Home Again, Home again…

I relinquished my runaway status in New Orleans after Dad allowed me back in the house during the Christmas holidays. After the first of the year in 1971 I returned to McCluer Senior High. Not much had changed and nobody missed me.  I was still a geek, and my coolness was 750 miles away in "The Big Easy." 

A new restaurant was opening close to my house called Mr. Steak. They hired me as Head Cook making about $1.40 per hour. After a month I was promoted to Assistant Manager and went on salary at $200 per week. The Head Waitress and I started dating. Pam, a pretty redhead, was a year older than me, having just graduated the previous year in 1970. For graduation her dad bought her a new car.  Not just any car.  She had a 1970 blue Dodge Challenger. Oh, how I loved that car.

Pam had a boyfriend her age but I guess she wanted a young stud like me “on the side”. Her boyfriend was a grease-monkey kinda guy with one of the hottest cars on the street. I didn't mind this at first. Initially I thought it was cool sneaking around behind his back but after a few months the love triangle was too much, and I had to give her an ultimatum. Well she stayed with "Mr. Go Faster" and they eventually got married. (Years later, after I got out of the army, we reconnected and she wanted to fool around again, even though she was married to Mr. Go Faster. Maybe I’ll write about that little escapade in a future blog)

Back at home the old rules were still in place.  I know I should have known that when I accepted the terms for coming home.  After only 6 weeks I tested one of those rules.  The kids were still not allowed to watch TV when Dad and Mary Lou were out socializing. Actually, it wasn’t really a conscious test.  I just thought that he wouldn’t notice.  I figured that I was making good money, so I went to JC Penny's and bought a small black and white TV of my own and put it in my basement bedroom. It didn’t take long for Dad to notice, and he was pissed. He had to react sternly so he could make an impression on the 6 kids who still lived there, so he kicked me out. No discussion; just “get the hell out of the house.”

Now this was in February in the mid-west. The temperature at night hovered around 20 degrees. I bought a 1957 Chevy station wagon for $300 soon after I got back and it became my very chilly home. It was particularly tough watching my new TV in the car.  But I still went to high school and showed up for work and life went on with bird baths in gas station restrooms and showers in the gym locker room.  It was tough sleeping through the night though; waking up two or three times to start the engine and warm it up.  I had enough money for my expenses and food from the restaurant when I worked.  I also had my freedom.  What more could a guy want?

Living nowhere got old and after a couple of weeks the parents of my friend, Paul Groth, allowed me to move in with them.  I never told my parents where I was, and they never reached out to find me.  Paul’s Dad was a retired Army Colonel.  There was considerable discipline in the Groth house, but it was tempered somewhat but Paul’s Mom who was a truly nice person who you could talk to.  It was nice to have a good warm bed and an adoptive family to come home to.  I had to follow the same rules Paul followed regarding being home at a certain hour after work, but it wasn’t as restrictive as it would have been at the Howard house.  Their family life was more “normal.”

Sometime in the spring I was let go from my job at Mr. Steak because the owner heard from another employee that I had taken a drink of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill from a friend in the parking lot while emptying the trash. The owner, Hank Bauer, was also a devout Christian and couldn't stand people who drank at all.

Within 3 days I found a job at another new Mr. Steak Restaurant in Ferguson, as Assistant Manager.  Work was work but it was fun and my social like revolved around it.  There were always girls working with me.  Some even liked me a little.

In June I graduated from high school and stayed out all night with Paul and two cheerleader types who wouldn’t normally have given me the time of day.  The “Groth” name came in handy that night. We had a good time. I remember all four of us swimming in a lake in our underwear at dawn. The girl I was with never spoke to me after that night, though, despite my repeated efforts.

I stayed with the Groth family until mid-summer. I had joined the Army on the delayed entry program and was scheduled to leave for boot camp in mid-July. It was 1971 and the Viet Nam war was still raging.  Even though the draft had slowed and my number of 75 hadn’t been called yet I spoke with the recruiter and he convinced me that I wanted to be an Airborne Ranger. Joining the Army was also a ploy to get Pam to choose me over her boyfriend, but it backfired. So, the day before I was scheduled to report I backed out.

Soon after that I broke one of the Groth family rules about staying out late without calling. Colonel Groth was also disappointed that I had backed out of enlistment, and he asked me to leave.  I had quit my job to go into the Army. I traded my 1957 Chevy station wagon to Randy Groth for his Honda 305 Scrambler and took off for New Orleans again, just a vacation this time.  A full-shell Captain America helmet just like Peter Fonda’s in the movie Easy Rider came with the motorcycle.  Now I was cool again… and getting cooler all the time.  I think I watched that movie 10 times.