Ready Freddie

Mon Sept 21, 1992

It's eerily quiet in the Tech Building. The orientations have come and gone, the incoming herd is, well, about halfway impressive as usual, by now he can subconsciously spot the ones that will be around next term. At least this time around he hasn't picked out anyone as overtly flaky as they've had in his time there, but then, first impressions are often like that.

It all starts on Wednesday 8 am, he'll get here by 7:15, to keep ahead of the unexpected. Nick is happy to keep things going as they always have, as he's come to know and respect, and so is their little corner of the school. He's still coming to terms with being on his side of that desk in an official capacity. A professional. Working retail makes you somewhat professional, this is a real professional, except not the suit-wearing kind, but what used to be khakis and collared shirts, now jeans and collared shirts. They had issued engraved name tags to all the faculty and staff that will be worn for the first couple of weeks of fall term.

Fall. It's the first day of Autumn.

Nick has his little boombox tuned to 106 that he can get thanks to an old TV antenna on the roof whose twin-lead feedline made its way to his office one day, when the building was especially desolate, in turn, thanks to finding the wire fish to get it rerouted through the drop-ceiling with a few climbs of the ladder. Sue had wondered into the adjoining classroom while he was up there; his ears felt warm at first until she just smiled and glowed that he was keeping busy before asking if he'd seen Alfred.

The boombox hasn't left the building since he was a student. 

Student. Recent days had granted a lot of time to ponder how much he still has to learn, about technology, radio, life. Things with Noreen never seemed so certain, well, at least emotionally, but he had no idea if he needed to buy a ring at some point, if she wanted to keep her independence and grant him his, he had no desire to be with anyone else, but still.

Sometimes Nick packs a lunch, his space was comfy and generally private, at least for now. He had discovered the joy of freezing a sammich the night before then if he let it thaw in his desk it was perfectly crisp by the time he needed it most. Even if he ended up at the cafeteria or snack bar he could just pop it in the staff fridge. Perfect crime. The fridge at home has the variety pack of lunch meats, this time its pimento loaf and old-fashioned loaf. Was there ever a time way back when it was just loaf? Then a slice of Colby Jack and a stripe of yellow mustard. Much better than pink mustard.

He had been tempted to dig out an old portable TV he'd spotted at a garage sale during a bike that time, when he had bee-lined home to grab fifteen bucks, all the time reasoning whether it's better to ride back then try to walk with his bike, then duh, it would fit in an old backpack, but does he have time to find the backpack? Someone might grab it before he can get back.

Opting to just jump in the car for the five block trip he claims his prize, after the lady assured him she could have set it back for a while, if he'd just asked, oh well. The tag said "works" but it's seen better days. The VHF knob is missing and it has no AC power cord. He got it onto the bench and found an old AC lamp cord with plug in a box of wires, then used pliers to twist the leads into the male fins that would accept the original plug, then took a breath and turned away to power it up.

In the absence of a devastating explosion he saw the little monochrome screen come to life with tiny pin-prick snowflakes. It lives. After finagling with the telescopic antenna and employing some channel-locks to kerchunk it to the UHF selector, he was able to get a decent copy on the closest signal, a PBS station running Sesame Street on a nice afternoon.

Nick had not really gotten much use out of that little guy, it would be OK to have it in his office but seemed a bit over the line, even if he kept it secret. Not much on to watch during weekdays anyhow. It would have been fun to have it in the tent recently, but they were with a group and, well, seems they had far better things to do there in the tent.

Their time alone is never a guarantee and deep down that was comforting.

He consumes his sandwich while playing solitaire on the Model 25 and its 14 inch monitor. He keeps the settings as loose as possible: unlimited deals, one card at a time, undo. The idea is to beat it each deal if at all possible, re-deal when needed, not just see how far he can get three cards at a time.

He had been through a couple redeals and was crumpling up a HoHo wrapper when someone appears at his door holding her shoes in a bid to sneak in.

Before Nick even comprehends her identity Noreen warns in a gravely patter, "Don't get near me yet." She looks tired but well presented as he's ever seen. Her voice is kinda hot this way unfortunately.

"Are you contagious?" 

"Fever has been down since last night but let's not chance it babe. Good to see you finally."

"Glad you're on your feet, you enjoy the ambush don't you?"

"Best part of the day so far and you know it."

"So you're gonna hit your meetings?"

"Yeah I'll try to keep isolated. Anything going on here?"

"Trying to beat this hand," nodding toward the screen.

