The Trees for the Forest

By Ronald Johnson

The Trees for the Forest Unforgettable. Compelling. First love. Domineering resolution. The comforting forest. A young man's place for solace . . . and answers. Challenging. Coming of age in a world of new beginnings. From the innocence of the Appalachian Mountains to the haunting secrets endured in German forests. Experience unblemished love, foreboding exploration, and the unrelenting hardship of overbearing personalities. How does one overcome the obstacles of youth? Cope with intimidation? Vanquish fear? A symbolic journey described by one who undertook it. Discover the tribulations that refines character and faces uncertainty using defiant confidence to navigate through the dark forest of humanity. Enjoy the humor of family bonding. And the sadness of loss, just to start over. Envision dreams of the future. Root for the underdog. Take a brazen stand against adversity. Initiate a legacy earned by life choices. Heed the advice by those who gave it. The quest begins with one step forward. Will you be able to see the trees for the forest?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643505428

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The Trees for the Forest

Ronald Johnson

Copyright © 2018 Ronald Johnson

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64350-540-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-542-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated with love to Alyssa and Olivia, two sisters who suffered a tragedy beyond comprehension while I was writing this book. Being bullied both in person and over the internet caused Olivia to take her own life four days after turning thirteen. Upon news of this loss, my family and I spent time with their family, and the sorrow I felt was unlike any I have ever experienced in my life. To witness the devastation caused by this influenced my story of being bullied. How I dealt with it. What I want to say to people who deal with it daily. It is a subject that won’t go away, unfortunately. That being the subject of bullying. It is ugly, misguided, and shameful. My wife and I have raised three children. We have included this subject in many talks with them. Bullying is never a good idea. The consequences of such actions lead to events that haunt people’s lives the bullies don’t even know. It is senseless and disgraceful.

Olivia, I pray you found your peace and happiness. With love, your memory will continue in our lives.

Chapter 1

Seed

The creek flowed to the west. It was about a half mile from my grandfather’s yard. The trail back to it was well established and traveled by many generations of my family that have populated the area of southwest Pennsylvania since the early 1900s. To my knowledge, there was no official name given to it. We would often make two trips a day back to the creek and fill up gallon containers with water, then carry them to the house for family use. The water was good to drink. The creek was also great to fish for trout. My brothers and I spent countless hours fishing and exploring the area. A prized catch and, worth bragging about, was a ten-inch-plus brook trout. So many fishing holes. It usually ended up being a race between us back to the creek. Time and again, there were arguments that turned ugly or, not quite as frequent, a physical contest that pitted brother against brother to secure some boundary only known to us as far as access to a fishing spot. There were four of us—Ron, Rick, Randy, and Ray, oldest to youngest. Our sister, Paula, was the only girl in the family. She was just a baby and the pride of Mom and Dad. The oldest were twins. The youngest separated by a year and a half. In fact, Randy is one day, one month, and a year younger than the twins. How’s that for an amazing play on numbers? I always thought that was unique and for some reason special. Turns out it is just the way life finds a way.

We were raised in various locations throughout the United States. Mom was born and raised on Brant Mountain in Pennsylvania, Dad in Southeast Colorado, in a town called La Junta. Dad served in the United States Air Force. He met Mom while he was with a friend visiting Pennsylvania on leave from Vietnam in 1967. A break from being in a combat zone. A chance meeting. They married July 1968. I don’t really recall too much from my youngest days, like most people, I’m sure. The things I do remember are snippets of time that just flash in my mind on occasion. Memories like camping in the southwest mountains of Colorado and fishing for trout. Traveling across the middle of the country, crowded in a camper that Dad always modified in some sense. He always had that going for him. Trying to improve the family mode of transportation to accommodate the ever-growing children. It worked. We made many trips to visit the grandparents. Mom’s parents in Pennsylvania, Dad’s in Colorado. I did like going to Pennsylvania as opposed to La Junta. We could fish, swim, explore, and spend time in the woods there. In my dad’s hometown, it was hot, smelled strange, seemed like everyone smoked cigarettes, and was dusty. Quite the contrast between the two places. But each one influenced my life profoundly. It seemed wherever my dad was stationed by the US Air Force, we gravitated to both places. Dad was placed at various installations throughout my young life. Peterson AF base, Colorado. Finland AF base, Minnesota. Some place in California that I don’t remember. Every two years we moved. Wasn’t that bad I thought. It was normal life. Travel to a new location. Set up in base housing, go to school on the bus. Meet new friends. It was not bad. Somewhat inconvenient at times as we had to learn different routines constantly. Dad was spending more time deployed in the field than at home with us. As a military family, we accepted the duty my dad honored. He was responsible for high-dollar generators and communication equipment. And for young recruits who just started their service. We knew he had to be on a constant state of readiness. Be prepared to leave with no knowledge of return, or if he would.

