Well, I was lugging Ginny’s annual around with me to all my classes, trying to find time to write something in it, but it seemed like in every class we were too busy for me to write anything. We had that quiz and discussion in Miss Hiller’s class. Then we had typing drills the whole time in Typing class. And Mrs. Thompson had us doing all kinds of word problems in Algebra class, as practise for next week’s exam. So it looked like I was gonna have to get it done in fourth period Science class. I definitely wouldn’t try to do it during lunch period, because I figured Wallace and Wendall would still be harassing me the whole time.

     And I was right about them giving it to me at lunch, the same way they did in homeroom. As soon as I sat down at the lunch table, they started at me again. They spent the whole period trying to come up with what they thought would be funny things for me to write. All of it was just more crap about her being VIRGINia Milner and Ginny Jailbait and stuff like that. It wasn’t very funny, really, but they thought it was. I didn’t get mad or anything, I just tried to ignore them. I spent the whole period mainly staring at Kathy Lendover.

     When they saw that I wasn’t paying them much attention, they kinda dropped it. But then pretty soon Wendall said, “What I’d really like to know is, what is old Ginny Jailbait gonna write in Warren’s book?  You gonna let us have a peek when you get it back, old buddy, old pal?”

     And Wallace said, “Yeah, that should be interesting. What will she write?  Maybe something like, ‘To Warren, I think we’re a perfect couple. Except your zits are bigger than my tits.’” 

     They both howled at that one. I told them to go to hell again, and got up to go buy another strawberry ice cream sandwich.

     After lunch I went on to Science class, and right off the bat, Harvey Hicks, who’s this idiot guy that’s also in my English class, asked Mr. Tweedy what he thought about the bombing of Dresden. Of course Harvey asked him that because he knew once Mr. Tweedy got on that subject, he’d be on it all period long, so we’d never get around to doing any science stuff, which is exactly what happened. But that was fine with me, because I could use the time to write something in Ginny’s annual. So while Mr. Tweety was busy drawing maps of Europe all over the front board and re-explaining World War II to everybody, I opened up Ginny’s annual and looked for a good place to start writing, which wasn’t easy. Even though the annuals had only come out the day before, Ginny’s was already full of writing, where people had signed it for her. Nobody had signed mine yet.

     I spent a little while reading what other people had already written in Ginny’s annual. I didn’t recognize any of their names, really. I guess they were all eight graders or something. It was mostly the same stupid thing, over and over. Like, “It was really fun being in History class with you this year,” and “Stay sweet, and good luck” and “Have a nice summer, but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (ha, ha),” and stuff like that. That’s why I hate having somebody sign my annual, or me having to sign somebody else’s, because nobody can ever think of anything interesting to say. It’s always some stupid version of “stay sweet, stay cool, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (ha, ha).” 

     I had a hard time trying to think of what to write, because I didn’t want it to be like what everybody else had written. To tell the truth, the main thing was I didn’t know how to approach it, whether to sound like just a friend of hers, or like maybe I was a little bit goo-goo for her. What I needed was to think of something that could be taken either way, just to play it safe, in case Ginny wasn’t goo-goo about me, the way I was for her. I sat there for practically the whole period, but nothing came to me. Then I realized I only had about five minutes left before fifth period started and I’d have to give Ginny her annual back. So I didn’t have any choice but to just write something down real quick, whatever came into my head. This is what came into my stupid head:

To Ginny, the nicest and sweetest and cheerfullest girl in Rustburg. It was fun being in Art class with you this year and getting to know you some. You’re a pretty good artist, for a left-handed person. (But that can’t be all bad, because Ty Cobb was left-handed, too.)    I hope to really really get to know you even better next year. Stay sweet and have a good summer. Warren G., ‘78.

