Addendum-Charleston

The grieving process for the family had started, but the grieving process for the official governmental nonsense had just begun. Trying to get together all the paperwork at short notice that indicated that we had a legally-usable burial plot on our land was a pain in the ass. The coroner and Cheryl got into an argument. She wanted him to leave the body, so that we could bury it on our family plot.

The coroner, who didn’t know our family at all, tried to convince us that legally, the body had to be taken to a funeral home. Astonishingly, this funeral home was owned by the coroner’s brother. The fascinating thing is that we had checked out all the laws when we moved to bury my mother on the plot, and ... there were no state laws, there were no county laws, and our land was in an unincorporated area, so no town laws exist whatsoever.

John interrupted him and introduced himself to the coroner.

“Hi,” he said, offering his hand, “I’m John Sorenson.”

“Hello, Mr. Sorensen,” the coroner shook his hand.

“I thought you might be interested in knowing my profession.”

“Why would that be, Mr. Sorenson?”

“Because I’m an attorney,” John smiled at him, “And we researched the laws you are claiming to represent when we established a burial plot on our land. You and I both know that what you are selling is complete nonsense. So please give the death certificate to my father, and then vacate our premises.”

“It may not be legally required,” the coroner said, “But it is certainly custom. You need to be licensed to embalm-”

“Death certificate,” I intoned, “Now, please.”

“It would be illegal to embalm somebody without a license!”

“Who said anything about embalming?” I replied, “We’re just going to put the body in a coffin and place it in the ground. If you don’t give me the death certificate in a timely manner, you are free to join him.”

The coroner quickly filled out the death certificate, signed it, and handed it to me. Usually North Dakota was not a world full of the most obnoxious of bureaucracy. But I guess that is not always true. Especially when the brother owns a business they are trying to force you to patronize.

The family sat for several hours talking about my dad and his contribution to the family and all the good times we had. Jimmy volunteered to the build the coffin, and we all agreed we would commit him to the ground the next day.

My father’s integration in to the family had been ... interesting to say the least. My family was weird, and he was bothered by that considerably. He was angry that I had not reconnected with him sooner and shared with him the life I had built; and he had not been entirely sure that Cheryl and her kids had not played a substantial part in that. I mean, I can understand that; a woman so focused on family, and yet not forcing me to introduce my blood family would seem a bit weird.

I thought back to the first night we spent together on Cheryl’s farm. He invited me into the room he was given and sat me down on the bed, and he sat on the dressing chair in the room. He turned on the ceiling fan, which caused a mess because it hadn’t been turned on since late summer and was dusty as heck. We both spent a good time coughing; he obviously meant it as a white noise machine. I didn’t bother to explain to him that the soundproofing in the house was not great.

“They are really nice people, Johnny,” he said, “I mean, the house is so ... full of love and life. Everyone seems to be so ... loving towards each other. Cheryl in particular, so captivating with how warm and loving she is, and how much everyone here almost dotes on her. I can see why you found these people, and how you formed a family with them.”

He was pondering, trying to say something he knew would upset me, and he didn’t want to upset me. But he was upset by this, and it was a question he really wanted answered. I sort of knew what he was working to, so I decided to give him a hand.

“You want to know why I chose to join this family, instead of coming home to you?”

“Yes,” he replied, looking relieved.

“That’s not an easy question,” I answered, “And requires me to tell you things you are not going to like about me. The short answer is by the time my relationship with the people here started to turn into what it is, I was convinced you would be ashamed of me, if not outright hate me. I wasn’t the boy you loved anymore, not by a long stretch.”

“I think I want to know that anyway,” he said, “But lets move that aside for a moment, and assume that what you are talking about would bring about revulsion from your own parents. Why would it not bring revulsion from these people?”

“I am not a part of normal society,” I explained, “I have a moral code that I developed over the years that is very different than that of general American society. I’m comfortable with it, and it is not entirely self-serving. I became 90 degrees from everybody else. Cheryl also has her own moral code, which does not fit into general society, and in many ways it aligns with my own. There are differences, but ... it’s close enough to accept the differences.”

