Chapter 17: Oral Arguments

September 20, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“How are you feeling?” I asked Mr. Nelson when he arrived on Monday morning.

“I feel pretty good, but we’ll see what my cardiologist says this afternoon. He’s going to do an EKG, and if it’s clear, I’ll be back full-time tomorrow.”

“How is your exercise routine going?”

“I’m still mostly walking and lifting very light weights. I’ll be able to do more once I’m cleared, which, hopefully, will happen today. Of course, that doesn’t fix the problem that I can’t eat anything I really like, can’t drink beer, and can’t smoke cigars — the things that make life worth living!”

“Sex?”

He laughed, “When you’ve been married as long as I have, you either resign yourself to less or look outside. I don’t play games like most guys here.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Thirty-two years. We married right before I shipped out to Korea.”

“How long were you there?”

“Too long. I was with 3rd Battalion, 5th Marines when they went into Incheon. We landed on ‘Green Beach’ on Wolmido Island. I took a piece of shrapnel in the leg the day before we re-took Seoul and I was shipped home. So I was on Korean soil for about ten days because I was evac’d to Japan. Came home, went to college, we started our family, and here I am.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“Three, all older than you. My eldest is a Marine Gunnery Sergeant; my daughter is a grade school teacher; my youngest is a ne’r-do-well ambulance chaser!”

“Attorney?”

“Specializing in ‘slip and fall’ injuries; you know, wet floor at Fields, old lady breaks her hip, gets millions, even though it was raining cats and dogs and she was wearing shoes with leather soles and not using her cane.”

“Grandkids?”

“Four so far, and my daughter is working on number five, which is her second.”

“Where is your son stationed?”

“Okinawa. The other two are here in Chicago.”

“Sounds like a great family.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for a month in Saint Martin with all the girls on the 32nd floor!”

“Hmm...” I chuckled.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied with a grin. “But given my health, that might just kill me!”

“But what a way to go!”

“You’re avoiding them like the plague since Rachel Kealty left.”

“I don’t need that kind of trouble.”

“I hear you. How is your Series 3 class going?”

“A lot of review from what I learned from the training manuals, so the real benefit is that they’re teaching to the test, so I know what to expect. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble passing. Then I’ll ask for sponsorship for the Series 7 license exam.”

“Just give me until next June.”

“You know that’s up to Mr. Matheson and Mr. Spurgeon, but I won’t have my Series 7 until the end of the year, at the earliest.”

“And your computer class?”

“That’s going really well. I already have the spreadsheet for courier charges mostly working. I’ve been doing some of it at home because I can focus better there.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to take over the other reporting. I’ll be happy to get that shit off my plate!”

“Will do.”

“How is Singh doing?”

“He’s a keeper, though he’s going to school full-time next Fall, so we’ll lose him, as we discussed. O’Day isn’t having any trouble, and Extra-Strength Tylenol keeps the pain manageable for him. Clinton is basically ready to take over for me when the time comes.”

“Keep up the good work, Kane!”

“Yes, Boss!”

I left his office and went to the mailroom to begin my work for the day.

September 21, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Mr. Nelson returned to work full time on Tuesday, which took a bit of pressure off me. When I left work that afternoon to meet Violet, I still hadn’t come to a conclusion about what to do about the conversation I’d had with Marcia. Really, it came down to one thing — how much looking into the situation would upset my mom. I wondered how she’d react to me simply asking for my dad’s name, but also wondered if that was enough information, combined with the knowledge that he was from Missouri.

I really needed Anala’s advice, but with our schedules, there simply wasn’t any time to get together. That was mostly my fault, because I was so busy with work, school, my licensure course, and Huifen. I didn’t mind being busy, but I really wanted to find some time to talk to Anala. I hoped once I took the test in October, we’d be able to get together.

“Hi!” Violet exclaimed when I walked into the diner.

“Hi,” I replied.

She gave me a quick hug, then the hostess seated us in what had become our booth on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and our usual waitress, Jody, took our orders.

“You remember I said I was going to stop seeing Doctor Lochner once we started class, right?” Violet asked once we had our glasses of root beer.

“Yes.”

“I told her last night.”

“I bet that went over well,” I replied with a touch of sarcasm in my voice.

“She was expecting it, I think, but you’re right about her being unhappy. Today I told the social worker I no longer need any help; well, for me, because my sister obviously still needs help. But the social worker will turn her over to the Public Guardian and close the case.”

“What does that mean?”

“That the State is responsible for my sister, but I’m basically on my own, completely.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Strange, really, because I’ve had to report in to a psychologist and a social worker ever since my parents were arrested. But I feel free, and you helped a lot!”

“If you’re happy, I’m happy,” I replied. “What’s next?”

“Two classes per semester, including the Summer, working, and figuring out what I want in the way of a career.”

“Any thoughts?”

“Not stock trading!” she said with a soft laugh. “Or the military.”

