Chapter 1

Really, what did I have to complain about? I put the novel down on the stand beside my bed and thought about it. The girl in the book grew up dirt poor in the Deep South. We were rich enough - three bedrooms (even if one was made into a family room) and two cars. Even had a second TV, one of those little black-and-white ones, in the kitchen. Dad gave us a good life in the suburbs, better than he had growing up on a farm or Mom as a coal miner’s daughter – but most of the kids I knew were eager to get the hell out.

It was a dirty, dingy, dying steel town, like several in the valleys surrounding Pittsburgh – but for me, it was home. It was terrifying to picture myself anywhere else - all on my own, not knowing anyone. On the other hand, how could I stay in a place with twenty-five percent unemployment? I’d barely made it through two years of college while living at home and driving to the branch campus on the other side of town. In another two years I’d be out on my own regardless.

I looked at the calendar on the wall. Friday, July 20, 1979. Six weeks until school started again. Six months until a new decade, just over a year until I could vote for president for the first time. The day itself meant nothing to me. I grabbed a sock off the floor, balled it up, and fired it at the calendar.

The door opened and Dad’s head popped in. “If you’re looking for something productive to do, the lawn needs mowed.”

I sighed. “Yeah, okay, when do you...”

“Now!”

“I’m coming.”

He could’ve been harsher, like when he’d say, ‘Find a job yet?’ or ‘What kind of grades are these?’ but I’d learned a long time before to never talk back or say anything bad about my father. A downside of being an only child was not having anyone else to vent to. Also - no one else to do the chores.

I retrieved the sock from the other side of the room and found the matching one on the desk. After grabbing my tennis shoes from under the bed I was on my way to the garage.

He still hadn’t thought it necessary to invest in any kind of power mower. Regardless of how hot it might be I needed to keep the push mower moving at a sufficient speed to keep the spiral blades spinning fast enough to chop the grass. Fortunately for me the yard wasn’t very big. The house and garage filled the long and narrow lot side-to-side, leaving three chunks of grass to attend to.

An hour later, having finished the lawn, I didn’t want to read anymore. I couldn’t sit still, cooped up in my room. I had to do something – but little satisfied me.

Heading out the door, keys in hand, my mother called out after me, “Joe Long – just where do you think you’re going?”

“Oh, sorry Mom - bowling alley. Won’t be long.”

I could hear her sigh as the door closed behind me. “Supper’s in an hour. Don’t be late.”

The pinball machines suddenly sounded exciting and I didn’t have the patience to walk. Five minutes later I’d parked and headed inside, looking for an empty machine. Amy was there with another girl. She was always there. I swear she lived at those alleys. She looked over and sort of smiled. I muttered, “Hey” and stared for a second. I wanted to say more, but, as always, the words never formed.

‘Eh – maybe next time.’

‘How long are you gonna keep telling yourself that?’

She turned away, back to her friend and whatever they were talking about.

Once a machine became available, without a word and without paying much attention to anyone around me, I dropped a quarter in the slot and pressed the button on the front panel to start a new game. Mata Hari. Exotic dancer turned German spy and executed after the war. The game depicted her in a traditional Hindu outfit, with flowing robes from the waist down and a bikini type top, laying seductively on her side.

The silver metal ball was released and I pulled back gently on the plunger. The impact drove the ball at medium speed up the chute and into the play area. Bing-bing-bing-bing, my gentle nudges helped the ball shoot back and forth before it escaped the baffles and rolled unobstructed down the middle of the board. My middle finger flicked the button which commanded the flipper, driving the ball back up the board.

Left, right, up, down, fast, slow.

I knocked down a bank of targets to have them pop up again. I kept the ball moving well, but eventually and invariably the ball would find its way to a dead spot and leave the game.

Sometimes it was bad luck, sometimes bad play, the latter of which was becoming increasingly frequent as time went by. I only had one more quarter.

I’d bested it for a while, but the machine endured. You only get to play until you’ve used up the allocated number of failures. Then it was done and gone, just a memory.

At least I had baseball. The Pirates were on at seven-thirty and were only two and a half games out of first, having won four straight and eight of nine - but I’d miss some of it as I had to be down at the stadium at six for my own collegiate summer league game, hoping the coach would let me play.

