Twin Memoirs Volume 6

By Robert W. Parsons

I am Mitchell, the grandson of the Reverend Dr. Matlin DeMarco. But you already know that. Meet Charlie and me—who we are, how we met, and what we have become to each other.

Call me Pastor Mitch, as my congregation does. I will fill you in on all the unknown answers that have come up throughout the Twin Memoirs saga that were briefly dwelled upon.

My thesis, before ordination by the seminary, will tell you of my belief system. I am a Gnostic Christian. I am a seeker of truth and knowledge and a follower of Jesus. I use the Bible as a reference book, not a statute of limitations as many Christian put upon themselves.

Stay with me as the truth be told.

In book 12 is the twenty lost years of Michael DeMarco’s life after death. I had finally met my granduncle as he shared with me story after story of how he came to terms with his new life in God after becoming a vampire of light. Yes, it is true. Michael, my granduncle, is the last of his kind. He will become the new superhero. Meet Salvatore.

Was my grandfather ever lost in space? His spirit never came around to me. And neither did my granduncle and my great-great-grandmother. Why? The last book called Resurrection will answer that question concerning my grandfather.

Are you still waiting to hear what took place at Grandad’s fiftieth high school reunion and its theme? And what about the urn I found in Granddad’s destroyed cabin north of Eagleton? Whose ashes did they belong to?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662405686

Book preview

Chapter 81 High School Prank—Michael DeMarco

High School Prank

He’s got tan shoes with pink shoelaces,

A polka dot vest and man, oh, man.

Tan shoes with pink shoelaces,

And a big Panama with a purple hat band.

—Dodie Stevens, Pink Shoelaces (1959)

Michael DeMarco

As with all the other volumes, I will start this one off as Granddad did with the remembrance of Granduncle Michael, his identical twin brother. In 1967, GU Michael (for short) got lost in the psychedelic haze of San Francisco that summer. In 1977, GU Michael almost died in New York City during the gay pride celebration. In 1987, GU Michael flew to Australia to see his celebrity crush in concert.

In 1997, GU Michael was no longer with us. So I dug through his journals to see what I could find in 1957 concerning himself. GU Mike didn’t disappoint me. If you remember, he ended up in the hospital that late spring after Johnny killed those four Chinese hit men. Then he starred in the up-and-coming Broadway musical West Side Story that summer in Aspen Springs. And Quai was the foreign exchange student that fall during Matlin and Michael’s senior year.

And then Halloween happened. Homecoming week was filled with activities during that last week in October and ended up with Granddad and Granduncle Mike riding those two horses during the homecoming game halftime. And yes, the Aspen Springs Warriors won their homecoming game, 35–7. GU Mike was a hero that night, completing pass after pass as the quarterback. GU Mike was the MVP of that homecoming game. I have that trophy in my memorabilia collection that was handed down to me by Granddad.

* * *

November 1, 1957 Mom went over to the church to practice with the choir. She played the piano. Matt was also gone. I took a small T-shirt I had grown out of but could still wear even though the sleeves came up under my armpits and the bottom lay inches above my navel. Yes, I was stretching the shirt out a bit. That was what muscles do. And boy, do I have them.

I took an old red towel of Mom’s and washed that white T-shirt, a white pair of gym socks, and white shoelaces in hot water. What I got was a pink T-shirt, pink socks, and pink shoelaces. Yes, Mom had taught Matt and me how not to wash clothes. I found an old purple terry cloth towel and cut a two-inch-wide band that would fit around my head and sewed it together for a headband. I also made two purple wristbands.

One of the cheerleaders, Kathy, had an old pleated cheer skirt she gave me. She also had matching lace panties and bra that fit me just right. I used water balloons to fill the bra with because I wanted my boobs to bounce. And of course, they did. One bounced right out of the bra and broke on the gym floor. The student body laughed hysterically as the staff tried to retain some control over the din of the students.

You’re thinking, how can I wear a bra with water balloons with that tight T-shirt? I had to cut the T-shirt from neck to boobs, exposing my cleavage, as women do. Trust me, with my hard pectorals, my cleavage ran deep up to my collarbone. The bra would show a little too. That was why I lost a boob; the T-shirt was looser and wasn’t so tight.