She looks toward the hallway and lowers her voice, "Well don't beat anything else, once I fight this bug off you'll be fighting me off." She always seems to know how to make the point with her eyes and he has to look away.

"I'll be sure to eat my wheaties." He manages to glance back at her and she quickly hitches an eyebrow and giggles, no need to say what she's thinking.

"Well, I'm gonna go camp out," as she slips her flats back on.

"Stop by later and tell me how it goes."

"I'll at least try to call. Behave." With a wink she darts out of view, impish as ever.

At home he had gotten the Icom situated, inconspicuously grounded to the bathroom cold water feed and ready to transmit, been practicing with the keyer and paddle and starting to prefer it over a straight key. Perfectionists are always panged at the slightest deviation from how things should be, and the keyer made such nice characters and he could always tell those on the air who use one, that's how he wanted to come across, except, without all the little farts and shits that plague when he practices. He doesn't even know his call sign yet.

Also hitting is the fact that he didn't know for sure what form his call sign would take or which license he would have, he forgot to ask on Saturday, but at least he knew what all he could do with it. Goody was eager to get onto the repeaters and check into nets, but Nick just wanted to get onto the big bands. He might try the 28 MHz segment where he can do sideband at least and not have to fumble with code right away. And then there are plenty of beginners in that patch of 7 MHz that would find him a mutual sound for sore ears for the awkward debut with code.

Certain things were finally also making sense, regarding their alone time. Carnality had always seemed detached of purpose, however, the paved road that gets you to the Promised Land was not always a road, sometimes it really did just magically appear before you, or else, maybe you get transported, magically, either way, it's magic.

The last time he hung out with Noreen was last Thursday night, they just heated some stuff up in her old microwave and ate, she was slightly distant, at the time he thought she had her mind in the upcoming quarter term, but in retrospect she was probably in the first stages of infection, or at least susceptible to it, he had never seen her so focused, nearly consumed. She hadn't been able to straighten up her space as she normally would and he knew better than to offer to help.

They sat next to each other and she couldn't seem to find anything to watch so it landed on Wheel and Jeopardy then reruns. She leaned on him, dozed off, twitched a few times then out of nowhere started feeling his groin. He waited for what seemed an eternal two and a half minutes to start feeling around on her side but she didn't seem to react, keeping her face out of view. She ended up digging him out of the jeans he'd worn to work, pulled up his shirt and finished him off manually onto his bare belly then fished out one of the towels she kept stashed for this kind of situation.

She started to put him back together, then he completed that task and then once again got comfy on his arm. 

"I guess I owe you one then?" He finally asked.

"Can I just doze off a few more times before you go?"

And so that was their evening, bless her heart.

He would be happy with just these snacks, but it seems with a woman things will often go the long yard and she'll take you where you never could have imagined, the full course meal, just gotta go with the moment. 

Be ready.

Ready Freddie. Crazy Lil’ Thing Called Love (yeah-yeah).

Fireworks at Hector's

Monday July 4, 1988

Nick and Tim head toward the fishing pond at good ol' Happy Hector's.

"So did you miss me during the fireworks?" Tim asks in a leading tone, having been a tad preoccupied all morning, and not just his normal fidgety always-on-the-move wannabe jock pain in the ass kind of thing.

"Figured you'd found a group of peers with which to hang."

"Not exactly. Well, did you see me take a walk with Pam?"

Nick nearly stops walking. "Do I want to know where this is going?"

"You don't have a choice."

Nick just sighs, the sun shines but he clouds up inside.

"So...we both had to go the the restrooms at the same time, or she said she did, who knows, and she kept making comments, like how someone's bratwurst still looked good even though she just ate, and kept asking stuff, if I was seeing anyone...mentioned she's just now starting to bounce back after the divorce, could use some company..."

They get to the gate for the ponds which is unlocked. Since Tim is 18 they have no cause to be hassled by the old fart who likes to badger everyone, unless they were to get too close to bridge end where all dem bigguns seem to be, so they head to the sweet spot where you can cast that way and not draw fire.

Nick thinks back to noticing the shape of the fly swatter in the popup camper. Far as he can remember there was always the same all-plastic swatter in the camper with a crack in it, but it still worked and he liked to crack at flies with it as a boy and then stare at it just to wonder why it's shaped the way it is, who designed it?

They had pulled in to Hectors Friday night and would head out later today.

Tim starts back in, "She mentions she doesn't really care for fireworks, they hurt her head, but I'd be welcome to stop by her camper."

Nick is full of forebode. "So this is why you hit the shower?"

