In a tattered journal given to me by one of my clients, I came across the following account which you may find of special interest. It was clearly written describing a time when my visitor was little more than an infant. You will see that we’ve named him Billy junior, to help keep things straight. I would guess that the diary entries are from the late 1950’s, judging by the content and condition of the journal. This episode is provided free to give you a taste. If you’d like to enjoy other episodes be sure to sign up for my Patreon at the Seahorse Level.
I do find it irritating when some of the men go on about the war they fought in France. You’d think the French girls were entirely devoid of Christian morals. Worse, the men seem to think this somehow attractive.
I find it deplorable and when Bill said he was thinking about joining up with this business in Korea, I put a stop to it before he could get that particular ball rolling Magdalene told me about her brother and the disgusting things he’d got up to over there. Seoul is a hive of iniquity, of course, but it’s Japan that seems to bring out the very worst in the men. I really don’t see what it is that they find so attractive about these foreign girls, though I’ve heard they do everything, even on the first date. But that’s just me, I suppose. Someone has to uphold American values in these modern times.
I believe in apple pie, Chevy’s and the ball game. And while Bill’s out watching the game with several of his friends, I guarantee you I’ll be have a ball game of my own with exactly whoever I please. These long skirts cover a multitude of sins, I assure you.
Just the other weekend I packed a nice lunch for Bill, and threw in a couple of beers, for him and the boys, who were off to watch a ball game in a neighboring town. It’s only forty minutes drive but you’d think they were going to the other end of the country.
As he drove off, the hood down, the five of them were laughing and joking. I had some laundry to do, and I’ve never liked the game myself.
“Don’t wait up,” shouted Bill, with a wave. Honestly, you’d think I was his mother. By the time the dust had settled and the car had disappeared I walked back inside our rancher, and poured a large gin. It was a quiet Saturday morning and I had no plans for the day at all, beyond the washing. I sipped my drink, a little lemon added to it.
Continue reading “The Stories Your Mother Never Told You – Part 10.”