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    Federal Folkways
    Federal Folkways
    Federal Folkways
    Ebook234 pages4 hours

    Federal Folkways

    By William White-acre

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    About this ebook

    Four stories to tell a tale about a bygone generation. Viet Nam. Insipid 70's. Greedy 80's. All happening around the Nation's Capital.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWilliam White-acre
    Release dateFeb 28, 2018
    ISBN9781370427932
    Federal Folkways
    Author

    William White-acre

    Photographer first, scribbler second. Lived a long time. When your life resembles an epoch, well, it is scary. Just hope I can entertain.

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      Book preview

      Federal Folkways - William White-acre

      FEDERAL FOLKWAYS

      William White-acre

      Copyright 2018 by William White-acre

      Smashwords Edition

      white-acre.wixsite.com/photography

      *Other works by the author:

      (novels)

      Surrounded By Mythology

      I, The Hero

      True For X

      Forgotten Faces

      Memory 2.0

      Mysterious Logic

      A Rush Of Silence

      Heaven On Earth

      Follow The Contrails

      (Photography Books)

      A2Z

      Dance

      Sand People

      Magic City

      Flesh

      Human Condition

      Table Of Contents:

      Chapter 1: Winter Josie

      Chapter 2: Spring The Termination

      Chapter 3: Summer Jo Jo's Real Estate

      Chapter 4: Fall Being Marooned

      Chapter 1: Winter Josie

      JOSIE

      It was cold as hell that winter sometime in the 1960's, more like New England than Virginia, with biting winds and snow that came down in feet instead of inches. People were ice skating on the ponds that dotted the countryside. Snowdrifts had reached up and over my car in the driveway. I, personally, was sick and tired of shoveling snow.

      I had met her back in the summer. She was coming out of the grocery store in town and she dropped one of the bags she was carrying. I helped her pick it up. She smiled at me and thanked me, giggling. You’re welcome, I had managed to say, stammering. Her mother had honked the horn, motioning for her daughter to hurry up. She turned back to me and crinkled up her nose and said, Mothers. I nodded and smiled back at her. Then she was gone. I watched her drive away, hoping that she might look back, maybe wave.

      Fast forward to the school year. I spent the majority of the first few weeks of school hoping to see her in the halls or in one of my classes. She was nowhere.

      I lived in a suburban town where families moved often, coming and going frequently. Just another bedroom community for the US Government housed in Washington DC. She’s moved I told myself, trying to deny my disappointment. I never even knew her name.

      It was around Halloween, I believe. Gene, a friend from school, had invited me over to his house. We were hanging out in his basement. Then his next door neighbor came over. I didn’t know him. He went to Parochial school in a neighboring town. Wanta play pool? he asked us.

      We went back over to his house. His family had a large rec room with a ping pong table and a pool table. It was like striking pay dirt. We must have played for hours.

      After playing pool, we had switched to playing ping-pong, with the victor commanding the table. An errant shot had sent the ball rolling down the hall towards the utility room. It’s by the tool shelf, Gene called out, pointing. I bent over to pick up the ball just as the back door opened.

      When I stood up there she was. It was her. She was wearing a Catholic school uniform, with knee socks. Mystery solved. Now I knew why I had never seen her around my High School.

      Hi, she said, smiling.

      You can disappear. Now! her brother called out from across the room. We don’t need any stupid sisters hanging around down here.

      I couldn’t say anything. I just stood there. Stone. Statue. Speechless.

      I love your uniform, Gene heckled, laughing and pointing. What are you ten years old or what?

      She ignored their remarks and said to me: Haven’t I seen you before?

      Yeah, I muttered, dropping the ping pong ball, where it bounced across the linoleum floor.

      Are we gonna play today or what? her brother demanded to know, smacking his paddle on the ping pong table. I’m about to beat your ass in this game.

      I doubt that, she shot back, laughing. Everybody in the neighborhood beats my brother.

      Yuk, yuk, so funny, her brother countered, smacking the paddle again. The ball’s over there. If you can stop looking at my goofy sister maybe we can finish the game.

      I blushed. She bent over and retrieved the ball from next to a stack of last year’s National Geographic and handed it to me. Kick his ass, she whispered. I watched her disappear up the stairs.