In 1979, that was the year Dad received orders for deployment to West Germany. What were we going to do? Mom and Dad had many discussions about it. We speculated about life with Dad gone. Where would we live? Colorado? Pennsylvania? The decision was not to be made lightly. At the time, I was unaware that Dad had plans for us to join him in West Germany. It was life as usual. Not knowing where we were going. What kind of people we’d meet. So many factors in consideration. I’m glad my parents dealt with those issues. My brothers and I had far more important issues to deal with. Things like our next football game, who stole the Legos, when would we be able to fish? It might seem a bit trivial to ponder such things. That was our life. Football, fishing, building spaceships with Legos so we could destroy them. And fighting. We could not go through a week without fighting. One week it would be Randy and I versus Rick and Ray. The next week it would be the opposite. We were good at it. Always finding something to argue and fight over. Of course, it caused stress with the parents. Mom would give us plenty of warnings that we were to be dealt with when Dad would get home from work. And dealt with us Dad did. That seemed to be his first order of business. Talk to us about our behavior, ways to improve, what he’d like to see from us, then parental justice. Which meant lining up, single file, waiting our turn for a spanking. The first one was easy. It was over with swiftly. The second, third, and fourth were not so much. Those in order had to watch and listen to the punishment as it was happening, causing fear and anxiety that words could not describe. I think Dad planned this kind of thing. The order was always different. Maybe that was something he learned in the military. A mind trick that makes one think. It did not prove to be as effective as Dad had planned. I mean, at the time it did, I guess. But it sure did not change our behavior. If it did anything, it changed the way we did things. First, not to get caught misbehaving. Second, what kind of lie could we come up with to avoid the ass beating? Third, what kind of deal could we bargain to keep things quiet? Last, we developed a sort of mentality like if any of us ratted one another out, we would deal with it among ourselves. And that was far worse than what Dad would do. I’m talking about things like breaking a favorite toy, sneak attacks in the middle of the night, making up stories that were worse than actions. The deviant behavior among brothers had no boundaries. Sometimes it was outright violent. Other times it took on a more sinister tone. This conduct would last well into our teen years. The impact defined our adult relationships into separation and distance with one another. Sad to say. We had been through so much as youngsters. We were all we had.

Dad left for West Germany during my sixth-grade year in school. My parents decided we would stay in Pennsylvania while he was gone and until he had things set up for us to move there with him. They had found a house that was about two miles down the road from my grandparents. It was centrally located from Mom’s sisters, so it seemed like it was a good place for us. The house was old and needed work. The roof leaked, the plumbing questionable at best, and it smelled of damp forest. Which I liked. As did the forest creatures, such as rats, snakes (caused the most fear), and bats. Insects of all types also enjoyed the house. I’d seen insects there that I do not even know if science had a name for. It was always humid, shady, and lush. A typical Appalachian mountain home that had seen better days. But it was home. For the time being. The school bus would pick us up early in the morning during the school year. We would ride on the bus into town for the school day. I don’t recall anything that stands out in my memories from that time in school. Except I did have to start copying the dictionary word for word one day. Didn’t get very far. There are quite a few words on that first page. Maybe my teacher just wanted me to be busy. Just seemed silly. I had to do it. Didn’t want to get in trouble with Mom. She would tell Dad. And even though he was across the Atlantic Ocean, the thought of him knowing about my behavior as less than desirable was deterrent enough to keep me in line. School was not exciting.

Summer. School break. I was in the transition from an elementary student going into junior high school. Man, I thought I was something. The rules for younger kids did not apply to me. I became aware of girls. My thoughts of games, toys, activities, all took on different meanings. I had strange dreams. Girls. Weird body functions that I needed my dad to explain to me. Hardly talked to Dad while he was over there. It cost too much money for the phone call. Couldn’t discuss it in a letter. Took way too long. And it was embarrassing to talk to Mom about such things. The brothers would have teased and made fun of me. Just kept it to myself and tried to figure things out. I reacted to people different. There was an underlying feeling of anger that seemed to persist. Not sure if it was part of growing up, becoming a young man, or I was just strange. Didn’t seem like I had any sense of guidance during that time. My grandfather (Mom’s side of the family) was really the only male role model I had. We affectionately called him Pappy or Pap.

