LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171y)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171y)

Neither C J or Freddy had any luck, both getting caught up in minor skirmishes that had them finish in the middle of the pack of cars. Freddy’s crew elected to drive back after the race but C J decided to join us by going back by ferry in the morning. One thing I failed to mention was that Beth, Cliffy’s wife hadn’t come with us, one of the few times since they’d been married. But she’d used up all her sick time when she had the baby and couldn’t get off from work. C J didn’t have his fan club with him so there weren’t any females with his group either. There was minimal partying as there wasn’t anything to celebrate. After C J collected his winnings we were both off. We arrived at the ferry slip around 1am and made the best of sleeping… me not so much. The ferry started the boarding process around 6:30am and we were back at the garage around 9:30am or so. Cliffy’s father was there when we arrived and he told me to call home right away. That was not a good thing. Elle answered and without a hint of the ‘coolness’ she’d shown as I left the house the day before, calmly told me to head for the hospital. My first thought was something had happened to one of the kids. It was my mother who was there. The initial diagnosis was food poisoning. While I was on the phone Cliffy’s father had asked the others “What now?”.

It had been over twelve hours since the motor exploded and none of us, Cliffy included, had dared to address that subject. As I’ve stressed since getting involved with this group that we had no business being in the racing business. I think the reason there had been no discussion on what we were going to do next among us was that we were all smart enough to know the end had come. I told the others about my mother and told them I’d catch up with them later. I don’t remember anything that anyone offered up as an answer to the ‘what now’ question before I left.

It was about a twenty minute trip to the hospital. She was resting comfortably and my father told me to go home and to come back later as she was in no danger. The ‘culprit’ as to her food poisoning was believed to have been chicken salad that had been unrefrigerated for too long. On my way home I stopped back at the garage just to see if anyone had come up with an idea of just what we should do. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the guys pulling the blown motor out of the car. I knew I wasn’t going to stay but I had to ask what was going on. Back a few years, when Cliffy was just starting out, his father tried different brands of motors trying to come up with a cheap alternative to the very expensive Ford motor. He still had a Pontiac motor lying on the floor of the bus garage and offered it up to the guys. Hearing that and watching them work on getting it into the car I thought they were crazy. I told them I had to get home, cleaned up and back to the hospital. No one complained as I walked away. Driving home I still couldn’t believe they were trying to go racing that night.

I spent the afternoon with my mother so my father could take care of some things. I got back home in time for supper and Elle was acting like nothing had happened to upset her. She did make one comment that I picked up on though and it had to do with the play. As we finished up she said she was going to call Paula to tell her not to come over. I didn’t know how to read it at first but soon got the gist of it… I was taking the girls to see the play. I kept my mouth shut and went along with it hoping that was all the ‘punishment’ that she’d dole out. When she was getting dressed to leave I observed that she had on a ‘full package’ and asked how it had worked the night before. When all I got was the short answer of “The same…” I wished I’d kept quiet.

To be truthful, the play was much better when seeing it in sequence. One thing I noticed was that the lighting was much better than it had been after it was determined the borrowed spot lights couldn’t be used. The fire department loaned some of their battery operated portable ones and it seemed to work. All in all, the play had been a success with both nights being sold out. When the cast was mingling with the audience after it was over I’d overheard some people talking about an after show party. Not entirely happy about having to be with the kids for the show I became immediately thankful they were there when the party talk came up. Elle, who I’d surmised as being soaked after four hours, really shocked me when she said she’d get a ride home later.

I got home around 10pm and got the girls right to bed. After that I allowed my mind to wander back to the race car and what had happened with the old Pontiac motor that night. From there my mind went to the obvious… our racing days were over. Being a banker my thoughts went to wondering how much we could get by selling just the car. This was the fourth season for it and I’d heard many of the good, competitive teams would build a new car every year. We’d paid $1,000 for it, with a motor, and Cliffy had been told it was probably worth $3,000 at that time. Sitting there thinking I came up with an arbitrary figure of $1,500 because of the relatively new rear end we’d installed the previous year. If we got that much we’d all pretty much get our investment back. Coming up with that was enough for me to shut thoughts about racing down for the night.

Elle got home just at midnight. I’d been worried about how she was handling her incontinence and that was heightened when I saw her. When wearing a ‘full package’ out in public she always wore a dress or skirt. When we left for the show it was a little before 7pm and now it was midnight and she was wearing slacks. I didn’t want to be outwardly concerned so casually observed that she’d changed clothes. I remember the sheepish smile I got with that but she didn’t say anything. When we got upstairs she offered that the party had been at the house of the lady who I’d watched struggle to get part of her costume on during rehearsals and given me the big peek. I’d felt pretty confident that none of the three women in the changing area that night had been aware of me so, upon hearing that, asked if that’s where she got her change of clothes. By that time she’d started to undress and I was anxiously awaiting to see what panties she was wearing. It was a first for me. I was completely dumbstruck. Looking at her front side I didn’t think I saw a crotch line but I only had a quick glance. When she turned to walk down the hall to the bathroom I didn’t see one on the back of the panties either. I really wanted to know who made them. When she returned she’d put on her night time ‘package’ and was carrying the panties in her hand and laid them on the chair with the borrowed clothes she’d been wearing. She climbed into bed without saying anything and turned out the light by her side of the bed. I quickly made a decision to grab the panties and head for the bathroom myself.  As I did I tried to remember the lady and remembered her as being a little ‘round’. Once in the bathroom I found that I hadn’t imagined the lack of a crotch line. The crotch ran from the waist elastic in the front in an inverted “V” and continued uninterrupted all the way to the waist elastic in the back with the “V” reversing itself. If that wasn’t enough to contemplate, the inside of the crotch was brushed nylon. However, there was no label to identify the maker. That was a disappointment. As you can imagine I wanted them for my “stash” but knew there was no way. I returned them to where I found them but Elle was awake and waiting for me. As I walked in I heard her say  “Did you find them interesting?”

To be continued...

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171x)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171x)

One good thing about staying was that I was able to identify the woman who’d given me the fantastic crotch view. I recognized her from having seen her working at the post office. I asked one of the other people who were observing the rehearsal who she was and was told she was the wife of one of the custodians. When given her name I recognized it because a son of hers was in Jean’s class. When Jean had brought home her class picture I’d asked who the big kid in the back row was and if he’d been left back. The answer was no, that he’d been in her class since she’d started at the school. Standing there, looking at the woman it was somewhat hard to believe that she’d given birth to a ‘giant’. Only in fifth grade, the kid looked like a high school student. She was about 5’5”, or maybe a little taller, with an average build and someone you would never be drawn to from her looks. But, that didn’t matter to me what with the panty ‘view’ I’d witnessed a little earlier.

On our way home it was obvious Elle was exhausted. Phyllis had been upset about the problem with the spot lights and had taken it out on the cast. Even though Elle had no speaking parts Phyllis was constantly on her about her positioning on the stage. Her “package” was filled in spite of consciously trying to limit how much she drank. But, the costume was heavy and hot to wear and she had to keep taking sips of water. As I’ve written, with the pregnancy, the ‘dribble warnings’ that Elle had become used to were no longer effective. When she had to go… she went. I asked her if she thought she’d be OK for the actual performances. Her answer was one of resignation… “I better be!”

Paula had put the girls to bed and before she left assured us she’d be back the next night to watch them again. I paid her and as she walked down the path I couldn’t help but wonder what she was wearing under her skirt. I just hoped that I’d be in a position some future evening to get another peek or two before school was over for the year. I knew trying to time my ’news’ about going off racing to Connecticut on Friday would be tricky but I hadn’t expected Elle to be quite this tired. When she got this way her attitude would change in a way that I didn’t appreciate. If she was tired she sort of expected to be waited on. I couldn’t decide if I should do it when she was in a bad mood or wait until morning. Thinking about it for a few minutes I decided it would be better to get it over with and not to start her day on Friday with something negative. She was in her night time “package" and just about to climb into bed when I spring it on her. I really didn’t expect the reaction I got. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at me and told me she didn’t care what I did… then flipped her legs up onto the bed and pulled the covers up. I just kept my mouth shut and headed back down the stairs.

On Friday morning, Elle hardly acknowledged my presence at all. I limited what I had to tell her to just saying I’d be home a little after noon and would be leaving as soon as I changed clothes. It was like talking to a wall. At noon, I did get some response to my attempt to communicate but that stopped when I told her I probably wouldn’t be back home until the next morning. I’m sure she didn’t appreciate my comment as I went out the door. “Break a leg!”, referring her performance that night. The quickest, but not the cheapest, way to get to Connecticut and the track was to take the ferry across the Sound. Cliffy had made a reservation for the 2pm ferry and when we arrived we were surprised to see two other racer car haulers already there. C J was one of them and a multiple time track champion at the track we had raced at the previous weekend. The driver’s name was Freddy and he was, like so many of them, a bit of a character. Cliffy had raced against him for a number of years so they were familiar with each other. Even though C J was relatively new to the track, he’d proved himself to the ‘regulars’ and was also friendly with Freddy. Waiting for the ferry to arrive I got a kick out of listening to the three of them telling racing stories.

