Michelle had a sympathetic look on her face, thinking of her twin sister. “Afterwards, she always felt terrible about her behavior. A few times she even came home crying because she thought she acted so horribly, he wouldn’t want to spend time with her. But that never happened and they managed to spend more and more time together. When I saw the way he smiled at her, I knew he thought of Danielle as a special person.”
“I guess I was too busy to notice.”
“Danielle felt that there were plenty of times in the last two years he could have taken advantage of her—and she would have let him, believe me—but he never did. She told Larry she knew in her heart she wanted to spend the rest of her life paying him back for waiting for her to grow up. She said she wanted to make a home for them so filled with joy and laughter, everyone would be jealous of their relationship.”
“I had no idea.”
“Larry told her it wasn’t easy for him to wait either but he was afraid if he did take advantage of her, it might destroy their relationship, and there was no way he was going to let that happen. He told her to start shopping for a formal dress because she was going to be his date to our school’s formal dance next month. She said that she tried to tell him how much she loved him then, but she couldn’t because she was crying.”
That made Michelle happy as well. Her eyes filled with tears as she related the story.
“She told Mom and Dad that you and Larry were going down to the Keys later in the week. Larry said we should join you. And surprisingly, my folks thought it was okay. Later I heard Dad said to Mom, ‘After all these years taking such good care of the twins, they aren’t going to do anything to hurt them. In fact, the twins are going to come home filled with a million stories of what fun they had.’ So, those two have spent the last two days shopping for this trip.”
“Outrageous.”
“There are two coolers in our car with everything needed for four people to sustain themselves on a four-day boat trip.”
“Larry and your sister are magic. I thought they were close but only brother-sister close.”
“Meyer—you watch and see. Danielle won’t let Larry get more than an arm’s length away from her.”
Her expression changed. “We have to try something, Mr. Minkowski.” Michelle stood in front of me and, standing on her tiptoes, gave me a long kiss.
She stepped back. “Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
I replied, “Honestly, it was as if I was kissing my sister. How was it for you?”
“I’ve never kissed my sister that way, but if I ever do, I suspect it will feel the same. You and I are headed in different directions, aren’t we?”
* * *
It was a sunny day with an incredible blue, nearly-cloudless sky. As we walked up the pier toward the now-gleaming Connie, resplendent in her new woodwork, I noticed the name of the boat had finally been changed. It read Danielle’s Dory.
Danielle shouted, “Larry, you named your boat for me!”
“Not quite,” he replied with a grin. “I renamed our boat for you.” Kissing ensued between them until I was wondering if they were going to board the boat or just stand there and kiss.
Michelle was right. They were never more than an arm’s length away from each other the entire voyage and were magic for each other. They argued about ethics and laughed and joked and giggled constantly. They teased and played tricks on each other. Danielle’s Dory began filling with laughter and joy. I am sure the old mahogany and teak still rings with the joy and laughter those two created.
We loaded the boat with our supplies and prepared to get under way. Then we men reviewed some of the safety rules with the girls, but the young ladies were so excited it’s doubtful they listened. Larry pulled in the docking lines and I brought the Connie’s deep throated engines rumbling to life.
Meyer was at the helm because he was more adept a boat handling. Larry and Danielle cared little for who was at the helm because they were already making a place to lay next to each other on the Connie’s broad bow. They had so many cushions, towels, and blankets piled up there, it almost looked like a nest.
Churning into the Atlantic, the air cooled so Michelle and I put on sweatshirts. Larry and Danielle wrapped themselves in blankets and used body heat to keep each other warm. Danielle brought along a stack of books, each had pieces of paper bookmarking where she would find ethics questions they could discuss.
Michelle assisted at the helm. In between navigation duties and watching out for other boaters, we reviewed material for her AP Chemistry final. The Connie cruised a sedate sixteen knots, the Atlantic was calm, and the ride was smooth and easy down to the Keys. We docked as close as we could to the John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park.
The next day our foursome went on a glass-bottomed boat tour to see the coral and the other magnificent sea creatures living there. The following day we rented a shallow draft boat which we used to get out next to the stunning reefs, then carefully dropped anchor so as to not damage the beautiful coral heads.
With mask, snorkel, and fins, we swam over the amazing corals waving in the current. Some of the smaller fish were so curious they would swim up to our masks as if trying to peer into the swimmer’s eyes.
After dinner, I sat on the screen-enclosed rear deck of the Connie reviewing some math proofs I would be presenting after the trip. I stopped my review, poured myself a glass of wine, then thought of the immense beauty seen at the Pennekamp State Park. From below deck, Danielle and Larry started laughing.
I suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness that I couldn’t share this nautical adventure with a girl I knew from the Northwest. Joan would have been fascinated by every creature. If she had seen the sea turtle which passed us, her joy would have endured for days. Michelle saw my sadness and asked if I was okay.
“Thinking of a friend I lost.”
The following morning, Larry and I woke up early and set the table on the rear deck for breakfast. When everything was prepared, I called Michelle and said we needed to go for a short walk.
