to the Fred to skate.”

 

“I think I’m going to have a hard time keeping my mind on my skating.”

 

“Exactly why we need to get to the orgasm stage fairly quickly.  Boys without orgasms are frustrated creatures.”

 

“And girls aren’t?”

 

“Not as much.”

 

That evening they didn’t get to the orgasm stage, but they sure managed some effective groping, or petting as they called it.  And they got underneath each other’s clothing for the first time.

 

Flip decided to talk to Shel about the “Where?” question.  He figured Shel knew his way around Grand Forks, and he certainly had indicated that he “played around.”  Well, if he played around, he had to play around in some place.

 

Shel heard the question and laughed.  “It seems that you and a certain young lady are moving the relationship forward.  Remember, if you find that girls don’t fully satisfy you, I’m always available.”

 

“I know, Shel.  But that doesn’t help me with, ‘Where?’”

 

Shel said, “Let me begin by explaining my situation.  First, I have very understanding parents, who support me in my decisions regarding sex.  If I had sex with you, they’d  know about it, approve of it, and would let me use my room at home for the purpose.  Second, my close friends and I, the children of the Gang that we’ve talked about, have a whole house available to us–The Hideout.  They all know the combination to the lock on the back door, and are welcome to use the place as they please, as long as they respect it, each other, and the neighbors.  All of that is second nature to that group.  It’s assumed that sex is part of their program.  Lastly, Brian lives in The Lighthouse, next door to The Hideout.  I could borrow a room there anytime I wanted, especially Brian’s, but with The Hideout available, I don’t need to.”

 

“So you’re sexually active; a lot?”

 

“I certainly am.”

 

“Gay and straight?”

 

“Yes, indeed.”

 

“With people in The Lighthouse?”

 

“No.  Well, I’ve certainly fooled around a little with Nels and Willie.  All of the Gang kids have played at least a little with all of the others.  But not seriously, they’re too old, or I’m too young–depends on your perspective.  Auggie and I enjoy sex together, he’s my main partner.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“Now, as to your problem of a place for sex.  Talk to Brian.  He doesn’t spend a lot of time in his room.  He’s either here skating or with me.  I’m sure that you and Carmine can use his room whenever you please.”

 

By the time Flip got around to talking to me the game had completely changed. He knew that Shel would’ve told me to expect a conversation with him, so Flip felt that he had to talk to me.  But the talk was essentially a report of an amazing (his word) conversation that he’d had with his grandfather.  I’ll share his story as carefully as I can.

 

One evening at dinner with his grandfather, only a couple of days after his conversation with Shel, Flip found himself being asked by his grandfather to come into the living room after dinner to talk.  His grandfather had seemed a little uncomfortable with the request, and it bothered Flip a little.  He couldn’t help but wonder what he’d done, if he was in trouble, or what.  He followed his grandfather into the living room and took a chair opposite the couch, which was his grandfather’s favorite place to sit.  “What’s up, Granddad?”

 

Long pause.  Granddad finally said, “It time for a talk about the birds and the bees.”

 

You can imagine Flip’s reaction to that.  He managed to not sound too pained as he said, “Granddad, I’m sixteen years old, I really do know about the birds and the bees.”

 

His Granddad was very calm and ignored this rebuff.  “I want to tell you a story.  It’s about your father.  I talked to him last evening and got his permission to tell the story.”

 

“What story, Granddad?  Haven’t I heard most of your stories about Dad?”

 

“Not this one.  I need to start by explaining that the only sex education your dad got from me was that good old advice to, ‘Keep your fly zipped.’  I don’t know what sex education he got at school, but I suspect that most of it came from other boys.  In any case, life went on and his mother and I didn’t think we had any problems.  Then one evening your dad came in a little early from a date with his current girlfriend, Ann.  He said, ‘Mom, Dad, we need to talk.’  Thank goodness we had a good enough relationship that he didn’t try to keep this news secret from us.  The news was that Ann was pregnant.”

 

At this point Granddad had Flip’s attention!  “Dad got a girl pregnant?”

 

“Yes.  We went all through the question of whether he was sure he was the father, whether it was consensual, what had he told Ann, and so forth.  They were high school juniors, the same as you, Flip, and they’d been going at it for a month or so.”

