"With apologies to my father for telling my version of our difficult story, for he is no longer alive to tell his."

In Touch With His Soul, The Teenage Years

Gina Cerminara's poignant biographical interview with Walden Welch continues·

"The Tall Man"

Chapter 11

Dr: (Laughing) "Yes. I have been to Bakersfield on several occasions to lecture. I know how hot it gets there. It has a reputation for being one of California's hottest cities."

WW: "Hottest cities for weather conditions only, NOT for hot times I can assure you! (Laugh) Having lived there I know. That first day I saw the city of Bakersfield was such a disappointment. I sat at the passenger side window as Dad drove the three of us to our new home. I had never seen such wide flat streets before. It looked as if it would take a day for a person to cross one of them. It also seemed strange to see such wide streets with hardly any traffic using them. I think it was so hot out that hardly anyone left his or her air-conditioned home. The buildings were rarely more than one or two stories high, which also, of course, made everything, appear to be flattened and unappealing to the eye. Dad said that on July 29^th of 1952 a horrific earthquake destroyed almost all the buildings in Bakersfield. Therefore, almost everything had to be rebuilt from scratch and it was decided by the powers that be that no building was to be built beyond two stories high, in case of any future earthquake catastrophes. Maybe that explained the strange appearance of the town. I really don't know. But it was a colorless and bleak town, I can assure you. Everything seemed to be painted beiges and tans and just kind of melted into the sandy desert soil."

Dr: "As I recall, John Steinbeck wrote about the settling of Bakersfield in his novel 'The Grapes Of Wrath'. I believe it was the Texans that first came and settled in that area and that the land so reminded them of their own state that they began building a town which was a composite replica of the towns they had left behind them."

WW: "I believe you're right. And, of course, the main industry in Bakersfield became oil just as it had in Texas. Well, whatever its history I thought of it as an uninteresting flat, colorless and barren place. I likened it to living in a lonely crater of the moon. There were the Tehachapi Mountains far off in the distance but they were so far off in the distance in fact that they looked like small hills."

Dr: "What was your new home like?"

WW: "I was so disappointed when I first saw it! I had to bite my lip. I remember Mom squeezing my hand. She knew how disappointed I was. I was hoping for a pretty house surrounded by a huge lawn and trees in a nice middle-class neighborhood. 

As the Bungalows Stand Today, 2001 - Barely Changed

What we were moving into wasn't really a home at all. It was more of a bungalow, a small, white, square, wooden-framed bungalow. Actually it was one of three, which sat all in a row along the curb of 4^th Street near the corner of Chester Avenue. Ours was to the left closest to Chester Ave., which was, and is, the main street of town. Between our house and the corner sat a small Church of The Nazarene. We had a tiny green lawn that surrounded the house. It was so tiny in fact that in never took more than ten minutes to mow. My father had already furnished the house before Mom and I arrived. Guy Foss hadn't let Mom have any furniture or artifacts when we left our home in Stockton so everything we now owned belonged to Bud. You would have sworn a monk lived inside. The furnishings were so modest and sparse that it barely resembled a home. There was a monastic look about the place that was most unsettling and displeasing to the eye: a basic kitchen table with four chairs painted a drab apple green, a basic double bed and dresser in each of the two bedrooms. One basic dark green sofa and one over stuffed matching chair filled the tiny living room. Everything was just basic and plain. There was no television or radio. He did have one small glass paneled bookcase in the living room. Shelved was a collection of his only and favorite books. Interestingly enough, they were all on religion, mostly Eastern. 'The Flowering Tree', Buddhist works, Confucianism - that sort of thing. There were also small white porcelain statues of various Chinese Gods and Goddesses that he used as bookends. The only picture that hung on the wall was the only photo ever taken of his father. He was a very handsome man dressed in a baseball suit. The floors were all polished hardwood. There were no rugs or carpets anywhere. The place looked windswept. It looked like a monastery. That's the only way to describe it."

Walden's Grandfather

Dr: " Was Julia as disappointed with her new home as you were?"

WW: "If she was she did not show it. Mom was never materialistically inclined. Possessions did not hold great meaning for her. I know she was disappointed for me, but she promised me we would not live here forever and that after we settled we would look for a new place to live."

Dr: "And, did you?"

WW: "No. I lived in that house for six years until I graduated from high school. The year I left home they finally moved to a new place. Actually they moved two months after I left."

Dr: "They probably remained there to keep you in the same school district?"

WW: "No, I don't think it was for that reason. I think my father refused to move from there to punish me."

Dr: "Punish you? I'm afraid I don't understand."

WW: (Laugh) "You will when I tell you about my father."

Dr: "Very well. Then please do. I have a feeling that when you and Julia stepped off that train you did not step into the idyllic new life one would have hoped for the two of you?"

WW: "Do you recall my saying that the years of 1955 through 1961 were the most difficult years of my life?"

