DEALING WITH THE HEAT... & more (Part 174x)

DEALING WITH THE HEAT… & more (Part 174x)

The boy fell asleep after about 20 or so minutes. To give Junior some history, I drove through the middle of the town where I worked which took us past the family homestead and the bank. That eventually led to a conversation about what he did for a living. He’d given hints in the past that his relationship with his father had, at times, been somewhat contentious. The apex of that was after Junior finished college decided to get a Master’s degree in finance. His father had been planning on him joining him in his business but after being exposed to the “world of money” Junior went in another direction. They didn’t get back together until after Junior married Martha and they had a baby. In listening to Junior explain the current situation they were in a period of “agreeing to disagree” on everything but the grandchildren. Junior told me after grad school that he and his best friend went to work for a fledgling company that was trying something new in the world of finance. It was a company that brokered corporate and municipal bonds to the stock brokerage offices that dealt with the public. (I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t) It was hard to tell how successful he was seeing that I only saw him at the house next door and his father owned it. I couldn't get a 'read' from his car as it was far from a luxury model. I'd picked up some of the story on it during our little visits from house to house. Parking in the city was horrendous and new cars soon looked old. He and Martha had decided on a used car that was big enough for the whole family. He’d added there was no sports car in his immediate future.

I gave him some of the detail on my work for the bank. It ended when we pulled into the race track parking lot. The race car pit stall was just inside the entry gate to the pits so, even though Junior and his son couldn’t enter the pits they could get a good close view of it. I pointed him in the direction of the grandstand and told him which section to sit in to get the best view. The gates for the spectators had just opened and I told him I’d be up to visit when I could.

Nothing special or spectacular took place during the races for our division. We had no problem qualifying but Cliffy had trouble breaking out from the pack. All the racers knew the problem… too much power for the size of the track. It had been built right before WWII for a class of race cars called “midgets”. They were small and used tiny engines compared to what we used. Because the track had been built especially for them, it too, was small… 1/5 of a mile. By then (1969) midgets had fallen out of favor for the ‘masses’ but there was still a group of ‘old timers’ who liked to see them race. The track promoter had, right after the war, owned and driven one for a number of years and had promised to run one or two shows a year for them to race. I remember the first time I saw them I was amazed at how old the drivers were compared to the drivers of the cars cars I was involved with. In any case, the most memorable happening for that night was having one of those cars ride up over the wheel of another and go flying out over the wall and catch fence, disappearing into the night. The driver survived and, after seeing the remains of the car, I wondered how. So, when the fans were let into the pits and Junior and his son showed up at our car all they wanted to talk about was “the flying race car”. Cliffy had finished 10th which earned enough money for another tire but it wasn’t enough to impress Junior and his son.

For the trip home Junior made a valiant effort to be interested in the whole concept of car racing. That lasted for maybe twenty minutes so I decided to ask about Martha. Her coming from a foster home and now being part of, at least, the fringes of the ‘upper crust’ intrigued me. So, I asked how they met. The foster mother who she lived with in her pre and early teen years was a house maid who moonlighted as a server at catered affairs on weekends. The woman couldn’t afford someone to watch her so would bring Martha along. One of the affairs was sponsored by Junior’s father. Junior said he first saw her when she was a pre-teen and he’d just turned fourteen. He was “bored” and had run into Martha outside the kitchen. He didn’t go into detail but said they’d talked a bit and hit it off. He managed to stay somewhat connected through their teen years and, home on vacation while in college she was doing the serving at a Christmas gala. They re-connected and in spite of his parents disapproval he continued to see her. That’s as far as he got by the time we arrived home. He thanked me and told me the next time I had a meeting in the city to give him a call and we’d get together. As I drove up my driveway I was actually looking forward to taking him up on it.

I was hoping for an ‘easy’ Sunday with the word easy meaning no conflicts or controversy. When Elle had told me about the problem with some of the mothers of the children in the junior sailing program not fulfilling their obligation to chaperone the program I had contacted the Commodore of the club who said he’d look into it. With that done I let the subject pass. However, when I arrived at the club there was definitely something afoot. There wasn’t anyone preparing their boats for racing. The people who were there were gathered on the beach at the East corner of the porch. Walking towards them I could see most of the officers of the club up on the porch with the Commodore ‘holding court’. Not to belabor the point, the Board of Governors had convened the previous day and had issued a ‘decree’ that parents who neglected their chaperoning duties would have their children dropped from the program and the parents membership would be suspended. The officers ended up being the messengers… and were taking grief for it. To be truthful, I wanted to go and hide. I looked around and saw the husband of the woman who Elle had had her run-in with. He had a bunch of other men, all racers, gathered around him and it was plain to see some were not happy. I turned and walked towards one of my Sunfish boats to prepare it for racing but was, for lack of a better term, accosted by couple of them. I don’t have any notes or memory of what was said but I do remember what the result of the whole thing was… three of the racers verbally resigned from the club with a lot of hubris. There were things said by me and by the others that shouldn’t have been said. However, I hadn’t made the decision and had only been the messenger of the problem. For the day, the races were still held but with about five regular racers missing. When we finished up a number of those who had stayed came over to find out why those who’d left were so mad at me. I tried to explain my part in it and had a couple who sided with the Board of Governors and a few who thought it was too harsh a penalty. While we were talking one of those men came over and tried to explain their thinking. It seemed pretty simple… Either the parents did the job or the club would have to hire people to do it and fees for being in the program would have to go up… substantially.  They didn’t want to do that so the new policy was established. Overall, I was pleased, but not happy that I had to take the ‘heat’ for it. I could only hope that things at home would be calmer when I got there.

To be continued…