Leaving IKEA

 

The first IKEA in the Baltimore area was located in White Marsh off Rte 40. I had, by that time, moved on from simply estimating Earthworks, Utilites and Heavy Highway Construction, to Contracts Administration and Design Building of shopping centers, etc. IKEA was one of those projects.

Sue and I had gone to the Grand Opening. I have never enjoyed being tightly enclosed in heavily populated spaces. Ships are different. With the exception of Temporary Active Duty on an aircraft carrier, with thousands of crewmembers, I had always enjoyed vessels with small crews. 40 crewmembers on a 28,000 ton ship to a maximum of 272 on a ship like of 38,000 tons was my comfort zone. All my other ships were manned by crews of about 180. Rock concerts had ceased to be enjoyable and I sought music by Independent Artists in small venues.

So, when I found myself in the zoo like atmosphere of the 7 story IKEA, built like a maze, where you are forced to roam through the entire store beginning at the top and winding downward, I wanted out. And quickly. I knew there were Emergency Fire Exits on each floor, but there were no visible signs, which were required by law. I was there for the Fire Department Inspection, which was passed in order to receive the Certificate of Occupancy necessary to open. But I could not see the signs, as they were obscured by draperies, carpets and the like.

At the first two levels I asked for the location of these Exits and was repeatedly told there were none. I finally approached some store Manager, who told me the same thing. I handed him my business card, explained that I had built the store, modifying, as necessary, thier corporate plan. Moreover these Exits existed by law and I made it plain that I needed to use one immediately, if not sooner.

Of course, over the years, Sue learned early on to detach herself  from me when I was in "one of my moods." So she was merrily moving along with the crowd and shopping. At this point the Manager was getting on my nerves and so I suggested that he show me the Emergency Exit post haste. When I am initially annoyed I can be quite rude and loud. When pushed further my voice becomes ominously low and my speech deliberate. This is the point of danger.

I now demanded to be shown to the nearest Fire Exit and the steps which would lead me outside and down. He again refused my request. I replied that he really should reconsider his opinion before everyone would need to use the exits. He got my meaning, called Security, whereupon I was immediately escorted out via the hidden Exit. This was clearly my intention. Within 2 minutes I was breathing the fresh air of White Marsh, and listening to music in the car while enjoying my favorite pasttime of having a smoke.

About an hour later Sue returned, laden with packages, and smiling said, "Well, I see you got out of there." I looked at her and smiled back, saying, "Don't I always?" Then we went for dinner and we had forgotten the incident until she posted her experience in the store in Berlin today. We both had a laugh on the phone with her asking me how I had managed to get out of there.

The kicker to this story is that on the following Monday I phoned the Fire Inspector and informed him that the Fire Exit signs had all been either removed, or obscured. I met him at the store, he asked to see the Manager. The store was cleared of customers for about 90 minutes while all the Exits were cleared and a Warning issued about the repercussions of further Violations.

On another occasion I left the Convention Center in Baltimore by climbing over the railway and leaping to the top of the ticket booth and out to the street. The couple we were with, and their children, were all shocked. Sue was merely amused, especially when our younger son followed my lead. He, too, hates crowds. 🤣 
 

1982 - A Trilogy

How can one abandon
such strong feelings?
Am I that weak?
Are you that strong?
I look at what we had
and wonder...
Will i ever feel that way again?
Are there really other eyes out there
that sparkle like yours,
or shine like mine?
I really dont think so.
Turn it over,
look at the other side.
It was worth the changes,
the joys, the sorrows.
I can never forget
the way my heart pounded
at our first kiss.
Or  how time stopped when
i first entered you.
But now we are closed to one another,
and yet time moves on?
................

Sometimes i think i am
all that i need.
And at other times
I need you to be with.
It's so confusing
all of these
conflicting thoughts
and emotions.
If i seem to lean on us,
or you,
is that weakness?
Even the Pillars of Rome
had their faltering moments.
And this moment is mine.
............

How can i avoid
picking up the phone
to call you
when i feel like this?
You might call it weak,
but i don't think so.
Is it wrong to need one another?
(though it scares us both)
Do you need me?
When i ache inside,
can i lean on you?

 

"Mornings at Ramblewood" by Robert Williams

Of all the things my eyes have seen
in waking moments, fresh from dreams,
there is a memory still cuts keen
as sun cuts at the dawning.

I'd look at her there curled in sleep
afraid to move, I'd almost weep
at beauty that could cut so deep,
I'd wait to see her yawning.

Pondering how it came to be
that such beauty lay with me.
I'd watch her breathe and wait to see
her eyes light up the morning.

Wondering how, we'd come together
her first sigh, light as a feather,
became a crash like thunderous weather
her storm was as a warning.

Her sighs, her cries, her very eyes
were bright, as were the morning skies.
Her beauty almost made me cry
as I felt her body warming.

A touch, a kiss, afraid to miss
the smallest move which brought such bliss.
She opened like a blossom kissed
with dew from summer's storming.

These memories come from long ago
and speak of love I'd not yet known.
Remembering now how much I'd grown
I find myself in mourning.

For Leslie Ann Billmire
Hereford High School 1966
Baltimore Maryland
1949-1989

My Friend Edgar.

One of the best things about talking with your grown children is finding outt what they were thinking back when they, and we, were both younger.

This photo is of My daughter, Sarah, at Edgar Allan Poe's grave in Baltimore, around 1997. We used to stop there on the way to Ft McHenry, where we spent alot of time, flying kites, or just horsing around.  This is her view of those visits to Poe's grave. It was written 10 years ago.

"Me at the burial site of Edgar Allan Poe, Westminster Hall, in Baltimore, MD. My dad used to take me there on weekend afternoons. This was my favorite of all the old graveyards we visited. I would run around and look at the cool and interesting graves with him.

I especially enjoyed looking for cracks and holes that... would allow me to peak into the old mausoleums. Before leaving, we would always stop at Poe's grave and say farewell.

I didn't understand the significance of that place until I was much older and had read many of Poe's works. I had always thought that he was just some dude my dad used to be friends with!"

End Peace - 1982

How can you just abandon

Such strong feelings?

Am I that weak?

Or are you too strong?

I look at what we had and wonder-

Will I ever feel that much again?

Are there really other eyes out there-

That sparkle like yours-

Or shine like mine?

I really don’t think so.

Turn it over and look

at the other side.

It was worth the changes,

the joy or pain.

I can never forget the way my heart 

pounded at our first kiss,

And how time stopped 

when I first entered you.

But now we are closed to one another,

And time goes on?

For Leslie Billmire Huettner

1949 - 1989

It's Only Me- Chapter 21- Baltimore

My earliest memories of Baltimore are from when I was 10 years old. We were passing through on our way to Washington ,D.C. in January 1964. It was a dirty, smoky, blue collar town. Bethlehem Steel was the big employer and Japan had not yet entered the market. It was a decidedly Southern town, the waitresses all called you “hon” and “sweetie.” I had no idea that I would one day live there.

Arriving, as stated, on January 11, 1982 I went to check in with Captain Ellison, who had founded and ran the Baltimore School of Navigation. Hugh T. Ellison was born in Missouri and after serving in World War Two he became a Merchant Marine Officer and eventually Master (Captain) of his own ship. After that he married and started a school for sailors who wanted to become Officers. Not gentlemen, just Officers.

In his time in Baltimore Captain Ellison turned out thousands of Merchant Marine Officers. I vowed I would be one. He was the archetypical, pipe smoking Captain of days gone by. Wise and sensitive, at the age of 67 he still commanded respect and would “brook no nonsense.” His words, not mine.

I was directed to several hotels and rooming houses where I could set up new housekeeping. I chose a furnished room in a rooming house about 12 blocks from the Harborplace and the school. This was in the Mt. Vernon area of Baltimore and around the corner from the original Washington Monument pictured above.

I had always wondered what it would be like to live in a furnished room. I was going to find out. My place was in an old brownstone that had once belonged to a single family. It was built in 1840. It was subdivided into rooms with a toilet and bath at the end of each floor. I was one of 4 tenants. There was a single bed, a hanging light bulb, a chair and a desk with a lamp. Food was not allowed and so I kept milk and stuff out on the window ledge.

