The Blonde, the Brunette, and the Redheads

By Ronald J. Mulhearn

Dan Holloran is a very naive and misunderstood young man. Having been an obedient, good boy all his life, he rebels against his approaching thirtieth year. He divorces Barbara and seeks to discover his capabilities with women and life as a very active member of the Ski Club in Baltimore.

Dan learns lessons about love and life in his process. Both can be good or bad. Dan learns from single women who are familiar with the realities of life. These women provide him with sober lessons.

While sobriety is offered as a way of life, Dan chooses to continue his journey on a pathway to Hell. He does not believe in Hell so continues his love affair with alcohol. Many available women feel jilted by him and leave his life. Dan finds sanctuary with a group who become his undoing. Paradoxically, they become his family as he experiences love like he never had before.

Dans family is the Irish American Defense League. His brothers are Jimmy, Biff, and Grunt, the Head of the IADL and his BullDogs. Dan builds a team of five women and a sixteen-year-old orphan boy. They become a Hit team of which Dan is the Lead. The team feels justified as they eliminate pedophiles and child abusers. Dan learns that there is no justification when one loses their soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524528829

Ronald J. Mulhearn

Ronald J. Mulhearn was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York and Valley Stream, Long Island. He graduated from Brooklyn Technical High School with a college prep and electronics diploma. After four years serving in the Vietnam-Era US Navy, Ron attended and secured a B.S.C.S. degree with a minor in English from Loyola College at Baltimore. Ron’s dream has always been to write a novel, but his fifty-plus hours per week in the Military-Industrial Complex only allowed him to write a box-full of Journals. Many ideas for this book came from his journals. Ron still likes to Ski, hike, camp, exercise, travel, dance, cook, entertain, and socialize. He truly wishes you enjoy and learn from his first book.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

She came into the motel room unannounced on a Saturday morning. The door opened to the sweet Autumn air of Silver City, New Mexico. Upon her arrival, she caught him almost literally with pants down. He was in sleeping shorts and T-shirt, very comfortable in mid-September.

She smiled very prettily and said, Are we gonna have sex?

Dan had been drinking shots with beer chasers the night before at his motel bar. He had approached every single woman in the bar and still slept alone. He had been sleeping alone for some time. Dan was no longer the stud he had been in the Ski Club. Booze and Time had caught up with him. He was properly hung over, and he was shocked by her unexpected arrival.

Dan Holloran did not get the joke. She sounded serious in an off-handed, little girl wants candy but does not care, take it or leave it sort of way. Like many jokes, her joke was based on truth.

No, Annie, he replied, You sweet and adorable girl. I could never do such. I love you like a sister. You should know by now.

Annie Napoli … a solid yet petite lady with long strawberry hair, creamy-tan skin, buxom build … asked the question. It was meant to be a joke. A joke of sorts because she assumed, as a lady, a woman never enters a man’s room without expecting some mischief. Her delicious-looking lips and juicy brown eyes gave a hint of impishness in her.

He called her Friday to say he was in town. Dan explained he needed a break from the bliss of living in an RV park located somewhere in the Gila Forest. As an early sixty-something, he was somewhat younger in what seemed to be a retirement resort. The population was pleasant, yet parochial. He hated the whispers as a single man living among many married-retired couples. The small-community buzz pictured him a heavy drinker. Even though it was true, he tried to keep it to himself. Prying eyes and gossip were inevitable in such a small and closely-knit environment. He felt like he was being examined by overly zealous female doctors dissecting his privates.

His excessive drinking had developed over time. He was in the fourth stage, the destructive one. At stage 4, one cares not anymore and only wants the satisfaction of buzz. There were no excuses for it. The drunkard is distasteful to all with whom he or she comes into contact. What most people do not realize is they are crying for help. Conversely, most people shun drunkards; and thus, the drunkard goes into further isolation and consumption of alcohol. It becomes their best friend, comforter, and consoler. Then … they die. The drunkard is not a bum. He / she is a victim of self-consumption.

Dan had demons … plenty of them. He also had entities spinning around him, dependent on his drinking. Entities would re-enjoy their own misdeeds while on Earth through Dan’s drinking. Dan still believed in God and prayed when he remembered to do so. Dan hated Christmas. It was the time when all his demons arose to torture him. The second best was remembering Holy Mary Elementary and the Sisters. His knuckles were raw from the ruler hits on them. Then there was Sister Teresa, a ‘bleepin’ Amazon. There were also tough guys with the slicked-back hair. They found Dan had no stomach for fighting.

Dan had holes in his floor. He produced them by a Taurus PT-92 AFS 9 mm parabellum semi-automatic pistol. When he was pissed, he shot his gun. What a sensiitive ‘Baby’ he could become. Dan was a peaceful guy … not … He was also a killer, courtesy of Irish Mafia. It was not just Irish, but also Greek, French, Isreali, even German; but Sicily was the Boss without a doubt.

