3 Boys and a Boat
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Strange and interesting events occur and readers of all ages become mesmerized until the end. The first page and the last tie the ribbon around this wonderful story.
It is not your standard story … they become your boys.
Peggy W. Fellouris
The author is a former Family Therapist of numerous case histories and personal interactions. She has counseled over 30 years, saving most marriages. She also has assisted some through divorce mediation, aiding the children to have “two parents under two roofs”.
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3 Boys and a Boat - Peggy W. Fellouris
© 2013 by Peggy W. Fellouris. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 06/22/2013
ISBN: 978-1-4817-6055-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4817-6056-0 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4817-6054-6 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013910317
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Preface
Prominent Characters
Prologue
Section One: The Boat’s Berth 1970
Section Two: Back to School
Section Three: 1977 And Brought To Court
Section Four: The Growing Boys 1979
Section Five: 1980 Boys become Men
Section Six: 1984 Bad Things Happen
Section Seven: 1986 Grown Up
Section Eight: 1989 Family Time
AMEN: 1990
Dedicated to
Deborah and Anabel
Dana, Molly, Jared and Adam
Acknowledgements
My grateful appreciation goes to those who continue to encourage me to write and the many wonderful friends and comrades who assisted me in the presentation of my novel.
It has been said It takes a village to raise a child
and it certainly takes many hands and words of wisdom during the writing process to tell the story. I shall be ever so grateful to the manuscript readers, counselors, and researchers who assisted me.
Special appreciation to Cheryl, Pat, Nickie, Deborah, Marion, Annette, Rosemary, Norma, Mickey, Penny, Joe, Eddie, Jack, Mark, Henry, and Jorge, and the wonderful insight The Reverend Christopher Morck shared with me.
Sketch Artist—Norma Jean Oliver
And
The many who supported me in my endeavors.
Preface
Peggy W. Fellouris was born on the west coast and has called New England her home for many years. Having been a Family Therapist and a Divorce Mediator she has helped many individuals and numerous families through their difficult times hearing their various stories. Peggy is privileged to hold Ph.D. and other degrees. She was urged and encouraged to become a creative writer by her Instructors at Exeter College—Oxford University, England. Peggy has published three nonfiction books. This book, entirely fiction, is her second wonderfully, warm, family novel.
Several years ago she noticed a newspaper photo of some young boys and their boat. She often reflected on the thoughts of the youngsters and wondered how or if their relationship continued.
Enjoying many memories of her brothers, Bob, Tom, and Jack and watching them become fine men; she knew each chose a different role in life and likewise her grandsons, Dana, Jared, Adam and Joshua have given her snippets of their lives while watching them grow into adults and choosing an excellent education and goals in life. She has enjoyed pride in these men in her life.
Having some knowledge of men and their relationships while being a family counselor gave her many additional pieces and soon she felt the warm comfort of the feel good story of 3 Boys and a Boat. It was most enjoyable to write and now she’ll share the enjoyment through reading.
Prominent Characters
Jimmy Morelli
Jimmy’s parents Steve and Kathy
Jimmy’s sister Sissy
Jimmy’s Uncle Frank
Jason Springer known as Jay
Jay’s parents Richard and Jessica
Jay’s younger brother Timmy
Jay’s sisters—Mary and Christine (twins)
Jay’s Uncle Adam
Christopher Peterson Jr.
Chris’ parent Alice
Chris’ Aunt Betty
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Prologue
1990
This is the day that ends the first part of my life. All my longing, looking and caring for a father is over. My friends had a father, a fireman and mail carrier, me, I had a picture. The vicissitudes of being a single parent, however, never stopped my Mother from trying to be both mother and father.
Here I sit at 713 Briar Street, the house where I spent most of my childhood. Sitting in this old wicker chair holds many memories, sitting and watching the birds nest, mother bird feeding her young, when I fell off my bike another summer and broke my arm sitting and wishing it would get well. Yes, with the mirror on the table I sit tying my tie over and over until I finally got it. Yes, many memories. The house is comfortable not fancy, with the bedrooms upstairs and right on the edge of the park. The park was where most of my youthful days began and ended.
The summer sun is bright. My dark suit is warm. The tie is quiet in color. Maybe I’ll take my jacket off while I wait. It is quiet, just me and my thoughts. I seem to be fixated on how it would have been if my father could have contributed to my childhood, to us guys, me and my friends. If he had only rubbed my head and said Good son.
He could have helped me with my homework and even taught me to shave. Yeah, just joking around would have been nice.