The rooming house was on Cathedral Street one block North of the Enoch Pratt Free Library. This meant that there was a lot of foot traffic. During the cold winter evenings, and sometimes even late at night, students and just plain passers by would throw snowballs and ice up at my window trying to knock the milk off the sill. Sometimes I would throw snow back and once even tossed the milk at a particularly rude group. I am proud to state that I never shot at any of them. To me this was all new and I was loving it.

About this time I received a note from MSC asking me what the "Special" designation was on my Coast Guard ID card. I answered that it simply meant that I was special, I knew it because my Mom had told me so. I also pointed out that they had paid me a goodly sum in 1981 for being "special." That was the first and last I heard of the matter.

I had about $20,000 in the bank and expected to take the entire year off in order to obtain my Third Mates License. The exam is 5 days long and 8 hours per day. Then there is the week that it takes to Certify on Radar and Flashing Light/Morse Code. The fact that I already had these skills would not necessarily help me on the test, which is the Bar Exam of the Ocean. So I figured brushing up prior to the test was wise. I hadn’t counted on so many distractions!

First let me tell you that Baltimore at that time was undergoing a fantastic transformation from a blue collar town to a cosmopolitan city. They had just completed the new Harborplace, which was a big draw for the tourist crowd in Washington, D.C. They were also installing a subway and an Aquarium. The City was run by Mayor Donald Schaefer, who was so loved that he went on to become Governor. In short, I had arrived in a boom town. It was also a period of my life that was the most self assured I had ever experienced.

First order of business was to set up housekeeping in my furnished room. I don’t know about others, but at that time I loved nothing more than getting "settled in." I went shopping at the local five and dime for all the stuff you need like a broom, dustpan, mop and bath things. Since the bath down the hall only had a tub I bought a plastic hose and shower head that could be attached to the faucet. With a wire hangar attached to the ceiling I had a shower. I also bought a small black and white TV. This was before VCR and cable etc. So when you were at sea TV was something you missed. With my short wave radio and small stereo I was all set.

Food was not much of a problem. I merely set out looking for affordable places to eat my meals. Places that I could go to on a regular basis and be “known.” I found two good ones right away. The Lighthouse at the bottom end of Cathedral Street served great steaks and salads. For a cheaper and more plain meal there was the Maryland Diner located on Monument Street. They had great liver and onions.

The Sportsmen Club on Park Ave had a great evening crowd that watched TV together. They also had a resident hooker named Marlene. I never sampled her wares- I had a rule- if I was in the States there was no reason for me to pay. I spoke the language and there were plenty of women to meet. But I found Marlene to be a funny and interesting companion so we ended up hanging out together at the Sportsmen Club and sometimes in her room at the Congress Hotel.

This was, as I have said, a time of great self confidence for me and I exuded it. I could feel it in the way I walked and dealt with people. And they could sense it, too.

One of the main differences I found in Baltimore as compared to New York was in flirting. In New York flirting was just that, and meant nothing. In Baltimore flirting was the prelude to something more. If someone caught your eye, or vice versa, it meant there was genuine interest. This was wonderful, but it did interfere with my studies!

I had never been the type to juggle girlfriends and “play the field.” But in Baltimore I found myself surrounded by women, of all ages and backgrounds, who were more than willing to spend time with me. This was actually a great surprise and I loved it!

About 6 weeks after arriving I went into Club Charles on Charles Street across from the Charles Theater. The theater showed all old and art films, which I loved. I went with a friend from school to see “The Four Feathers”, the original 1939 version with C. Aubrey Smith.

After the movie we went across to the bar. As soon as we walked in I saw two vacant stools at the bar. There were two ladies in the stools next to them. Reid went to the bathroom while I sat down. I looked over at the woman next to me and said hello. She said hello back and we were off to the races. Her name was Leslie and we talked non stop for the rest of the night. She was a dead ringer for Jessica Lange and I was falling fast. As bar time came she made it apparent that she would like to see me again. I got her number and walked home in a light snow, singing.

I called her the next day and the next. I went to see her that Tuesday evening and we talked for hours while I worked up the courage to kiss her. When I finally did I said, “Man, I’m glad that’s over!” We both laughed because she was as nervous as I was! She was 32 and I was 27. She was divorced and had a son who lived with her mom. As the weekend approached I had misgivings about going to New York for a planned visit with Mark and Lois but she had plans for a “retreat” so we went our separate ways.

When I got back I found that we had missed one another in equal proportions and a whirlwind relationship sprang up. We saw one another each evening, with me frequently staying over. I even got to meet her son, Noah, who was 11 at the time.

Needing a nicer place to entertain her when we were downtown I decided to get an apartment. I chose one on Park Avenue at Madison Street, just around the corner from the rooming house. It was still winter so I had no idea what the neighborhood was really like. But the apartment was a furnished 2 room deal with an eat-in kitchen and a living room which doubled as a bedroom. It also had a shower with a skylight! I hung plants in the shower making it like a tropical waterfall. A very romantic place.

But the beauty of our relationship was marred by the demons of Leslies’ past. She was undergoing psycho therapy at the time and her Doctor was dead set against her entering a serious relationship. We had planned to move in together- the long absences necessitated by my 6 month contracts were a huge obstacle- so I went down to the Union Hall looking for a 30 day coastal run instead. Things seemed to be falling in place.

On the day I was scheduled to move in she couldn’t do it. It was too much of a risk for her. And so without explanation she told me that she could never see me again. And she didn’t. If she answered the phone she would hang it up or just leave it off the hook. Cards and letters went unanswered. So I left her alone, all the while wondering, should I pursue her with more vigor? I had no answers.

This is last thing I ever wrote to her-

End piece.

How can you just abandon
Such strong feelings?
Am I that weak?
Or are you too strong?

I look at what we had and wonder-
Will I ever feel that much again?
Are there really other eyes out there-
That sparkle like yours-
Or shine like mine?
I really don’t think so.

Turn it over and look
at the other side.
It was worth the changes,
the joy or pain.

I can never forget the way my heart
pounded at our first kiss,
And how time stopped
when I first entered you.
But now we are closed to one another,
And time goes on?

I saw her face in every crowd and the ringing of the phone would send me lunging across the room in the hope that it was her. It never happened. A few years after I married in 1986 I learned that she had killed herself. Too fragile for this world I hope she found peace in the next….

The neighborhood I was living in began to come to life in the spring. As the cold ended the streets began to fill with people in the evenings. It was a colorful crowd. It was also decidedly gay! I had moved in during the dead of winter and so could not really judge the area. But it was a fun and exciting place to be. The gays were creative and had parties all the time. And the amount of available women was a big plus.

Across the street from my apartment on Park Avenue was a halfway house for teenage girls who had run away from home or were just not wanted by their parents. There was one young girl there- Debbie Hoerl- who used to stop me and talk. We were like brother and kid sister. So we hung out together and I learned her story- a mother who remarried and found the daughter “inconvenient”, a step dad who was less than wholesome and all the rest of the story. They only lived 8 miles from the halfway house but never came to see her.

The halfway house had a curfew of 11PM and then they would lock the girls out. Brillant move. The area was filled with gays and lesbians and single guys, who unlike me, would be only too glad to take advantage of this situation. To complicate matters even more, Debbie had started deliberately missing curfew in order to get locked out. I would see her at like 1 in the morning when I came home, sitting on my stoop. I would let her stay over at my place, which was probably not adviseable, but leaving her in the street was out of the question. I had been there and done that, so I couldn’t let it go.

One night when she was staying over things were starting to get out of hand in a delicate way. The next morning I was over at the halfway house raising hell with the managers. They were a group of women who had never spent a night in the street and believed in “tough love.” I told them that I was in jeopardy every time they locked someone out and I took them in. I even threatened to go to the news and have their funding cut. Surely there was a better way to punish someone for missing curfew than leaving them out in the street all night! The policy was changed. Debbie and I remained friends for several years and she eventually moved to Florida. Last I heard she was married with 2 kids and a farm full of animals. She was a sweet kid and I kind of wish she had been my sister. We really had fun together and I will always remember her fondly.

