Brandy's Writers Cramp

I write ... therefore, I am. These works will be fictional, slightly non-fictional or ... thought provoking. Enjoy!!

Thursday, March 22, 2018

Family Feud


FAMILY FEUD(s)!!!

by
B.D. Adams
©2018


   How can families just go along? Not faultless … not perfect … just family.
   My immediate family is my son and his family. He and I have been through the trials and tribulations many mothers and sons have gone through (and other combinations). Not perfect, but love was always there.
   Once he realized that I was not just a crazy-old-woman, the lightbulb went on for him! Then, once his children came along, he actually calls me for MY advice about childcare. Amazing how that works.

And the survey says?

   Because my husband and his son have the same first name, Dan will be for mine and Daniel for the younger. He is married (Dan and I attended the wedding in CA) and has children, but only one more than my son.
   The very nice thing for Dan is his son can talk “car.” Daniel will call his dad to pick his brain about cars, engines and other things. One thing Dan would really like more from his son is to spend more time together – on the phone or in person.  

And the survey says?

   One situation that really makes this a Family Feud, which has grown thorns in the family -- has to do with Dan’s daughter. Yep, I’m bringing this up. The feud with her began about a decade ago.
   In the Spring of 2007, after Dan and I moved to Alton Bay, his daughter came to see our house by herself. Her husband didn’t come with her and neither did either child (two at that time). She had visited at the cottage a couple of times from where we had moved.  
   Dan gave her the tour of the property and the house and garage. At this point, everything was regular.
   There was something personal Dan and I wanted to tell her. We had discussed this and decided we should let her know. I had tested positive for HPV. Neither of us knew anything about this virus, so we were concerned. I was scheduled for a biopsy to better determine a diagnosis.
   With what Dan and I decided, I told her this. Our intention was for her to support her father, if I did, indeed, have cancer. He loved his daughter and hoped for her moral support, if needed.
   Well, I no sooner got the words out of my mouth, she yelled in anger at me!
   Dan and I had had no idea that she’d react this way! She accused me of only wanting sympathy!! 
   "That’s all you want!!!" she yelled.  
   Dan was beside himself!! He couldn’t understand why his daughter was so rude and hateful to me, which could only include him. Those were his thoughts. There are a few other items, but what I have typed now are the main issues for Dan. What she doesn’t know is I had tried to get him to talk to her.
   She gave a milked down version of what I’ve just typed to her brother and her sister-in-law. She said I was the one who yelled. I had no reason to yell at her, except to get her to quit yelling at me AND her father.
   Am I faultless? No, I am not. His daughter really pissed me off when she accused me of only wanting sympathy. She also bad-mouthed HER mother. I wasn't close to her mother, but she needed to be more considering of her mother! 

And the survey says!!!

   Son Daniel and his family do not live in California any longer. They are in Tennessee – much closer to us. Dan’s daughter doesn’t live in Vermont any longer. They live in New Hampshire, but south from us. Wouldn’t it be nice to have all the families around? Perhaps even with my son?

The survey says?
A modern extended Family!!

   I could give a rat’s ass what she thinks about me, but her father would be more than pleased if she’d make nice to me. She had told me in an email that she never wanted to hear from me ever again. I have honored her wish. Haven't contacted her for 11 years.
    If anyone reads this and speaks to her, let her know that I DID TRY to get her dad to talk to her. With her attitude towards me, though, her father was in no way anxious to ever be around her again. 

Dan and Brandy's Home



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Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Maple Leaf




Autumn Leaf

By B.D. Adams
©2017

A
s usual, I sit at my dining table to visit FB and do some writing. The table is by the double glass doors, so I can look out at all the trees in my world. A lot of green with the new sprinklings of color – autumn colors.

This morning, I merely perused at my view. Nothing special, but the season is changing.

Then, I saw across the yard as a red maple leaf let go where it had hung. I became intrigued with it while it fell from branch to branch.

It didn’t dive bomb to the ground! Was lazy … casual … as it made its fall. The light breeze allowed it to dance a bit … resist its final fall.

I felt somewhat sad for the leaf. It was completing its destiny, as it goes for leaves. No sadness – no sadness. An important cycle to create fertilizer for the ground under the tree.

A breeze carried the maple leaf a few feet from the tree. Many leaves had begun to change color in the tree.

Alas, the leaf floated to the ground. By standards, a short journey. Nothing special, but a meaningful journey.


Autumn is with us.





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Thursday, June 15, 2017

Abstract Art



Hans Degner
An Abstract Artist



Hans Degler 2016

by B.D. Adams ©2017

A
 person becomes an adult. With all the intended work ethics, he works hard and makes a success of his life. Became a builder, a construction business. Satisfying, however, something lacked. Spent twenty years at his vocation – a provider for his family – made his parents proud!
   Then a decision was made! A change was made … a choice that was good, but not of the norm!
   This is how it has gone for Hans Christian Degner of Copenhagen, Denmark. He was born in Denmark. He is now an artist – an Abstract Artist. He has studied fine art on his own and at Aarthus Art Akademi in Aarhus, Denmark. On the Mainland – on the peninsula. This is an accredited school known throughout the world. 
   He closed his construction business in 2006 when he chose to put paint to canvas, or any other format. His paintings began to sell in 2009. A tedious time for this serious artist, but he prevailed!
   As an accomplished artist, Hans’ work has been deemed awe-inspiring, as well as profound. His eye for color and design has taken him to the realms of Pollock, Picasso, and Renoir.
   Hans has displayed his paintings all over Scandinavia, as well as all over Europe. The style he has embraced is of his artistic personal way. He has had paintings shown in Orleans and Paris, France -- Geneva, Switzerland – Stockholm, Sweden – London, England – to name a few. With the popular attention his work has generated in these areas, his paintings have been described as “moving … beautiful … powerful.”
   Hans Degner is the new generation for abstract art. With his success in Europe and the U.K., he wants to become better known all over the world, especially in the United States. He wants to add the art lovers of the United States to his list of fans.
   His work is on Facebook and he can be contacted via:



Hans Degler


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Saturday, May 6, 2017

Rich Or Poor


What is a Rich Man?