The cheerleaders wore red tops with the white W on the front and black skirts with white socks and tennis shoes.

This was going to be the best senior prank in high school history. Better than pissing my pants in Ms. Levine’s class. I would come out on the gym floor in white tennis shoes with pink socks and pink shoelaces, my too small pink T-shirt, a black pleated mini skirt without a jockstrap, and a purple headband and wristbands. I did wear those pink lace panties because I didn’t want to be suspended from the game for showing my junk in full view.

My hair was long so I had two pony tails on the top backside of my head. They bounced along with my water balloon boobs.

During the pep rally yesterday, the day after Halloween, I ran out to the gym floor dressed as a cheerleader, carrying and shaking my red and black pom-poms. The cheerleader who gave me the skirt taught me the routine the cheerleaders were going to do for the pep rally in secret. The other girls on the squad knew nothing of my prank, just Kathy as my partner in crime.

At first, we jumped up and down, everyone catching a glimpse of my pink lace panties under my short skirt. This was when I lost a boob. Then we did our cheer routine. The ending was having four girls lying flat on the floor and four other girls sitting on their chest, their skirt hiding their own legs and the upper body of the girls lying on the floor. The girls on the floor did the leg part of the routine, and the girls sitting did the arm routine with the pom-poms. It was a mix and match of movements out of sync, but it was hilarious to the crowd gathered. Plus, my peers were still laughing at my lost and splattered boob.

I was the girl lying on the floor doing the leg work. Why? Because my pink lace panties would show. By the way, the panties were a little sheer and small for my junk. But no one could really tell from far away.

The student body went wild. They cheered and continued to laugh. The school staff wasn’t so receptive of my performance. Remember, this was 1957. When the routine ended, I curtsied in all four directions as the guys on the football team whistled and grabbed their crotches as the faculty frowned.

By the end of the cheer routine, I was semihard with a boner. I took my T-shirt and bra off and tossed it to my teammates as the remaining boob hit the floor, water splattering everywhere. I kept running around the gym, cheering, while doing backflips in my cheer skirt. Some of the male teachers tried to catch me and escort me out of the gym. I escaped the clutches of authority, but I was in deep shit! Or so I thought.

I heard Michael! Michael! Michael! Cheers came from the gym bleachers as I took my place with the team. I stripped the skirt off, revealing just the pink panties, and put on my gym shorts that one of the guys had for me. I still had the pink lace panties on, the purple headbands and wristbands, plus the pink shoelaces in my white sneakers. I was shirtless until I put on my football jersey. I liked showing off my muscles.

Fully dressed, I ran around the gym again to the cheers of the student body. I took my place with the football team once again. One of the guys whispered in my ear. I pulled down the band of my gym shorts to show him I still had the pink lace panties on. I found out later why he wanted to see my pink panties.

You guessed it. I wore those pink lace panties under my cupped jockstrap during the game. I had cut them, so I was able to pull them off when I scored that touchdown I had to run when I couldn’t find my receiver open.

* * *

Granduncle Mike was a character. He had testicle fortitude. If you don’t know what that means, it means he had the balls to pull off this and other pranks.

Aren’t you glad I didn’t pick I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas by Gayla Peevey to open this book? (google it). Wonder what the storyline would have been? A hippopotamus on the DeMarco ranch? I wouldn’t let anything get past Granduncle Michael DeMarco and his pranks.

This gives me an idea…

But before that, let me answer a question you might have. Remember what my dad wrote at the beginning of book 10?

I need to add this here to draw your attention to Mitchell’s details. I had just mentioned the urn my Uncle Michael’s ashes were in after his death. Plus, I held out in rolling my eyes when I mentioned my uncle was a vampire. Mitchell, my son, found that urn in Matlin’s cabin, which had been destroyed after the so-called destruction of the original dark vampire. It miraculously survived somehow.