"Hey I felt grimy."

"Your FACE is grimy."

A man and his grandsons wander up and ask about the fishing and so the boys offer some observations, then as soon as they are clear, 

"All I had to do was play it cool till most of you's were out in the field then, did ya notice how her door is facing the woods back thee?"

"How convenient." Nick had watched the fireworks with his folks, who seemed closer than usual lately, carnality just seemed plain carnal. Nick had gone through a dull ache of a funk during the initial heat wave and came out hungry for meaning and finding very little, a season of change all around but he was some fly in amber.

"Convenient ain't the word for it. So she has the windows open, blinds closed, smells nice, she had washed up too."

It was at this point where the mixed sentiments really started to duke it out, one one hand, she was just a bit older than their mom, on the other hand....

"She leads me inside with a smile, kisses me, and it's like the usual with a girl except...well older women are softer, but it's all there, they like the same stuff. She had excused herself from the fireworks with everyone, I think they really do mess with her head, so we had some time, let's just say she took matters into her hands and got stuff all over her neck and chest." Nick hadn't noticed that Pam was especially well endowed upstairs but this is more, maybe Huey Lewis said best, she's Heart and Soul, so he pictured a decent tanlined (and droopy) set of freckled Cs and left it at that, really didn't care to picture any further embellishments, as it were.

Nick just stares out at his bobber, which he'd gladly change places with, jumping in vain in the light breeze, it was most likely too bright and warm to get a bite but here they are. Might drag for cats next, should have thought of that sooner, but this was just too much.

"SO we laid there for a bit, talked some, she kept messing with it, she had thought it through - remember that, son, older women always have a plan."

"I don't think I'll forget this anytime soon, don't worry."

"She wanted to build it up again, so she could, you know, ride into the sunset."

Nick saw no point in further resistance. "So she looks good naked?"

"Well the lights were down of course but she really does...enchanting..those dark eyes." Tim kinda stares into the shimmering water through his aviators. Nick had just thought of her as one of the folks who sits around the campfire with the adults and hadn't really noticed except she seemed to have tan legs in those capris. 

"So how long did you stick around?"

"Well we just chilled out till most folks were settled in then I slipped along the trees and over to the playground to look at the stars, tried to get her to join me but she was too tired - wink wink"

"Yeah tired of YOUR ass."

"Hey raise your hand if you got it last night? Anyone? Yeah, thought so."

"I take it Mom hasn't caught on? I don't wanna be around..."

"Hey, I said I hung out and then went to the playground to think about life, that was that."

Nick got a missed nibble on the tightline and Tim never wet a hook. 

"But...Pam even came to the little church thing with us yesterday."

Tim takes a pause, "Yeah I was there too remember?"

"Right but we, well, we have to be there, she was there...willingly."

"What's that got to do with it?"

Nick didn't know. "I didn't think, you know, adults, played around."

"Oh they do."

"Can she get pregnant?" Nick was startled at himself for asking this. 

Tim just kinda chuckled, "Nope, she made it clear early on that wasn't possible. She didn't seem to want to talk about her kids, they are about our age but this was her getaway."

"Hmm." Nick's thoughts finally caught up with the fact that this strange fantasy is now a familiar, and somewhat welcoming, reality and fact.

Also welcoming, at first, was some relief of cloud cover was now looking grayer and they could smell rain, so Nick bundled up and they head back toward camp, but Nick needed to process this, so he hurries to a vacant playground tile to wait it out.

To his knowledge Tim has seen some action here and there but this was probably the big one, right before he hits boot camp in a few days. The strangest thing about this is how this could have been hidden, or how most stories like this are plain full of shit, this was an honest account of an honest encounter that could have only taken place when the rest of the world was out of earshot staring up at a cloudless summer sky.

Right as the rain starts to let up some kids end up tile hopping and end up at the other end of his, they are wet and smelly so he beelines to a shelter, but by now it's time to re-enter the prime timeline.

It's not time to tear down yet so Tim heads to the pool and Nick jumps on the bike, at first avoiding Pam's site but he feels he needs to face this. He makes the approach and his feet almost forget where the pedals are. He's hoping she stays out of sight but happens to walk around her camper, sees him and smiles, he slows a bit and smiles too, they both know a secret. 

"See you next year, Nick."

Seemingly on autopilot he answers, "See ya."

This was the first time he'd spoken to her since his mom had introduced them at the campfire Friday night. 

He rides away and it hits him, would it be his turn, next year? 