One floor below me was a violin player from the Boston Symphony who was studying at the Peabody Conservatory, which was also around the corner from me. He loathed the term fiddle as it pertained to country music. He also disliked me. The reason was simple. He was in love with Heidi Kohlberg, who lived next door to him. She was an intern at Johns Hopkins doing her surgical residency. We had not met until the weather got warm and I saw her sitting and reading on the front stoop.

I was on my way to the movies one Sunday evening to see “North by Northwest” at the Charles. I asked her if she would like to go. She said no, but when the movie was over I should ring her bell and we could continue our talk.

When the movie ended I fixed a plate of vegetables and grabbed a bottle of wine. Thus prepared I rang her bell. It was about 10 PM. She was in a robe and I asked if I had come too late. She replied that my timing was perfect- she had just stepped out of the shower.

We munched on the vegetables and drank some wine- with me wondering all the while whether I was expected to make a move or not. This went on until 1 AM when she announced that it was time to call it a night. We got to the door and we just couldn’t seem to end it. That’s when I got up the courage to kiss her. I was delighted when she didn’t pull away...

Later in the year she moved to Richmond where she worked at the Eastern Virginia Medical Center. I would arrive at the Greyhound station and find her sleeping in the waiting room, dressed in her surgical scrubs. We saw each other for about a year and then fell out over spiritual differences. She believed that we were all random chemical events and that there was no God. So I just took my chemical self and oozed on down the road...

So in September 1982 I was once again heart broke, almost out of money and ready to head back out to sea. I had taken some of my exams but due to my busy social life I was not ready to complete my qualifications. But that year in Baltimore, for all it’s hurt, will live on in my mind as the most vibrant and joyful year of my life thus far.

I had also found my new home and in short order I would return.

It's Only Me -Chapter 24- Meeting Sue

I arrived back in New York and stayed briefly with Mark and Lois. I wanted to get back to school quickly and obtain my Third mates License. By October 8th, 1983 I was back in Baltimore, this time renting a one room “flat” on the corner of Eager and Calvert Street. This was still on the edge of the gay neighborhood and just 3 blocks North of Peabody Institute and the Washington Monument. With a kitchen alcove area and a main room for sitting and sleeping it was all I needed. It was also just a half story above street level.

I set about, as usual, in making friends with my neighbors. These included two girls who were studying Chamber Music at Peabody. Their names were Mary and Mary. So I called them M and M. On Sunday mornings around 11 AM they would come down to my place for brunch. I would make stuffed mushroom caps with crab meat and pour the wine while they played Cello and Violin for me. Not too bad a trade when you think about it.

I had been seeing a girl named Mari before I left and had bought her back a beautiful enameled 20 karat gold ring from Turkey. But things were kind of “not there” between us and so I found myself looking at a lonely birthday in Baltimore. And to make matters worse I was without weed and had stopped drinking. This was going to be a lot of fun….

Walking around and hoping to meet someone to celebrate with I started drifting toward the “bad” side of Eutaw Street and into the area where pot was sold openly. I asked around a bit but nobody wanted anything to do with me. I was in good shape, well fed and they decided I was a cop! So I finally went into my birthday spiel-“Hey it’s my birthday and I just got into town, don’t know anyone etc.” No one believed me and I finally had to show someone my ID with my birthday on it in order to get some grass!

School was good and I was making a lot of progress. I had to get my CPR certification and some other Red Cross stuff so I signed up for the classes at the local Red Cross. I forget what the exercise was but you had to pull someone around on a blanket. My partner was some Jewish girl who was about my age and had a ticking biological clock. You could actually hear her planning the wedding and everything. But that didn’t prevent me from asking her out and we saw each other a few times but “no spark” for me.

It was getting near to Halloween, which was at that time one of my favorite holidays. The parties and costumes all added up to some fun and I was looking forward to it. The Thursday night before Halloween a short chain of events began that would have a serious impact on my life.

I was walking by the old Greyhound Station on Howard and Monument Street when I noticed a woman being hounded by an older black guy. He was obviously following her and she was obviously uncomfortable with it. He was talking to her in a lecherous way and you could see her fear.

Crossing the street I walked up behind them both from an angle and slipping my arm into hers I smiled and said to her, “Sorry I’m late.” Fixing him with a glare I said, “Thanks for watching out for my girl, bro.” And then I walked her around the corner and out of sight.

Dropping her arm I apologized and she assured me there was no need to, as she needed the rescue. Her name was Mary and as we walked along a bit I let her know we should split up now as I could be part of a scam. She seemed pretty unconcerned but agreed. She also suggested that I meet her on Saturday night at an activist Church nearby that was hosting a Halloween Party. I agreed and we parted.

I decided to go to the party at the Church because I was kind of sick of the bar scene at the time. And the fact that Mary would be waiting for me was a definite enticement. The big question was what to go as. I finally decided to go as a Tom cat- you know- looking for a kitty. So I took a wire hangar and stretched it out to an acceptable length- then I added a grey scarf which I wound around the hangar/tail and topped that off with some swirls of masking tape. Attatching the wire hangar to my rear belt loop and adding some whiskers to my face with a blackened cork, I was off to the races.

The Church was one of those “activists” ones. By that I mean they were really not that religious- they were kind of a gathering spot for political activists touting such causes as El Salvador, Legal Defense Funds, Battered Women, and After School Care etc.

Mary was there waiting with some friends and the party was already started. There was a band playing and they had some really tacky disco lights going. The biggest surprise of the evening was when Mary and I were dancing and she started doing cartwheels and all sorts of splits to the music. Turned out she was a gymnast and I started thinking of all the fun we might be having later on utilizing her skills…

Her friends were a group of 6 really nice looking women- some doing post graduate work, some still working towards degrees and a couple of guys who were reading Law in prep for the Bar. A very interesting crowd…

Some slow dancing began and Mary and I enjoyed the closeness and we shared a first kiss. The night was progressing nicely when at about midnight Mary got ready to go. I was confused by this. She was leaving alone and passing me on to her friends. We agreed to call one another etc.

Around 1 AM the friends, none of whose names I recall, invited me to accompany them by van to another party at the Activists Lawyers League. This party was being held at the old Enoch Pratt Free Library on the corner of Kirk and Gorsuch Streets in East Baltimore. There were lawyers and aspiring lawyers everywhere. There was lots of liquor and music, too.

I set about dancing with the ladies who had brought me there. Then I started dancing with women who asked me. I was having a great time when I spotted a woman who was standing off by herself and looking like she was not having the best of times. So I approached her and asked for a dance. She turned me down, flat and cold. “No, thanks.” The Iron Curtain. So I went back to dancing with this one and that one. But it really bugged me that this one woman wouldn’t dance with me. So I asked again-same results. “No, thanks.”

After about the third time I’m thinking, “What’s her problem- it’s just a dance, not a commitment!” So I asked her again in a different way. “I’ve danced with every woman here tonight and you’re the only one that said no. Dance with me and I’ll leave you alone forever.” Reluctantly she began to dance- with me talking as we did. I was telling her that I had just got back from Turkey and Lebanon and when the music stopped we kept talking. Her name was Karen. As we were talking she told me, “I have 2 kids so if that’s a problem let me know.”

After a bit some friends of hers were going outside to smoke a joint and I readily agreed. We went and huddled at the bottom of the basement steps and smoked a few before heading back in. Karen had gone to the party at the urging of some neighbors and friends.

A little while later I felt a finger trace up my back and turning around I was looking at Karen who said, “My name’s in the book.” She gave me her address and left. It was about 3 AM. I left shortly afterward and passing a phone booth I looked her up. The address was incorrect and the name didn’t quite match. It said K. Sue Hart. Still I walked home in the frigid early morning air, warmed by the evening and the dancing.

