A Family Divided

By William Shore

Tina and Maurice Shaw meet in the turbulent days of World War 11. They fall in love and marry before Maury joins the Medical Corps in France.

When they return to the States, the couple move to a small town in Pennsylvania with Maury’s two Army buddies. The bowling alley they jointly purchase fails, and Maury finds a sales job in Philadelphia.

The couple has four children and the young family flourishes. But Tina discovers Maury’s infidelity and they undergo a contentious divorce. Three of the children, Billy, Darlene and Matthew, reside with their mother, who goes through a dark period of alcohol dependence, and neglects her children. Are the siblings able, using their own resources, to weather the crisis?

After several trying years, Tina rises out of despair and the family goes through a healing process. Billy becomes attached to a band of teenage friends and they go on risky and comic adventures.

Billy earns his driver’s license and he and Matt go for a joy ride, with tragic consequences.

Drowning in guilt, Billy loses the will to live. He isolates himself from everyone, until he receives a letter from his estranged father, inviting him for a visit. The young man embarks on a journey, not sure whether he wants to have any kind of relationship with a man he views as selfish and a failure as a parent. Will the reunion lead to strife or rapprochement?

Reaching an answer, Billy returns to his mother’s home with renewed purpose and resolve to place the family tragedy in the past and get on with his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664166691

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by William Shore.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 04/15/2021

Xlibris

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Part 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Part 2

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Part 3

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Part 4

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

There is always one moment in childhood when

the door opens and lets the future in.

—Graham Greene

You are born into your family and your family is

born into you. No returns. No exchanges.

—Elizabeth Berg

For my

mother and father who, no matter how flawed,

did the best they could to grow healthy children.

To my readers, who may wish to gain insights into the ways

of community in a bygone age, the 1950s and 1960s.

Acknowledgments

M any thanks to the people I knew and know in Mt. Airy, Philadelphia. My memories of them are still sharp in my mind, revealing the invaluable contributions each made to my emerging identity. I feel eternally grateful that I am still friends with some of them after more than six decades of life on this earth.

Part 1

Chapter 1

I t was in Georgetown, District of Columbia, in August of 1944. World War II in Europe and the Pacific Ocean raged on, requiring a constant stream of fresh American troops to be trained and dispatched where needed.

Have you seen an ashtray? said a soldier in a green uniform, hatless, looking a bit forlorn. This was Maurice Shaw’s gallant attempt at an opening to the petite brunette in a Waves’s uniform. Bettina Tina Benn managed to round one up and hand it to him.

He placed it on a table with platters of fruit and vegetables and large vases with ornate arrangements of roses and lilacs.

Thanks. He jerked at his lighter and inhaled. They exchanged names. Tina felt a mixture of flattery and awkwardness; he was certainly good-looking. She was impressed that he was training to be a Combat Medic. But he struck her as very young, perhaps a recent high school graduate. She was thirty-one.

There was a pause as Maurice groped for a follow-up. I smoke filtered cigarettes. These are L and M’s. They taste smooth, not biting like the unfiltered ones.

Tina thought of a commercial she had seen on TV. A man inhaled smoke from a long drag and seemed to savor the taste before slowly exhaling. He said pretty much the same thing that this soldier had said. She struggled with a reply. I see. More women are taking up smoking these days and I don’t know why.

Maurice pointed to a couch. Let’s sit. They settled in, weathering several awkward silences until switching into a smoother second gear.

They saw each other after their work was done almost every day. Tina worked nine to five at the Office of Naval Intelligence outside of the capital. The job consisted mainly of typing documents and taking dictation for an officer on the Strategic Affairs staff.

It was not long before Maury became smitten by her. She had a pleasant and warm manner and was pretty enough for his taste. Her complexion was pale with light brown hair cut short and easily put back into place when windblown. Though near-sighted, her one bow to vanity was that she did not wear glasses in a man’s presence, thinking they made her look too bookish.

Tina saw Maury as suave and handsome, with a delightful sense of humor. He endeared himself to her with quips like Let’s dance, if I can find my cane. He pursued her with resolve. She declined his persistent proposals because of age differences.