      I lost the game and endured her brother’s gibes gladly. I had found her. Better, I knew where she lived, and I was playing rec room games with her idiot brother. Life was good.

      When can we go back over to his house and play some pool? I asked Gene when we were heading back over to his house.

      I don’t know, he said, shrugging. The guy’s kind of a jerkoff. I can’t stand to be around him that much.

      He’s not that bad a guy, I offered, trying to sound neutral. Nice pool table, I added a moment later.

      You ought to see his sister out of that uniform, Gene said, whistling. Gooood lookin’, he chortled. Great bod.

      Really, I said, trying to sound uninterested. Kind of hard to tell in that uniform thing. They really have to wear those to school-huh?

      Yep. Pretty stupid, Gene said. Their parents are devout Catholics. I think they are on a first name basis with the Pope. The older brother is a priest.

      Really.

      Don’t get any ideas about Josie, Gene suddenly warned. Catholic girls are the worst. Besides, her parents hate Protestants.

      Josie, I was thinking. Her name is Josie. I could still see her long blond hair and blue eyes, with the sprinkling of freckles on her nose.

      Protestant, what’s that? I joked.

      You are, Gene declared, pointing at me. Don’t start another religious war in my neighborhood.

      Do you think she likes me? I blurted out.

      Gene turned to stare at me, then said, Pa-the-tic. Don’t embarrass yourself.

      Embarrassment was a small price to pay, I was thinking as I walked home, trudging through the fallen leaves that were piling up on the streets. I think there’s a rake in the shed that has your name on it, my father announced as I was coming in the back door, but I didn’t listen. I guess we could let the leaves just sit there all winter, make good mulch for the lawn, he continued sarcastically. I closed my bedroom door and turned on my stereo.

      Romance came hard. Being that we attended different schools, it was increasingly difficult to maintain a connection, if you will. But I’m getting ahead of myself somewhat.

      Autumn. Football games and dances, then the inevitable change of the season, bringing cool, crisp weather. Josie was never far from my thoughts. Okay, day dreams really if you have to know the truth. I could still see her in that plaid skirt with the clean, white shirt covered by a gray sweater. Fantasies being what they are, I imagined any number of scenarios about us, the us being a couple embarking on going steady.

      Jokes aside, I creatively angled to visit Gene’s house frequently with the hope of encountering Josie some way some how. Of course Gene was wise to my plan. It was rather obvious, I guess.

      Maybe you could put up a sign on my front lawn saying: JOSIE, I LOVE YOU, he exclaimed, taking the time to deride me for being so hopelessly (helplessly) smitten. I’m so sure Josie’s mom would just love to have you over for dinner anytime. Make it Friday night and you can have fish, he teased, laughing.

      Fish, I said absently, pretending to ignore him.

      Yeah, shit for brains. They are Mackerel snappers, you know, he explained, punching me on the arm. Catholics, he added when he noticed the confused look on my face. Boy, where were you brought up?

      Oh, I get it, I said, frowning at him. So what’s wrong with fish on Friday? I joked, smiling at him.

      I guess you could always convert, Gene suggested with mock seriousness. Yeah, that’s right, then you could make a pilgrimage to Rome and kiss the Pope’s ring. You might like that.

      Sure, I snorted, punching him back. Like you’ve never thought about getting it on with Josie. I bet you spy on her from your bedroom window at night. Pervert. Come to think of it your bedroom is on that side of the house. You probably beat-off when you catch her getting undressed.

      She ain’t that hot, he exclaimed unconvincingly.

      Oh yeah, right, I shot back, smirking. I betcha have binoculars stashed in your room right now. You do, don’t you? Admit it.

      She’s a stuck up bitch, he declared. And she’s flat anyway. Like a board.

      Gene’s mother came home and that ended our in depth discussion. You boys want me to make you something to eat? his mother called out from the kitchen. Gene shook his head no in my direction, then motioned for me to follow him upstairs. No thanks, mom, Gene called from the stairs.

      We sat in his room tossing a football back and forth from one bed to the other. I was trying to control myself and not look out the window. I had timed my arrival at Gene’s house to coincide with the time Josie returned home from Parochial school. It had taken me several visits to coordinate my surveillance of her house.

      I see what you’re doing, Gene said, shaking his head dejectedly.