     That was pretty crappy, all in all. I said all the “stay sweet” stuff that I hate to see in annuals, but I really couldn’t help it. I couldn’t think of anything else. I wasn’t sure about the “I hope to really really get to know you even better” part, after I wrote it, but it was in ink, so it was too late. I don’t know why I underlined the “really really” part, either. I hoped her father wouldn’t see it and think it was suspicious or something. I could just picture him reading it and yelling at her, “Hey, what did this Warren kid mean by that?  I better not catch him coming anywhere near you, you hear me?”  I remembered Ginny telling me how strict he was on her. I hoped what I’d written wouldn’t get her into any trouble with him. At least it didn’t sound crude or anything. Yeah, it was all pretty stupid, but at least I didn’t put in any “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” crap, or any “ha, ha, ha” stuff. I was just hoping Ginny would think it was okay.

     The funny thing is, when I got to fifth period Art and traded annuals back with Ginny, I found out she had written practically the same thing to me. She wrote:

To Warren, a really cute and sweet guy who talked to me in Art class even though I was only an eighth grader. Thanks for making it so much fun!  Have a good summer but don’t spend it all listening to the Doobie Brothers (yeecch!). (I’m just kidding!!)  I hope we get to know each other even more next year, when I’ll be a real Freshman. I can’t wait! See ya!  Ginny, ‘79.

     Well, after I read that, I didn’t feel so bad about what I’d written. In fact, I was feeling pretty good about it, because now I was pretty sure that Ginny was kinda goo-goo about me some, too. We sat at our little table there in Art class, working on our pen and ink projects, and talking. It was really nice. Mr. Michaels was playing his “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” tape, which he likes so much. It’s pretty cool. I like Elton John okay. Me and Ginny’s favorite song on there is called “Bennie and the Jets.”  We were listening to it and working away on our projects, and every time it got to the part in the song where Elton John sings, “Bennie...Bennie...Bennie...Bennie and the Jetsssss,” over and over, Ginny would sing along with it. Not really loud, where the whole class could hear her, but just loud enough for me to hear. But instead of singing the word “Bennie,” she was saying “Ginny.”  And every time she’d sing the part that goes, “Ba-Ba-Ba-Bennie and the Jetsssss,” she’d sing it, “Ja-Ja-Ja-Ginny and the Jetsssss,” which we both thought was pretty funny. She’s a good singer, too. When she got to that long “sssss” sound at the end of every line, she’d reach over and kinda jab me in the shoulder with her finger, and pucker her lips like you would do if you were about to kiss somebody. And she had that incredible happy look on her face, the one she always has. She seemed so damn happy. It must have rubbed off on me or something, because I started feeling really happy, too, and light headed. And then I did something that I swear I wasn’t even thinking about or planning on doing, something that just came right out of the blue, like something deep inside of me just suddenly told me it was the thing to do. Right after Ginny sang a line of “Ja-Ja-Ja-Ginny and the Jetsssss,” I leaned over real close to her, and whispered right into her ear, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

     Man, I couldn’t believe I’d just done that. Even though I’d thought so much about it before, what it’d be like if Ginny was my girlfriend and all, I’d always figured we could never actually be girlfriend and boyfriend, because of the Witness thing, all that stuff I’ve already told you about before, a ways back, about Jehovah’s Witnesses not allowing their young people to be boyfriends and girlfriends with each other, because young people aren’t old enough yet to take on the responsibilities of marriages and families and all that crap. And especially not worldly girlfriends and boyfriends. That was out of the question, like I told you before.

     I was really shocked that I’d said that to Ginny. And at first she didn’t even answer me, which made me wish I’d never said it, like maybe now she was thinking I was a big idiot or something, for thinking a cute girl like her would want to be the girlfriend of a geek like me. I was starting to feel like I should crawl underneath the table and hide and wait for the bell to ring. I couldn’t believe how stupid I was. But Ginny just kept smiling her big happy smile at me. And when she sang the next line of “Ja-Ja-Ja-Ginny and the Jetsssss,” she leaned over to my ear and said, “Sure thing, Footboy.”   