Right after it started I was in my usual spot on the bench in the bullpen, back against the fence that ran the length of the walkway in front of the stands. It offered a good view of the young ladies making their way from their seats to the restrooms and concession stands, then back again.

In the third inning I tapped my teammate Randy on the arm. “Whoa dude, look at this one coming.”

He glanced over and said, “Oh damn. That’s Patty.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Do you know her?”

“From school. Why don’t you ask her out, instead of just gawking?”

I looked down and kicked at the dirt. “I don’t know...”

“Hell, I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s just...”

“Bullshit. Are you just going to do the five knuckle shuffle every night or...”

“Up yours!” I cut him off indignantly.

“Don’t you mean you want it ‘up hers’?” He leaned in closer, slowly pistoning his fist in front of his chest. “Just look me in the eye and tell me you don’t do it.”

I drew in a deep breath but without a word let the air slide back out over my lips. Turning my eyes to the middle of the diamond, I yelled, “C’mon Jim - strike him out!”

Around ten the next morning I walked into the kitchen in time to hear my dad ask Mom, “Was that your sister Janet?” as she hung up the phone.

“Yep, all of them will be over in half an hour or so”she replied with a smile.

I grinned in anticipation. “About time we got to see them, it’s been over a month since they moved back from Texas.”

Dad, however, frowned. “Not like they were in our backyard - at least until now. No way I was driving nearly a hundred miles each way to sit and gab for a few hours.” He turned back to Mom. “How many husbands is this for her?”

“Well, let me...”

I cut her off. “Two, actually. She married the first one, Dave’s dad, but not Hannah’s or Donna’s.”

They both stared at me and Dad snapped, “That was rude. Your mother was talking.”

I looked down and shuffled my feet. “I’m sorry. I just remember yunz talking about it.”

Dad stared into space for a moment then said to Mom, “Yeah, I remember that winner. Thought he was all hot shit with his red Camaro. You say this one’s a real estate agent?”

Mom nodded. “That’s the story. Not long after she and the kids moved in with Dad he had her out looking for a house. Apparently she hooked up with a realtor in more ways than one – and now she’s living in his house.”

“I think I was only like thirteen last time they came to a reunion - yeah, that’s right - six years ago, the summer Pete Rose beat out Willie Stargell for the M.V.P.”

Dad looked me over and shook his head. “Well, if you want to see them this time you better go get presentable. Throw on a pair of pants for starters ... then shave or something?”

My neck was still stinging from razor burns when I saw a BMW pulling into the driveway. Moments later the women were already hugging as my aunt said, “Oh Meredith, it’s been too long!”

Then she turned and wrapped her arms around me, “And my favorite nephew...” I had to admit that Aunt Janet still looked (and felt) pretty good, even at thirty-six.

Her new husband looked to be about fifty as I watched him greet my father. “Michael Roudabush - pleased to meet you.”

“Michael - I’m Chris Long.”

“Oh, call me Mickey - I’ve heard a lot about your family.”

“And I’ve seen your face on billboards for a long time” my dad chuckled.

Mickey smiled warmly. “What do you again?”

“Teach algebra and calculus to the little brats out at the high school.”

As he and Dad continued to talk, my attention was drawn to the kids jumping out of the back seat - first Dave, hard to miss at well over six feet, then ... then...

‘Ho. Lee. Shit. Is that Hannah?’

I felt like a force field had passed through my body, leaving me a little dizzy.

Those big, round, brown eyes, with light brown hair that flowed over her shoulders and a gorgeous smile with her pearly whites framed by oh so pink lips. A quick glance down saw that although her boobs were small she had perfectly tanned and toned thighs. But it was her eyes - her eyes and her smile - that had me transfixed. I found myself getting hard just looking at that smile.

‘She’s your cousin!’

“Hey man, how are you doing?” Dave’s words broke me out of my trance as he shook my hand. “Looks like we’re going to be neighbors!”

“Oh, yeah, hi - you gonna play ball this summer?”

“I really want to. I know you guys already started, but it would be great if you could help me schedule some tryouts.”

“Yeah, um ... we’re more than halfway through the season, but I’ll see what I can do.” My mind was still reeling from seeing Hannah again after so long.

