Driver, T. C. (9 page)
The next morning, our whole group took off again, plus the two Dave brothers, Bo and Don. They were two blues musicians who were close friends of Mitch and Janet Johnston. They were hitching a ride because Bo had wrecked their tour bus. These two really 'mellowed out' our flight. Think Woodstock (ha-ha)! Complete with rose colored glasses. Bo and Don were from Yorktown, Va. They were famous 'back in the day'. I still have some of their early stuff on vinyl.
For this long flight to Thailand, we flew in a small, slow cargo box plane, a puddle jumper with two old, very loud turbo-prop engines. This was a worthy 'all glory is fleeting' moment for all of us famous aviator types. We rode in cargo class (ha-ha) with stacks of air plane tires between our long, bench style wall seats. There was only one window in the side door of our plane. Old Paul Goldwater sat down between Sarah and I. Everybody in our group knew we were lovers. Paul was being his 'I'm the boss' self and an ass! Bo and Don started smoking up the cabin with the biggest blunt I'd ever seen. Unk, Sarah, Duck and I, all knowing a twelve hour flight was ahead of us, gladly joined Bo and Don's party. We all numbed the painfully loud decibels with dope and laughter. The two Indian pilots were raising hell about the smoke, but the old plane was not airtight anyway. Goldwater was fuming mad. Paul soon moved up front close to the pilots. They closed the curtain on him (ha-ha) and Paul laid his head down as far away from the rest of us as possible. Both the Indian pilots and Goldwater eventually stopped raising hell about the smoke and the 'Indian police'. We all knew that there was much more to worry about than dope and continued blunting our long flight.
I stared out 'the window' during flight as Sarah slept, and leaned on me as a pillow. I thought about 'back in the day' when Paul and I were brothers-in-law. He married the oldest (homely and stocky) sister, HEDDIE, called 'Sissy'. I married the middle, cute sister, the popular one,
PATTY, and a 'big bark' Pee Wee Herman type of guy named Barnie married the hot, spoiled, angry baby sister, DEBBIE.
The Mother and Father of these three girls, and one somewhat normal son, were great, generous and God loving people. Mr. Cracker worked as a diesel mechanic all his life. Mrs. Cracker stayed home or helped in the local school cafeteria. The family lived in a small, simple home on the side of a steep hill, very close to the main 'two lane' highway. The children had a modest, but Godly and blessed childhood. The oldest and youngest sisters grew close; they were fourteen years apart in age. The middle sister Patty
was their mother’s favorite. The other two would have nothing to do with my Patty. All of their lives, the 'evil sister duo' has played the 'both ends against the middle' game. Both
sisters hated the popular middle sister.
These Cracker girls grew up envious of their many 'middle class' neighbors who had, in their eyes, 'fine brick homes' and fancy cars. At this level of society, 'money' meant that Dad worked for the Post Office, UPS or the N&W Railroad.
Two local farmer's daughters were close school and church friends with my wife, Patty Cracker. These pretty, farmer's daughters were scorned and hated by both of Patty's sisters. They were scorned so badly that it became a
source of constant embarrassment to me as a young son-in-law. The biter envy that sister one, HEDDIE, and sister three, DEBBIE, had for these two farmer's daughters with their Eigner handbags and fancy 'store bought' J.C. Penny clothes was nearly too much for the selfish, evil, 'wanna be' stepsister duo to suffer. My own young wife, Patty, in sharp contrast, worried little about social status or fancy things. Patty was popular in school and had many dates, friends and activities. She sang in church and in the school choir. She was a talented artist with a giving nature; a classic 'middle sister' personality. Patty often did the other sister's hair, their decorating, flower arrangements, etc. She had the heart of a servant. Patty was the one, of course, taking care of their Mother the night she was taken to the hospital and died. The other sisters had 'no time'. My wife's sisters spent a lifetime despising 'Momma's favorite'. For example, my Patty was not asked to be in either of her sister's weddings, while they were both in hers. Pure, cold vindictiveness ruled their lives! This evil sister duo did little or nothing in school or church, and
were very much ashamed to bring school friends home and stayed angry at Patty for constantly bringing her friends and dates around the house. These girls were genuinely ashamed of their own family, of their simple home, of their Father's never come clean dirty work hands and their Mother's simple country, slang speech. Yes, this poor, selfish, step-sister “wanna be” duo
was embarrassed of and by their own loving parents.