Mitchell had always been an inquisitive boy. He went exploring that cabin that was off-limits to everyone. He had to investigate what he had been writing about in Revolution. Let’s just say Mitchell had the remaining ash residue within subjected to DNA testing. That story will be told by Mitchell in the next book. Even though I had been skeptical about my uncle being a vampire, DNA doesn’t lie. Don’t you hate cliff-hangers?

But wait! Wasn’t it written that the urn exploded in midair after it was dropped from the helicopter?

Yes, the urn did explode after it was dropped from the helicopter. Mitchell now speaking here. I saw the video of my GU Mike’s funeral. I saw a close-up as the video camera zoomed in to view the urn being dropped and then exploding, spreading GU Michael’s ashes in the wind. The urn had been a Lakota-designed clay pot especially for GU Mike, with a painting of a bear claw with his Indian name, Paws as Bear.

I did go and explore Granddad’s cabin that had been destroyed by the so-called destruction of the original dark vampire after the publication of Revolution. There was an actual cabin Granddad wrote about, and it was heavily damaged. Whether lightning hit it or it was destroyed by the vanquishing of the original dark vampire, I’ll leave that answer up to your imagination. But the cabin was burned, and large beams lay about.

What I did find in the ruins was an urn, a fancy urn. It looked expensive to me. It had survived the destruction of the cabin. Some timbers still stood as others lay scattered and charred around the cabin’s foundation. The urn had been protected by a shattered dresser, or could it have been a hutch? It had been wrapped in Bubble Wrap. Why? We’ll never know.

Me being me, I went to the Denver library and scanned through the microfiche during the time of my GU Mike’s death and funeral. And sure enough, there was a small article I found about a missing urn from one of the funeral homes in the Denver area. Plus, the article gave the name of the missing person’s ashes in hope that it would be found and returned to the family.

With the technology of DNA and people searching their ancestry, I had a sample of what ashes remained. And yes, the forensic results were identical to the name in that old newspaper article.

This information, I knew, had to be reported to the authorities. That family finally had closure on their missing loved one’s ashes. The urn was returned to the family for closure.

There was no investigation. My guess, as you may well have guessed it, was that GU Mike, let’s just say, closed the investigation with a few compelling thoughts for those involved.

As you can see, I was not compelled. Or was I compelled to write this story? Did these events ever happen? Once again, if a vampire was involved, we’d never know the truth. Or would we?

Plus, you might have picked up that I knew my GU Michael well before I said I did. After reading and rereading, correcting and editing, I found conflicting mentions of knowing and not knowing him.

Maybe he allowed me memories such as the Brulé concert in 2011 and then compelled me to retain no memory of him until later on. Be it as it may, I know my granduncle Michael now. Or was he a figment of my imagination and that of the author, Uncle Bob?

I believe he is real more than he is not.

Chapter 82 In Memoriam—Matlin DeMarco

In Memoriam

I had every detail clear in my mind

before I sat down to the typewriter.

—Margaret Mitchell

Matlin DeMarco

Granddad began Twin Memoirs after he had read about the life of Margaret Mitchell. What he never wrote about was what actually inspired him to begin his journey in writing. Taking from his example of using his brother Michael’s journal entries, I would use the notes I found in a box that had been put in storage. The actual notes were dated on Memorial Day 1996.

You had read about Granddad throughout Twin Memoirs. Now for the final story, it would be about his fiftieth high school reunion. As you might recall, my dad was about to meet his dad for the first time. So Dad planned the roast around Granddad’s fiftieth high school reunion. Dad knew his dad would not miss this event.

The theme was the 1849 Gold Rush in California, where I was born. Sutter’s Mill near Sutter’s Fort in Sacramento, California, was the theme. Remember, Dad had his dojos in Sacramento and the surrounding areas. Granddad would out do his junior prom with the Gone with the Wind theme and create another lasting memory for his bride, my grandmother, Donna.

Referring to Stefano’s journal, he headed west to California in 1848. He had heard rumors of gold being discovered, so he wanted to be there to minister to the miners. Remember, there was no law and order to speak of, so sin was rampant during this period.

Remember the story, the history lesson of Folsom Lake near Roseville, California, where Michael J., my father (not Michael Jr., my brother), had been adopted out to? And how the lake flooded out a mining community when the dam was built? Remember who Stefano might have baptized within that community? These were all documented facts.