“Let’s eat first. I’m starving.”
In a stern voice I told her, “We’re going for a walk—now.”
“Okay, Okay. You don’t have to be grouchy about it.”
Larry called Danielle up on deck just after the we two left. After a few minutes, I heard Danielle’s scream.
“What happened?”
“She found the ring. Larry just served her a flute of champagne with an engagement ring in the bottom of the glass. We can walk back to the boat now.”
“You knew?”
“Not only did I know, but your mom and dad know as well.”
Back on deck, the two sisters looked at each other, screamed, and shared a big hug.
Danielle showed the ring to Michelle. “Not bad for a camel jockey,” she said.
Michelle and I laughed but poor Larry didn’t understand the joke.
We all had a great time in the Keys, but for Michelle and me it was definitely the big-brother-little-sister kind.
It was obvious, to the entire world if they’d seen it, that Larry and Danielle were meant for each other. Larry went to work with the twins’ dad after graduation. They moved into the apartment Larry and I shared during college while Danielle attended college nearby—Michelle attended a University in Boston. Danielle and Larry were married a year later and she went on to complete a PhD—in ethics, of course.
The last few weeks of my last year in college turned out to be quite depressing. I received a message from Uncle Sam. It started with the phrase, Greetings from your President—I had been drafted into the army.
Thoughts of Joan were now far from my mind. At the end of the year I went over to say good-bye to the twins and their parents.
The last thing Michelle told me was, “When I find Mr. Right, believe me he isn’t going to be one of you math or science geeks. If I’m ever on a date with a guy who pulls out a slide rule, it will signify the sudden death of the date, and the r
elationship.”
Life does turn out differently than expected as certainly would be the case for Michelle.
Mr. Warshawsky told me, “Please take care of yourself while you’re in the army. Come back in one piece and look me up. I’ll have a job for you.”
Chapter Five
~ Vietnam
I wasn’t in good physical condition when I reported for Basic Training—unless it was the kind of physical condition needed to drive to the bookstore to buy another book. In fact, prior to the army, when I got the feeling I should exercise, I usually laid down until the feeling passed.
Unfortunately, when I got to Fort Polk I had to wait two weeks for my Basic Training class to begin. We were kept busy doing lawn maintenance and painting chores, interspersed with some short hikes. I was getting bored out of my mind toward the end of the first week.
This taught me an important lesson—never let your complaints be overheard by a sergeant.
We had just received our uniforms and boots and a sergeant overheard me complaining about the boring work. He asked if I had been to college—yes I had—and if I would volunteer to help with a problem. Thinking anything was better than what I’d been doing, I enthusiastically replied in the affirmative.
“Follow me.”
As we walked, he asked what my major was in college.
“Mathematics,” I proudly replied.
“Perfect for this assignment and it may take a couple of days to complete.”
We walked to an area next to the company headquarters building. There were eight of my fellow inductees standing there. The sergeant asked them to line up in a straight line.
“Okay, raise your left hand,” he told them.
A flurry of left and right hands went up in the air. The hands started alternating as the men looked at each other, figuring the guy next to them probably knew which one was left.
“Okay, quit flapping your arms,” the sergeant bellowed as he turned to me. “Okay, college man, can you see the problem?”
I could and figured that within an hour I would have it worked out. Two hours later, the sergeant came by and saw I made almost no progress. He gave me two dollars and told me to run to the PX and buy two lipsticks. Upon my return he took one of the lipsticks and wrote an L on the left hand of each of my students. He told them they couldn’t wash it off until every one of them knew their left from right.
Wearing lipstick on their hands was an absolute nightmare for the men.
“If one of my friends from back home saw me with lipstick on my hand, I would die of shame—but not before my friends died of laughter”
A couple of hours later, the sergeant came by again and I could at least demonstrate some progress. If I lifted my right arm as I faced them and told them to lift their left arm, they mostly raised their left arm.
“Not bad.” He turned to the men and shouted. “Okay, now listen up. Right Face!”
A few turned right and a few turned left, and at least two did a complete three-hundred-sixty turn.
The sergeant turned back to me. “Keep going, son.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Later in the evening, I noticed two of the men from my class were working hard at shining their boots until they looked like patent leather. I asked why.
“The army done give me my first pair of new shoes,” one replied smiling.
“Hell, the army done give me the first set of new clothes I ever done had!” said the other one.
They were both from the mountains of Appalachia and they would become two of my best buddies in the army. By the end of the next day I could demonstrate to the sergeant all eight men knew their left hand from their right and could follow left and right face commands.
“Ready for Basic Training,” he exclaimed.
The men thanked me for helping them and said if I ever needed help they would be right there to assist me—it was not just idle talk.
A month later, on a long hike, the heavy-set man walking next to me twisted his knee and fell. As I helped him get his rather substantial bulk on his feet again, I asked if I should request permission for him to ride in a Jeep. He said no, he wanted to finish with everyone else. I got under his left arm to try to take some of the weight off his strained knee. After about a hundred yards I was sweating profusely, when, without any prompting from me, my left-right buddies came up and took turns with me helping our fellow soldier complete the hike.