No pain this deep or grievous have I personally known or had to bear. Truly my heart has always wept for them; in soul and in spirit. This heavy burden of pain, shame, uncontrolled anger and envy has controlled them and enslaved them in misery, all the days of their lives!
The older sister, HEDDIE, called Sissy, had a crazy looking 'lazy eye' which was getting much better now with the use of store bought 'doctor medicine'. She grabbed up young Paul Goldwater in marriage before he 'went off' to school. Paul's eccentric parents never spoke to Sissy, even unto their death. She was never 'good enough' for little Paul. Sissy was wise and played her cards right. She saw Paul as her way out; her way up; her ticket to the better half side. Sissy helped put Paul through ten years of college and a doctorate degree and then became his house slave for life. That is when she started 'losing it'; a family mental disorder, or condition that the Cracker family is known for. Old Crackers reach a point when they stop bathing, shaving
and or cutting their nails. They stand around urinating on themselves and mumbling nonsense. This condition starts like clockwork in their sixties and is often referred to as the curse or the HEDDIE syndrome (after Sissy's namesake). It is well known, affecting a full third of all Crackers. When Sissy started going downhill, Paul put her into the Catawba Hospital Sanitarium. This was done soon after all parents were dead. Now Paul and his equally selfish daughters have abandoned Sissy completely. No one in the family had the heart or unselfish love it takes to care for another human being. Now Paul, after his own Father's death, has proudly come out of the closet late in life, a badge of honor in his sick, academic circles. Although Sissy and I were never close, I have always despised Paul for using her so and treating her so badly. Just part of his selfish nature, I guess.
Sarah woke up and we both took a toilet break, trying not to wake the others. Bo Dave was the only one up as we sat down again. The loud drone of the turbo props made conversation difficult so hand gestures ruled our communication. Seats in the plane were of military transport or cargo design, not as of airline seats. Bo and I sat facing each other. Sarah had curled up with her back toward Bo. As Bo and I passed the dope back and forth, my reaching would cause Sarah's short skirt to 'shine' Bo. We were both cracking up laughing. Goldwater, still up front, shook his head and said 'pervert'. Bo and I laughed too loud. I tried not to look at crazy Bo Dave again to avoid laughing and stared instead out the plane's one big window once again.
The youngest sister, DEBBIE, was spoiled by her parents as best they could and was ten years younger than my wife and I. Her angry, selfish, stubborn nature even surpassed that of Paul Goldwater. At least Paul had a good sense of humor.
“I know this one is trouble” her Mother would say. Or “we can't do anything with her” or “I've got my eye on her. Fact was, neither parent could control little DEBBIE. She screamed at both her parents with little remorse or mercy throughout her youth. By her senior year in high school, she demanded a shiny red Camaro. She was used, but in good condition (the car I mean). She also demanded that she live off-campus at college (neither older sister would dare). The child-whipped parents always gave into their baby girl. Mother was already working a rare, full-time, extra job to help with the school costs. Her parents gave up a big vacation planned for years and also a trade of the family car for DEBBIE to have her every whim.
Our cute little DEBBIE, of course, thought nothing of their sacrifice.
For the next twenty-five years, little DEBBIE and her husband Barnie, were always slow to visit and even
more quick to leave the Cracker house.
This wounded her poor mother to heart. The couple would not let Mother buy Christmas or birthday gifts as she did for the rest of the family. Mother did not have taste; she bought cheap stuff; not the right brand names. All gifts had to be first approved by DEBBIE. Just before my mother-in-law died, this lonely old woman missed her grand kids so much that she would beg over the phone to be allowed to come to Greensboro for a visit. Little DEBBIE would most often say “This is not a good weekend, no, not tonight mom!” The countless times I consoled their crying Mother after she was rejected by DEBBIE and Barnie was, I suppose unknown to them. That and how close we still were during my divorce and estrangement. Yes, even right up to her Mother's death. The heartache this young brat caused her saintly Mother was shameful.