By B.D. Adams
©2017

H
ow can you meet a rich man? I don’t know.
   One woman, I met a long time ago said, “You have to think rich.”
   “Think rich? Like, think about gold and diamonds?” I wanted to verify.
   “No, silly. It’s just a metaphor,” she said.
   I was impressed at her word usage.
   “Like going to polo matches or to art museums?” I asked.
   She gave me a quizzical expression. I understood.
   In my mind, how you live your life would determine if you were rich or not. Money and wealth can be some of it, but the way a life is carried out might be the biggest definition!
   Don’t get me wrong. Financial wealth is not to be sneezed at. That is freedom. That is the difference between hamburgers and lobsters (or any other analogy).
   I understand the idea of “Think Rich.” A woman should dress to impress with that idea. To look rich is as important as the thinking part. Wear silk or cashmere, Chanel or Ralph Lauren! Personally, I love the feel of silk.
   And wear only real jewels – real diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds. The choice of perfume is important, as well.
   Stay away from K-Mart or Walmart. Hey, I shop at those stores, but then I’m not trying to snag a rich man.
   Of course, honesty and communication would be a plus, no matter if the man is rich or not. Those qualities should be paramount!
   What kind of man do I have? I have a man who is honest, communicates very well, and truly loves me. In other words, I have a rich man!!



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Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Another Book Excerpt


This is an excerpt of my next, not finished, novel. Frank Roselli was on his way to the beach cottage he and Katherine, his ex-wife, owned and shared. Myra, his live-in girlfriend had just dumped him for Jack, his long time best friend. They were on their way to Los Angeles where his friend had just landed a better position with an advertising agency out there. 

Frank went to the beach cottage to clear his mind. Ease his wounded ego.

To Cross That Bridge 
by
B.D. Adams


Chapter IV

   Not speeding this Thursday afternoon, but Frank maneuvered his red, Fiat Spider. His 1978 Spidereuropa, with the black top down, zoomed around vehicles on Ocean Parkway. He even wore goggles when he drove the car – to protect his eyes, of course. The wind in his hair tantalized!
     Frank mused: ‘Frank Roselli has pulled in front of Mario Andretti. They had been see-sawing for the lead in the last five laps. Can Roselli beat Andretti? Not yet – Andretti has the lead again. Wait a minute – Roselli has moved to the outside – he has a nose lead! They’re now side-by-side. They’re coming to the checkered flag. And … and … Roselli wins! Roselli wins! Frank Roselli wins The Monaco Grand Prix!!’
     Frank put his head back and made the crowd noise, the cheering crowd! He had to do this more often, he smiled with a happy sigh.
     He loved driving his Fiat like a race car in Monaco, France. Unfortunately, he had never been to Monaco. He and Myra had been making plans to go to Europe. He wanted to visit Italy again, now he was a grown man.
     Not in his madras shorts, he wore his khaki cargo shorts, a light blue T-shirt, and his leather Dockside shoes.
     He had gone the distance down Ocean Parkway on Jones Island to the obscured dirt access road to Oak Beach Road to go to the cottage. Just another 300 yards east of the Community Center.
     He kept mulling over the recent crap with her, Myra. He was more than glad that he decided to keep his private bank account to him only. She cleaned out the shared account, though. He could file a domestic complaint, but it was a shared account. What she did irritated him, but was it worth to file a lawsuit? Why did she leave him?
     Stop that, he scolded. No more Myra. No more Jack. Only Francis Roselli from now on.
     Francis pulled into the long driveway to the back door of the cottage. The front neighbor’s cottage was between the beach and their cottage. They allowed him, Kathy and their friends, to go down their path to the beach when desired. It didn’t look like the neighbors were there. That was good. They always liked to banter with him – be nosy.
     This cottage, his and Kathy’s, had been built several yards to the left behind the front property. However, the ocean was very seeable. He would do a lot of writing while there.
     Anxiously, impatiently he opened the screened door and unlocked the wooden door. Inside, the window over the sink was opened – there was a puff of a breeze, a little less stuffy. With a minor survey of the inside, everything seemed to be as it should. He carried his duffle to the inside of the cozy, comfortable cottage. The ceiling was faux-vaulted in the main area. A nice touch.
     Beginning with the window between the apartment sized stove and refrigerator and the small bedroom, he opened it wide. Then he moved to the living room area windows – one on the west wall near the bathroom and the two windows beside the front door.
     Just an average cottage of the 1920s. One airy bedroom, which was fairly large, with a queen-size bed and a good sized closet. The other bedroom was just a bit smaller than the front room, like a den or library. No bed – two armchairs and a small table with a lamp. The sofa in the main area made into a full bed, if needed. The matching overstuffed armchair added to the coziness of the area. In the cedar chest, in the front bedroom, there was a queen-size blow-up mattress. Came in handy many years ago for a beach weekend with friends. That was a fun weekend!
     This cottage was built in 1922 – the time of Gatsby. It was furnished, decorated in that era. However, definitely not meant for year round living.
     It was sturdy enough, though. As it was, there were oak hardwood floors, well-constructed walls of modern sheet-rock, not plasterboard, tall windows of 1920s vintage. There was very creative, outside bric-a-brac. Inside, the original cast-iron claw-foot tub with copper fixtures was spectacular!
     An article was written about the cottage by the local tabloid. He and Kathy bought it, had painted, repaired and put in a small shed that housed the beach chairs and other items. Not many of the older cottages were still in existence.  That was sad.
     In the bedroom, it was clear that Kathy had left the room spic and span after the tryst with her new boyfriend. Clean sheets on the bed, comforter neatly folded, as usual.
     He tossed the duffle bag onto the queen-sized bed. Raised those windows. Ah … refreshing!
     His curiosity got the better of him, though, as he went to the bathroom.  Even here, there wasn’t any telltale evidence that a man had been there. Frank shook his head. Did he really want to see remnants of another man?
     He and Kathy still had a kind of – affection -- for each other, which irked Myra at times. But could Frank and Kathy evolve back to something more? Especially now, with Myra gone.
     He must forget those thoughts!
     The little writing desk was still by the front window way to the left where he could look out at the beach and the breaking waves. He could gaze out when he needed a break. The laptop was placed there.
     In the kitchen, as in the bathroom, neat and clean. Frank opened a cupboard to see what might be there for food. Canned tuna, canned pork and beans and -- what’s this? A can of B&M Brown Bread.
     Bread in a can? Who was this guy she was dating? Was he someone from upstate … The Adirondacks? Frank shook his head with a tsk-tsk. Should he worry about his ex-wife? No … not now. He would open that can later to see if it was, indeed, bread.
     The fridge was empty, plugged in, but empty. He’d go to the little convenience store to see what he could buy there. Only going to be there for a few days.
     Looked into the cupboard by the sink where a few bottles of alcohol would be kept. Ah, yes. Half-gallon bottles mostly full of whiskey, vodka, rum and scotch, his favorite. That new guy must not drink much. That was good for Frank.
     The cottage felt more welcoming now with the windows opened, so he unlocked the front door and opened it wide. Then went through the screen door to step out onto the narrow porch where two white painted, wooden rocking chairs were. He just stood on the porch, leaned against one of the porch posts, to enjoy the ocean breeze. This was what he needed after last night.
     The sun was more to the west, over the city. A few seagulls flew near to the porch and screamed to him, so he imagined. They hoped he would throw food to them.
     “Go away you moochers,” Frank said, “I might have food for you later.” He laughed, but not heartily. Since he read that damned “Dear John” note, what did he have to laugh about? He smiled anyway. A smile came more easily made than a laugh.
     He would survive even this.




