Richard Montgomery is about to discover what happens when he enters a wrong number on his phone. As a resident of a one-horse town, Richard has nothing else to do but think about settling down and having children. Everything changes when he accidentally proposes to the wrong woman-or so he thinks. While growing up in Missoula, Montana, Carolyn never imagines she could solve an actual criminal case just by watching television. But when the past comes back to haunt her, Eddie the bandit receives the surprise of his life. When she was just a girl, Marty immigrated from a small village outside Naples, Italy, to Austin, Texas, not realizing that one day, she would hold an incredible secret in silence. Brian has just encountered his final scene on earth, but as he floats above his body, he has no idea that he will return once again to teach his widow about life, love, and eternity. Rocking Chair Confessions presents a collection of short tales populated by eclectic characters who boldly face happy surprises, difficult decisions, and all the spontaneity and valuable lessons that life has to offer
ROCKING CHAIR CONFESSIONS
Tales Told by a Texan—Some Partially True!By Delbert "Delby" PapeiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Delbert "Delby" Pape
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4759-4644-4Contents
Dedications and Rememberances..............................viiForward....................................................ixIntroduction...............................................xiiiHello, Will You Marry Me?..................................1Hook 'Em Horns!............................................7My Baby....................................................11A Greatly Appreciated Gift.................................17That's My Necklace!........................................21My Most Forgettable Alaskan Tour...........................25Zozobra and Ray, or Ramon, or Whatever.....................29Champy.....................................................35Mamma Mia, Pass the Pasta!.................................39Moving On Up...............................................43The Visitor................................................47Where's Jenny?.............................................51Wealthy Lady...............................................55Two-for-One Shot...........................................59I've Been Around...........................................63Can You Give Me an "Amen"!.................................67Germs! Go Away! Come Again Another Day.....................71The Domestic Life..........................................75Haunting Experience........................................79Wheelchair Willy...........................................83The Swirling Fishing Hole..................................87Behold, a New World!.......................................91The Real Truth about Spring Break '87......................95Personal Bio...............................................99
Chapter One
Hello, Will You Marry Me?
Have you ever entered a wrong number on your phone, and it turned out to be the best thing you ever did?
Hello, my name is Richard E. Montgomery. The E stands for Edgar, which I'm not crazy about but am very proud to have, as it was given to me by my father on behalf of his father. In other words, it's a family name from my grandfather. I was not privileged to meet this man, but I heard many entertaining stories about him.... But that's another story for another time.
Now, back in the old days, not everyone had a telephone. My family didn't have one, but we did have access to the town drugstore phone for free (local) calls during store hours. "Old Man Jones" and his wife, Zelda, were the owners of the store, which had a small eating area and a book section called Poppy Emporium. They were the model of good neighbors. If you had an emergency after store hours—and even if you didn't—Old Man Jones would be more than willing to open up the store and let you in to use the phone—but not after 9:00 p.m. or after dark, whichever came first. It was nice that way since they lived in the back part of the store and were almost always home except for once a year when they took a vacation during the latter part of July.
Two years after I graduated from high school, I was working at the drugstore part-time as well as working the family farm the other time. I had been seeing a very attractive girl by the name of Arzeal. I liked her a lot, but I got busy with the two jobs. About three months earlier was our last time together. Previously, I met and had a few dates with Leona, a brunette of about five feet six inches tall and very witty. Leona and Arzeal were friends (not best friends, but still friends), and they lived a few miles out of town, about half a mile apart. The girls had gone to school with each other until their graduation a few months before, and they still visited from time to time.
I was just piddling around the store—you know, straightening things up and wiping down the counters. Ralph came in and ordered a sandwich with all the fixings. We were old buds; we used to play pranks in our school days. I'm sure all the teachers celebrated on my graduation day, and especially when Ralph decided not to return to school the following fall.
