Phil Vinson ¥ Author/Photographer
Excerpts from It
Takes a Worried Man
Greg held Suzy snugly against him as they
danced, closer than they’d ever been before. She put her
hand behind his head and pulled his face even tighter against
hers. The Platters’ classic, “Only You,”
drifted across the ballroom as they pressed their cheeks
together. Greg breathed in the clean scent of Suzy’s skin
and the subtle aroma of L’Aimant. Loose strands from
Suzy’s sun-streaked dark-blonde hair, swept up in a
French twist, brushed against Greg’s face. He was in
heaven.
The Fort Worth Elk’s Club provided
an old-fashioned elegance for the occasion. Suzy had invited
Greg, a freshman at Trinity Valley State College, to the
Eastside High Christmas dance. Suzy, two years younger than
Greg and a junior at Eastside, was Greg’s first real
girlfriend.
Greg remained in a daze after the tune
ended, but he finally reclaimed his senses and escorted Suzy
off the dance floor.
He glanced toward a corner of the room,
where Suzy’s older sister Beverly sat slumped at a table
with arms crossed in a sulky pout. Greg’s best friend
Eddie King sat across from Beverly, waving his arms and
gesturing as if pleading a losing cause.
“What the heck’s going on with
Eddie and Beverly?” Greg asked Suzy. The four had come to
the dance on a double date, but Eddie and Beverly had spent the
evening sniping at each other.
“Beverly thought they were going
steady,” Suzy said. “But she thinks Eddie’s
cheating on her.”
“If he is, he hasn’t told
me.” Greg adjusted his necktie.
Someone announced that the next tune would
be the last dance. Greg and Suzy moved back to the dance floor
and again snuggled close as the phonograph played the
Spaniels’ popular parting ditty:
Dat-dada-da-da—
Good night, sweetheart, well it’s
time to go,
I hate to leave you but I really must say,
Good night, sweetheart, goodnight.
The four of them walked outside into the
cold, breezy December air and got into Eddie’s ’55
Chevy Bel Air. Beverly scooted as far away from Eddie as she
could and scrunched herself up against the passenger-side door.
She stared out the window as Eddie started the car. Scowling,
he popped the clutch and burned rubber as he roared out of the
parking lot.
* * *
They got out and walked along the deserted
beach. The air had the faint, fishy-salty smell of the sea. The
sun was setting over the Gulf in the southwest. High, wispy
clouds turned a flaming orange.
“Oh, how pretty,” Suzy said,
looking at the horizon. “Let’s take off our shoes
and wade in the surf.”
“I’ll bet the water’s
cold this time of year, but I’m game if you are.”
Greg removed his loafers and socks.
They held hands and splashed along the
shore, the spent waves lapping at their ankles.
“Greg,” Suzy said after a few
moments’ silence.
“Yeah?”
“I thought I’d never see you
again,” she said with a tinge of sadness.
“I’m sorry I stopped
writing,” Greg said. “I feel like I did that time
in college when I stopped calling you.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I
stopped writing, too. I can’t remember who stopped
first.”
“I missed you. I was
stupid.”
“Oh, I missed you, too. And for such
a long time.” Suzy stepped in front of Greg and turned,
facing him. She placed her hands on his shoulders.
“I have to tell you
something,” she said.
* * *
Greg drove with a fury. The hard, glaring
light made him squint as the sun climbed higher. But he sped
onward with a single-minded obsession.
In some part of his mind, he knew
he’d probably never work for the Galveston Star again. He
also knew he was putting his upcoming wedding in jeopardy. But
those thoughts lay far back in his consciousness. The only
thing that mattered was getting to a zone of safety: He had to
get home. That impulse drove him forward. His panic had
transmuted into a searing compulsion to keep going, to get as
far from Galveston as he could.
He passed through Houston during the
morning rush. He impatiently crept northward on the Gulf
Freeway, cursing the slowdowns. Once he passed downtown, the
traffic moved again. Greg stomped the accelerator and sped
ahead.
The adrenaline gushed, and Greg’s
heart thumped at a furious pace as he passed through first one
town, then another: Conroe, Huntsville, Madisonville,
Corsicana. Sweat streamed down his face and soaked through his
shirt.
At Ennis, he turned westward on Highway
287. He’d reached the home stretch. He passed through
Waxahachie and Midlothian and finally entered Tarrant County.
He was almost there.
* * *
He was finished with Dr. Cochran’s
group therapy. But where did this leave him? Ben Nelson had
virtually ordered him to assume the slotman’s job at
work. He and Suzy had postponed their wedding. And he was now
half-convinced Suzy was screwing around with someone else in
Galveston.
