Billy Don't. William OSB Baker
bag into his pants pocket, took hold of the wagon handle, and pulled it down the gravel driveway to the chicken yard gate
Dad Munroe, taking notice that Randolph was tightly gripping his bag of assorted jellies, lifted him off the stoop and stood him on the sidewalk. "you take your sister's hand, Randy, and keep a good hold on your candy." Dad then placed his hand on top of his daughter's head to steady himself. "you can be my cane, Kiddo." Although he played the game of "cane" with the children, he refused to walk with a cane, and was determined to overcome his disability. Bill's crushed hip had not healed properly, causing him to walk in a staggering manner. In later years he would joyously tell the story of being stopped by a cop (Dad always called policemen "cops") who thought he was a staggering drunk. The story was particularly humorous to those who knew him since he never drank hard liquor and would only take a small glass of wine on a very special occasion.
Billy dropped the handle to the wagon at the chicken yard gate, and ran toward the house, taking the rear stairs two at a time. He dashed through the kitchen, and heard the words, "Put on your knickers," chasing after him as he grabbed the square banister post at the bottom of the stairway and vaulted himself to the first landing. He paused, yelled, "I don't like 'em," then bounded up the stairs to his closet under the attic staircase.
"You put on those knickers." Her voice echoed up the stairwell from the front entrance hallway.
"No. I don't like 'em." He screamed his objections. "Sissies wear 'em." His temper was gaining control.
"Don't you yell at me, young man." She now stood outside the closet door.
Billy leaned back against the closet wall, then slid down to a sitting position where he sat with his arms folded, staring straight ahead. "I'm not going to wear 'em." He was defiant.
"Then you'll not go to the show with your father."
They had reached an impasse. She stood glaring down at Billy. He sat staring straight ahead, not moving.
"Get up from there and be a good boy." she pleaded. "God can see you, and He does not like what He is seeing."
Billy did not move. She reached down, placing her hand under his arm in an effort to raise him to his feet. Billy jerked away. His shoulder hit the orange crates, rocking them back and forth and spilling the stacked clothes onto the floor. "Now, look what you've done."
"I didn't do it. You made me do it. It was your fault and God saw you do it." He started to cry. "I want to go with my Dad."
"Then get up from there and put on your knickers." Slowly Billy raised himself from the floor. Mrs. Blair stepped inside the closet, picking up the spilled clothes and handing him his knickers. "Put them on in the bedroom," she commanded. Her patience was gone. Billy was conscious of her stem rule calling for him never to expose himself or his underclothing. On bath nights before entering the bathroom to ensure he had properly washed himself, she would call ahead, asking, "Are you covered?" It was Billy's signal to place a wash cloth over his genitals. On wash days she frequently warned him not to look at the female undergarments hanging on the line. "Don't you look at those. Your soul will turn black."
He sat himself with deliberate force on the foot of his cot, removing his trousers and stepping into the knickers, giving them a violent kick in the process.
"Here, put on this shirt and vest sweater." He complied without comment. He had stopped crying. She stood watching as he transferred the bag of jelly beans to his knickers.
"What is that?" she demanded to know.
"Jelly beans. My Dad gave 'em to me." She looked Billy over, pulling his shirt collar out from under the vest sweater and smoothing his ruffled hair. "You can go now."
He bolted for the stairs taking them three at a time, checking his rapid descent at the two landings by hitting the wall with his outstretched hands. Slamming the front door behind him, he ran toward the Baxter's house.
Mrs. Blair stood staring down the empty staircase. "Sure as rain," she said aloud, "the Devi1lives in that boy"
Beth was coming out of the Baxter's front door as Billy rounded the hedge heading for the front porch. "Here he is, Daddy," called Beth, letting her Dad know Billy had arrived and telling Billy they had been waiting for him. The four of them walked toward 38th Avenue, passing the telephone pole between the Baxter's and Blair's which served as the counting place for the neighborhood games of Hide 'n Seek.
In front of the Blair's they stopped briefly while Dad said good-by to Randolph, who was too small to walk to the movie, instructing Beth to take him to Mrs. Blair. Billy and his Dad continued on toward 38th Avenue. Beth, having delivered her younger brother to Mrs. Blair, ran after them, catching up where the sidewalk made a small bend before commencing its downward slope to the corner where the policeman had lived.
"Shirley lives over there." Beth pointed to a white stucco house, it was next to a lot where putrid smells of decaying vermin came from a dilapidated shack set far back from the street amongst the towering eucalyptus trees. The shack was occupied by an old lady who was seldom seen.
"Gladys Armstrong lives in the next house. She is my best friend." Beth motioned in the direction of the two story brown shingled house.
Billy jumped in, "Ellen Nygard lives in that white stucco house. She s from Finland. She's in my class."
Beth continued. "Georgia and the twin brothers live there. Her brothers go to a military school in Pacific Grove." She pointed toward the house sitting back from the street between Gladys' and Ellen's houses.
"Sounds like you have a lot of friends to play with," observed Dad, glad to share in the children's description of their neighborhood and friends.
"Shirley doesn't play with us very much. Her mom makes her stay in the yard." Mr. Munroe's hip was beginning to bother him. The earlier walk from Aunt Rae's had made him tired. It was not a far walk, only a couple of blocks from Agua Vista Street, but the hills had put extra strain on the weak hip. "I think we'll take the street car. It is getting late, and this "ole crip" may not make it in time for the movie."
Billy glanced up at his Dad. I'll be your cane." He became consciously aware of his position alongside his Dad and made a deliberate effort to walk straight and tall. Squaring his shoulders and holding his head high, he said to himself, "I'll be the best cane ever."
Dad walked between his two children, one hand on Billy's head and the other holding Beth's hand. He was a tall man with broad, squared shoulders and strong hands. His red hair accentuated the ruddiness of his complexion and brought out the blue of his eyes set deep in their sockets behind a high bridged nose which flared at the nostrils. The square jaw and straight lined mouth gave him a look of strength. His eyes were kind, passionate and understanding, humorous and teasing. The youthful years of hard labor in helping his mother to overcome the tragic deaths of first his father and then his mother's second husband had given him moral strength and a purpose to his life. He was a strong willed man who sought after his visions with objectivity and persistent determination. He was resourceful in overcoming obstacles and willing to self-sacrifice for those whom he loved and trusted. He was always honest and forthright in his dealings .... no trickery or bribery. "Mean what you say and say what you mean." and "Never be a fore-flusher." Those were his often repeated words. Mr. Munroe's visions had been within reach when the very venture which was to pyramid his successes came crumbling down.
The disastrous collapse of the parking garage left him crippled and bankrupt, and the divorce was to forever separate him from the children he loved. He asked no pity for the permanent hip injury, and never suspected that it would cause him to lose his balance and fall from a forty foot bluff onto the banks of the South Fork of the Tuolumne River where he would lay for two days before being found by two fishermen. His injuries from the fall were nearly fatal. The doctors predicted he would not live and chose not to treat his shattered right shoulder, which healed in a most useless manner. Still he asked for no pity.
He was vengeful. He was vengeful toward the wife who stripped him of his children and wealth; toward the surgeon who failed to properly mend his hip; toward the doctors who left him for dead. He was intolerant of those who claimed to be his friends