Chapter 136: Another Farewell

Saturday, June 11, 1983

Angie, Cammie, Gene, and I, along with Jas and Paige (who volunteered as gofers), spent about five hours at the local library working on next year’s Debate topic. Technically speaking, a lot of things each of us wanted to cover didn’t fall into ‘criminal court procedure,’ but I had the advantage of knowing from experience that teams would run them anyway.

One case we looked at seriously concerned eyewitness testimony. Juries tend to believe eyewitnesses. The problem is, they’re wrong a surprisingly large percentage of the time. Not even just a little wrong, but often a lot wrong. There have been many cases of rape victims who were alert and focused but got the age, height, build, and even race wrong, even though they were staring at the guy the whole time. It gets worse from there.

The most common cases in that area proposed increasing procedural protections, jury instructions, and the like for eyewitness testimony. Some of the more extreme cases put it in the same category as hearsay and banned it outright except in limited circumstances.

One of my personal favorites (the first go-round, I mean, when it never could have applied to me) was a case concerning statutory rape laws. Many states had terrible statutory rape laws that made the male always the perpetrator, the female always the victim. Sixteen-year-old girl, twenty-six-year-old male teacher? Lock him up! Sixteen-year-old boy, twenty-six-year-old female teacher? Go, kid, go!

It actually got worse from there, not better. A seventeen-year-old boy could legally have sex with a fifteen-year-old girl in many states, but if he turned eighteen (even if she was sixteen)? Criminal! On the other hand, flip the genders and there was no problem. Some states’ ‘Romeo and Juliet’ laws had protections against that, but others didn’t. Many times these were sexual assault felonies that would brand the guy for life.

Gay kids and so forth just added more ridiculous wrinkles to the mix. It cried out for a uniform solution that would make sense of the mess and not make consensual teenage horniness into a felony.

Other common cases that we’d have to consider concerned the Exclusionary Rule, the use of informants or undercover agents, investigative procedures, due process in various cases, automatic review in death penalty cases, and so forth. It was a big topic, and we wanted to get ahead of it.

We wrapped up around four and made plans to head to the UH library on Monday. We’d hit Rice Tuesday or Wednesday. Most likely at least a few others would join us.

I considered inviting Dave Mayrink (and Adam, too) to join us. They were certainly opponents, but it was very early, and we’d be sharing work with potential competitors all summer at institutes. Why not build some ties across town?

The others were cautiously in favor, as long as Dave and Adam behaved themselves.

Cammie and Gene took off (not together!), and the rest of us headed to dinner. We’d decided on Italian (at the place near the school). After that, we went to the mall and shopped a bit, then saw ‘Octopussy’.

As the Roger Moore Bond movies went, it was neither terrific nor terrible. The plot was slightly over the top, but compared to movies such as ‘Moonraker’, it was comparatively plausible. I wasn’t a huge fan of the character of Octopussy herself, but Maud Adams did just fine with her.

The girls, who weren’t the biggest Bond fans, appreciated it well enough. It was good, silly fun, and Roger Moore was unquestionably sexy (or so they insisted).

Personally, my favorite Bond was Timothy Dalton. It was a shame he’d only gotten two movies, because he balanced a more modern take on Bond with just enough levity to keep things ‘Bond.’ Of course, I couldn’t mention that now.

After the movie, we went back to Jasmine’s and did a bit of undercover work of our own (Jasmine’s pun, but I approved of it), then headed home.

Sunday, June 12, 1983

I called Dave Mayrink when I got home from church. He appreciated the invitation but was busy the next week. Perhaps we’d be able to get together when I got back from Northwestern.

Mike had a party at the time when we’d usually have Study Group. Most of us came. Amit skipped because he was getting ready for Nationals. Andy and Cal both skipped because they were going to a summer football camp (one of three, I believe). Mel and the Wonder Twins had left yesterday for their family vacation, and Emily decided she’d hang out with her family, too.

