The Decision
My two buddies, Marty, JoJo and I, truly enjoyed spending time with each other. For the past year we were inseparable. Our need for each other stemmed from our own personal insecurities.
As nineteen year old teen-agers, our time was preoccupied with girls, shooting pool, listening to records, arguing about sports, and whatever non-productive things we could conjure up. None of us made it to college Family finances precluded any efforts on our part to even try. It was obvious that as individuals we had a bleak future.
An idea I'd been playing with for several weeks, was to enlist in the Army. My interest n airplanes since childhood gave impetus to what was initially a fleeting thought. I would join the Air Corp.
'Are you sure?' JoJo was responding to my idea to enlist.
Marty interjected, 'Of course he's sure. He's been talking about nothing else for weeks. . . I'm for it as long as I can avoid being shot at.'
JoJo feeling more secure, 'Okay, I'm game as long as we can stay together.'
I believed, and said, 'That's probably allowable if we enlist instead of being drafted.'
JoJo inquired, 'Jerry, what about your mother. Is she gonna object?'
Marty laughed, 'Claire? You're kidding? Right?' JoJo looked perplexed.
I said, 'Marty is aware of the differences between Claire and your mother.'
JoJo resigned, 'Yeah I know, my old lady is the chicken soup type.'
'You'll be sorry!' These are the words that created ambivalence in my seeking an adventure that would change the next five years of my life. Although at the moment, hearing these words gave me the outward strength to reply:
'I know what I'm doing Claire.' (My mother preferred to be called Claire.) Inwardly, I felt sick, confused. I needed reassurance.
'What's wrong with wanting to defend your country?' I asked, with bravado I really didn't feel. 'JoJo and Marty feel the way I do.'
Claire: 'They're stupid and so are you, who ever heard of Jewish boys enlisting in the Army. Go ahead do it. It's your neck.'
'It's not just the Army, it's the Army Air Corp!' I responded, hoping to impress her.
'Now I'm sure you'll kill yourself. Go ahead see if I care.'
Now that I think of it, Claire was never emotional, it was more like her being defensively right. I really can't fault her. Abandoned during the heart of the Depression; working sweat-shop hours, there was no time for maternal nurturing.
Mother Is A Sex Object
Claire is a beautiful woman who looks much younger than thirty five. At sixteen I was her first born. I knew little about my father, except that he was European, and decided suddenly to leave my mother and her six year old son to fend for themselves. Claire was not to have another son until I was nineteen, thirteen years later.
Claire's good looks became a personal problem. On several occasions, I noticed my male friends looking her over with less than innocent thoughts.
My two closest buddies, Marty and JoJo, sharing sexual fantasies said that while they masturbated, Claire is the woman they'd liked to screw. My initial reaction to this outrageous confession was disbelief, and then anger.
'You crazy bastards. Are you saying you'd like to fuck my mother?'