Dan, as a Kid, had hurt his friend Jimmy Wakoviack in a fight, and it hurt Dan’s feelings to hurt someone. The bullies piled on him. Dan would take side streets or peek around corners to avoid the tough guys. Dan did not discover his power until later. If he had fought back then, he would have literally killed them. Dan would not have control over himself; he would keep beating the creep until dead.

So he embraced alcohol. Forget twelve steps. His experience with them and thoughts about them were they were a bunch of unreasonable fanatics, almost cult-like. There was no way to reason with them or explain excuses. So Dan needed a respite from the pious, saintly, and hypocritical people who judged him for trying to have a good time at his RV park. There were plenty of closet drinkers at such a park. They were ‘bleepin’, Goddamned hypocritical assholes!

Dan had met Annie some time before, in one of the abundant art galleries in Silver City, the Southwest part of the Southwest. She was from Chicago via Manhattan. He was from Tucson via Brooklyn in what seemed like a hundred years ago. They were both New Yawkers in a sunny and dry yet lush and foreign land. Dan and Annie had symbiosis.

CHAPTER 2

Prior to an innocuous meeting in Dan’s room, Dan had admired Annie’s works on display in a premiere art gallery. There were other galleries, many of them, who presented plenty of avant-garde works. Only the most well-considered works made it into this gallery. Discretionary rich alone could afford these works. Dan had stumbled into the gallery while he was exploring Silver City as a still somewhat new resident. Dan was a retired engineer, a nerd, not an artiste. Dan asked Annie about her huge art work, the largest in the gallery. Annie was excited to explain her vision to him.

The Whales. Annie’s art expressed images in abstract, like dreams from reaches of the subconscious mind. Whales, porpoises, and dolphins swam playfully in a purple and blue-green ocean. The depth determined the color as bottom creatures such as crabs, eels, and clams existed in harmony. The green surface turned bright as a full moon shone upon it. The stars twinkled pastel colors. A sandy white beach was full of people of all ages. There were old people, young people, and children, playing together on the brightly moonlit beach. They composed a harmony one could not explain in words, Angels playing among the beach clouds enjoying secrets, only Angels can enjoy. All were painted in minute detail and were joyful … no cares, no judgments. Even the rocks and sea grass were happy. The painting made everyone smile. Peaceful and playful Whales and company were primordial life in Universe-provided origins. It was definitively New-Age Art. Dan enjoyed both Annie’s personal introduction and New-Age ideas.

Annie was on hand at the gallery to describe her works and, of course, sell them. Dan asked her to dinner to get to know her better. She had just met him, but she liked what she saw and his manners. Annie was known more than once to take a dare. She surmised if he was a retired engineer, as he told her he was, and living in a retirement RV park, he was not a threat. Besides, he had the prettiest blue eyes she ever saw.

They visited the best restaurant in Silver City, New Mexico. He had a Manhattan straight up. She had a Chardonnay. The waiter left them alone as he could tell they were deep into conversation. Silver City was like that. There were many sensitive people and artists who knew how to treat nice people like Dan and Annie.

He asked her, How did you learn to paint such wonderful stuff?

Easy, she responded, I aced finger painting in kindergarten.

No, really, he objected.

It’s one of those things. It comes naturally to a person. At age three, I was drawing trees, flowers, birds, Mommy & and Daddy, you know, all the kid-stuff.

Yeah, he said sardonically, but all kids do that. It’s like throwing sand in the sandbox. Dan was off-base.

She righteously defended her talent with a strong and abundant amount of emphasis.

Not at my level they don’t. I was drawing on the level of a sixteen-year-old. My mother showed my work to an art teacher she knew. The teacher watched me draw. She gave helpful hints, but did not instruct. She told my mother to let it progress. It did, and I was trained at Peter Stuyvesant High School and the Pratt Institute.

You went to Stuyvesant? Dan got very excited at the news. Wow, I went to Brooklyn Tech. Both were honors high schools in New York that required an entrance exam, like baby SATs.

Dan went on, I had a friend who went to Pratt. He was into commercial design. He painted a long horizontal psychedelic poster in Day-Glo paint and stretched the length of my parents’ basement. We threw a party together back in ‘’68 and invested in black lights. Just as the party got going, we turned off the real lights, waited a few moments, and turned on the black lights. What a hoot! The whole basement lit up in Day-Glo. Everyone freaked out. Their freaking was in delight as a Hippie would be if he or she dropped Acid, a.k.a. LSD. Deanna, the big-busted flirt, enjoyed everyone watching her bra glow through her loosely knit white wool sweater. The guys were eyeing her as the sweater already exposed enough.

