The Lingstroms

By J.R. Gonzalez

Two people meet by chance and fall in love, get married, and start flipping houses to make extra money, but inexplicably, they find themselves in a house with something sleeping underneath it, and when they are forced to fight for each other against unspeakable evil, they begin to wonder; did they find the house, or did the house find them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543438918

J.R. Gonzalez

This is the sixth book by J.R. Gonzalez, who with each new book is proving that he is a master of horror; this book is a very worthy addition to that collection, originally intended to be part of a short story book, this book follows in the path of his last book, "The Wolf Man" and will be followed next by a story called "Nocturnal" which will reveal what happened to Carl Lingstrom after leaving that cliff side in his third book, "The Lingstroms." J.R. lives in Los Angeles and all of his stories take place there or end up there.

Book preview

Part One

I don’t want to achieve immortality through my work…I want to achieve it by not dying!

-Woody Allen (1935-)

We met by chance at one of those cafes that was sprouting up all over town, they serve coffee in a thousand and one varieties and flavors; they called this one, One Million Ways to Roast a Bean or something like that. Neither of us was looking for love though, that part was a very pleasant surprise that came along rather easily; so we started off good, with the right intent and promises made and kept between us, people told us they thought it was meant to be because we fell so fast and hard for each other; that we were perfect for each other, she was the ying to my yang.

I remember that I wondered if anyone ever called them out on that, made them PROVE they could make the coffee a million different ways; for this to shit or get off the pot as my mother would say; one of those funny the things that stay with you and come back later when the dust settles and things are normal again, or at the very least they seem to be whatever normal was at the time.

I can close my eyes even now and see my wife shaking her head at me for thinking of that, sometimes she couldn’t understand my simple or romantic side; maybe it didn’t make sense to anyone else, but to me being with her made all the sense in the world.

It was clear at a very young age that I saw things differently than most people and yet when I pointed out what I noticed about the same thing they were looking at, it suddenly made sense to them as well, as if I opened their eyes to what was there all along, my grandmother called it my special gift, but I never thought there was anything special about it; there were times I thought it was more of a curse; I saw things I didn’t want to see, she explained to me that it was the price for having that special gift, a trade off she called it.

You gonna see things you cain’t understand, your mind cain’t get around it and it will beguile the hell out of you! she said with a smile and a far off look in her eye because she knew; she was there before.

There were times she would talk my ear off about something like that, and other times she would say a few words and stop almost in mid-sentence, and at times under her breath, and there was no amount of coaxing or bribery that would make her repeat it, she would simply sit back, stare off into the distance and light up her pipe, she smoked the kind that was meant for tobacco but it didn’t smell like any tobacco to me, she never went to the store to buy it. I would have known because it was job to accompany her to the store, she would say it was to carry the heavy things but I knew it was two-fold, because she was afraid to fall and have strangers come to her aid, and the other reason was because she said This family is cursed with a lot of enemies! and didn’t want to run into them alone.

That was something she once told me, and asked me to keep it to myself until she was dead and buried but I never saw anyone that didn’t smile back at her when we were out.

My friends thought she was a witch and were afraid of her, she was Mexican but very dark skinned and they didn’t understand that, they even told me once that it was the evil in her soul that made her so dark, but there was nothing evil about her, and I was never scared of anything she showed me or talked to me about, I knew she loved me and would never hurt me; when I was trying to figure things out as a young kid, I went to her for the honest answers, to anyone else for not so much bullshit, but for a cleaned up explanation or something less than what it was.

As I got older they told me that I was blessed with a sense about those things, that it came from Gramma Mary as everyone in my family called her, that I saw with eyes that were wider open than everyone else’s so I saw more, and my imagination was so good that it took over from there and I got creative with it.

At the same time, I think there are some people that aren’t ever going to be comfortable that I can do that to them, they don’t want to be shown up and can only see it that way; as a competition or they can’t think any larger than whatever view suits them, but they have a hard time understanding my point of view; especially if they don’t like what I see yet I have never lied about that, though I admit that I held back some things to protect their privacy or feelings that might be hurt by what I saw, or because what I saw was so wrong, dark and frightening that I thought it was best kept to myself unless bad things started happening.

