Chapter 1

I'd like to say that I remember what happened from the Eighth of May,1942 until the Eighth of May 1945.

I don't. Nothing much really mattered back then.

Except for That day ... the Eighth of May, 1945.

My dad was washing the 1939 Mercury.

The lilacs were in bloom and there were tulips in most yards. The trees were in leaf the grass was green ... the bees were busy propagating. Or so they tell me. Since my town was like that every May for years I have no reason to believe it wasn't happening in 1945.

In 1937, intending to bridge the enormous price gap between the highest trimmed Ford and the base price Lincoln, Ford started a new company. After market testing more than 200 possible names they chose Mercury. The Mercury was projected to be a more luxurious version of the company's mainline car, the Ford. The first year production for sale was 1939. Mercury began production of the 1939 model in 1938, with a 239 cubic inch, 95 horsepower flathead V8. Over 65,800 were sold the first year, at a price of $916.

Daddy bought the first Mercury, a two door model, from Bob Cowan Mercury, a brand new Auto Dealer in our little town.

The Merc was an all new car, sharing no body panels with either Ford or Lincoln. It was bigger than the Ford and smaller than the Lincoln. It came 'equipped.' It had a heater, a radio that usually worked, vacuum windshield wipers and whitewall tires. The highest priced Ford could be bought with a heater ... for an added price, a radio ... for an added price, hand cranked wipers ... for an added price and you could buy whitewalls from the Dealer.

Oh, yes ... the Merc was Green! That was 16 dollars extra. That was the car daddy was washing in the driveway while listening to a ballgame on the car radio ... all the way from Detroit ... when the news announcer said. "We interrupt this broadcast for a special announcement."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States,..." The president announced the end of the war in Europe ... V.E. Day.

The reason I recall that day? It was my birthday, I was three ... I didn't remember the birthday ... but I remember my dad scooping me up from the rose trellis where I was playing ... he plopped me on his shoulders and marched downtown. He started shaking hands with shop owners, bankers and farmers ... and girls let out of high school were kissing everybody ... me ... daddy ... me ... daddy ... me. I was a bottle baby and never had the comfort of a milk full breast ... but I remember grabbing several that day. It was exciting ... it was traumatic ... it was indelible.

From 1945 to 1947 nothing much happened. Nothing memorable. Then school traumatized me again. After I had proved I could read at an eighth grade level they skipped me over kindergarten and right to the first grade ... with Grace. Grace was a smart cookie ... I just remembered things.

There is a very big difference in size between kindergartners and first graders. In fact ... there was a big difference between all grades. Kids grow fast ... but it takes forever.

I was kind of little and most of the first graders were pretty big ... except for Grace. Even though we were five, we were both smaller than most of the five year old kindergartners.

The kindergartners resented Grace and me being in the first grade ... and so did the first graders. We were picked on by both grades. My old brain in my young body objected to being pushed around ... but I put up with it.

I can't help crying when I'm hurt ... I'm just a little kid ... but I didn't even think about it when a third grader tried to take my little sisters underwear off. My old, combat trained brain made my tiny body do things to the big kid ... things that weren't common knowledge in 1947. I murdered the kid. Not killed ... but I made him remember that Grace Adele Austin wasn't a play-toy ... and that was the first time daddy got called to school.

Perverts were a thing of the future so the older kid wasn't accused of that ... but I was accused of injuring him 'most injuriously'. You bet! I was trying. Grace is my twin and I love her.

It could have been much worse, but I didn't hold on to his arm or leg in the throws ... I let go so he didn't die. I knew I could kill him ... didn't I? Hmm?

That visit to the office was the first in a long series of 'incidents' involving my rescues of Grace. And it became more and more necessary ... because Grace was growing up beautiful. I was just ugly me.

At least once a school year ... some yahoo noticed Grace and, as God's anointed gift to females, he just HAD to try something. And every year, that same yahoo ended up in the hospital and I went to the office. Every year ... sometimes two or three or six visits. I believe I mentioned Grace is beautiful.

My hometown is north of Lansing ... east of Grand Rapids ... west of Flint and south of Mount Pleasant. One could call it 'The Hub of Michigan" ... but it's not. And it's really changed.

Michigan 21 is a main east - west TWO lane Road ... with Port Huron on the east end and Grand Rapids on the west.

US-27 used to be a TWO lane all the way to the Straits. To get to the Straits go straight north out of Lansing, turn left at M-21, turn right at the Court House, turn left and then right again and you had a straight shot to the car ferries heading to the UP.

That's the Upper Peninsula to you folks who think Montana is part of Canada.

This route made the intersection of M-21 and US-27 one of the busiest and most dangerous intersections in the state ... and my house was half a block away. During the winter ... it's not too bad. During the summer it was pure hell.

People on the road from the working part of the state heading north to the vacation part of the state absolutely hated the 21/ 27 intersection. The city fathers ... in their infinite wisdom installed two things at that intersection ... a traffic light ... and a cop.

Summer traffic could back up for miles. And it's STOP ... not Right Turn on RED after Stop, STOP. The first eight parking spots on N. Clinton Ave (North Clinton was the name of US 27 in my home town ... after the right turn at the light.) were reserved for tickets being issued to 'light jumpers'.

It was a lucrative proposition for the town. Over the years odds are that over half of the drivers headed north got at least one ticket at that damn light.

But wait ... there's more.

The National Guard has a big camp at Grayling ... most of the Guard units in the mid states ... Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Kentucky, Wisconsin, Michigan ... had Guard training at Grayling. Every summer units from the participating states convoyed north up US-27 to practice soldiering. The convoys consisted of HUNDREDS of trucks, Jeeps, lowboys with tanks, fuel tankers and what ever else they used to transport men and material to the camp.

Chapter 2 »