Oh yeah, the poster is easy to believe. Pratt had many facets of art to choose from. Back then, Free-Form art was especially encouraged. Their mutual educational experiences tore down the wall. Dan was relieved the train was again back on track. His comments about throwing sand were forgiven.

The waiter showed up to take their orders.

Dan requested, A double Manhattan please, and a bottle of your best Chardonnay. Dan then queried, Miss. Annie what would you like to eat? She surprised him. "I would like the Western Cattleman’s preferred Steak for two.

Uh, waiter, what is your name?

My name is Jarmaine, sir.

Dan got up and shook his hand. Well, hello, Jarmaine, my name is Dan and the lady is Miss. Annie. I am enjoying your service very much. A good Manhattan will inspire one onward to be friendly to almost anyone. Jarmaine was good people, no problemo.

Mister. Jarmaine, please change the order for a bottle of Chardonnay to a bottle of California Merlot. May we please have the Western Cattleman’s preferred Steak for two?

Annie was not a hippie. She was a meat-eating New York killer woman. Dan had experience with the phenomenon. He loved every minute of it. Dan had met many women who sensed his proclivity for being dominant. He loved the challenges they gave him to prove they were the dominant sex. If they only demurred, Dan would have agreed. Women were the dominant sex. But no, Dan actually had Karate fights with some of them. He did not hurt them, of course, but he did put them down most times. Superiority is a respect earned, not fought for. Dan worshipped the Holy Trinity. Dan also worshipped Karate, weight lifting, and jogging (aerobics). As a mental exercise, Dan kept journals. His journals contained thoughts, feelings, and desires.

Annie and Dan shared memories of riots at Columbia University, the burning of the student union at City College of New York, the decrepit sight of 42nd Street, and the beauty of Central Park, especially the Zoo and the Carousel. New York City was a magical place where both were happy from which to be away. If you were too sensitive, like they both were, N.Y.C. was not the place to live. Dan thought about it. Maybe being too sensitive was a fault of its own, maybe too self-consumed? The most charming people in the world were in N.Y.C. Dan shook the thought off.

So, where do your ideas come from? Dan asked. "I mean the Whales is very spectacular. A lot of action, color, and feeling."

I look around and observe many people, places, and things. I love nature in all her forms. A lightning storm is as beautiful as a cloud-shrouded sunset. Of course, here in the Southwest, you can actually see the sun set on the horizon. I take what I see and expand upon it according to my imagination.

Jarmaine arrived with Dan’s Manhattan and popped a bottle of fine California Merlot, wine opened like an expert bartender. Both Dan and Annie laughed. Jarmaine poured a glass of red wine for Annie.

Dan, what do you do? Annie implored.

Dan replied, Oh, I’m just a retired old-fart now. I spent many years as a sub-contract programmer in the defense industry. Most of the computers and programming languages were company proprietary. While based on standards, quick learning was required. I prided myself on the fact all my jobs were ‘defensive’ in nature, like radar or avionics. My last job was ‘offensive’ in nature. I spent ten years there, failed to keep up with the rapidly-changing technologies, and called it quits. Most PC users can run circles around me. I never played with PC’s since the last thing I wanted to do was come home to a computer. He did not add he enjoyed coming home to a double Manhattan.

No, silly, she said, "what do you Do?"

Oh, … he laughed … Silly me, still thinking like a school-boy. KISS, you know, Keep It Simple Stupid. Well, I have caught up on a lot of reading. I’ve always wanted to do it but never seemed to have time. Defense work requires globs of overtime.

So, all you do is read? She looked astonished.

Dan was startled at his apparent inadequacy.

Please, don’t short change reading. I do it on my deck overlooking the Gila Forest. We have mule deer in the park that will take an apple chunk right out of your hand. I also do a lot of thinking. I’d get a part-time job in town, but we have a road ‘dicey’ enough to kill a car on a daily commute. You need a Hummer or a Jeep for ‘the road’.

Annie interrupted him, I’m sorry, Dan. I did not mean to put you on a defensive posture, or embarrass you.

No, no, you are perfectly fine, he replied. Dan felt as if he were tap dancing on a pond of thin ice.

I have become killer at Scrabble and play Nickels like one of the ladies. I get beaten on a weekly basis in Cribbage by a very sweet eighty-five-year-old lady. I also volunteer to cook Saturday breakfast for the entire RV park on a monthly basis.

He no sooner said all of it when he realized the hole he was digging was his burial plot. Dan was crazy about the idea of dating a successful artist, a new experience for him. He did not want to blow the first date. One of the very few dates that did occur as one gets older, like sixty-five.

Annie was about to respond when Dan stopped her.

