Chapter 13: Be It Ever So Humble

Three hours after leaving the college campus, I arrived in Barstow, in the heart of the Mojave Desert. At 9 PM, temperatures were still in the 90s. I was grateful that my truck had a powerful air conditioner. Without it, the desert temperatures would have been
unbearable. While relaxing in the truck cab, I looked at a map, attempting to choose where I wanted to go next. I wondered where I would least want to spend the winter. It didn’t take me long to figure out the answer to that query. North Dakota! Wintering there would require being either insane or being an Eskimo. I decided that was going to be my destination.

I didn’t want to push it, so five days later I was driving into Minot, North Dakota. It was not the cultural epicenter of the universe. However, there were lots of cowboys and US Air Force soldiers present. Minot has a military facility close to town. I imagined one of the local defense firms could want a number cruncher. There was also a university there. I would love to be able to find employment in both places. After deciding to stay at a local motel for a few nights, I asked the front desk for a good restaurant recommendation. The desk clerk recommended a chain eatery down the street. I could have walked; it was close enough, but I decided to drive because I was unfamiliar with the area crime situation. I wanted to keep a careful check on my belongings in the back of the truck. Supper turned out to be satisfying and affordable. It was typical chain restaurant stuff.

The next morning, I went to the local library, looked up the phone numbers I needed, and returned to my hotel room. I decided to call the local college and the defense contractors’ headquarters. I wanted to know if there was any interest in my skills. By lunchtime, I had scheduled six interviews for the next two days. If I had not received an offer by then, I would have moved on.

By the end of the second day, I had received four employment offers. The local college, two defense firms, and the Air Force all displayed interest. For three of them, I would need to obtain a security clearance. I knew this meant they’d call my parents and some of my university acquaintances. I couldn’t risk losing that link, so I turned down down the air force-related jobs and decided to work at university. With my savings and university pay, I could live well here on a low-key basis.

After accepting the college post, I needed to locate someplace where I could live. The college did not provide faculty housing, so that was out. I started asking the administrative personnel if they knew of anything I could rent. It wasn’t long before I hit gold. A recently widowed retired staff member would like to rent out an apartment over her garage. I thought it sounded outstanding. Even if it was a dump, I could rent it until a better option came along. Beggars cannot be choosers, I reasoned. I knew I’d arrived at the correct address as I pulled in. My first impression did not disappoint me. The home and garage were both made of brick. The home, built in the 1920s, had hot water heat. That was excellent since it guaranteed no cold zones. Steam or hot water would radiate heat, resulting in a consistent temperature. They even heated the garage during the winter. It was North Dakota, by the way.

Mrs. Irene Jorgenson, a widow in her
early 70s, needed the rent to supplement her pension. That’s why she was eager to rent out the apartment, as was I. It resolved both of our problems. The apartment had a living area, a bedroom, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom. It had over 600 square feet, which was plenty for my purposes. The nicest aspect was that it came fully equipped. I was allowed to move in immediately once I counted out the money for the first month’s rent. You would have thought I cured cancer based on how she responded to the money I offered her.

I considered going out and locating a burger establishment to have a fast burger after bringing my belongings up the stairs. I’d come back home to unpack and sleep for the night. No dice; as Mrs. Jorgenson saw me walk down the steps to the truck, she hurried out the door. She informed me I wasn’t going anywhere since I could have a wonderful meal in her kitchen. She was quite insistent. I’m happy I listened to “Grandma,” since I ended up calling her that to stay on her good side. I hadn’t eaten a supper like this in years. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and garden-fresh green beans.

Living in the apartment was never dull or lonely. Mrs. Jorgenson declared Sunday was her day. She demanded that I join her at the First Lutheran Church. She then attempted to load me up with her Sunday noon lunches. I had to run to keep the calories under control.

It was hilarious the first time she saw me coming in from a run. I had removed my sweaty shirt before going upstairs to take a shower. I hadn’t taken the first step up the stairs when I heard an exclamation of “Oh my!” coming from her front porch. She had been sitting outside, waiting for my return. I suppose my six-pack abs on display embarrassed her.