The weather was calm so the trip went well. I remember listening to Cliffy tell of his “trip from hell” in which almost all the passengers got sea sick. We arrived at the track around 5pm and got registered and were given a pit stall to operate from. In spite of a request that the three of us be placed somewhere close to each other… it didn’t happen. Warm up’s or practice, whichever you wanted to call them,  started at six. There were four different classes of race cars, just like at our regular track and we had to wait our turn to get on the track. It was a half mile around with long straightaways and sharp, banked turns. The pit area was on the opposite side from the grandstands and the entry was at the end of the straightaway just before the entry to the third turn. When it was our turn to practice, Cliffy pulled out on the track and took a few slow laps before the green flag waved signaling it was OK to speed up. The problem with the pit location was that we could only see the front of the cars as they traveled down the backstretch and we weren’t sure which one of the bunch of cars coming towards us was Cliffy until he passed by. I’m not sure how many laps he’d made when we saw a big puff of smoke come from the group of cars coming at us. Then we saw the car veer off into the infield, spewing steam and smoke from the motor.

We knew immediately what had happened… and we knew our racing days were pretty much over. When the track crew pushed the car back into the pits “Seeg”, C J’s father showed up. Before any of us had a chance to inspect the motor “Seeg” was on the ground on his hands and knees looking at it. I remember him looking back up at us, the half smoked cigar still in the corner of his mouth, and saying that it looked just like the motor that had blown up on C J the year before… a broken crankshaft. None of us knew what to say. We all knew that parts break all the time but our motor was a Ford, just like the one in C J’s car, and the same part broke. The only thing I remember Cliffy saying was that he was done with Ford. The crew rounded up some volunteers to push the car up the ramps and onto the hauler and I thought we might head for home. However, Buster came running back to say that Cliffy had been asked to drive a car who’s driver had been found to be drunk. That told me we weren’t going home.

I won’t bore you with details but limit it to saying that shortly after the start of the race Cliffy was in, we saw a familiar cloud of smoke and watched the car coast into the pits. The motor in this car had also blown up. At least it wasn’t a Ford… (it was an Oldsmobile). The group made the decision to stay and watch C J and Freddy race. I was outvoted, five to one, which meant not getting home until the next morning. I’d told Elle but I wasn’t sure she was listening when I did. The one thing for certain when I got home was I’d have a lot of relationship re-building to do when I got there.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171w)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171w)

By Thursday it seemed like Dotty had made some progress as far as being accepted was concerned. She’d continued to come in with more casual clothes and really seemed to be trying to change her ‘persona’. I’d mentioned to Bret that Cliffy was planning on racing in Connecticut the next night. He gave me one of those ‘you’ve got to be kidding!’ looks. All I could do was give him a weak smile. I left work early to be sure I’d get something to eat before heading to the school. Being the dress rehearsal, Elle had to get there very early as her costume was the most elaborate and took the longest time to get fitted on her. As much as she hated to do it she wore a “full package”, complete with a pair of plastic pants. I really had to admire her for having the courage to do it although the ladies helping her to dress all knew about her ‘problem’. But, the idea of being in front of hundreds of people and probably being wet while on stage was pretty courageous in my eyes. Paula ate dinner with us which made the kids happy. She hadn’t gone to Elle’s mother’s house (where she was living) to change so was wearing the clothes she’d worn for teaching… a cute, short pleated skirt. Knowing the kids liked to play games with her while on the floor I could only imagine some of the ‘peeks’ I’d get if I were there with them. Elle and I left the house a little after 6pm. Elle was excited but I really wasn’t looking forward to my new ‘job’.

A little background about the school and the auditorium… It was built in 1934 and was now 35 years old with very few renovations. The school population had almost tripled in the fourteen years since Elle had graduated. Most of what had been done was in the kitchen. Other efforts had been few and far between and when the budgets were submitted it was always the extra curricular programs that were given short shrift. The auditorium and gymnasium had been combined when the school was built and where there had been some improvements for the athletic part of it, the stage had been pretty much ignored. Jonesie had brought me up to date on it saying that the stage lighting was still the same as when it was built. The only thing that had been addressed was the curtains and only after they had pretty much disintegrated. When they were replaced they didn’t mechanize them leaving the pull chain system in place. When Phyllis came up with the idea for the PTA play she’d gotten a promise that the proceeds would go to improve the stage lighting and, if any money was left, mechanize the curtains.

It hadn’t taken long for Phyllis, who not only had written the play but was also directing it, found the lighting woefully inadequate for what she wanted to do. After some searching they’d located a couple of portable stage spotlights in the city. As I looked at them they appeared to be about 10 feet high. To have access to them Jonesie had erected two 4’ by 4’ platforms on some of his portable scaffolding. There was another parent who’d been roped into the project. Hal was a ‘mousey’ little man who didn’t have much to say when we given our basic instructions. The spot lights were hidden from the audience by the ‘wings’ of curtains on the stage and we were each given a side to operate from. We got a chance to operate our spotlights, independent from each other, before the rehearsal started and I immediately found out why heavy leather gloves had been placed on the platform. The lights were very hot! It wasn't long before we heard the word “Places, everybody…” 

Another piece of important information is that there were no dressing rooms with access to the stage. The boys and girls locker rooms were where the ‘actors’ dressed. However, without direct access the hallways had to be used going to and from. It had always been a bit of a problem because of the time it took but for this play it had turned out to be a major one. There were a couple of places in the play where quick changes were necessary and Phyllis dictated that there be two areas backstage where this could be accomplished. Jonesie had made up a framework to hang blankets for privacy; one on each side of the stage. However, when doing it, there hadn’t been any scaffolding there. From my ‘perch’ I was looking right straight down into one of the changing areas. I’d not seen the play and knew nothing of what was taking place on or off the stage. I controlled the first light to go on and concentrated on the “spot” that had been designated. I had my “cue card” and focused on getting everything just right. When that was over I turned off the light to wait for the next one. Then I heard whispered voices beneath me. I looked down and there were three women in various stages of undress. It took my breath away. When you look straight down on someone basically all you see is the top of their head and their shoulders. You don’t have facial recognition. These women were moving about, bending over, leaning in one direction and then another as they struggled to get out of one costume and then into the other. I couldn’t tell who any of them were but one ended up sitting on the floor to pull on a pair of what appeared to be knee length leather knickers that was a part of her costume. Standing on the platform I was about 10 feet away, straight up. The woman who was on the floor had her legs spread about as far apart as she could as she struggled to pull them up over her calves. It was a full on crotch view, although the lighting was poor. But, beggars can’t be choosey.

Next, it was Hal’s turn. I watched him focus on his spot and waited for my turn. When it came there was a very loud “POP” and all the stage lights went out. The auditorium lights stayed on so there was still some light. It didn’t stop some of the women from letting out little cries of distress. The first words I heard were from Jonesie telling all those on the stage to stay put until he could find out what had happened. I would’ve been happier if there had been something else to hold on to other than the two handles on the hot light I was operating. I could hear Jonesie right below me and I also heard him curse. Then he told all the people on the stage to go out into the auditorium. I’d used a step ladder to get up on the platform but Hal had it. I could see the others gathering on the gym floor and finally had to call out for someone to get me a ladder. Once we were all accounted for Jonesie and Phyllis, who had been talking together for a few minutes, made the announcement that they would have to do the play without the spotlights. The amperage of the borrowed lights was too great for the antiquated wiring available on the stage. When I’d turned my light on to join the one Hal was operating it blew the main fuse for the stage. Jonesie added that we were lucky it hadn’t started a fire and that the outlet that mine had been connected to was pretty much destroyed. Listening to him, and putting ’two and two together’, I knew I was free from my obligation and would be able to go to Connecticut the next day. Before they resumed the rehearsal I spoke with Phyllis and told her I was sorry but that I really had nothing to do with creating the problem. I can remember the look on her face as being one of almost contempt but I didn’t care. Because Elle and I’d driven to the school together I stayed through the rehearsal. I had to admit it was a cute idea but glad I was done with it.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171v)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171v)

I was awake early on Monday morning, even before Elle’s alarm went off. My thoughts were on Dotty and, after having had time to consider my ‘suggestions’ to her on Friday, how she’d respond to them. At breakfast Elle even commented on the fact that I seemed “distant”. It didn’t take long to find out Dotty’s decision. I arrived around 8:30am and talked with Mike, the messenger/custodian while waiting for her. As she walked up to the door I had to do a bit of a ‘double take’ to make sure it was her. She’d completely redone her hair. It was no longer ‘perfect’ like after a permanent wave, but it looked more like natural hair would look. The next thing was the absence of make-up on her face. No rouge or eye liner and just a very pale lipstick in place of the red that she’d worn since starting there. Some of the younger women didn’t even wear lipstick, Cara being one of them. She was wearing a light weight jacket that only went to her waist so it showed she had on a floral cotton skirt that came to just above her knees. Looking down at her feet, she was wearing a pair of grey leather ‘flats’ in place of the high heels she’d worn right from the time I first interviewed her. To say that she’d ‘dressed down’ is putting it mildly, especially from the type clothes she’d been wearing. I was waiting to see the blouse she’d chosen to go with the flowered skirt so followed her to the coat room. Right in line with the colors in the skirt, it was a pale blue cap sleeved top and ended just below the waist band of her skirt. Seeing me there she did a bit of a curtsey and smiled. Seeing her like that told me we didn’t really need to have a chat and that she'd 'bought in' to what I'd suggested. However, I did remind her about perceived attitudes and reminded her to not be so “hard’ when asking questions or “defensive” when giving answers. I told her that she would have to work on “softening” up a bit but encouraged her by telling her that it was now up to her to ‘sell’ the others that she was a “nice person” and could work well with them. I walked away with my fingers crossed.