No, wait. I lift weights three days a week and walk three miles the other three days. We, the neighbors and I, take ATV rides out in the forest. Those rides can be very exciting on the eroded trails, the hills, and the potential for lions and tigers and bears … ‘oh no’, not to mention angry bulls. I shoot pool with Bart, the expert at the clubhouse, and play poker with the boys every Friday night. I used to be an expert Skier some years ago, but I have trailed off on it. I’m also a certified diver, but I have not done so in a while either. Guess I’m pretty boring, eh?

No, Dan. She smiled her sweet smile. I find you very interesting, very stimulating, and, most importantly, very sweet.

‘No burial today’, he thought, but it was a rather deep hole he had dug.

Jarmaine showed up with a second wine glass for Dan and poured both of them wine. He then delivered the juiciest steak either Annie or Dan had ever experienced. It was accompanied by baked potatoes, cheese-covered broccoli and cauliflower, and salads. It was the best meal ever enjoyed by either of them. They were both smiling as they enjoyed the feast.

So, how about you? What do you do besides painting?

She was prepared for his question.

Like you, I take long walks in the country and meditate while I do so. I attend yoga classes three days a week, take Spanish lessons at Western New Mexico University (WNMU), catch the talks and lectures in town at various places, and meet with other artists on a regular basis to share coffee and ideas. Sometimes I’ll take a long drive in the country and observe the different colors and textures of the scenery. I’ve explored the offerings of Las Cruces, Deming, and Lordsburg. I have visited cafes and bars in Bayard and Hurley to get the gist of living there from the miners. Sometimes, on a whim, I’ll camp on the beach at Elephant-Butte or take a day trip to someplace like Cliff, Gila, Buckhorn, or Reserve. Of course, there is always an Art, film, music, harvest, balloon, wine, or some other kind of festival to attend. This is a pretty happening place, without the hassles of Chicago.

Dan felt like he allowed himself to get locked-up in his RV park. He realized he needed a mountain vehicle, but those cost money his bank account would protest against.

Annie had come to Silver City to escape the craziness of Chicago; as Dan had come from Tucson to escape the California-style growth. Neither expected a possible relationship. Here they were in an unexpected place both enjoying dinner and drinks. Who’d a thought …?

Annie’s Italian-Swiss-German background allowed her to be interested where others would have moved on. She found after some talking and probing questions that Dan was a complicated guy, but her love of art encouraged her to be curious and to explore. She enjoyed puzzles and complications.

They continued talk about the Southwest climate, the different cultures, and a touch of politics, but not much.

Dan took delight in watching her rejoice at her steak; she was enjoying it so much. He looked at her admiringly and caught something he had not seen before. With a stretch of his imagination, she looked like an older Raquel Welch with juicy brown eyes. Annie’s hair was its natural auburn color. The effect could not have been greater, but she was Annie in her own way.

After dinner, Dan allowed himself an orange liqueur and a cup of tea with lemon. Annie had espresso. He was worried about driving, but the evening allowed him to break his own rule. New Mexico had very strict laws concerning driving under the influence. Dan decided that driving for him was out.

He walked her to her car. Dan had drunk the lion’s share of the wine, so he did not worry about her driving. She thanked him for a wonderful evening. He leaned forward, and she allowed an abbreviated kiss on the lips. They would date again, much to his relief. The under taker was cheated of his ransom. Their dating did not work out well at all. Dan had become too much of a free spirit for any one woman. Annie was somewhat of a free spirit herself, but she wanted a male partner. She saw Dan as a perfect candidate. He would need polishing and perhaps a few new strokes of paint. Unfortunately for her, it was not going to happen with Dan.

Dan walked across the street and checked into the Palace Hotel, an historic Silver City landmark. He then walked to the Buffalo bar and had drinks with the bikers. His head was spinning from enchantment provided by his company with Annie. She was beautiful … drop-dead … beautiful in all ways.

Same thought scared Dan in his tracks. She would want him as her partner. It meant lifetime commitment. The thought of it made him want to run away to New Zealand.

So it was, on a clear and beautiful Autumn day, Annie was visiting Dan in his motel room as a friend. Dan suggested they walk to town and visit the shops. It was absurd that Dan did not latch onto her.

CHAPTER 3

A genteel town, the people of Silver City were very courteous and friendly. It was a boom-town in the 1800’s. There was always copper-mining, but in 1870 a silver strike bestowed the name, Silver City. The main street was buried by a flood in 1895 and turned it into a river canyon called the Big Ditch. William Bonney came from Silver City; a replica of a boyhood cabin complete with rifle ports was at the Visitors’ Center. Copper came and went in price, as did the population. New-Age Karma existed, as did a plethora of healing people in an abundance, similar to Sedona, Arizona. A Vortex included the loves, passions, questions, wishes, hopes, dreams, and understandings of the Universe. The aging flower children flourished well there.