The next day I called the number in the book, which was now changed, so I called the new number. Turned out to be the right one- her name was Karen Sue. She went by the name of Sue and used the name Karen as a way of confusing the jerks and would be stalkers. We talked for hours and then agreed to meet for Chinese food on Tuesday night. She would get a sitter. After explaining that I had no car she offered to pick me up at my apartment.

Tuesday arrived and the day seemed interminably long as I waited for the evening to arrive. I was waiting at my window when her car turned the corner of Calvert and Eager Street. She parked and rang my bell.

I opened the door and there she was- blond hair with green eyes. Looking shyly down she handed me a bunch of flowers! We left for dinner almost immediately and walked to Tony Cheng’s which was only 3 blocks away.

We had Peking duck and talked about ourselves. She was divorced with 2 boys, 8 and 6 years old. Their names were Keith and Shane. She was originally from Chambersburg, Pennsylvania and had left because of the small town atmosphere. They actually listed the divorces in the local newspaper. This kind of stigmatized the ladies in certain ways. Also the job market would be easier to crack in Baltimore so she moved down 2 years earlier and took a job at Social Security Headquarters. She had put a down payment on a small house nearby and began her life anew.

We went back to my place after dinner and talked a bit more. There really was no place to sit other than on the edge of my bed or at the tiny kitchen table. We chose the edge of the bed. It wasn’t long before I kissed her. We lay back on the bed and kissed again. Things were going well when she suddenly sat bolt upright and told me she had to go- the sitter was only staying until 10 PM and it was 9:30 now.

We made arrangements to meet on Saturday morning at her place to drive the kids to their Dad’s for the weekend. We spoke on the phone every day that week while waiting for Saturday to arrive. When it did I took a cab to her house and met the kids for the first time.

They were typical kids, running and shouting. They seemed uninterested in me, like I was just one of many passing through. We drove up to Chambersburg, dropped them off and then Sue showed me around her home town and introduced me to some friends. I got the feeling she was showing me off!

We were driving a borrowed car which belonged to a “friend” named Ben. He also worked at Social Security and I remember feeling uneasy about this “friend” and asked her straight out what this friendship incurred. If there was anything other than "friendship" going on then I needed to know. It was, in my opinion, only fair that we be honest with one another.

We arrived back in Baltimore that evening and I made my famous NY Strip Steak covered with Back Fin Lump Crabmeat and then topped with Muenster cheese. Dinner was about ready when Sue suggested we have dessert first…

It's Only Me- Chapter 27- Kids and Jobs and Donuts

Sept 1985 found me back in Baltimore with an instant family. Sue had, as I have mentioned, 2 sons. Keith was 10 and Shane was going to be 8. They were typical kids, a bit starved for attention, but overall just average, hell raising, boys.

I really didn't have any problems with them. The hardest part was that they were very competitive for my attention and at first I was overwhelmed. I had just come from a lifestyle in which I was responsible solely for myself. Suddenly,I had to worry about homework, baths, getting breakfast etc.

Playing with them was also hard, I had been in the company of grown men for the last 10 years. Children were something I heard about but seldom had any interaction with. How do you handle it when you play ball with 2 boys and one of them has to win and one of them is going to cry? I had no clues....

So I forged ahead, doing the best I could. I only hope that in their memories I was not an ogre, but perhaps a stabilizing influence as well as a pain in the ass! There were fun times too, especially when I would take them somewhere one on one. We were getting to know one another and I was becoming less afraid of the responsibility.

At the same time that I was trying to adjust to this "instant father" stuff I was also trying to find some meaningful employment. My only forte at the time was mathematics and Navigation. I had no idea what to do, so I answered all ads.

To begin with I had no idea what "minimum wage" was. It had been awhile since I made $2.50 an hour in the paint factory. It was now 11 years later and the minimum wage was now only $3.35 per hour! So I started at a Royal Farms Convenience Store as a clerk, working nights and waiting for a better job to rear it's head. It took 5 days.

The donut delivery guy came every evening at 7PM and the donuts were fresh. They were made at Donut Delite on the site of the present day Camden Yard Stadium in Baltimore. We were horizontal to Babe Ruth's birthplace. Nearby was where the circus train unloaded the elephants each year and I would re-arrange my whole day to go and see them walk to the Arena.

Anyway, back to the donut guy. He was paying $5 an hour for a 6 hour day which beat what I was making in 8 hours. So I got hired on and assigned to a route that took me through 3 counties. It was at this job that I learned all the back roads of the adjacent counties. I had alot of freedom and all the donuts I could eat. It was 7 days a week with no holidays off.

Donnie Laws was the boss. He owned several routes and had vans for each one. They were specially fitted with racks for the donut trays to slide in and out easily. My job was to deliver the fresh donuts and remove the "day olds." Everything was done by Invoice, so we carried no cash.

Each day at 2 PM I would load up at Donut Delite and head out for my deliveries. Donnie was the type of guy who would think nothing of sending you out in a truck with no gas and a broken gas gauge. This was a constant source of irritation. That and the fact that he constantly referred to me as "that New York Jewboy" behind my back.

At the end of each day I would return the "day old" donuts to a trash bin located outside Donut Delite and across Martin Luther King Blvd. from the "projects." The kids who lived there had drug addicted parents and didn't get much in the way of treats. So each evening when I returned there was a crowd of kids waiting to ask for some of the "day olds." I would always give some away and throw the damaged ones in the trash bin. This bin would get picked up every two days and transported to the rail yard where it was shipped out to somewhere as "hog feed." When Donnie would catch me giving donuts away he would climb up on the dumpster and piss all over everything so that the kids would not get any treats. This was yet another sore point between us.

I was paid each Friday with a personal check- I was collecting Unemployment out of New York at the time. One Friday I was forwarned by another driver that Donnie was going to lay me off the following week on Wednesday. His brother in law needed the job. Then he was going to stiff me for the 3 days pay, knowing that I couldn't file a complaint due to the Unemployment issue. He was right about that, but there are other ways to skin a cat.

Taking his check over to his bank I cashed it. Getting back in the van I thought to myself, "How can I hurt this guy?" Inspiration came in a flash as I realized that I had about $1,500 worth of fresh donuts. And I was now also one day AHEAD in pay. Driving around in the city a bit I noticed that there were a lot of people sitting out on porches after the long winter had finally broken. It was now late April.

I pulled the truck up on a street that ran adjacent to North Avenue, in one of the poorer areas of the city. Stepping out into the early spring sun I shouted out, "Donuts, free donuts, fresh and warm!"

It was like a scene out of one of those jungle movies where the natives swamp the plane with arms outstretched for food. The trays were flying out faster than I could count and people were shoving bills in my hand, although I had not asked for any money!

Within minutes the van was stripped bare of donuts and I had to jump back in and race off. The rear doors were swinging wildly to shouts of, "Jack it up- get the wheels!"

I now had about $60 and 2 trays of donuts that I had stashed up front. I took these to Keiths Cub Scout Troop which was meeting nearby at the Harborplace that day. I was a hero to the kids as I handed out the donuts. I then parked the truck outside Donnies as usual, placing the keys in his mailbox and got in my car and drove home.

The next morning the phone rang and it was Donnie. He wanted to know where the donuts were. I feigned ignorance and then he let fly with what a donut stealing Jewboy I was and how he was gonna get me. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about and not to call me anymore. I hung up, thinking that was the end of it. Sometimes you can be so wrong...

2 weeks later, on Mothers day, I was out front washing the car when a police car passed up and then down the street in front of our house. This was very unusual and should have clued me in, but it didn't.

Stepping out of the patrol car I was approached by an officer who asked me if I was "Bob" Williams. This should also have clued me in as everyone ashore called me Robert. But I answered yes and then was asked to step away from my vehicle. This guy was going to cuff me for something but I had no idea what! He explained that Donnie had filed a complaint and though the warrant was not in the officers possession he had the right to detain me while the warrant was delivered. I was able to talk him out of doing the handcuffs in front of the neighbors and kids and then got in the back of the car and was taken away. Around the corner he stopped and handcuffed me.

