Read Online Return To Forever by James Frishkey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Frishkey
Ads: Link
immediately asked him to be his best man. He was getting married to the girl who cheated on him while he was at boot camp. Forgiveness is a beautiful thing. Joe was happy to accept even though he had zero respect for the bride and less for Johnny after he turned a blind eye to her unfaithfulness. Joe would wear his full dress uniform. Fuck the protestors.
Larry decided to re-up for another four years and was moving with his squadron from ‘Nam to Pearl Harbor and back. He was also becoming thoroughly immersed in growing and harvesting the finest “Mary Jane” this side of the Pacific. R&R in Thailand put him in contact with real experts in the field and he was soon a certified distributor of very excellent weed. His bankroll and roster of friends was growing quickly.
Phil’s troubles with higher learning were continuing. His grades at Michigan were sub-standard and probation led to dismissal. This was so out of character that no one could believe this downhill transition from the Phil who was a scholastic leader in high school. Back at home, hardly a word was exchanged with his father. Phil, however, was not a quitter and was determined to work his way back and get his degree. He enrolled in the community college and, with a modest class schedule, was able to sustain a 3.0 GPA which eventually led to his acceptance by Michigan Tech University. He would major in Criminal Justice.
For Joe, being home was like staring into a tunnel and seeing nothing at the end of it. He didn’t want to return to Food Giant and had the GI Bill at the ready to pay for a return visit to college. One night in a local bar, Joe bumped in to Bill Hogan, one of Phil’s friends who had served in the Army in Germany before Viet Nam. They became drinking buddies immediately and would cruise the bars in Bill’s Camaro looking for girls or fights, it really didn’t matter which came first.
Bill was a carpet installer and he alerted Joe to an opening as a dispatcher if he was interested. Joe interviewed for the job and was hired immediately by the Jewish owner who had been through the Holocaust and had a soft spot for vets. The office was a long way from Joe’s house and if the weather was bad or Joe was suffering from a hangover, the morning drive would be an adventure. Joe was driving a 1964 Galaxy 500 convertible with a tendency for the locks to freeze and many a winter morning he would have to drive holding the door with his hand to keep it from flinging open. He sure missed the Corvette.
While in the military, Joe continued to work on his guitar playing. He acquired an Ovation acoustic and practiced as much as he could. By the time of his discharge he was, in his opinion, a pretty damn good lead guitarist and also doubled as a bass player. He joined the Musician’s Union and floated as a fill-in on gigs around the city. He would still jam with Johnny but had clearly passed him on the skill meter.
On union gigs Joe had the opportunity to meet and play with a diverse group of musicians. From funk to rock, his chops expanded and no song, regardless of genre, was over his head. On one gig he met a bass player named Clark Douglas. Clark came from a very wealthy family and earned pocket money working in one of the family fur shops. His sister was a gorgeous blonde and a classically trained pianist. When Joe was in Clark’s family home he would sit spellbound watching her play the Steinway. She was the classic ice princess and gave Joe as much attention as she would a piece of furniture. Still, he would have given a year’s pay to get in her pants.
At home Joe was getting cabin fever. He had become addicted to the TV series “Then Came Bronson” about a loner riding his Harley across the country searching for adventures. Watching the opening sequence of Bronson riding across the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning mist looked pretty damn glamorous to Joe. He decided then and there to get a bike. When he shared his plan with his dad the
Larry decided to re-up for another four years and was moving with his squadron from ‘Nam to Pearl Harbor and back. He was also becoming thoroughly immersed in growing and harvesting the finest “Mary Jane” this side of the Pacific. R&R in Thailand put him in contact with real experts in the field and he was soon a certified distributor of very excellent weed. His bankroll and roster of friends was growing quickly.
Phil’s troubles with higher learning were continuing. His grades at Michigan were sub-standard and probation led to dismissal. This was so out of character that no one could believe this downhill transition from the Phil who was a scholastic leader in high school. Back at home, hardly a word was exchanged with his father. Phil, however, was not a quitter and was determined to work his way back and get his degree. He enrolled in the community college and, with a modest class schedule, was able to sustain a 3.0 GPA which eventually led to his acceptance by Michigan Tech University. He would major in Criminal Justice.
For Joe, being home was like staring into a tunnel and seeing nothing at the end of it. He didn’t want to return to Food Giant and had the GI Bill at the ready to pay for a return visit to college. One night in a local bar, Joe bumped in to Bill Hogan, one of Phil’s friends who had served in the Army in Germany before Viet Nam. They became drinking buddies immediately and would cruise the bars in Bill’s Camaro looking for girls or fights, it really didn’t matter which came first.
Bill was a carpet installer and he alerted Joe to an opening as a dispatcher if he was interested. Joe interviewed for the job and was hired immediately by the Jewish owner who had been through the Holocaust and had a soft spot for vets. The office was a long way from Joe’s house and if the weather was bad or Joe was suffering from a hangover, the morning drive would be an adventure. Joe was driving a 1964 Galaxy 500 convertible with a tendency for the locks to freeze and many a winter morning he would have to drive holding the door with his hand to keep it from flinging open. He sure missed the Corvette.
While in the military, Joe continued to work on his guitar playing. He acquired an Ovation acoustic and practiced as much as he could. By the time of his discharge he was, in his opinion, a pretty damn good lead guitarist and also doubled as a bass player. He joined the Musician’s Union and floated as a fill-in on gigs around the city. He would still jam with Johnny but had clearly passed him on the skill meter.
On union gigs Joe had the opportunity to meet and play with a diverse group of musicians. From funk to rock, his chops expanded and no song, regardless of genre, was over his head. On one gig he met a bass player named Clark Douglas. Clark came from a very wealthy family and earned pocket money working in one of the family fur shops. His sister was a gorgeous blonde and a classically trained pianist. When Joe was in Clark’s family home he would sit spellbound watching her play the Steinway. She was the classic ice princess and gave Joe as much attention as she would a piece of furniture. Still, he would have given a year’s pay to get in her pants.
At home Joe was getting cabin fever. He had become addicted to the TV series “Then Came Bronson” about a loner riding his Harley across the country searching for adventures. Watching the opening sequence of Bronson riding across the Golden Gate Bridge in the early morning mist looked pretty damn glamorous to Joe. He decided then and there to get a bike. When he shared his plan with his dad the
Similar Books
