OK, I’m backtracking a bit but it all fits in. It was late October 1973, early evening on a Thursday night. I had just gotten off work at the cafeteria at the Uniersity of Maine at Farmington dining hall. Getting sweaty mopping floors and washing dishes, working for the ARA Slater Co. was an ideal job for a sophmore in college who needed the money. It paid the rent, beer and gas and allowed me at least two free meals a day when I got the hours.
Wearily, I opened the door of the mobile home I shared with an ex Green Beret, freshly back from his stint in Viet Nam. Bill was at least four years older and way worldlier than I, having parachuted behind enemy lines in North Viet Nam. He had returned to college after his time in Southeast Asia to get his BS in education. The stories of his near-death exploits in the war impressed and riveted me. Looking back, I wonder if most of them were fiction, but at 19 I was naïve, and swallowed all of it. I looked up to him like the big brother I never had.
Bill’s red Toyota Land Cruiser was parked in the drive so I knew he was home. As I pulled off my coat and collapsed onto the ratty couch in our tiny living room, I could tell my entrance had gone undetected. I was already to call out and say hi when I noticed the unmistakable moans and thumping sounds emanating from the bedroom at the far end of the mobile home. The whole place shook rhythmically. This was not terribly surprising or unusual, since Bill was a creature of habit, often finding a young coed to satisfy his urges. He had regaled me with stories of the many brothels he had visited on leave in Saigon. Apparently, he had more women than I had socks, but changed them considerably more often.
I was already to leave and let them have some privacy, when the young woman he was with screamed out his name in passion. At that moment I instantly recognized her voice. I had been dating Gayla steadily for nearly two months. Incredibly hurt, angry and outraged, I suppressed the urge to burst into the room and tell then what I thought of them. Instead, I turned and left, opting for a long walk around the campus to lick my wounds and absorb the shock.
Later, when I confronted Bill, he dismissively told me he’d done me a favor and I’d get over it. In the long run, getting over her was no big deal, but I never got over Bill’s callousness. My admiration for him had instantly evaporated. As it turned out he was just another prick I’d crossed paths with and my naiveté was forever diminished. Expecting more of people has always been one of my flaws.
Ironically, he was right, though. He had, in fact, done me a favor.
About two weeks passed after that episode and I had spent most of that time brooding. I was too hurt to risk another relationship right away, but eventually the loneliness got the best of me and I was soon dating again. After all, the ratio of women to men at UMF was 5:1. Good odds in any book if you’re a guy. I wandered into Lockwood Hall on one of my long walks around campus. I had made a date for the weekend with someone new. But the date with Jama wasn’t supposed to happen until Saturday.
It was Friday night; I was off work and bored. As I walked into the lobby area, I noticed three girls watching TV in the lobby so I plopped down in a chair and just started in talking with all of them. One in particular looked somewhat familiar, but so cute I initially thought to myself” “She’s out of my league”. But what the hell, there was a dance being held at the Dearborn Gym. I didn’t typically care for dances, but it was something to do.
They introduced themselves as Madeline, Denise and Char. All three were nice enough but there was something special about that petite brunette, Char. Dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and baggy jeans, her big white smile, dark brown eyes and hair made her irresistible to me. After making small talk for a few minutes gathering the nerve, I got up and started out the door.
Casually as I could muster, I turned and said, “Hey Char, want to go over to the dance with me?” Without hesitation, she replied, “No, thanks I’m pretty tired, maybe some other time”. “Ok, right, some other time” I said, trying valiantly to shrug off the rejection.
As I headed out the door, I remember clearly, I was in the airlock between the inner door and the outer glass doors, when I inexplicably turned around and went back to ask Char one more time to come with me. I didn’t realize it then, but life as I knew it was about to change forever.
It was one of those moments in time when you really don’t understand yourself why you did what you did. As I turned back and opened the inner door, I gestured to Char, “Oh come on !” and in an instant she was on her feet, saying, “Ok, ok gimmie a few, I have to go change.” I don’t recall making it to the dance that evening, instead just walking the campus with Charlyn Mary Lombaerde, getting to know the woman I would spend the rest of my life with. It wasn’t long before we made plans to marry.
This made my decision to work in the Allagash a bitter-sweet one. She would return to her parent’s home in northwest New Jersey for the summer and I would spend nearly three months in the woods more than 500 miles away from my future wife.
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