He would tell me, Ron, if you work hard, you will go far in life.

I would reply, Pap, did you work hard?

Yes, I did. All my life. I raised four girls, built this house, cut the trees down to have this yard and garden. You see, nobody ever gave me anything. If I wanted to survive, I had to work hard. That’s why I have you boys mow the lawn and I pay you for it. Want you all to learn how to work for what you want. Not just work hard. Be smart and learn as much as you can about everything, Pap explained. He often spoke about working hard.

There was always something to do at Pap’s house. From the daily task of fetching water from the creek twice a day to mowing the lawn and helping take care of the garden, I didn’t have much time for anything else. It even came to the point that I was assigned tasks that seemed to make no sense. One such task was digging out the outlet of a culvert. Wet, muddy work. We used a wheelbarrow and shovels. Pap would sit in his chair smoking his pipe and drinking his beer, instructing us on what to do. He’d give us an occasional break. Needed it. Hot and humid during the summer in Pennsylvania. During breaks, my brothers and I would talk of other things we could be doing instead of working. Sometimes it seemed such a waste of time. Well, it always seemed a waste of time. Did not like that kind of work. Tough on our young backs. Our feet were always wet. But we did it. Dug a deep hole, removed all the loose sediment and rocks, and improved the water flow. Pap paid us five dollars each for the work that took about three weeks to complete. Boy, did we feel rich. Included with our pay, Pap took us fishing for catfish. He knew of a secret spot. Large catfish. We were so excited. Not often Pap shared his secret fishing spots. Made us feel very important, and we promised to never share the location with anyone. To do so would cause Pap not to trust us with top secret information. Couldn’t have that. No way. Fishing was very important to us.

The sun was still down when Pap woke us up. The journey to his spot was going to take about an hour. Of course, we boys were grumpy and whiny.

Why do we have to be up so early? Ray whined.

I don’t want to go, Randy said.

Probably won’t even be any fish there.

You guys can stay here, I told them. More fishing for us. Pap is being nice and taking us fishing. Why do you have to be such crybabies?

Shut up, Randy demanded to me. We could sleep a little longer and go back to the creek and catch trout instead of catfish.

Stay here and go then. We don’t need you to go, I responded.

Randy lunged at me and pushed me. You always think you have to say something. You’re a jerk. I am going to kick your ass! Randy reacted. He tried to wrestle me to the ground. As he grabbed me, I swung my elbow down into the middle of his back. Hard. He went to the ground and started crying. Not much of a fight.

Pap finished loading the car and came into the house. What is going on here? he questioned.

Randy is complaining, so I told him to stay here. He attacked me. I defended myself and hit him with my elbow on his back.

Randy, what are you complaining about? Pap asked.

Nothing, Randy answered.

Ron?

Yeah, Pap?

What is the problem? Pap had turned his attention to me. I’m not asking again. Keep it up and we won’t go anywhere.

He doesn’t want to go catfishing. He’d rather sleep longer and fish for trout. He’s being a fucking crybaby.

The look on Pap’s face after I told him that was of shock. He did not expect to hear me say the F-word. I did not know what to think. It was as if something changed between us right at that moment. Hard to know exactly what changed. Something. Do not use that kind of language around me, Ron, or any of you kids. I do not like it, Pap stated. What do you think Grandma or your mom would say to you if they heard that kind of talk coming out of your mouth? He looked directly at me.

Well, I know they would not like it. Probably bring something about the Bible up and let me know that Christians do not talk like that, I answered.

I don’t care if the Christians like it or not. I just told you that I don’t like it, Pap replied in a more serious tone.

I understood. I respected Pap. He was not much of a Bible or church person, as opposed to my grandma. She was quite the opposite. We always attended church on Sunday. Mom, my aunts, their children, and us. We attended Bible school in the summer. Went on church outings. As much time as we spent learning about the Bible, it seemed to be the same story. It made me feel guilty and ashamed. People suffering, living a hard life, and other people finding a way to manipulate and exploit them. War was always happening. Land and boundaries defined by a group that felt if it was defended in the name of belief, it made sense. I spent time reading the Bible and similar literature in seclusion. Went as far as having individual counsel with religious elders. Even though I constantly asked questions that I felt needed answers, the responses were nothing new. Why should it matter to me what they would think? I asked.

Randy was still knelt over in pain. My other brothers had gathered around us, drawn in by our conversation. They knew the possibility of not going fishing was very real at this point. I could feel their tension. But I did not care.