This was the day that Dotty got her own cash drawer. Laura, the assistant to the auditor had to be present as she counted the cash in the drawer. I made a point of observing how the two of them interacted with each other. There was at least a 25 year difference in their ages and I knew Laura was younger than Dottie’s two sons. After the money was counted I saw them talking and saw Laura smiling as they did… a good sign. As the day progressed I got word that two dinner meetings that I’d been scheduled for that week had, much to my great pleasure, been cancelled. That meant I’d be home for supper both nights and I might be able to help with the flower plantings at the church. When Bret was leaving he made a comment on how Dotty looked more “at ease”. I told him I agreed but didn’t say anything about my involvement in her transformation. I also made it a point not to talk with her during the day figuring I’d wait until the next morning to get her feelings on how she felt it had gone for her.

Monday night was the usual night for unloading the race car. The other guys were really ‘hyped-up” about the proposed trip to Connecticut on Friday. I wasn’t. Cliffy had raced at the track a couple of times when his father owned the car and hadn’t done well. As I had previously written, I felt we should take our winnings and limit our focus on our home track where we knew we were somewhat competitive. Some of the best drivers in the Northeast raced up there on a regular basis and had their cars set up for it. There was another reason for not wanting to go. I’d let Jonesie talk me into doing the “lights” for the PTA play at the school. Thursday was the dress rehearsal and the first time to work with the lights and Friday was the opening. I hadn’t yet told Cliffy and the guys about my conflict. I’ll admit I was “chicken” to do it. I’d started to formulate a couple of stories why I wouldn’t be going but wasn’t ready to break the news just yet. To race at the Connecticut track we had to change a bunch of things on the car because it was a much larger track… rear end gears and springs to name a couple. Cliffy had made some phone calls about what we needed for tires. A couple of other teams told him we should be able to get by with the tires we’d bought for the championship race back in October. That made me a bit happier, not having to spend money on more new tires. By the time we left that night we had most of the preparation done but Cliffy wanted us back on Wednesday night. That was a night that Paula was coming to babysit as she would on Friday as well.

The first thing on my schedule for Tuesday was to speak to Dotty. She admitted that the hardest part of her transition was in watching what and how she said things. She told me that Cara had told her she liked her “new look”, especially her hair. To me, that was progress. When I called the ‘other Elle’ about the plantings for the church she said she could do it that night. At supper, when I told my Elle she said she wanted to go too. It really wasn’t jealousy. She wanted to see what we were doing. The church yard had been bare since we’d moved back to town and as a “flower lover” she was excited about the possibilities. My only thought was that should I be lucky enough to get a few DP’s (down pants) or VPL’s I’d have to be careful about where my Elle might be. As it turned out I wasn’t to get either. The ‘other Elle’ wore a pair of “Farmer Johns” with the bib front and buttons on both sides. They’d belonged to her father so were a bit large on her… which was to my benefit. Over the hour we were there I spent about twenty minutes working side by side with her and I got far more ‘looks’ down the sides of those coveralls than I would’ve gotten from a DP. At one time, for about a minute, I had an unobstructed view of her white panties down her hip about four inches and was almost 100% sure they were Evette panties from the waist elastic. I was able to avoid Elle catching me because she decided there should be flowers around the sign post out by the sidewalk and was busy planting some there. When we were done we were pretty proud of how the place looked. I’d gotten a ‘thrill’ without getting caught so it had been a very good night.

Wednesday night at the shop it was more ’talk’ than work that got done. I still hadn’t mentioned my conflict on Friday night. Robob had showed up and said he’d be going so there’d still be five guys so didn’t feel so bad… but I didn’t have the nerve to tell them. The ‘plan’, at least as we walked out the door to go home, was to leave the garage at 1pm Friday.

My next project was to show up at the school around 6:30pm Thursday night to be ‘introduced to my new job as a “lighting technician" according to Jonesie. I wasn’t looking forward to it for a number of reasons not having anything to do with the race car. The brother of one of the partners in the ad agency the bank used was involved in the “Broadway scene” in the city and had arranged for the use of the portable spot lights we’d be using. He’s the one who told me I’d be “cooked” by the time the night was over as they lights put out a tremendous amount of heat. When I heard that I wanted to “cook” Jonesie for roping me into this deal.

To be continued….

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171u)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171u)

The celebration went on so long they had to get Security to get us off the grounds. That should give you an idea of how I felt when it was time for church in the morning. The one thing I thought I remembered was that the team members, giddy with the fact that we’d won, deciding to go on a “road trip” to race up in Connecticut on Friday night. Thinking about it in daylight, I questioned it. We’d won enough money to pretty much guarantee that we’d be able to race for a few more weeks and this excursion might put a ‘dent’ in that. With my head already hurting that thought certainly didn’t help it any. However the day did get better. By the time the church service was over my head had pretty much cleared. The ‘other Elle’, the lady from North Carolina who’s mother was a member of the church, was there again. She’d taken a leave of absence from her work and come North to take care of her mother and would be there until at least the fourth of July. I liked her and was pleased to know she’d be around. When here the previous time she’d expressed the desire to “spruce up” the grounds around the church and had made an effort to do so. Seeing me that morning she asked about where she could get some flowering plants. I told her I knew a place and would get back to her. I knew that Bob and Phyl, part of the “group” from when we first moved to town, had opened a nursery and were selling their plants to garden shops but not on a retail basis. I thought I might be able to get them to donate some plants and I’d offer to help the lady prepare the areas for planting them. I looked forward to that and working with her… but I didn’t know when.

Back at home, with Elle now up and about, she told me I’d gotten a phone call the previous afternoon from a college roommate who had moved from upstate and had just started a business close to where the bank’s branch was located. He wanted me to call as soon as I could. It had been a couple of years since I’d heard from him and I wondered if, with his new business, he wasn’t looking for me to invest in it. If that was what he wanted… I wanted no part of it… but I did have to call him. I put it off until after lunch. He went by a nickname… Wick… and it came from when we were in college. He was a “party animal” and one of his advisors had warned him that the was “burning the candle (wick) at both ends”. After graduation he cleaned up his act but the nickname stuck. Fully expecting a ‘pitch’ for investment money I remember shaking my head when I heard him ask if I was going back to our college for the 10 year reunion. I’d gotten besieged by the school for months to register and I’d thrown the material away and pretty much put it out of my mind. I’d not kept in touch with many of my classmates and saw no reason to waste time and money by attending. The first question I had for him wasn’t to find out about his recent move and new business. It was to ask why he wanted to go back. It took him about ten minutes to explain.

A little background here… Wick and I joined the same fraternity and roomed together for our sophomore year. During that time we gravitated to a group of guys who tended not to march to the same drummer as the majority. There were four classmates who chose to room in the basement of the frat house and called themselves “The cellar dwellers”. As time passed they invited others to join their group including some upperclassmen who were ‘leaning’ in the same direction as we were. They had a name for themselves that pretty much matched our philosophy… “The black hole”, and to emphasize it, their room was painted black. Over my sophomore and junior years I participated in a lot of less than sterling behavior with them. Actually, by the time the older guys graduated (most of them), we had a campus wide reputation. Getting married for my senior year pretty much took me out of circulation. However, on the few occasions I happened to run across one or more of them they would talk about reprising the group at our tenth reunion. I just ignored that talk but, one of the guys, “Gerb” (it was a shortened version for gerbil… and I have no memory of how that was placed on him) kept it alive. At graduation, his father, an importer, gave him one of his small businesses to run. And run it he did. It was an Italian wine import business and he made it a very large and successful company.

The story Wick was feeding me was that “Gerb” was sponsoring a mini wine festival to correspond with the reunion. He rented a dozen rooms at a run down hotel about five or six miles South of the campus as well as some of the grounds around it. According to Wick he’d convinced about eight of the original “cellar dwellers” to come and was trying to get those guys to convince more to come. I didn’t say much of anything while Wick was in the “sell” mode, just sat there remembering some of the stunts we’d pulled. It was when he told me who was coming that I started to give it a thought. He did mention his new business at that point saying he really couldn’t afford to take all the time that the reunion had scheduled so was going to drive up on Friday night, do the festival and class reunion dinner on Saturday and return Sunday morning. I remember my conscience telling me “No!” and I also remember not responding at first to his now somewhat pleading voice. The event was to take place Memorial Day weekend and that was always a big deal at the racetrack and for the kids so I finally told him I just couldn’t do it. He did make me promise to keep it in mind and if there was a change in my thoughts to give him a call.

