Glimpses

MARCH 1997
T H E RAVEN C H R O N I C L E S

Childhood (Before Go Mainland)

1. Re-Creation

2. Asthma attack

3. Sissy

4. Monopoly

After Go Mainland

1. Coming Out

2. Diagnosis

3. Prognosis

4. Sam and the Bank Manager

ABOUT
BOB
SHIMABUKURO

Glimpses

by Bob Shimabukuro

Childhood (Before Go Mainland)

1. Re-Creation

Slowly, wen' climb up the mango tree, and sit down where plenty branches and leaves come together. Make one perfect seat fo' watch ball game. From there, could see the whole field. Our jalopy house, look like ready to fall down, was the bleachers, where Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Ted Williams, Stan Musial, Jackie Robinson, all kind folks wen' hit some monstrous home runs. Sometimes wen' bust our window and land in the kitchen. Some even wen' way over the roof, bashing the banana plants in back of the house.
Infield and outfield grass, kinda tall, 'cause we no mo' lawn mower and had to cut all the grass with sickle. Balls going deep right field wen' wind through banana plants, one avocado tree, mountain apple tree, guava tree, torch ginger plants and the mango tree I stay in. Left field, not much. Short poke to the bleachers.
"Ed Lopat, on the mound," I go, try copy Carlos Rivas, sportscaster in Hawaii. They recreate baseball all the time. My other favorite Frank Valenti. But this time I copy Carlos. "Toes the rubber. Starts his windup. Rocks, kicks and fires. Low. Outside. Ball one."
Sam then wen' come out of the house. He nevah see me 'cause was partly hidden by the leaves. I crouch down, make sure he no see me. He pick up the ball. Funny looking, but okay. Mom wen' cover some futon stuffing with denim she got from old pair jeans. She stitch 'em up real good, so look like one ball.
Sam pick up one of the bats. No matter which one. They all the same. Broken bats we wen' scavenge from somewhere, glue, nail, tape 'em together. Good enough for our denim ball. He throw up the ball and swing. Miss.
"Swung on and missed. Strike one," I say softly. "Good curve ball. Williams steps out of the batter's box. Takes a good look at Lopat. Now steps back in. Cocks his bat as Lopat goes into his motion, winds and fires."
Sam connect this time. Thud. He watch as the ball land on the roof.
"It's going, going, gone! Williams has just tagged Lopat for number 34 on the season!" I excited now.
Sam look up as he circle the bases. You could tell, he feel shame. He stop, and both of us watch the ball roll back into the yard.
Just then wen' hear a loud snap. I look back and see the broadcast booth broke from the main limb. "Ohhhhh!" I yell. First, I try jump off, then just ride the branch down. Wham! I hit the ground, but was real good luck because the leaves and the tall grass wen' break my fall.
Sam rush up. "You all right?"
"Yeah. A little shaky. Think I'm okay."
"How long were you up there, anyway? And what were you doing?"
"Broadcasting a Yankees/Red Sox game. Got a little lost. Thought you were Ted Williams."
Sam look at me, then at the leaves and branches. "Dumb. I was Yogi Berra," he say, then both of us laugh. Laughs of relief. Good thing too. Take away the shock of falling off the tree.
I look up the tree. About twenty feet off the ground was another similar spot. Ideal for broadcasting. But at twice the height of the old broadcasting seat. "Look, get another spot, up there. Higher. Can see better from over there, I think."
"Less leaves. You'll be able to see what's happening better. Be able to tell the difference between Ted Williams and Yogi Berra now. They're built totally different, you know." And he walk off.
He was right. Sam look like neither, but fo' sure was closer to Berra than Williams.

