Date: Wed, 5 May 2010 16:13:44 -0600
From: dnrock@rock.com
Subject: Chinook 8

Chinook
by:  dnrock(dnrock@rock.com)  Edited by: Matt Templar


8: "For the times, they are a changin'."  Bob Dylan

Time, first Friday of July.  Place, Calgary Stampede.  The Stampede is held
at Stampede Park, just south of Downtown.


"Look Mamma, those are the boys in the pictures. See, I told you," a seven
or eight year old boy was saying, while pulling his mother toward Royce's
paintings.

They were hanging in the main floor of Hall D, in the Round Up Center at
Stampede Park, along with other "western art", at the 2004 Calgary
Stampede.  The two most popular were one of Rom laying in the straw with 8
puppies crawling over him and one of Cliff feeding Zephyr a carrot.  In the
former, Royce captured the joy of the puppies and the child so perfectly,
you could almost hear his laughter and the puppies' yapping.  In the
latter, that love, trust and closeness between child and young animal stood
out.  The emotion captured in expression and cast of the eyes spoke to
anyone who ever bonded with a pet.

The image of two naked boy butts standing by a swimming hole, ready to
jump, was featured in the Western Art Gallery display of Royce's work.
Each year they featured an artist of the ' western art' genre.  That year
it was Royce.  He was also one of the youngest to have that honor.  In
addition, lots of his stuff was on sale including subscriptions for the Boy
Series Folio A.  Several of Royce's mountain scenes were in the big art
auction that they also ran. (see calgarystampede.com)

.............................

Many people were coming up to Royce and the boys to meet the artist and, in
that case, the models.  Everyone wanted to know if Zephyr and Blueberry
were their horses and if Tumbler was a real dog.  Was Royce their dad?  Did
they live on a ranch?

.............................

In the picture of the two naked boys at the swimming hole, Tumbler was
already in the water.  Being a Golden Lab the dog loved water almost as
much as he did Rom.  The swimming hole was a small pond in a coulee
(ravine), on the next section west of the ranch house, where Royce, Junior
and Mary-Jo swam as children, where Harland and his siblings swam as
children and his dad and uncles when they were children.  The weather was
not quite hot enough yet for Rom and Cliff to actually have swum when it
was being painted, but Royce had ridden over to it with them.  It still had
a thick rope hanging from a large Cottonwood that leaned gently over the
water.

Chickadees were in the spruce trees eating pine seeds from the cones.  Not
the Black Capped Chickadees but the Mountain Chickadee.  Its markings are
slightly different, although recognizable as a member of the family.  Due
to the recent drought, the spruce were showing the stress by producing an
over abundance of cones.  Royce worked from photographs to get everything
just right.  The boy series was so real and so detailed many people had to
look twice to be sure they were paintings and not photographs.

These were not nostalgic pictures or true renderings.  The things in them,
clothing and the like were contemporary but the ideas were timeless and
universal; universal in the sense that all boys did those things or
fantasized about doing them.  The images evoked nostalgia but in a
contemporary context.  In the swimming hole painting the boys were naked
and by a pond.  The modernity was fixed by Royce's inclusion of an "ipod"
and a cell phone, neatly placed on top of a heap of blue jeans next to
riding boots.  Royce was a fourth generation Albertan, almost a rare
commodity in modern day Calgary.  He could have easily set the time of the
paintings in his or his father's childhood days or even his grandfather's.

He always included some small details to set that context; in addition to
many small and carefully added details, such as insects, wild birds or
small mammals.  Royce's work drew the viewer into it.  The viewer might be
about to look away and would notice some minute detail, not recognized
before and was drawn back, deeper into the image.  There was no doubt in
the viewers mind, the artist was there, at that place, at that time.  The
place was real, the time was real, the emotions invoked by line and color
were real.  Not only that but the emotions or feelings the viewer brought
to the image were reflected back to him or her with the understanding that
the artist experienced those same feelings.  The paintings had
universality. They spoke to the viewer irrespective of culture or location.

..........................

The boys and their new cousins, Emma, 8, and Jessica, 10, had a wonderful
time up and down the midway with Aunt Mary-Jo.  The girls liked riding
Blueberry too but they really liked the roller coaster.  Aunt Mary-Jo was
the only adult that appreciated the rides.  On a few, Emma and Rom did not
meet the minimum height requirements but...

