Running - Part Two

At the age of four the idea of trying to get one of the relatives to adopt me seemed a marvelously simple solution to my extraction as middle gunner in the family chaos and daily riot. We had many relatives although they visited infrequently. It seemed like the families who spread the worst malice and gossip about us would pop in for visits with the most frequency. Typically they would pile out of the family sedan bearing gifts of hand-me-down clothes, broken toys, and other miscellaneous household artifacts. I shied away from these relatives, primarily because the cousins had the Eddie Haskell thing down, benevolent and polite in the company of adults --- cruel, taunting and mean spirited outside of their vision and hearing. Despite how I felt about home, it was clear that there were far worse terrors that I could contend with in those households. I didn’t bring up my adoption idea in their midst, I just couldn't risk the possibility of them taking me up on the offer.

My favorite relatives were Uncle Jake & Aunt Barb from California. He owned a recording studio and reminded me of Dean Martin, with a glass of scotch on the rocks and a smooth “California” coolness about him that was in direct contrast to “Wisconsin Ya-Hey” coolness. Aunt Barb walked in a thick waft of Taboo scent, had dark curly hair ratted and piled a foot upon her head like chocolate frosting over her perfectly outlined red lips. She was Patsy Cline walking and I always looked up at her with the slack mouth of awe and I lived for her attention. They had older children who were heading off to college. It seemed clear to me that they would have a few extra rooms and could use a personality like mine to ease the empty nest syndrome they were facing. I had a well-constructed plan, get ‘em while they were drunk and happy on that magical 4th beer. Not a bottle before or a six-pack after. I decided that a little dancing, singing and being cute was a sure fire way to get their undivided attention and approval - and most importantly, extract an invitation to move on in. I had tried other tactics for attention in the past, such as displaying my unique ability to blow huge spit bubbles and suck them in before they exploded. This did attract huge attention, but then only in a horrified fascinated way with little or no enthusiasm for my remarkable talent.

The fourth beer was looking especially splendid on my Aunt, so I focused my attention upon her as my two younger sisters and I danced and sang for the crowd in our pajamas. Smelling like ivory soap from our recent communal bath which had occurred somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd round of beer for the adults. The bath water sprayed from our swinging wet heads as we swayed and bumped our bottoms and sang "Mama, he treats your daughter mean". The first wave of adult laughter filled the room. My Aunt Barb clapped and laughed and said “What I wouldn’t pay for a show like this every night!” I blurted out "You can have me for FREE!" A second wave of laughter rolled across the room, a bit stronger than the first. Taking this as a good sign I left to pack my suitcase. I returned a short while later and said "I'm ready to go when you are!" as I set the suitcase at her feet. The third and final tsunami wave of laughter rolled around me. Letty gave me THE murderous look, which I purposefully chose not to acknowledge. My Aunt gave me an affectionate wink as she patted the spot next to her on the sofa. I remember thinking "I did it!! I’m OUTTA here!" I raised my eyebrows and gave Letty a self-satisfied smirk as I buried myself into the side of my Aunt Barb. I leaned into that sweet heavy smell of Taboo and closed my eyes listening to her lovely voice and I fell asleep waiting patiently for the party to end and my new life to begin. My last recollections of that evening are the cadence of male and female conversations punctuated by shrieks and guffaws of laughter, and the clicking of beer bottles.

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