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Thursday, February 2, 2017

Days Gone By - Memory


Memories of Days Gone By
B&W TV Commercial

By
B.D. Adams ©2017

   For those who remember photo albums filled with B&W (black and white) square photos with beveled edges, then you’re around my generation. It is amazing what we remember.
   When I was fairly young, we had a B&W Zenith television that sat on a rolling cabinet. Actually, it stayed in the living room – never rolled anywhere except to have the floor vacuumed underneath.
   Color TVs were way too expensive -- so said my parents. I didn’t mind, just having a TV to watch all the cartoons and kid programs was a treat. Like Mighty Mouse, Popeye and Bugs Bunny along with Hopalong Cassidy, Lassie, and Sky King, to name a few.
   With these memories of B&W televisions, this wonder came to my mind’s eye. How do I remember my past? Is it in color or in B&W?
   The first time I ever saw “The Wizard of Oz” in color, I was mesmerized!! So wondrous!!
   One thing I remember the most, along this line, was a TV commercial that advertised color TVs. By Zenith, by chance, and the commercial was in B&W:

            The announcer begins – “Zenith Televisions are ahead of the time … blah … blah … blah.”
            As the announcer continues his spiel, the camera pans back to show a football field, empty with no players, just the field with the uprights at the far end zone.
            Then the announcer hits the viewers with a definite guilt trip that no parent wants, as he asks,
            “Do you want your children to grow up thinking football is played on gray grass?”

   As a child, and then as an adult, that commercial rather stuck with me. When my son was born and when I got older, I began using color film in my dinky Kodak camera. Of course, as I became a pro photographer, color film was primarily used.
   I asked my son once how he remembered his world as a little boy – I had taken photos of him in B&W, as well as color. With evolution, he remembers his life in color.

   Nice how those memories grow.

Son, Jacob, and Mom, Brandy 1985




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Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Article -- Protests



To Protest or Not to Protest –
That Is Not the Question!

By
B.D. Adams  ©2017

   There are many reasons to protest in the world. For more understanding, more righteousness, more justice. Some reasons are extremely hard to comprehend --- ISIS or ISIL, for example.
   When there are even two people who do not see eye to eye, an eye for an eye confrontation can occur. Even with the non-violent protests, violence seems to rear its ugly head.
   And, with these thoughts, differences of opinion are more common – and as ridiculous.

** Several Readers might deem me as anti-veteran. That was and is the farthest from the minds of MOST people I know and knew. We wanted the war and discriminations to end – peacefully. However, the angry activists got more attention. **


   When I was 20, I decided I wanted to go back to Texas, which made my mother deliriously happy. I had been attending Ohio State University in Columbus OH. I had experienced the protests/ riots against the university and the establishment and the Vietnam War. Those were our reasons in 1970.
   For my (ahem) personal reasons, I went back to Ft. Worth, Texas. My mother and younger brother, Eddie, lived there.
   I hadn’t gotten that far in college, so I got a waitress job at a Big Boy Restaurant. I wanted to decide what my major should be in Texas.
   My brother, age 17, and I had rapport back then. He worked in a grocery store so his days off and mine did not coincide. He wanted me to meet his supervisor.
   Finally, we had days off at the same day. His coworkers were considerate. To me, though, it seemed some of them weren’t sure of what to say to me. I passed it off that they didn’t speak “northern.”
   Then Mr. Murphy, the supervisor, came to meet me and speak with my brother. The man seemed nice. A little older than me and my brother, but that was all right.
   Since my brother was an assistant manager, someone got his attention.
. Then, Mr. Murphy and I were left to each other.
   “I guess you’re not new to Texas,” Mr. Murphy said.
   “No, sir. Was born in Ft. Worth,” I said nicely.
   Perhaps, he thought he needed to show me what he knew about “the north,” so he commented, “You got tired of all the craziness up north to bring you home again.”
   “Excuse me?” I asked rather surprised.
   “I’ve seen the news about all the college riots up north. You were in New York – right?”
   “There were riots in New York. Columbia University. But I wasn’t in New York. I was in Ohio, the University of Ohio,” I proudly informed. “And, yes … we had student riots.”
   “Oh … right. Where those hippie protesters were shot for attacking the National Guard Soldiers.”
   I just looked at this man who really had no idea of what he thought he knew.
   “Excuse me, Mr. Murphy. The students were not hippie instigators. The killings happened at Kent State University. In Kent, Ohio. Many miles from Ohio State. Four students were killed by gunfire from the soldiers.”
   I didn’t berate him for his lack of knowledge or his self-righteous attitude. It was usually next to impossible to correct someone who is so entrenched in their beliefs. I felt it best to tread lightly.
   Thankfully, Eddie returned to rescue me from this man. I gave a small smile and shook Mr. Murphy’s hand. I had always been as polite as possible.
   As my brother and I began to turn away from Mr. Murphy, the older man flashed hand gestures to us. And he laughed heartily, belly laughed.
   Not all that aware of what the gesture meant, I asked Eddie, “What was that about?”
   “Nothing,” Eddie said quickly.
   “Well, Mr. Murphy seemed to think it was pretty funny. Tell me,” I urged with a smile.
   “You won’t like it,” he stated.
   “Hey, brother … I’m a big girl.”
   We were now in the parking lot of the store by his car. Eddie held up four fingers with one hand and with the other hand, he made a zero.
   “It means ‘Kent State zero, the National Guard four.’” Eddie was obviously embarrassed.
   “Next time I say I’m a big girl, tell me to shut-up.” I was calm and stunned.