     Well, fifth period ended right after that, and let me tell you, I was feeling sky high. And when I got to sixth period gym and found out that Lamar Jackson wasn’t there, I felt even higher. It was like a giant burden lifted off my back, not having to be constantly looking out over my shoulder for him every second. I got two good hits and made three impossible catches in our softball game. The whole time I was out there in centerfield, I was singing to myself, “Ja-Ja-Ja-Ginny and the Jetsssss.”  I felt like a million dollars.

     I felt so good about everything, even the ride home on the school bus didn’t get on my nerves nearly as much as it usually does, even with all the stupid little kids screaming and carrying on. I sat with Danny and talked about baseball the whole way. I didn’t tell him anything about me asking Ginny to be my girlfriend. I wasn’t gonna tell anybody about that. I hadn’t figured out yet how I was gonna pull it off, without getting into some kind of trouble somehow. The good thing was, there was only a week of school left. So maybe I could keep it under my hat for that long, with just me and Ginny knowing about it. But I hadn’t really thought about how I was gonna handle the situation. I wanted to keep it a secret from everybody I knew. I couldn’t risk having Freddie and Mom find out about it, that’s for sure.

     When I got home, the first thing Mom said was, “You boys get your homework done right away. We gotta eat supper and get ready for tonight’s meeting and leave here by six o’clock.”

     I said, “Six o’clock?  Why is that?”

     She said, “I’ll tell you why. Because tonight’s the night that the Circuit Servant begins his visit to the congregation, and I want you two to look your best, so both of you are getting haircuts before the meeting tonight. I’ve already called Brother Harris, and he’s coming in early to cut Freddie’s at the Hall. I’ll drop you off at your barber shop on the way there.”

     I said, “Aw, Mom, I just got a haircut, two weeks ago. I don’t need a haircut. It hasn’t really even grown any.”

     She said, “Now Warren, don’t start with me on this again. You’re getting a haircut tonight and that’s final, so get used to it. And I don’t want any of your smart aleck attitude about it, either, young man. So you just better watch yourself, you hear?”

     I just sighed and shook my head and started on back to my room. But Mom yelled after me, “Get back in here, I’m not finished with you.”

     I came back into the living room and she handed me the 1975 Yearbook of Jehovah’s Witnesses and said, “I don’t even have to ask you if you read the text this morning before you went to school. So go ahead and read it to me right now, out loud.”

     I really wasn’t in any kind of mood to be reading the text out loud, after just hearing that I was gonna get another stupid haircut that night. I was plenty mad about things, but I had no choice, really. So I opened up the Yearbook to Tuesday, June 3, and read it:

When I say to someone wicked, “You will positively die,” and you do not actually warn him...in his error he will die, but his blood I shall ask back from your own hand. Ezek. 3:18.

Does this mean that people would perish everlastingly if you were to fail as an individual?  No, for nothing will prevent God’s purpose from being carried out to reach people to the extent he desires. And as a body we will not fail to sound the warning, for our love for God and fellowmen is strong enough to move us to do our best in aiding people to find the way of salvation before it is too late. We are willing to arrange our affairs, even to adjust our circumstances to accomplish this. But this will not free from bloodguilt those who fail to show love and concern for fellowmen. Their loveless, unconcerned attitude would be tantamount to murder. They would not be able to excuse themselves on the basis that they did some preaching, for Jehovah would know the degree of negligence and would pass judgement accordingly.

     Right in the middle of me reading that text, Mom had picked up a Watchtower and was glancing through it. I don’t think she was paying any attention to what I was reading. When I finished, she just looked up and said, “Now you be thinking about that while you go do your homework. And don’t forget what I said about us leaving early for the meeting. Now go.”

     I went on back to my room and I layed out across my bed, to rest a little bit and try to calm down, because I was still mad about things. I didn’t do any thinking about the daily text, though. All I could think about was the stuff that had happened at school that day, which was mainly just the stuff with Ginny. I opened up my Rustburg High School annual and read what she’d written in there again, over and over about twenty-nine times. Then I layed there and stared at her picture for a long time. That was about all I could do, really. The only homework I had that night was to read the last chapter of Slaughterhouse-Five, but I’d run off and left it in my locker at school, so I’d have to try to read it before homeroom the next morning.