Seems in earlier years, the smell of campfires held a certain mystique, a call to romance, but now, it’s just burning wood. Heh.

At some point Nick asks his brother if he'd gotten her number. "I asked once, she just walked her fingers across my chest and I think brought up the Cards."

Anna Sumption

Sept 1986

It's hot in the Midwest, and dry, and no one has hope in the Cubs. Even on the 2nd day of life at JHS Nick is convinced that he's in good shape with Mr. Heilermann for Physical Science, seems he teaches all but one section of it and the other teacher doesn't care much for freshmen.

Nick had been feeling slightly ill, as if coming down with a mild cold, his mom said it was probably allergies, though he'd never been diagnosed, but a lot had been going on and he'd insisted on wearing socks and a T-shirt that came packaged with some blank cassettes, both of which contained too much polyester to be comfortable, in an effort to cut across the pretentious tendency of folks to dress up at the beginning of the school year.

After after pulling down the screen and asking for help pulling shades and cutting the lights, Heil flips on a slide projector that produces the color image of a rather fashionable young woman, right out of a catalog, moderately made up, intense gaze peering into the middle area of the room with the student desks all surrounded by those black lab tables with the cabinets and gas taps.

Her hair is unnaturally darker at the roots but not by much, color reminds Nick of Golden Grahams cereal. Eyes are that shade between blue and green that you can't define; she belongs to no one but herself, the kind that sings at the youth talent gatherings and you see always talking to the leader types.

The shot is only waist up but there's obviously quite a body involved. After pausing a few seconds to a few reactions here and there, a subdued wolf whistle, approving groans and girls whispering, Heil starts in, "Let me introduce you to Miss Sumption, first name Anna....Anna Sumption."

Into Nick's mind pops Anna Sumptuous but before he can get tempted to say it out loud Fred Bauer pipes up,

"Can I get her number, or...."

"You don't want it. She'll make a fool of you," Heil fires back.

"Wouldn't' be the first time..."

"Nor the last either, alright, listen up - I think you know where I'm going with this, yes I consult with my wife and daughter to find an image that grabs the attention of guys for obvious reasons and the gals for other reasons, someone you might want to talk to, or just look at, or maybe spite, whatever. In science it's easy to take things the wrong way at first, we have to keep asking questions, get past first impressions. You may look at this young lady and assume she's consumed with fashion, or power, or whatever her image may impress upon you. In reality she was hired by JCPenny to help point out how their in-store salon can help bring together a look along with their wardrobe, shoes -

One of the girls coughs, "K-MART" and gets a mixed reaction.

"Yeah yeah, and obviously, modeling is not my game but we all have a purpose in life. Our purpose is to get to the truth, not rely purely on assumptions. Now, we'll see that in science we do have to make assumptions, but they have their place - don't ever forget that."

Heil then flips off the projector light, leaving the fan on, then asks for the lights and shades to revert to their previous state.

Normally Nick doesn't have problems with distraction in a science class but that stock photo brought someone roaring back right when he needed his mind to take notes.

Sometime the previous year a younger couple began appearing in the Sunday morning service. Each week it seemed Irene had grown more interested in them, they're engaged and planning to get married at the church soon, Brad and Jennifer; he is taking business classes at the tech and she is a hairdresser at Pennys. It seemed these two usually got there right before service started, with her walking slightly out in front and holding his arm and then afterward never around longer than a few quick, passing conversations.

One week Nick got to talking to Brad while Jennifer was in the restroom, Nick was already interested in the electronics program at the 'twig' (branch campus, get it?), Brad really liked it there and had played some ball for the college league, not too tall but had a decent build.

It wasn't long before she bounces up to him, grabs his arm, and says something just for him to hear. Brad finishes his sentence as she looks around briefly then glances back at Nick and he swears, out of the corner of his eye she takes a longer look that could be interpreted as approval, right before Brad reaches for a handshake, good to meet you, we're joining her parents for lunch so see you soon.

Not long after that Nick's own folks are ready to head home, so they do, and it's not till after lunch, during the time when Ned and Irene always nap in place, holding down their recliners on a rainy afternoon, Tim is already down the street in someone's basement, Nick closes his bedroom door and bunkers down.

Just what the hell was that look she gave? In that short dress, well put together, as a stylist should be, he hadn't really checked her out, she's almost married and married is out of bounds, but then...almost, so does it count to explore the possibilities, that aren't remotely possible, at least by conventional wisdom, but to the mind's eye, is she fair game, up until their wedding?