I could just imagine my great-great-granddad preaching to all the heathens during this time period. So Granddad dressed as his granddad, as an old Western preacher of that time period, with a Bible tucked under his arm. There had been a picture of Stefano in his journal, so Granddad had that picture to go by for the period preacher outfit. Granddad had to buy a long gray beard.

The picture of my granddad and the picture of my granddad’s granddad side by side was almost identical. Of course, the quality of both pictures were so different.

Grandmother went as Sings So Sweet, Stefano’s future wife and my great-great-grandmother, whose spirit now resides in me. Grandmother Donna pulled it off looking Indian-like after applying much makeup. Granddad had saved his grandmother’s clothes, so Grandma Donna was able to wear an authentic Indian dress.

Again, both were the only ones in period costume as they were the only ones in period costumes for their junior prom fifty-one years earlier. Way to go again, Granddad!

Chapter 83 Caleb Strong—God Sends Us Reminders

Caleb Strong

I have faith, I believe, I am strong.

Take my hand, sing my song, ’cause I am strong.

I wear a mask, I have no hair, I may be sick, I may be scared.

But I know God, He answers prayer, and I am strong.

—The Grascals with Dolly Parton, I Am Strong (2011)

God Sends Us Reminders

Songs bring to us reminders of certain times—the good times as well as the bad times. But God sends us reminders of struggles, as in the case of Caleb Strong. Caleb asked me to share his story only after his death. Death is inevitable to us all but visits others much too soon. This is Caleb’s song.

God said, I Am the way, the truth, and the light. For with God, we are strong in times of weakness. Most people believe that Jesus said the quote stated above. If you read Revolution, you will have learned from Seth that his father did not say many things because man wrote the Bible, an imperfection of humanity, and misquoted his dad.

But who is Caleb? Caleb was born also in 1992, the same year I was born. We met in seminary school. You would find when you continue to read this book that my life was blessed. I had great parents and four other wonderful (most of the time) brothers and sisters. Plus, there was Devlin later on. Yes, we had our squabbles growing up. Even my lineage was somewhat of a miracle. You know, you have read it, I hope.

But Caleb, he had a different story. More tragic, more challenging than Charlie’s, who you will meet soon. As an infant, he was diagnosed with ASD (atrial septal defect). ASD, sometimes called a hole in the heart, is a type of congenital heart defect in which there is an abnormal opening in the dividing wall between the upper filling chambers of the heart (the atria).

I won’t go into detail, but as a result, some oxygenated blood from the left atrium flows through the hole in the septum into the right atrium, where it mixes with oxygen-poor blood and increases the total amount of blood that flows toward the lungs. This increased blood flow to the lungs creates a swishing sound known as a heart murmur.

An ASD that isn’t treated during childhood can lead to health problems later, including an abnormal heart rhythm (an atrial arrhythmia) and problems in how well the heart pumps blood.

As kids with ASDs get older, they also might be at an increased risk for stroke because a blood clot could form, pass through the hole in the septum, and travel to the brain. Pulmonary hypertension (high blood pressure in the lungs) also might develop over time in older patients with larger untreated ASDs.

Thank goodness Caleb’s ASD was treated and corrected, and everything was fine. Or so his parents thought. Then a year later, Caleb ended up on an ECMO (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation) machine. This machine is used when a specially trained medical team uses the machine to do the work that the heart and lungs normally do. Yes, Caleb had heart failure, which affected his lungs. A heart transplant was needed.

Thank goodness Caleb got his new heart and was now a healthy young boy of five years old. And rambunctious he was according to his tales. Of course, he had the measles, mumps, and chicken pox as most kids did. He survived all his childhood diseases.

Then one day, his left arm gave out. He had polio, also called poliomyelitis or infantile paralysis, an infectious disease caused by the poliovirus. Poliovirus, the causative agent of polio (also known as poliomyelitis), is a member virus of Enterovirus C.

