by Bert Carson
“Here’s another possibility, the University of Montana,” I said. “We haven’t checked them out, might as well get their catalog, too.”
The catalogs from Dartmouth and the University of Montana arrived the same day. We never considered Dartmouth after we saw the University of Montana material. A brochure, called The University of Montana Viewbook, included in the information packet, sold us.
Bobby read aloud from page 15, “At the varsity level the UM Grizzlies compete in Division 1 of the NCAA and are members of the Big Sky and Mountain West conferences, respectively. That’s it,” he said, abruptly closing the brochure. “A Division 1 football team, this is, without a doubt, the place we have been looking for.” He handed the brochure to me. I flipped through it, stopping on page seven.
“Hey, listen to this, Superstar, if you can get football out of your head for a minute. ‘One measure of the outstanding quality of teaching in the college is its twenty-three Rhodes Scholars. This remarkable record ranks UM sixth in all public institutions in the nation.’”
Bobby laughed, “I don’t see what that’s got to do with football, unless Rhodes Scholars play football.” Immediately he was so caught up in his joke that he couldn’t continue. I ignored his laughter. I was still studying the brochure.
When I looked up from The Viewbook I said, “I think you’re right. This is the place for us. One of the last points in the brochure is the suggestion that prospective students visit the campus before making their decision. Let’s do that.”
Bobby replied, “The sooner the better. We’re halfway through March and there will be a lot to do if we’ve going to make the fall registration deadline.”
“I can take a few days leave this coming week and I’ll bet you can get out of school for a day or two without jeopardizing your graduation or causing you major grief at the loss of class time. Let’s go Thursday or Friday.”
Chapter 8
I was at my desk in the corner of the living room, when Bobby came in the following afternoon. “It’s all set,” I said. “We’ll leave Thursday morning, fly to Salt Lake City, change planes there and fly to Missoula. We’ll spend Friday on campus and Saturday check out the city. Early Sunday morning we’ll fly out of Missoula and be back here Sunday night before midnight.”
Pretending great disappointment, Bobby said, “That’s all right, Daddy…but I sure hate to miss two days of school…” He lost his composure and laughed. Through the laughter, he managed to add, “I’d much rather miss three or four.” Unable to continue, or to stand, he sat down in the middle of the floor. I bent down beside him and began to tickle him. That quickly turned into a wrestling match, which left us both in hysterics. When we finally caught our breath, we looked at each other and Bobby said, “It’s been a long time since we laughed.”
“I guess it’s been a longtime since we had anything to laugh about, son.”
********
The flight was fun, not because there was anything special about it but because it took us out of the routine that had become a constant reminder of our loss. Somewhere along the way, we discarded the weight of the past and began to focus our attention in the present, and on our future. At Salt Lake City, we changed planes for the flight to Missoula.
The flight attendant on the Missoula flight commented at our lightheartedness, “You two must have a big weekend planned in Missoula. Are you going fishing?” Before either of us could answer she added, “I guess you have to be going fishing. What else could you do in Missoula this time of year?” As she walked away, we looked at each other and smiled.
We had no expectations so disappointment wasn’t a possibility. It’s just as well that we had no expectations, since none could have lived up to the reality of Missoula and the surrounding countryside. We stood outside the terminal of The Missoula International Airport and gaped at the landscape. Finally, I said, “Now I know why they call it Big Sky Country. There is no way to capture this in a picture or painting or explain it to anyone who has never seen it.”
“If you haven’t experienced it, you’ll never understand it,” Bobby added.
When I called the University Admissions Office to arrange our visit, I had talked to Janet Middleton. She had recommended the Red Lion Inn. We rented a car, got directions to the Red Lion and drove into town, still gawking at the sky and the mountains. As we checked in, I said, “It’s easy to see why Janet recommended this place.” Squatting solidly on the west bank of the Clark ForkRiver, the Red Lion commands a view of the mountains to the north and the city itself to the south. The UM campus is immediately across the river from the hotel.
