In the following story, all of the characters are totally fictive and the setting is real. For whomever it would be illegal, immoral or prohibited for any other reason whatsoever to read a story about love between two teenage lads is kindly requested to refrain from continuing. A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net. This being said, I hope you enjoy the tale.
SHACKLEFORD SUMMER part two
by Marin Giustinian
Shackleford Banks, North Carolina, 1968 to 1970
New Bern, July 27, 1968
Dear Sandy,
It's horrible, worse than I imagined. I miss the island, our tent, the horses and above all YOU!
The new youth minister is a real creep! When he talks, it sounds like his mouth is full of peanut butter. He keeps on touching the kids too. I don't like it at all. There's something sickening about him and his prissy way of prancing around trying to look cute.
Mom is all honey and cream and Dad keeps on playing like a football coach with me more than a real father. He's so fake and phony! Everything he does, everything he says is like a lousy actor in a even lousier soap opera. He thinks he's doing a good job playing the part of a good-all-around, making-a-man-out-of-you American father with his should-be-good-all-around-American son. He's just making believe, fooling himself being more imposing than impressive, but now I gave up believing him. Behind his mask, I see that he's lost, caught up in the religious fairytale that has become his only possible world to survive in. His entourage copies him, like they always do. The big, infamous, oppressive, conservative Baptist fairytale is in reality a wicked, blinding lie. My father doesn't see me. The others don't see me. They only see how I SHOULD be and how I'm not what I should be. Nobody sees me like you and your father do. You see me only as I am! You've made me grow a lot in two little weeks!
My father, feeling my resistance to his influence, now thrives on cutting me down, humiliating me, making me feel like shit. But I'm not shit! That I know! Together, we learned beauty, reality, nature and down to earth wisdom.
We learned that the wisest wisdom on earth is the FOLLY of love.
I can never conform neither pretend to conform to the perverted model of a normal, good-all-around, pimple-faced Christian son worshiping his ranting, raving father as he vomits bullshit into the microphone up in his pulpit.
I can't wait for classes to start! It'll do me good, change my mind, get me out of that church, out of thinking about other things than what I'm longing for. The only thing that keeps me from drowning in this cesspool of Christian holiness, is knowing that we are us, inventing the days and especially the nights we lived in love together.
I sincerely hope that coming back to Smithfield won't be as much of a shock on you as my return here was on me. You led me to understand that if you don't have too much to do with your Mom and stepfather, at least they leave you alone!
I hope that all of what I'm writing about is just a passing crisis. I know I'll get over it somehow. I know I've got to resist. I know that school, television, religion -- everything that's UNNATURAL is out there to veil my eyes. But for the time being, they are wide open! They were opened with you on Shackleford! All I pray is that we stay as open-eyed and close together across distance as we are when we're in each other's arms.
Your faithful friend... and more!
Mark
Cape Lookout, August 1, 1968
Dear Mark,
I'm not good at writing, but I'll do my best.
Forget your Dad! You're making yourself sick thinking too much about him. If he's like you say, he doesn't deserve your attention. The more you despise him, the more you give him importance. Let him do his thing. All you gotta do is open your umbrella, raise your anti-shit shield, avoid getting splattered as much as possible.
The other day, while I was rowing away from Shackleford, a bunch of the rich rednecks, guzzling their beer, beached their hundred-thousand dollar show-off speedboat and jumped off and waded up to the shore. I couldn't believe it! Silver, Slim and their posse galloped over and started rearing, digging up sand and being gosh-awful nasty. The guys were scared shitless! I died laughing! Then it hit me! I thought about us, about the spirit we left on Shackleford. We've got our allies over there! Silver and Slim and all the others feel the energy of our love and they're protecting it. Love is energy, our energy. It's contagious and our only bulwark. Never lower you anti-shit shield! The world needs our love!
Good news. Dad's just been sworn in as a ranger with the Seashore people. He can now fine those kinds of bastards when they become more obnoxious than they normally are. Makes me chuckle. You and I can't fine the people the filth they sling at anybody that's not like them. They're the rulers, the same guys that lynched Negros and slew my father's forefathers. They're the guys like my stepfather, stinking of scorched pig fat. They are the bosses down here! But just remember, our lives don't belong to our fathers nor to them! We're born to get out of the house, create things new, go forward, disbelieve in them and even overthrow. Remember! Our love makes of us rebels and as decent, honest, taking-no-shit rebels, we gotta stay steadfast. It's not going to be easy on us being two young homos in love, but so what! We are all I believe in now. Remember, Mark, we're the winners in the long run! That I'm sure of!