Talk about planting a seed! I sat at the phone reminiscing about those days until Elle came up and asked if I was OK. I didn’t go into detail but gave her an overview of the conversation I had with Wick. Naturally, Elle knew him from our college days and asked about his wife and family. I had to laugh at the question because at no time did they come up during the call. The real surprise was when she asked if I was going to do it. Aside from everything I had on my ‘plate’, going back for a reunion without Elle was out of the question and her even hinting that it would be possible for me to go was ludicrous. When I told her “No” she replied “Why not? I think it would be good for you to do something like that.” I do remember shaking my head from side to side listing off some reasons why after hearing it. Not the least of them was the race car and the big race on Memorial Day weekend. To that, it was now her turn to shake her head.

After that I headed off to see if I could persuade our friends, Bob and Phyl, to let me have some flowering plants for the church. With the two of them just starting their new business I pretty much figured they’d be working at the business even though it was Sunday. I was right but as soon as I made my request Bob came back with the plea for me to run for the school board. Tired of being badgered I gave him a flat out “NO!” and headed back to my car. He called out, apologized and I was able to get them to donate a couple of ‘flats’ of petunias and marigolds. Back at home I had to call the ‘other Elle’ to let her know and to work out when we could get together to get them planted.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171t)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171t)

With that out of the way my thoughts went to thinking about Saturday… the opening of the stock car racing season. During racing season I’d get up early, go to the landfill, stop at the garage and do the last minutes check of the car and load it on the hauler. Then I’d go home, mow the lawn if it needed to be done and then check the yard at the church. I’d be home for lunch and have a couple of hours before Cliffy would stop by with the hauler to pick me up at 3pm. But, being opening night he wanted to be there early remembering the confusion of the previous year. I was really ‘up’ for opening night. We had a ‘fresh’ motor, new tires and, based upon our point standing from the previous year, a pretty decent starting position for the feature event. He stopped at 1:30pm with Beth, his wife right behind him. Elle was to babysit their new baby, now five months old. I hadn’t seen him in a while and was surprised at how much he’d grown. Elle and the kids were looking forward to it, sort of like practice for them when our baby was born. On the ride to the track we all seemed to be ‘up’, including Cliffy who tended to be a ‘worry wart’. At the track we had to register and fill out all the insurance releases before they would let us in. We were given the same pit stall as the previous year, next to Pee Wee and within sighting distance of C J. That was a plus and as soon as we pulled in I took a look to see if Karen, C J’s girlfriend, was in her tight white pants. Seeing her in them was, to me, a good omen and I looked forward to checking her backside out after we unloaded the car.

Cliffy’d been told that there was the potential for as many as 35 cars to show up which would make qualifying more difficult with only 24 cars eligible for the main event. For opening night though we had one thing going for us… new cars at the track would have to start in the back. Cliffy took a few more practice laps than he’d wanted as the car didn’t handle like he’d expected it would which put more laps on our new tires. That notwithstanding, when we pulled onto the track for our qualifying race we found ourselves starting fifth. All Cliffy had to do was stay out of trouble and we’d be in the feature race. It’s easier to write about than to accomplish. The green flag dropped to start the race and the front row cars got together. With all the cars bumper to bumper at the start there was no way not to be involved. The damage was minimal and we were able to continue but had to restart near the back. All we had to do was finish sixth to qualify… and it turned out to be a real battle. We made it by a half a car length.

After the race I went over my ‘check list’ on the motor while the others checked over the rest of the car. Once done I was free to go look at the competitors cars… and to check Karen out. I went over to C J’s father, “Seeg” to say hello and to look for Karen. I had to wait for a bit to get my awaited VPL. It was still the same as the previous year. Based upon the size of the crotch line, in all likelihood her panties were made by Van Raalte, my favorite. We’d managed to pay off the Ford heads that “Seeg” and C J had let us use. In our conversation "Seeg" reminded me of the “good deal” he’d given us telling me he could’ve sold them at the season ending flea market for more than twice what we paid. I remember thinking that I’d have to listen to that crap all season long but since we had the heads and they worked it was worth it.

When it came time to line up for the main event we found we’d be starting eighth… fourth row on the outside. We’d hoped for better but some of the good cars had problems which let some of the normally slower cars qualify. I remember talking with Alan and kind of handicapping the cars in front of us and noting that a couple of them could/would be a problem to get around. We called them “squirrels” because you never knew which way they would go. Crossing our fingers when the cars pulled out onto the track all we could do was hope. Of the cars who usually raced at the track there were four or five you could almost always count on to challenge for the win. There were six or seven other who, if everything went right for them, were capable of pulling off a win and we were in that category. C J was one of the cars expected to win but, with trouble in his qualifying heat, had to get in by running in the ‘last chance’ race which put him in the rear of the 24 car field. As the green flag was waved to start the race the whole crew held their collective breaths. Getting through the first and second turns was always a crap shoot. The reason we were so concerned was that the car starting third (inside on the second row) was one of the “squirrels” who had a habit of “pushing” in the turns (sliding towards the outside). He was a nice guy but not much of a driver. The pit grandstand was in the first turn so we were right there when ‘all hell broke loose’. As Alan and I’d predicted, the “squirrel” went into the turn and it didn’t seem like he ever turned the steering wheel. He drove right into the side of the car directly outside of him and they headed for the outside retaining rail. The car right in front of Cliffy drove right into the two cars… and Cliffy should’ve been involved… but somehow managed to yank the wheel to his left and missed them. He didn’t go unscathed as he actually drove into the side of the car that started along side him but hit his side rails and continued on. The race was stopped to clean up the mess and when they repositioned the cars for the restart we found our car starting fifth… a tremendous break for us.

By half way (12 laps) Cliffy was running second… with at least three or more car lengths back to the third place car. The crew was all excited because the car that was leading was one we had consistently beaten the previous year. But, like they say “don’t count your chickens” because there was another wreck and then a restart which had us starting on the outside… and with all the fast cars now all caught up and with C J right on our bumper. I honestly can’t say I know what exactly happened when the green flag flew to restart the race but C J dove to the inside. When he did he hit the rear bumper of the car who was inside of Cliffy and the next thing we knew Cliffy was in front. There was no yellow flag and the race continued with Cliffy in the lead. On the white flag lap (meaning one more to go) C J was actually pushing Cliffy… and that’s the way they finished. It was truly unbelievable that for two years in a row we’d won the opening night feature.

Even though we weren’t among the ‘elite’ racers at the track, Cliffy was friends with most of them. It was like a parade as they came by to congratulate him. One who I was looking forward to seeing was C J to hear what he though about the finish. But it was only “Seeg”, his father that I saw. He walked up with his hand out and I thought it was to congratulate me (us). He had a stern look on his face and in somewhat of gruff voice told me we needed to come up with $200 more for the heads we’d bought from them. That was a shock, for sure. Alan had been standing near me and heard the request. I’ve always been a bit too serious and I’d ‘bitten’ on "Seeg's" joke. Alan picked up on it right away and called “Seeg” out on it. He started laughing and I stood there feeling foolish. By the time I realized I’d been ‘had’, C J was talking with Cliffy. Standing next to him was his girlfriend, Karen. As I walked up to them Karen turned around to walk away and what I saw was like an illustrated VPL. She’d obviously been sitting on something that was dirty and the crotch line of her panties was just like someone had traced it on her pants. Cliffy had won… the team had won… and I had won!

     

Feature Winner... May17, 1969

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171s)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171s)

The problem was that I couldn’t ‘buy in’ at that moment. I’d called Elle before I left the bank to meet with Dotty to tell her I’d be late. When ‘pressed’ by her I told her I’d be home by 6:30pm… or 6:45pm at the latest. A glance at my watch showed it was past 6:15pm and from the bowling alley it was at least 40 minutes. She was ‘primed’ and all set to listen to what I had to say so it was definitely a let down for her. We left it that if she’d stay late the next evening (it was a Friday and the bank was open until 6pm) I’d be able to go over my thoughts with her. I closed by saying that I hoped she had “tough skin” because some of it would probably be hard for her to hear. The look on her face turned to one of determination and she nodded her head that she understood. Getting out of the car she ducked her head back inside and made the comment that Moira had told her that I was a “caring person” and that I “could be trusted”. Flattering words for sure but I wasn’t sure how to take them in this situation.

You already know Elle wasn’t in the best of moods when I finally walked into the kitchen. There was a rehearsal for the PTA play at 7:30pm and it was now after 7pm. She really didn’t have to leave at that moment but I’m sure she did to make a point. I was left to warm up my supper, clean up and then wash the dishes. It wasn’t that big of a deal but I’d just put in over 9 hours at work and was looking for a little ‘down time’. While eating the phone rang and it was Jonesie, the town handyman who’d been doing some work at the house next door. I’d asked him a few times if he knew when the new owners of the house would be moving in. He’d told me he didn’t but would let me know if he got any information… and he had some. The project he’d been working on (building a deck on the back of the house) had been completed and he hadn’t been paid so had been calling the owner to find out when he’d get his money. The answer he got was that he’d get it when they got there. He told me it was like “pulling teeth” to pin them down when that would be… and it would be in about two weeks, Memorial Day weekend. I thanked him for the call but before I could hang up he hit me with a request. Jonesie was legendary around the school, attending as many of the athletic events he could, helping out with PTA fund raisers, supporting various extra curricular activities in and around the school and volunteering on projects when he could. He wanted me to help out backstage for the PTA play.