   That man knew exactly what he was saying when he asked me about the universities and riots. He baited me – the girl-from-Ohio. I fell for his behavior, his country lawyer treatment. No, he was not a lawyer. But that is a good analogy for his behavior. He got what he wanted – his fun.

   I never let anyone bait me again.



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Friday, October 28, 2016

Young Love -- Finale


A Time For Young Love
Finale
        Or
What’s Love Gotta Do With It?

By
B.D. Adams ©2016

   Lucy’s graduating high school class had over 600 students and she was in the top 100. She graduated with very excellent grades, however, she didn’t graduate Summa Cum Laude. Her scores on the SAT were impressive, though.
   She was glad, but it really didn’t matter to her. She didn’t have her Roger.
   With Roger out of the way (of course, Lucy didn’t know about that), her mother had everything mapped out for Lucy. She planned to have her enrolled in TCU and spoke with the Tri-delta Sorority. This was her dream for her daughter.
   However, Lucy had other plans (her mother had no idea). Plans that did not include TCU, a sorority or Ft. Worth.
   For Spring Break in 1968 -- she wanted to go to Galveston, Texas. To visit Dobby, her paternal grandmother. Her grandmother had had that nickname since she was in college and Lucy called her that. A spry older woman in her 60s with snow white hair. She could pass for younger.
   Lucy was allowed to go to Galveston in her mother’s ’65 Ford Galaxy Coupe. Of course, Lucy had to swear she would be careful. Her mother couldn’t afford to buy another car. Plus, she had to swear she wasn’t really going to sneak a visit with Roger. (That puzzled Lucy.)
   Lucy swore to both.
   It had been a while since she’d visited south. She and Roger had planned to go there in his car, in order to introduce him to Dobby. Of course, that didn’t happen.
   Lucy loved this grandmother and going to the Gulf of Mexico beaches on Galveston Island. Great beaches and waves!
   Dobby and Papa lived, since their marriage in 1915, in a wooden clapboard, two-story Victorian house. Unfortunately, Papa’s untimely death in 1955 was more than sad. Lucy knew her grandfather, but only for a short while. Lucy knew he was in charge of their home.
   The house was in a cream color with accent, trim colors that subtly highlighted the house. The house always looked freshly painted. That always amazed Lucy.
   There were many properties like Dobby’s. Some of those houses in Galveston would rival the houses in New Orleans. The old Galveston streets were tree-lined with Oak Trees, Magnolia Trees, and Palms. And, like many of these houses, the inside was cozy – not sprawling large.
   With all the two story houses, there were porches downstairs and upstairs. Her grandmother’s downstairs porch went three-quarters around the house. The porch-less side had tall evergreen bushes.
   Lucy loved to sit on the back porch to eat Dobby’s waffles and drink freshly squeezed orange juice in the mornings. Her back garden was so soothing, so lovely. In the spring and summer, the fragrance of flowers, like honeysuckle, jasmine, and roses, filled the air.
   Lucy was elated to make this visit! Dobby. She always listened to her granddaughter, never berated her.
   Soon, Lucy pulled into Dobby’s narrow driveway. It was March, but warm for this early season.
   After several hugs and kisses, Lucy and Dobby sat with their filled ice tea glasses on the back porch to relax. For Lucy, to relax after the long trip.
   Lucy managed to confide to Dobby about her mother. She thought her mother was the reason Roger was so heartless to break-up with her -- the way he did.
   In her wisdom, Dobby played down the anger Lucy had for her mother. However, she understood this part of her former daughter-in-law’s personality.
   Lucy explained what her mother wanted for her and, on the flip side, what she wanted for herself. She told Dobby that she wanted to go to the University of Houston. Would she help out?
   Of course, she’d help her granddaughter. Then they could visit more often. Big smiles all around.
   They both did their parts to get the forms via long distance. Dobby signed the papers and paid for the first year’s tuition. That’s what Lucy had hoped for from her grandmother. Not expected, but hoped.
   When informed of her daughter’s alterations, Lucy’s mother and maternal grandmother were infuriated, to say the least. A lot of tears and yelling and screaming for two days. After the verbal mayhem, though, things calmed.
   Quite innocently, just before she trekked southward, Darcy was told by the girl who had introduced them that Roger had gone to North Texas, as he wanted.
   She was glad for him, however, she still felt sad. However, with the idea of change for her, she was more hopeful for her future.
   It was September 1968. Lucy took the train to Galveston, so Dobby to pick her up at the station. Then get her into her dorm room. Dobby’s car was a ’47 Chevrolet Sedan. Her jalopy she
teased, more to herself.
   Lucy was finally happy, not overly happy, but not as miserable as in the past months. She had always enjoyed time with Dobby!
   And she was away from her mother.