“How did you come to be comfortable enough to share the differences with her?”

“I didn’t,” I said, “Until it became clear to me that she had deduced most of them on her own. The main difference between our codes is that I did things to try and fix what I thought was wrong with society, while she decided to avoid it entirely. When you hate society enough to move your entire family an hour and half from civilization and raise them your own way, you can understand that revulsion taking a different form, I guess.”

“I can accept that you have a different moral code,” my father said, “We could have both accepted that, don’t you realize that?”

“I’m not sure you could have,” I said, “Sometimes I had trouble accepting it myself. I had an echo chamber in Rachel. She kept pushing my boundaries until I didn’t have them anymore. I wasn’t revolted by what I became, but I was ... disturbed by how comfortable I became with what I was.”

“Was Rachel what kept you away from us for so long?”

“That is a possible interpretation of the facts,” I admitted, “She didn’t want to meet you, and she didn’t think you’d tolerate what I became, too. She ... her parents were monsters, dad. They were part of what pushed her in this direction. They pushed me even though I had never met them. How can you hate your own child because somebody else raped them? How can you hate that enough that you cause a miscarriage of your own grandchild? It’s ... barbaric.”

“That is barbaric,” my father agreed, “What have you done that you think would disgust me so?”

“I’d rather wait until you become more comfortable with my family, is that ok?”

“You will tell me eventually?”

“Yes,” I said, “You deserve to know who I am. But you need to understand my world.”

The integration process was slow. He seemed to get a bit uncomfortable as he began to realize the connections of some of the relationships within the family. After being with the family for several days, Cheryl had convinced him that he should come live on the farm. He was uncomfortable with how some of his grandkids were ... but he had accepted them as his grandkids. Largely because they had fully accepted him as their grandfather.

Cheryl left with him; she put me decisively in charge of the family for that time. I had told her that the job should pass to Jason, but she wouldn’t have it. The family accepted it, although there were no real issues where I needed to wield my “authority”. The Mahoneys were a repudiation of Machiavelli; they all lived together and worked together purely out of love, and never out of fear.

When they came back ... oh dear god when they came back. They drove my dad’s 1982 240D all the way back ... I mean, I assume Cheryl did almost all of the driving. My father’s eyes shown with love for Cheryl. She reciprocated it. I didn’t know what happened, but I was a little ... disturbed by it. And it bothered several other family members too. There was discussion about it in private.

Those exploded when he moved into her bedroom. Even more when he spent the night there. We all assumed they were having sex, and I was a bit uncomfortable with my dad having sex with a woman I had children with. I felt compelled to accept it, but I was uncomfortable with it. But she put us all straight one night at dinner.

“OI’ve been ‘earin’ all o’ yer goin’ on,” Cheryl said, “About me and yor granddad. OI want ter fix yer roit up. Oi am not shaggin’ ‘im. Oi am done ‘avin’ laddies, that’s for all o’ yer. Oi ‘ave been lonely, and so ‘as ‘e. Oi luv ‘im and Oi enjoy ‘is company at night.”

“Whatever makes you happy, mom,” Jason said. Everyone agreed. She had as much right to not be lonely and to be happy as any of us ... if not more.

After Kelly and I got back from our honeymoon, Cheryl and my dad’s relationship had fully solidified. He was distinctly part of the family, and no longer seemed uncomfortable with it. He even helped out around the house in the limited capacity his physical condition allowed for ... although that actually seemed to be improving a bit. He actually walked up the stairs to Cheryl’s room himself.

I invited him into the workshop, mostly for a bit of privacy.

“Do you still want to know what I’ve done?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said, “And you don’t need to worry about losing me. I can understand why you’d believe they’d accept you but not us.”

“I’m still worried,” I said, “But you have the right to know. Dad, I’ve killed people. Let’s start with that.”

