Date: Sat, 8 Nov 2003 07:16:24 -0800 (PST)
From: Waddie Greywolf <waddiebear@yahoo.com>
Subject: "My Brother's Keeper"

This is a short story that deals with the subject of the "right of passage"
between a father and his son.  It also is a story about cryptozoology and
asks the question, "What if....?"  There is no sex in this story; however,
there is some language about homosexual relationships.  If reading about
such things upsets you, please don't read further.  If you read this story
you must be at least eighteen years or older. The author assumes no
responsibility if you don't meet the age limit criterion.

Copyright 2003 ~ Waddie Greywolf
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com

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My Brother's Keeper
By Waddie Greywolf
                                     

My dad lived a pretty ordinary life with one exception.  He was a Vietnam
veteran and struggled for years with post traumatic stress syndrome. He
spent years trying to exorcize ghosts from his past.  Ghosts who would come
to him even in broad daylight and then disturb his rest at night with their
unrest. He never seemed to stay ahead of them but he never gave up the
fight. He worked hard at trying to find some resolution but the mental
scars were too deep. His physical scars were a painful reminder as well.

While I was growing up, I can remember he was always under VA care. He took
his medications regularly. They gave him little relief but they were better
than nothing.  All he wanted was to be left alone to try and heal.  He
never wanted a lot of 'things' out of life and taught me the greatest joy
in life is just to love and be loved in return.  He taught me that
happiness was worth more than all the wealth and possessions in the world.
He only wanted to be comfortable, provide a good life for his family and
find his own modicum of happiness.

When he returned from Nam he thought he could outrun his past.  He bought a
big Harley and hit the road.  He traveled with some of the roughest men in
the biker world.  He also learned to travel with the best.  They were men
who didn't judge. They asked no questions as long as you were forthright,
honest and contributed your share to the group.  Still it wasn't enough to
escape the years he spent in that rotten, stinking hell hole of a rice
patty.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I had an unusual relationship with my dad.  I always loved, admired and
respected my dad while most of my school buddies hated their dads.  They
were constantly getting into trouble and at odds with their fathers.  I
guess I got a reputation of being a goody-goody because I always thought
about the consequences of some action I was about to consider and how it
might affect my mom and dad.  The idea of hurting them or being a
disappointment to my dad kept me on the straight and narrow.  I figured my
dad had seen enough horror, pain, and sorrow in his life he didn't need me
to add to that burden.

Dad never encouraged me to play sports but I did.  Most of all, I played
because I genuinely love to; however, that wasn't the real payoff.  My
greatest joy came from the look my dad gave me after I played a good game.
He'd put his big arm around me, pull me close and tell me,

"Ya' done good, Son.  Real good!  S'damn proud of ya'---." Often he'd wipe
away a tear. Well, Sir,---you could've given me all the trophies or awards
in the world and none would've meant as much to me as those moments with my
dad.

I loved to get away with my dad and go someplace we'd never been
before. Sometimes we'd take the old motorcoach on a weekend trip; just the
two of us; go fishing or just to see what we could find of interest to do.
We'd go to a rodeo, a monster truck rally, or a tractor pull somewhere;
something interesting to do several weekends a year.  We both looked
forward to those times together. We grew really close over the years and I
could tell my old man anything.
 
He not only was my old man, he became my best friend. I could tell him the
secrets of my heart and he would listen. Nothing I could've told him would
upset him or ever kept him from loving me.  I knew that in my heart; but
still, there was something missing between us. There was something about
his past, a major part of him, he would never talk to me about. Vietnam was
always there, looming in the background like a darkly cloaked stranger
waiting to devour him.  I could never go there with him. As much as he
loved me I couldn't offer him comfort from his pain. The times I tried his
eyes would water and he would quietly tell me,

"One time, before I die, I'll tell you.  I can only tell you once.  Don't
ask me why because you'll understand when I tell you."

I thought it all sounded very vague and mysterious but my mom backed him up
when I asked her about it.

"If your dad told you he'd tell you, he will in his own time.  You can't
force that man. Take it from me.  Lord knows, I learned the hard way.  He's
a good man and he loves us like no other.  He's proved his love to me, you
and your sister over and over.  I'm lucky to have found him for a husband
and you're just as lucky to have him as your father. He's a complex man but
he's not complicated.  He has a right not to talk about his past. You'll
understand one day, trust me."  And that's all she would say on the matter.

They had two children, me and my older sister Joyce.  Dad named me after
him; Jessie Benjamin Cassidy, Jr.  Mom told me dad's folks go back to the
same Cassidys as Butch Cassidy.  Some even say my dad looks a lot like old
photos of him. There's another side of our family I've never met. I've
overheard dad and mom speak of them from time to time but it was always
away from us kids like they didn't want us to know.  I guess every family
has some part they'd rather the rest of the world not know about.  Dad
wasn't to fond of the idea that one of his ancestors was an outlaw.

I never was called Jess, Jessie or Ben.  From the earliest I can remember
my dad called me 'Grub.'  Hardly anyone in our small town new my real name
or even that I was a 'junior.'  I was 'Grub' to everyone.  I didn't mind.
I grew up with the name and it was the name my old man liked to call me.
It made me feel good every time my dad called me that. It was his special
name for me. My mom would slip when she was mad at me and call me by my
real name.  It was about the only time I heard it.

"Jessie Benjamin Cassidy, Junior, I won't have you using language like that
in my house, young man!"

"Yes, Ma'am.  Sorry, Mom."

Even when I graduated from high school and they called my name for my
diploma; "Grub Cassidy."

I asked Dad one time why he called me 'Grub' and he got the strangest, far
away look on his face followed by a sweet smile and told me,

"One day, perhaps, I'll take you to meet your namesake."

Dad was raised to be a cowboy on a ranch in West Texas but after he
returned from Vietnam he found it almost impossible to fit back into
society.  He bought a big bike and toured the country for several years
until he met my mom and settled down with her. They decided to buy a ranch
in a small town outside of San Diego about twenty miles.  He would never
talk to me about the four years he spent in Nam and only a few stories of
his eight years being a nomad biker.  Every now and then one of his old
biker buddies would drop in and dad would treat them like visiting
royalty. They would toss back a few and talk about some wild times.  I
could tell from the stories and the way my dad and his buddies would tell
them they had some good times.

My dad never was a bad man and stayed within the law; although, I picked up
enough from a couple of the bikers to learn he had ridden with some pretty
rough men during his sojourn into the world of scoot bums. None of them
ever had a bad word to say about my dad.  They would get me off to the side
and tell me what love, admiration and respect they held for my old man.
With tears in their eyes they would hug me and tell me how proud I should
be to have that man for a dad. After they left, dad would never talk more
about his life as a biker.  Certainly any conversation about Vietnam was
strictly 'off limits.'  I remember one of the bikers bringing it up and my
dad hushed him up real quick.  The man did so immediately in respect for my
dad and his family.

One time we were sitting around the table listening to an older, grizzled,
battle scarred, tattooed biker tell a story about a time when he and dad
walked into the north woods looking for firewood for their camp and
accidently came upon a family of Bigfoot. He didn't tell much more except
the Bigfoot family was as surprised they were; then, he and dad high-tailed
it out of there.  I laughed and challenged my dad and the old man.

"That's a good one.  Everyone knows there ain't no such thing as a
Bigfoot."

"Isn't such a thing, Dear,..."  My mom was quick to correct me.  My dad
smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"Wouldn't be too sure of that, Son."  Dad paused for a minute and winked at
his buddy, "If this man tells you we saw a family of Bigfoot you can cash
that check at the bank."  It's all my dad said and he wouldn't answer any
questions I had later.

* * * * * * * * *

My sister Joyce was four years older than I and she graduated college the
year I graduated high school.  I wasn't the only one who got a nickname
from my dad.  He called Joyce, 'Sissy' short for sister, -and it stuck with
her until she went to college.  Everyone in our small town knew us as
'Sissy and 'Grub' Cassidy.  She didn't care either and worshiped my dad.
No matter how bad he felt or how tired he was from working all day and
trying to run a ranch, he had time for us kids. He'd stop anything he was
doing if we needed him.  He never put us aside with an excuse.  His arms
were always open to hear the least or the worst of our problems.

It was also the summer my dad and mom planned for many years.  When they
felt dad was financially able he would quit his daytime job and run the
ranch full time.  It seemed all our lives converged and changed that
summer, but it was a happy time for the four of us.  We had never been
closer as a family.  Joyce got a good job in our small town and decided to
live at home for a while.  She was a big help and companion for mom.  To my
sister's credit she insisted on paying her way and sharing our mother's
load around the place.

I didn't have plans to go to college right away and wanted to stay home a
couple of years to help dad with some major projects.  I wanted to make
things as easy for him as possible when I finally left the nest. I was
involved with ranch work since I was old enough to walk and it became a way
of life for me.  By the time I got to school and started my first class I
had put in almost a full days work.  Living on a ranch is wonderful but
it's one hell of a lot of work.  The problem is, you're never through.
There's always something else that needs to be done.  Nevertheless, it
taught me anything worth having is worth working for; also, it taught me to
always protect and respect the animals under your care.

We grew really close as a family that summer but there was something not
right with my dad.  My mom had the patience of Job and never pushed him;
but, she knew him well enough she could tell what was bothering him.  We'd
been working hard all summer and got a lot of things done around the place
but it seemed the more we got done the less happy dad was.  He never was
grumpy or mean spirited.  It was like a giant sadness would come over him
and for all his medications he couldn't shake it.  I over heard a
conversation one evening between dad and mom I wasn't suppose to be privy
to.  They were in the barn and I had walked out to let them know Sissy and
I had dinner ready.  I stopped for a minute. I knew they didn't hear me
approach the barn.  I listened for a moment not wanting to interrupt their
conversation.  There was a break and mom was silent.

"We both know what's wrong, Jessie. Why don't you take Grub and introduce
him to the family? Get away,--- just the two of you.  I know how happy
being with him makes you. Every time you two go on a trip together you both
come back new men.  You're both revitalized.  It does as much for Grub as
it does for you.  That kid worships you.  You may never have another
opportunity like this to open up to him, Jessie, and he needs to know.
He's been a good son to us and he's worked his butt off around here. He
hasn't asked for a thing.  He hasn't said a word but I know he's hurting
because you're hurting. He's like me. He feels your pain but unlike me he
has no idea what it is or how to help you.  It's eating him up,
Jessie. Don't do that to our boy.

Now's a perfect time, before the cold weather sets in up there. You haven't
been back since you took me and introduced me to the family. That was years
ago when I was pregnant with Sissy.  I know they'd love to see you and meet
Grub. You made a promise to them.  He looks just like you, Jessie, and I
know how proud of him you are. Go!  I've got Sissy here to keep me company
and we can manage the ranch just fine.  If I need help I can always call
your dad.  He'll be here in a minute."

They were quiet but dad didn't answer her.  I cleared my throat and
continued on into the barn.  I found dad hugging and kissing mom.  Dad had
tears in his eyes.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, Son, we're just talking. What's up?" dad asked.

"Dinner's ready."

"Come, we'll walk back to the house with you."  he offered.

Dad put his arm around mom, his other around me and we started back to the
house.

"What da' ya' say, Sprout, you and me pack up the old GMC motorcoach and
take off for a couple of weeks?  We'll load up on basics, throw the fishing
tackle in the extra bedroom and go.  We won't schedule anything.  We'll
stop when we're tired or see something that interests us."

"Sounds great to me, Dad, but what about the ranch?"


"Your mom and Sissy will be here and I'll call dad.  He'd love to come stay
for a while and get away from his place.  Besides, he loves your mom's
cooking.  He and Barney (Granddad's dog) love it over here."

"Great.  I'll start packing right after dinner."

We had a wonderful dinner and dad's attitude changed immediately.  He was
up, smiling and talking about places we might go and things we might see.
Mom and Sissy were happy for him and me and joined in the merriment.  The
next day dad and mom went off to the big Costco warehouse to do some
shopping and after my chores I spent the rest of the day putting my things
away in the motorcoach.

When they returned dad asked me to give him a hand with some boxes of stuff
he wanted to store in the spare bedroom of the coach.  It had always been
Sissy and my room when we traveled as a family.  I helped him unload six
cases of Skippy Super Chunk peanut butter and one case of huge jars of
grape jelly.  There was another case of strawberry preserves.  We had a
small freezer unit and dad and I put in a lot of frozen dinners and meat we
could cook on our journey.  The rest we filled with many loves of wheat and
some white bread.  More bread than we would ever eat.

Mom and Sissy spent two days cooking and baking so we'd have cookies and
cake and several pies that could be frozen and quickly thawed.  We had a
huge microwave/convection oven in the motorcoach.  I noticed a beautiful
chocolate cake neatly wrapped for the freezer with a note in mom's
handwriting: "For the folks." I didn't ask.  I never saw dad pack so much
stuff for our family let alone for just the two of us.  I laughed.

"You sure you got enough peanut butter and jelly, Dad?"

"Oh, yeah!  I guess it does seem like a lot but we got one hell of a price
on it. It pays in the long run to buy in volume.  It has a long shelf life
and you never know when you might have a midnight craving for a peanut
butter and jelly sandwich.  Beside, it's always nice to have extra in case
you entertain."