====

   Roger had stayed away from Lucy as promised. Oh, but he wanted to see her, accidently run into her. However, he knew that would be a disaster if Mrs. Coleridge or Mr. Edson learned about that.
   He might get another visit from him. He was a distinguished man but had the look of Al Capone when not happy – like when he and Mrs. Coleridge paid him that visit.
   Never again!
   From the girl who had introduced them, he learned that Lucy went to the University of Houston. Actually, that made him happy. A good school and not what her mother wanted.
   Good for you, Lucy, Roger silently praised at one time.
   Now, it was February in 1969 and Roger was knee deep in college himself at the University of North Texas. He enjoyed the curriculum, the campus, and his solitude. No one knew him – he was incognito. Just a handful of students from high school, but not any he really knew.
   He wasn’t employed in a hamburger place here but in a campus bookstore. Able to read any book he wanted.
   One afternoon, Roger got a chicken sandwich at the Dining Hall and went to sit on a bench outside near the Business School to eat in the nice winter afternoon. His canvas book satchel was rather heavy, so he rested it on the ground by the bench.
   It was cool, but the sun was warm. No heavy coat, however, he wore blue jeans, sneakers and a warm wool, bulky, pullover sweater with a scarf around his neck.
   It would be warmer in a month or so. Trees had no leaf buds yet, but the sky was cloudless. The sun felt inviting.
   There were people scurrying around and others who just sat on the other sporadically placed benches or lay on the grass. Sunning on the dead winter grass, but who cared. There were a few couples who talked, smiled and kissed.
   How he wished Lucy was there. He took a bite of the sandwich, chewed and closed his eyes to the bright sunlight. Took another bite.
   After a moment, a shadow came across Roger’s face – opened his eyes. He was quite astonished to see the face that looked down to his.
   “Hello, Roger.” A man in a corduroy zip-up jacket, blue jeans, and work boots stood in front of him.
   He swallowed his bite of sandwich and then steadily said, “Mr. Edson. What are you doing here?” Actually, he wanted to go screaming away from this hateful apparition. However, he remained seated and stared at the man.
   “Roger, do you know about Lucy?” the older man asked.
   “Is she all right? Has she been hurt?” Roger asked quite concerned. He sat more forward on the bench.
   “Do you know where she’s going to school?” Mr. Edson blandly asked.
   “Last I’ve heard was the University of Houston. Did she change?” Then he realized his question was ignored, “Is she hurt?”
   The man gave a cynical smile and said, “She’s fine.”
   Roger gave an audible sigh of relief.
   “How did you know that’s where she went to school? Are you in contact with her?” Mr. Edson’s face had that look of cold suspicion.
   “Mr. Edson, we have many mutual friends. One told me. That’s all.” Roger was now irritated that he was being interrogated by this man. He had done what he and Mrs. Coleridge wanted. Painfully, he had done the deed!
   Roger stood, gathered his book satchel, then stuffed his unfinished sandwich in the bag and said, “If there is nothing more – good-bye.” He had begun to turn away.
   “Roger, this is for you,” Mr. Edson said. “I’m confident you have truthfully stayed away from Lucy. So, this is for you.” No smile, but no frown either. He handed Roger an oversized letter envelope.
   Roger mindlessly, robotically took the envelope and asked, “What’s this?”
   “Oh, nothing important. This is from me. Mrs. Coleridge doesn’t know about this. Enjoy your schooling here. It’s a good school.” He gave Roger a confirming pat on his shoulder, then turned and walked determinedly away, quickly went around a building.
   Roger sat on the bench again. He felt rather numb – wasn’t sure if he should look into the envelope or just throw it away.
   Nonetheless, he opened the envelope.
   Money! A lot of money inside! Fifties and hundreds!
   Roger put his hand to his mouth – amazed, startled, wide-eyed! Why? Why would this man do this? Mr. Edson didn’t even like him, for crying out loud!
   Then it hit him like a sack of bricks. He and Lucy had made jokes that Mr. Edson could be a gangster. After all, he was in construction – built houses and commercial buildings. They had teased that Mr. Edson had shifty eyes -- like a gangster.
   What Roger held in his hand was his “pay off,” for breaking up with his love. Now … Roger was infuriated!