2. Asthma attack

I sit up on the futon Sam and I wen' put next to the sofa fo' sleep. I slowly roll over to the sofa, put my arm on the seat, lay my head on my arm. Slowly, I wen' breathe in, breathe out.
"You okay?" Sam asked, waking up.
Thought about asking him fo' turn on the light so I could read. Decided not to. When I have asthma attack, lotta times I sit cross-legged on the floor, j'like all the ol' folks, 'cept I go rest my head on the low table or sofa, and read till I fall asleep.
But no can read now, and get 3-4 hours before sunrise. Mo' bettah I get some sleep right away. But hard. Third time already I get asthma attack this school year and only November. Going miss another math quiz. Teacher already wen' ask how come I get sick on quiz day. Geez. J'like I getting sick on purpose. No fair. Nothing fo' do but wait. I wonder how long goin' take fo' get over this time.
"You okay?" Sam ask again.
"Some more asthma. Go back sleep. Wake you if need help."
"Sure?"
"Yeah," I tell him. Really not sure, but no like bother him. Think about school for little while, then wen' fall asleep. When I wake up, all sweaty. Was really hot. I like go shiko, but hardly can move, was so hard fo' breathe.
"Eh, Sam, wake up," I say, just loud enough so he hear me. Talk soft because otherwise use up too much air fo' talk. Better save air. "Gotta go shiko," I tell him when he wake up.
"Okay," he said, got up and grabbed my arm. He always so cheery and willing fo' help. Me, always so grumpy, especially when no can breathe.
He pull me up. I lean on his shoulder. We go down the hall to the toilet. He broad. Lots of shoulder fo' lean on. Strong back. He walk slowly fo' me. We walk like this: Gasp, wheeze. Take one step. Gasp, wheeze. Take another. All the way to the toilet.
When asthma not so bad, lean over, rest my hand on the toilet tank, go shiko. When real bad, gotta sit down on the toilet seat, leave the toilet door open and lean my head on the door knob. This time was real bad.
Sam wen' sit down on the stairs and wait. Funny kind house. Get three steps to one store room. Store room because nobody like one bedroom you gotta go through the toilet to get to.
"You going to school tomorrow?" Sam asked after a slight wait, a little sleepy.
"Don't know. See how I feel in the morning. Pau already. Help me back."
And we go back: Gasp, wheeze. Take one step. Gasp, wheeze, take another.

3. Sissy

"Sam, like play football?"
"Tackle or touch?"
"Tackle, maybe flag."
"Where?"
"Manoa Field."
"With who?"
"My friends. Rodney. Harvey. Gordon. Whoever else we can get."
"Oh."
"Why you ask all these questions? You like play or not?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Just don't."
"Geez, Sam. Sometimes you so sissy."
He looked at me, hurt, then turned and walked back into the house just as Toki-nesan sauntered out to the porch.
"What did you call him?" she demanded, daring me to repeat.
"Uh, nothing," I replied.
"WHAT DID YOU CALL HIM?" she yelled.
"Uh, a sissy," I answered very softly.
"How dare you call him a sissy?"
I didn't know what to answer. I knew that I had hurt him, since he had turned and left, and Toki had heard me before I had a chance to follow Sam and apologize and repair the damage. It had happened so fast. Besides, I rationalized, however unfairly, the fact that Toki was fighting this battle for him right now seemed to prove my point.
But I had said it. There was nothing I could do now but weather this lecture from Toki. "He's your brother. He's your older brother. I don't want to hear you call him that again. Ever. You understand?"
"Yes," I answered contritely.
"Now go apologize to him."
I went into the house and looked for him. He was in the can. I sat outside and waited. Seemed like a long time.
"Sorry, Sam," I told him when he finally came out. "Was just a little frustrated."
"It's okay," he said softly. "You aren't the first to call me that." Those words, said softly and matter-of-factly, hit me like a firecracker. My head. My heart. My stomach. My neck. Everywhere hurt. Simultaneously.
I didn't feel like playing football any more. I moped around the house the rest of the day.