.......................

"What do you think about all this, Marcy," Royce asked his sister-in-law?

"I think I'm proud to know you and be your sister-in-law and not just
because you are a talented and well known artist but because you are such a
good person," Marcy replied.

Royce began to protest.

"No, it is true," she countered, "You not only did your duty, as you say,
but you have gone and will continue to go well beyond that.  Now escort me
to the rodeo, please," Marcy admonished.

Everyone was thrilled to be sitting in the infield seats for the rodeo
events.  Close enough to smell the sweat of the riders and the animals,
close enough to taste the dust.  Rom was even more thrilled every time the
announcer mention that this or that mount was raised at the Evers "Lazy E"
Ranch.

Following the ten days of Stampede and after Junior and family returned to
Edmonton, Royce and the boys settled in at the Lazy E.


Da...Da...Da.....Da .... Da...Da...Da.....Da (Royce's cell phone plays
Beethoven's 5th opening phrase as a "ring tone")

"Royce Evers."

"Yes Dr. Wharstone, we are all at the ranch."

"In a coma . . . a stroke you believe . . .  Any chance... Okay, I'll round
up the tribe and we'll head back into town as quickly as possible."

Royce found his dad, called his sister and brother and rounded up Cliff,
Rom and Tumbler.  Several of the hands offered to care for the mounts.

As much as one tries to prepare for the death of a loved one or even a
close friend, it is at best only intellectual gymnastics.  Royce knew this.
He was prepared to help the boys, he was prepared to deal with the
paperwork, he was not prepared to deal with the loss and pain he felt
within himself.

Jewely lay in a coma, she looked so thin, pale and peaceful and so lonely.
Cliff was doing his best to be brave while Rom pressed his face against
Royce's chest, tears in his eyes.

When they returned home that evening Tumbler seemed to sense all was not
right with his boy buddy.  He was as subdued as Rom, keeping close by him,
knowing his presence would somehow provide comfort for an emotion his
little, not so little anymore, puppy mind could not comprehend.

"Dad, can I sit with you?"

"Sure Cliff, come over here."  Royce pointed at an overstuffed chair next
to his easel.  "Can't sleep?"

"No.  You can't either?"

"I guess we both need to come to terms with reality, each in his own way."

"Is that why you're painting?"

"Yes, son.  It's the only way I know how to deal with this."

"Is that what you did when your mom died?"

"Yes, Cliff.  I came home and stayed up all night making that portrait of
her, just like this one I'm doing of Jewely.  Do you want to express your
emotions in some way?"

"Yes, but I can't draw or paint like you.  What can I do?"

Royce reached for his ibook and handed it to Cliff, "Why not write a poem?
You don't have to make it rhyme, do it in blank verse.  Like the Time poem
from the bible."

"I'll try but can I have a hug first?"

"You can have as many hugs as you need."  Royce swept the boy from the
chair and settled down in the chair engulfing Cliff in his arms.  "You know
you can cry if you want, I won't tell anyone."

"Is this the hardest part, you know, the waiting?"

"I think it is son, but not as hard if she were in pain.  A coma is like a
long hard sleep but without dreams."

"Aunt Mary told me your mom was in lots of pain and under very heavy
sedation.  She said that was the hardest part for her, for all of you, not
being able to do anything to help."

"True, but over the past several months you have been able to help by
keeping your mom an important part of your lives.  We all did as much as we
could.  You and Rom never need to feel that you ever let her down, ever."

Royce woke up some hours later with Cliff cuddled against his chest.  'He
may be almost 12, and thinks he is almost grown up but he is just a little
boy,' Royce thought.  'No matter how old we are or how much experience we
have, we are all still little boys in some deep, dark corner of our inner
selves.'

Royce rose, carrying his little boy, and slowly made his way to Cliff's
bedroom.  Harland was snoring on the sofa.  Cliff clung to him as he lifted
the boy into his upper bunk, kissed his forehead and placed the guard rail.
'I won't be capable of doing that much longer,' he thought. 'He's growing
and getting heavier every day.'


Harvey came as soon as possible, a day or so later, to help comfort his
friend.  He leaned into him and opened his mouth as Royce thrust his tongue
into it.  They started a long deep kiss as their hands began to explore
each other's bodies.  Royce felt his friend's hands undo his belt, and
quickly open up his trousers.  Then Harvey broke their kiss and dove head
first down onto Royce's freed, throbbing penis.