     I got to wondering about what it was gonna be like at school the next day, with Ginny. What I was wondering was, would she want to walk around the halls in the morning and hold hands and stuff, the way the other kids do that are going together?  I knew I couldn’t risk doing that, because Freddie might see me and come home and tell Mom. I figured it was too late in the year to worry about trying to share a locker with Ginny, so I didn’t think she’d bring that up. Sharing a locker is something else you’re supposed to do at school when you’re going with somebody, like I said before. The main thing I was worried about was whether or not she’d want to talk to me on the phone all the time. I definitely wouldn’t be able to pull that one off. I didn’t know how I was gonna handle it, either, if she asked me to call her, or if she started calling me all the time. Mom sure got mad when Ginny called the night before, that’s for sure.

     The more I thought about it all, the more I realized it was gonna be a problem, and then I began to panic about the whole situation, and wonder why in the world I had upped and asked Ginny to be my girlfriend like that, in the first place. Why do I always seem to bring these problems on myself?

     Well, pretty soon Mom came and said supper was ready, so I got up and went on into the kitchen and we started eating, me and Mom and Freddie. Dad was at work, of course. Mom asked me about a million questions the whole time I was trying to eat. Had I finished my homework. Yes. Did my guidance counselor call me in today. No. Had I been working on my talk for Thursday. Yes. I didn’t mind answering those stupid questions, I was just worried she was gonna start asking me whether or not I’d been thinking about what she told me Sunday I’d better be thinking about, which was didn’t I think it was about time that I symbolized my dedication to Jehovah by getting baptized at the Roanoke assembly, which was just a few weeks away. I hadn’t been thinking about that, even though she’d told me to be. And I knew sooner or later she was gonna bring it back up again. But she never brought it up during supper, which was one good thing, as far as I was concerned.

     When supper was over, I didn’t even wait for Mom to tell me it was still my week to do the dishes. I just got up and started doing them. I knew if I waited any, and Mom had to tell me to do them, I’d just get mad about having to do them again, and probably start a big argument and get yelled at and everything. I didn’t feel like going through all that again, for some reason. Besides, sometimes it seems that when you know you gotta do something you don’t like doing, if you just start doing it and get it over with, that’s better than having somebody remind you that you gotta do it in the first place. Then you don’t get quite as mad about having to do it.

     Anyway, I got the dishes done, and got ready for the meeting and all, and we left by six o’clock, like Mom had said we’d have to. And she dropped me off at the Fort Avenue Barber Shop, so I could get my hair cut, and her and Freddie drove on off down the street to the Kingdom Hall.

     I went into the barber shop, and Ray, my barber I was telling you about before, was sitting in there in his big barber chair, smoking a cigarette and talking to this old man that’s all the time sitting around in the barber shop. I didn’t know what that old man’s name was, but he’s always sitting in the same chair over against the wall, every time I go in there to get my hair cut. When Ray saw me come in he stood up and said, “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. Didn’t expect you back so soon. Weren’t you just in here, not too long ago?”

     I said, “Two weeks.”

     Ray said, “I didn’t think it’d been very long.”

     I got up in the big chair, and Ray said, “So what’ll it be?  The usual?”

     I said, “Yeah. A little bit off the sides and a little bit off the top. But not quite as much as usual, since it’s only been two weeks.”

     Ray said, “You gonna have time for a shave tonight?”

     I said, “Nope. Ain’t got the time. Sorry.”

     Ray laughed and said, “Okay, just checking.”