4. Monopoly

"Mom, can you play with us?" Sam asked after dinner.
"No, I've got too much work to do," she answered.
"Like what?"
"Oh, like washing the dishes, folding and hanging up the clothes."
"Well, if we help you will you play with us?"
Mom, not wanting to turn down an opportunity at a little volunteerism on our part (or at least Sam's part), but still wanting to see what Sam was negotiating, teasingly asked, "Play what?"
"Monopoly," Sam answered quickly. It was not one of Mom's favorite games because it was a long game, and Mom always felt that she had more work to do. It was not one of my favorites either, because I always tired of it after one or two hours. But Sam was negotiating. And after all, if we were going to help Mom, we had to get something out of it.
So there we were. Eleven-year-old Sam and I, just about to turn 10, washing dishes, while eight-year-old Ann was helping Mom with the clothes. Tom, home after one year at Columbia University, was lying on our couch in the "parlor," reading the Honolulu Star Bulletin after a day in the pineapple fields.
Dad was sitting on the floor at our dining table, reading the Hawaii Times, the Japanese language newspaper. His reading glasses, purchased from Kress store, were perched low on his nose.
Sam was happy and singing loudly. Mom had not played much with us lately. She seemed extremely busy and preoccupied, although she was happy that Tom had returned for the summer. "When you left, I thought, this could be the last time I might see you," she had told him.
New York was a long ways away. She was fully aware that after dad had left Okinawa at age 17 to come to Hawaii, he never saw his mother again. And when Tom left for New York City in 1952, it had been a 17-hour flight and cost more than our family could afford. I never did find out how my parents put together the funds for Tom to go to New York.
Our family went through some hard times while Tom was away. Cabbage and rice. If lucky, canned corned beef cabbage and rice. Or maybe cabbage soup and rice. I just remember a lot of cabbage. It seemed the worrying had taken its toll on mom. But Sam was oblivious to all that now. Mom had agreed to play with us and all was right with the world.
Sam broke into my thoughts. "Get the hot water from the stove."
"Okay, here," I said, handing the kettle to him.
I watched him pour the water and some dish soap into a large bowl which we used as a dishpan. And he began to wash the dishes, while I rinsed. If I got ahead of him, I would dry some of the dishes. If he got ahead of me he would tend to the kerosene stove to heat some more water. It seemed to go on and on. Nine in our family, I had repeated to people often. "We' got enough for a baseball team." I was noting how many dishes nine folks used for one meal.
Sam had always been more optimistic than me. He just kept going through the dishes, repeating, "Mom's going to play Monopoly with us."
"If we ever get through these dishes," I answered, wondering where Roy was at, thinking we sure could use his help now. Six-year-old Ned was going back and forth between Ann and Mom with the clothes, and Sam and I with the dishes.
"They're almost done. You almost done?" he asked.
"Yes," said Sam.
"Especially if you help us," I piped in.
"Okay, but I'm helping Mom and Ann right now."
