Settling Old Scores: BWWM Second Chance Romance (2 page)

Sylvia
herself never talked down to Kevin, despite the big age difference.
Well, at that age it was a big difference. In retrospect you could
say, Kevin had a big-time crush on Sylvia Greenberg. The story was
that she had become pregnant when she was 15. She had tried living at
home with the baby. Sylvia’s father had run off and
disappeared. Sylvia eventually was kicked out of the house, because
she couldn't get along with her father and his rules.

Sylvia
was on AFDC and rented the little apartment from the kindly old
Jewish couple that owned the grocery store below it. Sylvia's father
virtually disowned her. Sylvia's mother helped Sylvia and Marcy
whenever she could by babysitting and discreetly providing clothes
and money for Marcy.

Kevin's
paper route was the beginning of a process that made him into a
street smart little urchin. He was rough on the one hand and stupid
on the other. Every inner city back then had a commercial zone; an
Avenue that was to become the focus of racial unrest, and riots as
the 60s wore on.

Kevin's
route was right on that Avenue. Kids in those days had a special
dispensation from adult issues, regardless of race. He could go and
come as he pleased anywhere in the area, and people paid him no heed.
The old Jewish store owners, the moms, dads, grandmas, and grandpas,
regardless of race or anything else, were protective of all children.
At least until age 15 or 16, all of the street kids were color blind.
They played together, gave each other shit, fought, made up and
played together again without any seeming awareness of the stewing
cauldron around them.

One
of Kevin's route customers was an old barber shop for black men.
Kevin could go in there, drop the paper off and listen to the old
guys talk about sports. Cassius Clay had just become the heavyweight
champion. Kevin heard a lot about him. Every black kid in the
neighborhood wanted to be a bad man like him. White boy Kevin wanted
to be to be like him, too.

Farther
down the street, there was a boxing gym that trained local golden
gloves fighters. In 1963, several of the local and regional golden
gloves winners were fighters from that gym. When they stepped out on
the street and strutted along in their athletic jackets with the big
golden glove on the back, the kids followed them down the street like
they were pied pipers. The kids would be walking, shucking, dancing,
and jabbing at each other as they followed these guys around. Could
Clay beat Liston again? Who was the better fighter: Marciano or Clay?
The local fighters ate up the adoration they got. The boys, Kevin
included, swooned when the fighters paid attention to them. Stuff
like "Good Jab!" made them double down in their efforts to
get noticed. It was little boy heaven and bad boy island all rolled
into one growing up around all these cool, young guys.

3.
Pat Washington

Pat
and Kevin had known each other since 1962, a year before Kennedy was
assassinated. They started junior high school together. Later, they
went to High School together. Kevin was never an academic match for
Pat. In senior high school, she was a National Merit Scholarship
winner. She loved music of all kinds and could play saxophone and
violin well enough to give Kevin goose bumps when she really got to
playing them. Patrica and Kevin used to have some long serious
discussions every day in a study hall they shared. They also took
classes together. Kevin was always impressed with her sensibility and
was frankly flattered, that she would even talk to him.

Kevin
used to visit her every day because he delivered the paper to her
house. They loved to talk about music. There was no physical
attraction between them then; they were still kids. Pat's mom liked
Kevin too, and he became almost a part of their family. She seemed to
think that he was a good influence on her daughter. The family
consisted of just Pat and her mom. Kevin never really gave the single
parent thing a thought; in that neighborhood, there were more AFDC
families than intact families.

In
the late 60s, Vietnam was going on strong, and there was a draft. The
burden of staffing that event fell mostly on small-town and inner
city kids. The local old, inner city high school provided plenty of
draftees, and volunteers for the effort. About half the kids that
didn't go to college were volunteers, the other half were draftees.
Every kid that had a brush with the law, eventually, had a judge
order him to incarceration or the Army. Kevin joined the Navy when he
graduated in 1969. Eventually, after five years he ended up with a
Merchant Officers License, and a four-year degree. But that was a
whole different journey.

