This series is a little bit biographical and a little
bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when
he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into
Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and
fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always
wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG
JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to the right, scroll down to and click
OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The FIRST entry is on the bottom of the
last page.
Tommy Hastings was still
staring at Freddie Merrill as the other boy nodded, not looking up from the
place where Nils Wangenstein struggled to breathe. He was kneeling as Freddie
patted his back then lifted the other boy’s arm, put it over his shoulders and
stood. The two of them walked slowly past Tommy. He watched as they went into
the cabin then followed after them.
Nil’s mom was on the phone.
She said abruptly, “If you wait ‘til morning, they’ll be gone.” She listened,
made a disgusted face then said, “Keeping your back side safe’s always what you
were good at, Walter.” She hung the phone up hard, muttering, “That’ll give the
gossips something to do tomorrow.” She looked over at the boys, “Go to bed.
Walter’ll be out to pick you boys up at daybreak, so you’d best be ready to
go.” She stomped across the kitchen, into another room and slammed the door.
Nils said, “Walter always
makes her crazy.”
Tommy and Freddie nodded.
Freddie said, “My dad drives me mom crazy, too.” The boys drifted into the bed
room and when Nils turned out the light, dropped into the bed. All three of
them were snoring a few minutes later.
They were woken up by
pounding on the door. “Let’s go, boys! Breakfast in five minutes, then
Walter’ll be here at five thirty!”
Somehow, they’d ended up in a
heap, tangled arms, legs, and torsos. Rolling out of bed, they each ran to the
bathroom, used it, and ran out. Sixty seconds later, they were in the kitchen.
Three plates stacked with flapjacks, bacon, and sausages steamed on the table.
“Eat fast, ‘cause when Walter gets here, you’ll be flying out like bats outta
you know where.”
By the time they were done
stuffing their faces, a sheriff’s squad car had pulled up. A large, red-faced
man rolled out. Looking up at the brightening sky, shading the sun, he shouted,
“Let’s go! Day’s gettin’ on!”
The boys scrambled to their
feet, but Nils’ mother waved them down. “I’ll take care of our sheriff.” Wiping
on her apron, she headed out the door. Tommy and Freddie stared. Nils grabbed
the shoulders of their shirts and pulled them to their feet and backward to the
room. When they were there, he said, “Get your stuff packed and get going.”
“What?” said Freddie.
“Mom and Walter’s gonna talk
forever. If you don’t get on the road early, them crazies from Duluth is gonna
catch you.” The boys nodded. “Just keep the clothes. Ma won’t mind. I got too
much stuff anyway.” He looked at Freddie, nodded, then slugged Tommy in the
shoulder. “Get goin’.”
Tommy started out the door.
Freddie stayed a minute longer, slugged Nils in the shoulder then said, “Who
knows. Maybe I’ll come back up next summer.”
Nils nodded, then said, “Hurry
up. I’ll tell Ma you left. She’ll be OK with that.” He walked out of the room.
Freddie said, “Too bad he
doesn’t living in the city.”
“He’d have been one of us.”
“Yep,” said Freddie. “Let’s
go before the Communists wake up.”
“They’re Socialists.”
“Same thing,” said Freddie.
The boys walked through the house. “She cooks good, too.”
“Better than my sister,” said
Tommy.
Freddie laughed and said, “That’s
not hard to do.” Tommy slugged him, feeling better. They slipped out the back
door. “Which way do you suppose the road is?”
Tommy stopped. Freddie
stopped beside him. The sun was up, slanting through a grove of widely spaced
pine trees from their left. “That’s east,” Tommy said.
“Duh.”
“So we go straight, keeping
the sun on our left.” He started walking. Soon they reached a blacktop road
going east-west. He turned and they walked into the sun until they reach a
wider blacktop.
Freddie shaded his eyes,
looked left, then right, “Sign says it’s fifty-six.” There were no cars. “Middle
of the week, ain’t gonna be no one going nowhere.
“Sounds right.” He started
walking. “We wait until someone that don’t speak Finnish stops to give us a
ride.”
“Right.” They’d walked a mile
or so when Freddie added, “Sorta gonna miss Nils.”
They kept walking on the
silent road as the summer sun climbed slowly into the sky.
Image: http://pascosheriff.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/HISTOR1.gif
No comments:
Post a Comment