A Different Journey

By Nelson Dahl

Eric McGrann is a young man who is filled with uncertainty as he enters the adult world of college and career decisions on the cusp of the 1960s. But his twin, who had shared an almost identical life before, seems to know exactly what he wants to do in life.

Watching his brothers progress only makes Eric more undecided. He is drawn to the ever-changing kaleidoscope of the world around him as he heads from his native Minneapolis to the West Coast to seek answers to questions he has not yet formed. Stopping first in Los Angeles and later San Francisco, Eric is drawn to several unique people who share their life views with him. In Los Angeles, he learns about love. In the Bay Area, he experiences the antiwar movement.

On his voyage of discovery, the love of a girl from his home town sustains him as Eric tries on more than one identity before he settles in Seattle. There, he finds himself and discovers his true passion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781491783566

Nelson Dahl

Nelson Dahl grew up in Missouri and obtained a liberal arts education. He later moved to Minnesota, where he lived and worked for several years before pursuing graduate study in philosophy at Southern Illinois University and eventually moving to Seattle with his wife and two children. He is an avid mountain climber, world traveler, and environmentalist. Dahl has written short stories, novels and many book reviews. This is his first published novel.

Book preview

PART I

CHAPTER I

T HEY WERE WALKING along the shore of Lake Nokomis in south Minneapolis with their high school sweethearts, Judy and Kathleen. Gordon and Eric wore their letter jackets, open in the warm wind, a wind that foretold spring, although the trees stood lifeless with their limbs bare, and old ice still floated near the north end of the lake. Gordon stopped and looked at Judy. I got accepted today. I’ll be at the Institute of Techno logy.

Judy was a slim, auburn-haired girl whose hips made little motion inside her plaid skirt as she walked. Oh, Gordie, she said, I knew you would.

What is he talking about? thought Eric. He and his brother had shared a bedroom for seventeen and a half years, yet sometimes he was the last to find out what his twin was up to. Gordon must have applied to the University of Minnesota already and been accepted. The sly devil! It was 1955. Eric and Gordon MacGrann would be graduating from their south Minneapolis high school in a few weeks. Eric hadn’t thought much about college yet. He was still basking in the warm glow of his high school experience, especially sports and his close relationship with his brother. And, of course, their girlfriends. He had been going steady with Kathleen since Thanksgiving. As they passed the beach, he imagined her in a swimsuit, hoping that, in a couple of months, he might get to see what the curly dark-haired girl looked like without clothes.

It had been an exciting senior year for the two boys, now both over six feet four, starring together on the basketball team, double dating in their family’s 1950 Chevy. Their adventures into the secrets of the female body had so far been limited to tussles in the front and back seat of that car amid layers of winter clothes or on living room sofas of the girls’ homes. Kathleen lived closer to the MacGranns, so, very often, Gordon would drop off Eric and Kathleen at her house, then drive on to Judy’s, which was farther away. After he and Kathleen had been necking and petting as long as they dared, Eric would walk home alone. Since Gordon had the car, Eric often wondered what his brother had gotten away with.

But in their bedroom at night, they would talk across the room from their twin beds, discussing and comparing the details of their girlfriends’ bodies. Their mother, Ingrid, had stressed the importance of protecting a girl’s reputation, which Eric believed he had dutifully done, while later it had occurred to him to wonder whether boys had any reputations to protect. He felt rather proud that Kathleen, in a moment of exceptional passion, had appealed to him, Oh, Eric, I’m depending on you to stop because I don’t know if I can. That made him feel responsible.

Has she ever touched your dick? Gordon whispered across the room one night when they were lying in their beds. Eric was in the midst of fondling himself.

No, he whispered, feeling self-conscious. Has Judy touched yours?

Tonight she did.

Really? How did she do that? Was his brother ahead of him again?

Oh, you know, we were just feeling each other up; my hand was inside her sweater feeling a little titty … you’ve felt tits, right?

Eric wondered if he should tell the truth. I’ve felt them a little bit, he said.

