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A Novella - yzed - AutoBio and - Story, OFFICIAL REVIEW, Two Sheldon Iowa Summers, By Donald De Vries

https://forums.onlinebookclub.org/viewtopic.php?t=69233

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A Review - Two Sheldon Iowa Summers

Hello Don, Here is the copy of the review I put on Amazon and GoodReads - "Donald De Vries brings us back in time to small town USA where families kept secrets, love and friendships were tested and proven and nothing was as it seemed. This is not your Mayberry RFD - but it's closer to the hometowns we all know and love. This wonderful novella fulfills its' promise to enthrall and draw you in to the dramatic whirlwind that is Sheldon, IA. Characters are immediately life-like and I fell in love with them, warts and all. De Vries writes in an honest, open way that makes you truly care about what happens next. It is a page turner!! I look forward to reading more from this author!" I hope to see Don Ling sometime this month. I'm sure he'd get a kick out your book too. I'd be happy to submit reviews for you on other web pages (other than Good Reads or Amazon)if you let me know where that would be. Thank you, Kathy Clymer

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FYI: I put this in The Sheldon, Iowa Mail - Sun Newspaper which also covers Lake Okoboji & Arnolds Park.

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Three Books

Three Books

(1.) TWO SHELDON IOWA SUMMERS –

       A highly-stylized autobiography. In a certain real sense, I, of course

am the main character. However, I have also in some sense become multiple

characters. As I absorbed deeply other’s joy and sadness as well as my own.

It seems to me my full lifetime is condensed here to 308 pages, including

the days since and the days yet to come. A sweet and tender time overlaying

the painful and tragic times. I have not forgot any of it, nor do I wish to.

I expect it will be with me as a fellow traveler to the end.

(2.) A SUMMERTIME SCRAPBOOK –

     An homage to the Waldo and Gladys (my mom and dad) De Vries birth

family. With special recognition intended for the three out of six who died long,

longer, and longest ago. As of today, May 30, 2017, the oldest of the four

De Vries boys, Rod, is among the dead; one brother, Ken, is in his eighties,

and two are in their seventies, myself 74, and still with me, my baby brother,

Terry, 70.

(3.) THE STORY BOOK – (Includes Two Stories written long ago) –

     (a.) COME BACK MOMMY, ERNIE, AND BERT -

     (“Heidi” Is In New York City) Her mom had been shot.

     (b.) LINDA THE SECOND COMING –

     (LINDA IS GIVEN THE MANTLE) Whether she likes it or not.

www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries

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#Published Third Book

I Have Published My Third Paperback BookOn Amazon Kindle KDP (It Is Also On Kindle Digital)

Book Three: THE STORY BOOK - It Includes Two Stories

Story One: Come Back Mommy, Ernie, And Bert("Heidi" Is In New York City)[And Goes To Montana Near Flathead Lake]

Story Two: Linda - The Second Coming(Linda Is Given The Mantle)[Linda Was In Sheldon, Iowa -  And Goes To Montana Near Flathead Lake] {Search on Donald De Vries in Amazon Books}

www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries

Sent from my iPhone

Begin forwarded message:

From: Kindle Direct Publishing <[email protected]> Date: April 25, 2017 at 9:17:09 PM PDT To: Donald DeVries <[email protected]> Subject: Your paperback book is available in the Amazon store!

Congratulations, the paperback edition of your book "THE STORY BOOK: Story One: Come Back Mommy, Ernie, And Bert (Heidi Is In New York City)  Story Two: Linda - The Second Coming (Linda Is Given The Mantel)" is live in the Amazon Store. It is available* for readers to purchase here. If you have republished your book, your changes are now live.

Thank you for publishing with Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP).

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FAMILY

‪Fam non-epic, but lovely. SUMMERTIME SCRAPBOOK: www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries . INSERT MISSING LINE 'And destiny calls us to go on with the show!'‬

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ALOHA

ALOHA NUI NUI THE TRUE STORY OF A FAMILY, OF FRIENDS, AND OF A TOWN. (AND THE TWO TRADGEDIES WHICH BEFELL THEM) WHERE’S WALDO? – “HAPPY NEW YEAR” - !!! - From the guy that ONE YEAR AGO at age 73 had published NO BOOKS in his life; WHO NOW at age 74 has published TWO BOOKS – GLORY BE! Please, Meet the Waldo and Gladys De Vries Family. (Where’s Waldo, Where’s Gladys, and Where’s Rod?) Now, in one glorious family, et al, in two books; one book A Novella-Yzed-AutoBio and Story, “TWO SHELDON IOWA SUMMERS”, AND the other a book in scrapbook form, in “A SUMMERTIME SCRAPBOOK”. - AN HOMAGE AND A REMEMBRANCE TO THOSE THREE OUT OF SIX IN MY BIRTH FAMILY WHO HAVE DIED. Here we see - As real characters in one book, and as real people in the other book. The two books complementary companion pieces, holding hands, breathing the same air, holding hands, and working together with oil paints, and brushes, to paint, one unified well fleshed out full color picture, in all its random orderly chaotic perfect diversity. (Both books published by Amazon Kindle KDP – digitally, as paperbacks in black and white, and as paperbacks in full color.) Don’s Amazon Books Kindle KDP Author Page Site: www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries To Explain - Uncle Forest Hedin is one of my mother’s brothers (the other brother being Clarence); Forest is a major character in my book, as well as are other family members. The story revolves around Forrest and his two, much older and at the same time much younger, girlfriends, Hattie and Gertie (you’ll just have to see for yourself). Forrest, Hattie, and Gertie, out of self-interest, watching, watching closely the towns’ blooming youth for signs and portents. Especially so for Les and Lorraine, and for Vern and Sherry. Two tragedies befall them. In the De Vries birth family of six, three brothers remain alive today; Ken, Don, and Terry – to carry on. – Thanks to all of you for listening. - Your erstwhile nonauthor, Donald Rex De Vries, author at last. Saturday, this day of our Lord, December 31, 2016. NEXT the Sheldon story – how the town and families are devastated, but go on. First comes the love, the quietness, the play, the ascension, the fall, then the pain, the craziness, the loss of hope, until a semblance of light, a semblance of hope, a semblance of love, returns - to sustain them in their permanent loss. Random ending thought: ON THE ONE HAND, ONCE SOMETHING HAS ACTUALLY HAPPENED, IT CAN NEVER BE IMPOSSIBLE, or undone, AGAIN. ON THE OTHER HAND, IT IS VERY HARD TO IMPROVE UPON PERFECTION, even though perfect imperfection might seem to describe it better.