Dr: "I do. I recall you saying that. So what you were referring to was your life with your father? Living with the man himself made this the hardest period of your life?"

WW: "Yes. Had I then known what the future would bring I would never have stepped off that train.  My greatest disappointment and hardship came when my father reentered my life. He was a very difficult and complex man. Although there were traits about him I greatly admired, there was another side to his nature that frightened and intimidated me. It has taken me too many years to try and undo all the psychological havoc he created for me. I have finally done that. Thank God for my belief in reincarnation and karma. I would have never recovered from his abuses without my deep belief in karma. I have had several past life Readings regarding my father's and my relationship throughout time. These Readings were instrumental to my healing."

Dr:  "Before we go into this let us go back to your first year living with your father. I want to keep events in continuity. I think it is important we view your life before you believed in reincarnation and karma and then later introduce the additional information that caused your healing."

WW: "Of course. It did not take me long to realize that my father really did not want me in his life. He was a man who could only love one person and that one person was my mother. There was no room in his narrow world for anyone else. He greatly resented her love and affection towards me and, therefore, felt competitive towards me. I knew this to be true from the very first week I began living with him. I seemed to be a constant annoyance to him and so I kept out of his way the best that I could. I did everything that I was told to do. I was never a problem. Dad was, however, very critical of everyone and everything so, therefore, nothing I did was ever considered to be right or good enough. I just walked on eggs all the time, always afraid I would be criticized for something. What was left of summer vacation passed quickly and I entered the 8^th Grade at Emerson Jr. High School. It was just four long blocks down 4^th Street from where we lived. I had several teachers with the strangest names, Mrs. Hustlelbus, Miss McNulty, Mrs. Showalter. They were all very nice to me. I always got along well with my teachers.  The one exception to this would have been Mr. Marsh. He was my physical education teacher. I think his first name was John. I was pretty frightened by him. He was a strong and muscular little guy, and carried the attitude of a drill sergeant. Winning was everything to him. It didn't matter how it was done just so long as you won. That was his motto. Well, I had this thing about adrenaline rush or whatever you call it."

Dr: "Oh yes. You mentioned that. I believe you said this disliking of competition came upon you during the period you were ill with that strange case of what you and Julia called 'Susan-I-tis'?"

WW: "Yes, I do believe it began with that sickness. Anyway, it really hurts me physically to feel adrenaline rush. I hate the feeling of that surge or whatever it is. I never had to worry about winning at games like football because my hands were too small to throw the ball. The same held true for basketball, plus I was shorter than most all of the other boys. For some unknown reason I could really run well. It's crazy. I don't know why but I can run really fast, so of course Mr. Marsh put me in track competition and pushed me and pushed me into out-running all the other team mates. I was so afraid of the man that I did whatever he told me despite the fact of the physical pain winning caused me. The closest competition I had was one of my classmates. His name was Ricardo Lucien. He was a Philippine boy about the same size as I was. As I recall , he was very kind and friendly and impossible not to like. He wanted to be a Hollywood stunt man when he grew up. (Laugh) He would throw himself off monkey bars, fall flat on his face, intentionally run into walls, and do anything outrageous he could to imitate a stunt man. Well, anyway as I said, Ricky was my closest rival and competition. Mr. Marsh arranged a weekend track meet to which all our parents were invited. I had never had to compete in front of the public before and I dreaded this event more than anything ever! I didn't want my parents to be there and begged Mom to please not come. She understood my anxiety and agreed not to attend. I would never have expected my father to come. He didn't seem to have any interest in my school affairs. Well, I had a special plan for this competition. I had heard that Ricky's father would be there and that he was very ill with cancer. For some reason, because of my young years, I though it would be right and noble for me to loose the race to Ricky for the sake of his father having the joy of seeing his son win."

Dr: "You mean you wanted Ricky's father to see his son win the race? You unselfishly forfeited your win for this reason? "

WW: "Yes. That was my plan. That seemed very important to me considering his father was gravely ill. Now before you declare me a saint, also realize I had a selfish motive to my plan as well. I figured that if I lost the race, and continued to loose future races, that Mr. Marsh would get off my back and I wouldn't have to go through the hell of all the adrenalin rush winning caused me."

Dr: "And so you did this? You let Ricky win that day?"

WW: "I did. I lagged behind at the finish line and let him beat me. It felt wonderful! Truly it did. Ricky was so happy and proud. His father stood and cheered for him. It was a wonderful moment for me and for them."

Dr: "You amaze me Mr. Welch! Have you any idea what a kind and beautiful thing you did that day?"