Her hand was rubbing my stomach, and her fingers slipped inside my belt and bumped right into it.

Jeeze! Eric was impressed in spite of himself.

I don’t think she meant to. I had such a big hard on it came almost to my belt. Her finger nails are sharp.

That doesn’t count, Eric said, if she didn’t mean to.

When I was kissing her at the door she said I must have a real big one.

She said that?

Yes. He sounded proud of himself.

Eric knew it wasn’t any bigger than his. He had compared them many times; their whole bodies were very similar. They had measured their erections with a ruler, and there wasn’t any difference. Twins. He was so aroused now that he couldn’t stop. When Gordon quit talking he finished himself off.

I heard you, Gordon said with a snicker.

Screw you. I know you do it in the bathroom.

Now you’ve got cum all over yourself, Gordon laughed.

Eric rolled over and went to sleep.

The only real difference between the twins was in their hair. Mother had explained that when they were born, Gordon’s hair was darker, more like their Scottish father, and Eric had light brown hair like their Norwegian mother. Hence the names, Gordon and Eric. Gordon had been born first, a fact he never let Eric forget. Big deal, Eric thought. Sometimes, when Gordon acted as though he was supposed to be in charge, he would say, But I’m older. He usually wanted to drive the car and decide where they were going. As small boys, they had some silly arguments, continuing until their mother would sigh and smile at them, saying, Oh, my dear boys, maybe we shouldn’t have told you. It doesn’t make any difference at all who was born first.

For the first eight years, they had been in the same classroom. And later, they sat in many of the same classes in high school. On the basketball court, they were considered equals. Their girlfriends were best friends. But now that Gordon was talking about his future, Eric was feeling uncertain about his own. He felt a bit left out. How could Gordon have decided already what he was going to do with his life? Eric couldn’t imagine, at seventeen, making such a commitment. Was something wrong with him? His brother had said that he and his father were shoveling snow one day, when Gordon asked him what would be some good jobs in the future. Kirk MacGrann was a mathematics teacher at their high school and had told Gordon that he thought the country was going to need a lot of engineers. So Gordon decided just like that? If Eric had asked Dad, he would have probably told him the same thing. Eric liked math and science well enough too, but there were many other possibilities to consider. The thing is, Gordon had told him, IT is a five-year curriculum, mostly required courses, so if you don’t start out in it your freshman year, you’re going to be way behind. And they flunk a lot of people out, too. When Kathleen asked him what kind of engineer he wanted to be, he answered, Electrical. Double E. Once again, cock sure.

Their parents were educated people, so Eric knew he was expected to go to college. Mom was a librarian at Macalester College in St. Paul and thought Eric might be better off in that smaller liberal arts school, especially since he didn’t know what to major in. If he went to the university, he wouldn’t see much of Gordon anyway. It was so big. Dad liked to give authoritative answers, so Eric felt more comfortable asking Mom for advice because she wouldn’t say anything definite. When you take a variety of elective courses your first year or two, she told him, you’ll probably discover what you’re most interested in. That sounded reassuring to him, so he finally applied to Macalester. The tuition was much higher than the university, but Mom believed he would get a discount because of her employment there.

Kirk MacGrann was a tall, slender man with dark brown hair and a distinguished look. He had begun his teaching career at the same school in the early thirties when salaries were pitiful, but at least he had a job, which enabled him to get married. Ingrid was a big-boned woman with fine blond hair. People said she carried a slight Scandinavian accent, more common in the previous generation of Minnesotans. Being three years younger than Kirk, she was completing a Master’s in Library Science when they met. Up until the twins were born in 1937, she had managed to find only part-time work at minimal wages.