The desk clerk told us there were two ways to reach the administration building. We could drive east on Van Buren, the street in front of the hotel, and turn left at the first traffic light, or we could walk two blocks north on River Street, the street that ran beside the hotel and cross the footbridge that connected the campus and the city.
Before going to our room, we walked to the footbridge. In the center of it, we stopped, listening to the spring-full Clark ForkRiver rushing beneath our feet. I gazed toward the mountains and then the campus, thinking, this could be a scene from a painting or a postcard.
Bobby pointed toward the campus and said, “Look, there’s the football practice field. Let’s go check it out.”
I laughed and said, “Let’s check out our room first.”
Bobby, remembering that he was hungry, quickly agreed.
In the room, Bobby grabbed the room service menu, quickly scanned it, and then gazed out the window toward the campus. “I’ve got a great idea, Daddy. Let’s not worry about finding a house. Let’s just live here, at the Red Lion. It’s close to the school; it has a great view, maid service and food.”
I threw a pillow in his general direction. “At least you have your priorities in order, first your stomach and then your feet.”
“Speaking of stomach, Daddy, that ‘snack’ we had on the plane disappeared about the time we landed here.”
“I’ve got it,” I said. “Let’s find the mess hall before you pass out, and I have to carry you.” I turned for the door with Bobby two steps behind and gaining.
********
Finding the Admissions Office was easy. To the young woman at the counter, I said, “Good morning, I’m Josh Edwards and this is my son, Bobby. We’re from Alabama. We have an appointment…”
Giggles interrupted me. Her hand flew to her mouth, “Excuse me, Mr. Edwards,” she said, as she blushed. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just that you don’t have to tell anyone you are from the south.”
I laughed and said, “I guess the accent does give me away.”
She offered her hand and said, “I’m Janet Middleton. I talked to you earlier this week.” I shook her hand. Before I released it, Bobby moved up beside me and said, “Hi, Janet, I’m Bobby.” As he spoke, he took Janet’s hand from mine and shook it. Instantly, Bobby captured her with his infectious smile. Forgotten, I stepped back and watched, thinking, this is the best thing that could happen to him.
Finally Janet pulled her hand back and shyly said, “It’s good to meet you…uh, both of you.” There was a long moment of silence then Janet said, “I might be able to leave the office for a few minutes and show you around the campus. Would that be all right with you?”
“Sure,” Bobby gushed quickly, without realizing the question had been directed to me.
I said, “That’d be wonderful, Janet.”
She smiled, turned from the counter and disappeared into an adjoining office. We overheard her whispered question to a supervisor, followed by a short stint of silence and then a muffled response and finally Janet saying, “Thanks, I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
Bobby’s face brightened when he heard that. Janet returned, saying, “I can do it, but only for a few minutes, so let’s go.”
A whirlwind tour of the campus confirmed what I already knew. The University of Montana was the place for our new start. I looked a
t the mountains that backed up to the north side of the campus and thought, ‘this must be how the men of the Lewis and Clark expedition felt when they came through here.’
“Overwhelming, is the best one word to describe Missoula, and the university,” I told Bobby, as we left the campus. Now let’s finish our paperwork and hope that we are accepted.”
“There won’t be a problem with that, Daddy. Janet told me they haven’t turned anyone down for admission in years, except for scholastic reasons.”
I laughed, “If you don’t get back in gear young man you might find yourself in that category. It would be a shame if I had to enter UM alone while you repeated the twelfth grade in Alabama. I’m not sure how I’d explain that to Janet.”
Chapter 9
We couldn’t sleep on the return flight, so we talked long past the point of coherency, and then talked some more. We ran on sheer excitement for days after our return to Alabama, days filled with plans, action, and more plans.