She greeted my parents quickly before pushing in next to Dave to join our group. She reached out her hand, and instead of shaking I lightly held it in mine as our eyes met. It was soft, warm and dry. “Wow Hannah, you’ve, um ... grown so much since the last time I saw you.” My chest tightened and I once again felt a tingling sensation sweep my body.

She blushed slightly and then smirked. “Well, looks like you’ve grown up too, Joe.”

‘Five-one?’ I thought as I realized her head could probably fit under my chin. “So how old are you now?”

“Almost fifteen” she replied confidently. “I’ll be going to ninth grade in the fall.”

‘Damn.’ If I didn’t know better, I’d’ve sworn she was at least sixteen.

Her mother chimed in with a smile, “Oh, you got another four months ‘til your birthday!” Turning back to my mother, she continued. “Kids, they want to grow up so fast these days!”

I just smiled at my aunt, then Hannah leaned close to me and whispered with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I am grown up!”

I chuckled but decided to leave that one alone. “I’m going to be a junior in college. Your school’s right acrossed the street from mine!”

“Nice!” Hannah exclaimed.

Then her little sister Donna, two years younger than her, hit me playfully on the arm. “Hey, Joe.”

She was actually a little taller than Hannah, an okay face, almost no boobs and a decent amount of baby fat lower down below - not that I was looking.

“Hey Donna”.

‘That was ... weird’ I thought to myself.

After a few more minutes of idle chit-chat, my heart was pounding out of my chest. I asked to be excused and headed into the house. Checking that I wasn’t being followed, I bolted up the stairs to my room. Once there, I went to the front window and peeked through a space between the drapes, being careful not to be seen.

I watched her smile and laugh as she continued talking to my family and hers.

‘I can’t believe how beautiful she is.’

‘Ten, eleven... ‘

‘That face – and oh my God that ass!’

‘Twenty-two, twenty-three... ‘

I closed my eyes, squeezed tighter, and imagined her smiling up at me...

“thirty ... three ... thir ... TY ... FOUR!”

My body stiffened and shook for what must have been ten seconds as I felt the warmth running over the back of my hand.

‘Well, that didn’t take long.’

I heard the front door close and had to stumble around for a Kleenex while my pants were still around my knees.

“Nineteen years old and still a goddamn virgin” I muttered to myself.

Mom called out, “Joe, come on down for lunch!”

I quickly rearranged myself, slipped into the bathroom where I disposed of my goods down the toilet, then headed downstairs. When I got to the kitchen Mom asked, “Are you alright honey? You look a little flushed.”

“Nah, I’m fine, just a little hot out.”

The dining room table was adorned with an array of sandwich fixings and refreshing drinks, courtesy of Mom. With enough meat and cheese for two, I made my way to the living room where Dad was eagerly showing off his impressive gun collection to Mickey.

Dave followed behind me and joined me on the couch as I motioned for him to sit. “So, you follow the Pirates?” I asked, trying to restart our conversation.

“Yeah, ever since we moved back. San Antonio’s got a minor league team so the best I could do there was read the box scores in the paper. But I want to hear about you - what position do you play?”

I could hear the muffled chatter of the women in the kitchen and guessed that Hannah was still in there with them “Pitcher - I’m not too bad, and I get some time in the outfield - but I’ve been hitting for crap lately.”

“How hard do you throw?”

I could see Hannah at the dining room table getting her food.

‘Don’t stare - only a second or two.’

“I dunno, probably in the top ten, but I gotta throw more strikes. I know there’s not much pro potential for a guy who’s five-nine and can’t make his college team.”

“Well, I’ve got about seven inches on you,” Dave joked. “I’m hoping I can get a scholarship somewhere a year from now. Good lefties don’t grow on trees, you know!”

Hannah and both our moms were moving towards the chairs by the fireplace.

‘Don’t turn your head, just sweep the room when there’s movement.’

“We only have three weeks left to play for this summer before the playoffs. Games are at six Monday through Friday, with makeups on the weekends - and there’s usually a double-header at the stadium downtown.”

Hannah’s thigh was in my plain view as her brother said, “Doesn’t give me long to line up a girlfriend!”

“What?” You’re already looking for a girlfriend?” I asked incredulously.

“Well, I don’t want to go home alone after the games!” he replied with a shrug.

