Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
David C. McLavic - 17. Chapter 17
Arriving home, I took my suitcase and Beth Ann’s heading for my room. Dad took Mom’s suitcase and headed for their room—mom headed to the infirmary, now the University Hospital.
Opening my door, my room was filled with crates and boxes. At first, I was confused and then I remembered that Uncle Frank had boxed up Dad’s room. These were the boxes, I was anxious to start unpacking.
For the next 4 hours, I unpacked. Shelves that held Dad’s artifacts, books, and papers, I lined up to provide a space for Beth Ann. The cot that was in Dad’s room was already set up under the window. It appeared that someone slept in it. When I asked Dad who slept on the cot, he said he did. Uncle Joe tried it also but he said the ground was better.
I continued unpacking the crates, taking the wood to the garage. I finished unpacking and setting up the room at 7. Dad and Uncle Joe went to get our dinner, which turned out to be hotdogs with potato salad. Traveling and setting up my room, I was ready for bed. I was waken by Uncle Joe, he said too much sleep wasn’t good. Makes you lazy all day. He wanted us to check out the rocks in the desert. Dressed, we headed for the rocks. When we arrived I was not prepared for what I saw. Most of the desert was fenced off with signs saying this was government property, stay away. I noticed several towers with something like a hut at the top. Soldiers were standing in these huts.
I looked at Uncle Joe, “The government came and said this was their land. No walking on their land.”
We began picking up coal from the rocks while keeping an eye on the activity within the fenced-off area. There was a large tank in the middle of the fenced-off land. I watched trucks come and whatever these trucks contained, was pumped into this large tank. It seemed to be a continuous operation. An empty truck pulled away and a full truck took its place. We watched for several hours counting the number of trucks.
Later that evening I asked Dad about what was happening in the desert. He said the military had taken over the land and were establishing a base there. When I asked about the large tank, he said that was for water. “They could have dug up the underground river for water instead of trucking in water,”
That evening I wrote a letter to Carl. Told him about the changes at the desert and the army moving in. Per Dad’s suggestion, I included a self-addressed envelope and stamps.
In the morning, I gave the letter to Dad who would mail it at the University post office. We hadn’t seen Mom. When I asked Dad he said he thought she was staying at the hospital. I should have kept my mouth shut, That evening at dinner Mom showed up. Dad had brought food from the University’s cafeteria. Mom had dinner with us. Then she and Dad went for a walk Dad came back alone. The next day, Mom came and took all her clothes, essentially moving out. Dad said she was moving to Mrs, Grady’s. Mrs. Grady ran a boarding house where Mom and Dad stayed when they first came to the University. That was the last time I saw Mom. I think Dad saw her more often. I was never close to Mom so in all truth I never missed her.
School started and this would be my 8th year. I would be heading to high school upon completion of this year. School wasn’t a problem for me. I had Dad’s papers and Dad being an archeologist, I had a lot of subjects for my English class writing assignments.
I received a letter from Carl. He had the men, particularly Jim, write a few comments. Carl was clever, Jim would write something and then Carl would tell me what was behind the comments. Sometimes I think Marie wrote what Jim wanted to say. So now, not only did I write to Carl but I began to write to Jim also.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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