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SUMMERTIME SCRAPBOOK

Where’s WALDO? Here’s WALDO!! And Gladys, Rod, And Uncle Forrest! Please Meet more of my family if you care to I tried to offer this “Scrapbook” FREE on this site, but I explored and called and was Not allowed to A SUMMERTIME SCRAPBOOK In Special Memory Of Three People In The De Vries Family, Waldo (Dad) And Gladys (Mom), Who Had Four Sons, Rod (The Eldest), All Prior Have Passed On; Remaining With Us This Day (12/15/16) Are Sons, Ken, Don, And Terry, And We Have All Passed The Auspicious Golden Age of 70 www.amazon.com/dp/B01NBKRYUS [This is meant as a companion piece to – TWO SHELDON IOWA SUMMERS by Donald De Vries] Where’s Trouble? Here’s Trouble!! www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries As an author, I may be a non-professional, In Terms Of Formal Training And Skills, but I do swear to the voracity of the things that happened in this book, my very own self written, self published, Semi-AutoBio-Novella featuring common characters in both, such as those named above, in The Scrapbook and in The Actual Book, Especially as Referring to Uncle Forrest Hedin - I do understand the words Tender Kind, Cruel Vicious, Brutal Savage, and Hope Love

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Wasup

Watsup? What am I Up to now Where am I At this time www.amazon.com/author/donalddevries

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Terry Note To Old Gang

Terry Note To Old Gang My younger Brother read my book and made this comment for some of the Old Hometown Gang - Thank you much Baby Brother. "Brother Don published his book! You can find it on Amazon! Very interesting story of growing up in Sheldon. If you get a chance, take a peek at it. You may recognize various character's, and it might even be you! Enjoy - Terry" (Two Sheldon Iowa Summers by Donald De Vries) Sent from my iPhone

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Uncle Forrest's Welcome Self Promo

Uncle Forrest's Welcome Self Promo Piece, as one of the main characters: 10-14-16 Uncle Forrest, high tech poet farmer, and his two much older young girl friends, Hattie and Gertie, self taught philosophers and sages, all watch, observe, and evaluate the younger generation for special possibilities; especially Les and Lorraine, and Vern and Sherry. They see them flying high, get disassembled, disemboweled, and bloodied; and then try to pick up the pieces, reassemble, and heal themselves - again and again! "TWO SHELDON IOWA SUMMERS" by Donald De Vries. Search Source - Amazon Books. A True Story. [Three versions - each with 26 Internal Pictures: 1) Amazon Kindle Electronic Digital - 26 Internal Full Color Pictures - $2.99 - (readable on nearly every device imaginable, 25 or more, - immediate download and functionality), 2) mailed print paperback - 26 Internal Black & White Pictures - $11.35, 3) mailed print paperback - 26 Internal Full Color Pictures - $56.03.] NOTE - {All Prices are suggested posted minimum Prices per the site.} Sent from my iPhone

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Two Sheldon Iowa Summers by Donald De Vries

Two Sheldon Iowa Summers by Donald De Vries

“UPDATED ‘SUMMER’ Book”

A Stylized Milieu (of my own making)

Two Sheldon Iowa Summers by Donald De Vries - Book Update (As of Tuesday, September 06, 2016):

FYI - People some time ago asked if my early Kindle Digital book version(which remains on Amazon Kindle, but has been updated) – (and still has 26 internal color pictures), Price $2.99; would ever have a Paper Print version. Miracle of miracles, it does now. “Two Sheldon Iowa Summers” now has two,Yes Two, Paper Print Versions. One with 26 black and white internal pictures – Price $11.35. One with 26 full color internal pictures – Price $56.03. [These are all posted prices Per the Company.] They are at Amazon Books, by Donald De Vries. (The story elements told in the book really did happen, but I’ve just scrambled them a bit, to obscure easy and sure identification; however, it is 96.8 % true.) It is A Novella-yzed-AutoBio and Story. (Some stranger things have happened in life, but not for a few of THESE PARTICULAR THINGS are there many stranger things. Not Likely, Anyway!) More background explanatory and descriptive information follows.

Facts: A group of Sheldon, Iowa young people had been together from grade school and now into college.  When tragedy struck, Les, Lorraine, and Vern hated themselves for their part in it. Would they be able to find any grace and forgiveness? Then, they were hit again. Would they be able to find and regain the love they yearned for and once had? That’s when opportunities for healing and loving each other even more presented themselves in unusual ways. (As has been noted and is now stressed, Stranger Things have happened in the world, but not many.)

Addendum to and Disclaimer to, and an integral part of, this Novella-yzed-AutoBio and Story, Two Sheldon Iowa Summers:

There is something I wanted you to know about this little story that I wrote, Two Sheldon Iowa Summers. There were two additional things I know my mother, Gladys, dear and well-loved lady that she was, had wanted during her lifetime. First, a number of times, because of my excessive drinking at a young age, she had asked me why I couldn’t be more like Les. Second, she had four sons, and she had also wanted a daughter. Both of these things I made up and gave her in this story. She did have a son named Les in the story, and she did have a daughter in the story. Also, in this story, her husband, Waldo, did not die at the age of 54 of his first and only heart attack. Her son, Don, (there is no one by that name in the story) in real life did get sober at the age of 26, after having drank for ten years, which made her very happy. Ironically, the very same person, named Bob, who gave Don his first mixed drink at age 16, the year his dad Waldo died, twelve stepped him into sobriety exactly ten years later. In real life. Gladys died of cancer of the liver and pancreas at the age of 67. In the story it is known, even though not shown, that Gladys and Waldo lived long and happily well into their upper 80’s. No one in this story, regardless of name or cars, [OR ANY OTHER SIMILARITIES], was patterned after a real-life person in behavior, speech, experience, or nuance. It is a made up imaginary amalgam used for story-telling purposes. That is why it is called a Novella-yzed AutoBio. Any common names, places, and experiences are portrayed fictitiously, and are only non-actual facsimiles of what might have occurred, used in loving memory and tribute to the times and experiences of my youth.

[THE ONLY TRUE AND REAL NAMES USED AS SUCH ARE THOSE ON THE MEMORIUM AND TRIBUTE PAGES NEAR THE END OF THE STORY FOR PEOPLE KILLED OR BADLY INJURED IN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENTS OF THOSE SPECIFIC TIMES. IF I HAVE INADVERTANTLY USED NAMES I SHOULDN’T HAVE, OR HAVE NOT INCLUDED NAMES I SHOULD HAVE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW, AND I WILL MAKE THE CHANGES.]

This is also an homage to my birth family and to my birth town and to countless others:

Generally, everybody in my birth family was, and still is, the best. My mother and father, Gladys and Waldo, and my three brothers, Rod, Ken, and Terry, were and still are, specifically the very best a boy like me could ever wish and hope for. The same for my home town, Sheldon, Iowa. (Note: Some things came to be known more clearly later.) The same for my marriage family.  The same for all my dear good friends. And a special mention to my friends in a certain anonymous organization. Thank you all for my good fortune and many blessings.