     Then he started spinning me around in that big barber chair, cutting my hair, and like always, I was trying to check out his dirty calendars the whole time. I noticed right away he had this new one I’d never seen before. It was opened up to the month of June, and it showed this really beautiful girl standing out on the edge of a diving board, with her back to a big swimming pool. She was facing the camera with her hands raised up over her head and her chest jutted out real far. And she had this really big smile on her face. There was water dripping down off the ends of her hair, and beaded up all on her skin. Back behind her you could see the far end of the swimming pool, which was filled with blue water, and steam was rising up off of it.

     One of the things that made me stare so hard was because she kinda reminded me of Ginny a little bit, in the face, the way she was smiling and looking at the camera. She had an expression on her face that I’ve see on Ginny’s sometimes, like that very day in Art class when she was singing that “Bennie and the Jets” song and jabbing me in the arm with her finger. The calendar girl’s face wasn’t exactly like Ginny’s, but enough to where you’d say that’s what Ginny might look like in a few years, after she gets her braces taken off and grows herself some boobs.

     The other thing that made me stare so hard was the fact that she was wearing this really wild one-piece bathing suit. It wasn’t skimpy or anything, but it was completely wet, like she’d just climbed up out of the pool and was getting ready to jump back in. And it must have been made out of some kind of material that becomes practically invisible when it gets wet, because you could see right through it. You could see her whole body, through her bathing suit, just as if she were standing there naked. And she had a really great looking body, too, believe you me. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. When Ray would spin the chair in a different direction, I would slowly try to turn my head back to the side so I could keep peeking at her.

     Well, Ray must have known what I was doing, because after a while he said, “So, what do you think of Miss June there, Warren?”

     I said, “Miss June?  Oh, Miss June. I was just looking at the numbers on the calendar. To, uh, see what day of the week my birthday falls on this year.”

     Ray said, “Your birthday’s in June?  What day?”

     “Uh, the thirty-first. I mean the thirtieth. June thirtieth. Yeah, looks like it falls on a Monday this year.”  Of course I was lying like hell. My birthday is really on the Fourth of July.

     “Well how about that. Gotta birthday coming up, huh?  How old you gonna be?”

     “Fifteen.”

     “Fifteen!  Well, fifteen’s a good age to be. A lot of good things can happen when you’re fifteen. I seem to remember having myself a pretty good time, when I was fifteen. How about you, Buck?”

     The old man sitting across the room there, the one that’s always in the barber shop but I didn’t know what his name was, kinda grunted and nodded his head.

     Then Ray said, “So, anyway, what do you think of my Miss June there?  She kinda makes you want to go swimming, don’t she?”

     I said, “Yeah, I guess she does. But I’m not a very good swimmer. I’m not much of a diver, either.”  That was true. I’d just learned to swim last summer, really, at a lake called Grandview Lake. Before then, I could only do a dog paddle, but that ain’t really considered swimming. And I’ve always been too scared to dive into water head first. I always just jump in, feet first. I don’t know why.

     Ray said, “Is that right?  Well, don’t worry about that any. I was just getting around to learning how to dive when I was about your age, I guess. I don’t think I’d done much diving before then. It’ll come to you, don’t worry.”  He clipped away at my hair for another minute or so, then he said, “Tell me something, Warren, you ever tried doing one of those muff dives?”

     I said, “No, mainly I’ve just done cannonballs and bananas, and simple stuff like that. Nothing fancy.”

     Ray said, “Oh,” and laughed a little bit. Buck laughed a little bit, too.

     When Ray was finished, I paid him $3.50, which is what he always charges me, and Ray said, “Thanks, buddy. Take it easy now, see ya next time,” like he always says to me, and I said, “Yeah, see ya next time,” which is what I always say.

     Just as I was fixing to go out the door, he said, “Hey, wait a minute there, Warren.”  So I turned around to see what he wanted. He was reaching up over his mirror, pulling down that calendar with Miss June on it. He walked over and handed it to me and said, “In case I don’t see you before the end of the month, Happy Birthday.”

     I didn’t know what to do or say or anything. So I just took it from him and said, “Thanks, Ray. Thanks a lot. See ya later,” and left.

