Finding Tim
A Fourth Alternate Reality
by Charlie
With editorial assistance from Dix and John
Passages
I need to admit, right from the start, that I stole the title Passages from Gail Sheehy-well, you can't copyright a title! I realized as I looked back over the last few episodes that a lot of things were going on in the Gang that I hadn't reported. Births, a death, education, careers. Sheehy was more concerned with crises, but these things do represent significant passages in life. Let's try to catch up.
I'm going to begin with another Gayle-spelled a little differently. Gayle is Jody's wife, having married him in the airliner coming home from the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. It was just assumed that Gayle would then join the Gang, and it'd been accomplished with little fanfare. Not long after our return from Barcelona all of the Gang resident in Grand Forks gathered in Gangland to welcome Gayle to the Gang. Jody, knowing of the mooning that would be a part of the ceremony, went to a lingerie store and bought Gayle the sexiest panties that he could find. He gave them to her just before they set out for The Carl and insisted that she put them on. Gayle could smell a rat, but went along with Jody's request. Jody took her up on the elevator in The Carl, walked her to the utility closet door, entered the code, and ushered her in. The room was in semi-darkness so she really wasn't aware of the interesting pictures behind the gathered Gang members. Tim said, "Gayle, welcome to the Gang. I said, "Please lean over the bed and moon us."
That meant taking down slacks and exposing her underwear. She was a good sport, and she, and Jody, got a lot of comments. She pushed the panties-what little there was of them-down, exposing her buns. Franklin stepped up with a huge Magic Marker and inscribed the number 69 in as large numerals as could fit on her cheeks. Jody came up behind her, kissed both cheeks, pulled up her panties and slacks, and then kissed her on the lips. "Welcome to the Gang."
The lights came on, and Sid stepped forward and said, "You may look over the art gallery at your leisure, but right now I wish you would remove the sheet covering the most recent addition to the collection." Gayle did, and there she was, completely naked, giving herself a breast self-examination. She seemed to be showing off a little for her audience, which a viewer would naturally think he or she was part of. But in reality, the audience had been Jody, Cathy, and Sid.
Gayle then moved around the room looking at the other paintings. After a while she turned to the group that'd been watching her and said, "Someday I want a chance to compare each of you to your picture. But tonight I think I'll just check out Jody." She turned to kiss him and asked, "Can we sleep here tonight? I assume that this bed is here for a reason."
Jody just smiled and kissed her, while the rest of us quietly departed.
Just before Christmas of 1989 Frank Littleton, Ronnie's father, had boarded the QE-2 for a round the world cruise. His wife, Adele, had died about two weeks before and his way of dealing with the loss was to seek solitude. Whether he'd find it aboard a Cunard cruise ship was doubtful, but he was clear that that was what he wanted to do. His cruise docked in New York on May 10, 1990. Ronnie, Kyle, and Sharon along with their two children Kevin, age 12, and Kay, age 10, flew to New York to meet him.
They'd received a huge collection of post cards from him, mailed at each port of call-five cards for each from each port. Kevin and Kay had let everyone read theirs, but then claimed them to put in a big scrapbook. They hadn't been sure whether the pictures or the stamps were the more interesting, so Ronnie had gotten them clear pages that allowed you to see both sides of the card. It began with pictures of the Golden Gate and the QE-2. It ended with a picture of the Statue of Liberty, which Frank had purchased on the ship and gave the kids as he arrived.
The post cards for the kids and a huge smile for the parents told his story. They could see that he was happy and healthy. In fact, he looked healthier than he'd been in years. He explained that the shipboard gym was wonderful and between using it most mornings and walking the deck each afternoon or evening, he'd gotten more exercise than he had in years. Then he hit them with his big news. "In three weeks I leave from Vancouver for a summer-long cruise to Canada, Alaska and the Arctic. Home for a month, and then I leave Fort Lauderdale for a cruise around South America through the Panama Canal. I loved my last cruise; had the time of my life. In the next three weeks I'm going to get my house ready to sell; pack up the little bit of stuff that I want to keep; and leave the house in the hands of a Realtor. I intend to make my home aboard ship."
Ronnie hardly knew what to say. "Dad, you must've had quite a cruise. But are you sure that you want to make that your life?"