Poliovirus is usually spread from person to person through infected fecal matter entering the mouth. It may also be spread by food or water containing human feces and less commonly from infected saliva. Those who are infected may spread the disease for up to six weeks even if no symptoms are present. The disease may be diagnosed by finding the virus in the feces or detecting antibodies against it in the blood. The disease only occurs naturally in humans.

Within months, after returning from a missionary trip from India, Caleb developed polio in his left arm, which became almost useless. The disease is preventable with the polio vaccine; however, multiple doses are required for it to be effective.

Caleb never had a polio vaccination, and it was omitted on the medical form required for getting a visa. It is commonly known that kids are vaccinated in childhood. This was an oversight on his parents and medical doctors.

Robert told me that he remembered, in kindergarten, that the kids were given sugar cubes with the polio vaccine. Jonas Salk had developed the vaccine in the 1950s. The year was 1960 in Robert’s case. And sugar to a kid was heaven. It served as an oral alternative to a shot in the arm.

Caleb grew up in the church, so he had people constantly around him, praying for him and his healings. With a repaired heart, then a new heart, and a challenging left arm, Caleb graduated high school in 2010, along with his peers, with honors. But during the summer, read on.

If you remember, 2010 was the year I lost Granddad. He never came back from his venture into space. The world had lost a great man. I called him G-dad for short. And I was his G-son.

I had first met Caleb in seminary school as I had already mentioned. Here was this frail, skinny kid with a personality that lit up a room. His smile was infectious. He was bald, no hair anywhere. How do I know? The dorm showers. Get your mind out of the gutter. I am nothing like my granduncle Michael.

Caleb was just recovering from non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Non-Hodgkin lymphoma (also known as non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, NHL, or sometimes just lymphoma) is a cancer that starts in white blood cells called lymphocytes, which are part of the body’s immune system.

Lymphomas can start anywhere in the body where lymph tissue is found. One of the major sites of lymph tissue is the lymph nodes, which are bean-sized collections of lymphocytes and other immune system cells throughout the body. As in the case of Caleb, his lymphoma was inside the chest, not the abdomen or pelvis. These nodes are connected by a system of lymphatic vessels. The bone marrow, the spongy tissue inside certain bones, is where new blood cells (including some lymphocytes) are made.

Whether there was a connection or not from his earlier challenges, Caleb’s lymphoma was situated within his lungs and also his bone marrow. Unfortunately, Caleb had the aggressive lymphoma that grew and spread quickly and usually needed to be treated right away. The most common type of aggressive lymphoma in the United States is diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL).

The world seems to get smaller and smaller as I get older. I’m only in my late twenties, but yet time flies by, and you are constantly learning new things.

Robert, my adoptive uncle, my dad’s brother, who was the author of the Twin Memoirs series and was helping me finish the series with volume 6, had non-Hodgkin lymphoma of the left lung back in 1993. I was almost one year old then. Now in 2020, Robert is twenty-five years clean. His bone marrow was clean; therefore, he was able to use his own bone marrow in the bone marrow transplant that, for the most part, would guarantee the nonrecurrence of the lymphoma.

Caleb’s treatment was aggressive as mentioned. But that didn’t stop him from his dreams and goals of becoming a minister. He was a walking miracle and proof that faith did heal. He might have looked like the crypt keeper at the time, but that would be his ministry of faith and healing.

Caleb had just finished his aggressive high-dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplant for non-Hodgkin lymphoma as he entered his first year of seminary school. A stem cell transplant (also known as a bone marrow transplant) lets doctors give higher doses of chemotherapy, sometimes along with radiation therapy, of which he had also.

Yes, this young man, a walking skeleton with no hair, had faith and was determined to be strong. Then it hit me, Caleb Strong, the name fit the situation. By the way, Caleb was my roommate in the seminary dorm. We became great friends, and he even made me stronger in my faith. Over the first year, Caleb regained his physique and hair. Of course, we took before and after pictures to show God’s healing powers. Many people need to see in order to believe. That is humanity’s way of believing.

We graduated. Caleb married Charlie and me. With all his challenges, Caleb accepted our homosexuality with open arms. He knew our struggles, and he knew no one should be treated immorally. We all are God’s creation. How you live your life is between you and God, no one else. Of course, my dad was my best man. And my mom was Charlie’s best woman. You will soon find out why Charlie’s parents were not present.