I know I’ve described Jonesie in any number of previous posts. A ‘character’, for sure, but also a really good guy. I think the answer I gave him was that I couldn’t because I was baby sitting what with Elle in the play. He shot right back at me that he knew my mother-in-law baby sat for us all the time… because his wife played bridge with her a couple of times a week. We bantered back and forth a bit and then I remembered Paula. She’d agreed to come over when Elle had play practice and I had to work on the race car so she was an alternative. Jonesie kept on ‘pressing’ and I finally gave in when I asked what it was I’d be doing. “Lights” was his answer and it would only be for three nights.  He said he couldn’t really explain it on the phone but as long as I didn’t have a fear of heights I’d be fine and then he hung up.

During the day on Friday I’d managed to tell Dotty to wait to come to my desk until both Bret and Trish had gone. When she sat down she had a pencil and a pad, just like I’d told her to. It’d been a fairly slow day and one that I even got to run over to the stock broker’s office to see Lynda and Ruthe who was back to work. I hardly recognized her as she’d lost weight that she really couldn't afford to lose. It was kind of awkward. I’d talked with her on the phone once and at that time she sort of thanked me being there right after her husband had beaten her. I’d thought about it a lot right after that day and wondered if she really ever saw me there. But it didn’t really matter now because she was back to work and, other than the weight loss, you wouldn’t see any evidence of the beating. But, that was on the outside. Always a bit ‘off-putting’, she almost seemed withdrawn as I tried to tell her how good it was to see her again.

Dotty was eager to get started. I asked her to let me have my say before asking any questions or commenting. That brought a frown to her face at which time I told her we didn’t have to go through with it and that I understood that hearing some of what I would say might be hard for her to grasp. I remember her taking a deep breath and looking down. I waited for a few seconds before beginning. I have detailed notes but I’ll spare you most of it, concentrating on the main points. I told her that the first thing she needed to do was get new clothes. I told her the way she’d been coming to work was intimidating the others. I told her she looked like she was going to work on Wall Street. Observing her, she was straining to say something and I remember putting my finger up to my lips to stop her. My suggestion was to just look around at the others and to “dress down” picking out comfortable clothes that still exhibited somewhat of a “professional” look. I also told her that high heels were totally out of place. That was the easy part. When I got into attitude I knew I was going to get ‘push-back’ but, again, reminded her not to speak. Talking about clothes got only a slight push forward on her chair. When I started in on how she was looked at by the others I thought she was going to come right off the seat. I told her the way she was being perceived was the main problem. Her manner of speaking was that of someone who thought themselves to be better than others… like she was talking down to them. Knowing that Hobie had discussed the fact that none of the women had attended, let alone graduated, from college and that, basically, was a problem for them in dealing with her. But, she seemed to be adding to that by the way she dealt with them.

The one thing I remember about this incident was that the look on her face never changed. The furrows on her brow were as deep as I’d ever (consciously) observed on a person. I talked for at least fifteen minutes straight. I reminded her that none of what I told her was in the form of an order but was in response to our conversation. When I finished I tried to ease the transition to having her talk by asking if she wanted to take the weekend to think about what I’d said, hinting strongly that it might be a good idea. She started to say something a couple of times but ended up agreeing that’s what she’d do… and asking if she could come in early Monday morning to meet with me. When she stood up the sorrows were gone and there was a hint of relief on her face. As she walked away from my desk I had the feeling that she’d give serious consideration to my comments. I hoped she would.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171r)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171r)

Before leaving I made a call upstairs to Moira and asked her what her impression of Dotty had been. Surprised by the question, she hesitated but said her initial impression was she liked her. I thought that was all she was going to say but then, just as I was about to hang up she added that she didn’t think she was going to stay. That wasn’t what I was looking to hear or, for that matter expected. As I stated in the previous post I thought Dotty was in a category above the normal employee. In that, I was hoping to groom her for possibly a higher position after she’d gained some experience. So, on the short trip to the diner I tried to imagine just how the conversation would start and then proceed. I knew it would be interesting.

Being noon time, the diner was crowded. Dotty was at the counter but there were no other seats nearby. I walked up to her and the smile on her face could’ve lit up a dark room. Her first words were something along the lines of “I didn’t think you’d come… “. Looking around I couldn’t see an open booth so asked her to order me a BLT with the idea of going out to my car to eat it and to talk. It seemed like forever to get my sandwich. Once in my car she didn’t waste any time getting to the point she wanted to make. She referenced her chat with Hobie and that she appreciated what he had to say about the local ‘culture’. She went on that she’d taken his advice and asked to speak privately with Cara and that had gone moderately well but she wasn’t sure that, in the long run, it was going to change anything about Cara’s mindset. She told me she was impressed with Moira’s thoughts about me and that’s why she left the notes on my desk. She told me she wanted to talk with someone who would listen to her and not to just slough her off. I don’t  remember saying anything at that point and gave her a nod to start talking.

We didn’t have a lot of time before she was due back at work so I encouraged her to give me a quick version of whatever it was she wanted to be heard and I’m going to condense that even more. Basically, her story is of a poor little rich girl but with a number of twists and turns. Her parents divorced before she started school. She said her mother sought the divorce because her husband wasn’t “ambitious enough”. Her mother found an older man who owned and ran a couple of big companies and married him thereby satisfying her desire to have “status”. Dotty said that to her mother and stepfather she was “excess baggage” and was sent to private schools and then to Smith College, a prestigious women’s school, spending as little time with them as could be arranged. She told me her mother controlled her completely not letting her make any decisions. Her mother had a friend who had a son at Yale University and she basically arranged their marriage. Dotty told me that she’d been married for many years before she found out that it was pretty much an arranged marriage. Her stepfather had promised her husband a good job with one of his companies along with an apartment in the city. Dotty admitted that at first it seemed to work but after two sons were born her husband got “bored” with her. By then he’d made enough money to buy a Summer place (she noted that was where she was living) and that became her “refuge”. She went on that her husband had a mistress and even though she knew  had not said or done anything about it until the sons were out of college. Then, she pressed him for a divorce which he readily gave her. However, even though she was the aggrieved party, the husband wasn’t willing to give her much in the way of spousal support. The husband of one of her friends took her side and, as silly as it sounds, she accepted the Summer home as the settlement.

Now, as hard as it was to listen to all of this I never once opened my mouth… until then. I do remember having a frown on my face while listening to it though. When I finally spoke I asked her how she was managing to pay her bills what with taxes, maintenance and her daily living expenses. Her answer was a ‘knowing smile’… almost smug. Speaking very quietly and slowly, almost as if she thought someone was listening in to the conversation, she said the man representing her told her it was a good deal because she could sell the property for far more that she’d ever get in the form of money. Hearing that led to my next question. She’d told me earlier she was living there and I had to know how that was possible. The property had a guest house and when she sold the property she got a lifetime tenancy to live there.

By then it was almost 1pm and what I’d heard was nice ‘fill’, or background, but didn’t explain why she wanted to tell her “story”. When I told her that she became very animated and blurted out one statement that made me hesitate… “I don’t need to work but I HAVE to work!” with the emphasis on “have” and pleaded to continue. In spite of my curiosity I knew that would create a problem because she’d be late back to work and I didn’t want to be associated with that in any way shape or form. So, going against all basic instincts I told her that I could meet her out at the same bowling alley that I’d met both Gina and then Lynda to work out some things with them. It was an easy run for her because she had to drive past it on her way home. I sat there as she got out and wondered how much further was I going to take this... did I think she was worth the effort or should I just bite the bullet and let her walk away. I still didn’t have an answer when I pulled into the bank parking lot.

I managed to let her know it would probably be around 5:30pm before I’d get there. It didn’t seem to bother her. Even though no bank employee lived in that direction I wanted to make sure there could or would not be a connection between the two of us. When I pulled up to her car she was already standing beside it and hopped right in. It was as if her mouth was in motion before her bottom hit the seat. She went right to her statement about having to work. To me her statement made no sense especially after she’d told me she’d benefited from the sale of the property she’d won in the divorce settlement. I told her to “slow down” and explain it so that I could understand it. She went back to the part where she accepted the sort of ‘arranged’ marriage to ‘escape’ her mother. She’d never been allowed to make decisions on her own with her mother always directing her. She said she thought it would be different when she was married but her husband was another “control freak”. I remember the look she had on her face when she said that when the divorce decree was granted it was the first time in her life that she would be able to decide things for herself. For a few seconds she seemed to be relaxed… but it quickly changed. The sum and substance of her statement was that here she was, a 46 year old woman who had never done anything on her own. She’d traveled and met some “interesting people” but had never been allowed to interact with them. She had a college degree abut had never, even once, put it to use. The reason for wanting the job was to prove to herself that she was worth something and not just a “bauble” as she said her husband sometimes called her. At that point I was ready to ‘buy in’.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171q)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171q)

The new teller trainee, Dotty, was assigned to Cara for her training. That turned out to be a mistake. Trish was opposed to hiring her and, if you remember, Trish’s best friend was Cara. Added to that was the two of them had been members of the old Polish Mafia. It was Joanie, the receptionist, whose desk was right next to Cara’s teller station who brought it to my attention. I’m not going to deny that Dotty exuded sophistication and that was certainly missing among most of our staff. I was the first college graduate hired by the bank and that was only 3 1/2 years earlier. J J soon followed but there had been no females except for one young woman I’d hired knowing she was only going to be with us for about a year. She had a bit of a ‘rough patch’ after starting because of it but her goal wasn’t to make friends but to make money while waiting for her husband to finish his tour of duty at the Air Force base located just down the road. Remembering back to when she was being trained I had to keep reminding her of that and it worked. But this was different. Dotty didn’t have a time frame within which to work. I needed to put an end to the problem before loosing her.

