Marty and I sat outside, on the balcony drinking beers. I asked him how the rest of the family was doing. "Mom is fine, and Dad will he's more mellow but has not changed much. Now Amy there's a different story, she has become very strange. Everything in life to her seems to be a part of some government conspiracy. Don't get me wrong, I'm not crazy about the government either but she is way out there." I was thinking if that I told her the flying jelly fish story she, would think it was some government operation. Of course for all I knew, maybe it was.

Marty asked if I remembered my '73 Chrysler Newport. Indeed I did, this was a car I had bought for seventy- five dollars. It had lots of body damage but the engine ran good. At the time I made the purchase I had no money to put the car on the road. The Newport spent the next few months sitting on a side street by my apartment. When I received my next student loan check after paying for school I still had a few hundred left over. I paid for licenses and tags and now could legally drive. The car was an old boat but once it started moving it could beat most cars on the road. I had named the car the "Yellow Submarine." The "sub" had eight cylinders, four-barrel carb, and a 440 engine.

My first day out I installed a two hundred-fifty dollar stereo Marty and I cruised down the road listening to the new hundred watt stereo system. I was seeing what the car could do and was opening it up. Going down a long hill, I was pushing about one hundred ten, I noticed a small bridge with a steep incline. At the speed I was going I did not have time to react I hit the incline at full speed. This sent us airborne, with no tires touching the ground, for a good twenty feet. The landing was not pleasant it crashed into the payment sending sparks everywhere. At first there did not seem to be any real damaged. Marty and I had been jolted but otherwise were fine. I look back to the area where we had hit the payment. The asphalt was torn to shreds for a ten-foot stretch.

The car was riding fine after that until I tried to make a left hand turn. I turned the steering wheel as hard I could but "the sub" would only move slightly to the left. A turn was impossible. Marty and I decided to take it to Bryan's, a mutual friend's house, since he worked a lot with cars. The trick of getting to Bryan's home was to figure a route where no left turns would be required Bryan had helped us out of many jams before and he was fun to hang out with.

When we arrived at Bryan's place we saw through his screen door that he was passed out on the couch. No one else appeared to be home, so we let our selves in. We attempted to revive Bryan for sometime he was either very drunk or on something. When he finally came to he told us he was just hung over and we must be exaggerating the effort it took to revive him.

We explained the situation we were in and asked if he could help.
"Sure, Bryan said, pull the car into the garage I'll be out in a minute. I've got to a crap, before I can do anything."
Bryan met us in the garage and proceeded to "jack" the entire front of the "sub" up. Marty asked, should he place cement blocks behind the back wheels.
"That's more precaution then I'm use to using but if it would make you happy me my guess, Marty" Bryan never was much in to safety he usually preferred working and playing under the most dangerous conditions imaginable.

"What the hell did you do with this thing," Bryan said with disbelieve."
"Bad", I asked.
"Well if you call ripping the entire frame in half, then 'yea I would say it was bad."
I knew nothing in regards to cars but this did not sound good. "Is it fixable," I asked.
"Everything can be fixed, Bryan replied. If you want it repaired by conventional means your looking at a few thousands. I assume this is more then you can afford." "Well I think I'm about $1990.00 short," I replied. Bryan grabbed a near by sledge hammer and said "then other methods are called for." With this he climbed into his home made pit and began to slam at the twisted frame of the "sub".
"So, what you got in mind there," I asked, trying not to sound like I was questioning his expertise.
"Just going to mold this puppy back to it original form and then I'll try a little welding on her. I should have you back on the road in no time, boss."
In about three hours Bryan informed Marty and I that the "sub" was ready to roll. Bryan explained that there was a possibility that the frame could split apart or that the front end might drop all together. With this he wished us luck. I slip him a ten and we were on the road again.
The "sub" moved pretty good after that but you could always tell that there was something not quite right with the front end. The next semester I had to use all my loan money toward school so once again I had to take the "sub" off the road. I decided to keep the "sub" at Marty's till I could afford insurance. Marty lived in the inner city and cars with out tags were less conspicuous there or so I thought. The first day the car was left by Marty's apartment it was impounded. I was informed by the police that there was a thirty-five dollar towing fee and an additional fifty dollars required to take it from the lot. I explained to the cop that I did not have the money but would do everything I could to raise it.

The next day Marty and I went to the impoundment lot to see if some type of payment plan could be worked out. The guy at the lot said a payment plan was out of the question.
"O.K., do what you have to" I said, but can I at least remove my stereo from the car."
The guy behind the counter looked disgusted by me but began to flip through some paperwork asking me the make and model. He called his coworker by walkie-talkie to come to the gatehouse. When his friend, a short Mexican fellow, arrived he asked if he knew the status of my car.
"Si, Newport taken care of yesterday," the Mexican said.
"Well there you have it gentleman," the man behind the counter said.
"What I asked, I don't understand, what happen to my car."
Counter Man smiled. "Your car is now a three foot by three foot square." He chuckled and said but on the bright side you no longer owe the fifty to get it out the pound. Of course the towing charge is still required."
I became infuriated but Counter Man said that if I didn't leave he would have us arrested. So, the "sub" was gone, new stereo system and all.