When she floated up to Brad as she did that short beige dress knew just what to do, sheeeeeer energeee, it's all a conspiracy against his better conscience. He almost put on his dub of the Van Halen tape to play through the first side with Drop Dead Legs but prefers to keep things quiet in this kind of situation, especially with so many loose ends.

He fishes out a folded paper towel from the mattress and tries starting out with his usual haunts, girls at school who might be accessible if things lined up right, no idea how that would happen, in the shower, on a clandestine couch, someone's shed...in the church...loft? Fantasies are songs; fading in and out of their own world for a few moments at a time.

Then out of nowhere, just as the power curve started to show up, Jennifer floats in with that suspicious look, show me what ya got, the little beige dress is nowhere in sight but her bra, one of those you see when thumbing through a Sears or Penny's catalog and her hose still on, she's glad to take it into her mouth and from there it's fireworks.

Upon awakening Nick wonders if the wedding is for church folks or just friends and family.

This question fades into the first part of the week, until Wednesday when Irene mentions she and Ned are going, they'd like it if he would too, but thankfully Ned is there to intervene and gives him the choice of some seasonal yard work for a few extra bones. 

That's the answer.

Brad and Jennifer take off for their honeymoon then Nick never sees them again nor hears any mention until the following spring, when word gets around that she has run off to Chicago with someone and they are divorcing.

Professor Darling

Sunday Sept 20, 1992

Sometimes nothing hits the spot like a project, or at least a semblance of one, and as an homage of sorts to the Morse Code test he'd just aced, he'd spent most of the last evening then since breakfast fumbling about with a C program to, well, do something with Morse Code.

He thought it would be cool to type a letter and have it beep the code, but it proved beyond reach to set the length of the beeps. But the real itch was to have a library that set the dots and dashes for each letter, each number, each character. Seems this could eventually lead to some kind of wiring with the radio, but for now, he had the VAX to himself so time to play.

Eventually it got to the point of typing in a character, say, B and the printout comes back as,

******************************          **********          **********          **********

which will do nicely for a start.

All through this time, something mentioned in the computer lab while they got him set up, he'd been seen with the English instructor, didn't she date one of the Math professors a couple years ago?  Nick didn't think so, his gal had been away from the campus, otherwise she would have had to avoid him or lightning would have struck much sooner than it had.

Still.

It wouldn't go away.

Falling asleep was difficult last night. He didn't want to call her until later today to rest up and heal up before one of the biggest weeks of her career. Not that it would matter if she'd been seeing someone, but it didn't fit what she'd related, and what had always made sense, all these months, the moments, the times, the laughs. Even the love, he was starting to come to terms with.

He'd found himself increasingly tempted to call her that moment to clear things up, but didn't, turned on the TV, nothing on, turned on the rig, then thought duh, jazz. Maybe she had already fallen asleep to jazz.

For Nick he jazz did its trick and he drifted off in a state of suspended disbelief.

Morning came to the smell of breaky cooking so he wandered downstairs, pecked his mom on the cheek, she asks him what's wrong, he shrugged it off as trying to get a program to work.

"Are you sure honey? Have you talked to our Noreen?"

"Not yet, trying to let her rest."

"She'll be fine, you know that."

He did. Still.

So the rest of the morning he had gotten the C code to do his bidding but it seemed a hollow victory.

So he hops on the bike for the standard tour, then some side streets, but he can't shake it.

Gets home and picks up the cordless, fully charged, then heads out to the front steps and dials her.

After three and a half rings, a sleepy voice, "hello?"

"Hey, how's the patient?"

"Glad to awaken to your voice."

"Sorry, didn't mean -"

"It's okay, *ah-HHEMM*, sorry, actually this thing is running its course, fever down, mostly slept since you called yesterday. Sandy brought some soup, bless her heart."

"Well that's good, will you be ready for the world?"

"I have to be. But will the world be ready for ME?"

"I don't see how it ever will babe."

"We'll make up for the lost weekend, after the term settles into a groove."

"Yeah."

Pause. "Don't sound so enthused there."

"Sorry, just...um...."

"What's going on?"

Pauses. "I have to ask you something."

"Anything."

"Well, when i stopped by the campus yesterday I had to ask the computer lab geeks for a password, and one of them thought you had dated Professor Darling."

All Nick hears is a mix of coughing and laughter.

"You OK?"

"Are you SERIOUS?"

"Yeah one of them thought it was you."

"Oh please, Mr. Marvelous? Have you ever met that guy?"

"No, but...is he the real tall one, kinda like that dude from Carol Burnett?"