Ralph was a year behind me in school, and I hadn't seen him in about that long. When he left school, he had gotten a job on a ranch north of town, close to Amarillo. Wow! And here he was back. We shared story after story of the past year and numerous stories of our high school days while I filled orders for other customers. This was good for me and just as good for Ralph.
Before I knew it, two hours had gone by with the listening customers all glad to see Ralph. They welcomed him back heartily. They even threw in a few stories of their own about us and the locals. We laughed and then all cried when we related about how Jimmy Short had lost his life in just an old friendly fight when he was knocked down by an upper cut from his buddy, Justin Barlow.
Justin had taken a few good licks and then got in a good upper cut and knocked Jimmy backward. That sent him back, and as he was trying to gain his balance step by step, he fell to the ground headfirst. He landed on a board with a long nail protruding from it. We all thought Jimmy was either knocked out or playing possum. He didn't move at first, but then he moaned and began to flop around in the area, after which he lay still—never to move again. Justin was the first to race over to assist him. Then, after a few suggestions, we carried him over to Doc Whithers's place. After we related what had happened, Doc showed us out. Shortly afterward, Doc pronounced him dead. We all just cried for hours.
It seemed such a waste of a life for a little fun and entertainment. A friendly fight was not too uncommon for our little town, at least among the youth. A little innocent fight, and no one was mad. No one blamed Justin. We felt sorry for him more than anything and even more sorry for Jimmy. We eventually got somewhat over it, but we still missed our friend whose life was cut short.
A few weeks later, I was thinking about our little get-together—"story time" with Ralph and me and our friends. I began to think about Leona and Arzeal. For the first time, I began thinking about marriage, settling down, having kids, and raising a family. I was doing well and had saved some money. I also knew the farm was going to be mine. Maybe it's the "out of sight, out of mind" thing with Arzeal since Leona was the most recent girl I had dated. Next thing I knew, I was phoning Leona's home. She answered, but the connection was a little on the staticky side. Through the static, we talked about how much we missed each other. I hinted about marriage, family, and the like and asked her to come into town so I could ask her something. We hung up. There was no question about the "question" I was going to ask her—and she knew it too.
You need to know something about the phones back then. Rural phones had no dials for dialing. A receiver and speaker piece on a box hanging on a wall was it. Each house had its own special ring and was rung by a phone operator. To get the operator, one grabbed a rotary handle on the side of the wall phone and wound it around, sending a ringing signal to the operator. Leona's was two long rings and two short rings, and the drugstore's was three long and one short. Arzeal was three long and three short. I remember a little later the rotary phones coming in style where one could put a finger in an opening with a number from zero through nine, then "rotate" or dial a sequence of numbers. Each house had a series of numbers assigned to it.
Party lines were the norm. A party line was a line shared by two or more households, and if someone was on the phone at one home, those in another home would have to wait until the line was free-unless they wanted to listen in, which of course was considered very inconsiderate. Private lines came later and of course cost more to those who wanted them.
Private lines eventually became the standard as did also the pushbutton phones. Cell phones are the current wave and are here to stay. It took me a while to get to the point to purchase one. I actually got it for Christmas from my grandchildren who are wonderful and a joy in my life. They keep me young and make sure I am familiar with the modern technologies. Why just the other day, they taught me how to use my DVD player to record my favorite movies and shows on disk.... Oh, pardon me, I need to get back to my story.
I was busy cleaning up for closing and waiting for Leona, hoping to be done by the time she was to arrive. Yes, it was almost 6:30—closing time for this one-horse town. (One horse is a figure of speech that means "small"—not much going on or to do.) I had a jar of mustard in my hand and was headed for the small cooler vault in the back when it slipped out of my hand. The reason it slipped was because I was goosed from behind by someone. Reaching for the falling mustard jar, I went down with it and ended up cutting my hand. As I got myself up I could see ... Arzeal? Arzeal was standing there!