We arrived at the local county station house to await the warrant. I was placed in a common holding area which had 6 bunks and 7 inmates- my addition bought the total to 8. There was a phone, which I was not allowed to use, on the wall just outside of the cell. It was very strange being locked up but I knew that things would work out. It was really a question of how long I was going to be here. To make it worse, I was scheduled to start working on a horse farm in Elkridge the next morning at 8 AM. So I was a little worried about making it there on time. It was now 7 PM on Sunday.

I was the only white prisoner and thinking of the movie "Hard Times" with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. Particularly the "I'm bad" scene. Just then the biggest black guy in there comes up to me and asks, "What'd you do?" I replied that I had stolen some donuts. This produced some laughter and a scornful "We got us a creampuff motherfucker!" There were now some suggestions being tossed about concerning what could be done with a creampuff when the oldest guy in there, who had been snoozing on heroin, came to life. He explained that "The white boy ain't no fool- them donuts be worth duckies!" Then he went back to sleeep.

The dynamics immediatley changed with everyone wanting to know how the donut thing worked and could they get in on it? I explained that Donnie went to the Royal Farms store on Security Blvd and Forest Park Drive every night at 7 PM. I also added that he carried alot of cash. You can imagine my joy when 3 weeks later Donnie was beaten and robbed at that location by a "big black guy."

Now that we were all friends they showed me how to use the phone. I had been calling out "Guard, Guard" and alternating that with "Officer, Officer" to no avail. The big black guy started to laugh and said, "Man, you new to this- you gotta do this to get the phone." He took his shoe of and started beating it against the wall while shouting "MOTHERFUCKER!!!" loudly over and over. This bought several guards. My new friend told the guard that "Whitebread needs to use the phone." The receiver was passed through the bars to me and the guard dialed O for Operator, instructing me to leave the receiver dangling when I was through. Prison Etiquette 101.

I called Sue, who was very upset, and explained that I would undoubtedly be late that night so don't wait up. I would call her when I knew something.

Shortly after this call the Warrant arrived and I was transported, again in handcuffs, to a Paddy Wagon and driven down to Baltimore City and the Southwest Precint. This was a very old jail on Ostend Street which has since been razed. I was placed in a private cell next door to the only other prisoner that day- a drunk who had been urinating in public- at Harborplace on Mothers Day- in full view of everyone there. He had been arrested by a female officer and was highly intoxicated and pissed off. So it was going to be a lonely night.

Around 1 AM on Monday morning I heard the cell block gate open and someone was at the cell next to mine asking the drunk some questions. He began by introducing himself as the "Pretrial Release Officer." I could tell by his voice that he was black and educated. He began asking the other prisoner questions, like his name and contact info. For every question asked he received a scathing racist reply. For instance, to the question "What is your address?" he replied, "I ain't telling nothing to no nigger so he can go to my house and rob it." The Pretrail Release Officer went from question to question without pause and never reacted to the abuse being heaped upon him.

When he came to my cell I was on my feet at attention and answered everything with a "Yes,sir." This really surprised him and he started to leaf through my charging documents. He looked at me and asked for some contact info. I gave him Sue's number and address and told him he could also call Military Sealift Command in Bayonne, New Jersey to verify my identity. Although I was no longer an employee my security clearance was valid for 2 more years and I figured it couldn't hurt. He was impressed with my bearing as well as my response. He told me that the warrant should never have been issued as it didn't satisfy the who, what, when, where and why required by the law. He could not dismiss the Warrant but could get me out without bail if my responses were all correct and could be verified at this hour. He left promising to return shortly.

About an hour later he came back with a guard and my cell was unlocked. I was taken to the Magistrates Office where I was told that I had been unjustly confined but that I still needed to go to trial. Advising me to seek counsel I was then released at 3 AM.

I got a cab home and woke Sue up so we could pay the driver. I got a few hours sleep before getting up and beginning my new job at Mr. Perry's horse farm. I would be making $7 an hour.

Mr. Perry was 83 years old and married to a woman 15 years his juinor. They had met one day in 1934 when Mr. Perry saw her crying at a bus stop. He approached her and told her that there was nothing in this world that couldn't be fixed. She explained that she was pregnant and unmarried. He married her and raised the kid!

A little background on Mr. Perry is in order here. He arrived in Baltimore in 1917 at the age of 15 years old. He got a job as a Conductor on the trolley and then started the Baltimore branch of the Transit Workers Union. He became President of the Union during the 1930's and never looked back. He was an evangelical Christain with great respect for the Jews. We spent many hours talking politics and religion while I worked hoeing his 1/4 acre vegetable garden with a short handled hoe while he sat in the shade wearing a Panama hat. I also took care of feeding and watering the horses that were stabled on his property.

Mr. Perry had bought the farm in 1964 as a buffer against Route 95 on his West side and the Airport on his Southern side and Baltimore City 4 miles to the North. He was way ahead of his time concerning ecology. He was also a pain in the ass. He would start yelling at me just like my Dad had- telling me, "Use the other hand!" At times like these I would stand close to him and let my foot fall softly on the tube for his oxygen tank. He would get shortwinded and quiet down, or else panic and send me for a spare tank. Either way- things got quieter.

It was an idyllic job and Mr. Perry was one of those people you meet that you love and hate at the same time. He gave me a $1 raise within 2 weeks, remarking that for a city boy I was the best worker he ever met. His only complaint was that I "didn't know a weed from a rosebush." I still have trouble with that.

The donut trial came up 30 days after my release and so I took the day off from Mr. Perry's to face the music in court. I was charged with Grand Larceny so this was serious. I had gotten a Public Defender but we had totally opposite opinions on how to deal with the charges. He wanted a jury trial- I wanted the Judge to decide right then and there on my guilt or innocence. In my opinion it would've have been disastrous for a Jury to have enough time to ponder any future evidence against me, while the Judge would be under pressure to arrive at a decision with the little evidence currently at hand.

The trial began and the Judge was a mean woman who apparently knew Donnie, so she was ready to throw the book at me. Donnie had not expected that I would forgo the Jury Trial so all he had was the Warrant which did not satisfy all the criteria necessary to have been issued in the first place.

We arrived at a point where the Judge said that "you would admit that you have stolen a days pay from Mr. Laws?" I replied that I had and reaching for my wallet offered to pay him the $30 in question. The Judge then screamed at me- "What did you do with the donuts?" My lawyer said not to answer but I did- I said, "I don't know what happened to them. You have to tell me." She yelled some more about the lack of definitive evidence and found me Not Guilty "against her better judgement." And so I was free.

Sue and I were now 3 weeks away from our wedding date of July 4th,1986. We had also just found out that we were expecting a baby!

Fourth of July - The Flag Story

This is my daughter Sarah and I relaxing near Fell’s Point and the Harborplace in Baltimore on July 4^th, 1995; give or take a year or so.  The 4^th is my wedding anniversary; Sue and I decided to take our vows on a holiday so that the whole world would celebrate with us each year. This particular year has a story which goes with it. It’s an unusual story in that it shows me in two lights. One is good and the other not so much. But it is a true story so I’ll tell it anyway.

At the time we lived behind an American Legion Post; Post 200 to be exact; which was located in Hampstead, Md. They had Saturday night bands with lots of drinking which spilled over into my yard and also involved people screwing in the patch of pine trees along my Property line. With 3 kids at home I had enough to do without picking up the empty beer cans and used condoms they left behind.

Things between us eventually came to a head over the music; which ran past the 2 AM curfew imposed by the local zoning laws; every Saturday night. With many of the Legionnaires being members of the local town Police, State Troopers; and even County Commissioners; it was hard to get the noise ordinance enforced. We went to every County Council Meeting and lost every battle. But, just as with the Continental Army in our own Revolution, we eventually won the war.

At one point the attorney for the Legion actually showed up on a Saturday night with the object of baiting me into an argument with the members who had assembled along my property line drinking.

Armed with a stick up my sleeve; and a pistol in my pocket; I went forth to challenge the interlopers. Sue called the cops; which is something I was not comfortable with but did come in handy, as the attorney was trying to maneuver me into crossing the line onto the Legion’s property. I assume I was to be beaten if I did.