     So there I was, walking down Fort Avenue on my way to the Tuesday Night Book Study at the Kingdom Hall, carrying a 1975 calendar with twelve different pictures of beautiful naked girls on it. I was happy as hell that Ray had given it to me, but then I got to wondering what the hell I was gonna actually do with it. I couldn’t just carry it into the Kingdom Hall, that’s for sure. And I couldn’t just throw it down on the sidewalk somewhere or on somebody’s front lawn. But I had to do something with it. Then I figured it out. When I got down close to the Kingdom Hall, I slipped by Mom’s car to pick up my New World Translation of the Holy Scriptures and my Eternal Purpose book and my Singing and Accompanying Yourselves With Music In Your Hearts songbook, which I had left in the back of the car when Mom had dropped me off at the barber shop. So I grabbed them off the back seat, and at the same time, stuck my new calendar up under the back seat, under the carpet. I’d have to leave it there and hope nobody would find it, at least until I could figure out what I was gonna do with it.

     I grabbed my Witness books and headed on up the sidewalk and up the front steps and into the front door of the Kingdom Hall. The meeting was just starting. Brother Harris was up on the platform, telling everybody to stand and turn to song number 40, which was “Good Cheer Amid Earth’s Darkness.”  So they put on the record and played the song, and everybody stood up and sang along. For some reason, in the middle of the song, I saw Mom turn around and look at me, and when she saw me, she kinda gave me one of her mean looks, for just a second. I couldn’t figure that out at all. When the song was over, Brother Harris said the opening prayer, and then the Book Study began.

     Well, like I told you about before, the study that night was in chapter 14 of God’s “Eternal Purpose” Now Triumphing For Man’s Good book. And that chapter deals mainly with 1914 and the signs for the “Time of the End,” and with the “Great Crowd” that will survive Armageddon, and all that stuff, which I also told you about a lot before. I was sitting in the back of the Kingdom Hall, where I always sit. I wasn’t paying much attention, really. I thought about paying attention for a few minutes and maybe even raising my hand and reading the answer to one of the questions, but I didn’t. I guess my mind was wandering around too much, thinking about Ginny, and about my new calendar out there under the back seat. Just as something to do, to relieve my boredom during the Study, I wrote Ginny’s initials over and over about a million times in the margins of my Eternal Purpose book. I covered practically every page with “G.M.”  I was running out of places to write it. Finally, after about a million years, the hour was up and the Book Study was over.

     Normally, they’d just sing another song and say a prayer and the meeting would be over and we could go on home. But since the new Circuit Servant was there, the meeting was gonna last another thirty minutes or so, to give him some time to talk about what all he had planned for the week.

     In case I haven’t explained it before, I guess I better tell you who the Circuit Servant is and what he does. Well, he’s a special Brother that the Society sends around to all the congregations in a “circuit.”  He’s supposed to check out how everything is going, and try to help the local elders solve any problems that might be going on inside the congregation and stuff. He comes around about twice a year. Mainly, he spends most of his time going out in Field Service, with whoever shows up to go out with him. That’s supposed to be a big deal, to go out in Field Service with the Circuit Servant. He more or less does it for a living, you see, so he’s pretty much an expert at talking to worldly people at the door. He knows all the right things to say to spark interest in the Truth, depending on what kind of person answers the door and what kind of neighborhood they’re living in and what time of the year it is, and stuff like that. So going out in Field Service with him is supposed to be a good way to pick up pointers and work on your presentation.

     I better stop and explain that part, too. Your “presentation” is what you actually say to people when they answer the door, after you’ve knocked on it. That’s what the Witnesses call it, their “presentation.”  They believe if you’ve got a good presentation, then people are more likely to buy the Watchtower and Awake magazines or the Truth book or whatever it is you’re offering to them at the time. Or course, if your presentation stinks, people aren’t apt to take the literature. They’ll probably say they’re not interested, or that they have their own religion, or something else like that. Sometimes they’ll slam the door in your face or insult you or try to pick an argument with you about which religion is the best.