Caleb died within three short months of our wedding. The cancer had returned, and this time, it was more aggressive. Why did God allow these things to happen to good people? I was blessed in life, and Caleb was cursed. Again, you will find out the answer to that question soon.

I leave you with this: God send us reminders in song, in people, and in experiences for us to remember who we are, what we are in life to others, to serve, and that if you think you are dealt with a bad hand, someone else always has it worse off.

So get out of your poor old me routine and help others. Serve meals at a homeless shelter, spend an afternoon helping at a senior center, read to someone in a hospital, or go to a school and read to the kids. Yes, I am preaching to myself too.

Remember Caleb Strong, for he had faith, and he believed he was strong. So let us not forget, and let us sing his song. Unfortunately, he lost the battle, but I won a great friend. And in his memory, I will continue his mission as God’s servant.

Now find out who I am.

Chapter 84 Patterson vs. Nelson—Trial by Faith

Patterson vs. Nelson

’Cause you had a bad day

Your takin’ one down

You sing a bad song just to turn it around

You said you don’t know, you tell me don’t lie

You work at a smile and you go for a ride

You had a bad day, the camera don’t lie

You’re coming back down and you really don’t mind

You had a bad day…

You had a bad day.

—Daniel Powter, Bad Day (2006)

Trial by Faith

My name is Tommy Nelson, and this is my story as it unfolded in 2006. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent. I’ve always wanted to say that in my writings. The idea came from Dragnet, an old television series.

It was late in the afternoon on a cold February day. I hadn’t heard or seen my best friend, Charlie Patterson, in days. I was concerned.

I knocked on the door of Charlie’s house. His mother answered.

I introduced myself, Hi, I’m Tommy, a good friend of Charlie’s. I haven’t seen or heard from him in a while and was wondering if he was okay.

He’s been sick was the reply of Mrs. Patterson. I’ve kept him home from school and in bed.

Can I see him? I asked. I won’t stay long.

As I made my way up to Charlie’s bedroom, I was overcome by despair. Why? I wondered. As I entered Charlie’s room, I was unprepared for what I was about to see. There lay Charlie, drenched in sweat, his matted hair clinging to his forehead. His skin was gray, and his eyes almost black, as if someone had punched him in the face. Charlie was shivering like he was convulsing. His lips were dried and cracked. I saw desperation in his eyes. He couldn’t speak.

He was barely audible as I heard him plea for help. As I got closer, the smell of urine overtook me. The room smelled foul as I entered, but as I got closer to Charlie, the stench overtook me. I covered my mouth and nose. I was close to puking.

Please. His eyes begged as a muffled sound escaped his lips. Hospital was all I could make out as Charlie began to cough, spewing phlegm from the side of his mouth. The foam escaping his mouth reminded me of a rabid dog.

I didn’t have to think twice or ask permission from his parents. Charlie was in a bad shape, and he needed my help. I threw back the covers. Charlie was naked and lying in his own urine. Bed sores covered parts of his body. The bed was soaked and the sheets stained yellow.

I wrapped Charlie in the blanket that hadn’t been saturated by his urine. I could hear Charlie utter Thanks, bro as he lapsed into unconsciousness.

As I carried Charlie downstairs, Mrs. Patterson tried to stop me. She informed me that she and her husband didn’t believe in doctors. She yelled at me, telling me that God would heal Charlie without doctors. I ignored her. I thanked God that Mr. Patterson was at work, for he was a large man. I knew God could move mountains, for surely, Mr. Patterson was a mountain of a man.

Thinking back, God did move Mr. Patterson out of my way.

I learned in church that God would heal us. But I also learned that God gave us doctors to help aid us in our healing. It was the combination of both. Believe that you are healed and then let the doctors do their part. For most of us, our faith is not that big.

As I carried Charlie down the front walk to the street, I heard Mrs. Patterson yell, I’m calling the police!

I yelled back, At least I’ll get a ride to the hospital!

I flagged down a car, which stopped. That was, in my mind, God working with me to get Charlie help.