WW: "My generosity also brought me the one of the two beautiful moments I ever had with my father. You see, I had no idea whatsoever that my dad attended the meet that day. He walked up to me after the race. My heart must have skipped a hundred beats when I saw him. 'You lost that race intentionally didn't you?', he asked. 'Well, answer me. Anybody could see that you intentionally slowed down at the finish line. Why the hell did you do that?' Afraid to look into his eyes I looked to the ground instead and said, 'I did it because Ricky's dad is sick with cancer and I wanted him to see Ricky win.' I wasn't sure whether Dad would hit me or continue scolding me so I just stood there not knowing what else to say except for the truth. Much to my surprise he put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to him. I looked up at him and he was wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. 'You're a good boy. I'm proud of you,' he said as he blew his nose. That was all that he said. That day was never discussed again. That was one of the kindest moments I ever had with my father. And besides, I got a dog out of it! Well, I thought I got a dog out of it. Actually how I got my dog was due to Mom. I had pestered her to have one from the moment we planned to move to Bakersfield. She promised me I could get one but she had no idea at that time that my father disliked them and considered them to be 'dirty germ carriers'. I later learned that he refused to allow me to have one, but Mom pleaded with him that she keep her promise to me and that is how I got Cindy.  At the time he took me to the animal shelter to pick out a dog I thought it was as a reward for my generosity in letting Ricky win the race. I soon found out otherwise. 'The only reason you are getting this animal is because you have manipulated your mother into making me get it for you. This will never happen again! Do you understand what I am saying to you? If there is one problem with this dog, I am sending it to the pound. One mistake and that dog goes. Keep it out of my sight and don't you ever manipulate behind my back again!'  I, of course, did what he said. Cindy slept with me at the foot of my bed. I took her on walks, fed her daily and thanked God every moment that I had her. She was a beautiful Terrier mix with a personality as lovely as her face. I named her Cindy because she was as black as a cinder but she had a bright white star on her chest. All the love I had had for Brutus I transferred to her. I had not made any close personal school friends yet and so Cindy became my 'best friend'. The time I spent with her was one of the happiest periods of my life. To say I adored her is an understatement.  It did not matter how I got her. What mattered was that I made no mistakes so that I could keep her." 

Walden and Cindy

Dr: "From what has thus far been related it is obvious your father was a stern and difficult man. Yet there was a kindness to his nature as depicted with his affection for you for having unselfishly lost the track meet. Please continue with your involvement with him, your analysis of the type of person you knew him to be."

WW: " While I was studying Astrology with Elinor Melin in 1963 she gave me an assignment to erect my fathers horoscope. He was born in Oakland, California on December 1^st, 1912 at 3:45 AM, a Sagittarian with Libra Rising and The Moon in Virgo. After setting up his Chart I handed it to Elinor for approval. She took a quick look at it and said, 'Oh my! He has Mars Conjunct his  Sun Squaring the Moon in Virgo! He is a bit insane isn't he?' I recall being somewhat dumbfounded by her comment. I had never stopped to question the reasons for his behavior before. I had never assumed that he was somewhat mad. Like most kids I had just accepted his conduct as 'his conduct'. Elinor had indeed come upon a truth, and as I studied his Chart and his personal background my father's behavior began to become understandable to me. Although there was much about him that I admired he also had a sadistic side to his nature. He could be deviously cruel when he wanted to be. I think he sometimes could not control his sadistic urges. A dark side of his nature would overcome him. I could always tell when it was going to emerge. His voice would become low and shaky and his hands would begin to tremble with a nervous excitement. It was truly frightening. I would have to prepare myself for whatever was to come. I would just take it, whatever it was. I think maybe he inherited this insanity from his Grandfather."

Dr: "His Grandfather? Tell me what you know about his past, his childhood, his early years."

Walden's Father

WW: "I really don't know very much. He was never interested in his past or his family. He rarely ever spoke of them or his boyhood. Whenever he mentioned his mother it was always in bitterness. However, he had a grandfather who he obviously loved. I do not know if this was his paternal or maternal grandfather but when he spoke of the man he spoke in joy and in laughter. 'My granddad was a crazy old nut!', he would say. 'I spent most of my boyhood living with him. We lived next door to a Catholic convent. Granddad absolutely hated the nuns next door! He used to call them dirty names and throw rocks at them,' Dad would laugh. 'He was crazier than a coot but I loved that old man. My Old Lady was nothing but a whore,' he would continue. 'Every time I came home from school there was a new man in the house she would call my dad. I lost count after 13 of them and took my baby brother Tony and moved into my granddad's house.'

Dr: "He had a younger brother?"

WW: "Yes, but they had different fathers. My dad's father died of spinal meningitis just three months before Dad was born. I have no doubt that he longed to know the man all of his life.  My Uncle Tony's father was an Italian man whose last name was Mealgia. Whether he and my grandmother had ever been married I do not know. The one man, other than their grandfather, who was most influential in raising the boys was a man whose last name was Welch. According to my uncle, Mr. Welch was a very kind and caring man. It was not until I was an adult that my father told me that Welch was not my real last name. 'Your real last name is Juzieux,' he said to me bluntly one day. 'It's French. My dad died before I was born and later my mother lived with a man named Welch so we took his name to get food stamps during the war.' That's all he ever told me about the matter. Whether Mr. Welch had married my grandmother I do not know but having been told by Uncle Tony that Mr. Welch was a good man makes me happy to carry his name."