I couldn't imagine us entertaining but dad would run into folks he hadn't
seen for years and it was like they hadn't been apart for more than thirty
minutes.  My dad was that kind of man.  He never met a man he couldn't find
something good about.  He seemed to treasure his memories of their times
together.  So, I just never knew about my dad and as it turned out the
first night we were on the road we ran into about fifteen bikers who were
his close friends.  One of them was the big, burly, old biker who told the
story about dad and him running across a family of Bigfoot.

"You takin' your boy to the north woods to visit Al and Frank?"

"Yeah, Beryl. Been thinkin' about it.  I thought I might."

"Well, it's about time.  Them and the other folks around there have been
asking about you.  Hell, they always ask about you.  I told 'em all about
you and your family."

"You seen them lately?"  Dad asked surprised.

"Oh, hell, yeah!  I visited Al and Frank about this time last year. All the
old gang is still around there and I know they'd love to see you again;
especially to meet Grub junior.  Talk about killing the fatted calf. You
packing any presents?"  I heard Big Beryl lean into my dad to ask in a low
tone.

"Six cases of super chunk peanut butter; one case of grape jelly; one of
strawberry preserves and about two dozen loaves of bread."  Replied my dad
equally as quietly.  I pretended not to hear. Big Beryl shook his head and
chuckled as he gently nudged my dad with his huge elbow.

"That ought a' do it!"  he continued to laugh and slapped my dad on the
back.  "Mind if I join ya'll up there.  I got something to do with the
family, here, first but depending on your schedule I can meet you at Al and
Frank's in a week or so.  I better meet you someplace else first because
word travels fast in that small place.  After your first night, I'd never
find you guys."  I never saw my dad laugh like he did with old Beryl.  He
threw back his head and really let go.  It was good to hear my old man
laugh.

"Good point, Beryl.  Why don't we meet in Centerville and you can follow us
up.  It's only,-- what,---an hours drive to Al and Frank's?"

"'Bout that, I'd say." replied Big Beryl, "I'll look for you in the RV
campground and if'n you ain't there yet look for me at "Rosey's Bar and
Grill" downtown.  What say we meet there ten days from today?  That'll give
you and the boy a chance to take a leisurely trip up and me a chance to
take care of what I have to do."

"Fine, ten days it is.  Look forward to seeing you again."

We stayed the night in the camp site outside of Barstow with the bikers,
said our goodbyes the next morning and headed out to Las Vegas with the
early morning sunrise.  I'd never seen my dad in such a good mood.  His
love for me was always solid but when we were by ourselves and traveling he
radiated love toward me from every pore in his body.  In all our years
together as father and son I never felt more close to him. I felt like he
and I were on a quest together to find the holy grail. He was a knight in
shining armor who knew the where and why of the sacred vessel and I was his
faithful page. I decided not to question but to ride along and support my
Sir Knight into any battle he saw fit for us to wage. It was my way of
showing my dad how much I trusted him.  It didn't matter to me where or
what we would be doing as long as we were together.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Dad and I spent a couple of nights with friends in the suburbs of Las
Vegas.  They took us to dinner and gambling with them. Dad gave me a
hundred bucks to gamble on and told me to make it last the night.  If I
lost it the first ten minutes I was there, that was it. He never asked
anything of me he didn't do himself and I knew he set himself a hundred
dollar limit.  I did better than him.  I won heavily at blackjack.  I ran
my hundred into a couple of thousand and the men of the casino were getting
nervous I was a card counter or figured out how to beat the system.  I
wasn't and didn't.  I was just in a great mood and I was winning.  Dad was
agog.  He broke even but laughingly told me he would never tell me again
about gambling.

We had a wonderful time in Vegas but then headed up to Reno and stayed with
some folks who were old biker friends of dads. They rolled out the red
carpet for us, took us to dinner and some shows.  It was all exciting and
fun but I was really looking forward to getting away with dad into the
wilderness. Granddad always told me to be careful what you wish for, you
just may get it.

We finally arrived in Washington state and rode into the small town of
Centerville.  It was really small.  There was one bar and grill, two
filling stations, a post office, two grocery stores and a old fashioned,
wooden floor, drug store with big apothecary jars in the window filled with
different colored water.  When we pulled into the RV camp ground dad looked
down the main street and saw Big Beryl's bike parked in front of the bar
and grill.  He told me to jump out and run get Beryl while he checked into
the space rental office, got us settled and hooked up.

It was a beautiful warm day in Washington.  I took my time enjoying the
small town sights as I walked toward Rosey's Bar and Grill.  It was dark
inside and I had to wait for a minute for my eyes to adjust before I could
see enough to look for Beryl.  I didn't have to because out of the dim
light came two enormous arms that swept me off my feet into a big bear hug.

"Is that young man old enough?"  the woman behind the bar hollered to
Beryl.

"He's old enough for anything you have in mind, Rosey, I guaran-damn-tee-
ya'!"  Big Beryl growled at the woman. "What chu' drinking, Son?"

"Oh, I ain't much of a drinker, Mr. Beryl.  A Coke with some ice would be
just fine."

"Give my young friend a Coke, Rosey."  Beryl barked as he pushed his money
on the bar to her.

She smiled and gave me my Coke and took the money from in front of Big
Beryl.  She turned towards the cash register and then turned back.

"Damned if he ain't the spittin' image of your buddy who use to travel with
you years ago.  What was his name?  The big cowboy, Jess or Jessie
Cassidy?"  Big Beryl patted me on the back and roared with laughter.

"You wanna' tell her or you want me to?"

"He's my dad, Ma'am. I'm Jessie Cassidy Junior but everybody calls me
'Grub.' He's down to the RV campground parking our motorcoach.  He sent me
to fetch Mr. Beryl."

"Well, son of a bitch," she drawled, "get chur' sweet, young ass down here
to the end of the bar so's I can give you a hug proper like."  Big Beryl
was laughing his ass off but winked at me and motioned for me to go to her.
I did and she gave me one hell of a hug.  I couldn't breathe for a couple
of minutes.  She laughed and kissed me on the cheek.

"I use to have the damnest crush on your dad.  Lordy, was he a fine looking
man!  Every woman in these here parts was a' trying to get into his
nickers.  He'd come strolling into the bar, tall, good look'n cowboy and
fifteen women sittin' at the bar would wet their panties."  She laughed at
her revelation to me and laughed harder when she saw me blush.

"And you know what, Youngster?  I do declare, you're even better looking
than him!"  Then she really hooted as I turned beet red.

"Well, now you just sit your ass down there next to that big, ugly, old man
and tell me a little about yourself.  Don't you two try to make for the
door.  I'll break both your legs.  Your old man will figure out he has to
come get you and Beryl.  I'll treat you three to dinner right here. I still
got a soft spot in my heart for your old man and you,----why, I'd have a
tasty, young morsel like you for dessert."  Rosey threw back her head with
laughter having a really great time at my expense.

I loved her immediately. She was a character. Beryl was laughing his ass
off.  He had to stand up to get his breath he was laughing so hard at
Rosey.  Time passed and I told Rosey all about my mom and sister. I told
her about graduating from highschool and helping dad with the ranch.  Just
when I was about to run out of things to tell her, dad walked through the
door. He stood for a minute for his eyes to adjust and found Rosey's arms
thrown around him in a big hug.  They shared a laugh, a couple of tears, a
good hug and a peck on the cheek.

"S'damn good to see you again, Jess. I threatened them two varmints at the
bar I was gonna' break both their legs if they tried to make for the
door. I knew you'd come on down here. You wouldn't come to town and not
come see Rosey."

"You're right on all accounts, Sweetheart.  You don't know how good it is
to see you, too, Lady Fair."

"You always was the charmer, Jess, but my Lord, what you and your lovely
wife created in this young man is remarkable. You couldn't a' made him no
finer looking.  I been making the poor lad blush ever' five minutes.  Come
sit down, relax, have a drink!  I'm treating you men to a dinner at
Rosey's.  Fine T-bone steaks with all the trimmings."

"Ah, Rosey, you're such a love. You haven't changed a bit.  I was worried
maybe you had but it does my old heart good to see you're still full of
yourself."  We all laughed at my dad's words of affection for Rosey. We had
a great time with her. She joined us for dinner and let the evening
bartender take over. She had two waitresses who waited on us. It was a
great meal and the company was fantastic. I learned more about my dad that
evening than I ever knew.  I also watched him respond and interrelate with
his peers in front of me not as my dad but as a beloved companion. In
essence I felt myself becoming as Beryl and Rosey, one of his close
buddies.

Something changed between us that night. When dad excused himself and went
to the men's room I asked Big Beryl about it. I expressed to him and Rosey
my feelings. I had a glass of red wine with dinner and it made my tongue a
little loose.

"You think this trip is just for you, Son?"  Beryl patiently asked.  Rosey
smiled and shook her head.  She must have been on the same wavelength as
Big Beryl.

"Well, I'm not sure, Sir.  I never know about my dad.  I love him and I
know he loves me but I'm frustrated because he won't let me know certain
parts of him.  I feel like maybe I'm not good enough to share those things
with him.  He can be mysterious sometimes."

"Indeed he can but don't you never feel your dad don't think you're good
enough. Why, I rode with your old man for over a year before I knew a damn
thing about him. Now, I know your old man like the back of my hand.  I can
almost read his mind.  I swear he can read mine. About this trip;--- it
serves a couple of purposes.  It's your dad's way of giving you a right of
passage into manhood; however, before he can do that he has to let go of
his little boy.  This trip is to let you go; this trip is to say goodbye to
his little boy and to welcome his son into his world as an adult; as his
friend, his new buddy in his life. In a way, it's ripping his Goddamn heart
out knowing he has to let his little boy grow up. No father ever wants to
see that day come; especially, Jess. He feels deeper about things than most
folks.  Am I right so far, Rosey?"

"Dead on, Sweetheart, dead on.  You have to keep a part of you back for
him, Son, that will always be his little boy and not be afraid.  You have
to let him know that even though you're now an adult there will always be a
part of you that will still be his little boy.  No matter how old or
successful you get you'll always need him as your dad."

"Exactly,---well put, Darlin,' you're his world, Grub. This trip is all
about letting you grow up and to do that he has to take you to meet some
folks who are very special to him. Don't try to second guess him, Son.
Just trust your dad and don't fear anything that may happen. Your dad would
die before he placed you in harm's way. You're going to learn some things
this week that will open that door that's been closed to you for so long.
Don't allow it to overwhelm you. Take it moment by moment and try your best
to understand. Now, here comes your old man.  Not a word about what was
discussed here, understand?"

"Yes, Sir.  I understand and thanks, Mr. Beryl;---Ms. Rosey."

It was a wonderful evening and I had a second glass of wine that made me
feel even closer to my dad.  I kept quiet and let the three of them talk.
I would ask a question from time to time until my eyes began to not want to
stay open. Next thing I knew I was leaning on my dad's shoulder trying to
listen but my eyes just wouldn't cooperate.

"You better get him to a bed, Jess.  He's had a big day. I don't think he
was ready for me."  Rosey laughed.

"How can we ever thank you for your kindness and generosity, Rose?  It's
been a lovely evening."

"You're company was payment enough.  You know you and Beryl have always
been my favorites and to get a chance to meet another charmer like you,
well,---I don't get blessed that often. You and Beryl taking him to meet
the folks?"

"That's where we're headed next."

"Drop by before you leave town tomorrow.  I've got something for them I
want you to take with you.  Tell 'em it's from me, okay? They ain't been
down this way in a couple of years. They always stop by when they do,
though."

Dad and Beryl left a handsome tip for the two waitresses.  Dad woke me and
told me it was time to walk back to the coach. I hugged and kissed Rosey
and the two waitress goodbye and apologized for being a cheap drunk.  They
laughed. I wasn't really drunk but I sure was relaxed.  Dad had me get on
behind Big Beryl and told him he'd meet us back at the coach. We no sooner
arrived when a car pulled up and dad got out.  Rosey gave him a ride. I
immediately went into our bedroom, took my clothes off, showered and went
to bed.  Dad stayed up for a while longer talking to Beryl and then put him
to bed in the other room.  I barely remember dad crawling in bed next to
me, holding me for a minute in his arms, kissed me gently on the forehead
and wished me a good night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dad and Beryl were up at the crack of dawn the next morning and laughed at
me as I dragged my ass into the living room.  I sat down at the table and
dad handed me a cup of coffee the way I like it, blonde and sweet.  I
wasn't hung over, just a bit groggy from sleeping so soundly.  With two
cups of coffee I was feeling more alive and awake.  We pulled out of the RV
grounds about six in the morning.  I was sure Rosey's wouldn't be open.  I
was wrong.  The entire town was there having breakfast.  Dad and Beryl
agreed to have breakfast and we grabbed a table near the kitchen.  Out came
Rosey with both arms full of orders of food for the folks. She was as busy
as a one legged man at a butt kicking contest. She had something funny to
say to almost everyone.  Rosey was on; holding court at center stage.

One man at the counter complained he ordered his eggs scrambled but they
were sunny side up.  Rosey looked down at the plate with a frustrated look
on her face, took her fingers and scrambled the eggs right on his plate.

"There, Dick!  Them eggs are scrambled."  The poor man didn't know whether
to shit or go blind.  Rosey threw back her head, roared with laughter,
grabbed up his plate and took it back to the kitchen to get his order
right.  She had everyone in the place rolling on the floor with
laughter. Another man complained his hot cakes were rubbery.  She strolled
over to his table, took a good long look at his hot cakes, whipped one off
his plate and slammed it to the floor.

