This fall, Dad bought our friend Steve's 72 International Travelall. He had been driving the 74 Chrysler Town and Country wagon since I arrived in June of 84, but he was ready for something else. He sold the Chrysler to his friend Bill. Bill returned to the area with his family after living outside of Texas for a few years.
Dad liked the Travelall. It was a very cool vehicle. It had some issues with the front end, but when you live on the island, you can live with discrepancies. The way you handle them, too, is very different from how it would be done anywhere else. The mounting bracket on the Chrysler, where the steering box was mounted, rusted out, and the whole steering column would suddenly convulse, making it feel like the car body was going in one direction while the engine and frame were going in another. Dad chased down Claude Brown, one of the County Constables, who also ran a side welding business and had a mobile welding rig. They pulled over on the side of the road, and Claude welded the steering box to the frame. Done.
I learned that the Travelall had a posi rear end. One Saturday, Harry, Steve, Glenn, and I were all at Dad's house visiting and playing darts. Port Aransas was mostly all open drainage ditches, so the mosquitoes had a place to spawn. The driveway was full of vehicles. Harry was heading home when he backed his Ford pickup into the drainage ditch off the driveway. There was no way he was getting out on his own.
Dad told him he could easily pull him out with the International. He pulled out of the driveway and smoked the tires. Back and forth in front of the house on Oleander. Dad kept flooring that old International, and in turn, because of those welded spider gears, laid two equal strips of rubber on the ground. Harry, standing out there with a rope tied to his truck, hoping that THIS time, Joe would line up to the rope and pull him out, preferably before the police arrived. The Cop Shop was only about 5 blocks away, and I would bet real money that they could hear the tire squeal from there.
Harry protested every time and was yelling at Dad to cut it out. Of course, that just made him do it more. He was burning the tires so much that at times, you could not see most of the vehicles out front. I imagined that if you could see this from the sky, it might appear that a small commuter jet had crashed here. This went on for about 20 minutes, and the more he did it, the funnier it got. Finally, he was done tormenting Harry and pulled him out of the ditch.
On the first Friday in December, we were invited to a family camp that Brooke's boyfriend, Allen, hosted. Dee, the kids, and I all went. We got there late Friday night and hung out on Saturday. It was nice to get off the island and do something different. Life in Port Aransas is otherwise, a complete state of mind and being. I would be lying if I said I remembered much of it.
Saturday night was a night to remember. We were surprised when Dad showed up in the International Travellall. With him, he had Brooke's friend Bella, from Connecticut, and her boyfriend. They flew down to South Texas to surprise Brooke. Dad had a pretty good buzz, but that was probably not the whole reason Bella and her boyfriend just about fell on the ground and kissed it when they got out of the vehicle.
There was a control arm bushing issue with the Travelall, and a sticking caliper issue, too. Either one would not be too big a deal. Together, they were this crazy wildcard of physics in which, at high speeds, like those Dad drove there at, when you stepped on the brakes, nothing would happen until the sticky caliper suddenly grabbed hard. Then, the sloppy control arm bushings caused the vehicle to veer hard to the left, and then, in the next moment, you were driving through a field. Dad, then, would wrestle with the steering wheel and put the vehicle back on the road until the next time it became necessary to touch the brake pedal again. Honestly, I was surprised they had not driven through someone's barn on the way here.
I laughed so hard as they told us the story of their blindly taking a cab to Port Aransas from Corpus, only to take this death-defying ride out here to surprise Brooke. We did not have a normal father. Our Dad was fun, unpredictable, embarrassing at times, reckless and dangerous at times, but he also had a heart of gold. Most people would probably have scoffed at me for finding humor in this, but it was what it was like to know Dad. Burying Harry's truck in the sand last spring. The nuclear response was his strength. It always caught people by surprise.
It was why people did not cross him. They could not imagine how their challenge would be met, so they just made sure not to challenge him. This was his strategy. It kept the peace in a world where peace could otherwise have encountered complications. I did not fully understand it until years later, when he seemed decades older, although only 8 years had passed. In 93, the Clint Eastwood film The Unforgiven showed a more realistic side of holding peace with strength, even though time had just about erased the threat. The last scene, where William Munny from Texas tells them all not to follow him, riding on the coattails of his reputation as a younger man. It was, in effect, the primal example of return on investment: give a lot early on so you can coast later.
Bella and her boyfriend ended up staying for weeks. At first, at the Best Western at the beach on Sand Castle Drive, and later, with Dad and Brooke, to save whatever money they had left. Dee and I forged on with a focus on the rest of the holiday season.
As we approached the holiday, Dee's other sister, Lee, came down from Dallas. She was a single, professional woman who showered the kids with gifts of clothing and toys. She was very nice. She stayed with her mom on the island during her visit.
Dee and I were talking. Although Dee really appreciated her sister's kindness, she always felt that she was almost desperate to accept her generosity. For the last 12 years, Dee had always been in need of something, but since last year, she had established herself as a valued member of the Beach Crew and was building a career with her municipal employer. That may not seem like much at face value, but it is significant when you live on an island in the Gulf of Mexico. Here, the industries were fishing, tourism, and small-shop retail, and let's not forget mowing lawns. She was on her feet as a person and a mother.
For once, Dee wanted to just enjoy her sister without feeling like she needed the material boost that came with her visits. Lee never complained or made comments. She did this because she loved her sister, nephews, and niece. I told Dee that I was pretty sure I could ride over to Ann's house and get a small loan we could pay back the following week when we got paid. She liked the idea.
Dee thought it would be good for me to bring Lee the money, as she did not want to offend or hurt her sister in any way. I went over to her mom's house and met Lee at the door. I told her that we wanted to thank her for what she did, and I hoped she would not be offended if we gave her the money she spent on the kids. She just stood there and looked at me for a moment. "Can I have a hug?" she asked. We hugged. "All these years, I watched my sister struggle to get by with her deadbeat ex. It is so nice to see that she is with someone who really does love her and the kids."
That night, I sat up late with all three kids. They talked and talked about anything and everything. During my drinking days, it definitely helped at times like this. Alcohol allowed me to be relaxed and free. You could tell they really loved this version of me, and they took turns sharing stories and thoughts with me. They asked questions, and we laughed and listened to music.
This was a good thing, too, because their father, who lived in the trailer they all shared, had decided to move off the island and back up to San Antonio. He never did much with them, really. His children were amazing, but he was more focused on partying and seeing what he could score on the beach.
His departure from the island created this unspoken option. Dee's home, which she had paid for, was now open. She did not need to stay with me on Ruthie Lane. She had options. Of course, I felt that we were only getting better: the money for Lee, the house, the car, my growing relationship with the kids. But what I refused to look at was us. Our reason for staying together still lacked substance. Somewhere in my subconscious, I was banking a list of pros and cons. Although I could not see it, it was there.
There was a knock on the door just before Christmas. It was Dad. Dee and the kids had gone to bed. Dad and I sat up for hours and talked like we had not in what seemed like forever. It was wonderful. I really missed this. This was us. He talked about being a kid in the 1950s, his parents, and so much more. We talked about work, music, and family. Everything was so natural. Everything was right.
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