In two weeks I'll be back in Smithfield. School's going to be a lot of work this year, but as Dad says, if you don't want to be a bum, then you've gotta graduate. I'm going to work hard because I want you to be proud of me too!
Damn! I miss you, man! A whole, big lot! I've never felt for somebody the way I feel for you. If you STOLE my soul, PLEASE DON'T GIVE IT BACK! We're made to be together, that's as sure as water's wet, so let's not fret. We've got time working for us!
The other day, when you sailed away, I came back to the lighthouse. Dad just held me in his arms while I sobbed my eyes out. He didn't say anything. He just let me cry until I dried up. Then he wiped my face as if I was a babe again. He just said, "He loves you too, boy," and walked off. I'm not afraid anymore to say that I love you, Mark! Do you hear me? I love you!
Could you send me the picture I took of you? I'll frame it and hang it in my room. I'll have you in my room to keep you nice and warm in my (wet) dreams!
I believe in us!
Sandy
New Bern, August 5, 1968
Dearest Sandy,
I'm better. Your advice really helped me get back in charge of myself. I avoid Dad and he seems to do the same. Is he starting to feel his power doesn't work on me any more? If that's the case, so much the better!
Do you plan to go see your Dad for Thanksgiving? He's so great! I'm not allowed to even step out of the church during the break. I'm stuck here. After school and throughout all the holidays, Dad plans to keep me busy with all kinds of stupid jobs! He says I've got to see how much work is involved in being a minister. He's still counting on me to hear the call of God and become a preacher like my brother! Can you imagine me, a preacher? If I hear the calling of God! He's just telling me, "Stand by Sandy!"
I long to see you so much!
I hope you enjoy the picture album I'm sending here. I was so happy developing them. Made me live again so many of our great moments together!
Tenderly yours,
Mark
Cape Lookout, August 13, 1968
Dearest Mark,
I glad that the storm is passing. Here, there's no storm at all! Calm, flat sea and white hot sky. I get over to Shackleford less. There are more people coming with their outboards. It makes the horses nervous and me too. I can't enjoy getting naked, fearing to offend somebody... or tempt somebody which I absolutely don't want to do. Dad told me to watch out for guys who could be dangerous.
I hate being suspicious but after seeing the horses reaction the other day, driving the drinkers off, I guess Dad's right. The horses sense things we don't sense. Also, there's more work here on Lookout and to be honest, Shackleford without you makes me sad!
I guess you're working a lot too. Enjoy the good side!
What are you reading now?
Gotta run now and give this letter to the boatman before he leaves. He won't be back before Thursday and I don't want you to wait!
Hugs, kisses and -- ha! you know the rest!
Sandy
New Bern, August 18, 1968
Sandy, my love!
Yes, church work keeps me busy. It's just that Reginald Pierce aggravates my nerves. The kids are fine. With the heat we stay inside a lot. I'm glad I don't have to do any of the Bible stuff. I just think up stories to tell and games to play. I'm good at that!
I'm glad you don't expose yourself too much over on Shackleford. With your good looks naked, either people have attacks seeing you, or attack you! The only thing that could push me to killing somebody would be if they hurt you! Thank God, August ends soon and the holiday makers will be gone. The problem is that you'll be gone to! My school starts on the 26th. And yours?
I'll hope for your letter only when you get back to Smithfield. I know that getting mail out of Lookout is a hassle.
Give my best to your Dad -- and go hug Slim and Silver for me too before leaving -- and keep your britches on!
I MISS YOU!
Mark
Smithfield, September 2, 1968
Mark! I need your help!
No! don't get upset, it's just school stuff! Classes began last week and our English teacher gave us, right out, then and there our very first assignment and it is gosh-awful tough! To put things bluntly, I'm scared shitless!
Listen to what she's having us do! We are 19 seniors in her class. She copied nineteen different sonnets by Shakespeare, each one on a separate leaf of paper and put them in a cardboard box. We had to draw a sonnet out of the box and have ten days to analyze, comment and present it to the class. I pulled out Sonnet 116. I tried to read it. My God! That guy doesn't know how to write English! (Of course I'm joking!). Well, everybody in the classroom started sighing, gasping, rolling their eyes to the ceiling. She hit us really hard with that! You talk about tough work! I NEED HELP! You'll find the copy I made of it lower down.