"Damned if that sucker didn't bounce!"  she laughed again and whisked his
plate away to the kitchen to get him some more hot cakes.  Everyone heard
her chastise the cook.

"Phil make Hank some more hot cakes and this time don't add so much of that
old latex paint to the batter!"  She had the place in stitches.

She took our orders and brought us our food. When we finished and paid for
our breakfast she had her cook and dishwasher bring out two big produce
boxes and a gunny sack filled with all kinds of assorted fruit. Everything
and anything you might imagine. Dad had them put it all into the other
bedroom.  It was enough fruit for an army of people.  The spare bedroom
smelled like Carmen Miranda's headgear on a hot afternoon. Who would eat
that much fruit I wondered?  It would make the average man shit like a
goose for a month.

Then I remembered Big Beryl's admonition to me from the night before to
just trust and go along with the flow.  I didn't say a thing to my dad;
however, while he was driving further north I would catch him glancing over
at me from time to time to see if he could gage my level of curiosity. I
returned his glance one time and smiled.  He knew it meant I would follow
him anywhere without question. I trusted him.  He was satisfied.

* * * * * * * * * *

After about an hour of traveling Big Beryl pulled off on a side road.  We
stayed on the dirt road for about ten miles or more.  It ran down to a
beautiful river. It was the most beautiful spot on Earth I had witnessed to
that point.  The river was beautiful and nestled in and among the trees
were about fifteen individual cabins and one great house that looked to be
a lodge. Dad explained that it was a retreat were folks could come and stay
in the cabins, fish and generally commune with nature. They could hike the
trails back into the woods for several miles to view spectacular
scenery. They also had an RV campground with electricity and sewer hook
ups.  Dad wasted no time in choosing a space and skillfully backed the
motorcoach into it.

Down the front steps came two fine looking older men with their arms open
wide to greet dad and Big Beryl.  There was much hugging and kisses on the
cheeks.  It was obvious the gentlemen were thrilled to see my dad again but
they kept looking out the corner of their eyes at me.

"Al, Frank,---I'd like to introduce you to my son, Jessie Junior; however,
he mostly answers to the name 'Grub.'" Al and Frank looked me over. Al took
my hand and pumped it with both of his.

"Oh, hell, Son. That ain't gonna' get it!  Gimme' a hug."  I gave the big
man a hug and I thought he was going to cry in my arms.

"If he gets a hug, so do I.  Out of the way, old man, let your better half
have a hug."  I hugged Frank, too.  He laughed and whispered to me.

"Damn, you look like your old man, Son.  You're both fine looking men."

My mind was going in circles.  Better half, he called his friend?  Could
they be?  Awh, who the hell cared?  This far from nowhere and as friendly
as they seemed, fuck it!  So, two men love each other.  What of it?
Besides, I was with my old man and Big Beryl.  I trusted them completely.
 
Dad tried to pay the men for the space but they wouldn't take his money.

"Are you kidding?  After all you done for us over the years.  Take your
money and put it were the sun don't shine."  Frank told my dad smiling.  I
liked the two of them immediately. I didn't give a shit what church they
belonged to or what Gods they prayed to.  They were good men and obviously
thought the world of my dad and Big Beryl.  That was good enough for me.

"What are your plans, Gentlemen?  You gonna' stay around here for the
evening or are you going to hike out to visit family right away?  They know
Beryl's here all ready.  They heard his bike. Somehow they have a sixth
sense when someone special's coming. Well, you know, Jess.  We're being
watched even as we speak."

"Well," said my dad, "I thought we'd stay here this evening and tomorrow
afternoon hike up to the gorge.  I'd like my boy to see the sun go down
from there and then we'll stay the night."  The men fell out laughing.

"Stay the night?"  Al asked doubled over with laughter.  "If we see you
again in three days we'll be damn lucky.  Well, that sounds like a plan.
Have dinner with us and then you can go your way."

This was all beginning to be more than a bit mysterious for me but I wasn't
about to ask.  What was all this about being watched?  Was there some
covert government operation being carried on in these parts?  I looked all
around and could see nothing but I noticed dad would look of into the
distance then look a Beryl and wink.  Beryl would chuckle and nod his head
in agreement.

We had dinner with Al and Frank and my suspicions were confirmed.  They
were a couple. They were not overt but they made no effort to hide the
affection that passed between them.  It was deep and genuine. They lived
simply but neatly and were superb cooks.  They fixed us a dinner that was
in their vernacular, "to die for." I could tell from their conversation
with dad and Beryl they were a close knit group and all four men had strong
affection for each other. We talked for hours about everything and I
finally got up enough nerve to ask a question about something that was
bothering me.

"Mr. Beryl and my dad told me they accidentally ran into a family of
Bigfoot.  I didn't believe them at first but I know my dad wouldn't lie to
me and after getting to know Mr. Beryl better I know he wouldn't lie to me
either.  Have either of you seen any around this area?"

Both men were silent for a moment and then looked at my dad for guidance. I
saw my dad barely nod his head to them. That simple gesture told the men to
answer my question honestly.

"Yes, Son.  All the time.  They've lived around here for thousands of years
before us and probably will out last us for thousands of years. Unlike us,
they live in perfect harmony with nature. They are peaceful, highly
intelligent and have a keen sense of right and wrong. They take only what
they can eat or use from the Earth and harm no one unless provoked. They're
very curious. They're curious about a lot of things but within the last
thirty years that Al and I have been here they've grown more curious about
us as well.  They were watching us when you arrived.  There were at least
eight that Al and I saw.  How many did you and Beryl count, Jessie?"

"About the same, Frank."  my dad answered quietly.

"I only counted six." added Big Beryl.

"How come I didn't see one?" I asked.

"You don't know where to look, Son."  Al genuinely answered my question.

"Do you think I might get to see one, Dad?"  Dad smiled at me with a slight
grin on his face.

"Would you like to, Son?"  Dad asked me.

"To actually see an animal most folks think is a myth?  You bet I'd like to
see one."

"I'd say your chances are better'n fifty-fifty." spoke Big Beryl.  He
chuckled and added, "You never know, sometime you see them and sometimes
you don't."

"Just remember, Grub, if we are lucky enough to see one they aren't just
animals. Like Al said they are a highly intelligent and amazing
species. They are not human but you must consider we're animals, too. As
you probably learned in school we belong to the species Homo sapiens.  Homo
sapiens means, "wise ape."  They belong to another family of apes several
of us like to call Homo pacificus americaninsis or "peaceful American ape."
We believe strongly there are other related species yet to be discovered in
other parts of the world and even more relatives left to be discovered in
other parts of our country."

No matter how thin you slice it we're both apes and descended from a common
ancestor.  That makes us family;---cousins in a way.  We belong to the same
subspecies Mammalia who suckle their young.  There is only two anatomical
differences between them and us.  Human males are the only mammal on our
planet without a bone in the penis and the female of our species is the
only mammal without a free floating sack.  All other mammals from Bigfoot,
the great apes to the sperm whale have bones in their penis and the females
have free floating sacks.

It's important you not show them fear. Their sense of smell is a hundred
times more sensitive than ours.  Some even speculate they have a greater
facility for smell than dogs.  They can smell your fear.  They can tell
you're afraid and will have nothing to do with you.  They're extremely
powerful animals but as peaceful as they are strong. They react to fear the
same way we do.  Fear is a built in protective response in all animals.
The response to fear is flight.  If any animal senses fear in another they
instinctively run from it.  So do they.  If you show them you're not afraid
of them and mean them no harm they won't be afraid of you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing from these men and my dad seemed to
know as much or more about these creatures than the others.  I wondered
why?

After a wonderful evening we said our goodbyes and Beryl, dad and I began
our short walk back to the motorcoach.  All of a sudden the most blood
curdling scream filled the night air as if it was surrounding us. It made
the flesh crawl up my back, up my spine into the back of my neck, up my
neck to the top of my scalp.  There it made my scalp crawl away from each
other in opposite directions.  Was I scared? No!  Not at all.  It went way
beyond scared.  I was terrified.  I stopped dead in my tracks and heard my
dad laugh and Big Beryl chuckle.

"What the hell was that?" I managed to get out.

"I think the question is, who the hell was that?" Big Beryl laughed.

My dad smiled but didn't comment. I didn't say another word but made an
effort to made a steady pace back to the motorcoach.  I was tired and ready
for bed.  Dad wanted to stay up and talk with Beryl for a while.  I took my
clothes off, showered and got into bed.  Again, through the clear night
air, came another scream that sounded like a woman being stabbed through
the heart with an ice pick.  Again chills ran up my back and I wondered if
this caterwauling was going to continue all night.  How could anyone get
any sleep with that racket going on?  I was about to go to sleep when I
heard Big Beryl leave the motorcoach.  He was gone for quite a while and
then returned as dad was getting out of the shower.

"It'll be all right now. I talked to them."  I heard him tell my dad.
"They're excited you're here and can't wait to see you.  I told them you
bought Grub with you.  I thought they were gonna' flip out. They wanted to
come down right now with me to the coach but I told them we were going to
bed."

Was he talking about Bigfoot?  How did my dad know so much about these
creatures?  Was he going to take me to meet them?  Was he and Big Beryl
friends with them?  Was this the family he was going to introduce me to?
My final thought before drifting off to sleep was,

"Please, God, help me.  Make me strong and don't allow me to embarrass my
dad no matter who his friends or family might be."  A voice in my head
responded, "If they love your dad, how bad could they be?"

* * * * * * * * * * * *
    
Dad and Big Beryl allowed me to sleep in. There seemed to be no hurry as we
weren't going hiking into the back country until early afternoon. Dad got
out the chocolate cake mom baked and froze. He also sat out half of the
loves of bread. He sat them on the counter to defrost and then began to
pack three hiking backpacks.  When he finished the backpacks weighed about
thirty pounds each.

Dad got me up around eight for coffee and some wonderful, fresh, cinnamon
rolls Al baked that morning.  They were so good I had three. The four men
sat and talked about us taking off an hour or so after lunch. Al and Frank
had lunch all ready prepared for us.

"You guys didn't have to go to that trouble." my dad said to Al and Frank.

"Hesh up, Cowboy," Frank spoke to my dad, "We fixed it last night before we
went to bed and it was ready this morning.  You men need a big, heavy meal
before you start up to the gorge. It's not that long a hike that you can't
make it in about three, maybe four hours but you have no idea when your
next meal might come so you need the food.  What kind of friends would let
you wander off half starved.  'Sides, that handsome young son of yours is
still a growing boy.  He needs a lot of food."  Dad laughed and hugged both
men.  He was obviously enjoying being reunited with his old friends. In
their conversation Al and Frank looked at me in my new levis and flannel
shirt and raised an eyebrow.

"Grub, you might want to change into the oldest clothes you brought along.
Just take a tip from two old back packers, after you've hiked up to the
gorge and back, you won't want to take them home with you."  Al told me.
Dad and Big Beryl agreed with them.  I looked at dad and noticed he had on
old faded levis, one of his oldest flannel shirt and an old rag-tag jacket
he'd failed to throw away for years. Big Beryl was dressed similarly.  I
went in an found my old work clothes I kept in the motorcoach in case dad
and I ever needed to do some emergency repairs.  They were pretty worn and
tattered in a few places but I felt they might work.  When I returned to
the living area they all approved my change of clothes.

Later we went up to the lodge for another meal with Al and Frank.  They
weren't kidding about a heavy meal.  They served a big salad. You could
take as much as you liked and a one dish stew with everything you could
imagine in it.  Al called it Frank's slumgullion stew.  It had chicken,
beef, pork and fresh salmon mixed with all kinds of complimentary
vegetables. It was wonderful.  It certainly was filling.  During lunch dad
talked with Al and Frank about the fresh fruit Rosey sent and how they were
going to get it to the family.  By this time I figured out that "the
family" meant the Bigfoot.

"Leave it with us.  We'll load it all on old Bessie May Mucho and hike up
tomorrow morning.  It's getting late in the season.  We ain't got but one
cabin rented and they're away on a river rafting expedition; won't be back
'til next Thursday.  The old girl needs some exercise anyway.  Hell, all
she does is hang around here and gets fat from everyone feeding her treats.
She ain't afraid of the folks so she'll be just fine."

"She wouldn't be so damn fat if you stopped those early morning coffee
klatches with her and feeding her sticky buns."  Frank chastised Al.  They
all laughed.

"Well, at least someone around here appreciates my sticky buns.  After
all,---love is were you find it, Darlin.'"

"I appreciate your sticky buns, Sweetie."  Frank raised an eyebrow, winked
at Al and made him blush. We all laughed.  It was obvious they loved each
other very much.

"Who's Bessie May Mucho?"  I asked.

"Oh, ---she's a wild ass that drifted into our place one day and decided it
was a nice place to call home,---what, Frank---about fifteen years ago?"

"More like twenty.  Hell, she was here when Jess was stay'n with us.
Right, Jessie?" he spoke to my dad and he nodded in agreement, "and that's
been over twenty years.  It was Jessie what talked her into staying.  Now,
we can't beat her off with a stick."