A week after our trip to Missoula I was sitting at my desk filling out another in what had become a seemingly endless parade of forms. Without realizing that I was speaking aloud, I said, “Forms, forms, forms… I’ve never seen so many forms before and I’ve been in the Army for over twenty years.”
Bobby, lying on the floor in the middle of the room, looked up from his history book. I pointed to the stacks of forms and other paperwork that covered my desk, “Selling the house, completing my retirement, entering college, moving to another state… it goes on and on. There are at least a dozen forms for everything.” I looked at him and added, “You’re lucky, Son. All you have to do is play all-day, every day.”
With a look of mock indignation plastered on his face, Bobby said, “Play, Play? I have you know I take tests, and fill out forms…” He paused, grinned and added, “And I work. Heck, I even have to go to the prom Friday night.”
That got my attention. “I thought you’d decided not to go to the prom. What happened to change your mind?”
In an instant, he was serious. “Nothing I could put my finger on. Going to Missoula just made me realize that it’s time to leave here, to start over. Everything here reminds me of mother and for a while that made me feel sad. Now I’m beginning to remember the good times again and that’s what I want to leave here with…memories of good times. But I don’t want to run away. I want to do it right, and that means the prom, graduation, and even the graduation party.”
“I understand,” I said softly. “Now I’m going to let this paperwork rest until morning and I suggest you do the same with that book… which shouldn’t be a problem, since you haven’t turned a page in the last thirty minutes.”
He laughed and let the book fall. I asked, “By the way, who are you taking to the prom.”
“Ashley Harrison.”
“Not Colonel Harrison’s daughter?”
“Yep, that’s the one.”
“Well, I guess that’ll make my retirement mandatory.”
I was only kidding and he knew it. Bobby and Ashley had been friends for as long as either of them could remember. Army Aviation is a small community and her father and I had known each other since my first tour in Vietnam, when he was a Captain and my company commander.
We both laughed and I leaned over and reached under the desk. When I straightened, I had a football in my hand, which I quickly threw in his direction. With lightning reflexes, Bobby raised his hands, and caught the ball two inches from the tip of his nose. “You’re a little rusty, Kid. I almost got you with that one. You need practice, NOW!” We moved for the door in the same instant. For a second or two we jammed in the doorway then we blasted out into the bright spring afternoon.
********
Despite frequent complaints, I finished all the paperwork, the house sold two days after I put it on the market, and I worked my last day for the U.S. Army. Though Bobby didn’t elaborate, I knew the prom had been a solid success. At my retirement party, Colonel Harrison gave me a beautifully framed photo of Ashley and Bobby, taken just before they left the Harrison’s home for the dance. As I was leaving the officer’s club, after the party, the Colonel said, “Let me walk you to your car, Josh.”
We were halfway across the parking lot before he spoke again. “Josh, there is no way I can tell you how lucky I feel to have had you in my command all of these years. You are a good friend, one that I’ve always known that I could count on. And, Josh…”
I looked at him and said, “Sir?”
“I just want you to know that if I can ever do anything to help you and I find out that you didn’t call me, I’ll kick your butt.”
We laughed, both of us understanding what he really meant. I managed to say, “I understand, Sir.” Then I saluted him for the last time.
*********
The rain held off long enough for the one hundred and eighty members of the class of 1992 to receive their diplomas and throw their rented caps in the air. I found Bobby after the ceremony. He handed his diploma to me as he said; “Now it’s all done, Daddy.”
I held him in a long bear hug, and then with hands on his shoulders I held him at arm’s length and said, “It’s time to build something new, Son.
*********
The following day we drove out of town for the last time. At the city limit sign, I pulled to the side of the road. We both turned and looked back. “Bobby, it was good and it was bad. The most important thing we have to remember is that it is over. We can only live in this moment. No more looking back.”
Facing west, looking through tears, we began the long drive to Montana. Neither of us spoke for almost an hour.