"Yeap, he's our own Lyle Wagoner, gets around too, sheesh, I swear that guy tries for everything he can get his hands on..."

"OHHHH...I didn't know, never heard that particular gossip."

"Sweetie it sounds like someone is either pulling your leg or full of shit."

"If not both." Nick feels like an asshole.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know...."

"Babe don't worry about it, it's hilarious, I mean, he is pretty good looking, if you're into that type, but no way, I like my lab geek." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Will you be around tomorrow?"

"Don't know yet, I may have to miss a meeting or two but someone will get me notes.

After a few minutes they wrap up and she vows to sleep, he to ride some more and do whatever sounds good.

Nick takes another bike ride and ponders what to do about Alan, that weird little bearded fellow who brought up the whole Darling thing.

As the cooler breeze sets in he watches some Funniest Home Videos while poking around the VAX filesystem, just because he can.

Ham Exam

Saturday Sept 19, 1992

At a pay phone in a library in a town he's only been to a few times, Noreen finally answers during the fifth ringydingy, in a subdued voice,

"Heh-hello?"

"Hey are you OK?" Nick's concern from not being able to reach her after two attempts this morning is almost alarming.

"Hey, got your message, sorry I didn't answer, slept till about 20 minutes ago and I feel like hell, throat hurts."

"Oh man, can I stop by?"

"NO...I mean, sweetie, I'm a mess and I don't want you getting this."

"But I don't want you sick and by yourself."

She pauses. "Babe you are awesome, but I'll be fine, I just need to rest. How did you do?"

"Passed the three tests, just have to get my ticket in the mail in a few weeks."

She squeaks, "Y........ss," then starts coughing.

"Ok wow you are in rough shape lady."

"Well it serves me right for staying so busy after the trip, I think I need to rest better before classes start up."

"Next year I'll try to remind you."

Brief pause. "Please do. I hate that I couldn't go with you, did Al join you?"

"Yeap, he took 2 of the 3 and will just have the higher bands, wants to get a talkie walkie."

"That's adorable - *cough*." Her voice sounds worse every sentence.

"Are you sure you'll be OK?"

"Yes, someone will either call or stop out to poke me with a stick."

"That's my job."

"Listen you...alright, I'm gonna...um, find a...TV, a tape."

"Go bundle up and watch MST3k."

"Yeah, that or Phantom, with a big mug of tea."

Nick is almost sure she means ...of the Opera but doesn't want to make her explain. "I'll check up on you later."

"Go help your poor mother with housework and hook up your radios."

"Noreen, I love you."

Silence for a good ten seconds. "God my head just left my body. You sure pick your moments don't you?"

"Well I know it now."

"Sick or not I could kick your ass right now. Are you at the library?"

"Yeah a pay phone."

Brief pause. "Man I love that place. You better go on home, slick, lemme rest and I'll deal with you later, OK?"

"Ok get some rest"

"I will, and I love you." She hangs up the phone. Nick has to grin at her means of punctuation. It's now that he consciously realizes her timbre is quite sexy when she's sick and that it's probably not something to mention until she feels better.

He had arrived about 10 till 9, checked the basement, found it empty, so looked around the library, aged as a fine wine, he could but imagine the shorter version of Noreen taking the place in while her dad looked things up in the newspapers they keep in that side room, coin prices, he thought she'd said.

There's a space for kids that's currently empty but it's early yet. Nick checks back downstairs just as Goody wanders in.

"Been here long?"

"Long enough."

They find two men and a woman setting up, Goody's turn to speak as they enter the basement room with the tables, "Looks like the party's just getting started."

After some introductions they are invited to take a seat and they start reviewing applications.

Nick is across from a fellow who gave his name as Bud, who perks up after seeing his name, "Swanson, I used to work traffic with a Swanson -"

"W9EAU by chance?"

Bud just looks at him full on. "Yeah, good ol' Jim, we sure miss him but I get the idea you do even more."

"Sure do, called him Paps."

Bud pauses a second, "Oh Nick, I don't have to tell you - did you get to spend time with him in the shack?"

"I sure did now and then, and I have most of his stuff, books, cards, the RTTY box, Icom 745. OH, but I got a current book from Radio Shack where I used to work, until this character hired me."

Goody just grins.

"OK, wow and you're going for Novice?"

"Actually I'm gonna try the Technician too."

"Well be our guest, no extra charge, did you catch that Phil, another Swanson on the air!"