Dr: "Was Bud close to his brother Tony?"

WW: "Let's say that Tony wanted to be closer to my dad then my dad wanted to be with him. In the six years that I lived in Bakersfield, Tony would stop by to visit about twice a year. He didn't live far from us but Dad never invited him over so his visits were rare, but for Mom and myself they were very welcome. Tony really liked Mom and me, and he had a great love for Dad too. Dad was just never overly friendly or demonstrative with him or anyone else. Tony was the one singular person who ever visited my dad. He was the only friend my father ever had. I know without question that Dad loved Tony. I think that Mom, his grandfather and Uncle Tony were the only three people dad ever loved. He called his brother Babe. 'Babe is a nice guy, but stupider than hell,' Dad would say. 'He doesn't have any common sense and always marries the wrong women, but has a heart of gold.' Tony was on his third marriage when he came into my life, and yes Dad was right, he did have a heart of gold. In truth Tony was far nicer than my father could have ever hoped to be, but was certainly not as intellectual as he. For me the most aggravating characteristic of my father's nature was how he enjoyed intellectually belittling people. He considered everyone to be stupid except for himself and yet at the same time he proclaimed himself to be humble, simplistic and with no concept of human ego. I think his self-deception in this area came about from his constant reading of such notable masters as Christ, Buddha and Gandhi. 'Most people just live to eat. I, however merely eat to live. Food has no meaning for me,' he would say. 'People are as stupid and as a flock of geese. They just eat and crap!' After sufficient humiliation of the human species he would usually sum it all up by quoting Shakespeare: 'What fools these mortals be!' There was no question about it: my father was an intellectual snob and yet at the same time he declared, 'I am nothing more than a handful of dirt, a mere grain of sand, an infinitesimal nothing!' Not a day went by that I was not reminded of his intellectual superiority above all other people and his complaints that there was no one he could share his intellect with. 'People just waste their lives eating a crapping! All I need is your mother and myself and one desert island with one coconut tree for us to survive,' he would say. 'Everything else in this world is meaningless to me.' Needless to say, I was never mentioned as being included on that island. I hate to say it, but in all truth my dad was the most self-centered egotist I have ever known. How he ever believed he was graced with humility I will never know!"

Dr: (Laugh) I well know the type! Please go on."

WW: "There was a dark side to my father's nature. He was possessed by another entity, an entity that I secretly named and called 'The Monk'. Other people would not have believed me had I told them of the things he did to torment me. They would never have believed an adult could perform such childishly cruel acts of punishment and revenge. Dad's dark side would emerge whenever there were situations when my mother would choose my needs or wants above his. Whenever this occurred Dad would scheme and plot ways in which to revenge me for my having won her approval above his. I quickly learned never to upset his lifestyle or daily routines for to do so would surely provoke this demon he hid inside. I thought of 'The Monk' as another entity that lived in our house. Mom was not aware that 'The Monk' lived amongst us for both Dad and I hid our knowledge of 'The Monk's' existence from her. Only he and I knew 'The Monk' existed."

Dr: "You frighten me. Are you saying that your Father had a perverse 'Jeckle and Hyde' side to his nature, one that you referred to as 'The Monk'?