As I chuckled, I couldn’t help but steal another glance at Hannah, stretching her t-shirt tight acrossed her chest. Blowing my load had helped to let off some of my steam, but that was not the time for me to have another erection, surrounded by family. Thinking of that, I realized how much Hannah looked like my mother. There were some features many of the Mathiesen women shared, and I found myself trying to imagine what my mom would have looked like twenty-five years ago.

“Earth to Joe?” I heard Dave call out.

I stammered, “Wait, I’m sorry ... what?” as I tried to recall my conversation with Dave.

“You seem to be really lost in space today. I was asking if you have a girlfriend?”

I squirmed and mumbled awkwardly, “Uh, well ... no...”

He leaned close and whispered, “What’s the matter, you gay?”

I shook my head vigorously. “Oh hell no ... it’s just, well, I get so nervous around girls. It’s like ... this isn’t easy...” I ran my hand through my hair. “Do you know what it’s like to want something so bad, but be so afraid to try? Afraid of being shut down?”

“Nope,” Dave replied nonchalantly.

“Dammit!” I muttered under my breath. “You’re no help.”

He playfully slapped me on the arm. “Don’t worry cuz. No problems here. Just stick with me - I’ll get you hooked up.”

“Uh – okay.”

An hour later, our guests started to prepare for their departure. Mom, Dad and I stood in line in the driveway, reversing the earlier process of greeting.

I shook Mickey’s hand with a firm grip, letting him know I’d look forward to seeing him again. Next, Aunt Janet kissed me on the cheek. A fist bump with Dave, and a “See ya” to Donna.

Hannah hugged my mother briefly, then turned to face me, our eyes scanning each other from head to toe. After that momentary pause, she extended her arms in invitation, and I stepped forward eagerly to wrap mine around her.

Not too tightly, but our bodies were close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of each other. The scent of strawberries wafted up from her hair as goose bumps swept my body.

I squeezed then released her, stepping back to see her smiling at me. I grinned awkwardly and stared as she walked away.

As their car disappeared down the street, Dad turned to Mom and asked, “Seems like a nice guy. Wonder how long he’ll be around?”

Mom arched an eyebrow and responded sarcastically, “I wonder how many blow jobs it took to get that ring so quickly. She never did marry Tom.”

My head snapped back and forth between them before I finally asked my mother in disbelief, “How can you say that about your sister?”

Mom simply shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “She’s always had a problem hanging on to a guy - three kids, three different last names?”

“But she was with Tom for over ten years. It wasn’t her fault he died!” I replied angrily.

“Shacking up with a man thirty years older than her didn’t help any” Mom retorted snidely. “Look, I love my sister, but she’s only known this guy a month or two and she’s already said ‘I do’ and hauled her kids into his house.”

Dad chimed in, “Son, your grandparents had such high hopes for Janet. She had good grades and was headed to college - but she was also boy crazy and ended up dropping out her senior year when she got knocked up with Dave.”

I argued back, “Well, Mom did go to college, at least until she got pregnant with me, so what’s the difference?”

Mom’s face turned red with anger, causing Dad to snap, “Boy, don’t you have something to do in your room?”

I stammered out, “Yeah ... uh ... I’ll find something.”

That night I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling as the radio played the rock station out of Chicago at a very low volume. I muttered to myself in frustration, “Dammit - I finally say more than two words to a hot girl and she has to be my cousin.” I reached for the Kleenexes.

Dave called just before I was leaving for my game on Monday. “Hey, I got signed up by Coca-Cola.”

“Congrats!” I replied. “That figures, as last place has first choice in waiver picks.”

“You know it,” Dave boasted. “With me around they won’t stay in the cellar for long.”

“Ha! I see you have a high opinion of yourself.”

“Well, Pepsi can’t stay ahead of Coke forever,” he quipped.

I chuckled. “Hey, Pepsi is definitely better than Coke and we’re making the playoffs this year. Might even get to the tourney.”

“Yeah, that would be cool ... hey, Mom wants to talk to you.”

“Okay, put her on” I said.

My aunt sounded anxious as she said, “Joe? Hey, um, Dave’s first game is the late one tomorrow down at the stadium. I can take him and the girls there but can’t stay until his is over ‘cause I gotta get to work. Could you give them a ride back to the house afterwards?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll come over as soon as my game is done.”