"Good. But first take these dishes and put them on the table," I said, handing him a couple of plates I had just dried.
As he reluctantly did as he was told (after all, he was younger than me), Sam's spirit brightened. "Ned, go get the monopoly set. We can start soon."
He scampered out of the kitchen, got out the monopoly set, and began setting up the monopoly board.
Sam was excitedly cleaning the sink and I was putting away the last few dishes, thinking that I would just bag the Monopoly and go to sleep, when I heard Tom say, "Oh, Mom's going to play? Great! Then I want to play too."
Dad perked up immediately. "What? Mom's going to play? Count me in." And he got up from his spot and went into the parlor.
Everyone wanted to play. Mom was a big attraction. A treat. I felt a sinking sensation. Ominous. I could see the pecking order coming in to play. Monopoly only had six tokens, or "kinis" as we used to call them. Six kinis. That's Dad, Mom, Tom, Toki, Roy, Sam. Stops there. No Bob, Ann or Ned. I was getting upset at this turn of events. I no longer felt like going to bed.
Sam saw it coming too. He was getting agitated. We quickly finished up and ran into the parlor. Not even a sixth kini for Sam. Ann and Ned had decided they would combine for one.
Sam exploded, and went into one of his fits. "This game is for us!" he yelled at Tom, Roy and Dad. "Mom said she would play with us," with a big emphasis on "us," I might add.
"I tell you what," Toki offered. "Ann can play with me, and Ned can play with Mom, and you and Bob can play together. That way everybody plays. How's that?"
It seemed fair to me. It was late. I was going to drop off soon, and Ann and Ned would probably drop off after the first two or three rounds.
But Sam was not to be appeased so easily.
"NO," he screamed, as tears began streaming down his face. "It's not fair. This was for Mom and us younger kids!" And he didn't stop, continuing to challenge the established pecking order, and gathering steam as he continued. "You ALways have YOUR way! YOU NEVER let ME HAVE MINE! WE WORKED FOR THIS!" He was now screaming at the top of his voice.
I was in shock. All of us were in shock. It had been a while since Sam had gone off like this. But after spending all that time washing the dishes, I had to admit, he had a real gripe. But he was getting "onreal." And I also knew that any minute, Dad was going to blow his cool, and we would have a royal scene on our hands.
"Hey, Sam," I said, trying to get his attention. "Look, I'm tired. You don't have to share with me. I'll just go to sleep."
"NO!" he screamed at me, still crying. "YOU`RE GOING TO PLAY! WE'RE GOING TO PLAY WITH MOM! JUST US!"
That just about did it for Dad. "YOU GO TO BED! RIGHT NOW! NOW, I SAID!"
A sudden quiet came upon Sam. Deathly quiet. It scared me, when he got that way. He started to withdraw. He was there physically, but in no other sense. He knew he was not going to win. And he retreated to somewhere safe. He stared at dad, looking through him, then walked away. I followed him. We got our futon, found a place to lay it out and got our toothbrushes. Sam didn't say another word the rest of the night.
"I'm going to put Ann and Ned to bed," Mom said quietly. "You folks can play."
"I don't feel like playing, if you aren't," Tom answered.
Dad simply walked away. Roy and Toki decided to forget the whole episode. Nobody played Monopoly that night.