Silver City hosted Pickamania on a weekend in September, 2009. The billing promised a concert of Bluegrass, Country-Western, and Folk Music. All music was to be played using only stringed instruments. The musicians played guitars, banjos, violins, cellos, dulcimers, sitars, and a variety of home-made stringed instruments. The only exception to the rule was drums. All music was played from the gazebo of Gough Park. The audience either brought lawn chairs or blankets. All enjoyed the music and sweet Autumn air. No alcohol was allowed except in the Beer Garden. The garden was way across the street away from the park. It seemed like the drinkers either drank beer or listened to music, but not both. No one thought to wire speakers into the Beer Garden.

Dan and Annie walked to, and enjoyed a day of touring, shopping, and attending the concert. The town had some very interesting little shops. One boasted Christmas decorations year round. It had an old-fashioned candy store in back and served Mary-Janes and Black-Jack candies that were thought to be of a former era.

"How do you like the Tootsie Rolls?" Dan asked.

These darn things always stick to my teeth.

Yeah, I know what you mean. I always roll my tongue around the stuff and make little balls out of them.

I hope it’s not a personal thing. She giggled.

Another shop on Bullard Street (named for founding father John Bullard) featured vintage 1930’s to 1960’s ladies’ clothes. The mannequins were dressed in old styles, like Jean Harlow in Public Enemy or Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

Annie was dressed in her Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts with huge side-pockets, like a Safari hunter. The Panama hat added to her glamour, as did the shin-high leather hiking boots. The boots were accentuated by an unmatched pair of knee-high striped socks of different colors. It was Annie in her own style, a woman who, with her juicy brown eyes, could get anyone to tell their story.

Dan was wearing his red flannel shirt and old beat-up jeans, cowboy boots, and … just for fun … a Bolo tie. These were his mountain clothes, quite a switch for a way-former Brooklyn boy. They relaxed on the grass of Gough Park. She nudged closer to him and held his hand. She hoped to crack his shell.

Although Annie was soon bored with the Country-Western, she liked the Folk and Bluegrass very much. There was just not enough of both for her. It was anything goes so long as it had strings. A real back-woods Appalachian kick-ass band took the stage. It turned out to be a boot-stompin’, ass-humpin’, beer-drinkin’ band. Thoughts of the movie Deliverance came to Dan’s mind. Most of the audience got up and started Clogging, a country dance similar to the Irish Jig, just the kind of music to get everyone moving.

You had enough? she asked with little-girl eyes.

Yeah, let’s go, he responded. Dan would have preferred otherwise.

They walked to Dan’s room where he fetched her a soda pop and proceeded with shots and beer-chasers. As his conversation became louder, he could feel her growing concern. It was new to her.

‘He drank sparingly in the past, so why the free-fall now’? she wondered. She was disappointed that he showed such disrespect. ‘Hell, he can drink all he wants when I leave’, she thought. With that thought, she excused herself and left.

He was perversely pleased with her leaving. He would not have to deal with a romantic entanglement, but he cared about her very much, or so he thought. His life was full of swords in his heart. He no longer had the stamina to entertain one real romance. A fling here and there was preferable to the dominance of a woman.

The swords, however, were self-inflicted. His behaviors induced swords. He witnessed a poorly-dressed woman lose two $1 bills at the check out of a convenience store. Dan scooped them up. The woman returned in distress, looking for those $2 like they were the last piece of rope she had to hang on to. Dan should have given them to her, but he did not. Then there was the time in Germania where he bought booze on his way to his RV. A huge farmer man was in line before him. Dan had presented a bag of ice with his purchase. The farmer man paid his bill and dropped a $10 bill upon his departure. Dan wasted no time, he scooped the bill before anyone knew what was happening. Dan paid his bill as the farmer returned to search for the missing $10. Dan scooted. The lady yelled, Sir, you forgot your ice. Dan sheepishly returned to grab the ice bag and quickly scooted. They all looked at Dan as they knew he had the $10. Why, Dan asked himself a zillion times, ‘did I not return the money to those who lost it’? The guilt was not worth the money. His conscience was going to kill him.

CHAPTER 4

What Dan really feared was a good woman placing a muzzle on his drinking habits. He saw husbands whose wives had placed pacifiers in their mouths. Dan was not going to wear diapers and be mothered to death. Dan chose subconsciously to die by drink instead. He lost many good women over the very issue. His freedom to drink was going to cause him a very lonely death.

Dan suddenly had an urge to declare his independence. No one was going to tell him how to live. Dan did not know how many people were hurt by watching his self-destruction. He was motivated to go out and show the world how he could succeed without all their endless advice. Dan showered, shaved, dressed, and felt pretty damn good. He stepped back and looked into the mirror where he saw something quite different. There he saw a beggar that looked like him, stared back at him, and was him. The beggar held out his hands and begged for pearls; mere coins were not good enough. The beggar also wanted gold coins, but if granted, they would not be good enough. The beggar wanted something he did not know what he wanted.