WW: "He did indeed! 'The Monk' was an ideal name for Dad's Mr. Hyde character because my father lived like a monk lived and I quickly learned ways not to disturb Dad's monastic routines lest I provoke that demon within him that I called 'The Monk'. Mom was not aware that 'The Monk' existed so, therefore, she was the one who unknowingly disturbed and provoked it to emerge. For example, when we first moved into my father's home he had arranged everything in the exact order in which he preferred to live. I have already described how the house was sparsely furnished. He did not like noise of any nature and, therefore, there was no television set, radio or phonograph present. 'I detest racket and noise! My ears are very sensitive to sound and I need quiet at all times. I have a constant ringing in my ears. Music and noise provoke my condition,' he declared. 'Oh for heavens sake, Bud. What's a home without a TV and radio? Wally and I need something to watch and listen to while you're away at work,' Mom pleaded. 'Every boy needs a record player, too. I promise you we will keep the volume low and not disturb you.' Despite Dad's protesting Mama somehow got her way with him and a television, radio and small portable phonograph arrived. I, however, paid the penalty for Mom's requests. Late one night after we had all gone to bed and were fast asleep Dad burst into my room and shook me awake. 'Listen you little punk! Don't you ever play your Mother against me again, do you hear? I'll beat the hell out of you if you ever try that trick again. This is your warning and you better listen to it!' That said, he slapped me along side my head and exited out of my room in the dark as quickly and quietly as he had entered. That was the first time 'The Monk' had made his appearance, but it would certainly not be the last. I was to encounter him hundreds of times in the years I was to know my father. I soon learned never to watch the TV or play the radio or record player when he was at home. No matter how low I had the volume he would dash into the room cursing, 'God damn you! Turn that damn thing down. You're doing that intentionally to annoy me!' He would then turn the volume control knob down until there was no sound emanating whatsoever. Worst of all I would find that the needle on my record player was constantly broken. When no one was around he would obviously press the arm of the player into the turntable to break off the head of the phonograph needle. I soon gave up spending my allowance for new needles knowing this practice would not stop. My radio did not last long either. I kept it on my desk directly next to my bed where I could keep the volume barely audible to hear it. Dad would hide behind the bathroom door that separated my parents' bedroom from mine and suddenly dash into my room whispering between clenched teeth, 'I've told you a thousand times to keep that volume down damn you! That's it! No more radio privileges!' That said, he removed a couple of tubes from my radio rendering it useless from then on. According to him that was not enough punishment for my deed however. He also replaced my bedroom overhead light bulb with a 10-watt bulb for a period of three months punishment.  It was nearly impossible for me to get dressed for school under such a dim light. One day I humiliated myself by wearing one blue and one green sock to school much to the amusement of the other students. I just never knew when and where Dad would appear. He walked silently as a cat. He would pounce upon me at the most unexpected moments. One morning I was merely combing my hair in my bedroom wall mirror when I suddenly saw his face appear beside mine scaring me into jumping out of my skin an inch or two. 'You think your cute, don't you punk? Well you not! I don't like vanity God damn it! This mirror is going! You'll learn you're not so good looking!' And it went! My mirror disappeared from that day until I moved away from home six years later. Naturally, I did the entire house cleaning too. Mom was able to cook but her physical condition made it impossible for her to do heaving cleaning. I had always done the housework and it had never bothered me before we moved to Bakersfield. My father was so fastidious that this duty now became a nightmare for me. Nothing I could do was ever up to his approval or satisfaction. The bathtub was to be cleaned and scoured daily. The lawn was to be mowed every Saturday morning at 8:00 P.M. exactly. I was to mow from the left to the right only. The trimming was to be done with a pair of paper scissors because they did a neater job that lawn trimming shears. The length of the grass was to be one and one fourth of an inch in height. Dad would measure its length with a wooden ruler to be certain that it was. I washed all breakfast and dinner dishes after which he would personally inspect each and every utensil to be certain they were spotlessly clean. If my cleaning was not to his satisfaction, my punishment would be 'no allowance or movie privileges for one week.' You would have though that my father had been a military man. Not so! He was never in the service and did not believe in it. Yet every chore he gave me was as if given by a sergeant. My most dreaded chore was the one I called 'toothpicks and pennies.'"

Dr: "Toothpicks and Pennies?

WW: "Yes, 'toothpicks and pennies.' I was to wax and polish the hardwood floors once every month, sweep them weekly and scrub and mop the linoleum floors once a week. Before I began doing so Dad would scatter and hide toothpicks and pennies throughout various locations in the house. It was my job to find and collect each and every one of them and present them to him for the count after I finished the cleaning. If the count was not exact my punishment was a week of no allowance and movie for each toothpick and penny missing. I would also have to entirely re-clean the floors until the missing objects were found. On several occasions, depending on how mean The Monk chose to be, I would note my father taking an additional toothpick and throw it off into some corner of the room thinking I had not seen him. I never knew what the original count was. He kept that secret to himself. Whatever punishment was administered and for whatever reason it was·was because 'it was good for my character' according to Dad."                

Dr: "Good for your character? Good Lord!  For goodness sake, what did Julia think of all this? Didn't she intervene in your defense?"

WW: "Of course she did. However she was not aware of the majority of his cruel conduct towards me. I hid that from her just as I had hidden Les' and Guy's conduct. When a person is ill bad things are hidden from them. Any emotional upset could have been critical to her heart condition. In truth Mom's greatest wish was for Dad and I to become close, very close. 'Please? Please give him a chance,' she would beg me. 'He is really a wonderful man. He doesn't realize yet that you do not need such strict discipline. I am working on him to see that. It's just that he never had anyone to say "no" to him or tell him when to come home or any one that even cared about him. He is going to an extreme with you because he believes that telling you what time to come home and what time to go to bed means he loves you and wants to see you safe and protected.' I know that Mom believed what she told me but I also knew that my father showed me a side of his nature that she had never seen nor was ever subjected to. I also knew that if I told her the cruel things he did to me she would have believed me. However, I also knew she would have left him for my sake and I knew I could not let that happen."