"I didn't have to do too much talking.  You guys provided everything she
needed.  Hell,---why do you think I stayed around for so damn long?"  Al
and Frank got a big laugh out of that.

"I guess you're right, Hon."  Al spoke to Frank, "Damn!  It seems like
yesterday.  Anyway, Grub,---she's more of a pet than a pack animal.  She's
like a faithful old dog. We've never put a bit or bridle on her; not even a
rope around her neck.  We just pack her up and she follows us.  We take her
with us occasionally when we want to go back packing.  If we don't she gets
so damn fat we've considered making her a poster child for Jenny Craig."
Everyone fell out laughing at Al.
        
* * * * * * * * * *

Rights Of Passage~

"When I was a child, I though as a child and spoke as a child.  When I
became a man, I set aside my childish ways."

We were a little late getting on the trail to the gorge.  I was stuffed.  I
never should've had that second helping of apple cobbler with fresh,
homemade vanilla ice cream, but damn, it was good.  If Al and Frank fed my
dad like that all the time no wonder he stayed around for a while. I'd give
it serious consideration myself.
  
The backpacks dad made up for us were heavy but not overly so.  For three
or four hours up a pretty well traveled path it shouldn't be a problem.
Dad and I had hiked with heavier packs.  The final addition was two plastic
containers for each of us.  One was more of Frank's delicious stew and the
other was more apple cobbler.

We'd been on the trail for about an hour and I thought I saw something move
in the trees just to the left of my vision.  I didn't turn my head but
centered my attention on my peripheral vision and there it was again.

"Mr. Beryl I keep seeing something out of the corner of my eye moving in
the trees about fifty yards to my left."  I said to him.  Big Beryl
chuckled.


"Oh, yeah, we're being followed; have been since we hit the trail. They
wouldn't let nothing happening to us.  How many have you seen, Son?"

"Only the one, Sir, and it was quick.  Kind of like a fleeting shadow."

"There's at least five..."

"Six."  I heard dad interrupt Big Beryl, "three on our left and three on
our right."

"Why don't they just come down to us on the trail?"

"It's not the way they do things, Son," Dad explained, "they're very shy
and have good reasons to be. They probably would if it were just Beryl or
me; but remember, I haven't been here in over twenty years and you're new
to them.  They're sizing both of us up.  Just don't be afraid, Grub, you
couldn't be safer if you were with your mother."
  
"Hell, it ain't mom I'm worried about, Dad.  Of course I'd feel safe with
her.  She's a tigress." I laughed and dad and Beryl agreed.

After the second hour I was beginning to feel the weight of the backpack
but didn't complain.  We seemed to be making good time but I didn't ask how
much further it would be. I didn't want to give dad the impression I was
getting tired.  I wasn't.  I was thoroughly enjoying myself and the country
was beautiful.  I caught a couple more glimpses of some movement of
something reddish-brown in color on my right and again on my left.

The trail kept winding up into the mountains and the higher the elevation
the harder it was to breathe.  We took several breaks and I was glad Al was
thoughtful enough to give us his care packages of stew and cobbler.  I
decided to have a bit of both with some much needed water.  Dad and Big
Beryl did the same.  Al and Frank had been right.  Trying this hike on an
empty stomach wasn't too cool an idea.  While we were sitting and eating
dad kept giving me directions were to look.

"Don't try to look right at them."  he advised me, "Use your peripheral
vision. Their vision is much better than ours and they can see where your
eyes are looking.  They won't make a move if they think you're looking in
their direction.  Now, check out about a hundred yards directly in front of
you at your ten o'clock position."

I kept eating looking down into my food and sure enough I saw almost a full
shot of a humanoid creature move in the brush next to a large tree.

"See it?"  asked Big Beryl.

"Yes, Sir, first full shot I've gotten of one. What a magnificent
creature."  I continued to eat my stew.  Dad and Big Beryl laughed
obviously glad I was enthralled by the experience.

"I've heard they're sometime called "skunk ape."  Is that awful smell
coming from them?" I asked the two men who proceeded to laugh at my
question.


"That's them, all right!"  laughed Big Beryl, "They use their smell as a
defense against large predators like wolves, bears and cougars; sort of
like a skunk would use it's spray to keep a larger animal from
attacking. I've seen Grizzlies run from them because of their smell. They
communicate and interrelate through odor.  They repel us by their odor and
attract others of their kind the same way.  It's the way they mark their
territories.  If they bond with a human they expect him to take on their
smell.  It's part of their culture and rituals. To become a part of them
you must smell like them.

Don't worry, Grub, you never get use to it but it bothers you less the more
you're around them.  Now you can appreciate why Al advised you to wear old
clothing.  One thing they definitely have in common with a skunk is once
you get their smell on you there's no getting it out of your clothes.  I
don't care how many times you wash them or with what brand of soap.  You
will never get the tell-tale odor of Sasquatch out of them."

"For all that, they are very modest." my dad continued, "Their hair covers
their bodies and private parts so they don't have to be afraid of exposing
themselves.  The first time they saw Beryl and I bathing naked in the river
they turned away in shame and embarrassment." Dad laughed as he reminded
Beryl about the incident.

We finished our snack, loaded back up and hit the trail again. I hardly ate
any of my stew and just a few bits of my cobbler.  I though I'd save the
rest for an emergency.  I noticed dad and Big Beryl did the same.  It was
just the right amount of rest we needed and with renewed vigor we made good
time.  It took us a little over three and a half hours to crest the summit
of the gorge. Dad and Big Beryl held back as they let me take the lead to
the summit.  I almost ran the last few feet and what I saw before me took
my breath away.

"My God in heaven!" was all I could get out as I heard my dad and Beryl
chuckling behind me.  "How could any man see this and ever wonder if there
is a God?  Dad, Mr. Beryl, thanks for bringing me here.  This is truly a
once in a life time experience."

Dad walked up beside me, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close
to him.  He nuzzled me behind my ear with his bushy mustache and looked out
over the vast expanse with me.

"It's something I always wanted to share with you.  I'm glad we took this
opportunity to come up here.  I know I don't tell you too often, Grub,
certainly not often enough, but now seems like as good a time as any to
tell you I love you and I'm proud of you, Son."

"You know I love you, Dad and I'll always be here for you."

"I know that, Son.  That's part of why I love you.  You've never given me a
moments doubt you love me.  If it weren't for your love, your sister and
mom's love I never would've made it though the dark times.  Your love
sustained me and made me realize life is two fold.  The bad and the good.
My family's goodness has made the fight all worth while."

I guess I was overwhelmed buy the beauty and love of the moment because my
eyes started leaking. The next thing I knew dad had his arms around me
holding me and we were both shedding a few tears.  It was one of the most
powerful moments I ever shared with my dad.  There would be several more
before our trip was over.

* * * * * * * * * *

Oh, Brother, wherefore art thou?

"Little help over here!"  barked Big Beryl.  He had taken off his backpack
and was busily gathering wood for a fire. There was a big round, rock fire
pit which was left there by other hikers who built it many years ago.
There was even a concrete picnic table with concrete benches on either
side.  It was hard for me to imagine hauling enough concrete all the way up
here for a picnic table but someone did.  Dad and I took off our backpacks
and I started to help Beryl gather wood.  Pretty soon we had a good pile
and Beryl started a small fire.  It was getting late in the afternoon and
the sun was just before setting.

Meanwhile, dad unpacked some things from the backpacks.  He brought along
mom's cake and was gently unwrapping it.  He carefully cut it into fairly
large pieces and left it sitting on the end of the table.  Then he started
manufacturing peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches.  Beryl and I joined him
to set up an assembly line operation and before long we must have had
thirty sandwiches piled up along the front side of the table. Dad had
packed two jars of peanut butter and one jar of jelly in each backpack.  He
included two loaves of bread in each backpack as well.

When we finished we had a little over fifty sandwiches prepared.  Dad was
pleased.  Then he brought out several pieces of fruit and placed them on
the other end of the table. Bananas, apples, pears, grapes, oranges, plums
and a box of fresh strawberries. The table looked like Belshazzar's feast.
Then he covered the whole thing with an old sheet he'd borrowed from Al and
Frank.

Dad always carried with him a hip flash of Southern Comfort.  He would
laugh and tell everyone it was medicinal.  He got laughed at a lot, too.
As the sun began to set in the west the colors of the canyon and mountains
took on an entirely new perspective.  It was like watching a graphics art
show on T.V. but it was all right there in front of me.  It could be
smelled, felt and touched.  It touched me in return.  God must have known
we were coming because he made that particular sunset a memorable one.  All
the colors of the rainbow and then some were represented in the vast
panoply of nature.  A phrase kept running through my head, "God's in his
heaven, all's right with the world."  Surely, at that moment, in the
continuum of time and space, in this place, all was right with the world.
I was only to appreciate that phrase more as the evening wore on.

Dad got out his hip flask, took a pull on it and passed it to Beryl.  Big
Beryl took his pull from the flask and handed it to me.  I handed it back
to my dad.

"Naw, you're a man now, Son.  Time you joined the men.  Take yourself a
good swallow of comfort.  I have a feeling you're going to need it."  Beryl
was sitting next to me and couldn't stop laughing.  Dad smiled as I took a
goodly pull from the flask and then made an awful face. It was sweet and
had a good taste, but my God, it burned all the way down.  I swore my damn
toenails curled back on themself.  Whew!

"Holy crap, Dad." I declared as I shook my head, "You're right. It has to
be medicinal. What don't kill me's gotta' cure me."  Dad and Beryl got a
good laugh out of that.  I will have to say it did mellow me out and my dad
was right again.  It was probably just what I needed for what was to come.

After the sun went down we sat on a huge log in front of the fire talking
softly about nothing in particular.  I thought every now and then I could
catch a glimpse of some movement but I couldn't be sure.  All I knew was
the smell was becoming overpowering.  It was getting stronger and stronger.
Somehow though, it wasn't as repulsive as it had been the first time I got
a whiff of it.  It reminded me of the time our dog got sprayed by a skunk
and it was my job to bath him in tomato juice and then a good, hot,
pine-sol bath.  He stunk like a skunk and in turn I got it all over me.
After a while it wasn't so bad.  It still stunk to high heaven but it must
have burned out certain olfactory nerves in my nose because it became less
and less hard to bear. However, for months afterwards, Barney still had the
faint lingering odor of skunk musk.

"Here, Sprout," Dad handed me his hip flask one more time, "take another
good pull." I did and handed it back to him in anguish.  He took another
and handed it to Big Beryl.  Beryl took a hit and past it back to dad.

"'Bout time to start the evening festivities, Jess?"

"Yeah, I think so, old friend.  I want to try something first.  I wonder if
he'll remember."

Dad leaned back and started to whistle in loud pure tones.  Dad was a great
whistler and had perfect intonation.  He started whistling, "On top of old
smokey, all covered with snow..." and stopped.  He waited.  Nothing.  Then
he tried again, "On top of old smokey, all covered with snow..." and
stopped.  This time from the trees came a perfectly intoned, whistled
response, "I lost my true lover from courting to slow."  I was shattered.
No one told me they could whistle and in perfect tune.  Dad arose slowly.

"Grub?"  he spoke into the forest trees as if the name was sacred.  I
though he was talking to me but caught Big Beryl's eye and saw him shake
his head.  Less than ten feet from us appeared a huge creature about eight
and a half feet tall. It was almost like he appeared out of no
where. Suddenly he was right there before us.  I was stunned not only by
his size but his beauty. He had the most expressive eyes and I was sure I
saw them glisten with moisture.  He slowly raised his huge arms and opened
them to my dad.  Dad didn't hesitate and was in the huge creatures arms in
a second.  I watched as my dad cried like a baby in the big creatures
arms. It would stroke my dad's head and would sing to him in a deep
rumbling tone that for lack of a better description was in tune with the
human soul.  He was singing comfort and welcome to my dad.

I began to see more and more of the creatures appear.  I was almost
overwhelmed. There must have been twenty five of them.  Huge male adults,
females and young.  Some of the young were not more than three to five feet
and stayed behind their adult parents.  There was one huge male almost a
head taller than the one dad called 'Grub' He was massive and enormous.  He
had to be ten feet tall and was huge all over.  Dad finally pulled away
from the big creature and tickled him on his belly.  It laughed.  My God,
it laughed!  It sounded for all the world like human laughter.

"My God, look at you."  My dad spoke to the big creature, "You're huge. You
are your dad's son all right." The big creature had a big shy smile on his
face.  Dad turned to me and motioned with his hand for me to join him.

"Come here, Son. I want you to meet your brother and namesake, Grub. I want
you to meet my other son, Grub."  I looked into the big creatures eyes and
could only see deep affection.  He gently took my hand and pulled me into
him.  I threw my arms around him and almost wet my pants. (They probably
would've loved that.)  I couldn't imagine even seeing one of these illusive
creatures and now here I was embracing one in what had to be a loving
gesture.


"Me, Grub."  It softly spoke to me.  Oh, shit!  No one told me they could
speak either. I almost shit my pants right there.

"Me, Grub, too." I told him softly and hung on for dear life as I felt it
ever so gently caress my hair and head.  I couldn't have gotten away if I
wanted to but the funny thing was, as fast as my heart was beating, I
didn't want to get away.  How many folks ever get to see a Bigfoot let
alone be embraced by one? He stank like a cesspool but at that point my
other senses were over riding my negative olfactories. Holy smokes, my
heart was pounding a mile a minute in excitement and then I not only heard
but felt his song to me from the bottom of his soul into mine.  He rumbled
on and sang to me as he caressed and held me until I could feel my heart
begin to stop racing.  Finally, I could feel his heart beating in perfect
sync with mine. Our hearts literally beat as one.
  