I’m not much of a dancer, but I do know how to maneuver as well as the next guy when it comes to playing chess on a property line with a bunch of drunks.Carefully moving in an arc; so that the attorney would not notice through the haze of the alcohol; I slowly swung him around until he was finally on; and then over; the property line. And once he was I quickly slid the stick down into my hand and yelled, “Now you’re on my property motherfucker!”

The group surged forward and got a nice surprise when the stick in my hand started swinging in an arc as I let out the extension cord to which it was tied, creating a buffer zone which would have to be crossed in order for anyone to get to me. Meantime I had the attorney on my property and was not going to let him leave.

Now nobody wants to be the first to get hit; so I kept the situation static for a few moments as the drunks tried to figure out just what the hell had happened. At the same time the local town Police Chief showed up and charged into the darkness of my yard yelling my name, “Mr. Williams, Mr. Williams, step back so I can see you!” He was trying to distinguish me from the group of would be assailants. He quickly herded everyone back into the Legion; though he wrote no summonses for the open alcohol and refused to arrest the attorney for trespassing.

But there is more way in which to skin a cat and I eventually won the war by finding out about some financial improprieties which would have forced the Legion to close; as well as place them in the hands of the IRS. Through my own sources at their bank I learned of the existence of a private account which was comprised of some skimmed profits from the sale of beer at the Legion post.

This violated their nonprofit status and could have even resulted in jail time for someone. They were planning on building a private catering facility with the money on the land adjacent to the post. This would have been hell for the people who lived on our street. But my knowledge of this information put an immediate stop to all of the problems which we had been having for the past 5 or 6 years. And to this day there is no catering facility located there.

Okay, that’s me in the good light. Here’s the darker side of the story and its connection to the 4^th of July and hence my wedding anniversary.

At the time of these events Sue and I would celebrate our anniversary by going to see the fireworks at the Harborplace, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post. The night before the 4^th the Legion had decorated their entire property; which was several acres; with a border of small American flags. They had ruined so many holidays for me that I was just seething with a desire for revenge.

Now, before I go on, you must realize that this particular Legion post had about 300 members, of which maybe 3 were veterans. The other 297 were their friends and came there to drink cheaply. All of the flags in the world really meant nothing to these guys; it was all about the beer. This is not an excuse for what I did; so let's just say that there were mitigating factors involved.

Early on the morning of the 4^th; after the Legion had closed for the night; I quietly went around the perimeter of the entire property and removed all the flags. I hid them in the trees where the Legion members used to like to have sex with other member’s wives and then went to bed. 

The next day brought a couple of phone calls and one visitor to my door asking about the flags. I just told them to get off my property and not to call me. Technically speaking the flags were still on the Legion's property, not mine. and there they remained all day long while they had their picnic, so I had no worries on that score. I was saving them for the evening, because by now I had a plan.

That evening, while waiting for the fireworks to start, Sarah and I walked through the crowds at Fell’s Point selling American flags. I charged a buck a piece or 3 for $2. Hell, I was working with little overhead and could even afford to give a few away. 

The funniest part was the guy who insisted that I was trying to cheat him with the 3 for $2 deal and insisted on paying me a dollar each for 4 flags. He was very proud of himself at having not been cheated. Sarah was only about 8 years old at the time and even she knew better. Hey, I might have stolen the flags, but I would never cheat anybody!

So that is the story of how; just as in our own American Revolution; I lost all the major battles but won the war. And I even managed to collect a few bucks for damages in the process. As I said earlier, this story shows me in 2 different lights. And to be honest with you, I like both of me.

I sent Sarah some flags for the 4th this year, just in case she needs a couple of bucks.

And Happy Anniversary Sue; you certainly have to admit it’s been interesting…..

Mr. and Mrs. Watts - A Love Story

When Sue and I were first married we lived in Baltimore, Maryland just across the street on Clifton Avenue, from an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Watts. I don’t ever recall knowing their first names, as they each referred to one another as Mr. or Mrs. Watt in conversation. It was very quaint and unusual, just as they were.

This story concerns their courtship, and later on, marriage as it was relayed to me by them some 25 years ago. I believe I have the story remembered correctly.

The diminutive Mr. Watts, who was probably one of the shortest Marines ever admitted to the Corps, came home from the Second World War having survived the hand to hand combat that marked the Battle for Guadalcanal. He was a tough little guy, and still single at the age of 30. He took a job working for the railroad, first residing in Virginia, where his true love had originally been waiting out the war for him.

Mrs. Watts, I never did know her maiden name, was a nurse, and during the war had taken a job working up in Indianapolis. The photo above is of Union Station in Indianapolis, as it appeared in 1946. The two corresponded throughout the war and were anxious to see one another again. To that end, Mr. Watts secured a ticket for the trip to Union Station, where his love would be waiting. He had a mission on his mind, and love in his heart.

Mrs. Watts was busy on her end as well, making plans for the upcoming visit. She had been rooming at the YWCA, which of course did not permit men, so she sought out a hotel room. They had never “been together” before; those were her actual words to me; but somehow she felt that having a hotel room ready would not be a bad idea. To that end, she secured the Bridal Suite at the best hotel in town for the whopping price of $7 a night.

Mr. Watts arrived in Indianapolis by train, with the soon to be Mrs. Watts waiting for him at the station. They had dinner, a noontime meal, at the “best diner in town”, during which they began to discuss the events of the past few years and where they might be heading as a couple. That’s when he popped the question. I will let Mr. Watts take over from here and tell you about it. To do otherwise would only serve to diminish the story.

“I looked at Mrs. Watts and I said, ‘Look here Mrs. Watts’, only I didn’t call her Mrs. Watts yet, on account of we weren’t married. So I said, ‘Look here Mrs. Watts, you ain’t getting any younger and I ain’t getting any better lookin’, so what do you say we up and get hitched?’ Well sir, she about jumped right into my lap! And do you know she had a hotel room all set, kind of like she knew what I was going to ask before I even asked it.”

Well, Mr. and Mrs. Watts lived happily ever after, racking up at least 5 decades of marriage that I know of. I have always wondered if, when they said goodnight to one another, they called one other Mr. and Mrs. Watts. They moved away a few years after Sue and I married, and I am sure that they have both since passed on. No matter, wherever they are today, I know that they are still together. True love never dies.

Rooftop's Cover Story - The Other Washington Monument

This is the monument from which the masthead photo for Rooftop Reviews was taken. If you're reading this I assume that you have noticed that photo before. My only problem with it is the size. It's too big and I have thought of replacing it, but the photo has a special place in my heart. Let me tell you about it...

I was living in Baltimore in 1983 when I met my wife, Sue. I lived 2 blocks from the Washington Monument- no, not the one in Washington, D.C., but the first one, built with public lottery funds. Beginning in 1799, $100,000 was collected, and in 1815 work was begun. In 1829 the 178 foot tall Doric column with Washington standing atop, opened to the public. They thronged to ascend the 228 steps to the top of the city's highest vantage point of the time.

It is still one of the most beautiful of the many monuments in Baltimore. Sue and I used to walk and talk there in the evenings when we were first seeing one another. After a while I tricked her into marrying me and we moved out to the County to raise our family.

Fast forward to about 1994. The Monument had been closed for some years due to interior structural problems. A Citizens Committee had resolved these issues and the Monument (located on Monument and Charles Streets) was now open again. You could, for a $1 contribution, climb to the top. And so, we did. Sue took several photos looking in all directions. My favorite is this one- looking North up Charles St.

In the foreground and to the right is the Methodist Church made with green stone from local quarries. The Church sits across from the unseen Peabody Institute of Music and the Walthers Art Gallery. Looking further to the rear and in the center is the 13 story Belvedere Hotel which was also home to the Engineers Society of Maryland at the time. The whole monument sits in an oasis of a park that bisects Charles Street.

The best part of the memory associated with this photo is the actual climb up a circular stairway reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty. The brick and mortar interior was eerie and a little damp- ideal in the summertime, cool- like a cave. With several openings at different levels there were some beautiful vistas of the harbor and surrounding areas. But I always liked the view from the top best of all.