Dan wanted unconditional love. Dan did not know what was real love was, and he was not capable of giving unconditional love. One can give or cannot give.

A sense of uselessness came over him. "Ah, Annie, why did I sabotage your love with my display of alcoholic gluttony? he cried out loud. How can I be such a cold-hearted fool? The mirror heard every bit of this and smiled at Dan. The mirror wanted to shout, it serves you right!"

Dan composed himself with a good pull of whiskey. Dan stepped up to the mirror as if ready to punch it out. To hell with this, I’m going out! he declared to the mirror. Dan’s decisions in his older years saved many women from severe heartaches. He did women a favor by being so independent.

The best he could do in Silver City on a Saturday-night, in his mind, was to play pool with some wild boys in the Buffalo Bar. ‘There also may be some wild girls that liked the way he dressed’, he thought.

It did not matter to him that Western New Mexico University played Othello, the Silco Theater screened Little Shop of Horrors at midnight, or the Flame presented Edie & the Silver Blue Roots. He just wanted to party.

No driving while drinking. Dan learned that lesson in a very nasty way, and paid dearly for it beyond money. Everything had to be within walking distance, which he became very good at. He walked everywhere, or took a cab.

Dan had dressed no nicely that the thought occurred that maybe, out of a sense of nostalgia, he would visit Issac’s first. It was Dan’s night … he could do whatever he wanted. Issac’s was where doctors, lawyers, professors, and such hung out. Besides, it was right across the street from the Buffalo Bar.

An excellent restaurant in the Isaac N. Cohen building, it was on the corner of Bullard and Broadway, built in 1881. An upscale singles bar and restaurant in town had new shined, wooden floors and excellent décor that high-paying customers demanded. Dan had been to many places like it before: the singles bars in Baltimore, and the hip places in North-Central Tucson on River Road like the cool Steakhouse, or the Chinese Bistro. Just beautiful single people, not sure of what they want. The shy, and the gregarious, both mixing to avoid the obnoxious devoid of oblivion.

He was dressed appropriately for the bar and went to approach it. He remembered how much work it took to come up to these people, as he perceived them. It was not like he was inadequate, quite the contrary. It was just that, as hard as he tried, he never felt like he measured up in their social world. It did not occur to him to (and was not comfortable with) just being himself.

He was more comfortable drinking beer and shooting pool in the dives of Tucson. So, with all these very nice, and very nicely-dressed people that he could have easily conversed with, if he had tried … no one shooed him … he turned around and left. He just knew, in his mind, that the lovely ladies would never pay any attention to him if he had approached them. He did not even try. He crossed the street and entered the Buffalo Bar.

Dan felt like home in the Buffalo Bar, but he was definitely over-dressed. With khaki pants, a blue button-down collared shirt, brown patent-leather shoes, and light-brown corduroy sport-coat with felt-elbow patches, Dan was Esquire. His short, black-gray hair, combed straight back, deep-blue eyes, short-gray beard and moustache, slim build, and somewhat hesitant, but confident air about him, allowed him to feel accepted. He knew when he saw the mounted Buffalo head over the bar, winking at him. He was welcome to enjoy the bar, as was anyone of any color.

CHAPTER 5

Silver City was very cool in accepting all people of all races. The Southwest was an interesting mix of White, Hispanic, Native American, African, Asian, Middle Eastern, and a variety of other races. Hell, the history of the town spoke for itself. Mining required hard labor. Some of the harder jobs were assigned to laborers of color. Back then, the white male thought he was supreme.

Buffalo was vintage with, not-shined wooden floors, two aging pool tables, the smell of stale beer, gray-tiled ceiling, and an ancient wicker fan. The bar had four side tables by the wall from Morristown, Tennessee. The chairs had black wrought-iron backs with red-vinyl padding. The bar stools were your round standard-black vinyl and chrome with no backs. A really nice touch were the old-Western prints and Marilyn Monroe prints, an old phone booth, and some sculptures that looked like Remington’s.

Buffalo was a relic of the Brooklyn Bars Dan’s father brought him to when he was little. His father’s order was, grow up so we can drink beer together.

Buffalo was very popular with the biker community. It was not unusual to see a truckload of Harleys parked outside the Buffalo, like they were parked Saturday night.

It was also bar tendered by outstandingly friendly and beautiful women. Bobbie was a green-eyed beauty in a green-blue tank-top. With her blonde hair in a bun and exposing amazing cleavage while wearing tight Levi’s, she served Dan a beer.

Martique, was rumored to be a cattle-rustler at one time by the busy-bodies at the bar. They said his word was no good, and he could be disagreeable.