“In the life you’d been living, that’s not surprising,” my dad said, though looking a bit upset, “You do things you have to, to survive.”

“I didn’t have to kill some of them, dad,” I said, “I killed them because I felt they deserved to die. Not just killed people. Other people, for similar reasons, I’ve grievously injured or tortured. I don’t regret it. I am proud of it.”

“What did they do?”

“Various things. I killed a priest who molested children,” I said, “I maimed terribly a man who dealt pot to middle schoolers, laced with harder drugs. I broke all the limbs of a gang member who killed a friend of Rachel’s while trying to rob a store. I killed the man who killed Rachel; I chased him down and killed him. I didn’t have to, I wanted to. I killed a man who was trying to kill me and Rachel. There were others.”

“Do you feel remorse at all?”

“For what?” I asked, “They were all horrible people. The world is better off without them. Most or all of them would have gotten away scot-free without me. I feel pride, dad. That’s the part I knew you couldn’t handle.”

“Rachel was like this, too?” My dad was very disturbed, I could tell.

“More than me,” I said, “It ended up being one of the reasons I loved her so much. She had the strength to do these things even when I didn’t. How can we as a society accept people like this walking the earth, unpunished? We killed and destroyed so many people, and we’ve never been caught. Do you know how many murderers, child molesters, rapists, destroyers of worlds, are allowed to just walk free on the earth? She wouldn’t let them; I was usually too nervous to take care of them.”

“I can accept this, Johnny,” he said, “I can see your heart is pure in what you did. Cheryl told me you were going to tell me something that was going to test me, and that I should just totally trust the goodness of your heart when it happened. But I understand why you couldn’t come home feeling that way. Your mother, god rest her soul, she could never have come to grips with this. I couldn’t have until just now.”

We embraced. We were both crying. He understood now what some of my life had been like. I was happy, but my demons were destructive. I couldn’t accept the world as I saw it. I wanted to do something about it, sometimes the urge overcame my fear, and I would just do something about it. He understood.

The years went on, and my father’s relationship with our family was such that you would never know he hadn’t been part of it from the very beginning. He spoiled all his grandkids rotten with love, affection, toys, and support. He was a convert; he believed in the system Cheryl had created for raising kids.

So much so, he sided with Kelly, Jason, and Samantha at the family meeting where we decided that we had to socialize the kids more normally. He believed that the happiness our family had was so exceptional, so special, that it was worth the consequences. He was the voice who managed to get the family to agree to a split decision; to allow each parent to choose how to have it done.

He was the glue that held us together during that period, ironically. Mary Ann had been included, and her attitude was that half-blood relations shouldn’t be having children. She had been showing such disgust for that part of our family, and she almost had Jimmy on her side. He was the one who converted Jimmy to believing that we couldn’t break up or force limits on members of our family- and especially who they loved.

He turned the whole conversation back to what it was supposed to be about: creating a social environment where the kids were more likely and able to find partners outside of our enclosed world. He passionately talked about how love was what this family was about, not conforming to the outside world’s ideas of how people should be. We needed to inspire and encourage love of others, outside of the family- not discourage love- of any kind.

“Mary Ann,” he said, “This is a family that has long frowned on institutionalized education. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” she said, “It’s really not very healthy for children-”

“Nonsense!” He responded, “Do these kids look unhealthy to you? If the world got along like this family did, most of its problems would have been over long ago! But my point is, we frown on the kind of education you do. But Jimmy, he wanted to learn that way, and he met you, and he fell in love with you. Did we frown upon you? Did we tell Jimmy, ‘No, you should not marry that teacher, she is an instrument of things we don’t believe in!’. No, we welcomed you into our family!

“I was at your wedding! We were all so happy for you,” he continued, “You love Jimmy, we can all see that plain as day. He loves you. Everything else was a moot point to us. We all endeavored to build that house for you, didn’t we? We not only accepted you; we welcomed you.”