A sense of awe and calm came over me I can't put into words.  It was
remarkable to say the least. It was one of the most remarkably wonderful
and certainly one of the most powerful experiences of my life. It changed
my life right then and there. I grew up in that big creatures arms.  In the
arms of my beloved brother whom I had never met before.  I saw a vision
while in his arms of what I must do with my life. There was no room for
doubt.  Then I heard him say,

"Grub love little brother Grub."

Without hesitation I replied,

"I love my big bother, Grub, too."  Then I lost it. I was so touched by his
generosity of spirit I started crying and once again he sang his song of
comfort and welcome to me.  I couldn't let go I was so moved and touched.
Finally, I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder and Grub released me into his
arms.  I cried in my dad's arms.  He chuckled and comforted me.

"There's more of the family for you to meet."  Grub stepped aside and I got
a good look at the monster behind him. One look in his eyes told me he
wasn't a monster at all but a highly intelligent creature capable of great
love.  Dad addressed the huge Sasquatch.

"Tank, I promised that one day I would bring my son to give to you so that
we might share both. This is my son.  I named him Grub after our other son.
I would only share him with you if I was proud of him and felt he was
worthy to be your son.  He is good in his heart and has no fear."

The giant creature opened his arms to me and I went to embrace him.  Just
before I did I watched one tear rolled down the fur on his face.  I spoke
to him.

"Grub proud to be Tank's son." he must have understood every word because
he held me tighter and petted me all the more.  Then as his son had done,
he sang to me. It was the most relaxing feeling that came over me.  He
didn't bother with words.  He didn't have to.  He went straight for my
heart and sang his song to my soul.  I lost it again and started crying
when I heard him rumble in a deep bass voice.  I held him tighter.

"Son, Grub, easy to see. Look like other dad."  I realized he was telling
me he thought I was good looking.  I don't know how long we stood there but
I was in no hurry to part his company. I never felt safer in my life than
in Grub or Tank's arms.  I felt either would lay down their lives before
they hurt me or allowed me to be hurt.  Tank was Grub's father and now he
was my other dad.  How lucky can one kid get? I all ready had a wonderful
man for my natural father and now I had a being, a creature, my genetic
cousin, as my second dad. My dad knew what he was doing.  He brought me on
this trip knowing this was the end of my childhood and now was my time to
accept my role of responsibility as an adult. What better way than to
introduce me to his extended family.  I only wished he had done it earlier.
I can only imagine growing up amidst such loving creatures.
 
As the evening went on I was introduced to Tank's mate, Dora.  They are
monogamous and mate for life.  I met Tank's second in the family.  His name
was Hogan.  Dad named him after Hulk Hogan because he was big and always
preening himself.  I meet Sally, Grub's sister and several other grown
children.  They all shyly took my hand but didn't embrace me.  There was
twenty two in all.

Dad moved to the table and removed the cloth.  There were sighs from the
folks.  He indicated for them to help themselves.  I thought it would be
mayhem but it wasn't.  They were very orderly and only took as much as they
could carry in their hands.  After all had gone through the line there was
still food left and dad offered anyone who wanted more to help themselves.
Tank said something to the young ones and they were the first in line for
more.  Dad and Big Beryl gave them anything they wanted until it was all
gone.

I was amazed.  I thought there might be in-fighting, pushing and shoving
and hoarding of the goodies.  There was nothing like that.  The older
shared with the younger and siblings shared with each other.  Mom's cake
was like gold to them.  Even though dad had tried to slice as many pieces
as he could it's hard to make twenty-two pieces out of an average size
cake.  It didn't seem to bother them.  They seemed grateful for the treat
and shared even morsels with each other so that all got a taste.  Dad told
Tank and Dora that Martha, his wife, made the cake and sent it to them.
Tank wanted to know if I was the child she was carrying when they visited
many years ago.  Dad pulled out his wallet and showed them my sister's
picture.

Everyone had to see and ooued and aahed over a photo of my mom and sister.
They were very careful with it and returned it to my dad with reverence.  I
was becoming enchanted by these creatures.  Tank would have nothing but I
sit next to him.  I did even though his smell was enough to gag a maggot.
However, to my credit I was getting more use to it.

I noticed they would sit well away from the fire.  Later, dad told me
they're afraid of fire because of the destruction they experience from
natural fires.  They haven't yet learned that fire can be controlled for
their warmth and protection.  Dad isn't real sure how much they should be
taught about our ways.  They seem to be doing just fine without our help.

I had to laugh when I brought Tank and Dora a peanut butter and jelly
sandwich.  Dora slowly ate hers but Tank put the entire sandwich in his
mouth as if it were a cookie.  He really enjoyed it.  It seems that peanut
butter is one of their favorite of our foods.  It was funny to watch him
eat it because it would stick to the roof of his mouth and he would make
funny faces trying to get it off with his tongue.  He reminded me of our
dog Barney when I would give him a taste of peanut butter.  It would stick
to the roof of his mouth and he would lick and lick to get it off.

The young ones played around the outer perimeters of the group and once in
a while an adult would scold one.  It would immediately stop it's play and
go to it's parent.  From time to time Tank put his big arm around me and
pulled me close to him.  It was hard to imagine a creature as big as Tank
could be so gentle and show genuine affection.  I was amazed by the whole
evening. Dad came and sat beside me to talk.

"What do you think of your new family, Son?"  he smiled as he asked.

"I couldn't have wished for better, Dad.  I'm truly overwhelmed and happy.
These folks are not at all what I might have imagined them to be.  The name
you gave them as "peaceful" certainly is apt.  I've never felt such love
from anyone, anywhere except from my immediate family."

"I hoped you would like them.  I fell in love with them many years ago and
I'm sad I didn't make a greater effort to return more times to see them;
however, I've had a running battle within myself over whether it's a good
or bad thing to intermingle with them. Will they learn bad things from us?
If we intermingle too much will it make them less shy and contribute to
their downfall?  Beryl has had much more contact with them over the years
than I have.  Al and Frank come to visit with them regularly but won't
allow them to come around the campgrounds or lodge during tourist season
for their own safety.

During the off season, during the winter, they come to Al and Frank's back
door and knock if they really need something. Al and Frank have saved
several of their lives when they were desperate and didn't know what to do.
During the harshest winters they've provided them with food.  There's a
number of people who help them out.  Rosey and a half dozen folks in
Centerville help them from time to time.  They usually don't get that far
south.  Once in a while, during the winter, Rosey and a couple of folks
from Centerville will drive up with a truck load of food.

There's a retired veterinarian who lives not far from Al and Frank and they
got him involved a number of years ago.  He stays at the lodge regularly
during the winter just to be available for them if they need him. You
should hear the funny story Frank tells of the Vet when they first ask him
to doctor a Sasquatch. All the while he's explaining to Al and Frank the
inconceivable stupidity of such a notion that there could be the slightest
thread of truth to the Bigfoot legends, Tank, Dora, Grub and his two
sisters have quietly slipped into the room and are standing behind him.  He
sniffs the air and asks Al and Frank,

"What's that awful smell.  You guys cesspool back up."

Al and Frank were about to burst from held back laughter and indicated for
him to turn around.  He turned around and fainted.  When they brought him
to, he couldn't believe they were still there.

"Oh my God!  Oh my God!  They're real!" was all he could say.  After he
finally calmed down he took care of the child with no problem.  He was a
professional and that was his job.  Fortunately, he takes his job
seriously.  The family love and cherish Al, Frank and the Vet.  His name is
J. B. Brown and he's a good man.  He was the one who came up with the
technical name for them after a conversation with Beryl and I over dinner
one evening.

"How did you get involved with them, Dad?"

"Well, that's one of the stories of my past I've been meaning to tell you
and, I suppose, now is as good a time as any.  Because if I leave anything
out or don't tell it quite right, I'm sure I'll be corrected." he laughed
and winked at Big Grub.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jessie's Story~

"We are but sojourners here for a while.  Where we pass, time will erase
our footprints but, good or bad, nothing may stop the momentum of our
actions. We make the future happen. The choices are ours."~ Buckminster
Fuller
     

"When I returned from Nam I didn't fit in anywhere. I couldn't keep a
regular nine to five job.  I was a mess.  The government didn't offer any
counseling for returning vets.  They would if you went to VA and actually
requested it but most didn't know they had that option and stayed as far
away from anything that smacked of military as possible.

I thought I could outrun the pain of what I went through in Nam but I
couldn't.  I saw horrors no man should ever have to live though, Son.  I
was a field corpsman with the first cavalry division and lived every day in
fear and horror.  I tried to do the best I could for the wounded but there
were just too many and we had so little time.  I got separated from my
outfit twice behind enemy lines because I stayed behind after the last evac
chopper left the area.

Later I'll tell you some of the things I went through.  I never wanted to
tell you when you were younger because it isn't something a kid needs to
grow up with.  I've sheltered you from all that because I wanted you to
grow up without the thoughts of what I went though. You did grow up to be a
fine young man whom I'm very proud of.  Now, I feel you can handle a little
of what I've kept so secret from you all these years.

The story of my involvement with this family is a direct result of my years
in Nam.  I returned and was riding with Beryl and his extended biker
family.  We had been up to this area several times and stayed with Al and
Frank.  We'd help them with any large project they might have and stayed in
the lodge.  Sometimes there was as many as fifteen or twenty of us.  Over a
period of several summers we built all but three of the cabins.  We never
hung around after August because the cold weather set in and it wasn't much
fun riding a bike in cold weather; especially with snow on the ground.

One August, somewhat like this, I wasn't in the mood to go south with the
family and asked Al and Frank if I could stay the winter with them and help
out around the place.  They were thrilled to have me and it worked out
great.  Never ate better in my life nor had better companions than Al and
Frank.  They treated me with respect, gave me my privacy and I gave them
theirs.  Didn't mean we couldn't laugh and giggle at some of their crazy
antics.

Al and Frank told me about the family but I didn't believe them.  Even
though they were serious I thought they were bullshit'n me.  I will have to
say ever' now and then I saw something that moved through the woods I
couldn't quite make out or understand.  Anyway, in the spring of that year
I'd been to Centerville for the weekend on my bike.  I'd spent most of my
time at Rosey's having a good time.  I made it a rule never to ride my bike
unless I was stone cold sober.  I'd seen too many bikers get wiped out
because they had too much to drink and their reaction time was impaired.

I left Rosey's on a Sunday afternoon and noticed clouds gathering in the
north.  I kept a pretty close eye on weather forecast but this seemed to be
a freak storm that just came out of no where.  As you know it's about an
hours ride to Al and Frank's so I began to pick up speed.  The last thing I
wanted was to be caught and have to ride though some hellacious storm.  I
always carried my rain gear in my saddle bags but I didn't want to stop
long enough to get it out.  I really wanted to beat the storm.  Well, to
make a longer story shorter, I didn't beat the storm and about five miles
from the turn off to their place the bottom dropped out.  It began raining,
sleeting and hailing all at the same time.  I mean it was raining so hard I
could barely see beyond my handle bars.

It was the most scared I'd ever been on my bike.  The rain started mixing
with the sleet and hail to coat the back top with ice and it became more
and more difficult to handle the bike. I kept thinking if I just hung in
there the turn off to their place would soon appear.  The next thing I knew
my back wheel was trying to go faster than my front and I went into a skid.
I hit the shoulder of the road and went ass over teakettle down the
embankment into the brush and slammed into a tree.  It broke both my legs
and right arm and a branch from a bush somehow got stuck into my side and I
was bleeding from the wound.

I passed out and didn't come to until it started to lightly rain again.  I
couldn't move but started to cry for help.  It suddenly struck me as funny
because there wasn't anyone for miles around to hear me, and yet, here I
was calling for help.  Who was I calling to, I thought?  I lay there and
started to cry in frustration.  I was angry at myself for not planning
things better. I could've stayed over at Rosey's and started out later.
Rosey always had a room for me if I wanted. She never required anything of
me but my friendship and a little help around the place.

I lay there thinking about dying and how it was gonna' feel. I thought how
ironic it was I survived four years in Nam, got shot up and sent home yet
here I was about to die in this ditch.  I kept crying out until it began to
get dark. I knew when it got dark and it started getting colder I would die
of hyperthermia. I got to thinking that wouldn't be so bad.  I'd just get
sleepy, go to sleep and die; an easy way to go.  I was beginning to look
forward to it.  I convinced myself I was even beginning to feel drowsy.

That's when I got a whiff of the most awful smell.  It kept getting closer
and closer.  I wasn't afraid but I could hear something moving in the
forest.  I cried out again hoping it was a hunter or a kid going though the
woods.  There was no response and I started to cry again.  I closed my eyes
but when I opened them I was staring into two of the most beautiful eyes
I'd ever seen but they were in the head of a monster.  I jumped and cried
out from the pain.  He moved back.  Then I laughed because here I was face
to face with a Bigfoot and I couldn't move.

Suddenly, he laughed, too. My fear of him vanished.  I looked him in the
eyes and spoke to him.