Growing up in the post-war years, the boys had little understanding of the struggles people had endured during the thirties and World War II. They knew Dad had supplemented their income by taking summer jobs at hotels, doing bookkeeping. Somehow, they were able to put a down payment on the story-and-a-half Cape Cod house in the Lake Nokomis area just before the start of World War II. It was a nice house, with a big living room and dining room, their parents’ bedroom downstairs, and a small den at one end. The main bathroom was upstairs, and the boys had the rest of that floor to themselves. Kirk’s carpenter friend had removed the wall between the two original bedrooms, creating one large space. The front walls were vertical for just three or four feet with two dormer windows cut in the sloping roof, creating a feeling of coziness. There were attic crawl spaces, which were great for storing toys. Gordon liked to park their cars and trucks in rows. He would sometimes get upset when Eric didn’t respect the order. There was an ample backyard, but as the boys grew they took their ball games to a nearby playfield.

In many ways, the MacGranns were an ideal American middle-class family. Mother was always good natured. She loved to indulge her growing boys with freshly-baked cookies and favorite desserts. In the days before television and other indoor distractions, the boys were always outdoors after school, even on the coldest days, running around, kicking a soccer ball, inventing games in the snow, coming in at dusk with big appetites. At the dinner table, their parents might mention news events, but they never seemed to mind being interrupted. Dad, the teacher, liked to talk about the world in slightly cynical terms, often with a twinkle in his eye, as he sat back after dinner, puffing on his pipe. Mom, the librarian, had a more helpful nature. She would often treat her husband deferentially. Eric liked the way she sometimes hugged Dad after dinner because it softened him up. After the boys had started school, Ingrid was able to secure a full-time library job at Macalester, and the family got along well enough.

Toward the end of the war, Kirk and Ingrid were delighted that their best friends were able to buy the house next-door, a solidly built two-bedroom bungalow. Ingrid had known Dorothy and Winston MacLeod when they were students, and they were now teaching at the same south Minneapolis high school that Kirk taught at. She taught English and he taught history. They had a baby girl, a dog and a cat. Kirk liked to remind Winston that he had the same name as the famous British prime minister. During the warmer months, the two men would pull their lawn chairs together and sit around the back yard, drinking iced tea or lemonade and discussing the war. The two homes became quite open to each family, and they developed the habit of entering each other’s house with a quick knock, calling hello as they opened the door. Eric laughed when his mother was caught in her slip once. She scurried into the bedroom as Winston came through the kitchen door.

When the boys were old enough, they walked to the nearby playfield carrying a baseball, softball, soccer ball, or football, depending on the season. Sometimes, other boys joined them, but Eric and Gordon could always entertain themselves with their own invented games. On hot afternoons, they would go to the beach at Lake Nokomis. Once in a while, Mom and Dad would join them, but Eric could not remember seeing his mother in a bathing suit after he had entered high school.

Minnesota winters are long and tend to isolate even next-door neighbors from each other. People might wave while shoveling snow or on their way to their cars. The plows come by, making the walls of snow along the curbs grow higher. One forgets all about objects that may have been left in the backyard, buried until the spring thaw. One Saturday, after a heavy snowstorm, it was clear and cold, but the sun made everything sparkle as if in a Christmas card scene. Winston and Dorothy came over in their boots and stocking caps, pulling their little girl on a sled. Her name was Christel. She was bundled in a pink snowsuit with just her chubby white face showing. We’re going for a walk, Dorothy called from the doorway. Come join us. Eagerly, the MacGranns flew around, gathering boots, sweaters, coats, scarves, mittens, and caps. Dad looked dignified in his black fur cap. They walked to Hiawatha Park, crossed the golf course, and ventured out on frozen Hiawatha Lake. It was a winter wonderland. The boys raced around, throwing snowballs at each other. After a while, Dorothy became concerned that Christel wasn’t moving enough to keep warm, so she made her get off the sled and walk. The adults were amused as the little girl floundered on her short legs in the deep snow. On the way home, Eric and Gordon took turns pulling her on the sled, spilling her off a couple of times. The second time that happened, Mom scolded the boys for laughing at Christel as she lay in the snow whimpering. Back in the MacGrann house, Mom served hot chocolate and cookies to everyone.