Then I remember thinking when I first saw the logo that was bringing people in the door, it seemed the fancier the name on the coffee cup the more it cost; and all I wanted was a sweet cup of Joe once in a while to wake me up and help me at least keep up with the rats that might be ahead of me in the race.

Every once in a while, I needed something to open my eyes and help me to see what was going on around me in the world but for me it was the hardest thing to know what to order whenever I went to places like this; unlike most people who just walked up and casually ordered something that I might like if I understood it I’ll have a fat free Grande double cafe macchiato with a touch of raspberry and a double hazelnut and don’t go easy on the kabobers! and I was lost at Grande because I didn’t know that meant large and what the hell was a kabober anyway; I thought it was a code for something extra but was afraid to look stupid and never asked.

I liked doing my own mixtures anyway, my own blend of the shock coffee with extra caffeine thrown in to wake you up, I guess I liked feeling as if I was in control of it, mixing the stronger blends in with the flavored creamers to prove that the strong was good but I could take it and ask for seconds, but even then it wasn’t enough, the creamer needed to be sweet too, and chocolaty, and I would have to admit that raspberry was always a good thing to throw into the mix.

It wasn’t possible to do that in the places where they made it for you, even if you tried telling them because the mix needed to be right and you couldn’t tell them exactly how without putting your hands in there and showing them because the mix was in my head and never the same anyway.

That left me with gas stations and quick stop convenience stores to get my fix, but that worked for me, after that, I just needed to find the ones with the best blends and creamers; and some of those gave you extras for going there regularly, but that never worked out because you would change jobs or move on for some reason and go a different route with no such blends in their stock so you’d need to start over again.

Coming to places such as this, I could stand there for an hour trying to decipher what exactly it was that I was reading; Italian names for some, French names for others but I didn’t know the difference, then you get into those sizes and they can’t say small medium or large? they don’t use those measures anymore.

Where were the so called normal coffees listed? I thought to myself as I looked around nervously and hoped I wasn’t standing in front of someone waiting impatiently to order his fix, as I checked the board I realized that the good thing about them is they seem to cater to those of us that like chocolate, white or dark chocolate was something I never thought about before, unless I was ordering a Black Russian, which I did once in a while; mostly when I felt either celebratory or melancholy, because either way worked for me depending on my mood; both seemed to be drinks I could consume in mass quantities and not get drunk.

This worked wonders for me because I have always enjoyed studying people, watching them at their worst and then finest because the human mind and behaviors always fascinated me and helped me to know what to do and not to do when I was in that position; it helped me to understand behaviors.

As I looked back at the board I thought that I might like the mochas they offered, the syrupy hazelnut was a good taste too, and I might not ever have found that out if not been for places like this one, so maybe it wasn’t all bad.

Then I began to experiment with the different flavors; but every time I found what I liked, what I would want to order the next time I came in, they changed something, or it wasn’t offered anymore; it seemed as though I was the only one ordering it, but it was crazy, like when you learned the rules to something and then they changed them; confusion to the enemy and all that.

It just might have come down to having too many choices not always being a good thing after all, I don’t know, all I know is I would look up at the menu board and get lost; I mostly tried to stick to what I knew and hoped they hadn’t found out that I liked it and changed it.

The chocolate flavors; hazelnut and sometimes Irish Cream, and sometimes even a shot of Jack thrown in for good measure, I really liked the American Honey in my coffee but they wouldn’t do that there of course, I carried a flask on those days; usually when I got all sappy about losing someone in the family or some girl broke my heart for the thousandth and last (even I didn’t believe that) time.

When I asked Gramma Mary about love, she told me that Without the highs you Cain’t know the lows! she said, They wouldn’t mean so much if it was always good!" and she was right as always.

The good love was always so much sweeter after a heartbreak, but then in the back of your mind you still remember that hurt and hope it won’t be there this time.