I’ve often wondered if he had a passion about anything. Oh well, all that wishing and wanting has come to an end today.
Thank God for my friends, Jimmy and Jay, they’ll be there for me.
Section One
The Boat’s Berth
1970
Musketeer—Jimmy
The three musketeers we call ourselves. In fact our parents use the term since the three of us, Jimmy, Jay and me Chris, from the neighborhood, are together so much of the time. We three are only a few months apart and each with our own family celebrated our twelfth birthday. Being twelve is very important; you begin to think about being an adult and that’s cool, and yet your parents, bless them, continue to vacillate between your being an adult then a child. It is kind of nice. This was the year we got bicycles. We had talked obsessively for months after seeing the new Electra in the Bike Shop window. We knew for certain Jimmy would get one this birthday and Jay kept saying he knew his Mom would surprise him with one. Now me. Getting one was only going to happen if I kept my fingers crossed. Some days I kept them crossed all day and that ached, but I was certain it would work.
Then the day arrived. Jimmy’s Mom baked a cake and put twelve candles on it and a picture of a baseball. That night she prepared his favorite dinner. He just loves lasagna. All of his family signed his card. After the cake was served he said his Dad took him to the garage and there it was with a big red bow on the handlebars. Jimmy called that night, you could hear the happy forceful sound in his voice, and I got it.
We all knew what it
was and knowing the very next day we would have a ride on his new bike, his new red bike. How grand! And my fingers were growing together, crossed that is.
Two weeks later it was early afternoon when you could hear Jay’s Mom in the background saying, Now off the telephone, we’ve got company.
I knew just what Jay was going to say. Yeess, I got the green one!
Boy, I just knew those two fingers on the left hand were going to work for me. Six more days and I’d know for certain. My Mom is great; she always seems to come through. I blew out the candles and ran into the living room. There it was, with a big bow on the handlebars. The card said I was a great son. She’s the best Mom ever… I got the blue bike, just the one I wanted. I really hugged her and rubbed the fingers on the left hand. It was great actually owning it. Jimmy got a green one, Jay got red and I got blue.
Jimmy’s Dad, being a fireman, an important member of our community has more off duty time than most fathers. The firefighters seem to work two or three days in a row then have two or three days off; therefore he is available whenever Jimmy needs him and sometimes even when Jimmy doesn’t need him. Mr. Morelli, a big burley man, blue eyes and lots of black hair, frequently calls Jimmy to get a bucket and bring a sponge so Jimmy can help wash the car. Their car isn’t new but they keep it looking new. It is a 1950 Chevrolet, shiny black with automatic drive and white sidewalls. Jimmy is proud of that car. His Dad isn’t a martinet; he is clear and concise in the directions but never thoughtless or unkind when he talks to Jimmy. They get along well.
Jimmy’s Dad gives him fifty cents for mowing the lawn. First he showed Jimmy how to do the mowing, pushing the mower on the outside of the yard and back and forth until it’s done. The mower makes a funny clicking sound. They set a regular day and time, eight o’clock every Monday morning unless it rains. Jimmy has a bank in his room where he saves the money. It looks like a drum and sets on his dresser. It is really a good thing to have a job when you’re twelve.
Being a boy scout is important. You learn many things, like tying knots, trail finding, stuff like that, but mostly character building behavior. Being a member sets you aside; at least that is what Jimmy’s Dad says. He was a really nice guy who knows every thing; he was even a boy scout when he was young. He still has his scout ring and neckerchief. His Dad lets him wear the neckerchief with his uniform to the scout meetings. Jimmy showed me the ring one day. Mr. Morelli explains things to us but is never pedantic, making a big deal out of nothing.
He plays games with Jimmy, card games like rummy and cribbage. They go kite flying, bike racing, you name it and Mr. Morelli is there smiling and nice. He has taken us guys to the fire station and lets us up on the big truck and ring the bell. Sometimes we pretend we are driving it. He lets us slide down the pole. It is always a fun day.
His Dad showed him how to tie a tie and goes to all Jimmy’s Little League games. Mr. Morelli is not the coach, more like a cheerleader. Jimmy is really good at baseball. No wonder with the high school baseball team members living next door and always showing him how to throw and catch and a Dad always practicing with him. Jim’s Dad tells him he could be a professional ball player some day, if he keeps it up. Jimmy smiles and shakes his head is if to say I know.
His Mom, Mrs. Morelli, bakes cookies and gives us some. Jimmy says she is a great cook. She is always smiling. Her smile is so great you don’t even notice her crooked teeth. Mrs. Morelli has short hair, most of the women have long hair, but she says It just got in the way.