�

MARCH 1997		T H E RAVEN C H R O N I C L E S

Childhood (Before Go Mainland) 1. Re-Creation 2. Asthma attack 3. Sissy 4. Monopoly After Go Mainland 1. Coming Out 2. Diagnosis 3. Prognosis 4. Sam and the Bank Manager ABOUT BOB SHIMABUKURO		Glimpses by Bob Shimabukuro Childhood (Before Go Mainland) 1. Re-Creation Slowly, wen' climb up the mango tree, and sit down where plenty branches and leaves come together. Make one perfect seat fo' watch ball game. From there, could see the whole field. Our jalopy house, look like ready to fall down, was the bleachers, where Mickey Mantle, Willie Mays, Hank Aaron, Ted Williams, Stan Musial, Jackie Robinson, all kind folks wen' hit some monstrous home runs. Sometimes wen' bust our window and land in the kitchen. Some even wen' way over the roof, bashing the banana plants in back of the house. Infield and outfield grass, kinda tall, 'cause we no mo' lawn mower and had to cut all the grass with sickle. Balls going deep right field wen' wind through banana plants, one avocado tree, mountain apple tree, guava tree, torch ginger plants and the mango tree I stay in. Left field, not much. Short poke to the bleachers. "Ed Lopat, on the mound," I go, try copy Carlos Rivas, sportscaster in Hawaii. They recreate baseball all the time. My other favorite Frank Valenti. But this time I copy Carlos. "Toes the rubber. Starts his windup. Rocks, kicks and fires. Low. Outside. Ball one." Sam then wen' come out of the house. He nevah see me 'cause was partly hidden by the leaves. I crouch down, make sure he no see me. He pick up the ball. Funny looking, but okay. Mom wen' cover some futon stuffing with denim she got from old pair jeans. She stitch 'em up real good, so look like one ball. Sam pick up one of the bats. No matter which one. They all the same. Broken bats we wen' scavenge from somewhere, glue, nail, tape 'em together. Good enough for our denim ball. He throw up the ball and swing. Miss. "Swung on and missed. Strike one," I say softly. "Good curve ball. Williams steps out of the batter's box. Takes a good look at Lopat. Now steps back in. Cocks his bat as Lopat goes into his motion, winds and fires." Sam connect this time. Thud. He watch as the ball land on the roof. "It's going, going, gone! Williams has just tagged Lopat for number 34 on the season!" I excited now. Sam look up as he circle the bases. You could tell, he feel shame. He stop, and both of us watch the ball roll back into the yard. Just then wen' hear a loud snap. I look back and see the broadcast booth broke from the main limb. "Ohhhhh!" I yell. First, I try jump off, then just ride the branch down. Wham! I hit the ground, but was real good luck because the leaves and the tall grass wen' break my fall. Sam rush up. "You all right?" "Yeah. A little shaky. Think I'm okay." "How long were you up there, anyway? And what were you doing?" "Broadcasting a Yankees/Red Sox game. Got a little lost. Thought you were Ted Williams." Sam look at me, then at the leaves and branches. "Dumb. I was Yogi Berra," he say, then both of us laugh. Laughs of relief. Good thing too. Take away the shock of falling off the tree. I look up the tree. About twenty feet off the ground was another similar spot. Ideal for broadcasting. But at twice the height of the old broadcasting seat. "Look, get another spot, up there. Higher. Can see better from over there, I think." "Less leaves. You'll be able to see what's happening better. Be able to tell the difference between Ted Williams and Yogi Berra now. They're built totally different, you know." And he walk off. He was right. Sam look like neither, but fo' sure was closer to Berra than Williams. 2. Asthma attack I sit up on the futon Sam and I wen' put next to the sofa fo' sleep. I slowly roll over to the sofa, put my arm on the seat, lay my head on my arm. Slowly, I wen' breathe in, breathe out. "You okay?" Sam asked, waking up. Thought about asking him fo' turn on the light so I could read. Decided not to. When I have asthma attack, lotta times I sit cross-legged on the floor, j'like all the ol' folks, 'cept I go rest my head on the low table or sofa, and read till I fall asleep. But no can read now, and get 3-4 hours before sunrise. Mo' bettah I get some sleep right away. But hard. Third time already I get asthma attack this school year and only November. Going miss another math quiz. Teacher already wen' ask how come I get sick on quiz day. Geez. J'like I getting sick on purpose. No fair. Nothing fo' do but wait. I wonder how long goin' take fo' get over this time. "You okay?" Sam ask again. "Some more asthma. Go back sleep. Wake you if need help." "Sure?" "Yeah," I tell him. Really not sure, but no like bother him. Think about school for little while, then wen' fall asleep. When I wake up, all sweaty. Was really hot. I like go shiko, but