When his medic training was over, Maury got called up. He was shipping out to Europe from Union Station in the nation’s capital. Frustrated with failed marriage proposals, he resolved that this would be his last attempt. He waited until after they had finished eating lunch and his martini had kicked in. Tina, please say yes. It would make me a very happy man.

This time, she saw fear in his eyes. She knew him well enough to understand that he was worried that he may never return to her, that this would be their last time together. She had the same fears and more; she loved him. I do. They were married that same day by a justice of the peace.

Maury was sent to a military installation outside of Paris. The medical corps was briefed on the Allied Armies’ strategies and the places in Europe where battles were being waged. They learned that the largest massing of American troops was on the move to France’s border with Belgium. Among these forces was the 30th Infantry Division, in which Maury and a large contingent of other medics were attached.

On the way to the division, Maury befriended two other medics, named Bud and Thomas, both from West Virginia. The three talked extensively about the war and their concerns about being in combat zones. They hoped that the larger battles had already been fought.

But their hopes were crushed while they road on a troop transport vehicle on a rainy day in Northern France.

The Germans launched a surprise attack at the army’s flank. It became the most devastating encounter of the war—the Battle of the Bulge.

American troops were pummeled with a three-day barrage of cannon fire. They could do little to defend themselves in a blinding fog. It was bitter cold and the snow came and went, came and went.

The three friends found themselves split off from each other. They were placed into different personnel groupings.

The battle was primitive and gruesome. Maury witnessed two men who had their heads blown off. There were hundreds of dead bodies on the battlefield. Carrying them away took two men. But two medics together were hard to find. Corpses remained on the killing fields, many for days, stinking of rotting flesh.

Maury had to step over them to reach the injured. Help, medic! was a very common refrain.

Medics had to remember to carry morphine and needles out to the injured men. Some cried out for Hours; some died waiting for assistance.

Trying to sleep during bombardments was almost impossible. It was not uncommon for Maury to go all night without sleep. Under tents, in a sleeping bag, he shifted about in wet clothes and blankets, craving a bottle of whiskey to put the day’s horrors out of mind. Liquor was nowhere.

On a day when snow turned to freezing rain, deep inside a combat zone, Maury crawled blindly about in the mud. There was a sudden barrage of rifle fire. Bullets pinged off his helmet. Stunned and disoriented, he crawled toward the German lines until he saw men behind sandbags wearing German uniforms. He made his way back to the American side only when his own troops spotted him and provided cover fire.

A band of exhausted medics addressed their superior to inform him they were close to exhaustion and needed time to rest and regain their senses. They were replaced and soon found themselves in a country house, huddling near a fireplace until dry and able to find the kitchen where they ate sausages and cheese like starving dogs.

When the snow subsided and the temperature rose up into the thirties, Maury went outdoors for a smoke. He noticed a strange silence then the hum of plane engines overhead. A man with three stripes on his coat approached him. He turned to Maury and said, If I’m not mistaken, that’s the sound of our planes. He roared, Weeehaw! The posse has arrived. He was a Montanan.

Air combat ensued with machine-gun fire almost constant. There was a deafening explosion. A German plane with its tail on fire crashed into nearby woods. Fire engulfed it. They took cover in a bunker. The battle is going east, said the sergeant. That can mean only one thing, Maury. We have them on the run.

That night the men were ordered back to their division, joining the tanks and foot soldiers on their deliberate journey to Cologne and beyond.

During nighttime encampments, medics and infantrymen sat around bonfires. Harmonicas played, often accompanied by loud singing. A few men shouted out bawdy limericks and told profane jokes. The lightheartedness overcame fear and fatigue.

The juggernaut continued east toward Berlin.

On the Eastern Front, the Russians reached the city limits, pounding it mercilessly with big guns. Their troops were under strict orders to move ahead as fast as possible to beat the Allied forces to Germany’s capital.

Once the Allied Army approached within ten miles of Berlin, they saw huge clouds of black smoke hanging over the besieged city. Much of it was engulfed in flames.

Allied generals received radioed orders from the supreme command to stop their advance. Troops anxiously awaited word that the order to move forward would soon be issued.