I like it whenever she invites me to stay for dinner. Yeah, Jimmy is really a good kid. His sister Sissy
is a pest sometimes trying to tag along, but Jimmy never considers it an onerous task when sending her home. He pats her on the shoulder and tells her he’ll play with her later.
You would know Jimmy immediately; he is the one who always carries his first base mitt. It seems like he has always had it, I can’t remember when he got it. One day we were walking along, going to the park, I asked him how come the mitt
? He stopped. With a sweaty face and the curl in the middle of his forehead looking earnest and very stern he answered, Being average height and needing a strong throw, you always have to be working the glove because first you catch the ball and then throw it fast. The catch is vital; you can’t play around dropping it or getting any other place on the glove.
So that’s Jimmy always on the ball no matter what. If it weren’t for Jay and me, I think he’d only play ball, but with us around he likes fishing and hunting when it comes in season, and that’s our thing. His Dad tells us the real fish biting season begins April first. We don’t need a fishing license until we’re eighteen and we each have our own fishing pole and a tackle box of hooks and lures. We can put them on the back of our bike and ride to the lake.
The Morelli family attends St. Anthony’s Catholic Church every Sunday. It’s the big brick church with the entrance on the side where most of the families from the neighborhood go. In the recesses of the basement are the Sunday school rooms where we would hide and play. Being close by, as acolytes we would walk over to see what we were supposed to do the next week. Always happy and smiling, Father DeFelice in his robe would give his respect
talk to us. Respect is always emphasized in church at least by Father DeFelice. Jimmy took the church seriously. He even said it was important to everyone. At twelve years old we didn’t discuss careers or even take occupations seriously, if we did Jimmy would be the one to mention it.
Jimmy was smart and had the most connections, a great friend and probably our leader.
It seems everything goes right with him and his family, you know everyone does their thing just the right way. Well, one time Jimmy confided in me that, well… he was in his room, when he heard his folks talking and it sounded a bit strained.
He heard his mom say, Steve, I saw the way you look at Alice Peterson.
His dad started denying it. Kathy, what do you mean?
You know what I mean, I saw it.
Look, I just feel sorry for her, raising that boy alone. That’s all.
That better be all. You hear me?
Yes, come over here
Then it sounded as if they were kissing, according to Jim. I just listened, not saying a word. I know those things don’t make you feel good.
Musketeer—Jay
Now let me tell you about Jay. First of all his real name is Jason, after his father, Richard Jason; his Mother’s father’s middle name is Jayson also, only spelled differently so maybe he got it from both sides. He tells that his parents named him Jay once conceived. The name really stuck; a first grade teacher tried to get him to change it. He was nice about it, but only answered to Jay. It seemed the young blonde teacher smiled as she called him Jay. Having children of her own, Mrs. Lawrence, considered the situation and made the transfer on his paperwork herself. No sense in having problems in the first grade.
Jay is tall, taller than most twelve year olds, good for a basketball player. His Dad, a mail carrier, put a hoop on the garage; they play often and include Jimmy and me when we are there. I think Mr. Springer was good and on an all star team in college. He has a trophy. Mr. Springer took us kids to Boston once to see the Celtics play. What a night! It was a playoff game with Philadelphia, the Celtics won. You can imagine the cheering.
No wonder Jay is tall; his Dad and Uncle Adam are tall.
Jay’s Uncle Adam brings his kids, Davin and Danny, to play there, too. Then we have enough to have teams. They are fun to be around. No one minds who is there when you’re having fun. His Mom keeps Jay’s little brother Timmy and his twin sisters out of the driveway. Jay’s sisters are named Mary and Christine. We call them Merry Christmas.
I guess they were born in December. His Mom is so neat. Mrs. Springer sometimes has tea parties for the girls and invites Jimmy’s sister Sissy, the twins and some of the others. She makes little sandwiches and buys Oreo cookies. She’s really neat! I just love Oreo cookies.
They have a lot of company and are always doing things, like cookouts and neighborhood gatherings. When anyone is sick or hurt, Mrs. Springer never procrastinates; she always takes food or flowers to them. She is pretty, too, with her long black hair in a pony tail and flowers or ribbons in her hair. They all dress less conservative than most and have an impeccable but attractive home. She treats you like one of her family whenever we are there. But be sure not to put you feet on the sofa.
Jay doesn’t boss you around as much as Jimmy, but he is smart and knows how to do many things. His Dad lets him use the tools and shows him how to make things. He even made a table, finished it, varnished it and it sits in the living room. They