Everyone else was there, and we had a good time swimming, playing games, dancing, and everything else. And, of course, those who took naps had a good time with them, I’m sure.

One thing annoyed me, and I either changed some minds or made a jerk out of myself. Probably the former.

Sarah put on ‘Every Breath You Take’ and declared it to be a romantic dance song. I saw Angie react to it the way I would have, but everyone else seemed to take it at face value.

After it finished, I said, “You know that song is about someone stalking an ex-lover, right?”

Sarah said, “What?”

Most of the others looked skeptical as well.

I broke it down, saying, “Listen. He’s singing about how someone else ‘belongs to him,’ and watching them through ‘every vow you break,’ ‘every game you play,’ and so forth. He said that ‘since you’ve been gone’ they’re all he can think about, but obviously even though they’re ‘gone’ he seems to be watching every breath they take.”

Sarah blushed about halfway through. “Wait? Seriously? I need to listen again!”

She put it on and everyone stared at the stereo.

After it finished, Cammie said, “Well, okay, then! I’m with Steve. That’s creepy!”

Sarah nodded. “I guess I didn’t really listen.”

I smiled. “It’s not the only song that sounds nice but isn’t nice at all. Debbie Harry wrote ‘One Way or Another’ from the point of view of an ex-boyfriend who wouldn’t stop chasing her.”

“I had no idea!” Sue said. “That’s ... kinda funny, and kinda creepy.”

“Yeah,” Paige said. “I vote both of those, too. They’re both really good songs. I actually think ‘Every Breath You Take’ is better with that take. It’s kinda, you know ... syrupy ... if you just take it on face value. But making it so syrupy and so creepy? That’s fucking brilliant!”

“People are playing that at their weddings,” Sarah said.

I shrugged. “I bet people will be playing it at their weddings years from now. People miss things.”

“They sure do!” Angie said.

As we were leaving, Rita said, “I heard that. I agree! That song’s creepy! I heard it that way right off. I couldn’t believe people were thinking it was all so romantic.”

Angie said, “People do that all the time, though. There are lots of stories where the plot is, basically: Guy meets girl. Guy and girl date. Girl rejects guy. Guy keeps after girl over and over and over until girl finally gives in and dates guy again. Cue happy music and hearts and flowers. Only ... are they really going to be happy?”

“Yeah,” Rita said. Some of the other girls nodded, and a few of the guys, too. “I knew couples like that back home. A few of them got divorced, remarried, got divorced, remarried. At least two of my friends’ parents told stories where they pretty much kidnapped their wives at one point or another, like it was all funny. Which, maybe it is, but then again, maybe it’s not.”

“It’s tough,” I said. “I think there’s a real problem there, but it’s hard to do anything when the victim says they’re fine with what happened.”

“Too true,” Rita said. “And sometimes you don’t really know until years later.”

On that fairly depressing note, we headed off.

When we got home, I had a letter, which I was not expecting, from Tournament of Champions. Silly me! I should have paid more attention. On the plus side, obviously Meg had also not been paying attention, which was more of a big deal. Either that, or she had and was simply not making a big deal of it.

It turned out that debaters who made it as far as semis were invited back. Since we had, we were in, with no requirement to qualify. That would make planning easy!

It was also one more little get-out-of-jail-free card, if needed, with Principal Riggs and/or the School Board. The more good things we could point to, the less they’d want any publicity that made it look like they were being mean to exemplary students.

Angie checked immediately, and she had a letter waiting, too. It looked like, for her, making finals was the key. That made sense, since every event aside from CX debate had eight entries in finals. If anything, perhaps CX should have been automatically qualified at quarterfinals? Life isn’t always fair, however.

I quickly called Cammie, then Jas, and both found that they had letters, too. Jas was going to call Carole that night. By the time I’d gotten through that, it was a bit late to call Amit, but the odds were good that he had one, too.