Biographical Elements And Other Comments

Donald De Vries was born in a small Northwest Iowa farm town, Sheldon, Iowa in 1942. He loved life-guarding at the town pool and acting while in high school. He received an undergraduate BBA degree from the University of Iowa and later, after moving to Los Angeles, received a graduate MBA degree from UCLA. He worked as a CPA and a CFO, and from age 16 to 26, also majored in drinking and driving fast cars. He just recently, a few years after retirement, self-published his first novella with Amazon Kindle. It is titled “Two Sheldon Iowa Summers”. Good Ol’ Sheldon, ‘Known to Jack Kerouac as Shelton’. Welcome all who enter here, especially the 10% who are the prime focus of this book; the alcoholics, addicts, mentally ill, and the seriously emotionally disturbed. Also, a Hearty Welcome to the 90% needed to care and provide for the 10%. Cars, trains, planes - Oops, sorry, no planes. There is a car. There is a train. The Tiger and the Rhino circle in close proximity. Don lives with his wife, Rose, in Playa del Rey, California. His three children, Jen, Joel, and Steph are grown. Two toy poodles, Cola and Moose, are part of the family. Some of Don’s favorite things to do, after spending time with his family, have been swimming, beaching, sunning, running, traveling, writing; and reading novels and other things. An overarching quote from the book is, “Sometimes after the horrendous crashing chaos, Suddenly silence, Returned, The sound of silence, How quiet and peaceful, A Northwest Iowa, Farm town can be, When it is not being, Devoured.”  Sheldon, Iowa, A True Jewel in the Heartland of Iowa. A sweet place, where friendships, education, fulfillment, love, and romance are allowed to grow up and expand in relative peacefulness, for the most part. Of course, there are always that 10% of the people, and people who just plain like to have some raucous fun, who will make sure it doesn’t lack in high drama, no matter where you are. Good Ol’ Sheldon! The Gateway to the Iowa Great Lakes, West Lake Okoboji, Arnold’s Park, and, of course, the Magnificent Roof Garden Ballroom. - Love and Good Health to All of You.

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The Farm Housewife & The SEXY Car

Please Nominate me  Novella https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/IXD96RSQKD6M Donald De Vries Two Sheldon, Iowa Summers Extra Extract - 'The Farm Housewife & The Sexy Car' Chapter 8 - Vern and His Mom Vern’s mom and dad, Martha and Bill had been making significant progress. In recognition, they had gone back to their full first names, Martha Ann and Billip. It was a week and a day before the fight at Lake Okoboji, one week exactly before the car crash, when Vern’s mom had already been waiting for ten minutes, meanwhile warming up her moving parts. She’d been looking forward to this third Thursday of the month at 10:00 P.M. for some time, to carry on with the monthly appointment that had been established about five years ago. As usual, Martha Ann sat next to the window in her third story master bedroom in the old white three story farm house, playing with herself. She kept close watch through where she’d pulled the curtain back slightly from the side of the window. Her special lamp, with a small red light bulb, sat on the adjacent table setting the mood and confirming the standing invitation. Her focus was on receiving the other parties’ return confirmation. She looked about a half mile up the north section road bordering their property, at the entry road to the milk cows’ pasture which ran up to the old windmill and stock water tank. The cows were allowed to roam free and forage in a natural pesticide free environment as part of what allowed them to sell to the Whole and Free Wholesome Farm Market Company. 10:01 P.M. sharp she saw moon glint from two cars that pulled in lightless, then sent three quick headlight flashes from the lead vehicle. She up and ran downstairs, in an extra loose sundress, grabbed the flashlight, turned it on, and out the door. Barefoot, braless, and pantyless; under her other arm she carried a new role of paper towels like a football. Emulating football strategy, she ran zig zag diversionary patterns to confound any and all who might be looking on. She said, and she told herself, she did it to keep her husband from catching her. But she knew her husband knew. She knew Vern and Merton knew. She knew everyone knew. Since Bordereau Tonners, a senior member of the Iowa Highway Patrol paid a regular visit on other nights, it was highly unlikely there would be counterproductive inconvenient fractious encounters from any uninvited guests. Bord, as he was known, had been heavily involved in the International House of Pancakes fiasco involving use of initials identical to those of the Patrol, namely I.H.P. He also shot bad people in the leg periodically to keep them on their toes, or not, whatever. His uncle was judge at the county seat in Primghar. So, security was good in terms of both strategy and force. Finally, their standard complement of two cars per visit allowed for enhanced escape options and possibilities in the event of any adversarial action. There were usually at most just four or five guys in the arriving party. A couple of regulars, a couple of irregulars, and once in a while a red shirt walk-on. There was usually some beer and or liquor around too for social lubrication. As soon as she got to the lead vehicle, she hopped in the ready prepared back seat, threw her dress back over the top of her head, spiked one heel up over the top of the front seat, one heel up over the top of the back seat, then it was arms beckoning and a smile. “Come on, Wild Child, do me lovingly.” Wild Child was nearly always there and nearly always first. It was like it was choreographed and scripted to a good degree. Wild child was always ready, and he was very good at what he did. He set the tone in stone as they liked to say. “Hi, Martha Ann, it’s nice to see you. Here I come,” which was the cue for the others to laugh uproariously and desperately work their nether members furiously if need be, which it often was, to see that proper tensile consistency was achieved for optimal operation. Wild Child never seemed to have that issue. Tonight, before all else, the first thing Wild Child did is present her with a bouquet of pansies and petunias before entering the car. “Sweet scents for the sweet scents, Dahling. Beauty for the beautiful.” Somehow beyond all imagining he made it sound sincere and respectful and at the same time fun. The only possible answer for that was that it did because he was. The bouquet was his normal third Thursday calling card and a tradition. Since his first rapturous experience with sex at eleven, he began to maintain some gentility in his encounters. He was also always smiling and talkative with sex, which helped everyone loosen up. “Okay, Wild Child, enough with the flower show. Why don’t we have some fun tonight. Do I have to beg you?” With that, he joined her and they did their best to wrestle, buck, and bounce one another from seat to ceiling. Laughing, joking, and cavorting was all part of the show, as they segued more and more down to serious business. Huckleberry was next in line as usual. He was next in line, but he was not next up. As usual, he had been pulling it, stretching it, and even beating it against the side of the car, trying, trying, trying to get some appropriate preparatory reaction, all to no avail. It never worked. Not once. But he kept coming back. At first, way back when, he had felt embarrassed and humiliated and apologized for coming here; then he felt embarrassed and humiliated and apologized for not coming here. After a while it all became part of the script. He even got better laughs with a little adlibbing. Tonight, Clem Klienwaltric, the preacher’s kid, couldn’t get it up either, no matter how hard he prayed. He struggled with shy and modest issues similar to Martha Ann’s husband, Billip. As a saving grace, Jack Imhoff did himself proud by evening up the score, 2 and 2. Jack Imhoff!? No, really, his family name really is Imhoff, and they, his dad and mom, did name him Jack. His dad said that it wasn’t as bad as a boy named Sue. So Martha Ann went two and two tonight. Time to wrap the show. They’d put away the football, they’d got out the bats, two up and two down and a home base on four balls. Night’s over. Good night. Pick up what’s left of the football, turn on the flashlight, zig zag like hell, mix up the cross field plays, make it back to the house. Bound up the stairs to the third floor bedroom. Bingo! For about five years, once a month, on the third Thursday, between about 11:00 P.M. and midnight, Billip was attacked and got lucky.

