The “Odd Couple” experiment lasted less than a month… thank
God. When Chuck, my roomie, moved out of our apartment, I had no choice but to
do the same. But where would I go?
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| Brother Butch, circa 1985 |
I remember Bill coming to pick me up a day or two after
Chuck left. We drove to Butch’s house in Artesia, just a few miles away. Butch
is my oldest brother, 10 years my senior. Bill didn’t tell me the specific reason
for the visit, but I suspected it had something to do with me and my sudden
state of homelessness. I guess if he briefed me on the purpose for the visit
and Butch ended up rejecting the idea, that might make Butch look like a bad
brother. In reality, he had no real obligation to take me in. He wasn’t a part
of the process that brought me to California. He never signed-up for this. Why
should he be pushed into a commitment and sacrifice of this magnitude?
I hated that I was so dependent upon others for life’s necessities.
But I was still a teenager and a high school student. This uncomfortable
process was a part of my journey and it would serve to teach me some valuable
lessons in life, particularly the blessing of family and an appreciation for
those who sacrifice in order to help you along your path.
We walked into the house and I felt a bit on edge as we
greeted Butch and his wife, Ruby. A couple minutes of small-talk ensued and I
sat down on the nearest chair. Bill waited for Butch’s eyes to meet his gaze
and then silently, motioned with his head for Butch to follow him outside…
which he did, as they shut the door behind them.
I barraged Ruby with nervous chatter. I wondered if she knew what my brothers were
talking about. If she did, she didn’t let on.
Ruby and I had always gotten along great. Before dad died,
and she and Butch were still dating, Ruby babysat some kids on our street. I
would frequently wander over to keep her company and to help her with the kids.
I was only 10, but it kick-started our relationship and I was absolutely
thrilled when she and Butch got married a couple years later.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably more like 20 or
30 minutes, Butch and Bill came back into the house. I looked at Bill with
curious eyes and he said, “Are you ready to go?”
He must have said “No.”
We got into the car and I just looked down… a little
frightened and a bit depressed.
“Now where are we going?” I asked Bill
“To get your stuff.”
“Why?”
“To take it to Butch’s house. You’re going to live with
them” He said with a sly smile.
RELIEF!
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| Munson Boys Bob, Bart, Butch, Bill in 1975 |
Butch and Ruby’s house was very small… less than 1,000
square feet, I’m pretty sure. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom. I would
share a bedroom with my 4-year-old nephew and 1-year-old niece. The house
didn’t have a hallway. The kid’s (and my) room was right off the living room.
Butch and Ruby’s room was right off the kid’s room. Yes, you had to go through
the kid’s room to get to their room unless you walked through the kitchen to
get to the Jack and Jill bathroom, which led into their room also.
It’s complicated.
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| Me and Butch in Iowa, a few years ago |
The living situation was less than ideal for all of us and
I’m sure that was the catalyst for the lengthy discussion between my two older
brothers. It seems that maybe my move to California was turning into a burden
of unintended consequences for all involved. Nevertheless, I am so thankful for
the sacrifice that Butch and Ruby made to accommodate me during that crucial
season of my life. It brought me some much-needed stability.
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| Butch worked at LeFiell for 48 years |
Butch was/is the model of stability. He’s lived in the same neighborhood
and has been married to the same woman for nearly 50 years. He retired a couple
years ago from the job he started right out of high school back in 1967. He
worked for one company his entire adult life. He is and always has been my
hero.
I got my first job at a taco and hot dog joint called ‘Pup n
Taco.’ Or as we called it, ‘Puke n Taco.’ It was a somewhat popular chain
fast-food joint. I didn’t get paid much but I managed to save up enough money
to buy a 1966 Mustang for $600 dollars.
It was a pretty nice-looking car. Kind of a dark, dusty blue
and the body was in great shape but apparently the previous owner had done way
too much tinkering with it… trying to modify the engine and transmission… until
he ran out of patience and sold it off to some sucker.
The “sucker” (me), soon learned that it would break down on
a regular basis. Luckily for me, I was dating a girl whose dad was a mechanic
and he spent a lot of time with his head under my Mustang’s hood. His oft
repeated refrain was, “You should have let me look at it before you bought it.”
Sage advice but a tad too late.
Aside from all of the periphery issues of living
arrangements, part-time jobs, car troubles and high school… much of my focus
centered around the pursuit of truth and faith… of God and the Bible… of
Christians… of acceptable and unacceptable activities and behavior.
Because I had made the church the center of my activities
and the teens in the youth group as my primary companions… was I now a
Christian? A believer? A disciple of Jesus? I mean, I think I looked the part
and acted the part. I modeled my dress, my conversations, my activities and,
most importantly (it seemed), my list of “do’s and don’ts” after those around
me. I must be a Christian, right?
If all of that wasn’t good enough to make me a Christian, I
still had an ace in the hole. When I was about 7-years-old, I sat in that very
church one Sunday morning, a few years before dad died, and listened to Pastor
Osborne as he implored folk to come forward and get “saved” at the conclusion
of his sermon. I didn’t really understand all of that but a buddy sitting next
to me grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go.” And so we trotted down the aisle to
the front of the church.
My buddy and I got separated as some man took me in a back room,
sat me down, read me some Bible verses. He asked me if I understood what those
verses were telling me and even though I didn’t understand… I nodded in
affirmation. He then had me repeat a prayer. At the end of this activity, he
declared that I was now a “child of God” and bound for heaven. Cool!
So… I had that. But was that enough?