Later, when Christel was older, she would come to the MacGranns’ backyard, looking for something to do. There were no kids her age in the neighborhood, so she would watch Eric and Gordon playing their various games, tossing a football, playing catch with a baseball, and shooting baskets.

Why do you call it ‘horse?’ she asked while the boys were shooting baskets.

Gordon laughed. Each time he misses the shot I made, he gets another letter: ‘h’ … ‘o’ … When he gets an ‘e’ he’s out. I win. Get it?

Why is it ‘horse?’ She looked puzzled.

Eric shrugged. Who knows? It’s just a game.

She wasn’t big enough to play with them, but sometimes, when Gordon wasn’t around, Eric let her follow him to the playfield where he kicked his footballs. It was the one thing he was definitely better at than his brother. Neither of them ever went out for football, but Eric, for some reason, took a fancy to both punting and placekicking a football. Gordon could kick a soccer ball pretty far because it was round, but he couldn’t get the knack of kicking the oval-shaped football, and didn’t seem to care. He would blast away, sending end-over-end or wobbly punts into the air, while Eric worked on the subtle skills of achieving long, high spirals. As he grew bigger and stronger, he could probably outkick anyone on the high school team, and the boys always let him kick off when they played touch football. Alone with Christel, he would kick each of his two footballs as far as he could, then watch her race across the grass like a little golden retriever, her blond ponytail bobbing behind. By age eleven or twelve, she had turned into a lanky outdoors girl, but then the boys went off to college and rarely saw her.

Following graduation from high school, the twins went to work for the summer. They had lined up jobs in construction with the same man their father knew who had done the work on their bedroom years before. He was now building new houses in the southern suburbs of Richfield and Bloomington. It would be hard, dirty work: shoveling gravel, digging ditches, pushing wheelbarrows, carrying lumber, and maybe getting to use a hammer to knock nails out of cement forms. They arranged a ride with one of the carpenters and spent five days a week laboring under the sun. Building is fairly seasonal in Minnesota. Foundations are typically dug in May, and the houses are ready for occupancy by autumn. During winter, the skilled carpenters would try to find indoor work remodeling older houses, but in the summer, there was plenty to keep two strong young men busy. Evenings, Gordon and Eric still had enough energy to get cleaned up and see Judy and Kathleen after dinner.

While Eric was slaving away on the job, his mind would sometimes wander back to his glory days on the basketball court. He could hear the cheerleader’s chants: "Gordon, Gordon, he’s our man, if he can’t do it, Eric can! Eric, Eric, he’s our man, if he can’t do it Peter can! … And his fondest memory of all: the day he sank two free throws after the final buzzer to defeat the powerful Edina team. His father sat at the official scorers’ table, one of his regular extracurricular duties, while coach Sanders gathered the team into a huddle at critical moments. Mom and the MacLeods sat near the front of the bleachers. Eric and Gordon usually went out with Kathleen and Judy for hamburgers after the game. Would he ever have days like those again? No, those days were over. His future was now uncertain … and in a much wider world.

They saved a lot of money that summer. With fall in the air, the turning leaves and the smell of wood smoke, they were off to their new campuses. They caught separate buses in the morning, Gordon to the university, Eric to Macalester. Often Eric rode with his mother, at least one way. The boys had talked about buying an old car together, but Dad convinced them it would simply drain away all their hard-earned money. Besides, they were going to different schools. Gordon was gone long days and would come home with his briefcase full of books and his slide rule. He spent the nights studying. Eric marveled at his dedication. When Christel asked Gordon that fall if he was going out for basketball, he had replied no.

But why, Gordie? You guys were so good!

You don’t understand, he said. The U is the big leagues. They recruit players from all over. Besides, I wouldn’t have time for sports. The varsity jocks usually major in something easy like Phys. Ed. or basket weaving, he said, laughing.