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Subject: Don's Kindle Scout 'Nominate me' Page - Please 'Nominate me' Now

Don's Kindle Scout 'Nominate me' Page - [Please everybody; Please "Nominate me" Now!] https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/IXD96RSQKD6M Donald De Vries - (For Author Name Search if needed)Two Sheldon, Iowa Summers:1) The Last Real Summer2) The Summer Of Final Judgment(For Book Title Search if needed; - {FYI - This is a Novella})[Please read the whole complete book when it is Published] - if you care to. (66,000 Words, 271 Pages, 10 Photos - What did actually happen to these people in Sheldon, Iowa?] Thank you very much everybody.

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1 of 7A, The Summer Of Final Judgment, KFed

 Subject: 1 of 7A, The Summer Of Final Judgment, KFed  Beginning to Page 21A  I shall tell you a great secret, my friend. Do not wait for the last judgment, it takes place every day.  - Albert Camus  Don De Vries  8700 Pershing Dr Unit 1311  Playa del Rey, CA 90293  Cell: 310-344-7137  [email protected]  Foreword Page i  Approx. Word Count 40,000  The Summer of Final Judgment  Two Dead, Eight to Go  To That Old Gang of mine - Our Story:        Two dead, eight to go. It sounds like another score for another game. But who was keeping score before?For the first time in my life, my head seems about useless. Two of our group of ten to fifteen, depending on who loves who or who hates who at the moment,our little gang. Gone. Suddenly. Forever. What can ahead do to ever make sense of that? Random senseless sad tragic. We’d been lucky up until now with our little gang. No extraordinary deaths in the ordinary course of living. That doesn't mean that we didn't have other close friends or classmates killed. We had what seemed like a shocking number. In our four years of high school together, eight had died in drinking and driving related accidents. Five hundred students, eight dead, that’s 1.6 percent in four years. What’s that mean? We’re so young. How can that be? We all know it, grandparents, parents, us kids, and we know it well.We’d heard it a hundred times from a hundred sources. MADD was just an exclamation point. In these days, in the “drinking and driving” respect, it's rampant, almost universal, and it isn't just alcohol. It includes a whole bunch of drugs other than just alcohol, even in a little Iowa high school. You can get anything you want anywhere anytime. Interestingly, in terms of raw numbers from the apothecary’s marketplace, good old down home alcohol might still be the worst of the lot. Behind the wheel they’re all pretty much the same - driving - under the influence, while intoxicated, blitzed, blown away, knee walking drunk. Uh oh- DUI, DWL Drink, drive, party, have fun, live big, get busted, get arrested, but get a little unlucky, get disfigured, die, or worse - live in a vegetative coma for life. The thrill of the gamble, the hype of the crap shoot. Most everyone smiles, says here’s how, chugs it down, turns the cards and throws the dice. When it happens, when it’s too late, when the blood to your brain screams huge, deadly, and meaningless, what do you do with that?         Pre-death about two months is where my head wants to keep going back to. I want to do it over. I want us all to have another chance. Death puts time in a whole different place. Come on, God, we didn't mean it. Our little group was good kids. Let us start over. Back to two months before their death-certificates were issued? It seems like two or five years already passed, and at the same time a second ago.         Four of us were all heading home on the same day in June. How do I know we, a foursome of that old gang of ours, were heading home on the same day and actually at the same time? Because I talked to Lorraine and Vern on the phone just before I left. They were ready to leave right then also. Vern told me he’d talked to Sherry on the phone just minutes before. Vern gave me the scoop on her.        We all left from different places after final exams at the end of our junior year of college. I, Les, left from the University of Northern Iowa in Cedar Falls.Lorraine, my girl friend, from COE College in Cedar Rapids. Vern, my best friend or not, depending on the state of his drinking and drugging, from Iowa State University in Ames. Sherry, Vern’s girl friend or not or maybe or sort of - that’s a hard one to understand or explain sometime, from the University of Iowa in Iowa City.        We basically all saw the same thing on the way home to Floyd. On all sides, stretching to the limits of sight, were endless green fields of well established young corn and soybeans obviously reveling in the June summer heat and humidity. Townships of a certain number of square miles of farm land centered by small towns were laid out regularly along the way,and sections of land within the townships were allotted to farms of various sizes and prosperity represented by their farm houses and farm buildings visible regularly as well. Of course, there were some rivers, creeks, sand pits, trees, a few lakes, and a want-to-be-hill here and there, but basically it was flat, it was green, and it was farm land.        The land and the vista are relatively easy to portray.But what about the people involved, what about the human drama, what about us as human beings? What about we four home bound travelers on that particular day? A little more difficult, but in general terms not so much so. What were we thinking? We've been together since kindergarten and after this summer the seedpod would burst and we’d ride the updrafts and eddies to where? By about the day we were leaving, I had begun a self assumed role as gang historian. I had just began some rudimentary documentation relative to some things about the old gang. I had the small idea or minor conceit that I’d write a sketch or maybe even a novella. Maybe in five years or so, I’d pass it out to the members of the old gang. I specifically asked them what they were thinking that day. I called both Lorraine and Vern on the phone just before I left. They were ready to leave about then, too. I had called Sherry on the phone a half hour before I spoke to them and she’d already left.        So anyway, what were we thinking? What was on our minds in the most simple and general way that June day? Let me review my notes. Let’s start with yours truly, me, Les. Les looked forward to seeing his folks, and later, Lorraine. Sex, his future life's work, and his future with Lorraine were on his mind. In that order. He was excited to see his younger brother, Denny, his little sister, Ali,and their Rat Terrier dog, Tippy. He felt good, he was at peace, and he was excited. He’d see his buddies tomorrow.

       Lorraine looked forward to seeing her folks, her younger sister, and later, Les. Her future with Les,her life’s work, and sex were on her mind. In that order. She was excited, she was at peace, and she felt good. She’d see her girl friends tomorrow. We tended to think similarly, but certainly with differences in priorities. 

      Vern looked forward to getting out of the house and seeing the guys. He was not overly looking forward to seeing his parents and his older brother, Merton.Getting drunk and getting high were on his mind.Later he’d probably hang out with Sherry. He was restless, discontent, and anxious. He didn't want to miss anything that was going on out in the bars. He was extremely uncomfortable with his sex situation.