Hours passed. A soldier shouted, Fuck, let’s get it over with!

Scouts with binoculars stared in shock as a long line of German soldiers slowly moved toward them. Troops readied for battle.

The Germans stopped, removed their shirts, and waved them back and forth. Allied soldiers with binoculars could clearly see some of the men. They carried no weapons.

Scouts shouted, Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!

An American sergeant carrying a bullhorn, escorted by rifle-toting soldiers to his left and right, approached the enemy. They came to a halt less than one hundred yards from the Germans, most of whom looked ragged and defeated. The sergeant spoke through the horn in German. Stop where you are. Everyone, put down all of your weapons, raise your hands and walk slowly forward.

When the first slow trickle of soldiers walked by him, a British captain said, You are now prisoners of war.

While passing the Allied soldiers, many of the German officers stopped and saluted.

One of them, a general, said, We surrender. We surrender. Russians are killing and terrorizing our soldiers and the people of our city. We wish to surrender to you, not to them. Please help our wounded.

The middle of the Allies’ formation opened up and the injured came through, some on stretchers, others between two men assisting them to walk. They were waved on to the medical corps, whose men hastily constructed adjoining tents.

Over the next seventy-two hours, Maury, Thomas, and Bud worked around the clock to patch up the wounded.

After the injured had been tended to, Allied soldiers gathered in a cratered wheat field, where a smiling and excited general announced from the hood of a Jeep that the war was over. Soon soldiers would be flown to bases in Western Europe and to the States.

Thomas and Bud stumbled into an officer’s tent and found Maury, lying on a tattered cot, exhausted and drunk with a half-full bottle of whiskey. They passed it around, laughed and cried, and made plans to reunite after the war in a small town northeast of Philadelphia called Kleintown.

Once both East and West Berlin were occupied and the United States took control of the Western sector, Maury became curious about what would happen to a nation defeated in a brutal war he signed up for and became part of the American occupation forces. Tina joined him and they lived in a converted apartment on the third floor of a partially destroyed munitions warehouse.

Tina experienced privations. She was not working and was bored with her routine as a wife. She wanted children. Maury expressed understanding but wanted to delay starting a family. In her disappointment, Tina practically begged him for a dog as a birthday present. Maury demurred, telling her he did not like pets.

On December 23, Tina’s birthday, Maury came home from work a little late. The weather that day had been bitterly cold and snowy. Maury wore an olive-colored greatcoat that he kept buttoned as he entered the apartment. Awkwardly, he sat down. Tina asked him why he did not remove his coat. It was heavy and caked with snow. Maury unbuttoned it and said, For you, my dear. Out popped a dachshund puppy. Tina took the dog into her arms and rocked it back and forth.

My own little baby. You are so cute! She named it Linda.

Chapter 2

T o Maurice Shaw, born and bred in New York City, Kleintown, Pennsylvania, looked as unfamiliar as a pair of rubber fishing boots. There were hills and valleys undulating like waves, large farms with acres and acres of crops, and strange trucks to harvest them. Great big wooden barns of all shapes dotted the countryside. The man never saw any animals going in or out of them, so he thought they could be there just for show.

Tourists visited Kleintown and made themselves conspicuous by staring at the locals, who were used to it. The Amish in their black buggies, men with long beards, and women in plain dresses with white veiled blouses simply ignored them and went about their business.

On the north side of town was an outdoor market where all manner of meat, canned fruit, and fresh vegetables exchanged hands. When Maury paid a visit, he found the farmers and their families to be cordial but distant. The men seemed preoccupied with other matters and not interested much in what he had to say.

I see you have quite remarkable tomatoes today. He volunteered. So red and bulbous.

Every day we have excellent vegetables of all kinds. The man’s tone was surly.

Perhaps, Maury thought, it was that these people were being cautious. After all, they didn’t know him. He remembered how careful he had been in the army. Some GI’s seemed proud of their ignorance. Their racist remarks and prejudiced views of city slickers grated on his nerves.

Maury was born and reared in the Bronx, the northernmost borough of New York City, where ethnic neighborhoods abounded. He was given the Ukrainian name of Maksym. The family name was Soskina. They lived in a neighborhood teeming with Ukrainian immigrants. Close by were enclaves of Poles, Jews, Lithuanians, and Irish.