"Damn, you're bigger than a Sherman tank." I told him. "Well, Tank,--- old
fellow, if you're gonna' kill me do it quickly and get it over with.  Don't
let me lay here and suffer, big guy."

He leaned over me again and I could swear I heard him say,

"Tank, no kill."  With that he picked me up and started off through the
woods carrying me.  The pain was unbearable and I wished several times he'd
just kill me.  He didn't.  I passed out from loss of blood and the pain but
he carried me to Al and Frank's front porch and let out a scream that
immediately got Al and Frank's attention.  They came running out of the
lodge only to find me there broken and bleeding.  They put me in the back
of their Bronco and rushed me to the small hospital in the larger town
twenty miles north of here.

The doctor's didn't know how I made it through.  I lost so much blood they
didn't think I'd live through the night.  They patched me up and kept me
doped up for several days.  While I was in my haze I remembered being
carried through the woods.  I would open my eyes and see Tank's eyes
looking down at me with all the concern of a parent for a small child.  I
could remember my ear pressed against his foul smelling chest and hearing
his big heart pumping overtime as he hurried through the woods.  I could
remember his song to me as he ran.  It needed no words. As I lay in his
huge arms I realized his song was sustaining me.  I wanted to die and leave
my body but he wouldn't let me.  He kept me inside my body.  He comforted
me with his song and the further we went the less pain I felt.  It was as
if he anaesthetized my entire body with his song.  Well,---he sang to you
tonight and Grub sang to you.  I know you understand what I'm talking
about."

"I do, Dad.  I understand completely.  It was the most remarkable
experience of my life."

"I've told people and few believe me.  Unless you've experienced it, it's
hard to believe. I don't know whether I'd believe a story like mine if I
heard it from a stranger.  They asked me in the hospital how I came to be
on Al and Frank's front porch and why I smelled so bad.  Did I fall into a
sewer?  I laughed and told them they wouldn't believe me if I told
them. Surprisingly several folks did believe me.  The doctors didn't but
two of the nurses were American Indians from a local tribe.  They believed
me because they knew of the Sasquatch and smelled that smell before.  They
were the ones who had to clean me up.  Al and Frank believed me because
they had seen Tank and his family many times.  They saw Tank running away
into the trees when they found me on the porch.

After I got out of the hospital Beryl rode up to be with me and help Al and
Frank take care of me.  He went out several times with Al and Frank trying
to find my bike.  They would follow Beryl in their truck as he walked along
the side of the road looking into the forest for any sign of it.  They
never found a thing until one afternoon Beryl was returning from Rosey's
and saw a giant ape like man standing in the middle of the road.  Beryl
slammed on his brakes and watched as the creature ran down the embankment.
He stopped his bike and watched as he saw the big fellow move a lot of
brush and undergrowth to revel my bike.  They had hidden my bike for me.

Beryl rushed home to Al and Frank and couldn't get his story out fast
enough.  They jumped in the truck and returned to the spot and managed to
wrestle my bike to the road.  It was hardly damaged and Beryl started it
right up.  He followed Al and Frank back to the lodge and parked my bike in
their shed.  Not only had Tank saved my life he hid my bike so no one else
would find it.  Now, if a creature, no matter how big, how bad he appears
or how foul he might smell to you will do that for some other creature he
doesn't even know, they can't be all bad. He certainly deserved my thanks
and appreciation; perhaps, even my affection."

"Mine, too, Dad; otherwise, I wouldn't be here right now."  Tank leaned
over to me and spoke softly.

"Dad talk too much."  Tank made a joke. I could see the mischief in his
eyes as I laughed. My dad almost fell off the log laughing.  Then Tank
laughed and held me tighter. And you know what? I don't know if I was
getting use to him but Tank really didn't smell so bad anymore.


"They understand a lot more than we give them credit for, Son.  I have a
feeling Tank and Grub have learned a lot of our words over the last twenty
years.  I have to be more careful with my words.  However, everything I've
told you is the truth."

Tank nodded his big head and added,

"Truth. Jess tell truth to my son, Little Grub."  I almost lost it when
Tank called me his son.  Dad just beamed with pride.  I could see Big Beryl
out of the corner of my eye laughing his ass off.  He was closely following
every word of our conversation.

"Anyway, I ended up spending the next two years or so with Al and Frank.
It took me about six months to completely recover and no two people
could've been better to me.  They did everything and God love 'em I let
them.  I still love them very much to this day.  Beryl came up to visit as
often as he could and we really enjoyed his visits.  I got to where I could
get around and started taking hikes into the woods to build up my strength.
I wasn't the least bit scared anymore.  I always had a sense that I was
being watched over.

I'd always take a light backpack with me on my walks.  I'd make a sandwich
and carry a bottle of water and my first aid kit. For years after Nam I
carried a full field kit with me almost every where I went; especially when
I went hiking.


As you know, I love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and every other
sandwich I'd take with me was peanut butter and jelly.  One afternoon I
stopped to have my sandwich and some water.  I laid the sandwich down on a
log 'cause I had to take a leak.  When I finished, I turned around and my
sandwich was gone.  I looked all around for it but couldn't find it.  I
never heard a footstep or the scurrying of any critter that might have
taken it.  However, there was a faint lingering odor of Sasquatch in the
air.

Several days later the same damn thing happened.  I would turn my back for
a couple of minutes and my peanut butter sandwich would be gone.  I knew it
couldn't be a small critter or it would leave tracks and I would hear it.
Still I would smell the lingering odor of Sasquatch.  My suspicions were
aroused.

After it happened the third time I decided to hell with it I'd just pack a
couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I did that for weeks and
every damn time the sandwich would be gone.  Finally, one day I just sat it
on a log next to me and opened mine to eat.  I spoke in a normal tone of
voice and said,

"All right, I've got your sandwich here but if you want it you have to come
and sit beside me and eat it."

I started eating my sandwich and turned to see a small Sasquatch about four
feet high slowly approaching.  I smiled at him, picked up the sandwich and
handed it to him.  I thought he'd bolt for the bushes to eat it but he
didn't.  He came and joined me on the log and ate his sandwich with me.  He
was really grubby, even by Sasquatch standards.  So, I named him Grub.

That went on for a couple of months.  Then it got to where he would join me
on my walks.  He'd appear out of no where and follow me down the trail like
a puppy.  Sometimes he scared the shit out of me but I just laughed it off.
We would stop and have our sandwich and I would talk to him.  He seemed to
listen but of course never responded.  I didn't think he could.  I didn't
know they were capable of speech as we know it.  Many times I would pack
some fruit for him and me.  He especially liked apples and bananas.  I had
to show him how to peal a banana.  He'd never seen one before. I began to
call him 'Grub' and he would respond to his name.

I told Al and Frank about my new friend and they were astounded.  I told
Beryl and he was amazed.  Beryl knew me well enough to know I wouldn't lie
to him.  Finally, one day I asked Beryl if he wanted to take a hike with
me.  He agreed and we set out on the trail.  I thought we wouldn't see Grub
'cause Beryl was with me but I packed an extra sandwich and piece of fruit
just in case.  Sure enough after we were on the trail for a mile or two out
pops Grub from behind a tree.  I introduced him to Beryl.  He looked Beryl
up and down and decided if he was a friend of mine he must be okay.  Beryl
was amused by it all and kept giggling like a school boy.  He even got Grub
and me giggling until we were all laughing.

We sat down and had our sandwiches and fruit.  Grub sat in between us and
Beryl and I talked like nothing was unusual.  What was unusual about it?
Two friends were taking a walk in the woods and were joined by another.
The small one was a bit more furry than the two big ones but what was
strange about that?  Beryl didn't want his banana and gave it to Grub.  I
thought he'd bolt it down but he didn't.  He carried it with him until we
told him goodbye and later I found out he carried it home to his little
sister.

Beryl joined me for a week and Grub would meet us in a different place
every time.  We would greet him like we were really happy to see him and
he'd just smile real big.  One afternoon I was telling Beryl the story of
my accident and the Sasquatch who saved my life.

"Beryl you wouldn't believe it.  He was ten feet if he was an inch."

"Sounds like the same fellow who showed me where your bike was.  He had to
be at least that tall."

"He looked like a Sherman tank so I called him 'Tank.'  He even laughed at
me for calling him that." Beryl and I was laughing.  Suddenly we heard a
voice between us.

"Tank my dad." Grub said.  Beryl looked at me and I looked back.  Our
mouths dropped open.  We had no idea Grub could talk.

"Grub, we didn't know you could talk.  Why haven't you said something
before now?"

"You talk. Grub listen."  The perfect squelch from a pint-sized Sasquatch.
Beryl and I were so tickled we started laughing and couldn't stop. We got
Grub laughing and had a great time.  That was all we got out of him the
rest of the day and for several days after.  Beryl and I made a pact we
wouldn't try to draw him into conversation.  If he wasn't comfortable
speaking we wouldn't try to make him.  Besides, he had a way of letting us
know exactly what he wanted.  He knew he could get anything he wanted out
of us but we didn't care.  Beryl and I fell in love with him.  He may have
been God's grubbiest creature but to us he was the creators finest hour.
We couldn't talk about anything else.

About a week later it seemed Grub wanted to talk again. He told me he was
glad I got better from my accident because his dad told him he thought I
was a good man.  Grub told me it wasn't Tank who found me.  It was him.
 
"Tank is your dad, Grub?"  I asked him.  He nodded his head.

"Grub find you. Get dad." he said like it was common knowledge and no big
whoop.

"Well, then, I owe you and your dad my life, Grub, and I want to thank you
for that.  Would you tell your dad I will be forever in his debt and that I
appreciate what he did for me?  Tell him I hope to meet him face to face
again someday to thank him myself."

"Tank know."

"How could Tank know?"

"Tank with Grub all time."

"You mean he's watching and listening to us right now?"  I looked at Beryl
and he looked as puzzled as I was.

"Where is he.  We can't see him?"  Beryl asked gently.

Grub only responded by pointing to his conical shaped head with one
digit. Beryl looked at me and slowly shook his head.  I didn't know if Grub
was being cute or evasive.  The other thought running through my mine was
inconceivable.  Beryl saw the look of dismay on my face and grinned.  He
read my thought, shrugged and I read his. (Is it so inconceivable that they
might communicate telepathically?)  In a smaller way Beryl and I had just
done it. Is it our vanity that precludes us thinking a creature we first
observe as being way behind us on the evolutionary scale might have
developed talents we haven't?  Or worse, we once shared that ability and
lost it when we began to develop tools and technology.  Or perhaps the most
shattering to our civilization, we lost it when we invented religion.
Think about it.  Why would you need religion to assuage your fears of death
or prepare you for an after life if consciously you were immortal?  If you
knew without a doubt your spirit and memories lived on in your progeny
after your physical body runs out of steam, why invent a crutch?  In a
similar way, isn't that why we strive to have families, to leave something
of ourselves behind; to know our linage will be passed down?  In essence we
leave something of ourselves behind. Given, man is an animal, is it
mankind's way of marking the cosmos with his scent?

"He hears your head and you hear his?"  I asked quietly not knowing if I
was prepared for the answer.  Grub went on eating his apple but nodded his
head.

"Can you hear Beryl and Jess, Grub?" asking what I thought was the next
logical question.

"Not try. Jess and Beryl's head talk too much."  He got me again. I was
stunned but Beryl thought that was the funniest come back since Abbott and
Costello.  He finally got me and Grub laughing.  Then we heard it.  We
heard Tank's unmistakable scream.  Grub smiled.  Beryl and I looked at each
other and there was no doubt in our minds Tank was putting the period at
the end of the sentence. He just confirmed what his child told us."

"Dad, are you telling me...?"

"Yes, I certainly am. It took Beryl and I time to adjust and understand,
believe me, but they've proved it to us over and over again.  Why do you
think they can speak but haven't bothered to develop language?  They don't
need it.  Believe it or not they feel sorry for us because we're so alone
within our heads.  Tank and Grub sensed that about me from the beginning.
They could see and share what terrors I went through in Nam and it
devastates them.  They even ask me onetime not to think about such terrible
things. It made them sad.  However, to go one more miraculous step further,
if it weren't for Tank, Grub and their family I would've never recovered
enough from Nam to have a family of my own; which, I suppose, makes them
even closer to you family-wise."

Tank reached over and gently rubbed the hair on my dad's hair with obvious
affection.  Grub had been sitting by Big Beryl but got up and sat down next
to my dad.  Grub put his arm around him, Dad leaned into Grub and let
himself indulge in the affection from his friend.  I have never seen my dad
more radiant or happy as he was at that moment.  He just proved to me Grub
knew he reached a sore point telling his son about the horrors he lived
though; that Tank and he all ready experience all too vividly. This was
almost too much for me to take in.

It was like the lonely, troubled, but wonderful man who I grew up knowing
as my dad was suddenly being replaced by this awesome figure of a man. A
man who lived in several worlds unknown to almost everyone who knew him and
somehow managed to pull a rabbit out of the hat of his despair.  I leaned
even closer into tank's embrace and felt him take his huge hand and gently
caress my head as if to tell me it was all right.  This was a story I had
to hear, to know, understand and appreciate the depths of my dad's sorrow.
My admiration and love for my dad multiplied ten fold in one evening and I
was staggered with the knowledge of what he went though.  Dad sighed,
leaned back and relaxed against Grub's huge chest and continued.