 

“Didn’t they use protection?  My God.”

 

“Flip, I honestly don’t know.  If they did, they didn’t do it right, or they had bad luck–nothing’s foolproof.  If they didn’t, they weren’t lucky–and had no right to expect to be.  The question was what were they going to do now.  Your dad had told Ann that he would do what she wanted–he’d marry her if that’s what she wanted.  He was as upright in the situation as he could have been.   But Ann’s parents weren’t buying it.  As far as they were concerned he was a rapist, and they wanted Ann to have nothing more to do with him.  I tried to call them to talk, but Ann’s mother just shouted at me over the phone.  They couldn’t keep Ann and your dad from talking at school, so he knew what was going on.  Ann had refused to accuse your father of rape, she insisted that they both knew what they were doing.  Since she was a couple of months older than your dad, there was no question of statutory rape.  The police were never involved.  Krakow was a small town, and they realized that if they told anyone–police, relatives, anyone–it would quickly be all over town.  They had even gone out of town to get the pregnancy test.”

 

“So, did Dad father a baby?”

 

“No, it was decided–I don’t think by Ann, but by her parents–that Ann would have an abortion.  Abortion had been legal for a few years, and was readily available in large cities if you had the money.  Ann and her mother took a secret flying trip to Chicago during semester break in January, and that was that.  We’ve hardly spoken of it since.”

 

“Why are you telling me this story now?  To keep me from getting some girl pregnant?”

 

“No, that isn’t the point of the story.  You may think of it as a lesson aimed at you, but I’m telling you because it was a lesson for me.  I never really thought of it that way until the last couple of weeks.  You’ve been getting home later that usual, and I’m guessing that you and Carmine have been spending some time in the car together.”

 

Flip was completely silent.

 

His grandfather continued.  “It got me thinking that I had to talk to you about girls and sex–the birds and the bees.  What was I going to say?  Would you pay any attention?  I thought back to my, ‘Keep your fly zipped,’ lecture and realized that it was pointless.  So what should I say?  Where might I get some help with that problem?  I don’t know many people in Grand Forks, but I do know Fred Milson.  I haven’t met him often, but every time we’ve met he’s said that if he could be of any help, just ask.  So I asked.”

 

“You asked Fred about what to tell a teenage boy about sex?”

 

“No, I asked him who I should talk to about my problem.”

 

“You’re kidding, Granddad, right?”

 

“He had two suggestions.  The first was Marty over at the Marty Center.  Marty is Fred’s partner, and he was sure that he’d have time for me.  But he also suggested President Tim’s father, Norman.  He said that Norman had been a wonderful father to his sons, Tim and Carl.  He was more my age than Marty, and he thought we might hit it off.”

 

“You and Tim’s father, Norman, have been talking about sex education?”

 

“Indeed.  Almost all day yesterday and today.”

 

“And I’m about to get the resulting lecture, right?”

 

“There isn’t a lecture.  Norman had some really good advice, and I’m going to attempt to follow it.  As far as he’s concerned, the key is open communication.  Age sixteen is a little late to start, but I’m going to try.  Norman insists that there are two keys to good communication with a teenager: First, it has to be two-way.  I have to be as open and honest with you as I hope that you’ll be with me.  Second, you have to be assured that I’ll accept the things you tell me and not be upset, punish you, argue with you, or respond negatively in any way.  You also have to be confident that I won’t share what you tell me with anyone, including your parents, without your permission.  I’m committed to all of those things.”

 

“That’s easy talk, Granddad.”

 

“No, it isn’t easy.  And it isn’t talk.  Norman said some more things that I’m going to try to follow.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“He believes that parents, or grandparents, can’t make rules for their children.  They can give guidance and advice, but that kids will decide for themselves, regardless of the rules.  So don’t bother with the rules.  The biggest responsibility of parents is to keep children safe and out of trouble.  That applies to sex as well as everything else.”

 

“Where is this leading?”

 

“Let me start with a simple question.  Am I right about why you’ve been a little late getting home the past couple of weeks?”