That's for the panic news. The good news is that I went to the library and asked the lady if she could recommend me a not-too-long book about guys on islands. She smiled and said, "Be right back!"
She handed me 'Lord of the Flies' by Golding. Have you read it? I started it last night. Sounds really great!
There's a long kiss for only you right where I'm signing!
Luvya!
Sandy
PS : Shakespeare has something to tell you!
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no; it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
New Bern, September 4, 1968
My dear Sandy,
Your English teacher is a wizard of cruelty and a wonderful teacher getting you all to jump in the deep end of the thinking pool! Of course, I'll help you, but before I start with Shakespeare, I'm thrilled that you've started 'Lord of the Flies'. As you saw, it's a recent book and Golding writes in easy English. The story is terrifying, a real close-up on how war is a part of mankind by using the metaphor of stranded schoolboys on a desert island. Absolutely wonderful book! Your librarian is a very wise woman! You're really lucky!
So to help you as much as I can, I simply rewrote in our kind of English what Shakespeare wrote in his at the time. Just for information, you know how the people over on Ocracoke Island speak what we call High-Tider English. Scholars say that they talk like the people spoke in England in Shakespeare's time. The same brogue is spoken also on Harkers Island and even on the nearby mainland.
Also for information, many scholars admit that Shakespeare dedicated his sonnets to a young handsome nobleman with whom he was in love. You know, like the fellows I told you about in ancient Greece with Plato's Symposium. The sonnets are dedicated to his lover. Shakespeare was crazy about him. We can understand that, can't we?
Here's a 'translation' in modern English of the sonnet you drew :
"I hope I may never acknowledge any reason why minds that truly love each other shouldn't be joined together. Love isn't really love if it changes when it sees the beloved change or if it disappears when the beloved leaves. Oh no, love is a constant and unchanging light that shines on storms without being shaken; it is the star that guides every wandering boat. And like a star, its value is beyond measure, though its height can be measured. Love is not under time's power, though time has the power to destroy rosy lips and cheeks. Love does not change with the passage of brief hours and even weeks, but lasts until the end of time. If I'm wrong about this, and can be proven wrong, I never wrote, and no man ever loved."
Powerful text, Sandy! Shakespeare wrote it for us!
Now for your presentation, just heed your heart, read the translation aloud in front of the class, letting your feelings guide your reading and perhaps just say, "That's the way it is with pure love, because I feel it and know for real that he's right." Your sincerity will do the analyzing ; the emotion in your voice will be the comment. Dare do it. Your teacher must be damn smart to ask you all to get involved in such deep things. She'll understand and congratulate you, I'm sure!
Let me know how it went!
I love you, man!
Mark
Smithfield, September 7, 1968
Mark, my Savior!
I asked to give my presentation ahead of time since I was ready. Our teacher granted me to do it yesterday at the end of the class. So I did it. I looked up some about Shakespeare's life. I found where they talk about Henry Wriothesley (the Earl of Southampton) as the handsome guy he was dedicating his poetry to. I made a brief summary of their relationship and of how the expression of their feelings for each other weren't a problem back then. Then I read, like you said, with my heart, the translation. The class was spellbound and when I said that I know by experience what he's talking about, everybody clapped. I turned around and looked at the teacher sitting at her desk beside me. I swear I could see tears behind her glasses!
She simply said, "Well done Mr. Meherrin. We expect good work from you this year. You've made a brilliant start. Please accept my sincere congratulations."
She stood, walked over and we shook hands. Then she said to the class, "Take note, all of you, that poetry is not an insipid thing. It rips into your hearts, shreds your prejudices and makes you better -- that is if you're capable of letting it happen, like your classmate did here. 'To thyself be true!' that is the lesson for today. Have a pleasant weekend!"
Everybody clapped again. My classmates swarmed up to me telling me how great it was to discover what I said. I'm still a bit overwhelmed myself. Thank you, Mark! Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare! Thank you, angels who gave me the balls to be, as Mrs. Kilpatrick said, true to myself, and I add, true to us!
I finished 'Lord of the Flies'. I'll hand it in Monday and ask for something else. I getting stuck on books too! You're damn contagious, Mark -- and I love it!
Wish you could crawl in bed with me now!
Sandy
New Bern, September 11, 1968
My wonderful Sandy!
I'm thrilled to death about your victory! But after all, I'm not surprised. When we work together, we just don't just add up the results, we multiply the square! Yes, my brilliant lover, all kinds of beauty are contagious to those who, as your English teacher says without saying it like I do, simply have the balls to be open and welcome to it.