As it turned out, Eric wasn’t quite as busy as his brother. I think you should go out for the team, Gordon had told him. You should be able to play small college ball. That remark had felt a little like a put-down, but when the time came, he did try out and made the Macalester team, although he did not play much till his junior year, and he never became the star he’d been in high school.

They had both left their girlfriends behind. Gordon didn’t seem to have time for any social life. Eric managed sporadic dates with a few college girls, but never grew as close to any of them as he’d been with Kathleen. She went out of state to college the following year. He never saw her again. Years later, he would sometimes wonder where she was and what kind of life she was living.

CHAPTER II

T HE WEDDING TOOK place in a Lutheran church in the Cedar Lake area of west Minneapolis. It was a bright, sunny Saturday in June, 1959. Canoes were passing through the canal into Lake of the Isles, and the elms spread their stately limbs high over the streets like a canopy. The church was filled. There were a lot of people on the bride’s side that Eric didn’t know. He also saw friends and relatives of the MacGrann family, some that Eric hadn’t seen in years. Kirk was fifty, with graying temples, looking handsome in his gray suit. Ingrid wore a soft blue dress and looked nicer than Eric had ever seen her. Christel was there with her parents. She was modestly dressed, wearing glasses, which made her look rather bookish, Eric thought. She was now in high school and already taller than her mother. The twins stood together in their rented tuxedos, each a full six feet five now.

Somehow, Gordon had managed to meet Martha during his third year at the university. She was a local girl, majoring in elementary education. They developed a quiet but serious relationship that seemed right for them. Gordon had one more year in engineering, but Martha had just graduated and was looking forward to a teaching job in the fall, so it made sense to get married now. She could support them while he finished school. His wedding was an important milestone in Gordon’s life, and, as usual, he had planned it in a most practical way.

The music began. Martha came down the aisle slowly, on her father’s arm. She looked pale and slender in her long, white gown. Her hair, almost golden, hung straight down over her shoulders. Like a princess, Eric thought. She towered above the bridesmaid, a bubbly dark-haired classmate of hers named Carol. As Eric watched Martha approaching, her eyes beaming proudly at Gordon, he thought what a wonderful gift his brother was getting, a full five feet nine plus heels.

He had tried to get Gordon drunk at their little bachelor party the night before, but his brother had paced himself like a gentleman, insisting he must be in good shape the next day. At home that night, it had struck Eric that it was the last time Gordon would sleep in their room. From now on, their boyhood bedroom would feel empty, and Eric would miss their private conversations at night. They had already moved most of Gordon’s things to the duplex he and Martha had rented in Prospect Park, a mile from the university campus. All Gordon had left in his old room was the suitcase he would be taking on their short honeymoon trip, plus some old clothes and boyish things left in the closet and attic. Eric would be there alone, at least for the summer, as he and Gordon would be spending their fifth summer working for their contractor. They had advanced to the level of framing carpenters. There was one serious question he had asked his brother across the bedroom that last night: Have you guys done it yet? Gordon insisted they were both still virgins, technical virgins anyway. And they probably were, Eric thought, because his brother liked to do things the proper way.

Do you take this woman …? The minister’s voice had that full, well-modulated quality one expected. And Gordon answered I do with impressive confidence. Then Martha said I do in a softer voice, and the rings were exchanged.

The reception was held in the basement. Eric still had two duties to perform: first, to pay the minister with the ten-dollar bill Gordon had given him, then, when he received the signal, to go and get Gordon’s car. Gordon had made him promise when he handed him the keys that there would be no hanky-panky with the car, and Eric had been faithful, even though some of Gordon’s friends at the bachelor party had tried to talk him into tying tin cans to the rear bumper. The car had been one more example of Gordon’s judgment and perhaps of his good luck. After searching for weeks, he had located a beautifully preserved 1955 Chevrolet belonging to an elderly widow, which he bought for nine hundred dollars. Eric did not yet own a car.