hardly can move, was so hard fo' breathe. "Eh, Sam, wake up," I say, just loud enough so he hear me. Talk soft because otherwise use up too much air fo' talk. Better save air. "Gotta go shiko," I tell him when he wake up. "Okay," he said, got up and grabbed my arm. He always so cheery and willing fo' help. Me, always so grumpy, especially when no can breathe. He pull me up. I lean on his shoulder. We go down the hall to the toilet. He broad. Lots of shoulder fo' lean on. Strong back. He walk slowly fo' me. We walk like this: Gasp, wheeze. Take one step. Gasp, wheeze. Take another. All the way to the toilet. When asthma not so bad, lean over, rest my hand on the toilet tank, go shiko. When real bad, gotta sit down on the toilet seat, leave the toilet door open and lean my head on the door knob. This time was real bad. Sam wen' sit down on the stairs and wait. Funny kind house. Get three steps to one store room. Store room because nobody like one bedroom you gotta go through the toilet to get to. "You going to school tomorrow?" Sam asked after a slight wait, a little sleepy. "Don't know. See how I feel in the morning. Pau already. Help me back." And we go back: Gasp, wheeze. Take one step. Gasp, wheeze, take another. 3. Sissy "Sam, like play football?" "Tackle or touch?" "Tackle, maybe flag." "Where?" "Manoa Field." "With who?" "My friends. Rodney. Harvey. Gordon. Whoever else we can get." "Oh." "Why you ask all these questions? You like play or not?" "No." "Why not?" "Just don't." "Geez, Sam. Sometimes you so sissy." He looked at me, hurt, then turned and walked back into the house just as Toki-nesan sauntered out to the porch. "What did you call him?" she demanded, daring me to repeat. "Uh, nothing," I replied. "WHAT DID YOU CALL HIM?" she yelled. "Uh, a sissy," I answered very softly. "How dare you call him a sissy?" I didn't know what to answer. I knew that I had hurt him, since he had turned and left, and Toki had heard me before I had a chance to follow Sam and apologize and repair the damage. It had happened so fast. Besides, I rationalized, however unfairly, the fact that Toki was fighting this battle for him right now seemed to prove my point. But I had said it. There was nothing I could do now but weather this lecture from Toki. "He's your brother. He's your older brother. I don't want to hear you call him that again. Ever. You understand?" "Yes," I answered contritely. "Now go apologize to him." I went into the house and looked for him. He was in the can. I sat outside and waited. Seemed like a long time. "Sorry, Sam," I told him when he finally came out. "Was just a little frustrated." "It's okay," he said softly. "You aren't the first to call me that." Those words, said softly and matter-of-factly, hit me like a firecracker. My head. My heart. My stomach. My neck. Everywhere hurt. Simultaneously. I didn't feel like playing football any more. I moped around the house the rest of the day. 4. Monopoly "Mom, can you play with us?" Sam asked after dinner. "No, I've got too much work to do," she answered. "Like what?" "Oh, like washing the dishes, folding and hanging up the clothes." "Well, if we help you will you play with us?" Mom, not wanting to turn down an opportunity at a little volunteerism on our part (or at least Sam's part), but still wanting to see what Sam was negotiating, teasingly asked, "Play what?" "Monopoly," Sam answered quickly. It was not one of Mom's favorite games because it was a long game, and Mom always felt that she had more work to do. It was not one of my favorites either, because I always tired of it after one or two hours. But Sam was negotiating. And after all, if we were going to help Mom, we had to get something out of it. So there we were. Eleven-year-old Sam and I, just about to turn 10, washing dishes, while eight-year-old Ann was helping Mom with the clothes. Tom, home after one year at Columbia University, was lying on our couch in the "parlor," reading the Honolulu Star Bulletin after a day in the pineapple fields. Dad was sitting on the floor at our dining table, reading the Hawaii Times, the Japanese language newspaper. His reading glasses, purchased from Kress store, were perched low on his nose. Sam was happy and singing loudly. Mom had not played much with us lately. She seemed extremely busy and preoccupied, although she was happy that Tom had returned for the summer. "When you left, I thought, this could be the last time I might see you," she had told him. New York was a long ways away. She was fully aware that after dad had left Okinawa at age 17 to come to Hawaii, he never saw his mother again. And when Tom left for New York City in 1952, it had been a 17-hour flight and cost more than our family could afford. I never did find out how my parents put together the funds for Tom to go to New York. Our family