And so that set the tone, after a couple other folks came in, including a pre-teen boy and his mom they got folks set up with the tests. Three of them were taking the Morse code but would have to go in turn since they only had one tape player and they all agree that the youngest should go first, kid is a 5th grader named Jerry that had gotten the bug at a scouting event.

Nick ends up taking both written tests back to back, acing one and missing one on the other. He admitted changing an answer and it turns out his initial guess was correct, but he had still passed by a mile.

With his typical understated, somewhat waddling gait, Goody turns in his second paper, Nick makes a remark about how fun it is to see his instructor take a test.

Goody is quick as ever, "You know I'm on good terms with the registrar and the ink isn't dry on your diploma yet."

This gets a laugh in the room of course.

Once graded, the instructor is all set for his license and nudges them to "not spare the red ink" when grading Nick's CW.

"Yeah, yeah at least I'm taking it," is all he can muster.

So Nick waits for the headphones and feels ready in between bursts of confusion about Noreen, maybe someone needed her help this morning on short notice, here comes the preamble set of VVV VVV (each one bee-bee-bee-BEEEEE) and then into the call signs, the caller, the one called, signal report, name, and the weather. The caller is Jim, which is a great omen, he's in Atlanta and he's returning to Susan in Hershey, PA. The weather is sunny and 51 degrees. Rig is a Drake running 50 watts into a loop antenna. After having eavesdropped on more than a few exchanges here and there at a more conversational speed he's realized how the entry speed not only feels slow but he's gotten beyond proficiency and could test a bit higher if that would accomplish anything.

He hands his paper to the female examiner and she seems to know what to look for, just taps it with a pen and hands it to Phil, who just nods, who hands it to Bud who just shakes his head, "Kid's a Swanson alright."

Before letting him go they make it clear that he always has a home at their club meetings and events and nets and we hope to hear you on the air soon as your ticket arrives, although the FCC is a few weeks behind thanks to budget cuts.

At that point Nick doesn't know what to do with himself so he hits the campus, walks the trail and wanders up to his building. For whatever reason he fishes out his keys to find the front door unlocked, then finds the computer lab with a few computer lab types getting things ready for next week. Next week, prime time. It's probably best if he doesn't get sick, just hope she's better by Wednesday.

He unlocks one of the adjoining classrooms and turns on a light to find it neatly swept and desolate. Going to feel strange not being in one of those seats. His office is literally a hole in the wall, between two locked doors at the back of two different classrooms and behind a smaller lab that's only accessible from the main hallway. It was probably intended as storage space then fitted for a desk when they realized they needed a tech on staff as the program grew.

Nick unlocks his office to find everything as he'd left it, housekeeping doesn't enter office spaces and staff have to set their trash cans outside to have them emptied or else make other arrangements.

It's about now that inspiration hits, it's a good time to get curious about the mainframe that powers the main lab, the big iron, the VAX. He hadn't logged into his student account in months and that would have to be disabled by now, and he hadn't yet asked for a staff account, he'd been preoccupied with getting the 6809 simulators re-re-upgraded.

He can either mess with it now or at home, might as well be a little of both, so he fires up his newly rebuilt workstation and brings up a command prompt, then stares at it. Seems you can...dec-net? Does the VAX have an...address? Seems the printers go through the VAX but he's never talked to it personally from anything but a dedicated console.

Time to head down the hall and poke his head in the lab. After about 10 minutes of bantering he's back in his office with half a page of notes scribbled on whatever was on top of the recycle bin to try his password, they set it to require a reset so pick a good'un, and he does, and he's free to explore. So he looks around for a few minutes then heads out, evidently on weekends like this the inbound modem line is rarely used so he can go nuts and just take a break every hour or so in case someone else needs it.

After some more pensive driving Nick ends up at his other Alma Mater, the Rad Shack, and before he can get to the desk here comes Bain who talks him into grabbing a burger and brew over at whichever lodge he belongs to.

When Nick finally gets home in the evening he finds his mom at the table and joins her after a peck on the forehead, recounts the day then gets quiet.

"Is there something else, dear?" Irene prods.

"Well...when talking to Noreen on the pay phone I told her I love her, and she said she could kick my butt."

Irene laughs and looks away, "Oh I bet she did."

"Is this some kind of girl thing?"

"It's a thing, you're very lucky to have her and don't you forget it."

"Yeah I could do a lot worse."

"Yes you could. She could do a lot BETTER of course."

Realizing he wasn't about to win he heads upstairs, showers, powers on the IBM and digs out those VAX notes with the modem number.

