Things were extremely financially tight for that first year. I had months that I could either pay our bills or we could eat. I think we once had just soup for dinner for nearly two months straight, and even today the sight of Ramen noodles disgusts me. I had a few steady clients, but there just wasn't that much need for a full-time bookkeeper, except at tax time, and I learned to budget our feast months' income so that there would be some money left over saved for the lean ones. There were too many nights when I just didn't eat at all so Olivia could be assured of having something for her next day's breakfast and lunch when not in school.
The only thing that saved my dear daughter from a childhood of near malnutrition was that The Church sponsored the local school lunch program.
Our irregular eating habits came to a final end our second Thanksgiving Eve in Lovett. We were in the small town supermarket and I was counting my pennies to be exactly sure I had just enough money to pay for the small scrawny chicken, a few wilted vegetables from the bargain bin, and a loaf of "reduced for quick sale" hard as rock bread from which I thought I could make a little stuffing. This was to be our Thanksgiving feast the next day. I was holding little Olivia in my arms and she kept looking at the "big chickens" (turkeys) the other shoppers in front and in back of us in line had in their carts. She kept asking if we could have one of the big chickens instead. Finally I said gently, but just a shade too loudly that, "Daddy can't buy one of those big turkey right now sweetheart, this tiny little one is all we can afford to buy."
You could have heard a pin drop in the store, and every eye seemed to be fixed upon me. I immediately wanted to just crawl into a corner and die of shame.
I couldn't pay for our few purchases fast enough and we just about ran from the store all the way home. I cried for hours. My life was a failure, and my wife had been right to want to leave me all along. My 'feast' for the only person in the world that I cared about, and who cared about me was to be a few tired scraps of produce, a stale hunk of bread and a tiny bird that was probably 90% bone by weight, and I was already plotting how to boil the scrawny carcass to become stock for our soup meal for the next week.
A few hours later, I happened to look out on my front porch and found a box with a note on it. Inside were a number of boxes and canned food items. The note just said that these items were for my daughter and me and that no repayment was necessary. I was signed by Ralph, the owner of the town market.
I rushed right back to the store and found Ralph in his office, and told him that I had no way of repaying him, at least anytime remotely soon. He cared nothing about that, and asked me if there was any milk for Olivia in the house. I admitted there wasn't any, and almost immediately he handed me a gallon and told me to take it home. I could "pay him later" when I could. My eyes were again filled with tears as I thanked him and left.
The next morning, I was sorting out the boxes and cans to plan a slightly better holiday dinner for my daughter and get a rough outline of what the week's menus was likely to be, when there was a knock at the door (my doorbell, like almost everything in the house, never worked). Outside were a couple of ladies from "The Church" (thankfully dressed, but my little house I was on the 'clothed side' of town anyway).
They were bearing a large cardboard box with a towel under it. It was an "extra turkey that was left over" they earnestly said, and marching right in they planted it upon my dining room table and started to investigate my kitchen to see if I had any worthy plates or platters fit for public service. They checked my cabinets and refrigerator and 'tut-tutted' quite a lot in disapproval, and I think only the fact that I now did have some milk in the refridgerator for Olivia saved my hide from a legendary tongue flaying.
At length, after making sure that Olivia was clean and obviously loved and well cared for, to the best of my ability, the church ladies left us in piece, but it wasn't long before I saw yet
another
pair of them coming up the walk. This continued all morning and into the early afternoon, and before I realized it there were at least two dozen people in my house talking with me and sharing their 'extra' food they'd brought.
There were cakes, pies, and desserts that to this day I don't know the names of, and every other sort of main and side dish. I didn't have many places for folks to sit, and my very ratty sofa received a number of dubious looks, but somehow folks made themselves comfortable wherever they could and little Olivia made a lot of new admirers. She always was a delightful and well-behaved child.
By the time I cleared out the last of my unexpected guests at 5 p.m., I was still left with a mound of leftover food that would only just barely fit into the refrigerator. We ate leftovers and enjoyed them greatly over the next week. I had also made five new 'business arrangements', none of them were large accounts, but this gave us just enough regular income coming in now to settle our irregular eating habits. I was actually even able to start saving a very little bit of money.
For all of that winter, I think quite a number of folks were 'keeping an eye' on us, and we received several more canned and boxed food donations that while not being of critical necessity for us, allowed me to spend some small amounts of money elsewhere. Olivia had desperately need new clothes for awhile and there was enough left over to buy a few cheap pieces of well-used but sound furniture. Olivia was also now in a pre-kindergarten 'play' program sponsored by The Church three days a week and this let me take on a few more part time jobs.
I was not a member of the Church, and really had no strong religious feelings one way or the other, but they were willing to spend their time and effort to help Olivia and myself without asking for anything from me in return. I still didn't attend their Church much afterwards, but I let it be clearly known to them that I owed them a considerable debt of gratitude and I would always help them in return any way I could when I was able to do so in the future.
******
Our next year was a bit better still. I had the offer now of a full time bookkeeping position with the small County Tax Office that paid me a livable wage, that along with my part-time jobs, finally gave us a comfortable and secure income. I made some loud noises about 'paying off a few of my debts' but no one would accept a dime of repayment from me.
"Return the favor to others in need," was the usual answer I got, and I was more than happy to do so. I'd ask Father Al, or one of the horde of church ladies about whom they knew of in town that needed assistance that week and once told, I'd attend to it. That's pretty simply how things worked in Lovett; nearly everyone was poor and if someone had anything extra to share they did, without thought of payback or making a big scene or production out of their charity or generosity.
Christmas 1984 was fairly memorable for us. As I still did not own a car, my parents drove down to spend the Holiday with us, and they bore a couple of interesting gifts for us. I rarely got to see them, but did try and keep in touch over the phone (I could afford one now). Becky was back in town, they said. She was separated from Tony and they hadn't gotten many details from her, but they got the impression some abuse was involved. Tony apparently drank and partied very heavily still, and it was affecting his Pro career. Far from being the expected Superstar, Tony was barely holding on to his roster spot and his team's coaches and fellow players were all pretty much fed up with his act. She was preparing for divorce and seemed eager to hear the latest news of Olivia and myself and what we had been up to.
"She's made a number of bad mistakes," Mom said, "but she seems to want to try and put things right. She still believes that the two of you have a chance. Was I "willing to come up and see her again in a few weeks?"
I really wasn't sure, but I put the question to Olivia: did she want to see her Mommy? Of course she did. I agreed that I would try to come up and visit her in mid-January; I had some important reports that would be due by the end of that month and I would be unable to take a few 'days vacation until those were done.
Olivia made out like a bandit and received a full sack of toys and lovely dresses from 'Santa' and her doting grandparents. Dad had one final gift for me. He had received a large unexpected holiday bonus check from his work, and had used a great deal of it in buying me a new computer, an Apple IIe with a floppy disk drive. I was in heaven.
The year end property tax report took me longer to do than I had hoped, and it was almost the end of January before I could take a week off, borrow a car, and drive back up to Brownwood. A nagging little voice had been bothering me about delaying so long to visit Becky, but I was still very angry with her for the way I had been cuckolded and abandoned, and I thought the extra wait would do her good.
Instead I arrived to find that I was just two days too late. Tony had driven down to effect a reconciliation of his own, and in the end (and with some private misgivings expressed to my parents) she had returned to him.
For some reason this new loss seemed to uncover all of the old hurt and anger that I had mostly rid myself of and had largely successfully buried. I let Olivia have a delightful evening with her grandparents and we returned to Lovett first thing the next morning.
*******