      Sherry looked forward to seeing her parents, her younger brother, and later, Vern. She was worried about Vern’s drinking and using. She was pretty sure she really did still want to go into nursing for a career.She was frustrated about her weirdly limited sexual situation. She loved Vern, but he could drive her insane. Most of the time, in most ways, he was a great guy to her. She suspected she might see some of the girls earlier in the evening, because she assumed Vern would end up with the guys earlier. She expected she’d see Vern later. She expected she could also see some of her girl friends tomorrow. She was unsure,she was hopeful, and she was confused.

       Well, that’s the prelims. I’ll tell you the rest with the story. I can’t help thinking this. Now I know that if and when I finish the story,whatever it is I write, I’ll have to deliver at least two of them by burying them in a grave. I would have never thought of this before, but I have the feeling now that maybe I should hurry up with this a little bit.I don’t want to dig into any more graves than I have to.

       There’s one more situation that’s kind of a mess. I can’t tell the story without getting into Hattie, Gertie,and Uncle Forrest. How exactly to tell about them is almost beyond me. So I guess that’s where I’ll start and get it over with. Of course there’s the town too.The town with its own smell. Also two stoplights and a 1903 four story red brick Carnegie Library.

Chapter 1- Hattie and Gertie  The air hung hot and heavy this day in the town of Floyd. There was no breath on the face of the earth to move the leaves of the giant Maples, which had long ago replaced the diseased Dutch Elms,which formed arches of branch and leaves over many of the streets. Two townspeople, Hattie Broom bein gone, had lived in Floyd from the day of the town's founding.       They sat on a porch swing reminiscing, swinging vigorously, two ladies past one hundred, fanning themselves with their Sunday church bulletins. Two of the oldest ladies in the United States, certainly the oldest in their own state, looking and chatting like they were youngsters of seventy five or fifty. They’d each known each other for about a hundred years.They’d been part of an extraordinarily rare vegetarian religious sect in their earliest childhood.They were each liberal and conservative, depending on the issues being contemplated. They shared one perhaps somewhat unusual special aspect for their age that enlivened their relationship substantially and amused them when all else failed. They still occasionally desired that particular comfort which only the male of the species is legitimately equipped to provide, without that is, resorting to manufactured copies or gross subterfuge. Their amusement stemmed as much from the knowledge that they had surprised some of their dwindling supply of long lived male friends, as it did from the fact that here and there a septuagenarian,and octogenarian, and a few even older genarians apparently found them as attractive now in that respect as had the boys of their high school and college days. To talk about how they dated boys twenty to forty years younger than they almost always strangled them with laughter. Gertie even had designs on someone in her A.A. group that was only a little more than half her age.        Hattie bad buried her first and second husband here,and eight of her thirteen children - matched grey granite stones lined up in a row, joining some of the family who’d gone before, with space bought and reserved for others yet to come. Gertie had followed suit but with only one husband and just four sons, all dead and buried. Gertie’s family, however, did their burying in the Catholic cemetery rather than the Protestant.       They talked of the waxing and waning of the town,of the principles, values, and standards of behavior prevalent there through time, as they swung to the heavy scents of lilacs on the porch trellis and soybeans roasting and wafting at the processing mill next to the grain elevators.        They talked of the grand celebration of the last spike, which they had seen driven before civilization flourished. When even Indians were scarce, where the Chicago and Northwestern and the Sioux City and St. Paul tracks marked a cross in the tall waving grass of the Iowa prairie. They’d met in their extreme youth, where the cross was planted, at the birthing of their town.        They knew a little of the two hundred year history before the railroads came. Endless waving grass, high as a man, high as a horse. Between periods of peace,some occasional Sioux Indians engaging the Sac or Fox in bloody battle in places where their lands adjoined. Lush grasses laced with clear flowing streams and rivers. Spirits and ghosts known only to America's Indians ruled the waters of the biggest lakes, East and West Okoboji, Big and Little Spirit. Medicine men's cures and shaman’s prayers issued forth from one hundred fifty foot deep springs beneath West Okoboji’s crystal clear sacred waters. The Indians massacred some of the settlers as the settlers drove them relentlessly from their lands, but the western tide of settlement inevitably followed the explorers,the trappers and traders, the wagon trains, and the railroads, and the dead from both sides now lived in the burial grounds, while the Indians were relegated to appointed tracts of land.         In time their talk turned, as it seemed long talks always did lately, to two young men of the town. Les Mellancamp and Vern Schonhauzer. “I’m anxious to see them, Gertie,” Hattie declared. “More and more I see those two boys as metaphors for our future.More than that, as being our future.”         “Why I don’t really believe either of them will even stay here, ” Gertie responded guardedly, feeling somewhat irked and challenged by Hattie's metaphysical forays. “After all, you know darn well that few of the young ones stay in these small towns any more these days. Haven’t for ages, for goodness sakes. ”Who gave a damn anymore anyway? she thought,feeling a random mood change tingling in her somewhere. Hattie knew as well as she did that everybody went their own direction based on some formula implanted by some ancient quark or gene or something anyway. Things just progressed kind of like they were going to. What were they going to do, put lead in their pockets or something? “Let them go! Let them see the world and experience life,for goodness sakes!”         “No, no! I don’t mean here in Floyd. I mean anywhere,” Hattie said. “Sioux City, Sioux Falls, Minneapolis, Chicago. New York or Los Angeles for heaven’s sake! London or Paris, I don’t care where- anywhere. These boys somehow grew up knowing things - with a certain advanced knowledge of life’s significant polarity. Each in their own way of course. It even appears obvious that their common search is taking them in opposite directions. They are us,Gertie. They are you and L And then there’s that added layer that they can reach for. Because we worked for a hundred years to provide them a toe hold a little beyond what most any of us can reach unaided.That’s the excitement and exhilaration of the whole thing. That’s what makes me so hopeful and worried when I watch them. I see us. Walking into a future these two bodies will never see. Wondering what they are going to do for us.”        Gertie locked her jaw and looked straight ahead.She wasn't going to be brought into another emotion laden philosophical Sunday discussion. That was Hattie’s great joy. Discussing people’s and the world's issues grinning and gesturing wildly having the time of her life. But for Gertie it was serious taking on other people’s and the world’s business. It was weighty, it was emotion draining, it was invasion of privacy.Other people should be allowed to handle their own affairs. No sir. Not today. She wasn't going to say a word.       Hattie waited. She wondered how long Gertie could hold out. She saw the set jaw and the flat stare. You’d think after a hundred years she could loosen up and just have an easy chat with some juicy gossip and speculation without having to get all worked up first. “What in heaven's name are they going to do with it?” Hattie finally sighed under the last trimester pregnant weight of it all. That and the thought of preparing dinner for four of the remaining eight of her thirteen children and their families was getting her worked up into an awfully energetic mood. She’d put twelve at the big table and eight at the two card tables. Thank God these days most everything could come from the deep freeze or a box,other than the fresh roast for those that ate meat, and fresh bakery rolls.       Gertie just looked at her and shook her head, some up and down and some back and forth. Then gave a heck of a shove to get the swing creaking again. “That’s just like you, Hattie, to say that those two boys are us. Yes, I know, sex does not always define gender affiliations, and gender does not always define polar sensibilities. So what? So! what!?” she exhaled heavily. Yes, of course, she felt these things, she sensed them, but the answers didn't come out engulfed in stone like Hattie sometimes put on. It was more like magic and sorcery, a vegetables in the broth kind of thing. That’s where the soup came from.        The swinging and fanning with the church bulletins produced the only breeze there was. Their surroundings spoke to them. It came into their consciousness and they looked around.There were walkway borders of roses, tulips,gladiolus, mums, and daffodils cutting through green lawns along sidewalks going to houses up and down the block. Gertie was feeling more than a touch cranky and argumentative for no good reason she could think of other than she was talking with Hattie about life.        But so what, she had a right to feel what she felt and what she felt was as real as any thing else out there she could think of. She pulled out a Lucky Strike straight, her deceased husband’s brand, flared it up grandly with her husband’s old Zippo, held the cigarette in her hand just right and blew out four or five perfect smoke rings that expanded above the swing. She’d started smoking a cigarette or two a week, without inhaling,after her husband passed away at the age of eighty one. Reminded her of him. The richness of the blended tobacco smell. Made her feel like he was there somehow.        Finally Gertie had held in her point of view much longer than she was ordinarily accustomed to. For no good reason that she could think of either, other than people leaving, people moving on, people dying, what was going to happen next, and all of that old boring crap. Making her feel somewhat morose and subdued.      Poking Hattie in the shoulder a number of times with her finger, she let it happen. She let fly. “Who gives a good film-flam,"she exploded trying to grab back her energy balance.She had wanted to say God-damn so bad she could hardly contain herself. "Les and Vern, Les and Vern,Les and Vern. Who gives a good ding-dong?” This time it was rat’s-ass that wanted to flow out of her mouth as natural as breathing.“Who gives a piss-ant!” She barely evaded the use of flying- fuck. She became more incensed as she worked on it. “They’re going to do the same damn thing as the rest of us.” Gertie had a compulsive urge to utter outrageously colorful profanity to punctuate her speech as she had done most of her life, but she had been trying for about forty years to moderate her language, and today she had been unusually successful        “They’re going to grow up,” Gertie continued.“They’re going to work, they’re going to play, they're going to wrestle in the back of cars, they’re going to marry and have children. They’re going to know death and heartbreak. Triumphs and defeats. Joys and sorrows.” She raised her hand,“No you don’t. Not this time. You let me finish.” Gertie was traveling through a century plus of living. The visions ebbed and flowed of experiences of youth, middle age, old age -gone in a few breathes and glances - evaporated with her’s and Hattie’s continuing on past the normal allotment, watching as their contemporaries, and those much younger, including their children, lay down their loads to join the ages. Feeling subdued and speaking quietly now, “They’re going to do exactly what the other one hundred kids from the little towns around here that graduated with them year before last are going to do. Some few of them might become rich and famous, a few will experience utter degradation,and the majority will be good solid middle America citizens trying to do their best. Some of the more interesting and enterprising members of the club will distinguish themselves substantially and repeatedly in all of the available multifarious activities- good and bad. I’d personally opt for middle America. I don't think either of the extremes is worth the price or the bother. But who am I to talk.        "Above that, every last one of them, whether they look like they’re going up or going down or standing still, are going to be part of the endless cycle of energy and matter, like the rest of us. We were here as some form of energy or matter since time immemorial, and we will be through eternity. The Higher Power and Nature don’t make no exceptions about some things."There, she had had her good long say, and she was at peace again. She hadn't been in A.A. for fifty four years without learning some damn few good things about something.       "Well, be that as it may,” said Hattie brightly,feeling expansive and agreeable about the whole issue now that Gertie had finally played her role and talked, and being used to their spirited and interesting exchanges, “I have to fix dinner. But things are moving gradually to higher planes of consciousness and understanding and Vern and Les are going to play their part in that. They and Paramahanza Yogananda.” She and Gertie had both read a number of Paramahanza’s books and, surprisingly, were quite captivated by their seeming reasonableness and inclusiveness. Who’d of thought that a Hindu Yoga from India would want to join forces with Christians, Muslems, and Jews?        “Okay Hattie, gotta go,” Gertie said abruptly jumping up. Forrest’s coming over for lunch. We’ll talk again next Sunday.“        "You betcha, Gertie. I love you. Don’t you think you’re robbing the cradle just a little?”       “I love you, Hattie,” Gertie replied as she strolled down the walkway like someone thirty years, or fifty years, or eighty years younger, two stepping and shaking her behind a little. “That is certainly none of your business.”       They looked at each other again and waived in unison as they always did, choreographed thought the same as a dance. They’d thought it a thousand times. We've defied all of the odds for nearly everything in so many ways and we’re still going strong. But that's the way life is sometimes. Their genes and fate’s chance bad kept their juices flowing to a degree that made them renowned in the Midwest, as well as in certain health research circles around the world. Their own readings about health and longevity had acquainted them with certain peoples, like the Hunzasin Pakistan and the Tarahumara Indians of South America who played fast games of stick ball, or ran ultra marathon distances, into their seventies and eighties and beyond, so they were not overly impressed with themselves. It just happened.Anyway, in Methuselah’s time, apparently it had been more than commonplace. Now that a lady or two in England or Italy or someplace had had babies through invitro fertilization up into their sixties, Hattie occasionally thought she’d really like to set the record straight with a record that would hold for a good long time, but she wasn't quite sure that her juices were flowing that well. But, if she could make thirteen, why couldn't she go for one more?