Turns out I didn’t play either night, and on Tuesday I was still in uniform when I got downtown to the stadium. It was almost eight-thirty and Dave’s game was in the second inning.

My aunt’s face lit up with a warm smile when she saw me approach. “Hey Joe, thanks for coming. I gotta run, but here’s ten dollars in case the girls want anything.” Turning to her daughters, she continued, “you be good for Joe. Bye!”, then gave me yet another kiss on the cheek on her way past. It was hard not to give a glance as she walked away.

As I dropped myself into the first-row seat beside Hannah, she gave me an irritated glare and snapped, “What, are you going to be our baby-sitter now?”

“C’mon, lighten up, I’m just here to give you a ride home after I make sure you don’t get kidnapped or anything. It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.” I was seriously hoping she wouldn’t give me a hard time, as it would be our first opportunity to talk.

Donna had other ideas than hanging with us. “Hey, not that y’all are boring or anything, but I want to go wander around. Can you give me a couple bucks?”

I thought she was working the piggy bank awfully quick, but I didn’t mind seeing her go. “Yeah, sure thing Donna, bye - just don’t leave the stadium!”

She looked back over her shoulder and said, “Thanks, come get me if I’m not back when it’s time to go.”

“Like I’m going to know where you are!”

With my wallet in hand, Hannah took the opportunity to ask, “Joe, will you get me a couple wieners and a soda?”

“Okay, sure thing, I’ll be back in a few minutes, if there’s no line.” I took a step but then froze and turned back to her. “But if you’re going to be a real yinzer, you need to know that’s a couple hot dogs and some pop.”

“Oh - Same difference! And mustard and onions, if you can!”

As I smiled and left, I found myself thinking,

‘You going for that or what?’

‘Like my cousin is gonna get naked with me.’

‘You know you want it.’

‘Shut up.’

I returned about five minutes later to see Hannah intently watching the game. I sat back down beside her and presented the food order, which included some fries for myself.

Grabbing one of my fries, she waved towards the field and asked, “Do you know all these guys?”

“I know most of their names, and I’m friends with quite a few of them.” I leaned back in my seat, taking my own nibble of a fry. “We come from over ten different high schools in the area, and more than half of us are in college now. Summers are our chance to catch up and hang out together.”

Will Martin was the first batter in the fourth and was out taking his practice swings in the on deck circle, not ten feet from us. As I dipped a fry in the ketchup, Hannah leaned in to whisper, “What’s his name? He’s got a nice butt!”

Slightly shocked and embarrassed, I whispered back, “Shhh, he can hear you!”

“So what?” she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye.

I rolled my eyes and replied, “So – he’s twenty years old!”

Hannah scoffed and retorted, “And what am I, a baby?”

“No! It’s just...” I stumbled over my words before finally admitting, “You know what I mean.”

She scrunched up her face and gave me a stare. “Yeah, you’re an old fuddy duddy. I just like to say what I think - lighten up!”

She didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, munching on her dog until I reached over to wipe some mustard off the corner of her mouth. She turned to stare at me, broke into a grin, then grabbed for my bag of fries - which led to a playful little hand battle as I tried to bat her prying fingers away from my food.

As this was going on, and into the chit-chat that followed, several of the players shot us glances as they waited in the on-deck circle for their turn at bat.

Hannah eventually noticed their attention and asked curiously, “Why are they looking over here?”

“Because I’m sitting with a girl and talking to her.”

She looked genuinely confused. “Is that something unusual?”

“Well...” I shrugged, “I haven’t had too much luck with girls yet.”

“You’re a good looking guy, what’s the matter?”

I let out a sigh, looked down at the concrete floor and kicked some pebbles. “I get scared around girls, afraid to do the wrong thing and have them hate me. It’s been getting better, but it’s still something I struggle with.”

“You’re doing fine talking to me,” she reassured me with a warm smile.

I couldn’t deny that. Despite a few ups and downs, I had been quite at ease with her. “You’re right, but ... you’re my cousin, so I’m not trying to hit on you.”

She leaned towards me and playfully rubbed her left hand over my chest. “They don’t have to know that. What if I give you a big sloppy wet kiss? Will that help your reputation?”

The warmth of her hand on my breast, her palm rubbing over my nipple. Her touch sent a shiver down my spine.