Whenever I got down like that I would remember my Uncle Ray and the way he would squat down and take a snap of whatever he was drinking at the time, he would always grimace, yet he never stopped; he never lost control around me and it was always good to see him and spend time with him; he was easy to love but hard to hold onto because he couldn’t sit still for very long and was always leaving town. Every so often he would ask me if I got a smoke, and that never meant tobacco, and he would take maybe two hits and then be fine, and as he never judged me; all I could do was be there if he ever felt like talking about it.

But back to that night, we never met before that day but went to the same movie theater, right across the street, she was with a couple of friends that she knew from work, but anyone could tell that she was not comfortable being the third wheel and after the movie she begged off when they wanted to go to dinner, though it was a nice restaurant they were going to and she was hungry.

Even though they were considerate and tried hard not to be too happy and openly affectionate so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable; it was obvious they were very much in love and weren’t going to pay very much attention to her and there would be a lot of embarrassing and uncomfortable moments and they didn’t see any of the movie either, once the lights went down they were in each other so much that as long as they were quiet (and they mostly were) no one else seemed to notice either.

She tried to give them some space and left them alone, and before long it didn’t seem as if they missed her at all.

Using the restroom as an excuse, she stopped to get some popcorn and when she came back they were kissing pretty passionately so she moved back and watched the movie for a while, and found that she didn’t like it, that she wouldn’t have chosen this one to spend her money on, and she ended up just a row behind me and to my right; and though we never spoke, for some reason I felt as though she was sitting at my side, instead of back there and neither of us needed to be alone that night.

It suddenly hit me hard, I felt that I was alone a long time, that the one left me and decided that I was boring because all I did was love her with all of my heart.

My friends told me that was the problem, I loved her too much and she knew it, took it for granted and then started fooling around behind my back. Maybe I could almost understand that part, the fooling around thing I mean, because I was doing really well at my hobby that was suddenly starting to pay large dividends and I don’t know about you, but it ain’t all work when it’s that much fun.

Some guys started talking to her and though she felt it was harmless, it led to other things and she didn’t know how to stop or maybe didn’t want to at that point.

My hobby was taking too much of my time but the work was great, it opened a lot of doors for me in that field and I needed to cultivate that field as much as I could, to keep it going and strike while the iron was hot as they say, but she didn’t understand that, she thought I hid a mistress or two hanging around somewhere and yet if she did the math she would have seen the preposterousness of it all; for it to happen the way she thought it happened, I somehow convinced a co-worker that was very cute and a lot of fun to be around with designs on me, though I was in a relationship and committed to it and made no secret of it, she thought there was always something going on.

In order for that to happen, we would have to co-ordinate times and locations down to the minute and I am just not that smart, I can’t do that, and to imagine telling someone, okay, I am at 100 degrees north and 75 degrees south, can you talk? or my favorite, She’s in the bathroom, we have exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds before she flushes, can you talk? and then I would laugh at how funny it sounded, but she never got the humor and only saw what she wanted to see in that argument.

Looking at it that way, I thought if she could take off that easy and leave me behind, what did I need her for and I told her that, and once again, she didn’t like the truth I was presenting to her; then again, it could have been the presentation, but by then it was long over and with no idea where she was I couldn’t ask.

So maybe it was that but I can’t explain why I felt that way on that night, it was some kind of connection I felt with her; though I doubt she felt the same because she never seemed to have noticed me from the time I walked in behind her in the line and went straight to my seat while she was getting her popcorn, maybe it was because she never reacted when I tried to catch her eye as we both left and then walked through the lobby and I noticed that she wasn’t with her friends, though we were standing very near each other both when she entered the theater and when we walked out.

At that point, we were both looking at the weather outside, which was not what we expected nor planned for, and I found out later that though I liked the movie, she didn’t, maybe that was due to her third wheel status.