Help came form an unexpected source… Hobie. Hobie had shown what I felt had been favoritism towards Lorie right from the time I started with the bank. It came to a head when I got permission to create a new position… chief clerk… to oversee the daily work of the tellers. It should’ve fallen to the head teller, Leticia, but she’d been promoted to the position only because she’d worked at the bank for over 25 years and the Trustees liked her. She wasn’t capable of supervising or decision making and I needed someone in that role. I wanted to promote Gina, a very good teller, who I felt was perfect for the job. But, Hobie wouldn’t let me, insisting that Lorie get the position. As it turned out she’d done a very good job even though she’d never worked as a teller or had any supervisory experience. Ironically, she was also a member of the old Polish Mafia. For some reason Hobie had had a number of conversations with Dotty and it was obvious to me that he liked her. Knowing his feelings towards Lorie I decided to approach him to speak to Lorie about the situation. He was surprised and told me that Dotty hadn’t complained so I had to explain how I’d found out. I knew I was taking a chance and could possibly make it worse for Dotty and told him of my concern. He assured me it wouldn’t be a problem. I sure hoped he was right.

Of all the scenarios I’d envisioned I hadn’t come up with the one that actually took place. I fully expected to see Lorie headed for Hobie’s area but she stayed at her desk. What I saw was Hobie walk up to Cara’s window and then saw Dotty leave the window and go with Hobie over to his desk. Of course I wasn’t a party to what was said and when I saw Dotty returning she was smiling. I was puzzled. There was no way I was going to say anything to her and thought about asking Hobie how it had gone but decided against it. The best I could do was just observe how Dotty and Cara got along. But, before I could see anything they both disappeared, heading for the back work area. I came up with an excuse to go into the work area expecting to see them talking with Lorie. But… there was no sign of either of them. Now I was completely ‘lost’ as to what was going on.

What I’m going to write here is to say that it turned out to be a valuable lesson for me. It took some time but I was able to find out that Hobie had told Dotty to take her concerns right to the source… Cara. However, what he also did was to give Dotty a brief education on the Polish way of life, at least in our geographic area, explaining that females were held back from college to ‘help out at home (or on the farm)’. He pretty much told her that what she was experiencing was a form of jealousy on the part of Cara and the best way to counter it was to tell Cara she was assigned her because she was the best teller at the bank. It worked… at least as far as Cara was concerned.

Hobie also told Dotty that it was me that had brought the situation to his attention. As I stated in the paragraph above, it took some time for it all to come out… and it was quite by accident. As you know one of my interests had always been cars. Dotty, like all the regular employees, would leave at 5pm. One night not long after the above took place, she’d stayed late to go over some things with Lorie before she was given her own cash box. When she finally left she found her car wouldn’t start and when she got back to the bank Mike had left the door to do his day ending chores. I heard the rapping on the back door and when I got there saw Dotty looking absolutely distraught.

Dotty had walked to her car with Moira. Moira was somewhat similar in age to Dotty and it was the first time they’d met. When Dotty’s car didn’t stop Moira still hadn’t gotten to her car and turned around to check on her. Moira certainly knew of my interest in cars since I’d arranged to get her’s back up and running so suggested Dotty go back to see if I could help her. I had jumper cables so I drove her back to her car. On the way she thanked me but didn’t stop there as she proceeded to tell me of the praise Moira had heaped one for having helped her. At her car she wanted to know more about me. I definitely remember looking at my watch and noted that I would be getting home after 6pm. I really didn’t want to go that route but I also didn’t want to shut her off. I tried to explain my dilemma and she accepted it but with a promise from me that we’d have a conversation and share some information about each others backgrounds. I got her car started and as she drove away I had the definite feeling that this was a special person. Not in the same sense that Mae was but, in my mind, she was already ‘a keeper’ and I’d need to keep my eyes on her.

The next day she dropped a note on my desk right after arriving. She wanted to go to lunch with me to take me up on my “promise” from the prior afternoon. It wasn’t that I was overly busy but more what might be made of it by others like Bret and Trish that I hesitated. When I didn’t respond by the time she was leaving for lunch I saw her drop another note on my desk. Reading it, she’d posted that she was going to the diner on the round about just down the street. That was all that the note contained. I don’t know how long it was before I got up and headed for my car even though the diner was within walking distance.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171p)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171p)

From the racetrack to Davo’s house took less than an hour. It would’ve been a little less “exciting” if it had been dark out… but it was still daylight… and all I could do was hold my breath on a few occasions. The arrangement was that Beth would stop at Davo’s to pick me up and there was no doubt that he would get there before she would. I wrote about the uniqueness of Davo’s house a while back when I got stuck during a snow storm and ended up staying overnight. There was no property to speak of and local ordinances didn’t allow parking on the street overnight so space was allocated for that purpose in the parking lot behind the post office for him. The house had a very small back yard and there was a low chain link fence between it and the parking lot. The space along side the fence was designated as “private” for parking for the two vehicles that Davo and Leigh had. When we pulled up the first thing I saw was was the wash line. It appeared there was nothing but underwear, male and female, on it. Davo parallel parked the car and there, right next to the car at my eye level, were a number of Leigh’s panties. Davo had parked the car so close to the fence that neither Leigh nor I could exit the car on that side. He got out immediately and called for Leigh to slide across the seat. I had to do the same as I’d ridden behind Leigh. I was concentrating on the clothes line for as long as I could but changed my focus when I heard Davo chide Leigh by calling her “potty pants”. I swiveled my head to see Leigh just exiting the car and saw a definite dark patch on her bottom as she stood up. By the time I was out she’d disappeared around the front of the car. I don’t think Davo was trying to ‘protect’ her by getting my attention when he asked me if I thought the race car would have a good season. There was no reason for me not to answer so I knew that the quick glance of Leigh’s backside would be it for me. We talked for about five minutes before Beth showed up and then I was on my way home.

It had been a really nice day, especially for early May. I found Elle had taken the kids to her mother’s for the afternoon. When she told me about her day she mentioned that Paula hadn’t gone home for the weekend… and was excited to tell me that she’d volunteered to baby sit the kids on the nights she had play practice and I had to work on the race car. That was really big news! Since she’d been a part of the solution to what had clearly been my problem I was ‘off the hook’ and was pretty much free to do what I wanted. Elle told how excited the kids were to find out she’d be coming over on a couple of nights for a few weeks. Elle also volunteered that Paula welcomed the contact with her and that she’d be over the next afternoon. I asked why, not that I had a problem with it,  but curious as to what she had planned. I’d hoped to take advantage of the good weather to get a head start on preparing for Summer with Elle’s help. Her answer was that Paula still needed help in creating lesson plans. There wasn’t much I could say.

The weather had held up on Sunday and I was able to get a lot done around the exterior of the house after church… washing the screens for the porch and all the furniture that went on it. I was able to get Elle to help with washing windows and that’s what she was doing when Paula arrived. Her old Peugeot was still running and each time I saw it I wondered how… and why. I thought her arrival was the end of Elle’s help but, Paula, seeing what Elle was doing, offered to join in. I’d learned early on that it’s a good thing when somebody volunteers. To get to the upper part of the windows a step ladder was needed. I had two so that wasn’t a problem. I armed Paula with the necessary items to do the job and turned her over to Elle. However, I did take a minute or two to watch how she went about it. Pretty much a ‘city girl’, working from a step ladder was a bit of a challenge. It was actually funny watching her climb up even though she only needed to climb three steps. What caught my attention was that she sort of put her butt out while grasping the top of the ladder with two hands. With the sun shining on her back, that little motion was enough to show a nice VPL… something to keep my eye on as the afternoon moved on. In the few times Paula had been to the house I’d been able to garner a look at both a pair of her panties (not on her body) that were bikinis as well as a DP which showed her wearing full briefs. Most of the bikinis I’d seen up close and personal had a much reduced crotch as compared to full brief panties. The size of the crotch line indicated that they were probably full briefs and that meant a chance for another DP. It was like motivation for me for the rest of the afternoon.

Naturally, as I fully expected, Elle invited Paula to stay to eat with us. Sundays were nothing special like it had been when I lived with my grandparents. With them it was a major event. It was the highlight of the week and resulted in left-overs for a few days into the week. Elle wanted no part of that so it was pretty much the same fare as we ate during the week. However, for Paula, it was special. Living with Elle’s parents she didn’t have kitchen privileges and had to fend for herself often eating a sandwich for both lunch and supper. Because Elle had been working outside she decided on something real quick and simple… meat loaf. Hers was kind of ‘pedestrian’ without much in the way of garnishments but, to Paula, it was gourmet eating. The girls had pleaded with both Paula and Elle to let them play some games after we all ate. Elle had made a ‘deal’ that if they got their homework done before supper she’d allow it. The easiest way to play games with the kids was on the floor. I also knew it was a good way to get decent DP’s as well as some VPL’s. As they cleared the table I found myself almost anxious to get started.