====

   It was now February of 1969. Lucy had a dorm room on campus, and thankfully, she had no roommate. She stayed there only to study. Otherwise, she was with Dobby.
   Lucy’s birthday had passed in December, now 18-years-old – a woman. She had become a good collegiate student. All the subjects now were basic; English, history, math, etc. Her major was journalistic photography, but no major classes yet. Just a few humanities classes in photography.
   Of course, her mother had wanted something totally different for her. Just something to make her appealing to an important man --until she married an important man her mother approved of and then became pregnant.
   Lucy just continued to follow her heart.
   With the money she had saved – back when she was planning a wedding – she was able to buy a used Volkswagen Beetle for $500. Rather old but in decent condition and ran great. She would go to Dobby’s place as often as she wanted.
   She was able to get a job at the Houston Post – the same kind of work she had had in Ft. Worth in the teletype room. Just three days a week.
   At one time, she wanted to drive her car to Denton – to perhaps see Roger. Dobby suggested that would not be a good idea. Especially if her mother found out.
   That idea quickly dissolved.
   There was a boy she began to see at school. His name was Daniel and was a couple of years older than she and nice looking; black hair, blue eyes, and a slender physique. His major was commercial art/graphic design.
   She hadn’t introduced him to her grandmother in Galveston yet. Lucy wasn’t sure if he would help her forget Roger. Silly thought.
   This particular day was Sunday. Lucy and Dobby had been out walking and talking in the city. It was a brisk, winter day, but not biting. Beautifully sunny, hinted of an early spring. They had just arrived back at Dobby’s home and the phone was heard ringing, as they entered.
   “Hello?” Dobby happily answered. “Just a moment.” She handed the old black phone to Lucy. Her tone was now not happy.
   Nothing needed to be said. Lucy knew it was her mother.
   “Hello Mother,” Lucy answered the way she always did to her mother.
   “Are you ever in your room?” her mother asked snippily.
   “Of course, I am. We spoke last week.” Dobby made a hand gesture that Lucy should go easier. Lucy understood and then asked, “What’s going on? You sound … aggravated.”
   Dobby gave a roll of her eyes like that was the wrong thing to say. Lucy nodded with a small frown that she knew that.
   “Well, not that it matters to you, but … but Mr. Edson is dead,” she said. There was a hint of tears in her voice.
   “Dead? Mom … I liked Mr. Edson. What happened? Did he have a heart attack?” Obviously stunned, Lucy sat on the chair by the phone.
   “Not a heart attack – everyone is perplexed,” she said. Then she took a deep breath and continued, “He was drinking and smoking. He must have fallen asleep – the sofa where he was lying caught
fire. He burned to death!”
   “Oh, Mother! Burned? That’s horrible!” Lucy was truly affected. But she had to ask, “When did this happen? Did the police say it was an accident?” What she really wanted to say was to correct the wordage from ‘fallen asleep’ to being ‘passed out.’
   Calmly, sadly her mother said, “Three days ago. I didn’t find out until yesterday – I thought he was out of town. They want to talk to that boy you used to date – the one who wanted to marry you.”
   “Roger? Why on earth would they want to talk to him?” Lucy asked shocked. “Do the police think Mr. Edson was murdered? Roger would have no reason to murder Mr. Edson!” Lucy offered on Roger’s behalf. She couldn’t understand why she was sticking up for Roger – the guy who had sex with a hooker!
   “I don’t know why. I told them the same thing that Roger would have no reason to harm Mr. Edson.” Her tone sounded unconvinced – like she might know something. She sniffled and blew her nose, then queried, “Have you seen Roger?”
   “Mother, I haven’t seen him since we broke up over a year ago.”
   “Talked to him?”
   “No, Mother. I haven’t seen him or talked to him!” Now, Lucy felt grilled and had no idea of why. “Look … I am so sorry to hear about Mr. Edson, but I don’t … don’t need your attitude.”
   “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m just so upset and confused about my friend’s death. You can understand that, can’t you?”
   “Yes … I can.” Lucy was softer to her mother.
   “Can you come home, Lucy? Please?” her mother pleaded.
   “I can’t. Prelims are coming up. The mid-term exams are soon. This is the only day I haven’t study -- needed a break.” She felt bad for her mother, but there was nothing she could do. And, she was being honest. She suggested, “Call some of your girlfriends. That will help you.”
   “Yes, that will. I’ll do that. Thanks, sweetheart.”
   That ended this call.
   Lucy remained on the chair by the phone and just looked dumbly at that apparatus. For some reason, she felt at a loss, bummed-out.
   Dobby had been in the kitchen to brew up some hot chocolate to drink once the phone call was ended. She had a thermos filled with the hot liquid and it was on a tray with the mugs and a plate of graham crackers. The tray was put on the coffee table in front of the sofa.
   “Want some soul food?” Dobby smiled softly.
   “Got anything stiffer than hot chocolate?” Lucy asked. She looked to her grandmother now. She didn’t want to get drunk, but, after this trauma, she wanted to mellow somewhat more.
   Dobby pointed to the tray and there was her decanter of bourbon. That was exactly what Lucy wanted. She calmly changed from the stiff chair to the more comfy sofa.
   Her grandmother put not quite a jigger of the bourbon in a mug and poured in the chocolate. Her intention was to ease her granddaughter. She handed the mug to Lucy, who took it.
   Dobby poured a full jigger into her mug. Her former daughter-in-law had the way to irritate even vicariously.
   Lucy blew onto the hot mixture, then took a large gulp of her drink. She just sat back and took another gulp.
   “Mother’s boyfriend died recently. Unexpectedly. He had passed out while smoking. Burnt to death. He’s a drinker and smoker like my mother.”
   “My word,” Dobby said. “I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly.” She was definitely surprised about this. She took a large gulp of her mug.
   “For some reason, Mother wanted to know if I’d had contact with Roger since we broke up. She said the police wanted to talk to him.” Lucy got quiet, sipped her drink now. Then she said, “It is a mystery why they think Roger would know anything about Mr. Edson’s death. He’s going to school in Denton.”
   Again, Lucy seemed to become more in thought.
   “Lucy. What are you thinking?” Dobby asked.
   Lucy set her mug on the coffee table, turned to look to Dobby and wondered, “How much do we really know about someone? I mean, I never thought my parents would divorce. We never thought Papa would die. I still can’t believe Roger went to bed with a hooker.” Now Lucy screwed up her face and analogized, “Life is never what we think. But I really doubt … doubt that Roger would know anything about Mr. Edson’s death.” She shook her head and added, “I’m never going to tell my mother anything about Daniel, or any other boy.”
   Lucy and Dobby just continued silently with their toddies.

****

   Three days ago, a story came on the teletype in the Houston Post about a man’s burning death in Ft. Worth:

AP – UPI: Ft. Worth Star-Telegram --   On Thursday, February 20, 1969, Mr. Alfonso Edson was found burnt to death in his home in an affluent neighborhood in Ft. Worth. He was 61-years-old, had attended Arlington Heights High School, then attended Texas Christian University. He was a family man with two older children, however, divorced for 5 years.
     His construction business has been involved in the building of many downtown projects and suburban developments in the Ft. Worth and Dallas areas.
     The Ft. Worth Police are treating the death as suspicious. There was an oversized envelope with a large sum of partially burnt paper money near the body. They are still questioning neighbors, especially about a Chevrolet Corvair parked in the area with a University of North Texas parking sticker on the windshield.
     Anyone with information should call the Ft. Worth Police Department.



*** With any mystery, a lot of the speculations can be what’s in the mind. My all-time favorite scary movie is “Rebecca,” a black and white movie by Alfred Hitchcock. No scary hobgoblins, no vampires, werewolves or zombies. To me, the mind can conjure things scarier than what can be shown in a movie. ***



Happy Halloween


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Monday, October 17, 2016

Young Love #2


A Time For Young Love
Part Two

By
B.D. Adams ©2016


   That next day, after Lucy was out of school and not at work, Roger drove them in his Corvair to a parking spot by Bend Brook Lake, a large man-made lake. When they wanted more privacy, this was where they’d go.
   Lucy was not happy, almost devastated. She had to tell Roger that her mother was explicit about returning his engagement ring. She took off the ring and sadly handed it to him.
   “Why?” Roger cried out loudly. He took the ring, not knowing what else to do.
   Lucy had begun to weep, as well, as she said, “She thinks … thinks we should wait. We’re too young.”
   “We just want to be engaged. Nothing else right now.”  Roger was very dismayed and angered. “When? When would we’d be old enough?” Roger covered his face with his hands and breathed heavily.
   Lucy saw his resentment and realized that this was the first time he’d shown this emotion. It was the first time they had been placed in that situation. All because of her mother!
   “I don’t know, Roger,” she shook her head. Now, she had the same anger – for her mother. “She believes we’re active – sexually. She doesn’t want me to be pregnant.” Now, she didn’t look at him.
   He removed his hands, but still didn’t look at her and said, “Did you tell her again? Tell her no sex until after we were married?” Now, Roger had a damning tone to his voice toward Lucy.
   “Of course, I did!” Lucy cried. “She doesn’t believe me. I don’t know why!” Lucy was more than hurt by Roger’s accusation. “Don’t you believe me?”
   He was upset and angry. He still didn’t look at Lucy. His face was tinged with anguished red!
   Lucy didn’t know what to do. All she did was sob into her hands and leaned against the passenger door window.
   Sadness … sorrow … nothing but misery.
   “I’m sorry, Roger! I never wanted this to happen!” Lucy did not know what to do, so she pleaded, “Please … please take me home.” Not that she wanted to go to her mother’s home, but where else could she go?
   Then, gently, Roger pulled her to him, He hugged her to him – firmly and tenderly!
   Lucy felt better in his arms and snuggled against his chest.
   “I’m sorry … I’m sorry,” Lucy whimpered.
   “Shhhh … I know, babe. I know. Not your fault,” Roger said sincerely. He always called her “babe” when he wanted to be gentle, like now. Then, he had her look him in his eyes and said, “Let’s do what she wants. Show her we are serious about our love. Once she really sees this, she’ll believe.” He gave her a soft, sweet smile and kissed her lips.
   Now they were together -- still.