Too much guy stuff was her excuse, a lot of furniture thrown around, car crashes and stuff; guess there wasn’t enough kissing for her, the romance was too brief and there were way too many explosions and of course, testosterone flying all over the place with all the punches thrown and bullets flying.

So, in spite of the best intentions of her friends; her seeming ambivalence to the very idea of taking on a new boyfriend or anything like that, romance was parked very discreetly on the edge of her mind, not what she was looking for nor expected to find any time in her near future.

She recently worked her way out of a bad relationship and though it was a few weeks ago, sometimes she felt so alone that it seemed much longer but she was with a guy that ran with some of her friends. She thought he was cute and then one day he started moving his things in to her home, a little at a time and then all at once, and at first it was a little romantic but after a while she felt as though she was more of a bed warmer than a partner in his life and told him she’d had enough when she found out that he stole money from her and the rent was due and all the money she gave him to pay the bills or put away so she could when they were due was gone.

In spite of that, the breakup was somewhat amicable, it hurt and she didn’t like to admit it, but she didn’t like being alone; she wasn’t used to it anymore and now was beginning to feel she was too old to be alone, that thought made her laugh; Maybe I was meant to be alone! she thought rather solemnly.

The guy was too much into his career and never met a mirror that he didn’t like, and to be completely honest about it, this was the one time she went after the catch that everyone else wanted, the best looking, most successful guy in her circle of work and friends, she regretted it as soon as he smiled at her because it didn’t seem to come from his heart; and the way he looked at her made her feel as though he expected things from her, that he knew she wanted him and wondered what took her so long to give in to his needs.

He expected her to be there at his whim, and fetch things for him as if she was his assistant rather than his girlfriend; the final straw was when he expected her to be understanding when he wanted to sleep with another girl who turned out to be her friend, he expected her to discreetly wait for him to call to her and only then could she approach.

For her it wasn’t good to be alone, not in the big city, and not when she went back home either; she liked the give and take of a good relationship, the tradeoff of good feelings and sharing thoughts and ideals that came along with that, the quiet moments when you held onto each other and pretended the rest of the world didn’t matter right then.

She found it was much easier to rent a boyfriend for family functions than to have to answer to the many Why aren’t you married yet questions, and would take a friend that she felt she could trust, and found that most of her friends thought she would marry the one that she could never marry; not the pretty boy that loved his own image, they understood that but didn’t think she would be able to make that work, but they all liked the one friend that didn’t want to be with women at all, and to her that was funny.

Not that she would pay for sex; she heard a guy in school say that If I have to pay for it, I didn’t earn it! and found she liked that.

No, she would talk an associate from work or a friend of a friend to accompany her and pretend they were dating; and at the end of the night he would go his way and she hers.

But she liked male companionship stuff, and though she would never admit it to her friends either, she liked guy smells in her bed and on some of her clothes; she liked to sleep in his shirt and see how he reacted to that when he found out; to wake up in the morning and make breakfast after a warm shower that went on long after the soap cleaned their bodies.

It was raining that night when we got out there, and for me there was just way too much traffic to try and drive through with all that water on the ground, huge puddles that were deep enough to creep up through the bottom of my door.

There were a lot of people driving around that thought it was better to step on the gas and rush through the puddles rather than go safely through them and live another day, when we came outside we saw the promise of even more rain; it seemed to come down even harder just as the door closed behind us.

Now I knew I would get soaked because I parked in the open lot on the far side of the mall, all of the ones under the shade of the upper levels were taken except for the ones that said employees only and I knew better than to park there and get my car towed away because it would cost too much to get it back.

I looked longingly at the cover from the rain that the other people used, the ones that paid attention to the weather man or were just plain smarter than me and took the time to bring an umbrella.

For a brief moment, I thought about going under that cover as far as I could and then from the far end make a mad dash to the car but it was still far away from any point I might have tried, and I still would have been soaked, and then it came to me why that part of the lot had so many open spaces; I was ready to kick myself by that time.

That was when I saw the café and ran for it, running between two cars going in opposite directions without getting wet and making it to the door just before she did, the sound of both horns cutting into the sound of the falling rain as I flew past.