"Oh yeah, suck me Harvey!" Royce whispered as he felt Harvey's moist lips
slip down his shaft as he expertly took Royce's whole 19 + cm (7 + inches).

Harvey's hands furiously opened up the buttons on his own jeans, revealing
that he was going commando.  He slipped his jeans down below his butt,
while he tugged on his own cock.  He released Royce's cock from his mouth
and panted, "Royce, I want you in me, now!"

"You got it man," Royce replied as he slid down and stood directly behind
Harvey with his pants and thong around his ankles.  Harvey shed his jeans
and got on all fours waving his glorious ass at him.

Royce quickly fumbled in his pocket for the lube and condoms. He ripped
open a condom, quickly sheathed his pulsing cock, then Royce opened the
lube and spread some into the crack of Harvey's magnificent bubble butt and
started working the lube into his waiting hole.  Royce mounted him, sliding
into his vice-like anus.  Royce started pumping with an earnestness that
only comes from deprivation.

"Oh yeah!  Fuck me, Royce!  Fuck me hard!" Harvey continued to articulate.
Within seconds he was moaning, which continued until Royce ejaculated,
going limp on his lover's body .

"Okay, now it's time for you to fuck me," Royce said when they finally
caught their breath.  That Harvey did filling his buddy's butt until spent
himself.

That was a good thing.  It was also not such a good thing.  It was good
that Royce could get it on with his friend and his friend with him.  It was
good Harvey had closed the Rundle file; he was free to socially interact
with his friend and with the boys.  It was not such a good thing when Rom
came into the family room finding his dad and his former social worker
naked and intimate.

"Can I take my clothes off, too," Rom asked?

"Well you can but we're getting dressed," Royce replied.

"Can I play too?"

"We will play with you Rom but not sex games," Harvey said.

"Why, Mr. Fanto?"

"First you should call me Harvey or Uncle Harvey, now that I am no longer
your social worker; okay?  Now, men, well, any adult, especially adults in
positions of trust and authority, are not allowed to have sex with
children, even if those children say they want it," Harvey explained.

"Aw-w . . . why is that?" Rom asked.

"It's against the law, for starters.  For me, as a social worker with
children as clients, it is also highly unethical.  Just like for dad's, it
would be illegal and unethical," Harvey said.

"Okay, I guess I understand but you still like me, don't you?" Rom
questioned.

"Absolutely, little man.  I still like you and your dad loves you.  That is
all the more reason neither of us can have sex with you.  Children aren't
able to make decisions like this, in the eyes of the law anyway; just
because they might make those decisions out of fear that the adults would
somehow reject them if they said no.  That is a position neither of us ever
want to see you or your brother in," Harvey explained.

"I get it, but you can still hold me on you lap and give me hugs and
kisses; right?" Rom replied.

"Right."  Harvey swept the boy into his arms and kissed his cheek, hugging
him mightily.

Rom sure liked that.  He liked physical displays of affection from others,
especially those he was emotionally close to.  Harvey liked it too, for he
truly did like children, just not as sex objects.  He understood the charm
and beauty of a child's body and the feelings of affection he had toward
them.  He knew better then anyone, except possibly Royce, the emotional
venerability of this lad's present status.  He was also revolted by the
thought of any action he might take that would harm, in any way, any child.
If this child was 15 or 16 and a homosexual or bisexual and interested in
him, well, he might, probably would, have a more difficult time saying no.
It might be a bridge to possibly be crossed in the future.

It took about a week to get the funeral all organized.

Schoosh -woosh - clickity clack - clickity clack - schoosh - woosh - ding,
ding, ding.  schoosh - woosh.

"Royce Evers.  How can I help you?"

It was Hadley Samuels, one of Clark's brothers-in-law, calling on behalf of
the family.

"My in-laws are just too embarrassed to show their faces at the service,
I'm coming to represent the family, if you have no objection."

"By all means, Mr. Samuels, please come.  I think it will help the boys to
heal if you do."

"Can you give me directions?  I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with
Calgary."