Stockton

Feb 1987

Curious junior Curt Stockton is in his assigned seat in first period study hall before the bell, drawing some dark, furry creature that's mostly a primate's head, looking upward somewhat wistfully, with duck-bill feet, rope arms and dragging hands. Just as Nick walks up someone asks Curt what the hell that is, he just turns up with sleepy eyes and chants,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

In a compelling low teeth-clenched growl.

"Nifty," the other dude offers, then just as the bell rings Nick remarks that it looks like some some kind of 70s album art and they take their seats, a space apart, with Nick two seats behind Curt alphabetically.

First period study hall fell to Doc Benson this term, balding and tenured, pretty much a sure sentence to everyone who doesn't go to the county voc that will need Government to graduate. The seating chart, as much as possible, staggers the occupants diagonally throughout the room, consensus is that has to do with Sigmund Freud smiling in his grave.

After the bell rings and whosoever will are dismissed to the library, at the click of each minute on the centrally synchronized clocks Stockton would hit it again, subtly,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

Expertly metered to just a 7 or 8 seat radius, and after a couple times it gets a bit bolder as folks chime in,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

You have to keep the tongue against your front plate, and Curt seems to keeps a beat on Benson, who may have already caught on, but for now,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

Definitely getting a bit of support among those just staring at their books, or acting like it, although Katrina “HellKat” Yaeger is red in the face and subtly shaking with hysterics but able to conceal it from the front with her paperback.

Each click brings more and more of a make or break, this can't go on forever, but surely not till the next bell, seems at least half a dozen voices strong now, click,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

Nick takes a look out the window and chimes in from the side of the mouth this time. After scratching and looking back down he stares up at the front wall, as if deep in thought, about ten feet from the front desk but it's pretty clear Benson is scanning for suspects.

Stockton, cool beans in a buzz cut, all this time sitting back thumbing through some car mag, which tends to direct his voice toward the back where it needs to be.

This is crazy, a bit too crazy, Nick struggles to keep his ears from flushing, click,

I got a big BLLLLLB...BLL-BLL-BU-BLLL-BLLLLLB

"Gentlemen I believe choir auditions were a few months ago, but we can arrange a review if you wish." Benson had been perched on the front desk the past couple rounds glaring before he spoke up.

Well crap.

Stockton turns toward the window and issues a sly grin from the side. It's over. Wayyyy too soon.

Shela...umm, Sheila

Fall 1988

Shela...Shela...she like a hurricane

Shela...Shela...she like a ball and chain

The great lost Aerosmith tune that only rockers know would echo in Nick's chamber whenever her name came up in Mythology class.

He'd taken the class even after Irene briefly freaked out thinking it was a religion thing, no, it's to help you think. Well, okay then. It's offered to the upper two classes only.

She - Sheila, spelled differently than the song - is a senior, just another girl at first who he'd never known about until this class.

She never looks his way but is a pro at being Sheila, her job is to talk to other girls about the things most important to birds of a feather.

She's not a brunette or blond but in between, sandy blond, light brown, always combed and freshly cut, her makeup perfect, she blends in except for some reason. Sheila. Eyes are dark, at least from passing glances. His, not hers.

She doesn't usually wear jeans but those other kinds of pants, with the gathers, always coordinated, as if professionally. Maybe that's another part of her job is to be well put together.

She is mild yet attentive, doesn't draw attention to herself, not intentionally, except for his.

She is a senior and therefore in a different plane of existence – not that Nick hasn’t been around older gals, but it’s in her court to pull him into her world.

She is not thin but not chunky, about five foot six. Sheila.

She is probably really close to her mother.

She might play sports but who knows, of course, that would mean she’d have to be well put together in whatever uniform or gear. Sheila.

Over the decades the movie industry has noted that the classical Greek trials and tribulations lend themselves to features, and teachers, so here and there they spend a couple hours a week watching videos, the lights are down, Nick's mind finds itself on a really soft bed with a really soft Sheila, lying on their sides, he's sliding off her gathered pants and whatever lies beneath is at the ready, Sheila, in a quiet, receptive state, C-cup bosoms in a C-cup bra, and once the set-up is all set up his mind wonders how this could ever come to be.

The problem with physical relations is it generally requires social interaction which in turn requires social ambition. These kinds of notions always start at Point B with the Point A and all in between left as an exercise for the reader, as math texts like to say.

This is near the point in the semester that Nick realizes that mythology class is a lot of memorization of names and facts, despite having the coolest teacher in the building, he finishes with a C and life goes on as Sheila fades into the haze.