Dan shot pool. He and a young man named Mike played against Martique and Bill. Mike was a young black man built like a brick shit-house; he was a rare occurrence in town. Mike was an Army Staff Sergeant serving as a Recruiter at Ft. Bayard.

They shot eight ball. Martique, who seemed agreeable enough at first, a Western cowboy with the hat and boots, but with a disagreeable scar on his chin, did not like someone who played the game. Martique accused Mike of cheating.

Dan said, No way. His shots are clean and good.

Are you calling me a liar? replied Martique rather nastily.

No, sir. I would never call you a liar, implored Dan. Some bar patrons took notice and would pounce Martique on a dime if he attacked Dan. What Dan and no one knew was Dan had 24 / 7 protectors.

Dan’s efforts as a peacemaker were futile. A fight broke out between Martique and Mike, as Mike did not appreciate the implied insult. Dan was much too old for this nonsense. Dan realized he was an old-fart and fisticuffs were in his past. Dan went outside to avoid the mayhem.

He smoked a small cigar outside, hoping things would calm down. Martique came outside, vomited, and collapsed. Dan tried to help him up, but almost got punched for that effort.

Somehow, Dan had Bill’s glasses in his shirt pocket. Not about to go back into the Buffalo right now, he walked up Bullard to a pizza delivery and asked for a cab. The manager offered to drive him back to his motel. Dan agreed and gave the young man a $5 tip. Dan thanked the young man so much. The manager objected, but Dan insisted. The young man was so nice, that Dan could not believe it. The young people were not the listless, lazy, and disoriented slackers too many blow-hards were too eager to claim they were. Dan had been reading way too many news magazines.

CHAPTER 6

Early, Sunday afternoon, Dan walked to the Buffalo Bar in order to return Bill’s glasses. There, he ran into Martique and Rocky. Rocky, who was about Dan’s age, was a rough-looking guy, with dark long hair, dark-brown eyes, dark skin, and very Hispanic looking. His short sleeves exposed mighty biceps adorned with interesting tattoos. Dan wondered if he possibly developed those biceps from mining.

Dan, now in his mountain clothes, shot pool and beat Martique, but lost to Rocky. There may have been some feeling of intimidation in Dan as he played, but who knows? Dan knew, and that was OK. Dan had nothing to prove.

Dan put his hand out to congratulate Rocky on his win. Rocky grabbed his hand warmly and said, Thank you, brother. Dan felt accepted into the mining community. If Rocky liked him, everybody liked him. With guys, it was all it took.

It reminded Dan of the brothers he had all over the world. One call and the Irish American Defense League would be all over the place. Dan was a Very Important Person with the IADL. He did not flaunt the fact or use it to his advantage over others. A bar patron Dan did not recognize was his Guardian Angel, even now.

Martique was obviously hung-over. He explained that after the altercation at Buffalo, he went to the Flame on Pinos Altos with some jerks and got into another fight. ‘Who drove’? Dan thought. The Flame was quite a distance from Buffalo.

Enough of it. Dan gave Bill’s glasses to Margie, one of the kindly bar-maids. Margie made the job look like there was nothing to it. She reminded Dan of Mary Margaret, a former love from the Ski Club long ago. She had the same long black hair and electric blue eyes that were killer on a brunette.

Margie caught a look of interest in Dan’s eye. Electricity flowed between them. Dan wanted to go back thirty-two years to be with her. Those years had been spent. She was much too-young for him. She was the black-haired, blue-eyed, mellow-skinned, Irish-Black Beauty who gave him a hug, something he desperately needed. Somehow, Margie knew to give Dan a hug. She felt it as a part of the Vortex she lived with every day in her environment. Silver City was a magical place.

CHAPTER 7

Dan finished his beer, hugged Margie once more, gave her a twenty, and walked to Pickamania at Gough park. This time, a visit to the Beer Garden was in order. He found the only open seat by an estranged husband and wife and engaged them in conversation. The seat was available because most people feared Paul. He could be unreasonably fearsome when he was with Alexandra. He was insanely jealous. Dan had no idea.

The men knew to stay away from Alexandra much to her dismay and loneliness. She was a beautiful thirty-something with black hair, freckles, playful-green eyes, and buxom. She was also very friendly. She had the cowgirl pre-ordained tight jeans and slim-fitting sweater. Dan felt embarrassed. He was sitting next to her husband, he could not help but to admire her. She was the best-looking brunette in Silver City (except Margie). She also reminded him of the Brunette he met and fell in love with from the Ski Club. Again, that was years ago. Dan was reminded twice now about past loves from the Ski Club. ‘Was the Vortex saying something to him’? he wondered.

Dan noticed hints of blonde under her dyed black hair. She had dyed it as an insult to Paul. If she had been the natural blonde she was, the entire concert would have stopped in admiration of her. That is not to say brunettes take a back-seat in the presence of a blonde. She was a natural blonde, not a brunette, and her natural hair color would have complemented her perfectly.