"No problem.  The funeral home is easy to find.  When you come into Calgary
on Mcleod Trail, just stay on it to 50th Avenue SW and turn left, which is
west.  50th is the avenue with the high tension power lines running along
the north side of it.  I would get into the left lane soon after you pass
Chinook Shopping Center. Its north end is 58th.  Go west on 50th to Elbow
Drive; that's about six blocks.  The funeral parlor is H&M on the north
east corner, so you can turn in, right, just before Elbow.  It's a low, red
brick building."

"Your notice indicated no flowers?"

"Yes, the boys thought it best if people made donations to AIDS research in
Jewely's name instead.  We will have some forms here and you can do it by
mail if that helps," Royce replied.

"Yes; it helps a lot."

"You can help me if you will.  I would like to borrow a photograph of
Clark, if you have one; something like a graduation photo.  Jewely didn't
have any portraits of him," Royce said.

"I think my wife has one.  I'll do the best I can..."

Royce took the boys to the Hudson Bay store in Chinook and purchased dress
clothes for all three of them.  He decided on light blue shirts, dark blue
(navy) blazers and slacks, black shoes and red ties.  Everything matched
between them.  Harvey volunteered to be the master of ceremonies and would
introduce the different speakers.  Several of Jewely's friends and former
coworkers wanted to give brief eulogies, as did Royce and each of her sons.
Harvey would sum up in the role of recanter.

The room was a simple, non-denominational chapel.  In the center was a
small table with Jewely's ashes in a simple pottery jar, made by one of
Royce's artist friends.  Behind the table was Royce's portrait of her, on
an easel.  It was a very large painting that totally dominated the room.
The room was surprisingly full.  Royce had no idea how many friends Jewely
had, or how many people were there for the boys, too.  Most of the staff
from Earl Gray Elementary were there, as well as everyone from the gallery,
the Black's, about six from Social Services, dozens from the AIDS Society
and so on.  Royce was impressed with the number of Cliff's and Rom's
schoolmates that managed to attend.

Junior had put a very nice obituary in the Calgary and Cardston newspapers.
That also subtly let everyone know the boy's new surname.  Jewely had no
living family, having been raised by elderly foster parents in Nova Scotia.

Hadley was gobsmacked when he entered the room.  He was one of the first to
arrive and, never having met Jewely, was completely overwhelmed,
gobsmacked, by her presence portrayed in Royce's painting.

Royce had a technique or way of painting the eyes, giving them drama and
clarity, almost as if they were alive.  He captured in paint the kind of
riveting gaze photographers feel fortunate to achieve.  One famous example
was the picture of an Afgan girl that appeared on Time Magazine in the
90's.  That cover photo was so haunting it achieved several photo
journalism awards.

Charley Black handed Harvey a piece of paper, asking him to work the
announcement into the end of the service.  Cliff read his poem based on the
"A Time For Everything" biblical passage and Rom had a short monologue
talking to his mother.  He told her he would miss her and he would only do
things that would make her proud of him but mostly she would always be with
him in his heart and just in case he was forgetful, "Dad painted this huge
portrait of you, a real nice one, to remind me and Cliff of you, Mom."

Harvey recounted the praises and the qualities that would be missed.  Then
he noted that the Clark and Jewely Rundle Memorial Foundation had been
established to circulate local art to extended care facilities through out
Calgary.  He thanked everyone for sharing their memories and invited
everyone to the wake that followed.

Most people did not come to the wake but Hadley did and the Blacks, etc.
It was a good time and people got to know each other.  Hadley got to know
the boys a little and talked with Royce.  Royce learned that the lies and
deceptions extended way back.  The Rundles even forbid Clark's sisters from
communicating with him.  The Rundle's lawyer had passed a copy of the
transcript to him and his brother-in-law, since they knew the truth...

"The true irony of this is that there is no way the Rundles can pay off the
mortgage in their remaining working lifetime.  Nor can they sell the place
to finance their retirement.  The irony comes from the fact that before Ed
forced Clark to leave, he assumed the boy would take over the farm, buying
him out so he and Sam could retire in the British Columbia interior.  He'd
even picked out a place near Calona.  The Rundles have lived on that land
since the 1920's.  Ed's rejection of Clark's desire for an education had
been foolish.  He had wanted to study Agriculture at the U of A.  The land
will eventually be owned by his grandsons but I doubt they will ever live
on it.

