“How so?” asked Macy.
“Look at his business dealings. He’s a Texas oilman, right? So, somebody want to tell me how he managed to run three separate oil companies into the ground? I mean, it’s oil. You go somewhere in Texas, you stick a pipe in the ground, and you make a fortune. Everybody wants to buy the stuff, and he can’t figure it out on three separate tries. Whatever money he has actually made on his own came from his time with the Texas Rangers, when he was the General Manager. Again, somebody want to tell me how that is important? Nobody cares about the front office. The coach is the important guy! He wasn’t even that important in the front office. He was a minority owner who looked good schmoozing.”
The others all looked at each other, not quite sure how to respond. I kept going. “Take a look at his record in Texas. Texas is one of the weakest governorships in the nation. The governor there is practically a figurehead for the bureaucracy and the various department heads. Again, not an impressive record. Overall, the man strikes me as being a mile wide and an inch deep.”
“And you think John McCain would be better?” asked Millie.
At that, I simply threw my hands up and shrugged. “That one I can’t answer. Is this a case of the devil you know versus the devil you don’t? McCain has a reputation for being hotheaded and a maverick. Is that somebody we want as President? I just don’t know. I do know, however, that this ain’t as cut and dry as everybody tells me.”
We ended the meeting about where we started, with my refusing to support George Bush, or anybody else for that matter. They weren’t happy with me, but I think they understood me. I just tried to keep my sanity and do my job and be a father. The twins were now sophomores at Hereford High and wanted to date. Their mother and I, however, were less than sympathetic, and the screams of outrage from the fruits of our loins were deafening! They wouldn’t turn 16 until the summer, which meant that they would miss all the dances and parties and etcetera, etcetera, etcetera! We weren’t so worried about the dances and parties, but were terrified of the etcetera! What if they met guys like… me!? Suddenly my misspent youth was coming back to haunt me, in spades!
We relented in May, and allowed the girls to go to the Junior-Senior Prom. Both girls had been asked by juniors, who were just two of the numerous young men sniffing around the house all year. This wasn’t an unexpected turn of events. The twins had turned out as beautiful as their mother, and despite my considerable genetic height advantage, neither one of them seemed to be any taller. In fact, they were probably the shortest cheerleaders in school. Marilyn spent two weeks fretting and warning the girls about the perils of older boys. I decided on an approach that was more… practical.
The twins were too young for prom dresses, so Marilyn and Tessa went out with them and found some very nice cocktail length dresses. If there had been any thought that the two dresses would be somewhat demure, it totally failed. Thirty years ago I would have been after the two of them for a threesome! Marilyn insisted that the girls could only go as a double date. I made my plans accordingly.
The schedule was that the two young men, one Joseph Mangione and one Robert Smithson, would be at the house at 6:30, take the girls to dinner, and then from dinner go to the Prom. Unbeknownst to my daughters, I had my security team do a quick investigation on the boys and their families, which simply proved I was as paranoid as my brother. They were all amazingly normal and boring — and had never been in any trouble. Somehow I wasn’t reassured.
The girls were driving the pair of us crazy that evening, dressing too early, then changing into sweats, then changing back, and meanwhile running back and forth between their bedroom and ours. I was decidedly not a welcome guest, and was sent off to my office, which was fine with me. Marilyn was hard at work toning down their makeup and perfume plans. By 6:15, the back and forth now included the front door and windows, in a triangular pattern. I wondered if my impending arrival at a girl’s door had ever occasioned this much anxiety. I certainly hoped so, if simply so I could share the misery.
An excited squeal announced the impending arrival. I hurried to my preplanned position, in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table. I had let Marilyn in on my plans enough to know she was to bring the boys into the kitchen, so I could meet them.
“Don’t you think that’s a little too much?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. It’s almost certainly going to be harmless. Well, relatively harmless. I mean, probably. There’s really going to be very little danger. Not much, anyway. Actually, you’ll probably need to have the first aid kit ready,” I replied.
“I don’t want to know!”
I heard Marilyn call Holly away from the front door and into the living room. When the doorbell rang, Marilyn went to the door to answer it, and I went to the kitchen island and pulled my preparations out. From the living room, I heard Marilyn inviting the young men in, a mumbled reply, and a couple of high pitched squeals. Then I heard Marilyn say, “Well, before you all go, we’re going to take a few pictures, but I think your father wanted to talk to Joseph and Robert first.”
“Mom!” sounded from both the girls.
“Your father’s bark is much worse than his bite. He’s in the kitchen. I’ll be back when I find the camera.” Marilyn moved away, and the twins came around the corner with two tall and gangly young men wearing bad tuxedos in tow.
“Dad, this is…” Molly started, but stopped in midsentence, stopping dead in her tracks and causing a pileup in the entrance.
“What’s wrong… Dad, what are you doing?!” squealed Holly. She and the two boys were all staring at me, sitting at the kitchen table.
What really had their attention, however, was what was on the table. I had spread out a few old newspapers and had my Colt 1911A1 on it, partially disassembled, along with a box of ammunition, a spare magazine, and the appropriate cleaning supplies. As they stared, I finished disassembling the pistol, and then stood up. “Hi, fellows, nice to meet you. Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk.” The two boys had an appropriately terrified look in their eyes as I shook their hands and directed them to seats.
“Daddy! What are you doing!?” gasped out Holly.
“I was at the range earlier. I always clean my gun afterwards, you know that.”
“MOM!” yelled Molly, scurrying off towards our bedroom. Holly squealed in outrage and followed her.
That left the two boys staring at me as I ran a cleaning cloth over my pistol. “It’s very important to take care of a pistol. I’ve had this one since I was just a little bit older than you fellows. I had to kill a man with this gun once. I had to clean it after that, too.” The two looked at each other nervously. I picked up the box of ammunition. “You boys ever see what happens when Federal Hydra-Shoks hit a target? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself! I mean, when it goes in, it makes a hole about so big…” I made a small circle with my fingers. “But then the head flattens out, like a mushroom, and when it comes out the other side, it’s about this big!” I held my hands about a foot apart or more.
I ran out of time then, as Marilyn came into the kitchen, followed by the twins, both of whom were gesticulating, complaining, and glowering at me. Marilyn said, “See, nothing is happening. Your father is simply cleaning his pistol. You’ve seen him do that dozens of times. Now, let’s get some photos.”
“Sounds good! I’m sure that tonight is going to be a night that all four of you will remember.” Marilyn gave me the evil eye when I said that, but I just smiled innocently.