Most of the games for the kids were for four players. Kaye, the youngest, wasn’t able to comprehend some of the rules and Elle agreed to help her I sat on the sofa to watch as it gave me the best view of both Elle and Paula without having to worry about Elle following my gaze. Paula had worn a pair of light gray pants (chinos, I think) which by their nature gave off a good VPL. She’d worn a cardigan sweater over a flowered blouse and after a short while on the floor she chose to (thankfully) take it off. Instant nirvana! The panties were, indeed, full briefs and were light pink. I wasn’t close enough to positively identify the maker by the waist elastic but if I’d had to have placed a bet I would’ve chosen Vanity Fair. Over the course of an hour I had probably a good twenty minutes of a mixture of DP’s and VPL’s.

Elle had promised to spend time going over Paula’s lesson plan problem so I ended up having to fill in for both of them. Elle was a little less harsh when administering the rules of the games giving Kaye the benefit of the doubt. But I wasn’t. I felt she should learn them the right way right from the start. So, the game playing came to a contentious end with Kaye mad at me and the older two smug in knowing that they’d been right. As Paula was leaving I gave her a couple of dates that she could count on for baby sitting and to top it off, Elle invited her for supper on those nights. That certainly cemented the possibility of more panty peeks over the next few weeks.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171o)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171o)

Even though I’d lived in the city for a while I’d never been, or even seen, Columbia University, in spite of it’s well known reputation. I think the hardest part to accept when seeing it for the first time was that there really was a campus with grass even though it was in the heart of the city. Dan had gotten his Master’s degree in business there and done it while working full time. His familiarity with the campus made it easy for him to get where we were going. The business office was a completely different part of the the University so all I got was cursory look around. Even with just a ‘peek’, it was impressive. Dan wasn’t able to meet with the person who could/would make the decision on our request but he was able to lay out what our needs were. A definite benefit to our quest was that the Board chairmen of two of the member banks were not only graduates but their banks were donors to their annual fund. Dan was sure we’d have no trouble.

It was a ‘flying trip’ on and through the campus and the disappointment was in not being able to see many of the female students. It was Springtime and the weather was getting warmer which meant skirts were getting higher. Remember, the ‘pants revolution’ had not taken over women styles yet and the hems were certainly higher in the city than they were in the country. The reason I bring this up is because, in the short time I’d known him, Dan had proven to be an inveterate observer of female backsides and what looking at them might bring forth. I remember him telling me to keep my eyes open. As we headed back for the subway he grabbed my arm and told me to look to my right. I did and saw a female trying to corral some papers that had blown out of her hands. Fortunately for her (and us) they hadn’t gotten too far away and we watched her bend over to pick them up. My eyes had to have bugged out of my head when I saw what had to have been the best VPL I’d ever seen. When I say best I could’ve also use the word biggest. The half moon of the crotch line was almost beyond belief. I just stood there (probably with my mouth open) while Dan kept repeating “Holy cow!” over and over. We got at least 20 seconds to observe it before she headed off with the papers now nestled in her arms. Neither of us got a real good look at her face but it didn’t matter. We stood there for a few minutes discussing just what it was that she was wearing that would make such an impression. I knew that Elle’s sanitary panties with the plastic crotch that she often wore with her partial ‘package’ had a bigger crotch than any of her regular panties, including the Van Raaltes that I loved. Dan was without a clue so I filled him about the sanitary panties. He volunteered he’d never seen (or noticed) what his wife wore when she was on her period. In any case, she had on a blue skirt that went down to her knees with just a little flare at the hem. For a crotch panty line to show up on a skirt was extremely rare. So, with that as the topic of discussion he promised to bring me back the following month and take a stroll through the populated area of the campus. In listening to him describe it I could almost see him drooling with anticipation. Something else to look forward to.
     

This is not the woman we saw but this crotch line is similar in size to it...

 The first week with the new arrangement at the branch went smoothly… at least there were no calls from Betsy or Mae. Alan had made the trip to Connecticut to get the new tires for the race car. Of course there had to have been a price increase but Marv, the owner of the tire company, told Alan to have the added money when we showed up for practice. Elle had gone to the first readings for the PTA school play and it didn’t take long for Phyllis to recognize that Elle was NOT an actress, at least one who spoke lines. She was designated for a limited speaking part, the Queen. Elle was excited about that because she’d have the most fancy costume. Her role was simple… sit on her throne and observe the action taking place in front of her. I asked if she had to go to all the rehearsals and she said she wanted to… tired of being at home with just Kaye all day. Cliffy decided on going to the second practice with the car. The other crew members had gone to the first one just to observe and to get an idea of how some of the other guys looked as some were to show up with new cars and some with new motors. That following week I talked with Alan and he said it was about the same as the previous year. He said we should be competitive based on some of the times he took when the cars were on the track and at speed. 

Rob, or Robo as he sometimes wanted to be called showed up at the track the Saturday we practiced. He’d joined our pit crew for a while the previous Summer and had brought some sponsorship in the form of racing engine oil. He'd had some problems at home and dropped out but had kept the oil coming. Being that we changed oil after each race and with an enlarged oil pan , we were going through eight quarts a week so it added up. He arrived with two cases which, with no motor problems, was good for about six weeks. Cliffy was anxious to get on the track and when he did pull out he found C J on the track with him. I didn’t like that because Cliffy seemed to always want to prove to C J that we were just as fast as he was… and it usually never went well for us. But, they didn’t get to ’square off’ against each other for long as a car crashed into the guard rail and they had to shut down the track to clean it up. When we left the shop Cliffy told us ten hard laps was all he’d do wanting to save the tires for actual racing. We only got in six so we were good to go. There were no oil leaks and the car handled well, especially considering the last time it had raced it had ended up brushing the wall. The day, for me, was topped off in seeing C J’s girl friend, Karen, wearing her nice tight white jeans and me getting a VPL as well.

Davo showed up after Cliffy had decided not to go back on the track. As usual, Leigh, his girlfriend was with him and also, as usual, she was a little ‘tipsy’. As it had become my custom when she was around and ’tipsy’, I kept taking peeks at her crotch area but there was nothing to see. Because it was a Saturday afternoon Beth, Cliffy’s wife brought her three oldest kids (two boys and a girl) along. She’d driven their station wagon along with Ra, Dick’s wife, and their two sons. The race car hauler had a bench type seat and Cliffy had promised all the boys a ride on the way home and the four of them fit. That relegated Alan, Buster, Dick and I to riding with Beth, her daughter and Ra. It was going to be crowded but Davo, who’d hung around until the end of practice, offered to give one of us a ride. As I’ve mentioned a number of times in previous posts, Davo could consume an enormous amount of alcohol without showing it. However, that didn’t lessen the fact that he was technically impaired. None of us really wanted to ride with him so we played ‘dollar poker’ with one dollar bills to see who was the (un)lucky one. It was me. 

To be continued…

             

LIFE GOES ON... andon... (Part 171n)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 170n)

Because Jerry and I didn’t see ‘eye to eye’ on just about anything, Hobie said he’d be the one to explain what was taking place at the branch. His ‘take’ on the reaction of the staff there was that of indifference… which surprised me… but made sense when I thought about it. As soon as he returned to the main office I was on the phone to Betsy as she’d been the one to relay any of Jerry’s transgressions to me. As I stated earlier, I’d been disappointed that she didn’t say anything to me about my part in her promotion and raise so I was a little concerned as to what she’d say when I called to get her ‘read’ on how the others had taken the news. Her answer of “I’m sure we’ll get it all worked out…” was a bit disconcerting. Being that everything that had transpired right up to the action being taken seemed positive, it was a surprise. But, it was done and we’d all have to see how it worked itself out. In a way I felt like an ‘outsider’ even though I’d originated the whole concept.

Trish was still a bit upset that I hadn’t shared much of the background the led up to the changes. When I asked to see the file of job applications to replace Mae she was almost ’short’ with me by saying there wasn’t much I’d be interested in. I told her I wanted to see it anyway. She was pretty much ‘right on the money’ with no one with teller or even money handling experience. I hated the thought of running a want ad because we’d have to cull though a lot of people who, experience had told me, hadn’t really read the ad to begin with. I can not tell you what made me run through them a second time but when I did I saw one that made me want to interview her regardless of the lack of experience. It was for a forty something woman who hadn’t worked since she was in high school. She had a college degree but it seemed that she’d never made use of it. I asked Trish if she remembered ever talking to her and she did. Then I asked what it was that made her remember the woman. Now, you’ve read here that right from the time I started at the bank I thought Trish was very bright and someone who should’ve had the opportunity to go to college. Since she didn’t, she seemed to have a ‘chip on her shoulder’ when it came to dealing with women who had. So, I was ready for her answer… the woman had gone to college, gotten a degree and then “wasted’ it by getting married.