As you saw, we had another seasonal hurricane go by yesterday. No great damage here, other than my personal disgust that has nothing to do with the weather. As the winds and rain were raging outdoors, I thought it best to put things up on the tables in our activity room. It's on ground level and in case of flooding it's better to make things safe . Reginald came in and started blathering off about the terrifying weather! It was his first hurricane, the poor, upset thing!
After a little while, the power went off and it was all dim inside. He rushed over and grabbed me, saying he was scared to death. Bullshit! He just wanted to feel me off. He put his hand straight on my cock and balls, telling me how brave and strong I was. I was taken aback to begin with and then, realizing how stupid he could be, I simply kneed him with all my force directely in the crotch. He bent over, moaning as I screamed at him, "Cease that shit immediately! You disgust me. Never touch me again and if I see you mauling our kids any more, I'll turn you in, not only to my Dad but to the police! Got it, Reverend Reginald Pierce?" The wretched wimp just limped out of the room and I finished my job. I was so relieved and happy I even started singing 'Onward Christian soldiers, going as to war!" I heard some of the rednecks around school say that if you grab a pussy, the girl's yours -- I can testify that if you grab balls, you'll get yours smashed!
Getting back to the hurricane, could you get through to your Dad on the phone? I'm worried about the horses!
I wish I could crawl into your bed too! Sometimes I really crave your love! It's going to be a long hard winter, I fear. God bless the U. S. Post Office!
Faithfully,
Mark
Sandy congratulated Mark for rebuking the preacher's stupid initiative. He reassured Mark that things were okay down on the coast. Months passed and the letters became more newsy, more about literature and school life, more philosophical too. If they wrote to each other so much, it's because the time they took for a letter was time spent together. It's often not what's in the letter itself that's important. Importance is in the simple act of penning the letter, putting it in the envelope, writing out the address, licking the stamp and releasing it with a warm smile inside as it falls in the box. But with the spring, urgent news began popping up again!
New Bern, April 17, 1969
My dear Sandy,
I had a big show down with my father concerning college. He has it planned for me to go to the Southeastern Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, after graduation, following the steps of my brother!
I'm torn up! I can't refuse to go and I'd die if I have to! I've got to find something that'll set me free from this father-church-hell! I'm not made for a hypocritical life. With these folks, up front, all is virtue and godliness, but behind, you'd be surprised about all the filth that goes on between these sanctified church rats!
I surprised our organist and my father's secretary, gleefully fucking away in the sanctuary toilets. They were going at it and grunting so hard that they didn't even hear me. I snuck out wanting to puke. Both of them are married -- but not together! And the same people quote the Bible, all high and mighty, NO ADULTERY... My ass! During the Easter holidays, I'm having to help out on the youth recreation program. I'm still stuck with the same despicable creep, Reginald Pierce. The other day, I saw a nine year old coming out of his office, stifling his sobs. He had a hand in his pocket. I could see he was cupping his little dick. The bastard's still at it. I know from experience what's going on in there! One day, I'll break into his office with my camera and make a real stink in the church having him arrested for child abuse! I could go on telling you a lot of other gross stuff, but I'll stop there. It makes me too sick.
I'll keep you posted concerning my escape plans. If you have any ideas to help avoid Wake Forest, they're always welcome!
My love for you is like my trust! Still growing!
Mark
Smithfield, April 24, 1969
Dearest Mark,
I find your letter coming back from a visit to Dad's. Sorry for not answering immediately. I understand how fed up you are. For me, you know I'll never go off to college even if Dad said he's got the money aside to pay for it if I wanted to. I swear that college is definitely not my thing! My thing is to do my thing!
Now I want to tell you about my idea of doing my thing.
I'm working on a project. I'd like to get your opinion. My father thinks it's a really smart idea and he says he's ready to put my college money on the table for it. Grandfather Meherrin's backing me too. He's selling the waterside property he owns just outside of Edenton and said he'd like for me get my cut in the money now while he's alive. My mother doesn't give a damn. All she wants is for me to get out of my room so she can set up a girly room for herself, off limits for her man, with her sewing machine and stuff in it.