"Of course I'm not sure. Everything is subject to change. But it's time to get rid of the house. When, and if, I'm ready to settle down, I'll rent an apartment or buy a condo. It'll be small, and I'll get all new furniture-except for one or two pieces that I intend to store-including your mother's and my favorite chairs."
Kyle asked, "Didn't you get lonely as a single person on the ship?"
"Heck, no, Kyle. For every single man there are about ten single women on these ships. I'm healthy, not too bad looking, friendly, and liked to encourage them. And I might add that, with few exceptions, the single women of my generation, or at least those on nice cruises, have adopted the sexual mores of younger generations. If my body had been up to it, I could've had sex three times a day, every single day."
Sharon asked, "Do we dare ask just how often you did have sex?"
"Honey, I don't keep score. Never did and never will. But you would've needed a calculator."
Kevin and Kay had been listened to all of this, and finally Kevin broke in and asked, "Grandpa, didn't you miss Grandma?"
"Oh, Kev, I sure did, and I do, and I always will. And I'm sure that wherever she is, she misses me. But life moves forward, Kevin, and your Grandma wouldn't want me to live in the past. I had a wonderful life with Grandma, and out of that came your Daddy, and then you and Kay. But life moves on, and we all have to move with it. You miss Grandma, I miss Grandma, but it's the way of the world. We all move on."
Kay asked, "Are you going to get married again, Grandpa?"
"I don't think so, honey. I'm having too much fun playing the field."
Kevin said, "Oh, Grandpa!"
Sharon said, "I'm not sure that you two should really have heard all of Grandpa's tales."
This time it was Kay, "Oh, Mom. We really do know a little about the world. Grandpa isn't doing much different than you and all of the Gang do."
Kyle laughed and said, "OK, Mom, I guess she told you."
"I guess she did," replied Sharon with a smile.
They spent a day sightseeing in New York and then headed back to Grand Forks for school and Grandpa's great packing up. When they got back to Grand Forks they discovered that Andy's father, Curtis, was quite ill. He'd had a serious stroke; he was completely paralized, and he couldn't speak. The doctors were giving Melanie a little hope for only a partial recovery, but they hoped that he might be able to eventually walk with a walker and speak, but poorly. The chances of a full recovery were close to nil, but it couldn't be ruled out. It had happened three days before, and Melanie was just getting over the initial shock.
All of the local Gang, which was almost the whole Gang, had been completely supportive. Melanie had never been alone at the hospital, and when they finally, on the third day, got her to go home and sleep in her own bed, Jim's mother, Trudi, had gone with her. It gave Melanie a chance to talk out of the hospital environment. She told Trudi, "I know that Curtis doesn't want to live like this. He told me so time after time. We have all of the legal paperwork-a living will and medical power of attorney-but what options do I have? They're going to keep him in that room, hooked up to machines, until he's well enough to go to a nursing home. He could lie in a nursing home bed for years. Yes, he might get a little better, but he'll never be the Curtis that I knew, or that he would want to be."
Trudi said, "Melanie, you have to take charge. Don't let the doctors run his life, and yours. Disconnect the machines. Bring him home. Make him as comfortable as you can; and he will be much happier with you as nurse than strangers. We'll see what happens."
Melanie found out that she was a stronger woman than she realized. She called me, the only lawyer in the Gang, to back her up, and she headed for the hospital. When the doctors made their rounds in the morning she said, "I'm going to take my husband home his afternoon. He'll need to be weaned from these machines."
"Oh, we can't do that; it might kill him."
"In other words, you're keeping him artificially alive."
"No, no. He's receiving standard life support."
"He doesn't want standard life support. I have his medical power of attorney-it's on file with the hospital and should be in his chart-and on his behalf I'm refusing this treatment. He's to be free of tubes and wires by two o'clock this afternoon."
"We'll have to check with the medical ethics committee."
"You don't have to check with anyone. The patient, through his power of attorney, is directing you. You must follow his direction. And, if you read his living will, you will find that this is consistent with the instructions he wrote out and signed."
The conversation, Melanie against three doctors and four residents, continued for another half-hour. Amazingly, she didn't need me, though at one point she decided that introducing me as Curtis' and her lawyer, added weight to her arguments. When we returned at two, Curtis wasn't disconnected. Melanie got the nurse in charge of the floor and said, "I can disconnected wires, tubes, and needles as well as the next person. In ten minutes that is exactly what I intend to do, if you all haven't done it. If anybody tries to stop me, my lawyer will call the police."