"The only other people we shared our knowledge with was Al and
Frank. Fortunately, they believed us and couldn't wait for our return
everyday to hear the latest revelation.  Usually we made them wait because
it made for great, entertaining conversation over dinner.  The four of us
reveled in the thought that we were the only ones who knew these things
about our forest brothers.  Later we came to find out we weren't alone,
that many others knew and became as protective or more so than us.

Beryl told Grub one Friday he had to go away.  His visit with me had come
to an end but he would be back.  He would carry Grub's memory with him in
his heart where ever he went.  Grub didn't want to let Beryl go but seemed
satisfied that Beryl promised to come back to visit again.  That was the
beginning of a long, close friendship that is still as strong today as it
was then.  Beryl is the only man I know who can walk out and find these
folks within minutes and carry on a conversation with them.  They listen to
him, love him and respect him.  They know he would never do anything to
harm them and has proved it many times.

After Beryl left I continued my hikes into the forest and it was back to
just Grub and I.  For the first week I got very little out of my little
buddy.  I didn't push.  I felt if he wanted to talk he would.  The
following weekend I decided to take a longer walk than usual and Grub
dutifully trudged along.  I packed several things I knew he especially
liked.  He was really in a funk and I could feel the sadness coming from
him.

"You really miss our old friend Beryl, don't you?"  Grub nodded his head
and I saw a tear form and roll down the fur on his face.  I instinctively
put my arm around him and pulled him close.  That's all it took and for all
the world I held any human little boy who missed his friend.  He cried his
heart out.  It was the first time I ever touched him.  I tried to offer him
what comfort I could.

"Shuuu,... it's okay.  He promised he'll be back to see you again and he
will. He can't forget you.  Why, I'll bet he's think about you right this
minute. You're very special to him and I know you love him, too. You're all
he could talk about.  He'll be back before you know it."

The release of his feeling and sharing them with me seemed to help and he
began to get better after that.  He even bought along his little sister a
couple of times.  She was shy around me at first but after she shared her
brother's goodies and found I wouldn't push her she fit right in.  Grub and
I would have a good time with her.  She was and is a special little lady."
Dad waved to Grub's sister across the way who had two kids of her own.

That winter was a particularly cold one. I was worried for the family
because Grub seemed to be losing weight and I wondered sometimes if what I
was giving him was the only food he had for periods of time.  He wouldn't
tell me as much but I could see and expressed my concerns.  He never asked
for more than what I brought him but I noticed he began to eat only half
his food and the rest he would carry back to the family with him.  He was
sharing with his little sister and mother.  I began to make more sandwiches
and give him a paper bag full.

I got a letter from Beryl just before Christmas to wish me a happy holiday
and a message to read to his little buddy.  I read the letter and Beryl's
words to Grub one afternoon sitting on our favorite log.

Dear little buddy, Grub.

I hope this letter finds you well and happy.  I hope your family is doing
well this winter.  It has been a particularly long and cold one.  I don't
want you to think I've forgotten you.  I've told Jessie to read you these
words I've written on this piece of paper.  I wanted you to know I miss you
and think about you everyday.  I think about you every night before I go to
sleep. I will be back up there to visit with you as soon as the cold
weather is over.  I'm an old man. Cold weather and my bones don't agree
with each other.  Have faith that I will return to see my little buddy
then.  It isn't often a man has such a fine young person for a friend.

Your loving friend,

Beryl

Grub was ecstatic that Beryl would take his time to sent him a letter.  He
made me read it to him fifteen times or more and would linger over every
word.  I could tell at the end of our walk his heart was full.  The winter
was cold but he had the warmth of his friend's love to hold on to.

I began to load up Bessie and she would trudge up the trail behind me like
a puppy dog.  She and I became great friends and she got so use to the
family they never bothered her.  I would take all kinds of produce and
fruit several times a week.  I was spending all the money I'd saved from
Nam but it was worth it. Then I got lucky or maybe God heard my prayers. Al
and Frank found a group of folks who were more than willing to contribute
to our cause. A couple of supermarket managers gave us all their out of
date produce and meat products they were going to throw away. By the end of
that winter I met Tank and the rest of the family face to face.

Many times they were waiting for me at the point I usually left the food.
I would leave it with Grub so he could make sure scavengers didn't get it
first.  Fortunately, we didn't lose a member of the family from starvation
or the cold.  They all made it through that terrible winter.  By spring
Grub was beginning to pick up weight again and the rivers were teeming with
salmon.  The entire family began to gain back lost weight.

Beryl didn't get back up to visit until the first week in May that year. I
wrote to him several times telling him about our family and new surprises
weekly.  My letters were carefully coded so the average person would only
read about some man's regular family.  There was never any mention of
Bigfoot or Sasquatch, and they were, indeed, becoming more and more a part
of me and Beryl's extended family.

It seemed like the winter just wouldn't let go and April was the first
decent month we'd seen since September.  Six months of bitter cold.  I
never was one for cold weather and I suppose that's why once I moved to the
south I never wanted to return to the cold.  Anyway, Beryl returned the
first week in May.  I swear Grub knew he was coming.  Beryl is not one to
tell you he's coming.  He arrives, knocks on your door and will stay for a
month.  He could move in with us and I wouldn't mind. That Sunday the last
day in April, over sandwiches, Grub spoke.

"Friend Beryl be here tomorrow."  he was all excited.

"I haven't heard from him.  How do you know, Grub?"

"Grub hear him. Beryl near. Grub hear Roe-z."  was all he said.  Come to
find out Beryl spent the weekend with Rosey and was within Grub's range, I
suppose.  Sure enough, just as Grub told me, Beryl came riding up around
noon the next day.  I was sitting on the porch waiting for him with a
cardboard sign: "Welcome back, Big Buddy!"  He was laughing his ass off
before he even got off his bike.

"Did that little shit tell you I was coming?" he asked raising an eyebrow
in suspicion.

"Why else would I be sitting here on the porch waiting for you.  If I know
him he's up there on the trail within ear shot of us right now about to
piss his fur."

"Good!  Might clean him up a bit."  Beryl roared with laughter again as we
embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.  Al and Frank came out to
greet him but we didn't even bother to go into the house.  Al handed us a
care package and we headed for the trail.  We no sooner went around the
bend, out of sight of the lodge, when out pops Grub up the trail a bit.  He
came running to Beryl as fast as his legs would carry him. Beryl grabbed
him up in a hug and swung him around.  Grub was giggling and yelling with
joy. His buddy had come back to visit.  It was one of the most joyful
afternoons we ever spent on the mountain."

"Good day.  Beryl my buddy." added Grub, "Grub little then."

"Grub still little."  added Tank.  We all roared with laughter. Next to
Tank, he was little.

Beryl spent almost the whole summer with us and we got a hell of a lot of
things done for Al and Frank.  We would get up at the crack of dawn, work
our ass's off 'til almost noon.  Frank would feed us.  We'd lay down for a
thirty minute nap.  Al would have our care packages fixed and we'd head out
for the trail to visit with Grub and the family.  That summer the family
welcomed Beryl into the family without reserve.  One of Grub's little
cousins, a female, fell off the bank into the river.  No one in the family
knew how to swim. Maybe because when their fur got wet the weight would
drag them under. Beryl jumped in, clothes and all and pulled her to safety.
He was almost too late but he started mouth to mouth.  I ran to help but by
the time I got there she started breathing and had thrown up most of the
water.

Beryl became a hero to them. They got the idea he breathed his life force
into her to make her live again.  They thought she had come back from the
dead.  They were partially right but I explained to them she would've died
if Beryl didn't breathed his breath into her.  Her lungs were full of water
and needed air for her to start living again.  I know they understood
because latter we watched a young one revive his brother who almost drown.

That summer began an ongoing mutual admiration and respect that has lasted
between us 'til this day.  However, Beryl and I became sloppy in our habits
and allowed Grub and the family to let down their guard.  It almost cost us
Grub's life.

There was a real creepy guy staying in one of the cabins at Al and Frank's.
He was all the time dressing up in fatigues, taking his thirty-thirty and
going into the woods to hunt.  However, no one ever saw him bring back
anything.  It was like he was hunting for one specific thing and never
found it.  None of us thought much about it but we did warn the family
there was a creepy guy staying in a cabin at the lodge and be wary if they
saw him.  He had a gun and might be dangerous.

He struck up a conversation one morning with Beryl and I.  He asked where
we went every afternoon.  We told him we hiked up the trail toward the
gorge a ways every day for exercise. We told him about my bike accident and
I was still recovering; that the doctors told me to hike to get the
strength back into my legs.  He asked if he could go along with us sometime
and we sort of shined him on. Looking back, maybe we should've just let him
tag along and warned the family if he was with us not to show themselves.
They were pretty good about that sort of thing.  They trusted Beryl and my
word about other humans.

Well, unknown to us he began to follow us and obviously he must have seen
we had established a relationship with a family of Sasquatch.  It had been
sometime since we talked to him and nothing more was ever said.  Beryl and
I assumed he was going his own way when he figured he wasn't welcome with
us.  I even told Beryl we should've told him we were a couple like Al and
Frank and didn't want to share our privacy.  Hell, I knew old Beryl
wouldn't have a problem with that."  Dad winked at Beryl and he fell out
laughing.

"'At's true." Beryl laughed, "I ain't into men; however, if'n I could've
prevented what we went through I would've sucked your dad's dick like a new
born calf right 'ere in front of him."  Even Big Tank roared over that one.

That near fatal afternoon we were visiting and having a good time.  We
brought Bessie up with a load of goodies for them and it was a time a great
fun and joy.  I'd never seen the family look better or happier.  It was
getting late and we knew Al and Frank would have dinner waiting for us when
we got back.  We hollered at Bessie who had three young Sasquatch on her
back slowly riding them around the area.  She was having as much fun as
they were.  As time went on she became more and more sociable. They
reluctantly crawled off her and here she came.  She was ready to go home to
her warm stall and dinner.

We hiked back down the hill and Beryl and I were in great spirits.  We had
a wonderful afternoon and were talking about this and that.  We took Bessie
to the barn, wiped her down, fed her and went into the house to shower and
clean up for dinner.  It was dark by the time we sat down to eat with Al
and Frank.  We were sharing stories of the family and the good time we had.
They were always enthralled by our tales and experiences with them.  We
learned something new almost daily.  It was like they had become the four
of us's extended family and it bonded us together.

We just finished dinner and Al brought in dessert on a tray.  He almost
dropped it when we heard the most blood curdling scream at the back door.
I recognized it immediately as Tank.  I would know his yell anywhere.  I
knew it was him the other night welcoming us back to the mountain."

Tank squeezed my shoulder again, "Jess right.  Jess bring son for
Tank. Tank yell."

"We ran to the backdoor and outside.  There was Tank with Grub in his arms
with a big gaping hole in his right shoulder.  The cowardly little bastard
built a camouflage blind weeks earlier and was watching our every move
waiting for an opportunity to shoot Tank.  It was his ambition to become
the first human to bring a dead Sasquatch back for verification of a new
species. He had no idea about their beauty, their intelligence, or their
uniqueness. He didn't care. It was the universal story of greed; fame and
fortune.  He wanted his fifteen minutes of glory and didn't care who or
what he hurt to have it.  When he finally drew a bead on Tank, Grub heard
him in his head, saw the flash of his scope, found him out, saw the gun,
and watch as he pulled the trigger. Grub's brain went into protective mode
and he didn't think about anything but saving his father. He quickly
reacted, jumped up and in front of his dad and took the bullet.  It was
lodged deeply in his shoulder and hit an artery.  He had all ready lost a
lot of blood.  They didn't know to put pressure on the wound to slow the
bleeding.

I had my med kit in my back pack and hollered for Al to get it for me.  We
got Grub onto their huge screened in back porch and laid him on the carpet.
I was yelling orders to Frank, Al and Beryl.  They didn't question and
reacted as quickly as they could.  Frank brought a clip on light with a two
hundred watt bulb and clipped it on the back of a chair.  I couldn't see
the bullet but I knew it was still in there. It had to come out.  I had to
sanitize and cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding.  Al bought me my kit
and I got out some tools I'd need.  Then I noticed the blood from the wound
was slowing down.  My God, I though, he's running out of blood.  I have to
transfuse him or he'll go into cardiac arrest. I took his pulse and sure
enough it was weak.

"Guy's, if I don't get some blood into him he'll die."

"He can have my blood.  I'm "O" neg. Universal donor." offered Beryl.

"Yeah, but who's universe?"  he knew exactly what I meant.  Human blood
might not be compatible with their blood.

"Do you think I could get Tank to let me take some of his blood?"

"Are you kidding?  For his son?" asked Frank.

"Tank!" I barked at the huge creature.  Lay down here next to Grub!"  I
laid down next to Grub to show him, then I indicated he do it.  He didn't
hesitate and lay down.  I took my scalpel and cut my arm near the inside of
the elbow.  I drew my blood to show him.

"Tank I need your blood to put into Grub."  he looked puzzled.  I pulled
out my transfusion hand pump and showed him.  I showed him I needed to go
from his arm to Grub's.  He still looked puzzled.  I closed my eyes and
tried with my mind to show him what I needed to do.  When I opened them,
looked into his eyes I knew he understood and his eyes told me to proceed.
I cut some fur away from the inside of his arm, found a good vein and
inserted the needle.  He didn't even jump.  I showed him I wanted him to
open and close his fist.  He began doing it. His blood began to spurt out
the other needle.  I hooked the other needle into Grub's vein and slowly
began to pump Tank's blood into Grub.