So here's what I'm thinking about. I want to have a shad boat built by the Willis family on Harkers Island. You know, it's a flat bottom, shoal draft sloop or schooner they used to haul shad fish in on the sound. A real Carolina boat! They'll give me a good price because they like to work on traditional boats so I hear. With that kind of boat, I'll set up a day excursion business, sailing people around Shackleford. The shad boat I'm thinking about has to be both sail and motor. It's got to look historical, like way back then. People like historical stuff. The Lost Colony, Jamestown, Williamsburg and so on. You know Tryon Palace in your town that was built identical to the original to draw the tourist money. I'll rebuild to the identical, a genuine shad boat under sail, (but with running lights and auxiliary motor) and I'm sure tourist dollars will come my way too. As I told you, more and more tourists and cottage people are coming over to the banks. Not only the usual motorboat slobs but also people who like to take pictures of the horses, learn about the history, the pirates and all that. I know I'd have a lot of passenger-customers. So I thought about using my start-in-life money, as Dad calls it, to invest in my project. I'm sure between Dad and his father we can raise enough and if it's not enough, we can make a deal with the Willis brothers to pay them some at a time. I want to start my thing by Easter of next year. Anyhow, you get the idea.
So now hold on. Here comes THE big question!
Why don't we make it a joint venture, you and me?
Mark Gray, I want you to be my partner.
Tell me what you think about that. My heart and the rest still need you, so why not let's work together too? We won't get rich, but we'll manage and be happy! I learned from you and Thoreau that we don't really need that much stuff... as long as we're happy together!
Also, remember, it's you that got me turned on for sailing so somewhere you're responsible for what I'm gonna do!
I'm dying to read your answer! and, for our angels' sake, make it YES!
Your Sandy
New Bern, April 27, 1969
Sandy, my Savior!
Yes! I say yes, yes and double YES! I nearly peed in my pants from excitement reading over and over your last letter! I can't hug you tight enough!
I'm so glad I asked you to come sail with me the first day we spoke! Changed your life and mine along with it! I accept being responsible!
Your letter has set my head on fire, broken my fetters! I can really see us living ANYWHERE together. In off season we can fish. I can find work too, etc.
HOWEVER, think about this :
I have no money to chip into the partnership.
I have to keep our plans a secret until I'm away from the wrath and hellfire of my father. He's getting really nervous with me. I'm thinking now that the best for me is to simply ran away with you!
Can you send me a drawing or something of the boat you have in mind? Could we manage to live aboard?
KISSES!
Your Mark
Smithfield, April 29, 1969
Dearest Mark,
Great! Don't worry, we'll find a way, I'm sure! I don't know if I really believe in God, but I do believe in our angels! Since we've been together, they've handled our doings damn well up to now. No reason for them to stop. All we've got to do is help them help us!
I forgot to tell you that my Dad sends you his best. While I was there, I talked to him about our partnership. He says he can put us up as long as we need. Also, Silver and Slim are fine! Slim told me he misses you... Silver too. When I went by our campsite, I got all choked up thinking about us. I miss you SO MUCH, MAN!
Concerning money, for me, that's no problem. All we need is for us to live and work together. Who cares where the money comes from! Now if this a problem for you, well then, JUST GET OVER IT!
If I understand, whatever your father does, we'll be together next summer and beyond. Am I correct?
Love you!
Sandy
PS I'm including a Xerox print of the boat I want to have built. There is no cabin, but we can find a place to shack out during the season, and there's always my father's hospitality during the off season. We'll find a way.
PPS Dad's paying for me to have wheels. He says I deserve it because of my grades this year and my graduation. I've found a great little tomato-red Volkswagen bug. As I told you, I'll pick you up the day after school's finished and away we fly!! Well not really. It's impossible to make a Volkswagen do any speeding! Ha! Don't bring too much stuff. There's not much space in the car!
New Bern, May 3, 1969
My dearest Sandy,
The shad boat is BEAUTIFUL!
You understand me perfectly! For the time being, I can't do anything but sweat it out before graduation. It's only one month from now. No use asking my father's permission to leave his church. I'm sure he'd refuse to consider anything like it! He's already told me he wants me to head the kiddy section of the church's summer Bible school with the sleazy ball grabber.
Hark the herald angels scream! "Get your ass out of here" they do sing! I hear them loud and clear! It's decided! I'm getting out, skipping the wall, running away with you!
Please, for God's sake, come and pick me up at 4:30 AM, Saturday, June 7, 1969, the day after graduation. I'll be out front, across the street from the church with just my back pack and a duffel bag looking for you! I'll leave a letter for my folks and that'll be it. My mind is totally made up to leave with you and sail the mighty ocean blue. Well, at least around Shackleford!