I think it's because we made the climb with me carrying our daughter most of the way. And when we were done we were so exhausted, coming out into the heat of a summer’s day. But it's something that we did together and really enjoyed. The original of this photo hangs in our bedroom. It serves as a reminder to us of all the climbs we have made together through the years.

"Meeting Sue" - Half a Life Ago

It was 30 years ago this evening that I first met my wife. That means we have been together for just over half our lives at this point. We were both 29 when we met. It was at a Saturday night Halloween party in Baltimore. I could recount it here; but instead I’ll just re-post the story of that night; and the week which followed. The rest, as they say, is history. The above photo was taken several months later in Virginia Beach. I am dressed as usual, while Sue is in costume.

I arrived back in New York and stayed briefly with Mark and Lois. I wanted to get back to school quickly and obtain my Third mates License. By October 8th, 1983 I was back in Baltimore, this time renting a one room “flat” on the corner of Eager and Calvert Street. This was still on the edge of the gay neighborhood and just 3 blocks North of Peabody Institute and the Washington Monument. With a kitchen alcove area and a main room for sitting and sleeping it was all I needed. It was also just a half story above street level.

I set about, as usual, in making friends with my neighbors. These included two girls who were studying Chamber Music at Peabody. Their names were Mary and Mary. So I called them M and M. On Sunday mornings around 11 AM they would come down to my place for brunch. I would make stuffed mushroom caps with crab meat and pour the wine while they played Cello and Violin for me. Not too bad a trade when you think about it.

I had been seeing a girl named Mari before I left and had bought her back a beautiful enameled 20 karat gold ring from Turkey. But things were kind of “not there” between us and so I found myself looking at a lonely birthday in Baltimore. And to make matters worse I was without weed and had stopped drinking. This was going to be a lot of fun….

Walking around and hoping to meet someone to celebrate with I started drifting toward the “bad” side of Eutaw Street and into the area where pot was sold openly. I asked around a bit but nobody wanted anything to do with me. I was in good shape, well fed and they decided I was a cop! So I finally went into my birthday spiel-“Hey it’s my birthday and I just got into town, don’t know anyone etc.” No one believed me and I finally had to show someone my ID with my birthday on it in order to get some grass!

School was good and I was making a lot of progress. I had to get my CPR certification and some other Red Cross stuff so I signed up for the classes at the local Red Cross. I forget what the exercise was but you had to pull someone around on a blanket. My partner was some Jewish girl who was about my age and had a ticking biological clock. You could actually hear her planning the wedding and everything. But that didn't prevent me from asking her out and we saw each other a few times but “no spark” for me.

It was getting near to Halloween, which was at that time one of my favorite holidays. The parties and costumes all added up to some fun and I was looking forward to it. The Thursday night before Halloween a short chain of events began that would have a serious impact on my life.

I was walking by the old Greyhound Station on Howard and Monument Street when I noticed a woman being hounded by an older black guy. He was obviously following her and she was obviously uncomfortable with it. He was talking to her in a lecherous way and you could see her fear.

Crossing the street I walked up behind them both from an angle and slipping my arm into hers I smiled and said to her, “Sorry I’m late.” Fixing him with a glare I said, “Thanks for watching out for my girl, bro.” And then I walked her around the corner and out of sight.

Dropping her arm I apologized and she assured me there was no need to, as she needed the rescue. Her name was Mary and as we walked along a bit I let her know we should split up now as I could be part of a scam. She seemed pretty unconcerned but agreed. She also suggested that I meet her on Saturday night at an activist Church nearby that was hosting a Halloween Party. I agreed and we parted.

I decided to go to the party at the Church because I was kind of sick of the bar scene at the time. And the fact that Mary would be waiting for me was a definite enticement. The big question was what to go as. I finally decided to go as a Tom cat- you know- looking for a kitty. So I took a wire hangar and stretched it out to an acceptable length- then I added a grey scarf which I wound around the hangar/tail and topped that off with some swirls of masking tape. Attaching the wire hangar to my rear belt loop and adding some whiskers to my face with a blackened cork, I was off to the races.

The Church was one of those “activists” ones. By that I mean they were really not that religious- they were kind of a gathering spot for political activists touting such causes as El Salvador, Legal Defense Funds, Battered Women, and After School Care etc.

Mary was there waiting with some friends and the party was already started. There was a band playing and they had some really tacky disco lights going. The biggest surprise of the evening was when Mary and I were dancing and she started doing cartwheels and all sorts of splits to the music. Turned out she was a gymnast and I started thinking of all the fun we might be having later on utilizing her skills…

Her friends were a group of 6 really nice looking women- some doing post graduate work, some still working towards degrees and a couple of guys who were reading Law in prep for the Bar. A very interesting crowd…

Some slow dancing began and Mary and I enjoyed the closeness and we shared a first kiss. The night was progressing nicely when at about midnight Mary got ready to go. I was confused by this. She was leaving alone and passing me on to her friends. We agreed to call one another etc.

Around 1 AM the friends, none of whose names I recall, invited me to accompany them by van to another party at the Activists Lawyers League. This party was being held at the old Enoch Pratt Free Library on the corner of Kirk and Gorsuch Streets in East Baltimore. There were lawyers and aspiring lawyers everywhere. There was lots of liquor and music, too.

I set about dancing with the ladies who had brought me there. Then I started dancing with women who asked me. I was having a great time when I spotted a woman who was standing off by herself and looking like she was not having the best of times. So I approached her and asked for a dance. She turned me down, flat and cold. “No, thanks.” The Iron Curtain. So I went back to dancing with this one and that one. But it really bugged me that this one woman wouldn't dance with me. So I asked again-same results. “No, thanks.”

After about the third time I’m thinking, “What’s her problem- it’s just a dance, not a commitment!” So I asked her again in a different way. “I've danced with every woman here tonight and you’re the only one that said no. Dance with me and I’ll leave you alone forever.” Reluctantly she began to dance- with me talking as we did. I was telling her that I had just got back from Turkey and Lebanon and when the music stopped we kept talking. Her name was Karen. As we were talking she told me, “I have 2 kids so if that’s a problem let me know.”

After a bit some friends of hers were going outside to smoke a joint and I readily agreed. We went and huddled at the bottom of the basement steps and smoked a few before heading back in. Karen had gone to the party at the urging of some neighbors and friends.

A little while later I felt a finger trace up my back and turning around I was looking at Karen who said, “My name’s in the book.” She gave me her address and left. It was about 3 AM. I left shortly afterward and passing a phone booth I looked her up. The address was incorrect and the name didn’t quite match. It said K. Sue Hart. Still I walked home in the frigid early morning air, warmed by the evening and the dancing.

The next day I called the number in the book, which was now changed, so I called the new number. Turned out to be the right one- her name was Karen Sue. She went by the name of Sue and used the name Karen as a way of confusing the jerks and would be stalkers. We talked for hours and then agreed to meet for Chinese food on Tuesday night. She would get a sitter. After explaining that I had no car she offered to pick me up at my apartment.

Tuesday arrived and the day seemed interminably long as I waited for the evening to arrive. I was waiting at my window when her car turned the corner of Calvert and Eager Street. She parked and rang my bell.

I opened the door and there she was- blond hair with green eyes. Looking shyly down she handed me a bunch of flowers! We left for dinner almost immediately and walked to Tony Cheng’s which was only 3 blocks away.

We had Peking duck and talked about ourselves. She was divorced with 2 boys, 8 and 6 years old. Their names were Keith and Shane. She was originally from Chambersburg, Pennsylvania and had left because of the small town atmosphere. They actually listed the divorces in the local newspaper. This kind of stigmatized the ladies in certain ways. Also the job market would be easier to crack in Baltimore so she moved down 2 years earlier and took a job at Social Security Headquarters. She had put a down payment on a small house nearby and began her life anew.

We went back to my place after dinner and talked a bit more. There really was no place to sit other than on the edge of my bed or at the tiny kitchen table. We chose the edge of the bed. It wasn't long before I kissed her. We lay back on the bed and kissed again. Things were going well when she suddenly sat bolt upright and told me she had to go- the sitter was only staying until 10 PM and it was 9:30 now.