We watched as the color began to come back into Grub's cheeks and the palms
of his hands.  It was working.  I felt his pulse again and it was returning
to normal.  The wound began to bleed freely again.  I had Beryl take over
pumping the blood into Grub and set about getting the bullet out.  It took
me almost thirty minutes to get that damn bullet out of him.  It was lodged
tight in his collar bone.  If it hadn't have been for Frank having a pair
of needle nose vice grips I don't know what I would've done.  Once I pulled
the bullet out I knew we were almost home free.  I cauterized the wound and
stitched him up with some gut.  I stopped the bleeding but I still wanted
more of Tank's blood.  He lay there the whole time softly singing his deep
rumbling song to his beloved son.  Finally, I figured Grub had enough of
his dad's blood to recover and I unhooked them both. Tank started to get up
but I wouldn't let him."

Tank squeezed my shoulder again and said,

"Dad Jess bossy man."  he smiled and we all laughed.  A little humor was
greatly needed at that moment.

"After a while I let him sit up.  Al handed him some juice to drink and
gave him a banana to eat.  I told him he had to eat and drink before I'd
let him up.  Here I am half his size giving him orders.  What a laugh."  we
all laughed at my dad.

"He was a good patient though and followed my instructions.  I think he was
thrilled because he knew Grub was going to be all right.  Finally we got
him up. Beryl picked Grub up and Frank threw an old quilt over the day bed
on the porch.  We lay Grub on the bed and covered him with another quilt.
Al had been busy all that time with hot towels and sterile bandages.  He
brought me a hot towel and I laid it across Grub's head.  I gently washed
and wiped his face.  His color was really getting better.  I told them to
let him rest.  He would be all right in a while.

I turned and stomped out the backdoor.  I nodded to Grub's mom and little
sisters as I stomped past and headed for the cabin the son of a bitch was
staying in.  I went to his door and damn near kicked it in with my boot. I
knew he was the last guest of the season and no one else was around to hear
or witness what I was about to do.  He came to the door with his gun in his
hand.  He pointed it at me with his finger on the trigger."

"What?  You gonna' kill me like you did that innocent child?"

"What child? That was a fucking wild animal.  I have a right to shoot
anything I please."

"You know what, you cowardly mother fucker, you're looking at as wild an
animal as you shot today and you better pull that trigger pretty damn quick
'cause he's about to kill your ass!"  I started for him not caring if I
died or not.  I was so angry I didn't care if the world went on another
day.

"No! No! Get back!" he cried but by that time I'd grabbed hold of the end
of his gun and pointed it to the ceiling.  He pulled the trigger and the
gun went off.  It blew a hell of a chunk out of the plaster ceiling;
however, I was able to wrestle it away from him and hit him in the gut with
the butt of the gun.  He doubled over and I hit him again with the butt of
the gun to the back of his head.  I kicked him in the side and groin with
my boot and was about to administer the coup de grace to his head, again
with the butt of his gun.  I raised it up high to make it one quick lethal
blow to his worthless skull when a giant furry hand grabbed the gun over my
head and took it away from me."

"Jess no kill."  said Tank.

"I stood there in frustration and started to cry.  I found myself, once
again, in Tank's huge arms crying my guts out. I knew he was right but I
would've killed the man.  I was so frustrated and angered at what he did
and was so ashamed of my race or tribe of apes.  That was the second time
Tank ever sang to me.  He sang to me, held me, healed me, wouldn't let me
go until he was sure I wouldn't kill the man and my mind was in a better
place.  For all the good things Tank ever did for me that was about the
best. I guess it was an even exchange.  I saved his son and he saved me
from myself."

"Dad Jess throw man's guns and all his stuff in river, brother Grub."  Big
Grub spoke to me.

"I wasn't going to tell him that part, Son."  Dad laughed at Big Grub.

"After I threw his stuff in the river I returned with Tank to the lodge to
find Grub awake asking for his dad.  Tank went to him and held him.  He
sang to his son the most wonderful song and there wasn't a dry eye on the
back porch or the back yard.  Tank told Grub I saved his life and now he
had to give him to me to be my son.  I was thrilled and proud to think Tank
would trust me enough to give me his son but I made a deal with him.  One
day, when I had a son, one I was sure I could be really proud of, who was
worthy enough, then I promised I would bring him and give him to Tank. That
way we could share each other's son.  Do you understand, now, why I gave
you to this big fellow, Son?"
 
"Certainly, Dad, and I'm proud and honored to have Tank as my dad; and,
Grub for a Big Brother. Most men only have one dad.  Big Grub and Little
Grub have two dads."

Tank pulled me closer and caressed me some more.  Big Grub had his arms
lightly draped around the front of my dad.  I could tell my dad was really
relaxed and enjoying sharing all this with me.  It meant a lot to both of
us.  I was quite convinced my dad was one of the most remarkable men on the
face of the Earth.

"How long did it take Grub to recover? I asked.

"Oh, hell, you can't keep that kid down for long," chimed in Big Beryl, "he
was up and around the next day.  We kept him in the lodge as long as we
could but we knew he wanted to get back to his dad.  The next evening Tank
came for him and we told him we'd be up to visit the next afternoon.  Your
dad didn't want infection to set in and he needed to remove the stitches in
about a week.  We made several trips up but Grub did just fine.  Jess
removed the stitches after five or six days.  He healed up real quick."
finished Beryl.

Dad asked me if I wanted another pull on his flask and I didn't refuse.  I
was so relaxed all ready I figured it would put my lights out.  After that
I got real sleepy and could barely hold my head up.  The next thing I knew
I was being carried by a huge creature to a bed of soft leaves and vines.
Dad followed with my sleeping bag unrolled it.  He helped me get undress
and crawl into it.  Tank lay next to me and pulled me to him.  He began to
sing to me in his deep bass tones.  It wasn't really singing.  It was a
rumble.  There were changes in pitch but it was like a resonance that
vibrated in tune with my soul.  It was beautiful, it was hypnotic, it was
relaxing, and it was wonderful.  I found myself drifting off to the deepest
most peaceful sleep I'd experienced in years; to sleep in the arms of a
monster my dad had given me to.

* * * * * * * * * *

I awoke the next morning looking into Tank's beautiful eyes.  Eyes that
spoke volumes.  I gently reached up and touched his cheek with the palm of
my hand.  He smiled and moved his face into my hand in a gesture of
affection.  He reminded me of Barney when I put my hand on his head. He
would move his head all around to get me to pet him more.  However, Tank
was far from a dog.  He was a highly complex, sensitive and peaceful,
sentient creature. I knew he could see to the bottom of my soul; certainly
into the being of my heart.  I was captivated by my new family. More so
than if I'd been captured by pirates and held for ransom.  I knew they
would become a major part of the rest of my life.

Dan and Big Beryl were right.  Tank turned away from me when I got out of
my sleeping bag and put on my clothes.  He was embarrassed for me and my
lack of fur. We joined the others in time to greet Al and Frank who came
over the rise into the campground followed by Bessie loaded with the fruit
Rosey sent to the family.  Bessie wasn't the least bothered by the young
Sasquatch who ran up to them to pet her and welcome her back among them.

Tank and Grub welcomed Al and Frank and helped them unload the sacks of
fruit.  It was a great breakfast for the family.  I was hungry too and was
going to finish the stew Frank made but they brought enough rolls and
goodies for everyone.  Al must have baked all night.  Beryl gently punched
me in the ribs with his elbow and pointed out Al feeding Bessie one of his
sticky buns. He looked up and saw us laughing at him.

"Well, hell, she's been on the trail for several hours hauling all that
stuff for us she deserves a treat."  We all laughed.


Al and Frank spent the day with the family and returned that afternoon.
Tank and Grub wanted us to stay so we agreed to stay over another night.
It was good we saved Frank's stew for the evening.  The family didn't eat
all the fruit Rosey sent and there was plenty for that evening.  We stayed
three nights with them and then returned the fourth afternoon.  There was
much hugging and touching.  I was amazed I had even become accustom to
their smell. (Apologies to Lerner & Lowe)

They escorted us all the way to the bend in the trail that leads down into
the valley where the lodge was.  Dad promised we would return the day after
to spend some more time before we had to leave.  Big Grub didn't want to
let any of us go.  Tank reminded him we had our worlds and they had theirs.
They waved as we departed.

We visited one more time stayed one night with them then returned the next
morning to the lodge.  We stayed one more evening with Al, Frank and Big
Beryl and then had to get on the road to return to Southern California.  Al
was right.  Dad and I threw our old clothes away; however, after cleaning
up I discovered I had become sensitive to their odor and found that now I
can tell instantly if a Sasquatch is anywhere near the area and most times
how many is in the group.

Over the years I find myself become nostalgic when I get the slightest
whiff of their smell.  I can now identify separate family groups by their
different but distinct odors.  As you might have guessed I have returned
many times and have lived extensively among the family.  They are as much
my family now as my parents and sister.

My dad accomplished his goal of letting go of his little boy. He brought me
into manhood the same time he introduced me to a new world.  For my right
of passage he gave me to a wonderful new family.  A uniquely loving family
who I am proud to be a part of.  At the end of that summer my goals were
not clear but my dad had shown me the path.  I knew in my heart I had
become a man. Even my mom and sister commented on my return I that I
returned taller of stature and much more mature and focused in my life.

My first introduction to the family changed my life.  I knew I had to do
something to assure their way of life so they might continue to exist in an
ever crowded and polluted world.  I spent many hours in deep conversations
with my dad, Big Beryl, Al and Frank as to what I should do with my future.
There were many suggestions but everyone left it up to me to decide my own
path. What did I do with my life?  I went to school and became a doctor.  I
have a second doctorate in primate anthropology.  I am considered the
worlds leading authority on primate behavior and medicine.

During my years in school I spent almost every summer at Al and Frank's
with the family.  Many summers I was joined by my dad and Beryl for a
couple of weeks. Mom, dad and my sister all made the trip to visit a couple
of times.  My sister couldn't believe they really existed and was as
fascinated by them as the rest of us.  It truly became party time when we
all got together. I came to appreciate Al and Frank over the years and
found there were no more loving and dedicated men than they.

Among my other duties I run a small clinic in the forest behind Al and
Frank's place.  It was a joint building effort.  Al, Frank, dad, Big Beryl,
me and a couple of locals who knew the family.  Best of all the family
helped us a lot. You can only imagine the lifting power of two ten feet
tall giants. The clinic is hidden so well you'd have to know where to look
to find it.  The average hunter or hiker will pass within feet of it and
never know it's there.

I have become the country's leading and most vocal debunker of Bigfoot or
Sasquatch sighting.  I give lectures all over the world on the myth of the
Sasquatch legends in which I hammer home my point that there is no such
creature as a Bigfoot.  I arrange for people 'in the know' to stage
demonstrations of how they fooled hundreds of people with big feet strapped
to the bottom of their rubber boots.  I try to make sure every year someone
dresses up in a gorilla suit and is caught trying to convince folks Bigfoot
is real.  I point out to the press and in lectures across the country these
multiple examples of hoaxes.

Why do I do this?  One reason is personal selfishness.  I don't care to
share my family with the world. Can you imagine the media hype to want more
and more coverage of these mysterious creatures? Money making entrepreneurs
who would offer a vacation package deal to spend a week living among the
Sasquatch?  We would kill them and destroy their unique culture with
overexposure.  It's my decided opinion they hear enough garbage in their
heads from the few that live in and around the area.

I don't want to see them exterminated like we tried to do with the American
Indians.  I don't want to have to go to a zoo to visit what's left of my
adopted family.  If it were found out they have abilities we don't can you
imagine the paranoia of the military mentality and their imagined threat to
national security? Whether they were a threat or not they damn sure would
make them one. I don't want any of them to suffer interrogation,
harassment, or worse, medical experimentation.
  
Can you imagine what it would do to the rabid, foaming at the mouth, bible
thumping, right wing fundamentalist for them to suddenly discover we were,
indeed, the product of evolution; when they find out there's another
separate, sentient species of bipedal ape who exists.  If they truly
believe we were made in God's image, then who made these beautiful, humble,
peaceful and loving creatures who look enough like us to be genetic cousins
and seem to have a far greater sense of right and wrong than the wise ape
ever did?

With their mental capacities it has often occurred to me, just perhaps,
they have the ability to plant suggestions in the minds of men of great
power.  Is it possible they have been the mysterious 'watchers' described
in ancient text?  Certainly the songs they've sung to me and others over
the years are nothing short of miraculous by our standards.  Do they have
the ability to sing their songs to the minds of a troubled world?  Are they
part of a grander scheme of an eco system ethos?  A slender thread, if
destroyed or broken would send the world into chaos.

Sometimes, when I'm deep in the forest with my family and having a good
time I tell my nine foot tall brother and ten foot tall dad the latest hoax
or contrived deception I've helped be a part of to keep them safe and
anonymous.  We have a great laugh together. My biological dad insists I
have, indeed, become my brother's keeper.


Copyright 2003 ~ Waddie Greywolf
All rights reserved~
Mail to: waddiebear@yahoo.com