====

   The weather had become cooler now for the season. Cooler in Ft. Worth, Texas. It had been a few weeks since Lucy gave back the engagement ring.
   Roger and Lucy had spoken to Lucy’s mother again, but not about marriage. About college. Again, her mother was not cooperative, not agreeable. They didn’t know what to do. However, they continued to date, see each other. Her mother continued to make dates for her. Dates Lucy didn’t want to go on with boys for which she had no desire. This was Lucy’s continued problem with her mother.
   Roger continued his studies and to work at the hamburger place but as an assistant manager. Those plans of his still remained.
   Next year, Roger wanted to go to the University of North Texas, an affordable state university. It was in Denton just north of Ft. Worth. Lucy could go there also, to study her journalism major. This was how they would continue with some of their plans.
   Where Roger had lived since birth was in an old neighborhood – houses in the 1930s or 1940s – tree lined streets. Like where Lucy lived, as well. The driveways were narrow for only one car. Other cars would park on the street.
   This was Wednesday and Roger had the day off from work and there were no classes at the college. He was at his parent’s home with papers strewn all over the dining table. This paperwork was so he could transfer to North Texas.
   The paperwork was somewhat tedious, but he felt he could complete the necessary forms in a timely manner. At the dining table, he sat and worked diligently on the forms.
   Then the doorbell sounded with its traditional ding-dong. It only took a moment for him to remember that he was alone, so he went to answer the door.
   “Mrs. Coleridge … Mr. Edson,” Roger said surprised, as he opened the heavy door. He couldn’t believe that those people were at the door. He rarely said Lucy’s mother’s last name. Mostly he’d say ‘ma’am’ – yes, ma’am, no ma’am, thank you, ma’am. He allowed them inside and politely confessed, “My mother and father aren’t home. They won’t be home until later.”
   Mrs. Coleridge was nicely dressed in a skirt and jacket suit in mauve color, black pumps and a black mid-calf, material coat. It was cool today. Mr. Edson was in a business suit of dark gray wool and brown wingtip shoes. No overcoat, though.
   Mr. Edson spoke first with, “We’re here to see you, Roger.”
   “Me?” Roger inquired calmly, albeit baffled.
   “Yes,” Mr. Edson said.
   “May we come in?” Lucy’s mother asked. Her voice tone was not overly pleasant.
   Roger opened the door more to allow them inside. With a hand gesture, he bade them sit on the sofa and then offered, “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water? My parents don’t keep alcohol in the house or I’d offer it.”
   “No thank you,” Mr. Edson said. “No problem.”
   Then to Mrs. Coleridge, Roger asked politely, “May I take your coat?”
   “No Roger. We won’t be her long,” she said.
   Now Roger felt a wave of anxiety or fear that rested in his chest.
   “Have a seat,” she insisted to the young man.
   “What’s wrong?” he dismally asked. He could only wonder what was wrong – what was going to happen! He sat on the chair across from them.
   “Roger … you are what’s wrong,” Mrs. Coleridge began. “You are confusing my daughter. Her future is being messed up by you. She doesn’t want to go to North Texas, she wants to go to Texas Christian U. A better university!” The woman’s voice began to become more irritated toward this boy, but she rather digressed. Her voice mellowed, a bit, as she continued, “Her grandparents – my parents – are paying for her to go to TCU.”
   “Mrs. Coleridge!” Roger tried to speak, had become confused and overwhelmed by all of this.
   “Not the University of North Texas. And, she really doesn’t want to marry you. Don’t you want her to be happy?”
   “Of course I do, but ….”
   “But, she is just retaliating against her father for marrying that woman. I will not allow ….”
   “How old are you now?” Mr. Edson jumped in now with a man’s argument.
   Roger hesitated a bit, then said, “Nineteen. Why?” He was dazed. He had never been berated by any adult like this ever!
   “How old is Lucy?” Mr. Edson asked him.
   “Seventeen. You know her birthday is in three months.”
   “Seventeen.” Mr. Edson looked defiantly at Roger and declared, “With your age, she’s a minor. You’re an adult.”
   “We haven’t had sex!” Roger loudly demanded. He knew what was coming next.
   “Maybe not, but she is still a minor. Her mother wants you to stop seeing her daughter – a minor.”
   Roger spouted, “What are you getting at, Mr. Edson?”
   Mr. Edson looked Roger in the eyes and said specifically, “Have you ever heard of ‘statutory rape?’”
   Roger knew the word. He couldn’t understand why that would apply to him. Everything they did was consensual. That term was more familiar to him. They hugged, kissed touched – nothing more!
   “Lucy is too young to give her consent for what you want,” Mrs. Coleridge demanded.
   Roger was stunned, dumbfounded. He knew these people didn’t like him, but he had never been rude or spoken disrespectfully to either of them!
   “All I’ve wanted is to love Lucy, make her happy and have a future with her. We both want the same things.” He looked them in their eyes and saw irritation with Mrs. Coleridge and a smirk from Mr. Edson.
   “If you don’t stop seeing my daughter, I will tell your parents what I think you’re doing. I’ll have you arrested for statutory rape. I have a very good lawyer,” Mrs. Coleridge insisted.
   Now, Roger was decimated. This was the most distressing
thing in his life. He wanted to cry – wanted to strike out – to run and hide under his bed! But he couldn’t do a damn thing. He just sat glued in his chair unable to move.
   “Break-up with Lucy,” Mr. Edson said. “You’re smart, you’ll come up with something.” Mr. Edson was deadpan, no emotion.
   The two monsters that passed themselves off as well-meaning adults stood, went to the door and let themselves out. Of course, they closed the door behind them.
   He remained in the chair. Just sat and stared … stared at nothing. Decided he wanted a drink of water. His mouth was dry, very dry. Stood from the chair – but fell to his knees! His knees were weak. His fall made his hands go in front of him to catch him from falling more. Then he fell to his side, then to his back, then he cried like a baby! Loud howls!
   At this point, he didn’t care who heard. Didn’t care … didn’t care.
   He hadn’t cried like this since he was in grade school. He still cried, but no howls, no sobs. The tears continued, but now he was able to stand on the floor. Went to the kitchen sink to pour a glass of water. The tears had subsided.
   He took a few gulps of water. Looked out of the window over the sink. His mother still hung laundry on the outside clothesline. There was a slight breeze that made the dry clothes flutter on the line.
   At that moment, he hated his mother for invading his conscious thoughts. He hated all mothers now! A mother wanted him to break-up with the love of his life. His Lucy!
   Why did Mrs. Coleridge and Mr. Edson hate him so much? Why?
   Roger’s thoughts:
      “She’s not my mother. He’s not my father. They aren’t my family. Does that woman want to have me arrested? Arrested for statutory rape! How can they do that? So, they have a lawyer – so what? I don’t know anything about the law. I should call Lucy and tell her what her mother has done. What her mother wants to be done.” Other thoughts came to mind. “Could Lucy become like her mother – a witch? Years later, could Lucy be witchy? Witchy Lucy. Maybe this was good to see. See what love meant to that family.”
   He was so depressed! He had plans for his life. His plans were supposed to include Lucy. However, getting arrested would be the worst.
   Roger developed tears again.

