Bill's beginning...

Bill was born in a small town of 3000 in 1964.  The town was surrounded by apple and cherry orchards and most incomes came from those crops. The seasons of an apple orchard are like different costumes pulled from a trunk.  The trees begin in spring wearing white blossoms buzzing with millions of bees.  When gazing at an orchard from above, it resembles a field of clouds.  Summer brings waves of green and those little green apples that God didn’t make.  I have been told that thinning apples in the summer heat is one of the nastiest jobs ever.  You must leave only a few apples per bunch to ripen or you have a tree full of tiny apples.  The orchards, though beautiful, are filled with pesticide, snakes and heat so dry and high, you must quit by noon or cook. In autumn the orchards come alive with workers, mostly poor souls from Mexico willing to break their backs for meager wages.  I loved sitting on my hill above the orchard during harvest listening to the workers sing in Spanish as they filled their picking bags.  I enjoyed watching the big freight trucks being filled with apple bins lifted by forklifts by more singing workers.  Winter was the season that the orchards seemed naked.  A few year-round workers came through pruning branches, but mostly the trees stood quiet and bare with a deer or two pawing at the ground below in search of old fallen fruit.   

Bill grew up on his family’s apple orchard and had what seemed to all a happy child hood.  He was close with his parents, sister, and his mother’s mother, Nan, who lived with them after his grandfather passed.  His grandparents had begun the family orchard in the 20’s and Bill’s father Hark took it over when “Pa” was too old to manage. 

Hark grew up in the south heading north only to end up in our teeny town selling shoes.  Here he met and married Addy, the first wife that I was oblivious about her existence for years into my marriage with Bill.  They had four children together, though I am not sure of the length of the marriage.  Maud, Bill’s mother told of her and Hark’s budding romance when she was only 19 and he was 31.  With the vague clues I was given and my simple knowledge of math, I came to the conclusion that Maud and Hark's “budding romance” began before the end of his first marriage.  Maud despised Hark’s first wife and the children that were created from the marriage.  She would drone on about what awful people they were yet never giving any of us lucky listeners grounds for her opinions.  Her years of outspoken non-tolerance of extra marital affairs began to make me suspicious. I had never met a more judgmental woman in my life.   It was only recently that I came to realize the depth of her hypocrisy and the sins she hid. 

Maud grew up on this family orchard as the only girl spoiled in a family of boys.  I was not told much about her upbringing from my family, who grew up in the same town, only that she was doted on by her parents and not well liked in high school.  After Maud and Hark met and were married, his ex moved away with the children.  Bill had seen the youngest boy once during a summer but he and I never saw the older siblings again until they were well into their 40’s.  Hark’s new marriage and subsequent family replaced his previous one and he had a minuscule relationship with those children if any. 

Bill was born in their first year of marriage and a few years later came Josie his younger sister.  Happy little family, two happy children, growing happy apples. 

Bill was graced with handsomeness at an early age.  Neither of his parents were striking individuals, homely even, but Bill seemed to be given their strongest traits, and when blended together, created a striking face.  He had his mother’s thick dark hair and deep-set brown eyes, his fathers prominent nose, and after 3 years of braces on little Bill, a drop dead smile. 

When Bill was a pre-teen he discovered that he was also athletically gifted. By the time he reached High School (ours had 250 students) he was a starter for both baseball and basketball and of course quarterbacks for the football team. This newfound talent thrilled his parents.  Hark had a brief baseball career in a minor-minor league and Bill’s adeptness to the game was a dream come true for him.  Maud bought every Oakville High School coat, sweatshirt, pin that was sold.  They hauled lawn chairs, filled the tank with gas and with Nan in tow too, never missed one of Bill’s games.  During this time-frame is when the true colors of Bill’s parents were said to have been seen by many an Oakville fan.  Hark screamed at any umpire idiot enough to blow a whistle at his son.  He berated coaches from the stands, even dared scream at other players…on the same team.  This almost led him to blows with another player’s father at one event and they were both ejected from the game.  Maud, on the other hand, was more subtle about her opinions.  She was Queen of the side-handed compliment.

 “Joy, your Bart out there made a great play even if he isn’t as fast as my Bill.” 

 publicly dig it up while bundled in her Oakville blanket sitting amongst the other mothers.

 “I believe our coach is hitting the sauce again, he is making terrible decisions.” 

“I don’t know what the other mother’s are thinking, that little cheerleader doesn’t look a day pregnant.”

 Maud herself told me of the day she cornered Bill’s baseball coach after a game and angrily asked why another boy was playing catcher and not Bill.  (Bill was playing 3^rd base by the way, but it must not have been as an important position according to his mother)  When the coach explained that the new catcher could get the ball to 2^nd base a hair faster than Bill and that Bill’s talents would help the team more at 3rde base, she began screaming so hard that she actually spit on him a couple of times.  The coach suggested the family see a counselor and Maud, to this day, hates that man’s guts. 

Bill’s athletic talents easily provided him with the status of “Stud of Oakville”.  He was the boy most sought after by the Oakville girls.  Many a high school girl had written “foxy” under his face in annuals. Girls called his house and hung up giggling if he answered.  Groups of tipsy girls used to drive to his house and dare each other to tap on his window.   I was only a freshman by the time he was a senior, and I couldn’t count how many girls had huge crushes on him.  I never would attempt even a glance at him back then, fearing that I was so far out of his “league”.   I watched him from afar as he would date one lucky girl after another, yet always it was known he had other girlfriends in neighboring towns at the same time.  I figured he was just so good looking that he couldn’t help himself.  GAWD I was naive. No, I was completely stupid. 

He graduated from our tiny school and went to college on a baseball scholarship.  He partied and slept through fall and winters quarters so much so that by the time spring and baseball rolled around, he was uninvited from the team.  So back home he came with his tail between his legs, to attend our small local college and be where everyone still idolized him.  He made it to enough classes locally to keep his grades up yet still partied like a rock star and dated only the prettiest of girls. I never thought I would be one of them.