Getting to know her that way was just like in the movies and a bit too convenient but I wasn’t going to argue with my good fortune so far, I stopped as I caught her scent, it was soft and yet definite, and very sweet as well as nice; I thought, That’s the kind of fragrance I like to have around me! and I looked for her friends but they must have left without her because they were nowhere to be found.

I opened the door for her and we both went in; she smiled and sweetly said Thank you! but she looked embarrassed by the attention, probably because being a gentleman is a lost art and she wasn’t used to it. Though I know that some women resent any chivalries in this age; I can’t help it, I like being nice to people, especially the female kind of people, this time I was being flirtatious but I was also being the good son that my mother raised me to be.

"Be good to all women!" I can still hear her say, but then I’d still mix in the cute ones with dazzling smiles and nice legs, and you get the picture, I guess that I couldn’t help myself sometimes.

But the thing is, she was very beautiful, the shy, plain kind of beautiful I mean, not too much make up; bright and clear brown eyes with a smile that would melt the coldest iceberg in the meanest of hearts.

I know that there’s more to a woman than her looks; but once in a while being with the wrong one with the great looks isn’t too bad either, as long as you don’t try to fool yourself into thinking it’s more than it is, because with that kind of woman it almost never is what you think it’s going to be, and that was probably one of the lessons she’d just learned by being with Mr. Wonderful for as long she was.

Though I didn’t see them, her friends drove by right at that moment and saw us together, they both started to call out to her but even they admitted later that we looked very comfortable together right from the start, we seemed to be laughing and smiling, an easy friendship that quickly grew into something more; they figured that I was a friend she called after leaving them and she would be okay and went on their way.

As we walked up to the counter, I was slightly behind her and to her right when the girl behind the counter asked, How are you folks today? Think we’ll be getting much rain today? Can I help you? in rapid succession while not waiting for an answer.

We both laughed and then looked at each other for a moment before we went with it and ordered, I guess it broke the ice between us when the girl made us laugh and forgetting about getting wet and running between the buildings as we did; not to mention the driver that thought I came a little too close with his precious car and blared his horn at me as he drove past, I realized that the second horn was for her and wondered how close she was to that car and smiled at her daring.

I remember thinking that I would have given anything to see her look at me like that again, that I could get used to her smile. There just happened to be only one table available there so we ended up sitting together; talking for many hours about everything and nothing at all.

Now you might think that it was because we were both waiting for the rain to let up; that we were just passing time until that happened, but it let up long before we left that day and we left together and we hardly noticed.

Later on, I had to thank God for that rain, taking it as a good sign after all instead of cursing it for getting me drenched as I might have before I met her.

After a while the traffic died down to nothing but a man walking his dog and carrying a little sack and glove, and some kids down the street grinding the front steps to an office there with a lot of daring maneuvers that I wouldn’t have tried while standing on solid ground.

There was one kid on a skateboard working hard on doing his stunts, flipping his way up and down the sidewalk and the short stairs there, with a few of their girlfriends watching along with the two of us and he was pretty good though he already knew that and showed no fear of things like gravity or landing hard on asphalt; no fear at all and I admired him for that, it reminded me of simpler times when I might have felt the same way.

The rain returned a few times, and once even came down really hard for about ten straight minutes but then slowed to less than a light drizzle that floated on the air around us and then stopped entirely, making everything smell so clean and fresh, as if it was all new again.

I remember when I told her; My name is Carl, and stuck my hand out. Carl Lingstrom and we both laughed because it seemed so old fashioned.

Still, she looked at my hand for a moment, maybe to see if it was clean, and then said Jessica, and don’t you ever call me Jessie! and as she took my hand, I felt sparks pass between us; and later I told her about that and she admitted that felt the same, yet neither of us mentioned it then, maybe we didn’t want to appear silly or too pushy, but we both felt it at that same moment.

We sat there for hours; just getting to know each other and forgetting about the rain until they asked us to leave so they could close the place. Then as we left we decided that since her car was closer, I would walk her to her car and then she was going to give me a ride to my car.