Dr: "But why for heavens sake? Why didn't you tell her to protect yourself from him considering his treatment towards you was an extension of what you had already lived through and escaped from with Les and Guy?"

WW: "Because there was also a side to my father's nature that was wonderfully loving and kind. He adored my mother. I had never seen a man so worship a woman. He was gentle and patient with her beyond words. Whenever we went out to dinner he would hold her hand, call her 'Sweetie' and 'My Little China Doll', and various other pet names he had chosen for her. His favorite name for her was, 'My Little Soul Mate'. Mom was truly adored and you have no idea what this meant to me considering the fact that I had witnessed all the abuses Les and Guy had subjected her to. I had also been witness to all her illnesses and the suffering she went through during he many years of being bed-ridden. Now that my father had reentered her life she was happy for the first time I could ever remember. He was making this possible and I was determined not to ruin this happiness for her. I cannot say that I ever loved my father. It would be a lie to say that I did. But, I can say I loved him for loving her. That is the only love I ever felt for him. I do, however, have great sympathy and compassion towards him as well as a great deal of admiration for many things that he did on Mom's behalf.  I was not jealous of his relationship with mom, I welcomed it. You must realize that he took a great deal of burden off my shoulders too. She was finally safe and protected and I was not entirely responsible to her safety and well being anymore."

Dr: "Considering his treatment towards you I feel you are indeed very generous crediting him with such a capacity of loving. I understand what you mean of course."

WW: "Yes, and there was another factor too, a more metaphysical one. I sincerely believed God had brought the two of them back together again. In that had I been given visions of oil wells in advance of their reuniting I truly believed the hand of God had planned their reunion. An even more inspiring indication of God's hand in this came about the first Christmas we, as a family, spent together. Mom had taken a few snapshots of our first Christmas spent together. A few days later she had the photos developed. I entered the kitchen for lunch one day and found her sitting at our dining table crying. She was looking through the snapshots that had just arrived from the developer. 'Mama, for goodness sake what's the matter?', I asked worriedly. Her teary eyes looked into mine and she said to me in an almost whispered tone, 'Honey, do you remember when I died and saw the door to heaven?' 'Yes, of course I do,' I replied. "Well, do you remember that The Librarian gave me a second door to look through? 'Yes,' I answered. 'You said the second door was one from which you felt much sorrow and that you really didn't want to enter it but you felt you had something to finish and that you should choose it instead of the first door.' 'Yes', she continued. 'And remember I saw the kneeling figures of both a boy and a man but they were silhouetted as if in a fog? 

I thought maybe the boy was you but then I knew it couldn't be because you were only five years old back then.' 'Yes, I remember it all, Mama. You also saw two small ball shaped spheres and a pyramid or a tree but you couldn't really make anything out clearly because of the fog that covered things from view.' 'That's right. And I also sensed something about Christmas.' Mom slowly handed me the photograph she had been holding in her hand. In this picture knelt my father and I beside a small pyramid shaped Christmas tree. A round sphere shaped ball sat in my lap. It was a basketball my father had given me for our first Christmas together. Needless to say by the look upon my face I was not at all happy with the present. Sitting beside my father was a globe of the galaxies. He was then studying the stars and Mom and I had bought him this globe of the heavens. 'We sure don't look very happy, do we Mom?', I asked. 'No, Sweetie, you don't,' she replied. 'But when I was in Purgatory and saw this vision the two men seemed very sad and I wanted somehow to help them. Now I know why. It's because God was giving me a preview of my future, that I would one day again marry Bud and that the three of us would again be together. This photograph is what I saw, Sweetie.' 

Mom and I sat silently for several moments both transfixed by the photograph and the story she told. We had shared many sacred moments between us, but this one experience was perhaps the most meaningful. I finally broke our silence by saying, 'But you had said that this was The Door of Unhappiness, Mom. Do you remember?' 'Yes,' she replied. 'But I was wrong. I never thought I would ever be this happy again. I never dreamed it could happen in a million years. I know you haven't adjusted to all the changes yet, Sweetheart, but if you give it just a little more time I know that everything will get better between you and your father. I know how much he loves you. He tells me all the time. You two just need more time to get to know each other. Please be patient. You're getting happier now aren't you?' Knowing how important my father's return into Mom's life was I nodded my head 'yes'. 'Yes, I'm getting happier, Mom,' I lied. 'I know things are getting better.'"

Dr: "This photograph and the story behind it are remarkable. I can well imagine how this photograph affected your and Julia's lives."