As for the money, I'm getting over it! Ha!
And for Dad, once I'm up and out, he'll probably have an attack and then surely disown me. I've even connived a scheme for him to emancipate me! I'll then be saved from the throes of Southern Baptist righteousness and redeemed in the light of our gracious partnership! Wow! That felt really good writing that down!
So, we'll see each other, I repeat!, at 4:30 AM, June 7, 1969. You know the address.
Your Dad's support is a great comfort! I'm going to share his daddy-love with you!
Good God! I can't wait!
Mark
Smithfield, May 5, 1969
Mark,
I'll be there.
Sandy
August 20, 1970
Sixteen months later, here I am, sitting in the boat we now live in, filling in the last pages of my Shackleford journal. I read once more Sandy's last letter, dated May 5, 1969.
"I'll be there," was all he wrote!
The most important sentences in life often have only three words like, I love you ; I'll be there ; Yes, I do ; Come with me -- I could go on and on.
So much has happened over the year!
I crept out of the parsonage, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. It was long before dawn, June 7, 1969. When I got outside, I saw the bug already waiting for me. Sandy blinked the headlights. I ran, tossed my bags on the back seat and jumped in up front. We bumped heads as we threw ourselves on each other, kissing and crying like what we were, pilgrims of love, bound for freedom!
Once we were on the road, Sandy asked about what I had written in the letter I'd just left for my parents on my bed. I knew the letter by heart. I still have the carbon copy. I told him just like I wrote it.
"Dear Mother, dear Father,
When you find this letter, I'll be gone for good. I've left with my friend Sandy to live and work together. We love each other.
Yes, Father, I'm homosexual. For your reputation, you have to emancipate me and leave me alone. If you don't, I'll write to every church member (I have the addresses) telling them about the organist and your secretary screwing whenever they get a chance, about Reginald Pierce playing with kids' penises and asses, about two teenage abortions of my knowledge concerning adult, church-going married fathers getting them pregnant. I'll tell them about some things concerning the racist organizations you're politically involved in, not to mention your cheating on taxes. There's a lot I know about concerning your congregation, and if I have to, I'll give names, dates and circumstances. I've got proof. If I'm not left alone, the bubble will burst and the church fairytale will become a nightmare in the glaring light of truth. Sorry, Mom, if I wake you up, but it had to come out sometime!
Yes, this is blackmail! So what? I'm not worse than most of you all are. Please don't me make spend money for the stamps and blast your whole congregation to Armageddon with the truth-bomb I got in hand! I can refrain from shattering your business if you emancipate me. That's all I'm asking. I'll let you try to find an excuse for my no longer being around.
You can send the emancipation papers to the following address : Mark Gray, General Delivery, Harkers Island, NC and don't try to find me there. Stay far off limits, or...
I aspire to live a free life of truth, authentic love and genuine redemption from the hypocritical existence in which I have been intoxicated. It'll take me some time to sweat it all out of my system, but I'm sure I'll succeed! With love, and not only righteousness, all is possible!
As the good believing Baptist that you are, Dad, I know that I am already forgiven as your heart sets me free. For you, Mom, again, I'm sorry -- but I know deep down, you understand me.
signed Mark"
Sandy swallowed, took a minute or two to react and then said, "For being clear, that's clear! But just one question. What's Armageddon?"
"It's in the Bible. It means the end of the world!"
"Well, I guess that does have to be avoided then! Man you've really got BALLS!"
"They're all for you, Sandy! All for you!"
Once we were back in the Meherrin home on Cape Lookout, we stayed in Sandy's room making love nearly non-stop until lunch the following day. We didn't have to make any coming out with Theodore. He just took me in with his son and even admitted to both of us that he had walked on the wild side some himself -- which, as he revealed, was one of the reasons Sandy's mother flew the coop. He promised us all his support. We rowed over to Shackleford. Silver and Slim still recognized us! We even stripped and rode for hours.
Sandy's grandfather came over for a visit, but above all to see and talk with Sandy and me. We had only been there four days, when he showed up. He's a very alert, smiling gentlemen, just as open and caring as his son, Theodore. It was cool seeing the three generations of the Meherrins at the same table.
After dinner, we went out on the porch. Grandfather Meherrin said he wanted a word with me. He sat down in one of the chairs on the porch and pointed to the other saying, "Have a seat, Mark and listen to me real good. You're a fine young man. I can see it in your eyes and I'm sure my Sandy over there wouldn't love an ordinary guy like he loves you. I feel I can trust you."