‘Oh my God, was she just teasing me?’

My breath got a little short and I felt some stirring down below. “I’m sure it would” I gulped.

But then she suddenly pulled back, her face filled with shock. “Wait, so you’re just sitting with me to improve your reputation?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!”

She punched me in the left arm and said, “Take a chill pill, I was teasing – so what have you been doing to get more comfortable around girls?”

I swore the girl was going to kill me. “Well, my mom got a CB radio for the car last year.”

“And how does that help?”

I took a deep breath before answering, recalling the explanation I had given many times before. “Normally someone sees a girl, or a guy, and if there’s a physical attraction, you have to figure out how to go talk to them without scaring them off. On the radio, you talk first, find out who’s a nice person, then arrange a meet up to see what they look like. Then you can either ask them out or continue being friends.”

She nodded in understanding. “Does it work?”

“Definitely. It’s so much easier to just be myself, and learn to like girls for who they are, not just what they look like.”

Hannah struck a playful pose and teased, “That’s a good thing - we are much more than just our good looks! So, what’s your handle?”

“Spock.”

She looked clueless. “What’s Spock?”

I couldn’t believe it. “Really? Mr. Spock, the science officer of the Starship Enterprise?” Her blank expression remained. I continued, “Star Trek, with Captain Kirk.”

“Oh, Star Track? That Saturday morning cartoon?”

Exasperated, I buried my face in my hands and shook my head in disbelief. As I looked up again, she met my gaze with curiosity as I explained, “NOOOO! It was a TV show, from sixty-six to sixty-nine, with Kirk, Spock, Dr. McCoy, Scotty, Sulu...”

“I was like born in sixty-four, you expect me to remember that?”

She had me there. I was seven when the show started, while she was still in diapers. “Yeah, that would be a problem. But they’re coming out with a movie in December! I can’t wait to see it.”

“I’ve seen Star Wars!” Hannah exclaimed proudly.

“Not the same thing!” I retorted. The girl was going to need some re-education.

“Okay, fine. So why are you Spock?”

“He’s the science officer, the smartest guy, no emotion...”

But before I could continue, a voice called out from inside the press box, “and he’s the one who never got laid!”

I shot back, “That’s not true, there was that cave woman on the ice planet!”

Hannah gave me an incredulous look. “And this is the show you drool over?”

I couldn’t help but grin at her reaction. “You’d like it if you saw it.”

“And who was that yelling at you?”

I rolled my eyes. “My so-called friend Paul, he loves to give me shit.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave me a little stare, then returned to normal. “Can you get me some ice cream?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” A few minutes later I was jogging down the concourse, trying to get the Klondike bar to her before it started melting inside the chocolate.

As she peeled back the foil wrapper, Hannah continued with the interview. “Okay Spock, what are you taking in college?”

I appreciated that she was taking charge of the conversation. I didn’t have to contrive any witty banter and could just lean back and share my life story, as boring as that was. “Math and computer science, and I’ve taken a few econ courses as well.”

“And what kind of grades do you get?” She asked casually.

Dammit, why did she have to bring that up?. “Well, uh - not great. I have a one point eight GPA.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “One point eight? That’s a D, right? I thought you were the brainiac? Mom’s always saying how smart Joe is, Joe this, Joe that - and you have a one point eight GPA?”

Ouch, that hurt. “Math is fucking hard!”

“LAN-GUAGE!” Hannah scolded with a serious expression.

Still feeling hurt, I shot back, “Now who’s being the babysitter?”

She softened her tone and gave me a more serious look. “Well, sorry about being snippy before with the babysitter crack, but I just don’t like anyone telling me what to do. And I don’t like people swearing.”

I couldn’t resist being sarcastic. “Oh, forgive me, your Royal Highness!”

Hannah burst out laughing. “Now you’ve got it! Just remember that, and we’ll get along fine!”

That cracked me up as well, and broke the tension as we laughed together.

But then she continued - “Back to where we were – what’s so hard about math?”

I glanced away for a moment before sighing and responding “I did pretty good in high school, A’s and B’s, even took calculus in twelfth grade. I was always playing with numbers, so I thought that was what I was good at. Then I get to college and math majors not only have to know the rules, like to get the mean of a set of numbers, you add them up and divided by how many...”