 

Right then Flip knew he’d reached a critical juncture.  It’d  be tough, but all he had to do was say, ‘Yes,’ because his granddad had certainly been right on target.  Every bit of his teenage being wanted to answer, ‘Oh, Granddad, you’re being silly.’  Not a lie, but not the truth, either.  Flip liked his Granddad, trusted him, and knew that he’d given up a lot to move to Grand Forks with Flip.  That, or his Granddad’s story, or something, made him reply, ‘Yes’,”

 

“Can I ask how far your fooling around has gone?”

 

“I haven’t fucked her, Granddad.”  The use of the word fuck was clearly a test, and it didn’t phase Granddad.

 

“That wasn’t exactly what I’d asked.”

 

“We’ve been petting in the car.  Thus far we’ve kept our clothes on.”

 

“Thus far?”

 

“It’s going to go farther.”

 

“Now for the key question.  Have the two of you talked, or just groped.”

 

“We’ve talked.  A lot.  It started with Carmine talking.”

 

“Sounds responsible to me.”

 

“You’re not upset that I’m telling you that I’m beginning to have sex with a girl?”

 

“Should I be?”

 

“No.  But most parents–and grandparents, especially grandparents– are.”

 

“Let’s just be you and me.  So, have you talked about how far you’re willing to go?  Have you talked about birth control?”

 

“We aren’t going to fuck.  She doesn’t want to, and I agree with her.  We’ll talk seriously before that changes.”

 

“What makes you think you can keep to that resolution in the middle of passion?”

 

“Granddad, this is getting embarrassing.”

 

“If it’s tough for you, believe me, it’s just as tough for me.”

 

“She’s going to use her hands and...”  Long pause.

 

“You were going to talk about her tongue or her mouth, weren’t you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good thinking.  Tongues don’t get girls pregnant.  But let me tell you something.  Loose sperm on your hand can get inside a girl and get her pregnant.  You have to clean up after you ejaculate.  Wash your hands, then play with her.  Or play with her first.”

 

“My God, Granddad, I can’t believe this conversation.”

 

“Let’s get on to a critical question.”

 

“What’s that, Granddad?”

 

“Where are you planning to do all of this?”

 

“We’re thinking about that.  To be honest, we don’t know.  I talked to Shel, and he thinks Brian will let us use his room at The Lighthouse.”

 

“You have a room in this apartment.  It’s yours.  It has a comfortable bed.  If you’re embarrassed, I could be away.  But I don’t have to be.  I always knock before I come in your room, and if you were in there with Carmine I wouldn’t knock unless it was an emergency.”

 

“You’re kidding, Granddad?”

 

“You’ve said that a lot this evening.  No, I’m not kidding.  If you’re in your room down the hall, you’re safe.  Keeping you safe is part of my job.”

 

“You wouldn’t tell Carmine’s parents?”

 

“You two are clearly going to have sex.  You would have it someplace if not here.  I can’t affect that.  What Carmine tells her parents is her business, not mine.  It’d  be nice if she could have this kind of conversation with her folks, but that isn’t my business.  My business is you, and helping you make decisions that will not get Carmine pregnant, because I don’t think that’s what either of you want right now.”

 

“You better believe it.”

 

And so, the next Saturday instead of eating lunch near the Fred, they went to Flip’s apartment for lunch.  Granddad had fixed it.  After lunch Flip said to Carmine, “Let me show you my room.  It’s really nice.”

 

Granddad said, “And it’s neat for the first time in about two months.”

 

They all laughed, and Flip and Carmine walked back to his room and Flip shut the door.  Carmine asked, “Your Granddad knows what we’re going to do, and he’s comfortable with it?”

 

“He says he knows we’re going to do it somewhere, we ought to be safe and comfortable.”

 

They soon found that taking off their clothes while the other watched was more of a challenge than they expected.  They were eventually naked, excited, scrambling around the bed, and quickly needing to clean up an ejaculation that came upon them much sooner than they’d planned!

 

Months later, when they’d progressed through a lot of different stages of sexual exploration, Carmine said to Flip, as they lay naked beside each other on his bed, “You know, Granddad’s given us an incredible gift by making this room available for us.  How can we thank him?”

 

“I’m not trying to be funny when I say that not getting you pregnant is my greatest gift.”

 

“Let’s take him to the Dakota Steak House for dinner this Friday evening.  He’d like that, and it would give us time to talk and thank him properly.”

