They were the eyes of a natural born killer. In a few short months he had honed his craft to a razor's fine edge and five men were now dead, a testament to his skill. How many more would fall? The steed, itself, flanks streaked with its own black, life's blood, had been pushed to the very limit of its endurance, the absolute breaking point of its existence ...yet both had returned once more. As with the medieval knights, the instrument of death and its master were now safely in the hands of the good earth once more. In times such as these, many would duel in the skies and many would die. It was a game.
There he is I thought, the old man himself. Five confirmed aerial victories and the coveted title of "Ace", bragging rights for life. The photograph had been taken only minutes upon his return that day, strong drink and good cheer had soon followed among gladiators. The Mustang, itself, would see an engine replacement before dawn struck again. The huge Merlin Rolls-Royce had carried him to victory that day but in so doing, had given up the last of its gallant strength. The bombers were safely home and one more Luftwaffe pilot now lay dead - A toast to our departed and to the Fatherland, be not of sad heart, good friends, for tomorrow is another day!
How, I had so admired him, worshiped him as a knight of the air, a warrior! As I child I had cherished the photograph and felt pride in his accomplishments and the fact that he was my father. Then sorrow, at his contempt and rejection of us and his blatant disdain toward my mother. I had later experienced fear and then anger toward him and finally hate. Now I felt nothing...
He had moved his beautiful young bride into the new house six months after her twentieth birthday in the year nineteen forty seven and she had lived there for the next seventy years. "Stony Brook" had been developed as a postwar subdivision, created ideally for the lucrative market of returning Servicemen and their families or soon-to-be families. The subdivision had, at the time, lain on the outskirts of Seattle and been a predominately blue collar neighborhood. The unpretentious two story tract houses were all identical and each located on a quarter acre parcel of land. New homes could be purchased with aid from the G.I. bill and the postwar economy offered many good paying jobs to Veterans.
Over the many years that followed the subdivision slowly began to evolve from an enclave of countless postwar prosaic dwellings into that of a more sophisticated neighborhood, now within a metro area. As additions and improvements were slowly added to each home the houses began to become more distinctive and personalized in their appearance. Stony Brook began to feel like home and it had proven to be a good place for a kid to grow up. Ricky and I had made a lot friend in school as well as the neighborhood itself. Our family had its share of problems, the same as anyone else's but Ricky's and my experiences were mostly happy. "Stony Brook, a neighborhood with the family in mind." At least it was according to the nineteen fifties brochure which was still someplace in Mom's possessions.
Apparently it had become blatantly obvious to many in the neighborhood, as early as the late nineteen fifties, that the old man no longer had any interest in Mom. He had reportedly been, seen by many, in the seedier downtown areas of Seattle in the company of several different women and his drinking was becoming an issue with employers and friends alike. The old man hadn't tried to hide the fact that there were other women; if anything he flaunted the fact as if it were a badge of honor somehow. Many of his friends who were also combat Veterans began to distance themselves from him then and there began to be long absences of him from home, it was said.
I speculate that the marriage stayed together because of the arrival of Ricky and I in the nineteen sixties and perhaps the couple decided to begin love anew and start over then. I don't think the old man's philandering stopped but there were obligations for him now and for several years he apparently made some sort of effort to be present and accountable at least in regard to being a provider. Knowing the character of Mom and her strong sense of family values, the knowledge of his escapades must have hurt her deeply, at least initially. Yet Mom was as resilient as she was beautiful; I had always had great admiration of her courage and perseverance and had leaned on her strength many times, growing up.