Classes proceeded in the same manner as they did at my former workplace. Here, the students were more focused on their schoolwork. There are no distractions, such as beaches or surfers. The only downside I could think of was the monthly alert exercises when the entire wing of B52s took off. For the next 30 minutes, lecturing was pointless. The thunder in the skies as the jets took off shook the structure and rattled the windows. It was difficult to lecture over the B-52s.

Because of its proximity to a military post, the town featured some seedier areas that catered to the desires of the USAF. There were taverns, strip clubs, and brothels. Nobody troubled the troops on a Saturday night in town as long as they kept it quiet. It didn’t take long to figure out which areas of town to avoid on a Saturday night. The law enforcement personnel and military police did a good job keeping the military under control. Of course, events occurred from time to time, but they were few. When the fly-boys and the college crowd got together, there was certain to be trouble. The servicemen was often lonely and desired female companionship. The student body was over 50 percent female. The male students were reluctant to share, which sometimes lead to occasional conflicts. More than once, kids in my class showed up with black eyes or bandages. They earned these from disagreements about sharing with the Air Force. On Saturdays after 6 PM, I made sure I was home and locked in until Sunday morning. Then I attended church with Mrs. Jorgenson. There was no need to get myself in trouble and have an inquiry made about me back in my hometown. I definitely did not need that.

In late September, I became bored and wanted to spend time doing something new. So I went for a walk around my new neighborhood. I had completed three blocks when I noticed an older Triumph motorbike for sale. It wasn’t a large road bike, but it was big enough to get me from point A to point B without causing traffic problems. It was an old Triumph 500 road bike. A decent, robust bike for getting about town and visiting the neighboring country routes. The person selling it asked $600 for it, and I didn’t see any problems with its appearance. It appeared to be well-maintained and immaculate. The mileage was low for the year, so I’m sure it wasn’t ridden too much. I informed the seller that if he took the time to teach me how to ride, I was going to write him a check for the whole price straight away. I’d never rode before, but I decided I wanted to learn. Furthermore, commuting by bike would be far less expensive than driving a truck. He agreed, so I wrote a check to him. We walked the bike four blocks to the high school parking lot. I spent the next two hours learning the fundamentals of motorbike riding. I found that I like riding the bike.

For the next two weeks, all my spare time went into reading up on motorcycle traffic laws. I wanted to get the state motorcycle endorsement on my license. Two weeks later, I took the written and riding portions of the test. I passed them and had the endorsement on my state driver’s license a few weeks later.

I bought two new helmets for the bike, and the first person who had a ride on the bike with me was Mrs. Jorgenson. At first, she was apprehensive, but after a few miles, she was getting into it. It would be incorrect to say she did not care for riding. She was always asking, “Are we going riding this afternoon?” It was humorous; she created quite the scene when we rode up to church and both got off the motorcycle. She started tongues wagging when she wore pants to church and had come there on a motorcycle. It was scandalous, I tell you.

Mrs. Jorgenson wanted to match me up with her granddaughter, who lived in Oregon. She said we would be perfect for each other. One day I rode home from a day of teaching at the university when there was a strange car in the drive with Oregon tags. The mysterious grandchild had arrived. I had taken off my helmet when Mrs. Jorgenson and her granddaughter came out of the house. They came over, and I almost gagged when she came near. The granddaughter was in dire need of a bath. She was wearing cut-off bib overalls as shorts. Her legs were in need of a razor. She raised her arm so she could brush her unkempt mop of hair off her face. Her armpits were a thicket that could have hidden all sorts of critters. Immediately, I decided I wanted no part of her. I said hello and asked if they would excuse me, but I was going to head on up and get a shower. I felt nasty after riding home from work and from being near the granddaughter.

The granddaughter spent two days with her grandmother before she headed home. I knew I would have hell to pay for avoiding the granddaughter. I was willing to pay it. On Sunday, it rained, so I drove us to church in the truck.

After church, Mrs. Jorgenson looked over at me while we were driving home and said, “I am sorry. I tried to fix you up with her. She has changed since she moved to Oregon; if she were not my own family, I would have asked her to leave as soon as she got here. Now I have to air out the house to get rid of the BO smell.”