Chapter 10
If you go the long way, it is 1,854 miles from Fort Rucker, Alabama to Missoula, Montana. We went the long way. We left Alabama on Sunday. At every opportunity, we avoided interstate highways, choosing the two lane roads and the little towns that had been bypassed in America’s haste to pave the land. It took almost five days to make the trip. We didn’t mind.
We hardly spoke the last three days of the trip. In the beginning, we talked about Kathy, attempting to catch her memory and define her spirit in words. Finally, we gave it up, satisfied that we each understood and sure that neither of us could verbalize it.
I thanked Bobby for being the wonderful son that he was and he thanked me for being a great father. I told him that I was looking forward to whatever lay ahead of us and he said he was excited. Finally, about halfway through our second day on the road we gave up all but essential talking, choosing instead to point, smile and gesture. That worked much better, so we stuck with it for the rest of the trip.
As we moved further west, we marveled at the vast openness of the country that was our new home. Late Friday afternoon we checked into the Red Lion Inn. After dinner, we crossed the footbridge and walked through the almost deserted campus. That’s when the reality of our new life began to sink in.
Though it was June, the air was still filled with spring. The evening was alive with the sounds and smells of civilization and wilderness, connected by the rushing river. The campus rested, waiting for the next invasion of students.
********
As we walked back across the bridge, I told Bobby, “The last words I remember saying when I left school were, “I hope I never spend another day in a classroom.” I have to take that back now. I’m looking forward to getting started if it will mean an end to this paperwork. This is almost a rerun of my first weeks in the Army.”
He laughed, “Daddy, I know none of this has been easy for you. And I,…I, want you to know, I couldn’t have made it if you hadn’t been with me. You have to be the greatest Dad anyone ever had…and you’re my best friend, to boot.” He grinned and added, “What a deal!”
Our eyes met for a moment then we both looked away. Finally, I trusted myself to respond, “Bobby, that’s a two-way street. Having you with me gave me both the reason and the strength to keep going. Anyway, I think we both agree that it’s good that we have each other. I d
on’t say it nearly often enough, but I want you to know, I love you, and I’m proud of you, Son, and I’m proud to be your Dad.”
With morning came a new round of paperwork. This time it was final admission red tape, finding a place to live, getting new driver’s licenses, auto tags and all the other tasks associated with an interstate move.
********
The house hunt ended our third day in Missoula. We had spent the morning on campus, me, finding my classes, Bobby, walking with Janet. At noon, we met at the footbridge and began walking back to The Red Lion. Halfway between the bridge and the hotel we passed a large, two story house that backed up to the river. At that moment, a tall, slender, sixtyish man, came out of the house and began nailing a “For Lease” sign on one of the front porch columns. We looked at each other and grinned. With Bobby hard on my heels, I walked through the open gate of the neatly kept house. Halfway up the walk, I spoke to the man, who was so focused on putting up the sign that he hadn’t noticed our approach, “Excuse me, sir.” He stopped nailing and looked at me.
“Yes, can I help you?” He asked, looking over a pair of half lens reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
“I believe you can. We’d like to lease the house.”
“Well, you haven’t even seen the inside.”
“Is it as nice as the outside?”
“Why, of course it is.”
“Then we’ll take it.”
“But you don’t even know the price.”
“Is the price in line with other rental property in the area?”
“Well, of course it is.”
“Then we’ll take it.”
The man pulled out the one nail he’d managed to get in before I called out to him. When he finished that, we were on the porch. I held out my hand, “I’m Josh Edwards, this is my son, Bobby. We’ve just enrolled at UM and we’ve been looking for a house. Not an easy job, by the way.”
The man laughed, “I understand. Normally all the nearby off campus housing is taken by this time. In fact, I rented this house a month ago, but something came up and the kids won’t be coming to UM after all. I just found out today,” he said. Then realizing that he hadn’t introduced himself, he added, “By the way, my name is Martin, James Martin. I’m a retired professor with time on my hands and a few pieces of rental property. Come on in, and I’ll show you around.”