      What? I said with about as much innocence as I could muster.

      Pathetic with a capital P, he muttered, zinging me with a pass that bounced off the wall. Nice catch, he sneered.

      Nice pass, jerk-off, I shot back, getting up to pick up the football. I quickly stole a glance out the window.

      Do you think your parents will let you transfer to Saint Francis of Sissy High School? Gene asked in a girlish voice, laughing. Hey, I got it. You could study to be a Priest. Yeah. I can see you wearing one of those goofy collars and going around saying ‘Domini, bless you my child.’

      And I can see you with a nose out to here after I pop you a few times, I said, throwing a few shadow punches in his direction.

      What about that bad knee you got from playing football? You know you have to do a lot of kneeling all the time. Might be a problem when you convert. I guess you could get dispensation from the man in the beanie…like a waver or something. I got it. A Papal decree, yeah, that’s it. Please be advised that he doesn’t have to kneel at mass because before he became a homo Catholic he was actually a man and played football.

      Where’s you binoculars? I asked boldly, ignoring his diatribe against me. Come on, I know you got ‘em around here somewhere.

      No, no, you mustn’t look at nubile little girls anymore. You are going to be a devout Catholic, he said in a lofty tone of voice. No more sinful thoughts from you.

      You are so full of shit it is coming out your ears, Gene, I cried out, walking over to the window and looking out. I could see a bus coming down the street.

      Is that the bus I hear? Gene sang out, cupping his hand to his ear. It must be the bus bringing back the Papist stooges after a long day of reciting their catechisms. My, my, let me dust off my crucifix.

      I saw the bus stop a few houses down from hers. Several kids got off the bus. Two boys were trying to say something to Josie. She turned away from them and cut across her neighbor’s lawn. One of the boys yelled out something in her direction. Could you get any more conceited? he heard one of them shout out.

      That must be the fairy princess now, Gene said, walking over to the window. Josie, Josie, I would gladly die a thousands deaths for just one kiss from you, he recited in a stentorian voice, falling to the floor as if he had been stabbed.

      Funny guy, I mumbled, continuing to watch her walk to her house.

      Gene jumped to his feet and quickly slid open the window then leaned out and shouted, Josie, up here!

      Don’t you dare, I warned, trying to pull him away from the window.

      Josie, my friend here wants to know if--

      I yanked him away from the window and tossed him across his bed. She stood on the lawn below looking up, perplexed. Gene’s dog was barking downstairs and I could hear his mother running the vacuum cleaner. Gene was laughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath.

      I edged to the window and watched her bend over and pet Gene’s dog. Then she stood up and brushed the hair out of her face. His love knows no boundaries! Gene suddenly shouted out. She looked up at the open window. I froze in place. We looked at each other for a moment, then exchanged smiles; and she was gone, disappearing into her house.

      You are going to die, I announced angrily, jumping on Gene and wrestling him to the floor.

      Boys! Boys! his mother called out from the hallway. Don’t break anything in there, she demanded, opening the door to his bedroom. What are you two doing?

      Mom…mom, Sean has gone positively mad from unrequited love, Gene said in an affected tone of voice. All is lost.

      I punched him and said over my shoulder as I released the headlock I had him in, We’re just fooling around, Mrs.--

      Mom, save me from this love starved maniac! Gene pleaded.

      It must be Josie again, she sighed, closing the door.

      What did she mean by that? I wanted to know, pushing Gene away from me.

      Sean, like you’re the first one to have a thing for Josie, Gene said, laughing. Get in line, pal.

      It was not until late November that I finally got to have an extended conversation with Josie. Up to that point in time I had only exchanged greetings and small talk, with a lot of smiling to go along with it. I was determined to make up for lost time.

      Our small town had a new Community Center, with a large hall that doubled as a gym during the day and dance floor at night. As I remember it, I believe it was just before Thanksgiving. The town fathers had sprung for a live band to play for us restless teenagers. Activities, that’s what kids need, so said the Community Center director, a man who had just been hired to coordinate the town’s civic recreational direction. Something like that.

      I was going to be fourteen in December. My dancing career included maybe three previous dances, two of which centered around learning a box step waltz without crippling my dance partner. Rock and Roll dancing would alleviate that problem however. Being detached from your dance partner at least eliminated the need for First Aid after the song finished.