Early into adulthood, Maksym changed his name to Maurice Shaw. He wanted others to perceive him as a full-blooded American.

Here in Kleintown, it was evident to Maury that ethnic diversity was unknown. Scanning the phone book, he could deduce from surnames that town folks were of almost exclusively German roots.

Names like Stoltzfus, Heinz, and Schmidt were common.

The Shaws lived on the third story of a red brick colonial house on a shady side street. Tina took an immediate liking to it. Maury, it’s perfect. The wood flooring is a nice blond color, and I love the decent-sized kitchen.

Maury had experienced mixed feelings about the place from the start. He liked that it was hidden and private, surrounded by tall oaks. But the first time he opened the back window, he was repulsed at the smell of cow dung. There was a farm just behind the house. Cows, lounging lazily on the grass, had no qualms about shitting near the fence.

Often, when Maury came home from his meetings with his army buddies Thomas and Bud, he heard women speaking and laughing as he put the key in the door. He found Tina’s new neighborhood friends pleasant enough, but they talked only about female interests, such as foods on sale or babies or who was putting a Tupperware party together. He had to force himself to feign interest, either that or he excused himself to go down to his car to have a smoke or several.

Maury was an early riser who, in many ways, was a creature of habit. He always ate a bowl of Frosted Flakes or Cheerios and a cup of black coffee before venturing out to meet the day. He always dressed the same on weekdays—dress slacks with black or brown shoes, a white long-sleeved shirt, and a blue or tanned blazer. As if he were headed to a business office. But there was no business to be conducted as yet. The men met at a park, sitting on the benches or at a diner. Still relieved that the war was over and their friendship had outlived it, they felt entitled to a little more leisure time together.

Bud and Maury wanted to open up their own business, one that would give them enough income to provide well for their families. Thomas just wanted a job. Nearly anything would do. He had grown up poor, and overdue bills frightened him. His friends sensed this, so they gave him pep talks with the overriding theme that a good job offer was just around the corner.

Today, the men met for lunch at a small café that served strong coffee and sandwiches with dry ham or beef. Maury had grown up eating Ukrainian cuisine, favoring fish and stews. When it was his turn to order, he passed and nursed a lukewarm coffee.

Bud, the most talkative of the lot, spoke up, You know, weather today’s going to be a barn burner. Let’s take the day off. Sound okay to you guys? Thomas?

Thomas put down his coffee cup. I don’t care how hot it gets, Bud. I have to bring some money home. Soon. He turned to Maury, who was reading the newspaper and gave him a nudge on the shoulder. What do you think, Maury? Or did you just volunteer to listen to my wife bellyache all day about how lazy I am? So far, it feels like all we’ve been doing is taking a tour of Berks County.

Maury looked up, a pensive expression on his face. My money’s getting low too, and Tina wants furnishings for our place. I’m going to have to make some money soon too, that’s for certain. I vote we expand our search to Bucks County. The eastern side of it, near Montgomery County.

Thomas was curious. Why there, Maury?

They’re building all kinds of housing developments, and towns are booming with new businesses. I looked at the map and there are a few places that look promising.

Bud invited his buddies to his place for breakfast the next day. Like the man, Bud’s wife was a talker. They finally departed close to ten.

The men headed southeast toward Philadelphia. Maury took a winding route along the Schuylkill River. There were a few large dairy farms on the riverside of the road and on the other side, lots of open land with rundown houses, broken fences, and For Sale signs. Thomas said, Boy, look at all these abandoned farms. Those poor souls must have lost everything.

They passed through a few towns that looked unpromising. There were boarded-up buildings. Few people walked the streets, and stores were spaced far apart.

Soon they passed into Bucks County. There was a long stretch of untouched flatlands with lazy streams and oak groves. Maury pulled over and consulted his map. There’s a town a few miles ahead, just past the Bucks-Montgomery County line, called Skippack.

Coming out of a covered bridge, they saw it, a hamlet dwarfed by a towering church spire. It was taller than any they had ever seen. Thomas, a devout Christian, said, Can you believe that? I get a good feeling about this place.