“I’m scared of having children here,” Mary Ann said somberly, “I’m afraid they are going to get involved with other children in the family. We need to set boundaries on that.”

“Boundaries are unfair,” my dad said, “We should discourage half-siblings and direct-siblings from having children. I agree with that. But what would be wrong if Kelly and Johnny had a kid who fell in love with a kid you and Jimmy have? There is no blood relationship there. Why discourage it, let alone prevent it? We should encourage out of family relationships.”

“We should more than encourage it,” I said, “We should strongly encourage it. In fact, we should strongly discourage intra-family marriages. But I do not believe in boundaries. Ultimately, it’s not up to us; its up to the kids. If they fall in love and commit to each other, I am not going to stand in their way. None of us should. But we should afford them every opportunity to develop friendships and relationships outside of this farm. Under the current system, it is like they have no choice.”

Ultimately, that is what we all agreed to- except for Jason and Samantha.

With everything for tomorrow’s funeral settled, I rounded up my kids to put them back in my van. Josh and Rachel begged us to let them stay over at the farm; since they wouldn’t be going to school, it was hard to object to it.

Jeffery, Lenny, and Mary got back into the van, and Kelly placed Lucy back in her child seat. She was up to driving, so I ceded the wheel to her. I was tired and depressed anyway. Kelly was a decent driver, actually, if a bit fast for my taste.

As we drove along the dirt roads heading back to Fargo, my mind wandered back to a family trip we took two years ago.

Kelly, Josh, Lenny, Rachel, Mary, and I piled into my 2009 Sprinter for our trip to the train station. We were going to be spending three days in Charleston, South Carolina, at the Francis Marion, and then spend four days out on Hilton Head Island, at the Sonesta Resort. I drove the van the relatively short distance to the train station. It was about 1:30 in the morning, and Amtrak said the train was running on time.

We would be taking the Empire Builder to Chicago, and then catching the Capitol Limited to Washington, where we would catch the Silver Meteor to Charleston. Our only tight connection was the 3:55 PM to 6:40 PM connection east bound in Chicago, and that would be ok because we already heard the train was running pretty much on time. We had reserved the Family Room and the #14 roomette, which was right next to it.

The train pulled in, and Josh and Rachel raced on and grabbed roomette 14, Josh taking the upper berth; I was too tired to argue with them as they shut the door on us. Kelly and I quickly installed the little bar thing I created for Mary and put her on the lower side berth, and Lenny took the upper side berth. I took the lower lateral berth because I was larger than Kelly, and she took the upper lateral berth.

I was thinking even then about the closeness between Josh and Rachel. They were best friends; had been much of their lives. They got along with Jeffery and Jared pretty well, too. Jeffery, however, was busy with his restaurant, and Jared had recently met a girl named Linda who worked at the feed store in the afternoons and he had been hot on her. We had already talked as a family about avoiding incestuous relationships, and guys and girls can be friends.

The next morning we got up for breakfast, and Josh and Rachel got sat with another couple, while the rest of us sat in one booth. We had to be split up, so it made sense to put the two teenagers in the off booth. Food was typical mediocre Amtrak fare of the time. The scenery by this point was rather bland; we pulled in to St. Paul Union Station around the time we got seated in the dining car.

After breakfast, Kelly took the kids to the Sightseer Lounge, while I waylaid Josh and Rachel to the sleeping car for a discussion of sleeping arrangements. We had booked two double bed rooms at both hotels, I just wanted to cover topics such as ... whether we needed an adult in each room, or whether we could trust Josh and Rachel to stay in the same bed. All three parents involved in the creation of those kids had been stubborn people ... and those genes certainly carried over.

“We were supposed to have an adult in both rooms, guys, and you two kind of commandeered the Roomette.”