Curtis was disconnected by 2:30, and amazingly seemed to be as much alive as he'd been when the tubes and wires were connected. The nurse helped us get Curtis in a wheel chair, and we were ready to head out. We were stopped by a nurse who demanded that Melanie sign a release form. She handed it to me, saying, "Should I sign this?"
It was a standard release, absolving the hospital for virtually all responsibility for anything that might happen to Curtis, and stating that Curtis, i.e. Melanie, understood that he (she) was leaving against the doctors' advice. I said, "I wouldn't sign that. Curtis has no obligation to sign anything in order to walk out, or be wheeled out, of the hospital. I would simply write a brief note acknowledging that Curtis is leaving against the advice of-and then write the name of the doctor that advised Curtis, or you, not to leave."
The nurse wasn't happy, and I suggested that if the hospital wanted, and moved quickly, they should get their legal counsel on the telephone. Whoever was the supervisor on duty decided against that, and we left, with the nurse grudgingly pushing the wheel chair-it's against hospital protocol for a patient to be pushed by other than hospital staff!
Curtis seemed happier than I'd seen him since the stroke. Melanie and I are sure that he smiled on the way home from the hospital. When we got to his house he saw the bed that Melanie had moved into the dining room, which she'd converted to a bedroom to avoid stairs. Curtis seemed visibly unhappy when we started to push him toward the bed, and made little grunts of protest. I turned the wheel chair and aimed toward the living room and the little hint of a smile returned. In the living room Melanie gestured toward his favorite easy chair and the little smile returned. We lifted him into his chair, and he seemed content at last.
Melanie settled into the chair next to Curtis and just looked at him. She asked me, "Do you think he can understand what we say to him?"
"I would guess that he can. Why don't you ask him? He's been able to communicate unhappiness with his little grunts and seems to be smiling when he likes what is happening to him." I turned to Curtis and said, "Curtis, show us how you'd like to signal a, "Yes," answer to a question."
He smiled. It clearly was a smile. I continued, "How about, "No?"
He gave a little whimper or grunt. Melanie was delighted. She got up and walked over to him and hugged him and kissed him. "That's the first communication we had from him since the stroke." She was so excited that she went on with, "What would you like to do now?"
Curtis just sat silently. Melanie thought for a minute and then burst out laughing. "Stupid me; you can't really answer that with a, 'Yes,' or, 'No,' can you?"
Curtis grunted a little, but seemed to smile as well. Melanice seemed puzzled. I said, "He answered your question, Melanie. He's telling you that your question couldn't be answered with a, 'Yes,' or, 'No'."
Melanie said, "My goodness, Curtis, your mind is working well, isn't it? It's just that you can't talk. Is that correct?"
Curtis smiled his slight smile.
"Would you like to eat?"
Grunt.
"Would you like to go to bed?"
Grunt.
I spoke up. "Would you like the Gang to visit you?"
Smile.
"All of them?"
Smile.
"All at once?"
Grunt.
"Maybe a half dozen at a time?"
Smile.
"We'll call them. Now, do you think you can eat or drink?"
No response.
"Are you telling us you don't know the answer to that?'
Smile.
Melanie said, "My God, Charlie, you've really established communication with him. The doctors in the hospital told us that was hopeless."
I turned to Curtis, "It's not hopeless, is it?"
Grunt. I had to realize that before the grunt indicated that Curtis was unhappy. Now it only meant, "No." I said that to Curtis.
Smile.
"Curtis, do you want to keep up the question and answer?"
Smile.
"What would you like to talk about? I know you can't answer that, so how about I give you some possible subjects. OK?"
Smile.
"The weather?"
Grunt.
"The hospital?"
Grunt.
"Your future?"
Smile.
"OK, since you can't bring up an idea, I'm going to have to suggest them. You won't be offended if I'm blunt, will you?"
Grunt.
"Are you glad you're home from the hospital?'
Smile.
"If you get sicker, should we call an ambulance to take you back? That might be the only way to keep you alive."
Grunt.
"Are you sure about that?"
Grunt.
"It's very important that we be able to demonsrate that not going back to the hospital is your wish. So I'm going to ask you that question in front of most of your visitors. Is that OK?"
Smile.
"Would you like to try to drink?"
Smile.
"Water?"
Grunt.