"Arzeal! What are you doing here?" was all I could gasp. Well, she giggled and made fun of my clumsiness but also wanted to know if I was hurt and if everything was okay. She seemed overly friendly at the time, which I understood a little later on. After a few minutes more of chitchat, I began to realize why I so enjoyed her company. Her dark eyes, tall build, and cute smile started it all over for me. But I think it was her accentuated southern drawl that was more pronounced than most in this neck of the woods. Finally, she asked me.
Arzeal blurted it out right there. "Well, Richard E. Montgomery, what did you call me down here to ask me?" Oh, brother! I said to myself with surprise. It dawned on me in a flash what had happened. When I had earlier thought I called for Leona, I'd ended up calling Arzeal. I could only theorize that the operator had rung the wrong number or something like that. Well, we pussyfooted around for a while longer, talking about this and that. And it may be hard to accept unless you have experienced it for yourself, but I fell in love with her. Yes, sir, I made up my mind to ask her to marry me. And I did, right then and there. I was never more sure of myself than I was at that moment. And I was never happier than when she began to cry, with "yes" splattered all over her lips.
Well, sir, I told you it would be hard to believe. But it happened just that way, at least as I recall it.
We celebrated our fifty-seventh wedding anniversary last August with our twenty grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren, and our five wonderful children: Peter, Lisa, Andy, Jace, and Ben. Arzeal is now in a rest home close by, and I visit her almost every day, when I'm not sick. I can honestly say I have kept this story of how we got together to myself for all these years, but this Saturday, I'll let the secret escape from my lips to Azeal's ears. I don't think she'll be upset. Besides, we shouldn't keep secrets from each other now, should we? She's the greatest thing that has ever happened to me—and I love her!
Hook 'Em Horns!
How many chances do you give others before you realize you've been taken advantage of? Mary realized this and made a very tough decision which you may or may not approve of.
For the purpose of this narrative, I'll just call myself Mary. I was raised poor but not dirt poor. This was so until I entered junior high (or what is called middle school nowadays). Then Dad got a nice and welcomed promotion with steady—and substantial—pay increases after that. Things changed for me too, and I was voted most likely to succeed in high school. When I graduated in 1983, everything was looking good!
After college graduation, I was employed as a public relations/ marketing assistant executive in Irving, Texas. The title sounds better than the job—there were several of us assistant execs around the company. The company was involved in the construction of swimming pools, pool products, and pool servicing. It did a booming business, and it catered mostly to builders who constructed new homes and to hotels and motels. The company grew fast and so did the bonuses; I was doing well.
In January of 1988, I met Larry Bingman. He was one of the company's three VPs. He was handsome and going places, and I was going with him. Each day I fell deeper in love with him, and we married the following July. Our baby boy was born in 1991. Other than "our bundle of joy," we called him Jack. Oh yeah, we had the house, the cars, and all that goes with it, until ...
We celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary at a nice restaurant, came home with some friends, and celebrated some more. The next morning we went to work as usual. At about ten o'clock, I was called to the boss's office. Mr. Ward made me comfortable and then closed the door after a police officer and a detective came in. He introduced me to Officer Benson and then to Detective Pape. Mr. Ward said these gentlemen had some news to tell me.
It was Detective Pape who broke the news that Larry had been the target of an ongoing investigation lasting several months and culminating with his arrest earlier that morning. He further explained that he had been charged with the crime of embezzlement from company funds. I couldn't look at Mr. Ward the rest of the interview. They asked me a few more questions and decided I didn't have any knowledge of the goings-on. I was released and told where to find my husband.
With Larry in prison, I was barely able to make it on my own with just my pay. Mom and Dad were killed in an automobile accident a year later, and the inheritance money pulled little Jack and me through with what would have been even tougher times. Larry in prison, losing my parents—it was all I could take. But finally, Larry was out. Three long years, and he was back.
We went through an adjustment phase because I had grown fairly independent. That was hard on Larry, but it was nothing compared to his stubbornness. Prison had given him a hard heart against the world. I could see he had not taken rehabilitation very well. I had started going to church with Jack when Larry was in prison, but Larry would have nothing to do with it now.