“Something to do with childcare or education?”

“Maybe. I really like our computer class, but I’m not sure that’s what I want to do. I have time to think about it, because I’ll take the core courses. That means I need a science course, an English course, a general humanities, and a math. But I can use whatever you take as an elective.”

“I’m thinking statistics, but I think I need to take another math class first. I have to check the prerequisites. I’ll worry about that in November.”

We had our meal, then headed to class where, in addition to our usual weekly assignment, we were given our ‘project’ for the semester, which was a ‘team’ project. Teams could consist of two or three students, and Violet and I both agreed we’d stick to our duo.

“What kind of game do you think we should design?” she asked as we walked to the computer lab after class.

“That’s a good question. I don’t want to get too much into graphics, like that golf game he showed us tonight.”

“Blackjack would be pretty simple, right? I mean, I know there are a basic set of rules for when to hit and when to stand.”

“I know the game,” I replied, “but I’ve never really played.”

“It wouldn’t be heavy graphics, just shuffling the deck, dealing the cards, and tracking the player’s wins and losses, and total money.”

“I’m OK with that, I think.”

“We don’t have to decide right away,” Violet said. “So, just think about it and we’ll decide next Tuesday. We don’t have to turn in our proposed project until Thursday of next week.”

Once again we were in the computer lab until it closed at midnight, and when we finished, we walked to my car, I drove Violet the short distance to her house, and walked her to the door. She gave me a hug, went inside, and I headed back to the car for the drive home.

September 24, 1982, Chicago, Illinois and Kenosha, Wisconsin

Marcia had left a message for me on Thursday night, but I didn’t get it until I’d arrived home after midnight. She’d left both her home and office numbers, and I took advantage of my supervisory role to make a call from my desk to Congressman Washington’s office during my morning break.

“Thanks for returning my call.”

“I only have a few minutes,” I said. “I’m at work.”

“I was a bit concerned after Friday and I just wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m doing OK,” I replied.

“If you’re free after work, we could get a drink and a bite to eat?”

“Did you forget I’m not even twenty?”

“So we’ll go to Wisconsin! You can drink at eighteen there. I know a pub in Kenosha that serves great food.”

Bianca and Shelly had invited me to a party, and I’d said I would go, but they also wouldn’t be upset if I changed my mind. The only downside I could see of going out with Marcia was that she’d want to talk about my dad. I still hadn’t decided what to do, but she could provide me with answers to questions about how I’d need to go about finding out more about him.

“Sure,” I replied. “I have my car.”

“You work in the Hancock Center, right?”

“Yes.”

“I can meet you in the lobby at 5:15pm. Does that work?”

“Yes.”

“See you then.”

After saying ‘goodbye’, I hung up and got back to work. At lunch, I called home and left a message for Bianca and Shelly to let them know that I wasn’t going to the party. The afternoon passed quickly, as they usually did when we were busy, and at the end of the workday I went down to the lobby to wait for Marcia, who arrived a few minutes late.

“Sorry,” she said. “I just missed the L by about ten seconds and had to wait for the next one.”

“It’s OK. My car is in the parking garage. Where are we going?”

“North on the Kennedy to the Edens, then north to Kenosha; take exit 345 and follow Highway C to Wilmot. I’ll tell you the turns once we get off the expressway.”

Ninety minutes later, we walked into the pub. I was surprised that Marcia hadn’t raised the subject of my dad, and we’d just chatted about our work, my courses, the Bears, the Bulls, the Hawks, and baseball. After we were seated, we ordered burgers, fries, and a pitcher of beer.

“I have a question that maybe you can answer,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“If I found out my dad’s name, what else would you need to know to help find him?”

“Do you know where he was flying?”

“No. I know nothing except he was a traveling salesman and was from Missouri. I can probably safely ask my mom for his name, but asking more than that might upset her, and that’s what I want to avoid.”

“Well, my friend at the FAA in DC could probably look up the plane crashes from 1962 and see if he was listed on a manifest. It might take some time because she might have to pull the files from the records. They aren’t all computerized, though some are. I’m not sure how far back they’ve gone so far with entering them into the computer.”

“That will prove if he was on a plane, right?”

“Along with his hometown, and possibly his company name, or even his address, depending on the records, the airline turned over.”

“And if he’s not on those, what did you call them?”

“Flight manifests. They’re lists of every passenger and member of the crew on a flight. If he’s not on any of them, then it means either he wasn’t on a commercial flight or he didn’t give your mom his correct name. If he was on a private flight, I don’t know if my friend would be able to find it, because record-keeping requirements were minimal for private planes, and the files for those are often incomplete. If you could find out the name of the company he worked for, that would be the easiest, assuming they’re still in business.”

“Would they have records back that far?”

“Most places keep at least a list of employees, and there might still be someone there who remembers him.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, and it sounds like a longshot.”