"Juice?"
Grunt.
"Coke?"
Grunt.
"Something harder?"
Smile.
"Would it be OK to start with water? If that works, I'll get you a real drink"
Smile.
Melanie arrived with a small glass of water. We held it to his lips and sort of poured a little into his mouth. Quite a bit dribbled down his front. I asked, "Did you get any?"
Smile.
"Want more?"
Smile.
This time a little bit more seemed to get inside him. "More water?"
Grunt.
"Something else?"
Smile.
I turned to Melanie; "You know what he likes?"
"How about some hard cider?"
Grunt.
"OK. You want Scotch on the rocks, don't you?"
Smile.
I said, "Should I call the doctor and ask if that's OK for you?"
Grunt.
Melanie said, "I can't believe how good our communication is, after three days of nothing. Curtis, you're sure about not calling the doctor?"
Smile.
"I'm going to put a little water with the Scotch. Is that OK?"
Smile.
I said, "I take it that the smile is a grudging, 'Yes'; not an enthusiastic one.
Smile.
"Now that's the Curtis we all know and love."
Smile.
"Would I be correct that the first visitors you'd like are Jim, Andy and their whole family?"
Smile.
"Did you know they visited in the hospital two or three times a day."
Smile. Then a grunt.
"You smiled and grunted. Let me guess; you're telling me that you knew they were there, but didn't know how often."
Smile.
"You're thinking that I'm pretty clever."
Smile.
"I think I am too."
Melanie chimed in with, "Don't' let it go to your head. Do you agree with that, Curtis?"
Smile.
I slipped out and called Jim. I told him that Curtis was home from the hospital, feeling well, and communicating with us easily.
He said, "I can hardly believe that, Charlie. Is he up for visitors?"
"He wants the whole Gang, in small doses. For now, bring your entire family; that's where he wants to start."
They were all there in under a half an hour. We left them alone after helping them get the hang of communicating with yes/no questions.
Melanie and I began calling all of the Gang. It was now seven in the evening, and we weren't sure whether we should ask people to come over that evening or the next day. I said to Melanie, "I think you should ask Curtis."
She agreed and went into the living room and interupted the little family gathering. She asked, "Curtis, do you want us to invite the Gang over for this evening, or tomorrow morning. Smile for evening, grunt for morning."
Andy said, "Mom, he's got to be getting tired. Let's wait until morning."
Curtis went grunt, grunt, smile.
Melanie said, "Andy, your father is able to communicate his own mind. Curtis, did that grunt, grunt, smile mean, as I think it meant, 'No, no, to Andy, and bring the Gang this evening?'"
Smile.
Andy said, "Dad, you must be getting tired."
Smile.
"But you want the Gang tonight anyway, is that right?"
Smile.
"Bring them on, Mom."
Smile.
And on they came, We gave Andy and his whole family an hour with Curtis, and Melanie joined them after we'd finished our phone calls. When Melanie went in she found that they'd developed an alternate communication system. Kay had simply taken a big sheet of paper and made a 5 by 5 square on which she'd written the alphabet, with X and Z sharing a square. She'd point her finger across the top of the square, and Curtis would smile when she was on the row of letters he wanted. Then she'd go down the row and his smile would pick out a particular letter. They'd gotten quite good, and Curtis could spell out words very quickly. Of course, if you knew what to ask, a yes/no question could get you an answer much quicker. But this way Curtis could bring up new ideas. Often one word would give somebody a clue to what yes/no question to ask.
Then the Gang started arriving, beginning with Tim. As fast as they came we familiarized them with the communication systems and let them in. As the room got full, we let the ones that'd been there the longest out, and they gathered in Melanie's kitchen, and anywhere else in the house they could find room. The COGs were there as well, even though it was getting pretty late.
Curtis was clearly tiring, but anytime a suggestion was made that he ought to sleep he grunted. If we asked about clearing out the Gang so he could rest, we got a grunt. Jim finally said to everyone, "Look, folks, he clearly doesn't want to keep having to answer those questions. He'll make it clear it he wants us to leave, and if he wants to sleep he'll just close his eyes and sleep. Is that right, Dad?"
Smile.
The questions, spelling, and conversation among the Gang, which Curtis clearly liked to hear, kept up until almost four in the morning. At that point he closed his eyes. Andy touched his arm and asked, "Is it time for us all to leave and let you alone with Mom?"