Not because it was still raining or anything, though there were some rather large puddles here and there, as if the drainage lines were clogged up again, but I like to think it was more so because neither of us wanted to let go that day; maybe it was the newness of us, maybe it was just both of us being romantic, but I know now that we both felt that right at that moment when we were faced with that sad prospect of going to our respective homes alone.

I floated from her car to mine and then couldn’t sleep after I got home, I was so excited that I almost forgot to get her phone number, though we agreed to meet again, next time was going to be a real date.

But I still remember the date of our first real date, it was March 30th 1974, there was a band called The Ramones that she was fanatic about, and they were making their first public appearance in our area that night, which just happened to be her birthday.

She liked to joke about that and told her friends and anyone that would listen that they did it for her; that they knew she loved their music so much and wanted to reward her devotion to their efforts, but in truth there probably has never been a bigger fan of them and their music.

To look at her though, you would have never guessed that was her favorite band; because everything else about her was stricter and more business-like, straight and professional, this was her only diversion from that attire and attitude she carried.

That was probably because most people only saw her professional side, the side she wore when she was working and out in the public, because they expected that of her, it was part of what they paid her for, but the other side of her was not so reserved and when she could let her hair down she dressed more punkish and it might not work on her in ten years but it sure did that day, she looked so cute that I almost felt like I was her father taking her to a concert so I could protect her from the bad guys that also went there.

It was not my kind of concert before we went that night, because I always thought they were basic three chords and a cloud of dust, but when I heard them and saw how hard they worked to play their music their way I was really impressed and wanted to hear more.

I lucked out because she invited a friend that couldn’t make it at the last minute and another backed out as she anticipated the upcoming event, the last friend was one of those quirky friends she put up with to be polite, a person that thought she was psychic and yet she could never tell anyone anything that she should have known if she really was, and then she met me and we went together and it was a great night for us.

To be honest, I never get into that Astrology stuff; but think there’s some truth to it, there are things about people that can only be explained that way, behaviors, opinions, morals, and things like that, but it doesn’t follow a straight line any more than any other behavioral theories because there are always going to be variables, things that happen to alter the lines, blur them a bit and behaviors that exhibit themselves just in time to throw theories into disarray and give the doubters food for thought.

But this friend was very into that; and took it so seriously that she planned her entire life around the signs as she called them, everything in her life revolved around those graphs and charts.

She told Jessica that our signs were too close together and we would never last more than a few months at best, but then we proved her wrong.

We must have been one of the exceptions to the rules I suppose because we listened to her findings, nodded our heads when we thought it was appropriate and pretended that we understood her concerns and went ahead anyway because in our hearts we knew what we found between us much better than anything she might find on any of those charts.

She was all excited about going to see the band that day because she felt as if she discovered them, in truth, they were not that well known then, but would make a lot of positive changes in the music industry.

Though they made it look easy and maybe a little too basic; when I saw them, they joked around and had fun all the time, but were very serious about their music and loyal to their fans; and they guy she liked the most was named Joey, the charismatic leader of the band and she must have been his biggest fan.

They played in a small venue, a club that other big names played on and did well, and they filled the floor to capacity and if anyone was dumb enough to leave, there were many others outside waiting to take their place, and they did put on a great show.

It was funny when I thought about it later but I couldn’t believe how fanatical the crowd was over a band that only seemed to know three chords and one speed, but the Ramones caught on and enjoyed a good run.

I admitted to her that I’d had a good time that night too; though that might have been because we were together more than the show because I paid more attention to her than Joey or his brothers that night.

That was where we began anyway; from there on we were having fun spending a lot of time together, getting to know each other and enjoying what we’d learned as we went.

She liked walking on the beach so we went there more than a few times and rode bikes there a couple of other times, it was romantic as hell but we just wanted to know each other better, we also went camping in the Angeles Forest, which was something she never explored before.