On the other hand, Larry would have everything to do with alcohol. It was his friend. He couldn't find employment—or wouldn't, is more like it. Months went by when I finally found that with Larry's drinking, and now drugs, he was spending us into the poorhouse if it didn't stop. Creditors were hounding us—actually, me! Larry denied the bills at first until the excuses fell apart by way of reasoning. Then I caught him with another woman! I had gone through a lot. This was just too much!
Before I could get divorce papers filed, Larry was diagnosed with brain cancer. My insurance kept us afloat financially on that one. Over a two-year period, he was hospitalized four times. Each time the doctors said it was the end, and four times they were wrong! When he was in the hospital was when I felt the most peaceful.
At home, Larry was depressed, rarely interacted with us, and tried to argue a lot. I learned early that it takes two to argue. He even called other people to argue with. I finally disconnected his cell phone services. He couldn't figure out why his phone didn't work, although I had told him several times about my disconnecting it. His brain wasn't functioning correctly ... not firing on all cylinders—know what I mean?
My work gave me rest and I excelled. I didn't continue to pursue the divorce as planned, although in hindsight I should have. There was something about his getting cancer that wouldn't let me go through with it. I should not have listened to that voice. Church services, which once gave me such comfort, now left me cold. The pastor, once warm and understanding, now seemed more interested in my collection plate offerings or tithing donations. Lately, his sermons were centered more on donations from the congregation members than on worshipping God.
Four o'clock one morning, I was awakened by a thud and a lamp being knocked over. Larry was up as usual at all hours of the night. He had fallen out of his wheelchair and hit his head on the edge of an end table. As I approached him, I could see a cut on his neck caused by the broken glass from the lamp. If I could get him to the hospital, I figured he'd be all right—but I didn't.
I went upstairs and got back into bed. Thirty minutes later, I went back downstairs. He was still breathing but unconscious. I hesitated and then slowly walked over and picked up a piece of the broken lamp and made the cut in his neck a little deeper. Ten more minutes went by and then thirty minutes. Forty-five minutes later, I called the emergency number. The ambulance arrived shortly. Larry was pronounced dead as they raced to the hospital. I cried—not for Larry, but for my own mental well-being. I was exhausted ... and relieved.
Months went by, and no cops. Then years came and went, and no arrest. Nothing but good came to Jack and me from that moment on. A few months later, the pastor came by to invite me back to church as if I were a wayward sheep or lost puppy. He reminded me about the Trinity of God and his love for me, and that he is always there to help. I blurted out, "How could they be one? Was God praying to himself in the garden? Was he going to sit on "his" own right-hand side of "himself" in heaven? And why is there no mention of Jesus outside of the Bible during his supposed time on earth?" He could only cough up that it was all a mystery; we must all believe by faith. I showed him the door and stated, "I want knowledge so I can be on sure ground like a rock and not sink in the sand." He left and I've not heard from him to this day. I did get that knowledge that leads to a more sure word of understanding. That's another story.
When Jack graduated from college, I remarried and have a wonderful husband. James is a professor at the University of Texas. Jack is a successful engineer with Exxon and has a beautiful wife and three children. What a proud mom I am as James and I attend various Longhorn functions and activities. Hook 'em Horns!
My Baby
Teacher alert! You may have wanted to do something like this teacher did ... but don't try it.
I coached high school football for ten years and then decided to hang it up and teach full-time. I enjoyed coaching for the first five years, but it became boring—the same goals each year, doing the same thing practice after practice, not to mention the politics and parents. Eventually, at the end of year ten, I taught social studies full-time and enjoyed it for another twenty-one years. Then I retired. The kids and association with the school were an added bonus—with the exception of one student in particular.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from ROCKING CHAIR CONFESSIONSby Delbert "Delby" Pape Copyright © 2012 by Delbert "Delby" Pape. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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