Grunt.
"Alone with Mom and me?"
Smile.
We left the three of them alone. Soon Andy came out with tears in his eyes. He said, "He stopped answering questions, until we asked if he'd like the spelling square. He smiled. We got out the square and he spelled out, 'Goodbye. I love you.' Then he closed his eyes and seems to be asleep."
A little while later Melanie came out; she'd clearly been crying. She said, "He spelled out 'Goodbye. I love you.' Then Andy left and we were alone. I was crying my eyes out. I told him I loved him too, and picked up the square. He opened his eyes and spelled out, "Tell me goodbye. Dont cry." I said, "Goodbye, I love you, but I can't stop crying, Curtis." He closed his eyes and slept. Oh, Andy, we're losing him. That's what his, 'Goodbye,' meant."
"I know, Mom." They cried in each other's arms.
Tim slipped into the living room, came back, and reported that Curtis was sleeping. He told the Gang to go home. Andy, Jim and their family just sat in the kitchen. About five-thirty in the morning, Melanie went in to check on Curtis. He wasn't breathing. She called their family doctor, not an ambulance. He came, pronounced Curtis dead-a legal formality, preliminary to his signing the death certificate-and said, "There was very little chance of any kind of recovery. But it's too bad you weren't able to have some last words with Curtis."
Melanie smiled and said, "We had lots of last words. He had almost seventy visitors in the last few hours, he communicated with all of them, and his last words to me were, 'Goodbye, I love you'."
She said, "Tell him, Charlie," and I explained how we'd used his grunts and smiles to communicate.
The doctor said, "You're very lucky. Very seldom do I see someone with that severe a stroke actually communicate ideas, as you describe."
Melanie said, "Curtis was special."
And indeed he was.
Melanie had a simple funeral, and buried Curtis in Memorial Park Cemetery where the two of them had purchased a plot not long after moving to Grand Forks. Curtis had been adamant that he wanted to be buried near the Gang, where he'd felt completely welcomed, and not back in Michigan where he would only be near other dead Oldfields. Melanie had felt the same. At the graveside service Melane told me, "Charlie, I need to be alone for a while. Andy, Jim, Kara and Amy will look in on me, but tell the Gang to lay low for a while. I'll let you know when I'm ready to be back in circulation."
We honored her request, and in three or four months she gradually contacted members of the Gang and got back in circulation. Unlike Beverly, Melanie didn't seek nighttime companionship. I asked her about that, and she replied, "I don't know. Somehow it seems like I'm betraying Curtis, even though I know I wouldn't be. Who knows how I'll feel in the future?" So far, she hasn't changed her mind.
Enough of sad events. There were many happy events to celebrate: the arrival of the Grandchildren of the Gang, the GrandCOGs-and some that sort of fill the gap between the COGs and the GrandCOGs. You aleady know that Arnie and Margie-enthusiastically supported by all of the Circle-had two children, Natalie and Jocey in 1989 and 1992. They were followed by Jody and Gayle's little Owen Matthews on March 21, 1998.
From the time he graduated from college just before the Barcelona Olympics of 1992 until he and Hal scored their fantastic silver/gold tour de force in Atlanta in 1998 Jody had done virtually nothing but run. Fred had told him when they were planning his magic wedding on the airplane returning from Barcelona that as long as he wanted to remain a competitive Olympic runner, Fred would see to the matter of income. In fact, that hadn't proved necessary. No longer prohibited by the Olympics from professional sports, Jody found that there were many marathons that offered purses from trivial to quite substantial. He told Hal, "Hell, Hal, if I'm going to run marathons regularly to practice-with you or with other runners-I might as well get paid to run them."
Hal had agreed, and together they'd worked out a competition schedule that would've killed most runners, but fit Jody to a tee. After all, he had adopted Hal's training rule that the way to train for a marathon was to run marathons. Jody was able to earn a fairly substantial living from his race winnings. His presence sometimes discouraged a few other top runners from entering a race, but audiences loved to come and watch Jody-the man with the two Olympic gold medals. Gayle always traveled with him, and the two of them thought of it as one long protracted honeymoon.