Young DEBBIE was a cute, more than pretty child. Now at fifty, her bitter continence is most disturbing to look upon. DEBBIE was 'hot' by sixteen, but was never model or prom queen beautiful. She was classic hillbilly jail-bait, a hot sizzle, a temptation; with little personality or depth. DEBBIE was usually dumped by the popular boys she dated soon after 'giving it up'. Her Mother would say to me that David, Mark or Brian (fill in the blank) had treated our poor little DEBBIE so bad! Like her older sister, she married to 'get out'. Her 'Barnie Fife' preppie looked like a great catch, never mind that he killed a friend at college; his parents drove a 'new car' a Ford LTD. With young Alfred Barney Head and DEBBIE it was love at first ride. One particular night when she was sixteen, the still young and
still innocent DEBBIE spread her, I supposed, virgin flower before me. Masturbation was her specialty, an early childhood obsession. And now with years of practice under her belt, she was getting damn good at it. My seeing of her naked, spread on her bed masturbating (on the way to my shower), made her so hot that she tossed and screamed for relief. As her body arched upwards off the bed, a violent orgasm shook her frame completely. For fun, I let my towel drop, teasing her to a raging frenzy. I then continued to my shower and on to work that early morning. Back then, I had considered it an act of wisdom, or even one of chivalry, not to have taken her virginity when offered; in her moment of weakness. Only months later, her parade of boyfriends started. Her love lust, or crush on me, quickly flipped upside down into hate.
There would be no more flirting or even talking much between us after that one early morning.
I found out many years later that being scorned of her affection had pierced her deeper than any penis could have. Forty years later, she would have her Podifer's wife moment of revenge on me. 'No good deed goes unpunished'. That old saying is true, it seems, and goes double when you're dealing with a Cracker Head.
As our plane finally landed in Thailand, some twelve hours after taking off, I was still staring out into the darkness below. I remembered how the two sisters shamelessly conspired against my ex-wife Patty for petty, personal gain in their blessed Mother's modest estate. How they hungered all their life for 'class'; something I was born into. Though landing good paying jobs as adults, these poor Cracker sisters could never rise above the low estate of their birth. This was true simply because the two angry sisters had brought shame to their own family. Sick, class envy has scarred and shamed them their whole lives. What a sad, meaningless way this is to spend one's time here on earth. My own siblings, three boys and three girls, some of us making middle class incomes, some not, were all instilled with rich family heritage from a young age. We knew class did not come from our bank accounts, but rather the other way around. Many years ago, our Great Grandmother had helped found a small college. We are a proud family with history and heritage. Yes, we knew some powerful people, but we also knew that class was more than money. My own 'blessed' and 'easy life' always 'ate their guts out' on the better half side of the family. (A title to one of my songs) honor thy Father and Mother for the promise of a long life. God is true to his word, are you? Standing up for the few, the weak, that is class!
Truly I loved Patty's parents like my own. I was closer to them and spent more time with them, and respected them more that the selfish sister sibling duo ever did. This is a true, sad fact of their pathetic lives ruled by envy, hate and unforgiveness. The ability to pray the Lord's Prayer and mean it is all important in this world. The presence of God is where true class comes from at any level. My Father, the real Cornelius, once asked a group of businessmen bidding on government contracts to name the name of a porter or waiter in the large downtown hotel where they were all staying. How a man treats those who serve below him is good insight into his true character. Kiss-ass people are everywhere. My Father was not wealthy, but he had class in black tie or out.
Goldwater and I joked on the runway. We took a few parting stabs at each other. Sarah and I hugged; no big kiss this time. We both knew 'our summer romance' was over. Sarah got on a commercial flight meeting the 'shopping girls' from home and the ship. None of us yet knew that she had won her race and was already carrying the next Cornelius from our short, air show honeymoon. She would beat both her sisters and her brother to the Coe baby download punch by one month.
