might do some traveling but except for a trip to the Grand Canyon
they really hadn't been anywhere. Now Dick had been everywhere and
he was tired of it. He'd wanted to start up his own trucking operation
but the wife needed a transplant and they weren't fully covered so
he went on running the long hauls and put aside as much as he could.
One of his neighbors in the park had had a similar problem and his
wife had died. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.
Harry had lived in Portland all his
life and aside from a few trips to Las Vegas and L.A. had never been
out of the state. He'd married his high school sweetheart after missing
out on a football scholarship and they'd had the four boys and lived
in a house full of hunting trophies. Harry's father had been a hunter
and a lumberjack too and was always telling him how the country had
begun to change just about when Harry was born and those Kennedys
got in the White House and brought the hippies
to Washington. You could get the pornography on TV now and sometimes
Harry sat in the den late at night with a bottle of beer just for
the extra hot look they gave you in certain movies, the young breasts
and the big nipples and the woman wide open, and then woke up his
wife and got between her legs before she knew what was happening.
Once he'd caught one of his sons with a girl in the house and threw
the girl out and beat the living daylights out of the boy calling
him a hippie scumbag. That had straightened him out. His wife didn't
like him hitting the boys, or hitting her for that matter, but as
soon as everyone knew his place there wasn't any need for hitting.
Harry was out of work for long stretches of time and had tried professional
wrestling and local lumberjacking competitions for a while. He'd also
worked as a tourist guide and dreamed of running a tourist camp out
in the wilderness for tenderfoots who wanted to impress their women.
He could show them a trick or two.