Following Atlanta Jody ran a few races, but soon he and Gayle decided it was time to retire, settle down in Grand Forks and raise a family. They'd saved enough money so that Jody didn't have to worry about getting a job very quickly. They found a nice apartment, settled down, stopped Gayle taking the pill, and conceived shortly thereafter. And so came Owen. He eventually proved to be an only child, though it would be years before Jody and Gayle accepted that. It made Owen loved all the more.
Jody thought a long time about a career. He thought that he'd like to stay connected to athletics in some way, but wasn't sure how. He talked with Hal about it, and they explored the idea of being a coach, a P.E. teacher at the high school or college level (or perhaps both), and other sports related jobs. He thought about the growing new field of sports nutrition and began to explore what would be involved in becoming qualified. What he found didn't please him: nutrition or dietetics was located in many different places in different universities: schools of nursing (as at UND), public health, food science and others. He'd need an undergraduate degree and clinical practice to become a registered dietician. That he could do in the UND School of Nursing. Then he'd have to leave Grand Forks for a larger university to get graduate training at the master's or doctoral level, with specialization in sports nutrition. He was looking at six years, minimum, with half of it away from Grand Forks. He talked it over with Gayle, who did try to encourage him. But he concluded, "I'm 27 years old, I'd be 33 by the time I was fully trained. We don't have enough savings to cover six years of study. It doesn't make sense."
"Do you really need that much training? Couldn't you just stay here, become a registered dietician, and go from there?"
"I could. But if I want to do significant work, I'd need the higher level training. I don't want to do something halfway."
One evening at dinner Gayle said to Jody, "Jody, you have a lot to offer to coaches at all levels. Not just here in Grand Forks, but across the country. You believe in Tim's mantra of love and support, and you have the Olympic gold to give you credentials. Let's start a business that gives coaching clinics anywhere that they're willing to pay. We could make a decent living, and you could make a significant contribution to kids by improving the level of coaching in America."
"You think people would pay me to come and tell them how to coach?"
"I do. And if it doesn't work out, what've you lost?"
"How do you fit in?"
"You're going to need an office, staffed all the time, while you have to be free to move around and give clinics. I'll run the office."
"That could be a big job."
"I'll hire help after we get started."
It didn't take Jody long to be persuaded. At Gayle's suggestion, he began by giving a free clinic for high school and college coaches of basketball in Grand Forks and the surrounding area. He got Jim and Hal to be part of the clinic leadership and it was a huge success. It was repeated soon after in Fargo, this time with a reasonable registration fee. He was on his way.
Jody and Gayle weren't the only new parents: Willie and Sally had become engaged during the great flood in the spring of 1997. That June they went to Madison for Auggie and Lynn's wedding. While they were in Madison, Sally told Willie, "It's time for us to think about getting married."
Willie was easy to convince, responding, "When and where?"
"I think I'd like to have Father Phil marry us back home at St. Barts."
Willie was very much aware that he was a big name sports figure, even though he'd been retired from diving for three years. He had an equally famous father, and was surrounded by all of the Gang. They could sneak off and elope, but any wedding that involved invitations was going to be a media affair whether they liked it or not. He discussed that with Sally, but she said that she thought her parents would get a kick out of it all.
Sally went on, "Willie, I imagine a very simple wedding, but a pretty large affair."
"Aren't those two things inconsistent?"
"I don't think they have to be. St. Barts is an old building, but it'll seat a little more than 200. If the other COGs and most of the Gang come, that'll be about a hundred. My friends and my parents' close friends will make another hundred. Let's have a big wedding party, but we'll all wear simple dresses and suits. I don't even want a fancy wedding gown; I have always pictured myself getting married in a simple white dress, knee length and short sleeves. All of my attendants can wear similar, solid color dresses, and each of your attendants can wear a dark suit with a solid color tie that matches the dress."
"Shirt color could match, as well."
"Now you're thinking like me."
"We'll have a big picnic reception out at Lake Bemidji State Park. We'll have everybody bring a picnic basket, and we'll auction them off-like the scene in the movie Oklahoma!-and we'll give the proceeds to the local food pantry."
"Wait a minute, out-of-towners will have a hard time with that."
"OK, we'll have the locals bring picnic baskets enough to feed two families. The out-of-towners will bid. Then the winning bidders and the family that fixed the basket can eat together and get to know each other. Some lucky family will get to know Tim and Charlie, whom they've only read about in magazines or seen on television. You've got such exciting people in the Gang; it'll be the talk of Bemidji for months."
"OK, when?"