"I think in the beginning he thought Clark would come crawling back,
begging forgiveness.  Ed is a very controlling person.  Clark was just as
strong willed and determined, I guess.  It broke his sisters' hearts not to
open those cards and letters.  About a year after he left he tried calling
for the last time and I happened to answer.  Being alone at the time we
talked a bit.  He was saddened by Ed's attitude but was not all that
surprised.  He told me he worked as a rig hand, was making good money and
had a good future with the company.  He was just as determined not to crawl
back, as Ed was that he should.  Ed's problem was that he has always had
his own way and had everyone cowed to him, me included," Hadley said.

"I can't imagine my mother going along with that kind of behavior toward
us," Royce replied.

"Sam was just so caught up in her fundamentalist religious belief, Ed was
the head of the family and his word was law; by the time they learned Clark
was dead, I guess it was to late.  All I can tell you is Thor and I have
been put on notice, not that we needed to be.  Sam is one very bitter
woman, we are too and between us, Ed is in some form of social hell.  He
never told her about his response to the letter or that the money he was
spending was from Clark's inheritance.  Had we known that we would never
have accepted it," Hadley continued.

"I realize that.  The boys and I don't want any hardship placed on your
family either."

"Thanks, but Sam has made it absolutely clear to Ed he and he alone must
repay the money.  Thor and I will need to give him a hand in the fields but
it is his responsibility and no one else's.  Like I said, he may not live
long enough to ever atone, in her eyes at least.  I'm not even sure if she
lets him make simple decisions like what shirt to put on.  By the way, are
you intending to paint a portrait of Clark?"

"Yes, that will be my next project.  I thought the boys should have one
hanging next to Jewely's."

Royce had one of his brilliant flashes.  He would scan all the portraits on
a big flatbed scanner and create a large photo montage of Clark, Jewely and
the boys.  Clark's sisters would like that, he thought.  Clark's mother
would like that, he knew, and Edward, well, it would be Royce's
contribution to the man's atonement and torment.

Later that afternoon, Miss Black was playing a few songs on her piano,
which Royce had tuned.  It didn't take long, however, before her arthritis
got the better of her hands and she had to stop.  Much to everyone's
amazement, including his, Rom, who had been sitting next to her watching,
began to play the same songs almost perfectly.  Royce had thought both boys
would benefit from music lessons, something the Evers kids never had, due
mostly to the ranch's isolation.  Now it was obvious that Rom, for one,
would get them.  Everyone present had heard of people who could play by ear
but Rom was the first person any of them actually knew.

Cliff, Emma and Jessica had been playing with Tumbler in the yard.  By the
time they came in Rom had moved on from repeating the songs he had just
heard to playing all kinds of melodies from the TV and radio.  Royce could
see his technique was primitive and his small hands had some problems but
he just did what Royce had done when he was younger - he faked it.

"Mom played like that when I was littler, I remember."  Cliff's eyes were
getting wet as he spoke to Royce.  "She sold the piano not long after she
got sick."  Royce took the boy's face in his hands and brushed his tears
away with his thumbs and kissed his forehead.

"Would you like to make music too?"

"Yes but I don't think I can just play like Rom does."

"Music is just another form of art, Cliff.  Some people can express their
talent like Rom and others need to work at it a bit like me.  I wonder what
talent is hiding in Cliff"

"You mean you just didn't pick up a pencil and start drawing?"

"No, I did but they were not very good drawings.  As a matter of fact my
first efforts were terrible.  I had to spend hours practicing and in
courses at school to get good.  Ask Dad if you don't believe me."

"What if that talent isn't music or art?"

"Well, son, that doesn't mean you can't become competent at an art with
training.  It might make a nice hobby.  As to music, perhaps it would be
with some other instrument; a wind or string.  Have you ever tried them?"

"I did real well in grade 5 when we had recorder lessons but the school
board cut the program; too expensive."

"Look, if you want, we can look into winds, perhaps the trumpet or
saxophone."

"Okay, but what if my talent is more along the lines of training animals or
something like that?" Cliff asked.  He was still not all that sure about
this talent thing.

"That's okay.  You can still have music as a hobby.  Look at me.  I do all
kinds of things besides art.  I think you just have to go where your
interest leads you; the only way you can find that path is to keep trying
new things.  Hey, I know, how about the drums?  I've always wanted to try
playing them.  We could take lessons together."