Eventually Ricky and I grew up and started our own lives and careers and moved away. Mom stayed in Stony Brook even though it was well below her financial means by then. She loved the neighborhood and its people. "Why would I need a larger house? This one's just fine and my friends are here." She had always insisted, and so it was. Somehow it was always a bit charming to hear Mom's friends say "Lovey lives in Stony Brook." By then Mom was long divorced which Ricky and I were thankful for. I believe that there were a few gentlemen in the neighborhood which Mom had shown some interest in, not serious relationships - Mom was done with those, but "Gentlemen friends" that she enjoyed socializing and outdoor activities with. There was never a shortage of gentlemen callers but Mom was very selective in who she would allow into her life. The ones that she did "date" were gentlemen of the first order. Mom was human and as Ricky would say to me periodically "Mom needs to get laid sometimes, too, Tim." Ricky and I did befriend a few of Mom's male friends but realistically, none were ever really more than platonic friends or rainy day lovers, I don't believe. Mom could play her cards very close to the vest at times and this was one such part of her life that she was intentionally vague about and really it was no one else's business, including Ricky and I. As long as Mom was happy, then Ricky and I were also.
During the mid-two thousands the census bureau declared that Mom had lived in the neighborhood longer than any other resident and that hers was one of only a handful of houses left in Stony Brook that was still inhabited by its original purchaser. Even though she was, by now, retired she was still very active within the community by engaging in volunteer work and a full schedule of social events within her circle of friends, Mom was going someplace all the time it seemed like and one year she even went on a Caribbean cruise with three other ladies. By the time Mom turned eighty six she had slowed down considerably and although active in her garden, preferred to entertain guests within her home as opposed to travelling abroad or being about town. "I'm starting to grow-up a little bit, I think" she would say to friends. Mom read a lot and slept more but was healthy and happy so Ricky and I were happy as well. She had a dog now and spent time on the internet posting on teachers blogs and developed a following there, eventually meeting some of the other teachers that also posted.
In two thousand and thirteen we had been notified by Seattle city officials that the neighborhood, an eight block area, was destined to become the site for one of Seattle's new waste water management plants and that everyone would have to relocate no later than the year two thousand and eighteen. Each home owner would be paid slightly above fair market value for their homes and properties and also given moving expenses comparable within the State of Washington. The neighborhood then slowly began to reinvent itself and evolve once more - into decline. Since many of the residents living in Stony Brook were either retired or close to that of retirement age, the city's land reclamation actually provided a natural springboard for many of them to purchase their long sought after dream homes in sunnier climates with slightly more equity than they would have had otherwise. Moving vans began to gradually appear in the neighborhood streets, sporadically at first, and then more and more frequently as the years began to drift slowly by and the City's clock continued ticking onward. Possessions were loaded into trucks, windows were covered with plywood and good-byes were said to life-long friends ...people moved on.
The lush outlying wooded areas which had surrounded Stony Brook during the nineteen forties, fifties, and sixties, that Ricky and I and our friends once played in, had also experienced a slow metamorphosis over the decades. The wooded areas were transformed into large warehouse and shipping container yards throughout the years as a result of Seattle's change in zoning laws and increased number of large wholesale outlets within the Seattle area. Later, tough economic times along with the introduction of certain street level drugs caused property value to suffer within the vicinity and many of Stony Brook's inhabitants had sadly conceded that the neighborhood had lost much of its charm. Many felt that the City's reclamation would, in the long run, prove to be a Blessing in disguise for many of the Stony Brook residents.
The neighborhood, which was one of Seattle's oldest and once located on the outskirts of Seattle, now found itself perched on prime industrial real-estate within Seattle itself. In essence, the land assessment associated with Stony Brook deemed the property more valuable, for the overall good of Seattle, as an industrial center than the antiquated neighborhood that it now was. Stony Brook was also plagued with slightly questionable water quality and a few other minor environmental issues which, it was said, caused concern among some. Stony Brook, it was declared by the city council, had to go.
"...Oh, and there was the time they got caught siphoning gas out of the police commissioners car in Phoenix, ...I think Lovey told me that she was sixteen at the time and neither of them could afford any gas to get home because they'd spent all of their money buying clothes and silk lingerie at Garlands's. Your mom and Aunt Elsie were always in cahoots together on something!" Mrs. Parker had said laughing.
