she came back
into the living room, she handed me the beer managing to let her hand linger a
long moment over mine. I grabbed the drink and turned away to open it.
"I scare you,
don't I, Eddie?" she asked.
"No, of course
not, Pam."
"Yes, I do. It's
all right. Gary will be home soon so I won't attack you again. Besides I think
I'd rather have you as a friend more than anything else." She walked over
to the bar and poured herself a healthy shot of gin.
"Where's that
hippie cousin of mine," Gary boomed as he came in the back door through the
garage.
"Right here, and
what do you mean, hippie?" I pretended to be offended.
" I hear that's
what Uncle Stanley's been calling you since you bought the van. Except I think
he uses a couple of expletives along with hippie," Gary said as he hugged
me. "Besides, your hair is too short to be a hippie."
"Actually, I do
feel like something of a vagabond this summer. When I pass this way in late
August, my hair may be a little longer, especially on my face. I don't plan on
shaving for two months. Now, that's real freedom."
"Pam, you didn't
tell him?" Gary asked his wife.
"No, he just got
here. Besides it's your wonderful news, now isn't it, dear ," Pam said.
She finished her drink in one long gulp before getting up and going for another
one.
"What
news?" I asked.
"I've been
transferred. We won't be here in August unless we can't find a place to live on
Long Island. Even at that, Pam would stay here, but I'll be gone."
"Long
Island?"
"Actually I'll
be working in the Manhattan headquarters of Weston Advertising, but Long Island
is the best place to live. I'll commute, like here. It's a good promotion,
Ed."
"Yes, a good
promotion, Ed, with me and the other wives stuck out in the boondocks while the
hubbys get to play with the big boys and girls," Pam said from behind the
bar. "Need a drink, Gar?"
"Sure thing,
Hon. Pam's not that excited about the move, but I think she'll adjust. Imagine,
New York City." Gary grinned like a little boy.
"Congratulations,
Gary. Next summer maybe I'll get a cheap place in the Village. I almost did
this year, except I've always wanted to see the West." I didn't know what
to say to Pam who abruptly left the two of us alone as she made her way very
carefully into the kitchen.
"What happened
with you and Allison?" Gary asked when we were alone.
"It's hard to
say. I thought we would be together forever. We dated for six years and barely
stayed married a year." I shook my head at the absurdity of it all.
"Marriage
changes things, I guess," Gary said.
"I don't think
I'm meant for marriage. Even though I'm sad about the divorce, I like the
freedom that's suddenly come my way. Besides, now I'm the black sheep of the
family, while you've become the paragon of middle-class life. Your parents are
probably thrilled, and mine, at least my mom, are in mourning."
"Thanks, Cuz.
I've finally got Philip off my back. And if Pam isn't too happy right now, I
think that will change in New York."
I stayed the weekend
in Evanston. The undercurrents between Pam and Gary seemed worse than between
Allison and me for some reason. Allison and I, even during our worst moments,
managed to remain civil. Pam seemed to be a hostile captive in her perfect home
in the suburbs. She barely spoke to Gary, and when she did, her voice dripped
with heavy sarcasm, and worse, Gary seemed to ignore her most of the time.
As I left them
standing in the driveway waving me away on my adventure, I wondered if the
marriage would survive the move to New York.
I ended up in San
Francisco during the summer of 1967 and watched the whirlwinds of change occur
within this city on the Bay. I didn't participate, but I became a great watcher
of people as I traveled from Berkeley and Telegraph Avenue to the other side of
the water where the lost souls of teenagedom had converged in Haight-Ashbury
during the media-hyped summer of love.
I began my trek back
home, wiser and sadder about the future of our
into the living room, she handed me the beer managing to let her hand linger a
long moment over mine. I grabbed the drink and turned away to open it.
"I scare you,
don't I, Eddie?" she asked.
"No, of course
not, Pam."
"Yes, I do. It's
all right. Gary will be home soon so I won't attack you again. Besides I think
I'd rather have you as a friend more than anything else." She walked over
to the bar and poured herself a healthy shot of gin.
"Where's that
hippie cousin of mine," Gary boomed as he came in the back door through the
garage.
"Right here, and
what do you mean, hippie?" I pretended to be offended.
" I hear that's
what Uncle Stanley's been calling you since you bought the van. Except I think
he uses a couple of expletives along with hippie," Gary said as he hugged
me. "Besides, your hair is too short to be a hippie."
"Actually, I do
feel like something of a vagabond this summer. When I pass this way in late
August, my hair may be a little longer, especially on my face. I don't plan on
shaving for two months. Now, that's real freedom."
"Pam, you didn't
tell him?" Gary asked his wife.
"No, he just got
here. Besides it's your wonderful news, now isn't it, dear ," Pam said.
She finished her drink in one long gulp before getting up and going for another
one.
"What
news?" I asked.
"I've been
transferred. We won't be here in August unless we can't find a place to live on
Long Island. Even at that, Pam would stay here, but I'll be gone."
"Long
Island?"
"Actually I'll
be working in the Manhattan headquarters of Weston Advertising, but Long Island
is the best place to live. I'll commute, like here. It's a good promotion,
Ed."
"Yes, a good
promotion, Ed, with me and the other wives stuck out in the boondocks while the
hubbys get to play with the big boys and girls," Pam said from behind the
bar. "Need a drink, Gar?"
"Sure thing,
Hon. Pam's not that excited about the move, but I think she'll adjust. Imagine,
New York City." Gary grinned like a little boy.
"Congratulations,
Gary. Next summer maybe I'll get a cheap place in the Village. I almost did
this year, except I've always wanted to see the West." I didn't know what
to say to Pam who abruptly left the two of us alone as she made her way very
carefully into the kitchen.
"What happened
with you and Allison?" Gary asked when we were alone.
"It's hard to
say. I thought we would be together forever. We dated for six years and barely
stayed married a year." I shook my head at the absurdity of it all.
"Marriage
changes things, I guess," Gary said.
"I don't think
I'm meant for marriage. Even though I'm sad about the divorce, I like the
freedom that's suddenly come my way. Besides, now I'm the black sheep of the
family, while you've become the paragon of middle-class life. Your parents are
probably thrilled, and mine, at least my mom, are in mourning."
"Thanks, Cuz.
I've finally got Philip off my back. And if Pam isn't too happy right now, I
think that will change in New York."
I stayed the weekend
in Evanston. The undercurrents between Pam and Gary seemed worse than between
Allison and me for some reason. Allison and I, even during our worst moments,
managed to remain civil. Pam seemed to be a hostile captive in her perfect home
in the suburbs. She barely spoke to Gary, and when she did, her voice dripped
with heavy sarcasm, and worse, Gary seemed to ignore her most of the time.
As I left them
standing in the driveway waving me away on my adventure, I wondered if the
marriage would survive the move to New York.
I ended up in San
Francisco during the summer of 1967 and watched the whirlwinds of change occur
within this city on the Bay. I didn't participate, but I became a great watcher
of people as I traveled from Berkeley and Telegraph Avenue to the other side of
the water where the lost souls of teenagedom had converged in Haight-Ashbury
during the media-hyped summer of love.
I began my trek back
home, wiser and sadder about the future of our
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