The Orphans' Nine Commandments

Chapter 16

q16Q But true to the essence of my peripatetic life, changes came to my small world. In early January 1944, Dad, having sworn off gambling, decided to accept a challenge. The B.F. Goodrich Company offered him a responsible position to supervise the construction of a new plant in Miami, Oklahoma. This meant moving away from Drumright. Mother and I were reluctant but curious. Could we adjust? I would have the most difficult hurdle—a larger school, strangers for classmates, and missing my work at the newspaper. Mother would have all her familiar accouterments —husband, son, and home. Dad gave us no choice. “It’s a done deal.” We moved 150 miles northeast on Highway 66 to Miami in the corner of Oklahoma touched by Kansas and Missouri. Dad said this city of 10,000 people prospered from cattle and lead mining. For a town of its size, it had more millionaires than any other in the state. We saw that reflected in its busy Main Street shops, a city airport, bus 201 line, the number of chauffeur-driven cars, and the multitude of estates with their parklike lawns. In Miami, Mother loved her spacious, two-story brick home. She settled in by finding the best grocer for deliveries, a stylish hair salon, the friendliest neighbors, and a young housemaid. Mother said, “Life is better here.” I was happy for Mother but distressed over the disruption in my daily life. I enrolled in Miami High School, but I missed my friends, my school, and my town. I wanted to go back and walk up Tiger Hill and smell the aroma of oil drifting in the air. My separation from the familiar stirred up my restlessness. Dad called a family conference. He and Mother agreed that I could return to Drumright and graduate if I completed my junior year in Miami and worked on construction at the B.F. Goodrich plant during the summer. Springtime arrived early in Oklahoma that year, the winds softened and the white buds on the wild plum trees appeared like confetti tossed in the air. One Saturday in April, I walked into Wiley’s Pharmacy, and at the soda counter I met a young lady like no other. Barbara Louise Switzer—sky-blue eyes, black hair, pink cheeks, she was a tall, willowy girl brimming with delight and mischief. She wore a blue-and-purple summer dress with white lace at the sleeves. Barbara was a force one couldn’t ignore at Miami High School. In the following days I noticed her emceeing assemblies in the auditorium , playing a cello in the school orchestra, acting in student plays, and winning first place in the class tennis tournament. She often created banners to announce student meetings or sports events. Most attractive to me, I never saw her without a friendly smile. The following Saturday, I asked for a date and within a few weeks we became a couple. We walked close to each other, her hand fell naturally into mine, and I sensed a mutual bond. We dated through the spring and summer, and her sunny temperament bedazzled me. My 202 heart beat with a rush I had never felt before! I remember chattering with happiness, thinking an angel had brought us together. But my inquiring mind asked, “Wait a moment. Meet her parents. Gain some insight into the family.” I visited her home where I found her vital German father working in the garden and her auburn-haired mother busy keeping Barbara’s younger sister and brother corralled. The Switzer family was open and relaxed with me. During the hot summer months I worked on construction at the B.F. Goodrich plant placing all my earnings in my college savings account. During this period of burdensome labor, disturbing thoughts floated up from my past. Though I wished to forget, the memory of my birth mother’s love still lingered in my mind, but her leaving without an explanation had left a raw wound. I was torn by conflicting emotions: I loved Barbara with a boundless passion and craved her warmth but felt wary of commitment. Would my unsettled nature disillusion her? Would she reject me as my mother had done? My orphan years had left me with inexpressible fears. Barbara learned that I was adopted, but she was not dismayed. She said when she saw me and Dad together, she knew he was my...