I took her to Crystal Lake but she got spooked out when I told her they filmed the movies about Jason Voorhees and his mother at that campground, and that was how I found her soft side; she didn’t like to be scared, didn’t like those kinds of movies and never really wanted to go with me when I did, but she wanted to go with me so she suffered through them.

After that I would go with my other friends or alone unless it was something else, action comedy, and especially romance, girl’s movies, but never anything even making fun of a scary movie; because she finally admitted that blood made her squeamish.

When she found out where we were she moved in closer to me, then leaned her head into my shoulder and begged me to never scare her again.

Though I didn’t mean to scare her when I told her that; I felt good when she leaned that close to me, I felt good that she trusted me, not only with that secret side of her, but also that she made me feel as though I could protect her from danger.

Little did we know then, because I meant it when I said that, when I looked her in the eyes and promised her I would, that she was never safe and I was whistling in the dark, and I wondered if I fooled her then, if she believed me as I thought she did, because she put her head deeper intro my chest and I thought I heard her say Thank you but I wasn’t sure and yet looking back now I think that maybe deep inside we both felt what was coming and thought we were ready, that we were strong enough to beat it.

A few months after I met her I fell into a photography business, it came to me easily enough and I was quite successful at it, I already knew how to take pictures, and when a friend offered to sell me his contacts and shop I thought it was a good idea.

Starting slow, I began taking pictures for my own enjoyment and some friends saw a talent for good composition; and use of color, so they started asking me about taking their pictures, the money was good and the work was clean so I thought why not? and took off on it.

I always liked working for myself anyway, that way I decided who did the dirty work and how many hours were enough, and to be honest, I didn’t mind working for some boss’s son who didn’t know which end was up as long as he knew that and admitted to it.

When they acted as though I was going to do their shit no matter what I had a problem with them and a hard time hiding that, working for myself worked very well for me.

I eventually graduated into weddings and portfolios before very long and made a name for myself, and at that point I was; as they say in demand in that business, working all the time from then on and still having fun.

It was probably the changes and challenges it presented that I enjoyed about it and it was not hard, physical work, but more mental, and so many things to be aware of, but I found and f-stop and aperture that I loved and some good film for my three cameras and it never seemed like hard work for me.

It was also true that I could have charged a lot more, got fat off of some of those people and those memories but some of them were friends and others, well, it just didn’t seem right to demand more money from them than I thought it was worth just because I could; and what it was worth to me was still much less than what was considered the norm and far less than what others charged for the same work.

Someone once told me that it was my composition and timing that made me better than others because I paid attention to the details, the lighting, the background and what was going on before the shutter was opened.

I never caught anyone eating or smoking and they always looked posed and natural though they had no idea that I had taken their picture, but it was natural for me; I think it was just that I always enjoyed watching people, studying them and seeing what makes them tick.

She was an associate banker with natural born balance of numbers; she could look at a work of art and see numbers there, gradations of this paint or that tone, she would dissect how much of one color was dominant over the others, how much of the canvas was wasted.

I told her that she missed her calling and should have been an art critic but she would just laugh and say she really liked what she did.

She didn’t let it get to her though; keeping the pace to her own liking, and, as in my case, she could have risen higher in the bank and demanded more pay, but she was content where she was and felt that the money she made was more than enough for her needs.

We both learned early on in life that money doesn’t buy happiness; and the joke about it meaning you can shop at better stores doesn’t cut it either, because sure you can, if you don’t care about spending two hundred extra dollars just because of the name on the bag.

It was refreshing to me when I found out that she felt that same way, I had never been one to look at the labels or ask where my mother bought my clothes when I was growing up, and she been raised the same, money was a needed evil, a means to get a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs and food on the table, and I didn’t need anything beyond what I found in her arms.

We even talked about that once, and she gave me the idea that true happiness comes from within us, and with all of that; we were married six months after we met, and would have done it even sooner than that, but for the family wanting for us to be wed proper, whatever that meant; as long as we could be together we felt that we could jump through all the hoops they set out for us within certain limits.

Her father was