We made arrangements to meet on Saturday morning at her place to drive the kids to their Dad’s for the weekend. We spoke on the phone every day that week while waiting for Saturday to arrive. When it did I took a cab to her house and met the kids for the first time.

They were typical kids, running and shouting. They seemed uninterested in me, like I was just one of many passing through. We drove up to Chambersburg, dropped them off and then Sue showed me around her home town and introduced me to some friends. I got the feeling she was showing me off!

We arrived back in Baltimore that evening and I made my famous NY Strip Steak covered with Back Fin Lump Crabmeat and then topped with Muenster cheese. Dinner was about ready when Sue suggested we have dessert first…

The Perfect Family

When we lived in Hampstead, Maryland; which is about 25 miles to the northwest of Baltimore; we lived next to the “perfect” family. It used to drive me nuts, seeing them trim the lawn together while I couldn't get my own kids to pitch in with the chores without resorting to out and out violence.

When it snowed the entire family; which consisted of “Fran” and “Vincent”, along with their two children; a daughter by her previous marriage and an infant son which they had together, all shoveled the driveway. Now, my own family was of a similar make up; with Sue’s two sons from her first marriage and an infant daughter of our own; so I was a bit miffed at what I perceived to be the better performance by my counterpart in the enemy camp; Vincent.

How was he able to pull off such feats as getting the family to do what they needed to do? And, further to my amazement, all of this was accomplished without the yelling and fighting which was kind of normal in our home.

I mean, this guy, when he washed his cars the whole family was out there. I washed ours alone. He had his infant son toddling after him with a toy mower when he did the lawn, my kids couldn't have cared less. And when the skies deposited 18 inches of snow one January day, they pulled their kids on a sled into town and had snowball fights on the front lawn. My own children were glued to an Atari game.

Their family even grocery shopped together! It drove me mad. Until one day when I noticed that “Fran” was often to be seen in the parking lot of the local Shell station talking for hours with the local policeman; we only had one in the town at the time; or with some of the many young volunteer firefighters. You couldn't swear that there was anything untoward about this behavior, but at the same time it did seem odd.

Time passed; we lived in that house for 11 years; and we had seen 2 different neighbors come and go before “Vincent” and “Fran”. Little did we know that we would soon be seeing them depart as well. The signs were there; the family was not out as often together, and “Vincent” seemed to be spending more and more nights working late at the office. Gone was his joyful demeanor, replaced with a grim resignation to do his duty as a parent to his children.

Where was “Fran”? The lovely neighbor next door had moved in with one of the young firefighters, initially even taking her 14 year old daughter with her! “Vincent” put a stop to that and soon was raising both kids by himself, while “Fran” was making the rounds of the local firefighters.

I don't know whatever happened to them , or the children. But I do know that my impression of my own family changed as a result of the incident, and I found myself more and more content with my own "imperfect" wife and children.

Happy Birthday Sue!

Today is Sue’s birthday. I wouldn't tell you how old she’s not- but she is a couple of week’s older than me; and wiser, too. This photo; which is one of my favorites; was taken in New York about a year after we met in Baltimore, where I was sitting for my Third Mates License and Sue was working for Social Security. We've been together ever since, much to my good fortune and a lapse of judgment on her part.

We met when both of us had just turned 29; and hopefully were old enough to know who we really wanted to spend the rest of our lives with. Sue, thanks for letting me be your husband. I was waiting for you to come along. I just never understood what took you so long.  

Happy Birthday Sue - you still light up my life...

William Beanes and the Star Spangled Banner

Today is Defenders Day in Baltimore, Maryland. The occasion marks the Battle of Fort McHenry and the birth of our National Anthem, written by Francis Scott Key. As a kids we all learned the basics of that story, but there is much more to it than what you were taught in grade school. I first posted this in 2010, but want to reprise it today for those who have not read it before. The picture above was taken by my daughter Sarah in 1998.

I have always been the type that stops to read the historical markers on the side of the road. When I was an estimator, working in and around Washington, D.C., I frequently went to the Prince Georges County Courthouse to obtain Building Permits and Deed information. Across the street from the courthouse was an old, and sometimes unkempt, grave which always intrigued me. One day, when I had some time to spare, I walked over to see it more closely and was surprised to find that this man, one Dr. William Beanes, was connected to; wait, make that responsible for; the chain of events that culminated in Francis Scott Key writing "The Star Bangled Banner" some 199 years ago today. Let me tell you the story.

Dr. Beanes was born in Upper Marlboro, Prince Georges County in Maryland in the year 1749. He was the son of a prominent planter. Educated in Scotland at the University of Edinburgh, he became a Doctor and returned home to Maryland.

Still living at the time of the War of 1812, he resided in Upper Marlboro, around which some of the preliminary battles to seize Washington, D.C. were being fought in September of 1814. And this is where Dr. Beanes begins his intersection with history.

The British were foraging for food and supplies when they arrived at Dr. Beanes home. He identified himself as a Federalist, the American political party which was vehemently opposed to the war with Britain. He even went so far as to let them take whatever they needed, and was so cooperative, that he was paid full market value for everything that the British took from him.

They then proceeded on their journey, leaving 4 men behind. 2 of these were "stragglers", who had become separated from their units. The other 2 were deserters, and had they been caught by the British, would be hung.

The following day found Dr. Beanes strolling across his fields with American General Bowie when they noticed 2 men lurking nearby. These were the "stragglers." A short time later the deserters were captured as well and all 4 were held in Upper Marlboro. The news spread quickly and soon the British had sent a squad back to the town to collect the prisoners. They gave the town until noon the next day to produce them or else the entire town would be burned.

The next day the town gave them the "stragglers", who were after all, still enemies, but refused to give up the deserters. By this time they had been removed to Queen Anne County for safe keeping. When the British began to make preparations to burn the town, Dr. Beanes quickly offered himself in exchange. This was a remarkable man, who, at one moment is dealing with the enemy for provisions in a war to which he is opposed, the next moment finds him capturing the enemy and then aiding in hiding 2 of them before finally offering himself up in an effort to spare his town!

When the British left Upper Marlboro, a Mr. Weems and Dr. Hill rode to Georgetown, where Richard West, a friend of Dr. Beanes, contacted his brother-in-law, Francis Scott Key, a prominent attorney and also brother in law to Richard Taney. The trio was able to contact President Madison and he dispatched Mr. Key, along with the Presidents emissary for Prisoner exchanges, John Skinner, aboard the USS Minden to seek out the British Fleet and arrange for the release of Dr. Beanes.

Starting downriver from Baltimore the Minden located the British at the mouth of the Potomac, just as they were about to turn and head towards Fort McHenry and Baltimore. They had already burned Washington, D.C., and the capture of Baltimore would be another "feather in their caps."

The British were, at first, reluctant to release Dr. Beanes, and both Mr. Skinner and Mr. Key were appalled at the condition of Dr. Beanes, who was being held in solitary confinement and on reduced rations. But as affidavit after affidavit poured in from the British commanders in the field, attesting to Dr. Beanes fair treatment of the British, both General Ross and Admiral Cochrane agreed to his release. However, as Skinner and Key had been aboard too long, and heard too much about the British plans, all three would be held until the following day, when the battle for Baltimore would, presumably, be over.

That night the British sailed up river to Fort McHenry and the bombardment began. Throughout the night both Key and Skinner struggled in vain to see if the flag had been "struck", or lowered, indicating surrender on the part of the Americans. But as the dawn broke, and the smoke cleared, Key could see "by the dawn's early light, what so proudly we hailed, at twilights last gleaming..." The flag was still flying when the British turned around.

The British may have managed to burn the White House and drive the government out of town, but they would not go on to win a victory in Baltimore, and they would lose the war. Although the Treaty of Ghent was signed on December 24th, 1814, word of the treaty would not reach America until February of 1815. By that time the British had lost The Battle of New Orleans, fought in January of 1815, which resulted in their unconditional surrender, and almost 150 years later inspire another, but quite different song, concerning the events there. But that's another story, and another blog....