Locomotive to the Past by George Schultz (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

“With what things, Mister Garback? What stuff?”

“You know what I mean! Exactly what I mean! A whole lot of things! A whole bunch of things! I was really sort of ignoring them, y’know. Letting them all go! Until this evening! When you got… got so deeply… into the Frank Sinatra thing! That really began to worry me! The thing… about that recording session. That deal… with that, what’s-his-name, arranger. How did you know that? How could you know about that?”

The employee would have to think fast!

“Well, I’ve got a friend… from my time, down in Tennessee. He’s… uh… a nephew! A nephew… of Mister Stordahl! When the session took place… almost a year ago… he wrote me, about it. Told me all about it. Then… when I came to work here… I got to where I could hardly wait to use it! Use it… on the air! When the first record… first one, from the session… when it got here today, I kicked it around. Should I use it… or not? Might be just a tad too soon, y’know.”

“A tad too soon? A tad?”

“They… ah… talk funny, sometimes. Down there… in Tennessee.”

“Apparently. There’ve been more than a few times… when you’ve used words that just seemed to come out of nowhere. Really out of nowhere!”

“Anyway,” responded Jason—ignoring his superior’s thrust. “I finally decided, that I’d use the bit. Probably should’ve run it by you first, but…”

“Bit? Run it by me? What kind of talk… is that? Run it by me? Bit?”

“Yes, Sir. When it all ended up, I decided to use it.” He was still not responding, to the president’s preoccupation—over words!

“To… to use it,” groused Mr. Garback—his tone barely audible. “The bit, you mean?”

“Yes, Sir. I was… you see… afraid of being scooped! Scooped… by some other disc jockey. On another station.”

“Some other… some other… some other disc jockey? Now, where the hell… did you get that term?” The president’s resolve—regarding vulgar language—seemed to be unraveling, at least slightly!

“Like I said, they speak kind of another… a whole different kind of… of language, where I come from.”

“Yeah, apparently,” replied his boss—half-mumbling. “I suppose the same would hold… for such a word, as gig! Gig? Gig . . . for heaven sakes?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. I’m sorry! I just got a little excited… when that record showed up. I’ll try… I’ll do my best, you know… to try and stick, a little more better, with The King’s English. From now on.”

“The King’s English,” repeated the poobah—still muttering, under his breath. It was almost impossible to determine whether it was a question—or a statement.

Probably neither one, determined Jason. The utterance was from some other category, he’d figured. He’d feared! Possibly one that he’d be totally unable—to cope with! Probably one he’d be totally unable—to cope with! It took all the restraint—to hold in the massive, overwhelming sigh, that was building! Welling up—not unlike some sort of volcano! Deep within the rapidly-unraveling “radio personality”!

The president—finally—dismissed his employee! After three or four additional anguish-filled, never-ending, minutes—shrouded in deafening silence! Dismissed him—from the, thankfully-finished, the devastating, “inquisition”. But, Jason could tell that he was now—“on thin ice”.

How thin? Who knew? Who could tell? Certainly not the emotionally-drained young man!

All he could think of—going down, in the elevator—was the sainted source, of all his “inside information”! And the heartbreak that the old man must’ve felt—vis-a-vis the “relationship” (or lack of same) between him, and Jason’s mother! How sad! The troubling thought, for some reason, seemed—always—to keep replaying! Had—probably—for years! But, why now? How incredibly sad!

The thought/hope kept returning: Hopefully, Mary Rose would be the grand (hopefully, the grandiose) source—of all kinds of “specialness” for him! Well, for both of them! If “his little girl” was to turn out to be anything like her mother, “specialness” would appear—to be a sure thing!

Always that same thought!

Again, please Lord!

THIRTY THREE

June 6, 1944: D-Day! The, widely-anticipated-albeit-scary, first invasion of the European Continent! The first such military undertaking—in six centuries! A staggering, highly-complicated, campaign! Casualties—to the Allied Forces exceeded 10,000! Amazing! Incredible! The beginning of the end—for the “vastly-superior”, “unstoppable”, “destined-to-rule-the-world”, Third Reich!

Two days later: Another—more locally centered—cause, for celebration occurred! Causing no less jubilation, however! Well, undoubtedly, for no group—other than the Jason Rutkowski family, of Detroit, Michigan! Well, and some of their friends.

Born on June 8th? One Cynthia Rutkowski! She’d weighed in—at a-pound-and-a-half less, than her older sister! Her cautious status—was what would come, in later years, to be known as a “preemie”! The newcomer had “shown up” two weeks early! Fortunately, she was given a clean “bill of health”, by Dr. Leonard Kramer, the kindly family physician, of the Rutkowski—and the Atkinson—families. He was joined—in that happy diagnosis—by the Head of Obstetrics, and the Head of Pediatrics, at New Grace Hospital!

Jason, of course, was thrilled! (What else?) He had—as previously been mentioned (many times)—always subscribed to Grandpa Piepczyk’s firm belief, that there has always been “something special . . . something very special… between daddies and daughters. Always!” This etched-in-stone fundamental had been staunchly embedded—well before Our Hero had actually known the unmitigated joy of fatherhood. However, the one tragic exception—Sheila Rutkowski’s relationship, with her father—had always been terribly troubling, for the new daddy! But, especially so—since, first one daughter, then a second one, had “dropped in”!

From the very start—he had always treasured “his” now-15-month-old Mary Rose! She was just “rounding into shape”—as a bona fide little girl, as opposed to having been an infant, for all of her life—when Cynthia decided to make her “debut”! Truly, his “cup ran over”! Spectacularly—it ran over!

As the coast-to-coast jubilation, over the dazzling European invasion had begun to subside—at least somewhat—“the outside world” began to look forward to the November 7th Presidential Election.

The event—what could/would mean a historic fourth term, for FDR—didn’t hold that much intrigue, for the new papa. The event, of course contained absolutely no suspense. He knew that President Roosevelt would—comfortably—defeat Governor Dewey. The only US president—to ever serve more than two terms.

For Jason,