These thoughts descended on Greg, one by
one, as he made his way back to Fort Worth. Where was a way
out? Was there anywhere left that he could turn?
On the edge of Fort Worth, he stopped at a
package store and bought a fifth of whiskey. He shook as he
paid the clerk.
“Anything wrong, pal?” the
clerk asked.
“No, I just need a drink,”
Greg said.
“Yeah, you’ve got a pretty bad
case of the shakes.”
Back in his Volkswagen, Greg opened the
bottle and took a long drink. Even now, taking heavy doses of
Valium and Imipramine, Greg felt no blunting of his pain.
He’d have to resort to his own brand of medicine.
* * *
Greg relaxed a little.
“There’s something else.”
“Okay, let’s hear it.”
[Dr.] Marilyn [Reed] raised her chin and gave him a knowing
look.
“I’ve met someone that’s
got me a little off-balance.”
“You mean a girl?”
“Yeah. She’s a journalism
student at WT.”
“And you’ve gone out with
her?”
“Well, not yet. But I think
there’s something going on there.”
“Are you going to ask her
out?”
“We’re both going to a
party,” Greg said. “I’ll probably spend some
time with her and ask her out.”
“So, what’s the
problem?”
“I still don’t have Suzy out
of my system.” The old wound arose in his gut.
“And you feel guilty about being
attracted to this other girl?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t feel right.
Suzy’s the only girl I ever really cared about or spent
much time with. I’m not sure I know how to act around
someone else.”
“How is this girl different from
Suzy?”
“She’s a few years younger;
part of the anti-war, counter-culture crowd. Makes me feel like
an old man. I’m not part of that scene. I’ve never
used illegal drugs, I don’t have long hair, and I
don’t even listen to rock and roll anymore.”
Marilyn laughed. “An old man at
twenty-five. I really feel sorry for you. Seriously,
aren’t you playing ‘what if’
again?”
“I guess so. It’s just so
unusual to have these kinds of feelings about another girl
besides Suzy.”
“Not all bad feelings, I take
it.”
“No, just strange.”
“Greg, you’re a healthy young
man again. Can you accept that?”
* * *
The funnel moved northeast. Greg realized
he was on a collision course with the twister. It was headed
directly toward U.S. 60, the highway to Amarillo.
The storm grew more intense. Hailstones
grew larger and covered the highway. Greg could barely see the
pavement in front of him. Finally, he saw the faint outline of
the white grain elevator in Umbarger just ahead.
He pulled into a service station in
Umbarger, joining some other motorists who had sought shelter
under the station’s awning. His heart pounded, but he
remembered to let it hammer, without fueling his body with more
fear.
“Did you see that twister?”
Greg shouted to a man standing outside his car and looking up
the highway to the northeast.
“Damn right I did.” The man
wore a tan western hat and a shirtwith pearl buttons.
“That son of a bitch is on the ground.”
Excerpts from Ink
in the Blood
I walked along
a fence that ran along the edge of the
cemetery and [interviewed] some of the
neighbors who had
watched [Oswald’s funeral] service
from their front yards.
A couple of them grumbled
about having a “commie”
buried nearby, but most were indifferent
or had no
problem with it.
“He’s dead and
won’t hurt nobody now,” one of them
said.
***
By 1970 it was a different
world. I don’t know how
much John F. Kennedy’s assassination
had to do with this
great shift in American culture. But
there’s no denying
that before November 22, 1963, the country
in most ways
still dwelt in the fifties. Then, slowly,
many of the forces
that shaped my generation disappeared.
Adjusting to the
new age was sometimes painful. The easy
years of the
fifties faded.
***
Anna Lou was the homecoming
queen, and she
regularly dated a football player. She sat
near me in Miss
Golladay’s English class and also
worked on The Parakeet.
I saw her practically every day, and we
became friendly.
It’s no exaggeration to say I had
never had this close a
friendship with a girl before.
***
Just then Nancy appeared
from behind one of the
trellises. Standing there with her was
Carey Parker, an
Elvis look-alike for whom Nancy had
expressed an
attraction. It all became clear.
***
Cuddles grabbed me and
practically swallowed me.
Her tongue went all the way to my tonsils.
We came up for
breath and started all over again.
I thought: What hath God
wrought?
***
My feelings about Cathy
approached worship. I
had never dated a girl with such a blend
of good looks,
intelligence, and class. I’d had
crushes and infatuations
before, but I knew Cathy was the real
deal, the first girl I
felt this deeply about. Cathy soon stood
at the center of
my universe.