"Thank you, Sir."
Sandy had come outside too and was sitting on the steps looking at the sunset. I could sense that he was listening and letting me benefit from all of his grandfather's attention. Theodore came out too. He quietly walked over and sat down beside his son. They snuggled up close as Theodore placed his arm over Sandy's shoulder. Mr. Meherrin, Senior, was still thinking about what he needed to say. Then he spoke up.
"We Tuscarora Indians know that there are boys who are born with love for girls and others, usually of finer stock, love for other boys. Some for both... The Great Spirit knew what He was doing when he created us all as brothers and yet made each of us different. He knew what He was doing when he lit the fire in you two the moment you met. He trusts you both to be good to each other, to be good for each other and to be good for us all. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Sir. I do."
"If Sandy got the idea of building a boat, it's because of you. With you, he found a way to share his love of nature with others. The Great Spirit knew that he had to find it by having you two get together in love. You accepted to leave everything and everybody to stand by him. He trusts you."
"And I trust him, Sir. He's all my life!"
"No, he's not all your life, boy! He's the part of your life that makes you more yourself!
Other than the joys of -- how can I put it, of arousing and sharing your juices and obeying the drive of your true nature, a deeper love has been put in you to make you more the way you were meant to be. We all have that deeper love hidden inside. Not everybody finds it. You did! Now you've got to live up to it! Put that in your pretty young head! Now with that being clear, we have to remember that deep love needs both peace and simplicity, and above all it needs FREEDOM! So now listen to what I've decided for you and Sandy. And you, Theodore, Sandy, come over here."
Theodore and Sandy looked over, rose, and came to sit at Grandfather Meherrin's feet. I slipped down and sat with them.
"Fine. Now, Theodore, you're going to pay for their work-boat, the one you showed me the picture of just a while ago. You've got the money set aside and if you don't have it, then you just do what you got to do to get it. Judging from the picture of the boat, it's not that expensive. Am I clear, son?"
"Very clear, Dad."
"Now, since I got more money than I know what to do with after selling my gator infested waterfront property over in Edenton -- I don't understand what those white people see in that worthless place -- Anyway, who cares? I got their cash and a lot of it too and that's fine for us all! Some of that money's put aside for you two, fine young fellows too. I said that you both need to be in peace and free for your love to work for us all. So I've decided to pay for you to have another boat built, identical to the first one, but with a cabin on it so you can live aboard in peace. That way, you'll need no house, in some stupid neighborhood, no people minding your business, medling in your lifestyle. You won't be threatened by anybody and you can be free to go and set up your work anywhere there's water you can sail on. So there isn't just one boat we're gonna have built but two! Theodore, you set them up in business and I give them shelter.
Since the two boats are might near the same, it won't be really that expensive to double them up. The two can be built at the same time with the same parts and pieces, sails, motors and all. Two bodies, one soul, like our boys there. Now boys, along with Theodore, you better get a good deal with those Willis fellows over on Harkers Island. I'll come back every now and then to check on things and Theodore, I'll send you a check as soon as you tell me how much the boat I'm paying for costs. There. I have spoken. Have I been understood?"
Theodore stood and said, "Yes, Dad. Stars shine in your crazy, wonderful mind!"
"Oh, shut up son! And you, boys. What do you say?"
I looked at Sandy who was looking at me and we both stuttered at the same time, "Thank you, Sir!"
"Well you boys go and give each other a big hug while I go in with my son and open us a bottle of my wine to make a toast and celebrate!"
The two men left. We were alone on the porch. Sandy and I were like stunned. We threw ourselves on each other, kissing and weeping for joy at the same time.
"I can't believe it Sandy! Do you?"
"I believe it because if Granddaddy thinks we're worth it, then we are. Granddaddy has spoken. So let it be!"
Grandfather Meherrin shouted from inside, "That's enough hugging! You fellows coming in or not? Your young, sweet carrying-on is gonna make the mosquitos swarm! Don't want them to drain your blood out! Get in here right now!"
We obeyed and all four us celebrated. For Sandy and me, we carried on celebrating, lights out, rollicking in bed, late into the night, thanking our angels, quenching them with our overflowing offerings.