 

And that’s what they did.  Granddad’s response was to thank them for being responsible teenagers.  He continued, “You know, I think that most teenagers are quite capable of being very responsible if they’re given the chance.  But when parents, teachers, and others are constantly monitoring them, lecturing them, giving advice but not freedom to act upon or reject the advice, then responsible behavior isn’t the likely result.”

 

“That was the essence of Norman’s advice to you, wasn’t it?”

 

“Of course.  I wish that I had a second chance with your father, Flip, but I think he turned out pretty well, in spite of me.”

 

Carmine said, “No, because of you.  One failed little birds and bees lecture doesn’t define a parent.  I know and love Flip, and he’s the product of solid parents–has to be.  And those parents are the product of solid parents.  Solid kids don’t just happen.  In any case, thank you, Granddad, for being kind and trusting of us.  We haven’t abused your trust.”

 

“So tell me about your ice skating.  When do you learn whether you’ll be on the Olympic team?”

 

“It’s a ways off, Granddad; not until we’re in our second year at UND, and we have to finish our senior year of high school yet.”

 

“Norman says that Tim says that you’re both shoo-ins.”

 

“Tim isn’t an ice skater; what does he know?”

 

“I know this; you two had better not disappoint him.”

 

“We won’t; we promise, Granddad.”

 

OK, I know this is getting a little long.  Sorry, Charlie.  But I promised to tell you about three exceptional skaters, and I don’t want you to miss hearing about Bett Harper.  Bett was a figure skater from Fargo.  She’d come to the Fred in September of 1995 as a freshman at UND.  She’d come and registered at the Fred almost before she was settled in her dorm room; it was the Fred and not UND that had brought her to Grand Forks.

 

Bett uniquely combined strength and grace–a combination not found in many athletes.  She was as strong as any of the men figure skaters, and as graceful as any of the women.  It didn’t take her long to discover Shel, and before long she was proposing that the two of them make a doubles team.  Shel’s response was, “Bett, I love skating with you, and we do make a great team, but in the last analysis I’m a solo skater and I want to remain that.  And, honestly, I think that you know that at heart you’re a solo skater as well.

 

One evening as we were talking at The Lighthouse Shel told me, “You know what Bett likes doing with me, don’t you?”

 

“Haven’t a clue.”

 

“Then you haven’t been watching carefully.”

 

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to watch tomorrow.  Or can I guess?”

 

“You’re smart, Brian, you can guess.”

 

“She’s as strong as you are, lifts you as much as you lift her, and likes to get her hands on your groin as you go up and come down.”

 

“Oh how right you are.”

 

“And you like to do the same to her.”

 

“Oh, how right you are.  Are you jealous?”

 

“Nope.  Two reasons.  First, little Buddy, don’t forget that it was you that chased me, not the other way around.  Second, I happen you to know that deep down you’re gay, and guess what?  I got a prick and Bett doesn’t.”

 

“The first time I thought it might be an accident.  The second time I was pretty sure it wasn’t, and I started paying her back.  From time to time it can get pretty raunchy out there.  I’m surprised that you haven’t noticed; however, we generally choose times when the rink is pretty empty.”

 

“Have you two gone further?”

 

“Brian, you know I wouldn’t without talking to you first.  That’s why I brought up the business of our lifts.”

 

“Well, we both know our rules.  Have at it if you like.  How old is she, by the way.”

 

“Seventeen.  She started kindergarten a year early.”

 

Bett and Shel did go further, snuggled in one of the beds in The Hideout.  However, neither one of them wanted to push too far, and cuddling up in bed letting their hands pleasure the other was as far at they got.  Shel told me, “Brian, we liked the feel of each other’s body, and we didn’t want to leave with either of us frustrated, but we really didn’t feel the desire to push farther.  I really don’t see why every relationship has to lead to fucking.”

 

I thought that was a pretty remarkable comment coming from a boy as pushy and horny as Shel.  But I can’t imagine that kind of restraint when I spend his eighteenth birthday with him!

 

You’ll meet them all again, Flip, Carmine, and Bett, as we move on to the Olympic Trials.

 

To be continued...

Posted: 11/11/11