For
three of those five years, Pat and Kevin were pen pals. Kevin never
could define their relationship. When Kevin was home on leave, he
tried a couple of times to get her to go to the next level with him.
She had blossomed into a gorgeous woman; she had gone seemingly
overnight from a tall, very skinny girl, to a well-built woman. Her
body was starting to drive Kevin crazy. She avoided commitment and
affection with him when he was home. She was suddenly much friendlier
when they were thousands of miles apart. Several times, Kevin would
just give up, and quit writing to her. She would beseech him to write
back to her. So, Kevin would resume the pen pal relationship.

Kevin
never once heard her say a thing about her dad. He never saw a
picture of him anywhere in the house, either. She had a certain
vulnerability about her and a big chip on her shoulder, too. Kevin
understood the chip part completely; a lot of kids from the old
neighborhood had it. There was the "inferiority chip" and
the "I don't fit in or belong chip." Sometimes you believed
it, and sometimes you raged against it.

Kevin
always thought the tension between the insecurity and the feeling of
being different was more of an affliction of the ass than a chip on
the shoulder. Kevin's mom always drilled him about being the first
generation off the cotton plantation. She was from South Carolina.
Kevin's grandfather had actually run a plantation for an insurance
company that came to own it during the depression. Kevin's mom always
told him he was exceptional, and told him he needed to prove that
people from the South were not the ignorant slugs people thought.
Other overachievers like the Jewish kids in the neighborhood got
drilled the same way, being second generation in the country. They
were instructed that it was almost a matter of survival to never rest
on their accomplishments. Pat got it from being the first generation
off the farm in left armpit North Dakota somewhere. That tension made
all those groups overachieve,and yet resent the feelings they could
never fully escape.

There
was no way Kevin could ever be anything but patient with Pat; already
confused and disappointed as he was with their relationship, or lack
of it. They were both trying to make their way as best as they could,
and they found a certain solace and comfort in each other’s
letters.

Kevin
always thought that with time Pat would one day come to view him
differently. Her vulnerability made him refuse to press her for
answers to questions that were devouring him. He peppered himself
with the questions. Had she been abused as a child? Did she just want
a dad, not a boyfriend? His worst fear was that she had someone else,
or would find someone else that was more than good enough; in fact,
just plain better than he was. Probably, some fellow musician or
academic. One that could read music, play it, and discuss it far more
intelligently than Kevin.

Was
she only seasoning her life with his vicarious experiences? Kevin
wondered all the time. He had a lot of rough edges; maybe he just
frightened her. The bad boy reputation he picked up in high school
didn't help either. Maybe she was one of those that liked the idea of
a bad boy, but had too much sense to get involved with one. Kevin
could hang around with and mix with bad boys, honor roll students,
and jocks with ease, all through high school, but he never quite fit
in with any of them much as Pat didn't fit entirely either.

Mother-daughter
relationships are beyond what any man can understand too. Pat's
mother actually seemed to like Kevin. Sometimes, that is the kiss of
death for a relationship. Kevin tormented himself trying to figure
out why Pat Washington seemed to love him on the one hand, and keep
him at a distance on the other. She cried when he shipped out to
Vietnam, and wrote to him faithfully. He could stop over at her house
when he was home, talk with her for hours, but he couldn't lay a
finger on her beyond a sisterly hug or gesture of affection.

Kevin
tried everything, except a direct approach. He simply resolved to
stay the course with her without confrontation. He knew deep down
that she would be gone in a heartbeat if he pressed her for answers
or affection. His life after high school was as full as could be
anyway. Always working and studying, trying to achieve the goal he
wanted. His big deal was to sail long enough to get his Captain's
License. He wanted an MBA so that he could come ashore at some point.
Then maybe work on becoming a ship's pilot for a specific port area.
A very specialized & well paying position guiding merchant
vessels to a safe berth from the open sea through changing tides &
currents.

Pat
was just as busy, commuting from the neighborhood to classes at the
University. She had scholarships, but she had to work for pocket
money, and to be able to afford the music she loved so much. She
spent hours playing sax, and violin. She hoped to eventually play in
the string section of an orchestra and to teach music. What neither
one knew at the time was that you could get out of the neighborhood,
but the neighborhood never got out of you completely.