I will have to admit I was somewhat taken aback when she showed up for the interview. A very attractive woman, about 5’5” tall with blonde hair… and dressed to ‘the hilt’. By that I mean she looked like she was going to work in the city. Really fine clothes stand out and hers fit her like they’d been made for her. As soon as she opened her mouth I couldn’t help wonder what had ever led her to file an application with the bank. She was polite and well spoken, almost to a fault, especially in a rural town with little to no culture. I was almost afraid to ask just why she’d done it. I don’t remember the actual question I asked but I do remember her two word answer… “Marital difficulties…” and then waving her hand across the front of her face indicating that would be the end of that discussion. She confirmed that she’d never worked at all but had been an accounting major in college. Hearing that I was afraid to tell her the only position I had was as a teller. He immediate response to that was “You do have training, don’t you?”. When I said we did she asked if all the tellers we had out on the line had had previous experience before starting. That pretty much stopped anything more I had to ask. With her sitting right there at my desk I looked at her address on the application and it was in a town where some of the areas richest people lived. I’d not paid any attention to that information on it, scanning the other things as being more important. It took a minute or so for me to get ‘back on track’  and then I asked, point blank, if she were to be hired and trained how long would it be until she got bored and left. I thought that would put an end to the interview. But, when she heard it she moved forward in her chair and it was like her eyes were on fire when she said “I’ll become your best damned teller, guaranteed!”. She’d thrown down a challenge and I took it. We settled on the first Monday in May for her to start. The one concession I did make was to her starting pay. She argued that her college degree had to count for something so I  offered her the equivalent of two annual pay raises. She walked away happy but Trish was anything but happy when I told her.

One of the things I’d not written about because it didn’t directly involve me was that Pat (the PTA lady) had gotten Elle involved in being in the first ever PTA play. Each year the PTA sponsored a fund raising affair and this year it was to be a play. Phyllis, the principal’s wife (and former neighbor) had written and was directing it. Because of the ‘coolness’ between Phyllis and Elle from back when they had moved, the two had had little to do with each other during the Summer and Fall. However, Phyllis had made an ovature towards Elle to ease the tension. It had also seemed that Elle was being ignored when it came to substituting at the school in town and she felt it would help her situation. So, when asked to participate in the play she gave a somewhat reluctant “Yes..”. The play was scheduled for the weekend before Memorial Day so being the end of April it was time for rehearsals to start… and that would involve me if for no other reason than babysitting. The timing wasn’t the greatest as the racing season was about to begin. Experience had shown there were going to be nights we’d have to work on the car that weren’t scheduled and I’d be expected to show up at the garage. Once Elle committed to something it was a total commitment so we’d have to come up with a possible baby sitter for those nights. Just another in a never ending list of things to do.

My trip to the city for the monthly banking associations meeting of the Personnel Management Committee proved to be very beneficial to me. I knew my idea for creating a program for member banks to train their training people was going to be on the agenda so was excited about it. However, the primary item for discussion turned out to be the upcoming School of Saving Banking scheduled for September. They were having trouble with finding qualified speakers/presenters for the program who were available. A number of key people were already committed for the week that had been reserved at the facility they were to hold classes. The net result was a discussion and decision to try and rearrange the date for some time in March. It was the consensus of the committee that rather than to put on a “half-assed” program, it would be best to take the time to make it right. My friend Dan was available (and willing) to go to the facility to do the negotiations. At the break he approached me and asked if I’d like to go with him. The facilities were owned and maintained by Columbia University and their business offices were only minutes away. I was surprised… and honored, to be asked… so said “yes” even though it would create a problem as far as getting home was concerned.

To be continued…

LIFE GOES ON... and on... (Part 171m)

LIFE GOES ON… and on… (Part 171 m)

Even though I didn’t get the details of Jerry’s reaction to his “downgrade”, I knew what his new responsibilities were and they weren’t much. In thinking about it now I liken it to being a crook, getting caught and then being told I had to serve my punishment by going to Boca Raton. It was the best of all worlds for him in that he was still an officer with no reduction in pay and, basically, no responsibilities. All he had to do was come in to the office, open the vault, go into his office and open new accounts all day, countersign checks in amounts over $1,000 and then reverse the procedure at the end of the day. The hardest part for him was in knowing that he had two sets of eyes watching him all day long and knowing that if he strayed from that routine it would be noted in a log and called in to the main office to me or to Bret. When it was ‘going down’ my perverse mind was reveling in the fact that he would be under the control of two women who were actually under him in rank. Bret and I’d talked on more than one occasion about how much his wife controlled him. Now, both Betsy and Mae would be controlling him as well.

I’d not been a party to the discussions concerning the change in responsibilities for Betsy and Mae. I’ve written about how smart I felt Mae was and after her ’one on one’ with Hobie she made a point of stopping to see me and thanking me for my part in it. It had been almost impossibly hard not to ‘leak’ some clues about what was going on but I’d not let her, Bret or Trish in on it. But, she knew. Through all the months of turmoil in dealing with Jerry I thought that Betsy and I’d worked well together. However, she never once acknowledged my part in getting her some sort of relief and a pay increase… and that did bother me.

There was another ‘concession’ made by the Board in resolving the situation. With Mae returning to the branch it increased their staff by one. We’d reduced the staff to five people not long after it was realized that we weren’t going to be as busy as hoped. Business hadn’t picked up all that much but when I ‘borrowed’ Mae for the main office I’d rehired the teller we’d let go back in the Summer. When rehired her I didn’t promise anything other than we had a temporary opening and she’d taken it. I’d reminded Hobie of that fact but with not much hope of retaining her so was pleasantly surprised when I was told she’d stay on. As I looked at the make up of the staff I felt confident that if Jerry did what he was told to do there shouldn’t be any more problems… and my life would be a bit easier.

During the eight days it took to resolve the situation I was busy doing the everyday things I always did… plus keeping both Bret and Trish ‘at bay’ as it all enfolded. One thing that helped was I really didn’t know what was going on ‘behind the scenes’. The only clue I gave them was that it had something to do with the recent Federal and State bank audits. When the original Federal auditor was replaced Hobie had told me to warn the staff that it was going to be a “rough go” until they all left. With that information as a basis I was hoping my short answer to their question(s) would suffice. Once the announcement was made about the changes I still kept the details to myself… even though I wanted to ‘editorialize’ them especially as it came to Jerry. The one thing that I would have to address was to hire another teller for the main office.

In my ‘other life’, I managed to get the sign I’d been working on for the country club finished and had gotten paid ($120). With the sponsorship money ($300) from the restaurant,  Cliffy had ordered the new tires we needed for the race car and Alan had gone to pick them up. Cliffy had decided to only attend one of the two practice sessions scheduled at the racetrack which worked out well for me. I was able to get a good head start on yard maintenance… leaves, dead bushes/plants, trimming etc. While doing it I saw the first vestiges of ‘life’ from the house next door. After the tree fell on it during the Winter and Jonesie, the local handyman, had done the repairs, there hadn’t been any activity there at all. I took a peek though the hedge opening (which needed to be opened up again) and saw Jonesie dismantling the back porch. I went over to see just what it he was going on.

There was one very unique, but negative, feature about both houses. They’d been built on the hill that had been created when they built the road. The front yards were at least twelve feet higher than the road. The houses were traditional in that the fronts faced the road but the difference between the two was that they had built a cement stairway from road level to the yard for my house and they hadn’t done the same on the other house. I’d often wondered why they’d bothered as there was no room to park cars along the road. So, in both cases the practical entry was to come up the driveway into the back yard and then come in through the kitchen. At our house it was from level ground with but one step. Next door, the land graded off to the East which caused them to have to build a small porch with four steps to get to the kitchen door. I’d never given it much thought but evidently the new owner had and he wanted to regrade the back yard and add some fill to make it level enough to eliminate the steps. I asked Jonesie if he had any information on when the owner and/or his family might show up. I definitely remember Jonesie shaking his head and smiling… but not answering.

As far as Elle and her pregnancy was concerned, she’d started on her iron rich diet to remedy her anemia. It wasn’t something I’d ever choose but I didn’t complain wanting to support her. She’d not had morning sickness in any of her other pregnancies and, thankfully, it looked like this one would be the same. At three plus months, her ‘bump’ was hardly noticeable and the only thing she had to adjust for in her clothes was that she could no longer wear her tailored slacks. The only thing that I noticed was that she was using the toilet even more than usual. The first time I asked about it she denied it… but that was typical of her. She finally admitted it when, at church, she didn’t make it down the stairs to the rest room during the service. When she left the pew and didn’t return after about fifteen minutes I pretty much knew the story. I’d noticed that she’d taken to wearing her ‘dribble’ panties all the time and had even seen her take the unusual step of wearing two pairs while at home. So, after we got home after the ’accident’ I pinned her down. What had been happening was that she no longer had a window of 2 to 2 1/2 hours between toilet visits. It was more like an hour and a half. Because she was still a little ‘up-tight’ about the ramifications of her pregnancy I’d been giving her the benefit of the doubt. On the occasions where she’d let me ‘play’ when she was wet it didn’t last for long. I made it clear to her that it was something I felt we could work on ourselves… if she’d let me. I won’t say she enthusiastically endorsed the idea but allowed she would listen to my thoughts.

To be continued…