It should matter to you because it matters to them. It’s part of being respectful, Ron. You must learn that people are going to believe what they want. And if you want to go fishing, you will say sorry to Randy, stop asking questions like you always do, and get in the car, Pap responded in such a manner that I knew it was useless to continue seeking answers or even expect any. Rick and Ray were telling me to just say it. The sun was starting to brighten the sky. We should be on the road by now. Wasting time.

I’m sorry, Randy. Do you want me to help you up?

No, I don’t! Now get away from me and stay away! All day! He went storming toward the car. I did what was asked. We loaded up in the car and went fishing.

It was already warm and humid when we arrived at Pap’s secret location. The river was low and muddy. Didn’t matter though. Catfish rely on smell and feel for food. We had various baits to use. Worms, night crawlers, chicken livers, and some stink bait Pap bought at the store. Nasty stuff that stink bait was. I preferred using the night crawlers. Occasionally I changed my bait. Used the chicken livers or whatever seemed to be catching fish. Not the stink bait. Pap liked it. Ray used it. They even caught fish with it. I’d rather not smell like that stinky stuff all day. We fished at various locations along the river. The competition to catch the biggest and the most was a big deal to us brothers. On that day, we were all catching quite a few. Not very big. Seemed Pap was right about his secret spot. We were catching so many that we ran out of bait. All of us were fearing our time fishing was going to end.

Guess it’s time to go, huh, Pap? Rick asked.

Why is that?

Because we are out of bait, Rick replied, slightly irritated. Like, Don’t you see that?

I have something to show you boys. My dad showed this to me a long time ago. Go get your brothers and come back over here.

Rick followed the instructions. He told us that Pap was going to show us something. We followed him to where Pap was.

What do you have to show us, Pap? Ray asked.

Pap reached down to a log that he had a stringer of fish tied to. He took one off, thumped it in the head, cut it open, and took out the fish’s innards. You take these guts and bait your hooks with them. Catfish love eating guts. Doesn’t matter from what. Watch. He cast out his line into the current, let it settle on the bottom, and then placed the pole up against the log. We were watching it. The tip started to bounce. A sure-tell sign that a fish was biting. He picked up the pole and waited. It was still bouncing. Then it flexed violently. Like a big fish was on the line. Pap set the hook. Pulled back on the pole. At the same time he started to reel in his line. The reel was clicking as the fish fought back. This is a big fish! Pap exclaimed. Our excitement grew. We moved closer to the river and observed the surface hoping to catch a glimpse of the fish. Sure enough, Pap heaved the pole up and brought the fish to the surface. I saw the side and tail as it attempted to swim deeper. It was a big fish. The biggest I’d seen all day.

Don’t lose him, Pap. He’s a big boy! I yelled.

I saw him! Pap continued battling the fish. You boys stay back. If he sees you, it will spook him, and I won’t be able to land him. The fish was tiring. Pap started to gain the advantage. One of you kids get the net. Ray grabbed it. Pap could get the fish closer to shore. Ray scooped the net into the water. He tried to pull it up. Couldn’t do it. Help him before he falls in! I went over to where Ray was and grabbed the handle of the net above his hands. We gave one mighty pull and out it came.

Look at that! Ray shouted.

Rick and Randy were standing up on the bank, looking down. That’s huge! Randy shouted.

We brought it up to the flatter ground and let it out of the net then removed the hook.

Jeez, Pap! You caught the biggest fish today. No doubt! I said to him.

Pap put his pole down and came closer to us. He grabbed the catfish from underneath the gills and rear pectoral fin and lifted it up. I’d say he weighs about fifteen pounds. About thirty inches long. Pap informed us. Let’s get loaded back up in the car and head home. We will take this one with us. I want your grandma to see this.

Okay, Pap! we said. That was the fastest we ever loaded up the car. We had it done in no time. The drive back home took a long time. All we did with the fish to prepare it for transport was put it in a plastic bag. I was concerned about it. When we finally arrived at the house, I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. I jumped out of the car before it even stopped moving. Mom! I called to the house. Come out here and check out what Pap caught!

She came out and down to the driveway. I had the catfish out of the trunk and on the ground by the time she was there. Wow! Dad, you caught that? she asked.

Yes, he did! we said as one.

I did. We ran out of bait, so I showed the kids something else we could use.

He cut open a fish and used its guts and caught this! Ray could barely contain his excitement.

Now you boys know there are other things to use. Thanks, Dad, for teaching the boys about fishing.

They know how to catch fish, Pap said. Why don’t you boys go ahead and take this fish to the waterway you dug out, put him in the hole, and let’s see what happens.

"You mean we aren’t