MANY TEARS AND UNANSWERED QUESTIONS

It was a gut-wrenching scene. Mother was sitting on the couch in tears holding a letter in her hand when I arrived home from school. Mother (being the only daughter among five brothers) was usually stoic and never cried in any situation – though raising two boys she must have often felt like it.

This incident happened during my 15th or 16th year. One could get a driver’s license at 14, restricted to daylight hours, and unrestricted at 16. With only one car, a ’37 Chevy, I seldom had use of the car, and then only after begging and agreeing to many rules and stipulations. Dad was very protective of the 8-year-old family car, as the war rationing of gas and tires was just ending. My parents had a generally conservative behavior caused by the 2nd World War following the great depression. In 1945 after the war you had to be on the dealer’s wait-list for a year or two to buy a car at full list price, plus “fees”.

Dad had to be out of town with several other men he officiated football games with for a rules meeting prior to the football season. I was given the use of the car during his overnight absence with the usual many stipulations and restrictions: 20 miles max, in town only, no excessive joy riding, etc., etc.

So I loaded up a few friends, Cliff, Joe, Don, Mick and Charlie. After Don, who later became a priest, disconnected the speedometer, we decided our destination would be Nickerson, a town of less than 1000, 7 miles from Hutchinson. We cruised the main street, two blocks long, stopped and talked to some girls; then after a couple of trips and U-turns on the main street an officer of the law stopped us and suggested we leave town before we got into trouble. Why did he think we might be breaking any laws?

Well, I read the letter Mom shoved toward me saying, “I never thought your Dad would do something like this,” through great sobs of grief, with shoulders shaking. The envelope was addressed to PAUL IMES and postmarked Nickerson. Two pages of feminine handwriting addressing “Dear Paul” and carrying on about how much fun they had with “you boys” and hoping for our return soon, suggesting it would be a lot of additional fun.

Well, my mind raced. How did those girls get my Dad’s name? What was a good defense? Mostly I just sadly shook my head side to side and mumbled that “I wouldn’t believe it either”. I either thought about, or maybe I questioned Mom about why she would open a letter clearly addressed to Dad, but mostly just kept quiet as such grief and devastation always calls for when an appropriate comment won’t come to mind. My next move was to walk over to see a friend and make myself scarce for a while so Dad could get home from work and they could work this matter out between them.

I don’t recall any inquisition nor did I ever admit to either parent the obvious – Vernon and the boys had caused excitement in the female population of Nickerson. And to this day I don’t know whether Mom’s crying was acting or real. I think it surely was a very convincing act. They remained a faithful, loving couple to Mom’s death just prior to their 50th anniversary.