"Sure, why not.  I sure like making noise anyway," Cliff agreed.

"Royce, thank you for having us here this afternoon," Miss Black said, as
she was about to leave.

"You are welcome any time, you know."

"Thank you, Royce.  I sure like the way you redecorated.  I guess the place
must have looked like a mausoleum with all that old dark furniture."

"Thank you, but it is Harvey who you should complement.  He oversaw the
decorating.  He keeps reminding me - my artistic abilities stop at the
canvas.  By the way, do you know any music teachers in the neighborhood?"

"Why yes.  James Edwards.  He was the bandmaster at Henry Wise Wood High,
until he retired a few years ago.  He lives on the other side of the school
grounds, at the other end of Hilgrove Crescent, a few doors down from 96th
Avenue.  He would probably come here though."

"I'll look him up, and, thanks again."

Cliff went flying past his dad to catch Miss Black as she getting into
Charley's limo.  He came back carrying a book.  Royce gave him the raised
eyebrow question look.

"I had to thank Miss Black for the book."

Royce didn't know she had even given him a book.  He examined it.  It was a
book about geology, "Dancing Elephants and Floating Continents" (Key Porter
Books) by a Canadian author who had moved from geology to writing books for
young people.  His name is John Wilson and he lives on Vancouver Island, in
B. C.  The inside dust cover back fly had his picture and a brief bio of
Mr. Wilson.  Royce thought a bit - this name and picture struck a memory.

"Oh yes, I remember him.  He spoke to our grade 8 class.  He was with the
Alberta Geological Survey at the time and told us about meteorites and
meteors," Royce said.

No one was around to hear him say this, however.  Miss Black had placed a
book plate on the inside cover.  "Dear Clifford: Always keep your mind and
your heart open for new knowledge and inspiration.  All my love, Surrogate
Grandma, Dr. Mable Black."  What Royce or the boys did not know was Miss
Black was one the first women to receive a Ph.D. in Education from the
University of Alberta.  In those days there were not that many female
university students and even fewer going on to PhD's.  In fact, most
teachers in the 1920's only went to a one year Normal School, which was
just down the street from the University.

"Listen up," Junior boomed and all four children came to temporary
attention.  Even Tumbler gave up his tug of war, letting the old knotted up
socks fall to the ground.  "It is time for all good little girls and boys
to head for bed."

"Aw-w-w."

Royce realized, that was a universal child reaction and not related to
gender or age.

"Lets get moving, brush your teeth and get in your pajamas.  I'll read you
all a story," Mary-Jo offered.

Marcy and Junior smiled that sardonic, knowing smile of experience.  Okay,
if Mary wanted to take on four wound up, preteens and try to get them even
headed for bed, it would be her headache.  It was especially difficult
since the four children would be sharing the boy's room and bunk beds.  Two
sisters and two brothers, each taking a bunk.  It would be hours before
sleep overcame them.  Grandpa would be required to tell them at least four
of his "shaggy dog stories" before Morpheus even got remotely close.

Royce assigned his bed to Junior and Marcy, Dad to the sofa, with Royce and
Mary-Jo camping in the basement family room.  Mary had the sofa bed and
Royce would be in his sleeping bag on an air mat.  Harvey excused himself
about that time and headed home.  He wanted to spend more time with Royce,
but he also had to work the next morning.

Royce had to admit his sister was a good-looking woman, a little on the
short side for him.  'Vertically challenged,' as she would put it and, if
she wasn't his sister, he would sure be trying to get in her pants.  She
had a very nicely shaped bust line, a moderately high cheeked butt, well
defined and smallish, boyish and ordinary female hips.  Like all the Evers,
Mary was not heavy or fat but looked healthy and fit and, in her case, she
was.  He quietly wondered why she never had any relationships that lasted.
'Probably the same reason mine never lasted either,' he reasoned.

The nearest veterinary school was at the University of Saskatchewan in
Saskatoon.  (Since this was written the University of Calgary has opened
one.)  He knew she dated lots of fellow students; some of whom he met and
even liked.  Over the past three or four years, she didn't seem to have
much of a social life.  Mary rented a small house and lived alone.  She was
probably too independent and overly dedicated to her sick patents.  Royce
wondered if her increasing interactions with the boys would change her
life, like it had his.