Marty and I continued reminiscing about old times when Marty suddenly jumps to his feet and said, "we got to go dude."
"Why I asked a bit bewildered by the sudden activity. " The parents, the family, reunion, any of this ringing a bell" Marty asked.
Between the beers and the tranquilizers it took some time for it to ring a bell. Our long talk and my present state of sedation had made me forget that we were suppose to meet the rest of my family for dinner.
"How much time we got", I asked Marty.
"Half hour tops but we both look like shit so I would suggest showers"
As I was entering the hotel room I was thinking of the old line from Saturday Night Live, "Better to look good then to fell good."

The shower did wonders to wake me up but still left me enough sedation so I could face the old man. We left the hotel room together laughing as if we were just going bar hopping. It's amazing how alcohol can temporarily remove your fears and make you more honest to others, but at the same time only help you to lie to yourself. Shit knows we spent enough time lying to ourselves.

We rode Marty's car to the restaurant. He had a '94 Porche, 911 Targo, no nickname was required for this beast. I was wondering if I would ever have the money to afford such a car or if I ever wanted to. From what I had seen of people with money they either became lost in the pursuit of more money or became bored and dangerous. People with power and money were often like time bombs ready to explode. I guess we were our like this but people with money even more, somehow. The trick was not to be around when the bombs went off. I looked at Marty and realized I was probably being driven by one of these persons. He had a look of menacing, delight on his face as he took winding turns at ninety plus.

We arrived at the restaurant forty-five minutes late. I could see from my Dad's face that he was infuriated but he did a good job trying to hide it. Dad said that the waiter had already taken the order but he would single him over immediately. Dad then gave Marty and me the once over with his eyes. We were dressed appropriately, and our hair was finely combed, so it seemed we pasted the appearance test. I could see that Dad had also detected the slight odor of alcohol in our breath and the slight stumble in our walk. He gave us a momentary snarl of disgust but then the smile returned to his face.
"So, how are you? You both look great."
"Oh can't complain, no one ever listens", Marty replied.
Neither my mother nor sister had uttered a word to this point, it was well understood that the men's place was higher then the women's in the Hudson's home. This was not how I felt it should be but the women in the family had been well tried by Dad. The women in my family no longer even questioned their roles. When we sat down my mother began to ask us questions.
Mom asked the usual questions that mother's ask their sons :" How's school? How's Marty job was going?, Was he dating again?, Had I patched things up with Liz? Were Marty and I eating enough? - It looks as if we both lost weight, she said."
Typical mother questions nice but also somehow artificial and contrived. I glanced over at my sister as my mother spoke and was quite startled by her appearance. Amy was dressed entirely in military garb. She was wearing a green shirt and camouflage pants. The shirt had the Marine emblem on the front, underneath was stenciled, "The Real Enemy". If you didn't know her you would assume she was making a statement but I knew the truth was worse then that.

Amy's hair was grungy and she wore no make-up. She had also gained fifty or so pounds since I had seen her last. To me it appeared she was trying to compensate feelings of inadequacies that most likely developed in early childhood. Amy was scared of the world and somewhere in her mind she felt that by removing herself from it and she could protect herself. The irrational distrust of the government was most likely caused by the trust that was broken, everyday by society, as she was growing. It was strange how you could look at a person and know them better than they would ever know themselves. Of course it went both ways most people knew you, better then you would ever know yourself. If you could ever find close friend to be completely honest with you, then you could discover who you truly were. But I was not going to tell Amy what I felt her problem was and no one was going to tell me mine. People were just to damn polite.

When mother was done asking her assortment of questions, Amy said to Marty, "so how does it feel to be a sell out, capitalist pig." This was said with only the slightest trace of humor.
Marty looked her straight in the eyes and said: "It feels good, and how does it feel to be a paranoid, hermit in the woods."
"Can't complain", Amy replied.
With this they burst out laughing. There are some things that always remains with brothers and sisters regardless where their different lives might lead them. In that moment I felt the bond that Marty, Amy and I had as children. Childhood was the most magical times of our lives. Until the innocence was destroyed we felt as if we were invincible. The love I felt toward by family and the world in general, as a child, in many ways was the most powerful love I would ever know.

Dad was very calm and polite through out the meal. He seemed concerned and supported on the issues discussed. When I told Dad of the death of Dan he genuinely seemed hurt by the news. I thought who is this man and why wasn't he around when I was growing up. He was definitely trying to make a connection with Marty and I. Marty tried to ignore these good gestures but by the end of the dinner, Marty, Dad, and I were all getting along like best of pals. Dad had always had moments when he could be very nice but when we were living in his home they seemed far between. He was talking with a new zest for live. I realized I still loved mom and dad. It was because I still loved them that I had stayed so angry all of this time. I had never stayed close to them after moving out; the quilt and anger had made me want to put that part of my life behind me. I now realized this had been a mistake.