====

   Lucy was off her job for this Friday. She really liked her job but wanted to meet Roger for their date. They hadn’t spoken for several days, he had been working more hours at the hamburger place, so he told her, and doing the paperwork to transfer to North Texas. He needed to meet with people at the community college to get signatures and other items. She knew he was excited about the transfer and so was she.
   Unfortunately, Lucy wasn’t able to get him on the phone. His mother or father would answer, say he wasn’t home, how busy he was and take a message. She was a little sad that she couldn’t talk to him or see him, but she understood.
   Actually, her mother had been different over the last few days. When Lucy brought up about how busy Roger was with work, she seemed pleased for him. Wasn’t snide toward him. Lucy felt that her mother had a new attitude toward Roger. Maybe she had come to her senses.
   Finally, he called her and set the date. No matter, Lucy was ecstatic about this date!
   She was driven home from her work by a girlfriend. She just wanted to change from her school/work attire to a dress that she liked for this movie date. She always liked to look special for Roger. Even for movies. Also, she wanted to spritz on the perfume Roger really liked.
   Her mother was picked up by Mr. Edson because they had a date, an early date. Her mother’s car was in the driveway waiting for Lucy.
   When he called to make the date, Roger explained that he couldn’t drive to get her because his car was in the shop. Nothing major, just regular maintenance. So she drove to his house.
   When she rounded the corner to Roger’s house, she noticed his cousin’s car was parked out front on the street. Dale, his cousin, was a year older than Roger. He was a nice guy who worked in a hardware store.
   Many times, Lucy and Roger would double-date with Dale and his girlfriend, Kathy. Dale and Kathy were engaged, planned to marry in six months. Nothing had been mentioned about a double-date tonight, but that was all right. This would be fun.
   There were no other cars at the house – Roger’s parents must not be home, Lucy decided. So she went to the door and rang the bell.
   Roger opened the door and had a wide grin, but didn’t say anything – didn’t kiss her either. Roger and Dale stood in the living room.
   “Is Kathy here?” Lucy asked Dale. She smiled nicely. Then she noticed Roger’s expression. “What’s up?” she asked. 
   Then Roger began to laugh raucously! Dale laughed but not as loudly.
   Lucy giggled and inquired, “What’s so funny?”
   “I can’t tell you,” Roger said. He laughed louder. And Dale merely snickered.
   Lucy became as giddy as the guys and repeated, “What’s so funny?”
   Then Roger calmed a bit and said, “I had the best afternoon I’ve ever had. Best for a man!” He went whew a few times like he was still out of breath.
   “The best,” Dale played along, but not as silly.
   “What does that mean?” Lucy queried. “Best of what?”
   “Lucy, what do men want?” Roger looked at her like she was dense.
   “I’m gonna get it every day in six months.” Dale picked up on his cousin’s meaning.
   Now Lucy was speechless, dumbfounded. She wasn’t dense, but if Roger really meant what she thought … she would be hurt beyond any words she had.
   “You had sex? Did you really have sex?”
   “The best … the best,” Roger smiled wide again.
   “Why couldn’t you wait? Couldn’t you wait?” Lucy was wide-eyed and numb.
   “Lucy, did you really want me to wait as long as your mother would want?” Roger laughed again and informed, “Babe, I doubt if you’d ever give me sex the way that woman did.” He rolled his eyes and grinned again.
   “A woman. A prostitute?”
   “Oh, babe …” Roger sat on the sofa with his legs apart and rubbed his hand rhythmically over his crotch.
   Lucy could not take it any longer! She ran out of that house! 
   After she left, Roger continued to sit on the sofa, but with his legs closed now. No laughing, no teasing, no rubbing. His head was back against the sofa – he looked to the ceiling.
   “It took you long enough to dump that goody-two-shoes,” Dale congratulated.
   “Is that what you think? That I wanted to do that?” Roger lifted his head to look at his cousin. “Do you think I had sex with a prostitute? You have no idea what this was about.”
   Now Roger sat with his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands and cried the tears of despair.

====

   Lucy drove the car back home. She had tears that made it hard to see, but she drove.
   Lucy’s thoughts:
      “What did I do? Why did he do this? Did he really mean to hurt me like this? He’s barely a man. Did he go with a hooker to break-up with me? How revolting! He knew how this would affect me! Well, he did the right thing!”
   She was in the driveway at her mother’s house and just sat there. Numbed, dazed.
   Lucy’s life was changed in a heartbeat.



=== To Be Continued ===



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