WW: "More than you could know. This photograph actually held us together for the rest of our lives in a way·in a very strange way. You see, shortly after this photograph came into our lives there was an episode between my father and I that almost caused my mother to separate from my father. I recall that this happened a day or two before Mothers Day, 1957. Dad took my shopping with him one afternoon. I wanted to buy some perfume and a Mothers Day card for mom. After doing so I spent some of my allowance on a small bag of dog candy for my dog Cindy. Dad and I were waiting at the bus stop to catch the bus home when he noticed the bag in my hand and asked me what it was. 'I bought Cindy some dog candy,' I answered. 'You did what?', he asked as if he could not believe what I had said. 'I bought Cindy some dog candy with my allowance money,' I answered again. 'You are not going to waste my hard earned money on candy for that damn dog!', he bellowed. 'Now take it back to the store where you got it and get your money back!', he demanded. 'But it's my money,' I replied. With that comment he slapped me so hard across my face that I literally flew across the sidewalk into the wall of the building behind us. 'Don't you ever talk back to me like that you little punk!', he yelled. I remember being so stunned by what he had so unexpectedly done to me that I just sat there dazed for several minutes. I looked around to see if anyone had seen this, for I was so embarrassed I couldn't cry. My bag of candy had ripped open and I began gathering the little dog candies while I sat there on the sidewalk. 'Get up! I ought to make you eat those damn things yourself. You're never to waste my hard earned money on that kind of crap again. Do you hear me? And don't you even think of mentioning this to your mother! If you mention anything about this to her and upset her I'll beat the crap out of you!' That evening at dinner I said nothing about this episode, of course. The three of us sat at the table eating dinner when suddenly I felt a hurtful 'pinch' on my thigh. I automatically reached down to find what was biting me when I discovered it was my father's hand. He had my fleshed clenched between his forefinger and thumb and was squeezing it as hard as he could.  Disbelieving what was happening to me I looked across the small table into his face. He was talking quietly to Mom as if nothing whatsoever was happening. I was too frightened and too stunned to say or do anything. Without Mom being aware what was happening I tugged his hand loose from my leg and left the table to go to the bathroom to see if my leg was bleeding. Before bedtime I sat down and wrote a letter to my Aunt Lorraine. In this letter I poured out my heart to my aunt about all the difficulties I had experienced with my father in our short time together. I asked her to please consider letting me move in with her and her family, and to help me find a way to convince my mother to let me move. When I finished writing the letter I hid it under other papers I had stacked in my desk drawer and went to sleep. When I left for school the next day I did not mail my letter.  Sometime during that day my dad had been secretly snooping through my drawers and he discovered it. He read the entire letter with all my confessions of his treatment towards me. Later that afternoon when I returned home from school I entered my bedroom. Mom and Dad were standing by my desk and my father was holding this letter in his hands. 'You explain this to me, God damn you! How dare you make me out to be some son-of-a-bitch villain! How in the hell could you write this?' He was shaking violently, the way he always did when he was upset. I was terrified to say the least. Mom just stood there beside him with a pathetically concerned look upon her face. 'I didn't mean it,' I said. 'I wasn't going to mail it. I'm sorry·honest I am. I didn't mean it. I wasn't going to mail it.' That was all I could think to answer. I was frightened, embarrassed and humiliated beyond words. 'You're God damned right you aren't going to mail it. I would like to throw you out of this house forever you ungrateful little punk! Get the hell out of my sight!'  And so I did. I kept out of his sight as much as I could. Dad, Mom, I·we all just walked on eggs for the next couple of days trying to put out of our minds the ugly incident regarding my letter. We did not discuss it again at all until the day before Mother's Day when I returned home from school. Mom had a very concerned look upon her face. I could tell immediately that she was greatly disturbed. 'I want to speak with you before your father comes home from work,' she said. 'Let's go into your bedroom and talk.' I sat on the edge of my bed while Mom sat at my desk chair along side it. She put her hand into mine and said most solemnly, 'I know that you are not happy. I know that. I try to pretend and tell myself that you are, but I'm just selfishly lying to myself for I know that you are not.' 'No I'm not,' I answered softly. 'I try to be but I'm not.' 'I know that and I know why, but that is all going to change now. I'm going to leave your father.' I was so surprised by Mom's statement that all I could think of to say was, 'But don't you love him anymore, Mama?' 'Of course I love him, but I love you more. I always have and I always will. You're my baby and my best friend. I would die for you I love you so much. Behind Bud's back I have to convince him that I love him more than you. Behind his back I have to convince you that I love you more than him. I'm so exhausted from it! Can't you guys realize that the love I have each of you is just as intense but different? I love him more than I could ever love any husband and you I love more than I could ever love any other son. But I love my mother and father too, my brothers and sisters, my friends·I love them all just as intensely but in a different way. There is no competition here. You men are so silly that if God himself walked into this room and said, "Who would you pick to save from dying? Your wife or your son?" Why you men are so stupid you would count on your fingers and say 'eeny meenie minny mo!' A woman would not want to make that choice, but her choice would have to be her son for you are my greatest love and I cannot bare to see you this unhappy. That is why I am leaving your father. He isn't fair with you. He is far too strict. He doesn't show you affection or praise. He is not at all the  kind and loving father believed that he would be. . I am as disappointed in him as you are. But, I do know that he loves you. Behind your back he tells me how proud he is of you, how good and bright and handsome you are·he does tell me these things. It is you he should be telling them to but he is afraid you will get a swelled head. He thinks you should be humble when it is really he who needs to be humble. He is doing to you what should have been done to him. I have tried so hard to bridge the gap between the two of you. I know it's not your fault, Sweetie. Believe me I have tried every single day to communicate with your father and make him see that he doesn't have to feel competitive for my love for you. He's jealous of that love and in so many ways he wants to take your place in my heart.' 'It's because of his childhood isn't it?', I interrupted. 'It's because he didn't have a dad and he didn't really have a mom.' 'Yes,' Mom continued. 'Thank you for having the wisdom to understand. He was broken by his childhood and he wants me to be all things for him. He is like a selfish child who wants no competition. But despite all that is difficult about him, Wally, he is a good man. Your father is truly the best of all men. If you knew him as I did you would see that for yourself.' 'I know that you love him, Mama and I'm not jealous that you do. I just don't know why he doesn't know how good I am. Why in the world doesn't he know that? I never do anything wrong. I never get in trouble. I do what I'm told. Why doesn't he know how good I am?', I pleaded. 'He knows, Sweetheart. He would have to be blind and dumb not to know that. He is just jealous of you because I love you so much. He is more of a child then you are or ever were. That is the problem and that is why I must leave him. You have given me all of your life and I can no longer stand for your unhappiness. I can no longer hope that he will change and I can no longer pretend that you are happy when I know in fact it has been my selfishness that has stood in your way.' I put my arms around my mother's neck and drew her check next to mine. 'You're not selfish Mama. You have never been selfish. I love you with all my heart. I don't want you to leave him. I know how much you love him. I will try to be better. I'll do everything I can to be what he wants me to be. Please Mama, please let's stay? I know he couldn't live without you and I know you have loved him all your life. It will only be four more years before I will be old enough to leave him. I can make it that long.' Something I said made Mom begin to cry uncontrollably. 'No! It's settled. You sleep on what we have discussed today and we will make our decision in the morning. Tonight you think of where you would like us to go. We could go back to Stockton near our family there or to Santa Cruz to be with your Grandparents. You sleep on it and give me your decision in the morning.'"