Alexandra’s husband, Paul, was like the brother Dan never had. He was thirties, tall, yet robust with long dark-red hair in a pony-tail. He wore mountain clothes and presented intelligent deep-blue eyes. Paul and Dan looked closely at each other. Dan saw something in Paul’s eyes. It was the sight of sadness and helplessness Dan saw in his father’s eyes while growing up. They both got it just by looking at each other. Paul, I understand. Paul broke out a smile and shook Dan’s hand. Alexandra’s jaw dropped. Paul became a pussy-cat.

Dan asked Paul, Would you mind if I danced with Alexandra? Paul had no objection.

He asked Alexandra to dance. She happily replied, I would love to. I am starving for any kind of attention.

They danced one song on the lawn across the street outside the Beer Garden.

The Beer Garden partiers dropped what they were doing and watched. There was something going on here that was way unusual. They were interested in finding out and watched carefully.

Alexandra and Paul had two young daughters who were as pretty as any two young girls could be. They, like their parents, were very friendly. (Paul worked at it when he was with Alexandra, much to the guys’ stupid thinking, Paul was not the monster they imagined). Dan thought he would have liked to be their granddad, a title he would never have. Meeting the children was very special to him.

Mandy, the older daughter, probably ten, had red hair, freckles, playful-green eyes, and a very athletic demeanor. She reminded him of two RedHeads who looked like her and had the very same athletic demeanor.

Cindy, the younger daughter, probably eight, was a skinny and pretty blonde with her father’s blue eyes. Her blue eyes were going to pierce the hearts of many young men. She reminded him of the Blonde who had those same piercing blue eyes.

Dan now had to wrestle with what was happening. Dan was being reminded of ladies who were very important in his life. All were gone from his life now. They were all married and had grandchildren, except one. What, just what was going on? Dan grappled with the thought.

‘With such a beautiful family, what was the problem’? Dan wondered. It was a problem with which he was not going to get involved. He was already involved in the problem. Maybe Dan wanted to be involved. Dan, whether he knew it or not, wanted a family. Here was a family like a TV dinner, all he needed was a microwave oven to heat. They, Alexandra and Paul, came here to entertain their girls together as a family. They both seemed happy to just stay in the Beer Garden while their daughters played with puzzles or coloring books.

Dan partied with them, drank beer, and danced with the very beautiful Alexandra … again … outside the Beer Garden. He felt badly seeing the girls were cooped up. Dan entertained them in a Frisbee-fest next to where the Artists were playing at the gazebo.

The two girls were enthusiastic. They had Dan running all over the park to retrieve Frisbees, two at a time. It reminded him of Ski Club summertime games he used to play like softball, volley-ball, and white-water rafting. Those images of a happier time played ceaselessly in his mind while he kept up a lively pace.

He kept throwing Frisbees until old-fart syndrome caught up with him. While catching his breath, he said, OK, girls, you have beaten me to a pulp.

Perhaps it was his imagination or maybe the beer, but he noticed some of the audience looking at him with acceptance, something he wanted so badly.

As a child, he rarely received praise from his father. No encouragement grew like a Baobab on his Asteroid as described in The Little Prince, by Sir Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. The more Dan tried to please his father, the more criticism he received. Even at his current age, those old programs had high priority. They interrupted whatever was processing and took over control of memory. So, feeling acceptance, was almost better than sex.

Dan returned the girls to the Beer Garden. Paul and Alexandra, and the entire Beer Garden for that matter, were in shock. They found out they could entertain their daughters like Dan just had. The community felt like they were a family. No more talk about Paul’s misgivings, eh? They asked themselves, Why are we such negligent parent’s? Here was a sixty-something throwing Frisbees with two girls who were under teenage years. What they did not know was, for Dan, it was moderate exercise … not!

He lifted weights three days a week and quick walked three miles into the mountain desert the other three days. The RV park had a very non-used gym he supplied with dumbbells. He also supplied a radio for kick-ass rock-n-roll. Few people except Dan took advantage of it.

Dan was trying to get his park neighbors over their old-ass attitudes. They were all Christians, and Dan was a heathen in their prejudiced and limited thinking. It was a problem the park dealt with, how to remove the evil without being age discriminate? Dan needed a family …

CHAPTER 8

By this time, Dan had decided he wanted to adopt his family. It was obvious to Dan that Paul’s jealousy was interfering with his affections for Alexandra. Alexandra was reacting to abandonment in her mind and struck back with black hair. The children were bewildered at the prospect of losing their parents. While no white knight, Dan had some tricks up his sleeve. He was going to salvage the family. By now, Dan and Paul had broken the ice. Alexandra had warm feelings for Dan as a father figure. Dan had a good sense about things. He