If I’d guessed right on Amit (and, really, how could he not be in?), we’d be in for CX, Jas and Carole would be in for Duo Acting, Angie for Humorous, and Amit for Extemp. Not even halfway through the summer and we already had six people going to ToC! Since we hadn’t even been before this year, it was pretty amazing. Meg (and Steffie) must be thrilled!

Monday, June 13, 1983

Our final turnout for the UH library run was Cammie and me, Angie and Gene, and Anne and Megan, with Jas and Paige and Calvin as gofers. Amit and his family were leaving early for Nationals, and both Linda and Debra were out of town.

We needed two cars, so Gene drove the second, taking Anne, Megan, and Calvin. His car was smaller than mine, so it made sense to put Angie in mine.

Cammie and I, Angie, and Jas were in high spirits over our return to ToC. We celebrated in the car, and a bit at UH. We tried not to be too obnoxious about it. Everyone was thrilled, of course, but we didn’t need to dwell on it.

The nine of us started in the main library, then had fast food, and then spent the afternoon in the law library. I saw more amused looks in the law library than in the main library. Surprisingly or not, it was also busier.

On the one hand, very few high school students have ever even been in a law library, and fewer know how to use one productively. On the other hand, the ones who do tend to be welcome, if amusing.

One thing I remembered during this trip was that, while Professor Berman had a strong connection to Northwestern’s Evanston campus, the law school itself was in downtown Chicago. We wouldn’t be able to use their law school over the summer, which was likely going to be a particular handicap for this topic. I didn’t remember it being a problem in my first life, though, but I couldn’t remember why it wasn’t a problem.

We left with a big pile of photocopies and some interesting thoughts about topics.

Since we were out in the UH area, we decided to get dim sum for dinner. Houston’s Chinatown still had a few years left in the downtown area, after all, though the new Bellaire Chinatown was under construction and a few businesses had already opened out there. In the long term, that would be better for me, but until the late 1980s, when the new freeway opened, downtown was actually much more accessible for someone who lived where I did than Bellaire would be. The new freeway would change a lot of things that way.

It was obvious who was a dim sum veteran and who wasn’t. I was the most veteran of us all, but Angie, Jas, Anne, and Calvin all knew what they were doing. Paige, Megan, Cammie, and Gene were more tentative but handled it just fine. It’s not that it’s all that complicated, it’s just knowing which dumpling is which and what things to leave to the experts.

Pretty much, everyone liked everything, and the non-experts were surprised by how little it cost to get pleasantly stuffed with very tasty food.

Towards the end of dinner, we decided to take tomorrow off and make Wednesday the Rice library day. That made sense. No need to rush, not now.

I ran my carload home after dinner. Angie and I got home just in time to say goodnight to Mom and Dad. I liked it when we could manage that. We missed their bedtime about as often as I was really comfortable with. When you’re not yet eighteen, everything is at least potentially a test, and while both of them wanted Angie and me to be confident in our expanded freedoms, they also needed to know that we wouldn’t abuse them and knew they were privileges, not rights.

9:30pm

Angie slipped in, wearing some new-looking pale green satin PJs that I’d never seen, rubbed noses, then climbed into bed.

“That was fun,” she said.

“It was,” I said. “Tiring and all, but fun.”

“I meant the dinner,” she said, giggling a little.

“That, too.”

“The rest was fun, too. There’s some interesting stuff there.”

“We haven’t talked much about you and CX next year,” I said.

“You mean because of me and Gene splitting up?”

“And two summers of Drama workshops.”

She nodded. “We’re coming back next year. Paige doesn’t want to learn how to Debate and Gene doesn’t want to find another partner. Sue doesn’t want to ditch Amit, either. We actually talked about trading me and Sue, but we all think it would be better to keep going with what we’ve got. It’s hard to replace two years of working with someone. That, and now no one’s cussing out their dating partner if they fuck up.”