Dr: "And did you sleep on it? Did you give her your decision the next morning?"

WW: "I did, by way of card. The following morning was Mother's Day. I had bought her a lovely Mother's Day card with my allowance money the day Dad had taken me shopping. I remember that it was decorated with beautiful red roses. I had chosen it for that reason because red roses were Mama's favorite flower. She was still asleep when I finished my breakfast and left for school that morning. I tiptoed into her bedroom on my way out of the house and placed her Mother's Day card on the pillow beside her."

Dr: "Do you recall what the card said?"

WW: "It was just one of those gooey, sentimental verse cards typical for Mother's Day."

Dr: "And what about your decision? What did you decide to do? Did you choose to return to Stockton or go to Santa Cruz to be with your Grandparents?"

WW: "Neither. I lay in bed that night and pondered our situation. It was not realistic that we could leave. Mom's physical condition made it impossible for her to be employed and I was too young to work. Mom would not accept charity nor was it likely that she would accept alimony from my father if she did divorce him for they had barely renewed their marriage vows and besides, it was obvious she still loved him. She still loved him! It was with this revelation of truth that I came upon my answer. I do believe I 'grew up' at that moment for I suddenly realized that Mom would never again really know happiness if she left my father. I realized during that moment that I also had a responsibility for her happiness and well-being and that my decision could alter any chance she might ever have for any future happiness. If I truly loved her I would not put my desires above hers. I could not allow her to leave. She was truly safe now and for the first time in her life she had security. I could learn to get along with my father for her sake. I was determined from that day forward that I would, that I could find a way. The following morning I wrote my decision in Mom's Mothers Day card and I tucked the Christmas photograph of my father and myself inside. I wrote:

"Dearest Mom, This photograph is proof that there is a God and that He plans our future and knows what is best for us. When you died and visited 'The Library', you were given a choice of life or death. God gave you a preview of coming attractions that if you chose to live you would one day remarry my father for that was your destiny. When I was a boy He also gave me a preview of coming attractions that you and I would move to a place where there were hundreds of oil wells and that place happens to be here where my father lives. Because our previews or our futures did come true I think that we should stay here because this was God's plan for us. He alone knows what is best and I think it would be rude not to accept his gift.  P.S. Besides, it really doesn't matter to me where we live. Just so long as I am with you and Cindy I will always be happy.  

Love Forever,

Wally"

The End Of Chapter 11

Next Month:

"Toothpicks & Pennies"

Chapter 12

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