In the basement, the line moved slowly. Everyone took time to congratulate the couple and the parents. Strangers wanted to know when Eric’s day was coming, but he just laughed and shook his head. Now that he had finished college with a B.A. in philosophy, he had no idea where he would meet girls. When the last guest had gone through the line, Eric took his opportunity to kiss the bride. Martha put her arms around him in a warm hug. You feel just like Gordon, she said, laughing. I’m so proud to be part of your family. She gave him a sincere look. And thanks, Eric, for all your help. You must come over as soon as we get settled.

Take care of him, he said, and he punched his brother on the shoulder. You still have to be first, don’t you?

To think that they’re twins, Martha’s mother said. Just look at them together. My, you must have had your hands full, she said, turning to Ingrid.

Ingrid smiled at her boys. You looked so nice standing up there together. And the tuxedos fit you so well.

One down and one to go, Kirk joked.

Eric smiled weakly.

Mom gave him a sympathetic look. Don’t worry, dear. You have lots of time. Did she think he was feeling envious? Was he? Martha seemed to genuinely want to be friends. But she was taking his brother away and would be replacing Eric in Gordon’s life. Eric felt a sense of separation and loneliness.

Photos were still being taken. Gordon looked at his watch. Hey, Eric, we’re going to say a few goodbyes, then we’ll change clothes and be ready to go.

I’ll get the car, Eric said.

It felt good to walk the few blocks to the garage where the car was hidden. What a gem: a two-door sedan, blue and white, not a scratch on it, the interior still almost like new. He envied Gordon going off in this car with a woman, and, of course, he was thinking about what they’d be doing that night. Gordon had shown him the colorful brochure of the resort in northern Minnesota. You’re the only one who knows, so don’t tell anybody, Gordon had said. It’s beautiful, Eric told him, but you’ll probably spend all your time in your room.

We’ll go swimming in the pool, Gordon said, grinning.

Eric stopped the car in front of the church, feeling like a chauffeur. Their luggage was already in the trunk and the gas gauge was on full. He opened both front doors and got out.

They came through the crowd, laughing. Martha wore a summer dress, Gordon a new sport shirt and slacks. Don’t forget to eat, someone yelled. Martha was blushing. Gordon helped her into the car and went around to the driver’s side. Eric gave him a last slap on the back. Amid cheers, they drove away while everyone waved. Eric stood for a moment, feeling an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

Someone was calling his name. He looked down and saw Carol, the bridesmaid, still in her fancy dress.

You know about the party, don’t you?

He didn’t.

At Martha’s uncle’s place in Minnetonka, right on the lake.

He looked interested.

She leaned closer. They’ve got a beautiful house and a boat. I’m sure there will be lots of food and booze. She grinned mischievously.

What time?

As soon as we get there. Change into something comfortable and come on out. Hey, Bill. She called to one of Gordon’s friends. You know the way, don’t you? Can you take Eric, since you’ll be coming back?

* * *

That night, Eric became the drunkest he had ever been. It was a post-wedding party, a college graduation celebration, and an introduction to suburban affluence all rolled into one memorable bash. It didn’t matter that most of the faces were unfamiliar when he and Bill arrived; he was treated like family, almost like the guest of honor because he was Gordon’s twin. He had partied with Bill the night before, and Carol was suddenly acting like an old friend even though he’d never met her before and didn’t find her particularly attractive. But she sure loved to party. Most of the people were friends and relatives of Martha’s parents, who stayed long enough to get something to eat, and left, apparently not being the partying types the hosts were.

Eric was greeted warmly by Martha’s aunt and uncle, the Williamses. Everyone called them Bert and Nell. Their home was situated on the shore of Lake Minnetonka, about ten miles west of the city. It was a big white two-story colonial with a rolling, tree-shaded lawn extending down to the water’s edge. They looked younger than Eric’s parents and were already well-tanned, with trim, athletic bodies in fashionable sports clothes. Nell was a honey blond, petite and vibrant. Eric decided she was the first woman over forty he had ever thought of as sexy. They introduced him around, showed him the Jaguar roadster Bert kept in the garage, and took him down