MORE SUMMER HEAT... lots of it (Part 162q)

MORE SUMMER HEAT… so much of it (Part 162q)

RETROSPECT…

The ending of our time with Barbara was far more troubling to me than is expressed in what I’ve written. There is no doubt that my stumbling into finding Barbara in the bathroom that afternoon was the root cause of the ‘disconnect’ with her and, over time, I came to accept it. But, before that I tried to think of anything else that had happened over the time spent with us that might’ve had an influence on her thinking. I’d been jotting little notes about what we all did while she was here in a Day Timer like notepad and went back to that more than once. Then one day I decided to write it up with as much detail as I could thinking it might trigger some hidden facet of information that could help me find a plausible answer. I ended up writing 80 something pages in a 6” by 8” hard covered notebook. (see picture) When I was done I found nothing that would give me a reasonable and satisfactory answer as to what had turned her against me. However, that little ‘book’ was the source of most of the detail I’ve used in writing a lot of the previous posts that concerned Barbara and that Summer.
                

I was troubled for a long time and finally rationalized that, for some unknown reason, Barbara told her mother about me walking in on her while she was in the bathroom. I’ve never even come close to coming up with a reason for her doing that. I wondered and thought deeply about the night that during the storm, she, Elle and I had slept in the den and she’d been wearing her ‘package’. There was absolutely nothing that had been untoward during that whole night while she was dressed that way. Here it is almost 50 years later and I’m still hung up on it!

For Elle, fortunately Barbara’s father was ‘above’ all the hubris of his wife and treated her like the professional that she was. The losers were our three kids. All of them loved Barbara dearly, especially Kaye, the youngest. For a short while right after Barbara left she would end up crying at bedtime. I ended up being somewhat of an ogre in that I told all of them I didn’t want to talk about Barbara. Many years later, in looking at pictures with Barbara in them we attempted to explain what had happened. I was never sure they fully understood.

Pat (the PTA) lady kept up with Bill and Phyllis for a few years but eventually that stopped. The very last Elle had heard about Barbara she was supposedly in graduate school. Mo, Barbara’s sister, never made it through college. She became what was described to Elle as a “latent hippie”. I won’t lie but the way the situation with Barbara ended up left a lasting impression on me. And now, with all the revelations about sexual harassment by so many well known people I’ve begun to wonder if some of the things I’ve done would fall into the same category. I can honestly say that I never touched another female in an inappropriate way. I can also say that when it came to the workplace I put a lot of effort into trying to protect innocent females from ‘predator’ type males. I am also proud of the integral role I played throughout the years in seeing that many females got recognition and promoted without a quid pro quo. A good example of that is the situation I’m currently writing about (Part 162o) that concerns Trish and Joanie.
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NOW BACK TO THE STORY…

It was hard for me to regenerate the enthusiasm I had when leaving the bank on Friday. I never even thought about Trish and Joanie until I was on my way in to work. I had to struggle a bit to remember exactly what I’d come up with to present to Hobie in an effort to accelerate promoting Trish. However, a chat with Bret got me straightened out. The next problem to address was finding the opportune time to approach him. Picking the wrong time had the potential of sabotaging the whole idea. In the early afternoon Bret motioned for to me to look out into the lobby. I did and saw Hobie talking with his daughter, definitely the ‘light of his life’. I told Bret to keep and eye on them and as soon as the daughter headed for the door to come and get me. Knowing that it was a one time thing… making the ‘pitch’ to get Gee to hold a special meeting to get approval, had my full attention. That is, until Trish told me I had a phone call from a man named Donald and he was holding on the line.

Walking back to me desk it came to me that Donald was the man I’d talked with in the yard next door. It also came to me that he’d asked me to provide the names of a couple of realtors to list his son’s house for sale. I hadn’t called him… in fact, I forgot all about him. Reluctantly, I picked up the receiver expecting to get a ‘blast’ for not having called him. Instead, I got an apology… for being brusque when I went up to him to introduce myself. For the next few minutes I got a lesson about mental disorders. To put it simply, his son was manic depressive who was thought to be in remission and had been released to him to live at home.  He thought he was doing so well that he’d not been monitoring him all that closely. The son stole money from the printing company his father owned and used it as a down payment to buy the house. Listening to him I tried to remember what the son looked like but really couldn’t. In a very civil tone he asked if I could help him out. I was standing at my desk wanting desperately to join Bret and to speak to Hobie. But, after hearing about the son immediately felt lucky that he never got the chance to move in. Moved by that I felt had to help the man out. I promised him that I’d get back to him by noon the next day. After hanging up the phone I think I let out a big “Whew!”

Hobie wasn’t all that sold on the idea that Bret and I presented but he didn’t cut us off. Without being too ‘pushy’, I was able to get him to agree to “run it by Gee”. As we walked away I felt rather good about the chances that Gee would agree to do it. There was nothing specific to make me feel that way but I returned to my desk with a smile. The smile continued when I saw a note from Trish that Lynda, from the stock brokers office had called. The last time I spoke with her I’d indicated I’d get back to her with a choice of a stock to invest the $5,000 that was just sitting in my account. I still hadn’t read the materials Stan, her boss had given to me. As conscious as I normally was about money this wasn’t like me. I tried to tell her I hadn’t made up my mind but she interrupted me and asked if there was any way to come over to the office right away. There was still unopened mail and a letter to dictate but the tone of her voice made me say “Yes…”

I had no idea what it was that necessitated me going to the office but I was intrigued. I liked Lynda and was impressed with her sincerity so hurried on my way. When I first got involved with the stock market back when living in the mobile home park, the retired broker who set out to teach a group of us the basics stressed a couple of his tenets… buy stocks in companies whose products you use and like and reject any ’tips’ you might get from friends. As soon as I walked in Linda motioned me to follow her to the back of the office. She slipped a piece of paper into my hand and then pretend to get some information out of the cabinets. While she fiddled around I glanced at the piece of paper. It read “Sell Taylor Instrument Co”.

To be continued…