We picked up dessert after dinner and headed to my parent's hotel suite. When we were all seated at the hotel Dad said, "he had something he needed to discuss with the family. "Only your mother is aware of this right now but I think the time has come to share this news with the entire family. Three months ago I was diagnosed with cancer and.... unfortunately it is terminal."
I was numb my body felt as if all the blood had suddenly been drained. I sat transfixed, paralyzed unable to make a move. My mind drifted into a whirlwind of images. Times that I had spent with my father now replayed inside my head. The happy times, only the happy times. I began to breath erratically I searched the room for someone's eyes to tell me it wasn't true, it was a joke, it wasn't happening. My brother and sister faces were pale and vacant. I could tell they to were experiencing the effects from this sudden announcement.

Only my father and mother's faces remained calmed. They were going to pull their kids through this and help them to return to the rational world. Amy was the first to speak, she asked my father through tears "how long did the doctor say before the disease progresses that is...um...well."
It's O.K. to say it; I have come to terms with the thought of my own death. The doctor said I would live between one to two more years. Who knows I might be dead my something else by that time."
"Have you looked in to alternative medicine there are a lot of new methods out there", Marty asked.
"I'm to old to be going to witch doctor's"; Dad then gave Marty a smile to show he did appreciate the suggestion.,br> I knew that I should say something but I was in shock. After several minutes staring into space I asked Dad if he was scared of dying. This brought of the old angry I'd know back to Dad's face. He told me he didn't have time to answer any more foolish questions and we should eat our deserts. I realized that indeed it was a foolish question, of course he must be scared.

When my mom had gone to bed and Amy had left for the evening. My Dad brought out a big bottle of Port Wine and asked Marty and I if we would like to join him. This was the first time my Dad had ever offered such a thing, and somehow Marty and I felt very honored. We discussed government, the state of society, crime, philosophy etc. All of these subjects in the past would have led to intense arguing. Dad's views were quite conservative and very different then ours. He was a racist and many of his ideas were hard to listen to, but he was respecting our opinions, so we felt we should respect his.

Dad said the best way this country could solve most of its problems was to address the issues of the inner city, head on. He advocated mandatory sterilization of all mothers who had children they could not support. Dad felt that a one-time payment of five thousand dollars should be offered to every women of childbearing age if she agreed to be sterilized. "This way no one could scream discrimination because every female would be offered the payment", Dad said. Mostly inner city black girls would except the check and this would save the government billions. Children who slip through the cracks and were born to parents who could not afford them could be sent to government sponsored orphanages.
Routine searches of all inner housing projects for weapons and drugs should be conducted. He felt welfare should be abolished, except in extraordinary situations, but that the government should provide work camps so every needy person would have a means of supporting him/her self. Anyone using a handgun to committee a felony should be serving life sentences without the possibility of parole. Shortly after this statement he decided paroles should be abolished all together and all criminals should serve their maximum sentences.
I think Dad wanted someone to hear his manifesto on how all the problems could be solved. To me it was obviously sexist, racist and fascist but Dad said it with all seriousness. I could tell he thought if these ideas were taken into action that it would better every citizen in the United States. When I stated that I did not believe in his views but he certainly had the right to have them. I expected him to go ballistic and declare us inept and unable to form intelligent opinions. Instead he simply said, "well I think it would really help. If we don't do something it will eventually destroy us all." This I was in agreement with, something needed to be done.

Dad opened another bottle of Port Wine and began to discuss his childhood. Marty and I knew nothing of his family or past, sometimes I forgot he had one. We had only discovered Dad had a brother last year, when the brother died.

He said his father was a hard-core alcoholic that would pay him little attention as a child. His mother would try and spoil him to compensate for the love he never received from his father. He lived in poverty during his childhood and felt ashamed at school because most of the other kids came from wealthier backgrounds. Dad told us he began to drink at an early age to help him understand his father's behavior. This news came as a shock to Marty and I we never had seen Dad, except tonight, have more than two drinks in his life. Now came this revelation that he was a heavy drinker. I asked Dad what had made him give up the booze.
"One day, he said I was heading out of Vegas, I had lost all my money and was drunk as a skunk. I saw what I thought was a human figure lying on the road. I swerved to miss but was to late and struck the object head on. I got out to see what I had done. It turned out only to be a bag of potatoes that must have dropped from a truck. Staggering to the side of the road I feel down on my knees and began puking. I pulled myself back up to my feet and looked around. There was nothing but a barren desert surrounding me. I decided drinking wasn't worth it anymore and except for a few minor lapses I kept my word on that one."

It was obvious to me that Dad had kept his promise from that night long ago, because he sure didn't seem to have much of a tolerance for the "hooch" now. His words were already slurred and when he got up to take piss there was a stagger in his walk.
"I didn't raiseess you all how I shoul'd hav, Dad said. I was going to be the best damn daddy in the world. Well I guess I blew that one all to shit but I always loved my boys even when I hated you. I gave you all this though, you can't say I didn't give you this, I taught you to stand up for yourselves and not take shit from no one."
When he finish his statement he got up scratched his ass, farted and headed toward the bedroom. This was my far the closest time we had ever spent with our father.
( Continued on Delta VIII) 1