We made a perfect deal with the Willis boatworks. They loved the idea of building twins. They could start on both boats by the following month. They knew all there was to know about shad boats and didn't need plans or anything. They're really excited about bringing the shad boat back to life on the sound! Old man Willis even proposed to take us on as apprentices. There's a program run by the state for that. We worked and learned from the shipwrights and were put up in a vacant garage apartment they rent out in the summer. They also lent us an old fishing boat to go back and forth to Cape Lookout and Shackleford on. We had all that up until the boats were finished. The state apprenticeship program gave us money enough to cover our grocery bill. Couldn't hope for better!
My father replied disowning me. At the same time, he sent me the emancipation papers as I requested. The judgment was pronounced without any problem. When it came time to go to the courthouse for the signatures, it was Dad who swallowed the snake that time! I never turned back and think I never will!
Our boats are an absolute marvel. All the guys at the boatworks were crazy about them! They're gaff-rigged, flat-bottom, shoal-draft sloops with a bowsprit for the jib. They have modern plywood-epoxy hulls. All of the trimmings and deck coverings are of juniper and red cedar. They're thirty-six feet long, not counting the bowsprit. Both have the same auxiliary motors all the fishermen use here. It's important for emergencies, port maneuvers and dead calm.
The work boat has a long open cockpit boarded inside by lateral benches with storage beneath and a toilet just behind the mast. There's sitting space before the mast for those who like to get drenched by the spray underway! Ha! We're authorized to be a maximum of eight people aboard and we have to stay within five nautical miles from sheltered waters. On our home boat, we have a wonderful cabin, perfect for our love of simplicity. We even installed a little wood stove for the winter.
We baptized our boats TIDERIDER 1, that's the work boat, and TIDERIDER 2, that's home. I love the name. It was Sandy's idea! Sounds just like him! We had a big party for their launching last November. Granddaddy Meherrin was the star of the event!
We have a great berth on Harkers Island for Tidewater 1. The guys at Willis's really appreciated Sandy's skill. I must admit, he's much better than me for woodworking and mechanics. They said Sandy could stay on and work for pay. From November until April, Sandy worked on with them four days a week. We sail the Tideriders over the weekends around Shackleford, getting used to the boats, learning all the channels, shoals and such. During the week, while Sandy worked, I handled advertising, authorizations, insurance -- well everything to start the season. I swung a great deal with the lady who owns and runs the local motel, restaurant and fishing center with ample parking space up front. She agreed to grant us the end of her pier for our departures and handled all our reservations, information on the phone, sold boxed picnic lunches to our passengers. For all that, she did the ticketing, cashed the credit cards and gave us eighty percent of each ticket sold. It's good for both our businesses. That way, no bank, no hassle, no paperwork, we just have to pay taxes on the boats and on what we earn. Simple!
As scheduled, Sandy left the boatworks, knowing that he would be welcome to come back in the off season as much as possible. We put up a very elegant signpost and bench for our passengers on the departure pier, wore our uniforms of white tank tops and bermudas and left with our first excursionists on Easter Sunday of 1970. According to the weather and the tides, we mostly do the tour of Shackleford Island, six days a week. Otherwise we have alternative tours in mind as well as a second cruise on Saturday night for lovers at the end of the season. Sandy wants us to put a cassette player onboard for some romantic atmosphere music. I don't agree. So, we'll probably have music one Saturday out of two!
I found out that it's sometimes hard to stay calm when there's a problem person onboard and there's at least one if not two a week, mostly the ones who like to show their money. There was this one lady who wanted to pay for her poodle to come along too. I said no dogs. She had a fit! But the rules are the rules. There was also a whole family who refused to get on the boat because there was a Negro couple onboard. They wanted to be refunded! I told them, no refund! If the other passengers don't suit them, it's their problem, not ours. It was really embarrassing! Being all nice and smiles and firm at the same time can be tiring but I'm getting used to it. Most of our passengers are courteous, appreciative and -- and simply great! Sandy says I do a good job with relations. He lets me handle the hosting while he's at the tiller -- Well not all the time, but still...
Shackleford is never far away. When the summer season's over and before Sandy goes back to work, we'll get in a good visit with Theodore, and spend another two weeks, just the two of us, anchored over on our island! Later, in mid-winter, while Sandy's working at the boatworks, I'll be taking care of both Tideriders, preparing our next season.
We are still the happiest guys on earth. Everybody says we look so good together! Of that I'm sure! We're like Silver and Slim, whatever the tempest, we're still frolicking. Angels live on love. I'm sure ours are thriving!
A free picture album illustrating this story (pdf) is available upon request at marin.giustinian@laposte.net.