      Slow dancing, of course, was a desirable thing. Our version was more or less like a wrestling hold whereupon you hoped to snuggle up to a female as close as possible without being accused of groping. To this point, I had only done it once before and that was in my basement, while the 45 spun on the turntable and a crackling, scratchy rendition of a Motown favorite played. My dance partner had been a friend of my older sister’s, who like to flirt with me or take pity on me, whatever I chose to believe.

      She had introduced me to the finer aspects of slow dancing as we clutched each other and she slowly but inexorably pulled me tighter until I could feel her breasts make contact with my chest. An electric thrill stole through my body when my hands slipped past her bra in their descent downward towards her waist. Go with the music, she whispered in my ear and I could feel just how soft her hair felt against my face, as I grew intoxicated on the smell of her shampoo. A raging erection had made itself known in my jeans, poking, trying to say hello.

      Gross me out! my sister called out from the stairs, where she stood aghast after discovering her best friend dancing with her uncool little brother.

      That ended that. My dance lesson was over. We unclenched and she was gone, leaving me standing there looking stupid.

      Who can forget the initial feeling when you walk into a dance? What emotion is that exactly? You’re excited. Charged. You hear the music playing. Semi-darkness awaits you as you open the door. Rhythmic adrenaline, at least that’s what a friend of mine used to call it. He was a musician or at least he could play an instrument, the guitar to be precise, so his cosmic, slightly whimsical analysis of the situation can be forgiven.

      Hormones can’t be overlooked. Animals in the wild have mating calls or, at times, screeches. This summons the other and it all begins. We Homo sapiens like to dress it up a bit, make it more palatable. It’s still the same thing though.

      There I was. Gene and I had made our grand entrance. No one noticed of course. It was dark, like I said. A band with some local renown was playing up on stage. They were known for being able to play (read duplicate) any popular song and the audience wouldn’t know the difference. It was a dubious distinction but they were nevertheless popular.

      We scanned the territory, letting our eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. It was crowded. The Recreation Director had scored a hit with this idea. The youth of our town were easily manipulated. Spike the punch with saltpeter and tranquilizers and the proverbial teenage problem would be solved.

      I hadn’t expected it. Truly. Somehow I reasoned that Josie just wouldn’t be participating in what the rest of us did. In fact, there was another girl that had slipped onto my radar screen. She was in my math class. We had shared equation theories on several occasions. By mutual consent we had agreed to study together and you know what that really meant. Geometry my ass.

      However, there she was. Tight slacks. Angora Sweater. Hair pulled back in a pony tail. Bass Weejuns. Right out of a catalogue.

      Look who is here, Gene sang out, laughing. Could this be the night?

      Screw you, I said nastily. I’m looking for another chick, I said boastfully.

      Sure you are, he countered, smirking. Better say your Hail Mary’s.

      You’re a riot, I muttered, looking around the room, as if I might be indifferent to the female form not twenty feet away, my omnipresent muse, as it were.

      Josie was talking to another girl. They were bookends of sorts. Catholic girls, I surmised.

      Check this out, Gene announced, and with that he was off to ask a girl to dance. I could see him doing his version of the latest dances with a girl from our homeroom. She was tall and pretty and (okay) stacked. With her back turned to me, Gene raised his eyebrows and grinned. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he looked perfectly uncoordinated as he flinched this way and that, doing his facsimile of an American Bandstand reject.

      It happened right about then. I was scanning the room, searching. My eyes landed on Josie. She looked up and waved. Waved. I checked on either side of me to make sure she wasn’t sending her wave off in another person’s direction. Then I waved back.

      Magic happens this way. Doesn’t it? Divine providence perhaps, or so it would seem to us mere mortals.

      Josie motioned for me to come over. Now I didn’t want to misinterpret her signal. Had it been a summons? She had indeed used her index finger. She was smiling.

      Aren’t you Gene’s friend? she asked me when I got close enough.

      Gene who? I joked, smiling, trying to sound composed, suave even.

      She laughed and then introduced her friend. I promptly forgot her friend’s name because I was zeroing in on the fact that Josie knew my name. How? I couldn’t remember ever offering it.

      Do you like this band? she asked me, leaning closer

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