"We'll never get it organized for this summer. How about next July? My parents would like plenty of time for such a big event. And I know they'll want it nice."
"That's OK with me, but I'm ready to have you start living with me."
"I have to be out of my dorm in five days. Instead of packing up and moving back to Bemidji for the summer, why don't I just move into The Lighthouse? I know that my parents would be cool with that, and I can't imagine your getting any static from your family or the Gang."
"Not likely. I'd love to have you move in. As much as you've been there this spring, I don't think many people will notice any change."
It was settled. For her junior college year Sally moved out of the dorm and lived at The Lighthouse. For her senior year nothing changed, except that she became Sally Schneider Carson-she had no problem taking the name Carson, but she refused to be Mrs. Willie Carson-her name was Sally. Within six months of the wedding she was pregnant, and their son was born on October 5, 1999. They had a long discussion about what to call the baby, but in the end they both agreed that he had to be William, the fourth in line, with all three of the previous generations alive and kicking. Sally said, "He may be named William, but we can't call him that. Bill is taken, Billy is taken, Willie is taken, I guess that leaves Will."
Willie thought for a minute and said, "There's already a Will in the Gang. We're so close it could get confusing. Can't we come up with an alternative nickname for William?"
Sally said, "Well, we could just call him William. Wilhelm is an alternative. Too formal, though. Wait, I know. I think the Irish Liam is a version of William. Let's call him Liam. I like that."
"So do I"; and Liam he became.
Liam introduced a new element into The Lighthouse: children. There were five couples living there, three of them heterosexual. Clearly Liam wouldn't be the last. Where were they going to live? At first, it was no problem for Liam to sleep in the room with Willie and Sally, but that wasn't a long-term solution. The Lighthouse keepers (that's what they called themselves) got together to discuss the problem. Nels didn't see it as a problem at all. "We have a big attic on the third floor. Plenty of room for three bunk beds, dressers, desks and a big play area. As COGs we'd have loved to all live together. They're going to be GrandCOGs; they can all live together."
Doubts were expressed, and of course they talked about the inevitable, "What will people think?" since it was certain that there'd be both girls and boys in the next generation. As I'm sure you can guess, what other people thought wasn't considered to be particularly important, and it was agreed that they'd finish the attic and see how it worked out.
Sally said, "I don't want to put pressure on anybody, but this will work much better if the GrandCOGs involved are pretty near the same age. In other words, Mary and Connie, toss out the pills, and Nels and Hardie, get rid of the rubbers." It was agreed, and the keepers proved to be spectacularly fecund.
Hardie and Connie were first with little Anton, born September 8, 2000, followed by William Robert Carson (called Bobbie) on November 12, 2000. Close on their heels, Nels and Mary had Virginia, called Ginnie, on November 30, 2000. Nature enforced a time-out of about a year, and May Hassett came on November 18, 2001 followed by Nels and Mary's Nelson, to be called Sonnie, on January 13, 2002. The three couples had had six children, four boys and two girls, in the space of a little over two and a quarter years!
The grandparents, and all the rest of the Gang, could hardly believe it, but they were incredibly happy for the kids. Proud grandparents and grand uncles and aunts were we all. To start with, the "kids' room"-never to be called the attic or the nursery-had six cribs and a double bed where one set of parents slept each night. The room furnishings would change over the years to be age appropriate for the little [lighthouse] keepers. We'll hear more about them as the story progresses.
As he told you [Episode 144] Bob and Jude were married right after his graduation from UND, June, 1997. Jude still had two years of college to go, so they didn't push having a child. But they were eager, and Jude was a couple of months pregnant when she graduated in 1999. Cindy was born on December 28, 1999, making her what I call a "century baby." My mother had been born almost exactly a century earlier, so I was very familiar with a "century baby." Being born very close to New Year's in the century year (i.e. the last year of the century, 2000-don't believe any of that baloney about 2000 being the first year of the century) means that your age runs with the calendar. For example, except for the last four days of 2034, Cindy would be age 34 all year. If anybody ever asked me my mother's age, I could tell them instantly by looking at any calendar. Cindy would be the same.
At this stage in his career Bob worked behind the counter in the Post Office, and Jude stayed home to be a full time mother. They doted on Cindy, who'd grow up in the shadow of no one. She was destined to be as high an achiever as her Uncle Willie and Granddad Billy
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