“Yep,” said Rachel, “We did.” Rachel was over 6’1” tall, making it hard to call her “Little Rachel” as both me and Kelly had been doing for years. Her doctor had told me it was possible she might actually end up taller than me. And she was a chunky woman, in terms of muscles. She looked like ... a bigger, taller, more muscular Kelly, but with my green eyes. She also got a little of my hot blood, and had a hard time making friends. She was scary to her classmates.

Josh looked shockingly like his mother, but he was already taller than me then, at 6’4”; He’s 6’6” now. Unlike her, he was sort of nerdy, and not particularly athletic. He is lanky, frail, and gangly; he lacked his mother’s coordination. He was very sweet, a gentle giant. But his face was almost a carbon copy of his mothers; huge nose, huge ears, huge mouth, large eyes, defined dimples, large chin, tall forehead. He needed glasses, he wore cheaters.

“We had this talk a while ago about how it’s not good for you to be so close to each other-”

“We heard you, dad,” Josh said, “Truly, and if we manage to make friends with the ignorant racists in our school, we’ll spend less time together. But since everyone calls me ‘Big Jew’ in school, and they all call Rachel ‘The Amazon’, it’s a little hard to make friends.”

“Who called you ‘Big Jew’ again?” Rachel steamed, “They won’t be calling you that again anytime soon, I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Josh said, “We aren’t going to make friends that way.”

I felt for them. I had a hard time when I was in school myself. They didn’t fit in to the school world. I remember Suzie, back in grade school ... well she had a distinct speech impediment, which she worked hard to overcome, and had by her early teen years. But they all rode her for it to the point of silliness. Punching someone in her defense when we were really young was actually where our friendship started.

“I should talk to the principal about it...”

“Dad,” Rachel said, “Not only do they make fun of us, they make fun of Jeffery too, for quitting school and starting that restaurant. Just leave it. Josh is gonna graduate next year and be at college, and I’m gonna be working on the farm, and that’ll be the end of it.”

They both walked out and towards the sightseer lounge. I felt bad because I knew it was their battle to fight. I remembered what it was like only having one person I felt I could rely on in school. I knew what my father must have felt like back then on the cruise: “What were we going to do? Break apart your only friendships?”

Lunch was typical Amtrak lunch faire; burgers were had all around. I was fine with us continuing the arrangements we had with Josh and Rachel. They definitely seemed more like friends than lovers.

We pulled into Chicago about an hour and a half late, at 5:19 PM. We were immediately given boarding on the Capitol Limited, and dinner was served before the train even departed the station. The food was basically exactly the same as on the Empire Builder, and it was perfectly acceptable. I had the “Surf & Turf”, a steak and a crab cake. Both were ok, but not great. We all had some fun in the lounge car before turning in about 10.

The trip aboard the Capitol Limited was relatively uneventful, and it pulled in on time. We took a crowded taxi to the Smithsonian Science Museum and spent a few hours having fun checking out its exhibits. We ate dinner at the Thunder Grill in Washington Union Station, and boarded our train, which was already 30 minutes late, at 8 PM.

The Silver Meteor, being a Viewliner sleeper train, required a different sleeping arrangement. We had three roomettes. Josh and Rachel were in Roomette 9, Kelly and Mary in Roomette 11, and Lenny and I in roomette 12. We will leave the discussion of the in-room toilet to another time.

We pulled into Charleston about two hours late; that was a positive because it meant we could sleep a bit later. The scheduled time of 4:51 AM would be a bit early even for me. We got a taxi to the Francis Marion hotel where we had two rooms waiting for us; Lenny and I sat in the front seat with the driver, Kelly sat in the middle of the back seat with Mary in her arms, Rachel and Josh to either side of her.

The Francis Marion Hotel is a historic hotel, and one of the tallest buildings in Charleston. It was opened in 1924, and was the fanciest hotel in the Carolinas at its opening. It also became the first fully air conditioned hotel in Charleston in 1952. Although it had an extensive renovation in 1996, the hotel remains in a format largely as designed making it a very interesting place to stay.