went through some hard times while Tom was away. Cabbage and rice. If lucky, canned corned beef cabbage and rice. Or maybe cabbage soup and rice. I just remember a lot of cabbage. It seemed the worrying had taken its toll on mom. But Sam was oblivious to all that now. Mom had agreed to play with us and all was right with the world. Sam broke into my thoughts. "Get the hot water from the stove." "Okay, here," I said, handing the kettle to him. I watched him pour the water and some dish soap into a large bowl which we used as a dishpan. And he began to wash the dishes, while I rinsed. If I got ahead of him, I would dry some of the dishes. If he got ahead of me he would tend to the kerosene stove to heat some more water. It seemed to go on and on. Nine in our family, I had repeated to people often. "We' got enough for a baseball team." I was noting how many dishes nine folks used for one meal. Sam had always been more optimistic than me. He just kept going through the dishes, repeating, "Mom's going to play Monopoly with us." "If we ever get through these dishes," I answered, wondering where Roy was at, thinking we sure could use his help now. Six-year-old Ned was going back and forth between Ann and Mom with the clothes, and Sam and I with the dishes. "They're almost done. You almost done?" he asked. "Yes," said Sam. "Especially if you help us," I piped in. "Okay, but I'm helping Mom and Ann right now." "Good. But first take these dishes and put them on the table," I said, handing him a couple of plates I had just dried. As he reluctantly did as he was told (after all, he was younger than me), Sam's spirit brightened. "Ned, go get the monopoly set. We can start soon." He scampered out of the kitchen, got out the monopoly set, and began setting up the monopoly board. Sam was excitedly cleaning the sink and I was putting away the last few dishes, thinking that I would just bag the Monopoly and go to sleep, when I heard Tom say, "Oh, Mom's going to play? Great! Then I want to play too." Dad perked up immediately. "What? Mom's going to play? Count me in." And he got up from his spot and went into the parlor. Everyone wanted to play. Mom was a big attraction. A treat. I felt a sinking sensation. Ominous. I could see the pecking order coming in to play. Monopoly only had six tokens, or "kinis" as we used to call them. Six kinis. That's Dad, Mom, Tom, Toki, Roy, Sam. Stops there. No Bob, Ann or Ned. I was getting upset at this turn of events. I no longer felt like going to bed. Sam saw it coming too. He was getting agitated. We quickly finished up and ran into the parlor. Not even a sixth kini for Sam. Ann and Ned had decided they would combine for one. Sam exploded, and went into one of his fits. "This game is for us!" he yelled at Tom, Roy and Dad. "Mom said she would play with us," with a big emphasis on "us," I might add. "I tell you what," Toki offered. "Ann can play with me, and Ned can play with Mom, and you and Bob can play together. That way everybody plays. How's that?" It seemed fair to me. It was late. I was going to drop off soon, and Ann and Ned would probably drop off after the first two or three rounds. But Sam was not to be appeased so easily. "NO," he screamed, as tears began streaming down his face. "It's not fair. This was for Mom and us younger kids!" And he didn't stop, continuing to challenge the established pecking order, and gathering steam as he continued. "You ALways have YOUR way! YOU NEVER let ME HAVE MINE! WE WORKED FOR THIS!" He was now screaming at the top of his voice. I was in shock. All of us were in shock. It had been a while since Sam had gone off like this. But after spending all that time washing the dishes, I had to admit, he had a real gripe. But he was getting "onreal." And I also knew that any minute, Dad was going to blow his cool, and we would have a royal scene on our hands. "Hey, Sam," I said, trying to get his attention. "Look, I'm tired. You don't have to share with me. I'll just go to sleep." "NO!" he screamed at me, still crying. "YOU`RE GOING TO PLAY! WE'RE GOING TO PLAY WITH MOM! JUST US!" That just about did it for Dad. "YOU GO TO BED! RIGHT NOW! NOW, I SAID!" A sudden quiet came upon Sam. Deathly quiet. It scared me, when he got that way. He started to withdraw. He was there physically, but in no other sense. He knew he was not going to win. And he retreated to somewhere safe. He stared at dad, looking through him, then walked away. I followed him. We got our futon, found a place to lay it out and got our toothbrushes. Sam didn't say another word the rest of the night. "I'm going to put Ann and Ned to bed," Mom said quietly. "You folks can play." "I don't feel like playing, if you aren't," Tom answered. Dad simply walked away. Roy and Toki decided to forget the whole episode. Nobody played Monopoly that night.