 Chapter 2 - Les and Lorraine

      Les and Lorraine were sitting in the back seat of his car on a narrow dirt road south of town. They were comfortable, they were silent, they were thinking.Other than this being their first night home from college for the summer, there was nothing obviously special about this night; the scene about them was what they were accustomed to. It was hard to tell where soft black night air ended and rich black soil began. Sprinkles of light hugged the ground off in the distance where the town was. Two red lights blinked slowly, above opposite sides of the town,marking the tops of the water tower and grain elevator.       He could hear the silence of the thick black night air sounding like moist breath against his neck. He stopped breathing to sharpen his concentration. He stretched his hearing toward the field of corn off to their right listening for snap crackles of growing corn that old timers said you could hear on hot thick nights..       A feeling passed spark like between them causing them to shiver in the warmth. Turning to one another they interlocked fingers chest to chest and lovingly acknowledged all that existed between them. “I’m yours, to have, to hold and to do with as you wish,” Les said. “I promise on all that’s sacred between us that I’ll never leave you and I’ll never forsake you.”       She smiled in acknowledgment and her eyes glistened with tears. “As our bodies become one, our minds become one, our souls become one, our hearts become one. Two bodies, one being. We are one. As I've known before, I know now - we are to be together for ever.” Her knowledge about their commitment was absolute.      Tears traced his cheeks now. “As our bodies become one, our minds become one, our souls become one, our beings become one. Two bodies,one being. We are one. I've known you before this life, I know you well and deeply now, I’ll know you after this life. We are to be together forever.” His knowledge also about their commitment, was absolute.. They’d each never known anyone else.       Lips touched gently, beginning a practiced and comfortable ritual of highly personalized eroticism.He looked at her, thought of her, breathed her natural fragrance, tasted her, listened to her voice, and felt the subtle pressures of her touch with a sense near adoration and awe. She felt similarly. Theirs was a true near perfect physical and emotional union.       Midway in their passion they withdrew from each other and began another intimate exchange in their series of extraordinarily sexy naked conversations.