“You don’t want to know?”

“Until you did the math I’d never done, I never cared. I’m not sure I care now. And if I find him, then what?”

“You do realize it’s possible he didn’t even know you were born, right?”

“Oh, I can see that going well! Just show up and announce to him that he has a twenty-year-old son. And, to be honest, I don’t need a dad. There was a point, about a year ago, when I thought I did, but I worked through the difficulties I was having. I have a few good friends who give good advice.”

“You’re not upset with me, are you?”

“I’m drinking beer and waiting to eat burgers with you. How upset could I be?”

“Young men aren’t known for behaving rationally!”

“You realize we say the same thing about women, right? The difference is we grow out of it!”

“Hey, now!” Marcia protested.

“You started it!” I replied as the waitress brought our burgers and fries.

“That’s so mature!”

“It’s true! You did start it!”

“You’re a real smart ass!”

“I take that as a compliment!”

“You would!” Marcia declared.

“And you can stop worrying about me, Mom.”

“You did not just say that!”

“It’s so easy to yank your chain!” I chuckled.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Asks the woman who invited me into her place and tried very hard to get me to agree, then called me for a date!”

“A date?”

“What do you call it when someone of the opposite sex asks you to go out for beer and a burger on a Friday night? Where I’m from, we call that a date!”

“Did you think I was asking you out?”

“You did ask me out!”

“Technically,” Marcia admitted.

“You are easy to wind up! I didn’t read anything into this except for you being intrigued about my past more than I am, in fact. But your reaction says you are interested.”

“Talk about an ego!”

“Deny it,” I replied with a grin.

“Are you that desperate for attention?”

“No,” I smirked. “Are you?”

“Don’t you think you’re a bit young for me?”

“You obviously didn’t because you asked me out on a date!”

“Will you stop?!” Marcia demanded, but she was laughing softly.

“Never! But you’re the one who seems obsessed with what asking me out means. I’m simply enjoying my burger, fries, and beer.”

“And giving me a hard time!”

“That is what you seem to want!” I replied with a smirk.

“Somebody is full of themselves!”

“I may not be twenty yet, but I don’t think that’s how it works,” I teased.

“Can we be serious for a moment?” Marcia asked, sounding a bit exasperated.

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you really think I was inviting you in to have sex?”

I shrugged, “I suppose, in the sense that it crossed my mind because inviting someone in for a drink is one of those euphemisms TV and movies use for asking to have sex without asking to have sex, if you get my drift. But I didn’t take your invitation as an offer that would automatically be fulfilled simply because I agreed to have a drink with you.

“It’s the same with you asking me to have beer and burgers tonight. Obviously, when a young woman asks me to get together, I think that she might be interested. Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t, but typically it means she’s at least interested in exploring a relationship which could be anything from friendship to business to sex, and it could well be some combination of the three. The only way to find out is to accept the invitation and see what happens.”

“Why do you sound like you’re analyzing a stock trade or something like that?”

“Isn’t everything in life about analyzing the situation and determining the most profitable course of action? I don’t just mean money, because there are other things of value which you can obtain besides money. In a sense, everything has a price and everything is an exchange of value, but price and value can be things other than money.”

“That’s a strange way to look at the world.”

“Is it? When you decide if you want to go out with a guy or be friends with someone or buy something or whatever, you decide based on what you think is in your best interest and best meets your needs. I suppose I’m more purposefully analytical, but you do the same thing, even if you don’t put it in terms of price and value. In the end, the question ‘Do I want to do this?’ or ‘Is it worth it?’ come down to a decision on perceived value.”

“And you think you’re worth it?”

“Irrelevant! The question is whether or not you think I’m worth it! Obviously, I have to ask the same question about you, but what I think about me has zero impact on what you think about me, unless my self-image creates a problem for you, which, in this case, I don’t think it does. And even then, you’d still have to decide if it’s worth it or not.”

“Guys don’t think about that! If it’s put on offer, they take it every time!”

“I beg to differ,” I replied. “For example, once I marry, I’ll be completely faithful. And, another example, I’d never get involved with a married woman. There are other reasons to say ‘no’ as well. Also, in my experience, there are women who are just as interested in sex as men, but society holds men and women to different standards.”

“Men are studs and women are sluts?”

“That’s the one. It’s bunk.”

“Very enlightened. What’s your value proposition, as you put it?”

“Jeri felt you, Gary, and Nelson would be good choices for me to start building contacts, and you heard her plan.”

“World domination!” Marcia said, shaking her head.

I wondered about that, given everything that Jeri had said about wanting to go into computers and not take over her mom’s foundation. The one way I could reconcile it was the restrictive covenant that limited her access to her personal funds until she was twenty-five. For me, the key was the opportunity to manage her money, and that could happen no matter what.

“I’ll settle for financial success for me, political success for you and Gary, and legal success, whatever that means, for Nelson.”