4.
The Riots

Kevin
and Pat loved music and talked about it a lot when they were
together. They both had eclectic tastes. They loved the Motown Sound,
Jazz, and Classical music. They even had inside music jokes that not
everyone would follow. Does
Herbert
Von Karajan
know
any Beethoven? Did
Darlene
Love
know
how to sing backup? Does
Lonnie
Mack
know
how to play a Gibson Flying Vee Guitar? They would laughingly ask
each other when stating the obvious. It turned out that the answer to
all those questions was an emphatic Hell Yes!

Their
eclectic tastes were not so strange. Part of the Motown Sound was
directly attributable to them using the Detroit Symphony in
conjunction with the Funk Brothers’ flourishes and touches on
their albums. The Delfonics used the Philadelphia Orchestra for some
of their incredible music and for creating what became the
Philadelphia sound.

Since
Patrica didn't seem to want Kevin, he was free to date other girls.
He did on several occasions, but still couldn't get Pat off his mind.
In high school, his friendship with Pat messed up potential
relationships with other girls. More than one gal dumped him when he
refused to give up his friendship with Pat for an exclusive with her.
He tried to work up Pat with some of his other female relationships,
but frankly she didn't seem to care. No signs of jealousy or
anything; just an occasional sad look that made Kevin feel like a
real jerk.

He
had one other girlfriend, Brenda Johnson. She turned him into a
puddle, whenever she wanted to. She would push her copious chest into
his arm or chest whenever she wanted his attention. Game over for
Kevin whenever that happened. She was still Kevin's secret standard
for kissing. The girl had a lip lock never to be forgotten,
especially when she was also pushing her bosom into you. Pat openly
detested the girl. Brenda eventually attracted the attention of an
older boy in the neighborhood, and drifted from Kevin since he didn't
yet quite yet know what to do with her affection, or body.

As
the sixties wore on, the old Avenue drifted away too. Some of the
commerce died off. Worse than that was everyone seemed to be getting
increasingly tense. You could feel it in the air. The shopkeepers
were increasingly tense too. These were guys who had soldiered all
over Europe as young men. They say there are no atheists in a
foxhole. Kevin didn't know about that; he bet there wasn't much
inequality in a foxhole either.

The
shopkeepers hated dictators, loved America, and believed to the core
that they fought a war for democracy and equality. They were the kind
of guys that would give you the shirt off their back if you needed
it. As a kid, Kevin saw them do it all the time, for people. How do
you put a value on that? Now, they were being looked at by some in
the neighborhood as though they were parasites preying on the
neighborhood residents. Little did they know that these little guys
were soon to be replaced by empty lots, abandoned buildings and
corporations that would fire people for giving away anything
unauthorized or deviating from operating procedures.

In
August 1966, a three day riot broke out on the Avenue. This was going
on all over the country at the time. One brick, much rage, some
gasoline, and instant flames. Kevin's birthday was coming up in
September; in days he would be 15, old enough to quit the paperboy
business and get a real job that paid better. He delivered papers
right through the riot, burning, and looting. He still got a free
pass for being a kid. He moved down the burned blocks with impunity.
There was a hell of a lot of places that were not there to get a
paper any more. The afternoon of the second day he stopped at the
grocery store that Sylvia lived above; they were still in business,
and had not been touched. He assumed that they had been left alone
because everyone knew and liked the owners. They were farther down on
the Avenue, and not really in the heart of things too. Sylvia was
standing in the store. She talked to Kevin. She said she had dropped
Marcy off at her mother's for safety reasons. But, she said she would
stay in the apartment, to protect her stuff. That night, the store,
and the apartment were torched. Kevin never saw Sylvia again. All
that was left the next day was a smoldering pile of bricks. By then,
the National Guard had been called out. The Avenue he knew was gone.
He was so distracted by all the events that he never really gave much
thought to Sylvia or Marcy. He just presumed that she went back to
her family. It nagged at him just a little, that the store was burned
at all. One of the other adjacent buildings that got hit was a
funeral home actually owned by black people. Kevin could never figure
that one out. He didn't think about it that hard either.