At the eastern edge of town, on the same block, were a general store, a shoe repair shop, and a bowling alley with a For Sale sign out front.

No one talked as they left the car. Peering in the window, they saw eight alleys, two pinball machines, and an Indian statue. There were streaks of discoloration on the ceiling, signs of a leaky roof. No bowling balls were in sight.

Bud said, I’ll bet the guy who owned this place ran off with his balls.

The men laughed heartily. Maury went around back and returned with a smile and a lilt to his gait.

The parking lot is in good shape. And no broken windows. Kids have left it alone.

The excitement was apparent in Bud’s voice. Wouldn’t take much to get this place up and running.

It wasn’t long before the men took out a business loan and started repairs. They could fix most things themselves, but the roof needed a specialist.

Now where out here in this hick town is a roofer? Maury asked.

Thomas said, Let’s walk down to Maple Road and ask around at the feed store.

The route took them along a narrow street where new asphalt had recently been laid. It was a flat carpet without creases or cut lines. Bud said, Whoever put this road down should get an award. Have you noticed the people around these counties actually work hard? It wasn’t always the case in West Virginia.

The feed store was a cedar-enclosed structure with a long concrete dock for shipping and receiving.

They took a look around. A middle-aged man in suspenders and a long salt and pepper beard was moving a hay bale. He put it down. Welcome to Schieffer’s Feed and Fertilizer. May I ask if you are new residents here in Skippack?

Maury took the lead. Yes, we are the three men who are fixing up the bowling alley. We hope to open it up for business pretty soon. He introduced his friends. What we need to find is a roofer.

Ach, that is good. My cousin has been looking for such work for a while. His name is Rudolph. I will have him stop by the alleys tomorrow.

Rudolph turned out to be a prickly and methodical fellow who avoided the men. After a week of preparations, Bud started to feel that his work was proceeding at less than a snail’s pace. He approached the roofer and found him deep in thought on the southernmost side of the roof.

Hey, Mr. Zimmer. How is the job coming along?

Most of the shingles in this area need to be replaced. It is exacting work. I am trying to do an excellent job so that your roof will never leak again.

With impatience in his voice, Bud said, When do you expect you’ll be finished?

If you leave me alone, perhaps in two weeks.

The man was true to his word. When Bud inspected the final product, he was more than pleased.

They shook hands and settled up at the counter. Bud said, Do you like to bowl, Mr. Zimmer?

I am Mennonite, Mr. Thompson. We consider bowling a frivolous activity.

The men fixed the flooring on every lane. The work was tedious, and a great degree of patience was called for. When nearly finished, they brought in a man from Pittsburgh to inspect the work. Unfortunately, the wrong finish had been applied, and it took days to strip it and apply coats of the proper covering.

Thomas made a special trip to Buffalo to buy top-of-the-line bowling balls. They were a shiny black with perfectly round holes to place the fingers.

Maury went to the public library in Kleintown, where he read up on advertising techniques for recreational businesses. He relied upon newspaper ads and flyers to spread the word.

A good supply of locals showed up at the grand opening. They were warmly welcomed and provided free shoes to bowl with. Two teenage girls asked for jobs and were hired as part-timers.

The men enjoyed setting up men’s and women’s leagues. There were six teams of each sex. After a few warmup games, they went after each other full tilt. The best teams made the playoffs, and the players on the winning teams won handsome trophies. A family league got up and running soon after. There was a good turnout; two nights a week kids bowled free.

It wasn’t long before business slowed down. At first, the men were baffled. They tried new offers to bring people back, but instead, the numbers continued to shrink. Maury cornered a father of six girls and explained his concerns.

Gus, let me ask you something. We seem to have less customers than before. Do you have any ideas about this?

Sure do, Maury. They built an arcade down the road in Lansdale. It is really something.

An arcade? What do you mean, Gus?

Well, there was an old blacksmith shop that shut down. It’s a big wooden structure. It was converted into some game rooms and a bowling alley. They call it Time Out.

What are the other rooms for? Maury felt himself tense up.

"I think, Maury, there’s a penny arcade. Another one