[dondrdv]

1 of 7B, The Summer Of Final Judgement

Beginning to Page 21B, The Summer of Final Judgment "How deep are you, Lorraine? I can't feel the end,"he whispered breathily while exploring her with hisfingers. "About as deep as you are long, Les," she answeredhusky and wavering as she handled him. "I love every part of your body, especially your nipples," he said taking one between each thumb and forefinger and jiggling her breasts. "Thank you," she said, “and I love every part of your body, too. Especially these cute little buns." She attempted to tweak both of them at tile same time and fell over on top of him in her exuberance. They twisted and turned, wrestling madly through laughter and giggles before the seriousness returned. Her hips moved without her willing them to do so. Small moans and squeals emanated from places far beyond human consciousness. The imperious urge thrilled and frightened him, threatening to suck him dry. He desired to simultaneously adore her and plunder her with rapture. Afterwards they gently cleansed each other with damp wash clothes and towels brought along for the occasion. Finally, they locked the remaining contraceptives in the glove compartment. Sitting there without clothes, windows open, the starry night caressed them once again. "I'm sad for people trying to have what we have physically who have to worry about disease and illness," Lorraine said quietly. “And I am too,” Les said simply. “It’s an immense tragedy. And It’s not only illness, its death." "I think I could love you the same without thephysical part," Lorraine said, "But I wouldn't wantto." “All the pieces seem to fit together, don’t they?” "Funny, funny," Lorraine laughed. Les said, "No pun intended." "I'm glad we’re so comfortable together sexually,"Les said. "I'm glad too," Lorraine said. "Remember four or five years ago when some of the things we love to do with our body parts now seemed so disgusting and perverted? How can it go from ughhh to mmmmmmso fast?" She licked her lips lasciviously and gavehim a series of flirtatious eye brow raises. He covered his eyes and sounded off at her, "Hey,don't start that again, I'm too comfortable andrelaxed. Besides, I'm drained and limp as a wet noodle." "Me too - just kidding." They both laughed softly. "Your right," he said. "We really must be growingup. Sometimes it seems like its happening so fast- too fast." "Not to change the subject,” she said, "But have you seen or heard from Vern?" "No, no see, no call, no nothing. I'm amazed that he or one of the guys haven't been out here to see us tonight." A strong beam of light drew circles off in the distance as the train moved out of the darkness towards the town. The plaintive wailingwhistle grew and saluted the small town in passing asthe great wheels clickity-clacked and the steel railshummed their Chicago bound refrain. The recedingwhistle tailed off again in warning as the train picked up speed and approached the grade heading up to thecounty line blacktop road. "Lorraine, come here and look at this," Les said while gesturing to her to come over to his side of the car. They positioned themselves and leaned backtogether to get their heads out of the window andlooked up. There appeared an inverted black velvetbowl with a million pin pricks of Bight attached.Drifting odors of hay and sweet clover rode thewarm night air flowing in tune with cricket chirps inthe ditch beside the road. Scores of fireflies joined inglowing pulsing jumping passing nonrandom - lifelights emphasizing and accentuating some patternbeyond orchestration. Distant dog barks, the faint mooing of a cow and remnants ofa woman's voice came from the Ralston farm about ahalf mile down the road, bumping up against soulfulfeelings and comforted flesh. Their spirits soared felt like their bodies in the midstof love a bundle of swelled up happy nerves waiting to burst. A profoundpositive restlessness crackled De Vries 15 The Summer of Final Judgment around them an energy buildup making small hairson arms and neck stand out in anticipation. "I'm going to do something very soon, but I don'tknow what it is," he said very slowly and exceedingly softly, looking closely ather. The sound of his voice and the words that he spokemade her involuntarily startle and jump with a shiver."I can't believe you said that. I can't believe you saidthat. I can't believe yon said that!" She was lookinginside for her feelings and a sense of understandingof what she felt. Something had bounded out beyondher conscious understanding, resting betweenpalpably black air and moist black earth. She lookedaway from him, feeling eerie.. He took her arm and turned her back to him. Youwere thinking the same thing, weren't you?" She answered coyly, "Yes." But was she? Whatwere these feelings that brought the catch to her breath and the flutter to her heart beat? "I knew it," be responded. “I was thinking the same thing,” she said. Shethought that was exactly what had happened. Sheheard the thought before she beard the words. "I'mgoing to do something very soon, but I don't knowwhat it is.." They bear-hugged, squeezing unmercifully,compressing muscle and bone, grinning at one another like crazypeople. "We'll do it together," heoffered. "That's what I was thinking," she replied. "We really do think too much alike some times," hesaid, "it's scary." "I know, I'd think nearly anything for you.Fortunately, I don't have to, I think the same way you do too much of the timeanyway." "Me too, I'd think nearly anything for you. Oh oh, look at that." De Vries 16 The Summer of Final Judgment A pair of headlights had flashed through the carstartling them as a car turned off the gravel roadbehind them and started to come their way. Lorraineslipped into her bra quickly as they both began dressing. "Just who do you think that is?" Les asked with agood deal of sarcasm. "It does look like a convertible, " Lorraine answered, "At least he's considerate enough to allow us plenty oftime alone before showing up. You're sitting on myblouse." Les pushed himself up off the seat andhanded her the blouse. The headlights approached slowly. Vern's silverblue 1958 Chevy lmpala convertible pulled up besidethem and stopped. It was the exact same model hisfather had driven thirty six years before, fullyrestored to its original condition. Les' situation wasexactly the same for his buckskin tan 1955 Ford.Their fathers had been best friends in high school, and, those werethe ears they had driven, bought new off the showroom floor in their day. "Hey Mellancamp," Vern yelled, "why you folks hustling around so in there? You don't have to get dressed on our account. We'refamily." "You ever hear the word privacy or intrusion,Schonhauzer?"Les asked. Vern hoisted a beer to his lips, drained the can andtossed it back over his head onto the road.Huckleberry was sitting in the front seat with Vern,looking kind of comatose. Wildchild was sittingcrosswise in the back seat by himself, grinninglopsidedly like a loon. A case of beer sat beside himwith one six pack remaining. "You crazy fools are a big pain in the neck," Lesyelled, "What you guys up to anyway?" "Awwww, we just been hoisting a few brews," Vernsaid. "We just saw your brother Denny driving your folk'scar,'' Wildchild said through an exaggerated yawn. De Vries 17 The Summer of Final Judgment Vern got out of his car, went over and took a leak in the ditch, then shook it a few times before he walkedback and leaned down to look in the window.".Lorraine, hey, how ya doin!" he said. He popped thetop on a can of Bud he was holding. The canwhooooosbed and the odor of fermented hops filledthe car. Vern tipped the