* * *
A few weeks later, we were sleeping in tents and I was having a terrible time getting enough sleep. This led to another lesson; never open your mouth without thinking, even if you’re going to tell the truth.
I was marching about halfway down, on the outer, right-hand side of a column of about one hundred men. We were been marching straight for the longest time when the column abruptly turned left. I kept going and tumbled into a ditch on the side of the road.
A sergeant came running over, and as I was getting to my feet he asked, “What happened to you?”
Unfortunately, I told him the truth. “I must have fallen asleep, Sergeant.”
“What? You...you...” he stammered, “…you can’t fall asleep when you’re marching. Nobody falls asleep when they’re marching. Don’t tell me you fell asleep while you’re marching! I know you’re one of them college boys who think you know so much—every July we get you college clowns, and you don’t even have enough sense to know you can’t fall asleep when you’re marching!”
His face was getting so red and he was so agitated, I thought he would have a heart attack right there. I sanitized the above quote, by the way, as in reality the sergeant repeatedly interjected comments during his rage at me. Apparently my family lineage was suspect, he was certain my brains—if I had any—were in my posterior area, and I was the dumbest four-letter-word-starting-with-F he ever encountered. All in all, quite an accomplishment, I’d say.
* * *
A few months into Basic Training we had our first inspection. Men who got excellent marks would get a twenty-four-hour pass to go into town. The guy I shared a bunk with and I stayed up all Friday night to make sure everything was perfect. We even went out and bought new toothbrushes to put in our lockers so we wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning our old ones. We made up our bunks so tight you could bounce a quarter off them. We were ready.
As the sergeant came down the line, I heard him pointing out things other soldiers had performed incorrectly. I knew we had done those things correctly. When he got to my bunk, he was quiet for quite a while as looked over my gear. I remember thinking the pass was just a moment away. And then he picked up my new toothbrush.
“This is dirty,” he told me with a huge grin on his face.
I couldn’t believe it. He held up my new toothbrush and, sure enough, there was dust in the hole at the bottom of the toothbrush. My buddy and I got passes, but we were so tired from staying awake on Friday night, we just slept away our time off base.
During Basic Training in company Alpha Two-Two, we were taught the following company motto by our assistant drill instructor. We used it whenever we started a new training class during the first two weeks.
We are A-Two-Two, sir—We are happy to be training for the infantry.
A senior drill sergeant was assigned to us two weeks later. When he heard the company motto, he was furious.
“Soldiers don’t talk that way,” he spat at us.
Immediately, we got a new motto.
A-Two-Two—we are the Tigers. Big fucking Tigers with a dick this big! Whereupon we would hold up our hands, spread a yard apart.
I’ll never be sure if the motto taught me how to talk as a soldier, but when one hundred and ten, nineteen to twenty-two–year-old men, shouted it out, we did get some laughs.
* * *
The shooting ranges were entertaining as I had many years of experience with pistols and rifles before I was drafted. On one of our first range exercises, I was doing awfully well and one of our drill sergeants asked if I w
ould go down to the end of the line and help one of the guys. He was having a terrible time trying to hit anything.
“He seems to be doing just what I tell him, but he rarely hits the target,” the sergeant told me. “See if you can tell what he’s doing wrong while I work with some of the others.”
I tried to work with the guy. No luck. He would hit the target about one out of every seven shots… I noticed he was squinting a lot. “Did you wear glasses when you were a civilian?
He replied emphatically, “Hell no. I ain’t defective.”
I asked him to read a nearby sign. It had four lines of twelve-inch-high block letters and was fifteen yards away.
“I can’t read the sign ‘cause them letters is moving too dang much.”
Two days later he was one of the best shots on the range, courtesy of his new glasses. He did finally admit his eyes were defective, but insisted, in a rather loud and forceful manner to anyone who would listen, “Nothin’ else about me is defective.”
* * *
During my second week in Vietnam, we were taking a break from our seemingly never-ending hikes near a bridge over the Troi River. An old Vietnamese lady slowly walked past us. One of the Vietnamese children, who followed us everywhere when we were near villages, told me she was more than ninety.
She had a thoroughly wrinkled face. Her shoulders were bent forward and her spine was curved as if she had spent many years carrying heavy loads on her back. She held a walking stick in gnarled, arthritic hands and walked with a slow gait, as if each step was painful. I walked next to her for a few steps and asked her if she thought the Americans would make things better for the Vietnamese.
Her gaze shifted from straight in front of her to glance up at me. Without slowing her walk she smiled briefly at me. “A young Frenchman asked me the same thing twenty years ago.”
* * *
At one point during my sojourn in Vietnam, our combat platoon was told to hike out of the jungle to a main road so trucks could pick us up to move us to a new location. We’d hiked like madmen, hacking our way through the thick jungle to get to the main road many miles from our starting point. It took three long, strength-sapping days to get there and we were absolutely exhausted by the time we arrived.
Finding a Soul Mate (Meant to be Together Book 1) Page 6