can back and sucked half of it out in one long pull. "Once in a while it does my heart good to know youtwo got red blood that flows like the rest of us," Vernsaid. "I just got to see for myself occasionally. I hopeyou'll excuse my intrusion. I apologize. I waited fortwo and one half hours for Lord's sake." "Hi Vern, thanks for the sweet apology, we accept,"Lorraine said, "When did you get home?" "This afternoon," Vern answered. "Been so busy since this is the first I've been able to get out drinking." "Have you seen Sherry yet?” Lorraine asked. "Sure did, "Vern answered. "This afternoon. We'regoing to a movie tomorrow night, True Romance, want to go?" "I don't know about that, but I'm glad to hear you'regoing to a movie," Lorraine said pointedly. "Once ina while does my heart good to see you do somethingbesides drinking. I was starting to think all you have running in those veins of yours is Budweiser, nevermind red blood!" Les shot the bull with the guys for a while, thenstood out in the middle of the road watching Vern's tail lights move off in the distance past the Ralston farm. "Why does he continually drink so heavily, Les?"Lorraine asked after they'd left. "He has mosteverything a person could ask for. I really like himwhen he's sober." De Vries 18 The Summer of Final Judgment “I don’t know,” Les replied honestly. "You said behas almost everything maybe he drinks for the piece that's still missing. We've been friends sincewe were five and there are some things about him Istill can't figure. But I think he's hunting for something that you and I have alreadyfound." The moon was out full now and the black night hadbecome luminescent. The night had become brightenough to cast shadows and the feeling of thingslurking. Les started the car, put it in gear and as itstarted moving he saw it. He caught sight obliquely ofwhat it was that was building the nervous energy andtension within him that was compelling him to take some kind ofaction soon to do something. He'd been glimpsing it for a half year or more. "I think I know what it is," Les said. "Know what what is," Lorraine responded. "What it is I have to do. See how this sounds. It hasto do with the major world religions And worldpeace. If the major world religions can't worktogether peacefully, .how could there ever be apossibility of world peace? What do you think?"Gertie and Hattie had introduced him toParamahanza Yogananda, where he had picked up onthe specific idea. "I think it sounds right and accurate," Lorraine said."But it sounds like such a case of overreaching. I’m with you in principle, butwhere does one start on such a mission? Where didthis come from!" "My Uncle Forrest is leaving me all of these wildpoems, Hattie's giving me all of these exotic books, and Gertie’s talking to me about some very unusual but fundamental philosophies. The bizarre part is thatthey're all starting to fit together and make sense tome, which is kind of scary. Some of its starting to fitwith the two courses in Eastern and Westernphilosophy I've taken, and some with the two courses in world religion. The good part is that it'svalidating ideas and philosophies that I've been formulating on my own. But I'm veryserious about what it is that I think I have to start working on. Are you really with me in exploringsomething like this?" Lorraine shook her head yes at him. "Could wethink about this carefully and see what we truly thinkis the best way to approach it?" she finally said. "CanI see some of these poems from your Uncle Forrestand the books from Hattie!" "Of course," Les said., "I'll get the books and thepoems for you. Here's one short poem from Uncle Forrest that Iremember: ' I'm not a Christian I'm not a Jew I’m not a Moslem I’m not a Hindu I'm a nondenominational believer And a child of God ' Lorraine rolled her eyes a little and asked anotherquestion. "And what kind of books has Hattie been givingyou?" "She's given me a number of books," Les replied."There have been three or four on psychic, spiritual, orprayer and faith based healing. One of these was by arenowned M.D. There have been a few on differentspiritual or meditational theories or techniques. Andone that's really caught my attention is by a Yoga fromIndia by the name of Paramahanza Yogananda. Thebook is called Man's Eternal Quest.The primaryelement of his philosophy and mission in life wasrespect for, and bringing together, all of the worlds'major religions - Christian, Jewish, Moslem, and Hindu in the belief that when they could all getalong, there could possibly be world peace. "Very interesting," Lorraine observed. "And whatabout Gertie? Isn't she a little loosely wrapped for such grand metaphysicalpursuits?" "Some of the things she says seem to makesurprisingly good sense to me. For instance, shebelieves that since the best minds of science haveproven that energy is never added to or deleted from,but just changes forms, and since all life including human life is certainly an energy form, that we have all been around in different forms of energy or matter since the beginning of timeand will be through eternity. Simple, elegant, andpractically irrefutable as ze professors say. That ladyis not a total dummy in my book. I really like her." Lorraine closed her eyes and thought carefullybefore going on. ''I'm very serious too, Les," Lorraine said, "about feeling a needto do something very soon with my life, in terms of my life's work. I feel astrong pull towards a life of service, but I don't yetknow what direction that call will take. I do want tobe with you in this thing. I’ll make you a deal. Let'sconsider what we’re feeling through the summerbefore we make up our minds what direction to take.What you’re drawn to might be the right thing forboth of us. Let’s keep an open mind. It has an attractiveness to me, but I’m perhaps inclined to take adifferent approach than you might. I’d probably want to make friends with someChristians, some Jews, some Moslems, and someHindus individually first, and then see if we could allget along together as friends. This would be thepractical test for me. But again, I suggest we thinkabout it during the summer and see where it takes us.Deal? Anyway, we'd probably have to go to NewYork or Los Angeles or some place like that just tofind the right kinds of people to become friends with." "Deal! I'm the macro and you’re the micro. That'swhy we provide such good balance for each other.Like the yin and the yang. We're a perfect fit. Andbelieve me, I love my yin and your yang. Or is it theother way around? And I certainly don't mean primarily physical attributes and sexeither, although you have everything I couldpossibly want in those areas too. I agree with you by the way. I think. I think I could love you as muchwithout the physical part too, but who'd want to?" She just stared at him with her "HUH?" look. He got so rambly out there some times, it was trying just trying to keep up with it. Okay Les, we'll see what the summer brings. Then we'll make our final judgment." She just wanted him to come down for an earth landing sometimes. "We were responsible you know, Les, we dated and got to know each other for two years before we had sex. And don't forget, we are human, we've come close to breaking up twice." He grinned at her big as he could. Appreciating everything about her. Life continued to be an adventure that for the most part exhilarated him to no end. He was aware that he got a little giddy, and went overboard somewhat with the things he got excited about. But why shouldn't he? It was so FUN. And anyway, he rarely got overzealous in this fun kind of way over things he wasn't totally serious about too.