     That’s another thing, the Witnesses call all their books and magazines and tracts and stuff, “the literature.”

     If you ask me, sometimes it doesn’t really matter what kind of presentation you use at the door, some people are gonna take the literature, and some people aren’t. And I’ll tell you why I say that, too. You see, I remember this one time a while back, when I was about nine or ten years old, Mom made me go out in Field Service one Saturday morning, even though I didn’t want to, because even way back then I hated going out in Service, for some reason. Anyway, a bunch of us got into a car and drove off from the Kingdom Hall, and when we got out in the Field, we had to break up into pairs and go off into different directions and start knocking on people’s doors. I ended up being stuck with Freddie. So it was just me and him walking up and down the streets in some stupid neighborhood in Lynchburg, like in Rivermont or somewhere, knocking on people’s doors. The way it worked was, he’d do the talking at one door, and then he’d make me do the talking at the next door, and then he’d take the next one, and we’d keep taking turns like that. Freddie was pretty gung-ho about it, because he’d been out with the Circuit Servant or Brother Harris or some other big shot Witness not long before that, so he’d gotten his presentation down pat and thought he was a big shot, too. The whole time, he kept telling me over and over to listen to his presentation and try to do like he did, when I knocked on a door. All day long, “Listen to me, listen to me.”  I told him to shut up and leave me alone.

     Anyway, we were offering a Watchtower magazine that had an article about how wonderful the New World was gonna be, or something along those lines, which is what all Watchtower articles are usually about, either that or how the Conclusion of the System of Things began in 1914 or how taking a blood transfusion would probably kill you. Whatever. So whenever it was Freddie’s turn to do the talking, he’d go into some elaborate sermon about the New World, and how nice it would be to live forever in a paradise earth free from sickness and death and sin and crime and suffering and strife and roaches and any other terrible stuff he could think of to throw in there. And after he’d said all that, he’d stop and ask the person at the door if they’d like to live in a wonderful world like that, and of course most people’d say “yes.”  Then he’d say, “Well, then, I strongly urge you to accept the offer of this Watchtower magazine, and learn more about how you too can live forever in a paradise earth, for the contribution of ten cents.” 

     And a few people would say okay and give him a dime and take the magazine, and the rest of them would say, “No thanks.” 

     When it was my turn to do the talking, I really didn’t feel like going into some fancy song and dance the way Freddie did. I’d just knock on the door and mumble something about a paradise earth and ask them if they’d be interested in reading the magazine, and a few of them said yes, and the rest of them said no.

     Well, it really made Freddie mad, what I was doing, first of all because I was using such a lousy presentation, and second of all because I was getting about the same kind of results that he was, with about half the effort. He started harassing me about it and telling me I’d better straighten my act up, that I was a poor representative of the Society, and all that. He kept going on and on about it, which was only getting on my nerves, the way he kept running his mouth at me.

     Finally, when we got to the last door on the last street, it was my turn to knock on the door, and by that time I was really sick and tired of listening to Freddie rant and rave about how lousy me and my presentation were, and how terrific his was, which must not have been all that terrific, if you ask me, because he hadn’t placed a magazine in the last ten or twenty doors, but I had placed two.

     That’s another thing. That’s what the Witnesses call it when somebody buys a magazine from them, that they “placed” the magazine with that person. It’s always “placed,” not “sold.”  When a Witness comes back from Field Service and somebody asks him how he did, and he says, “Well, let’s see. I had a pretty good day, I guess. I placed twelve Watchtowers and two Truth books,”  that’s just another way of saying he sold twelve Watchtowers and two Truth books.

     So anyway, like I was saying, I knocked on that last door, and some old scaggy lady came and opened it, and I was pretty tired from listening to Freddie’s crap for the last couple of hours, and it was hot as hell walking up and down them stupid streets all day, and I just wanted Field Service to hurry up and be over with already. So all I did was hold up the stupid magazine and say, “Hey, lady, you wanna buy a Watchtower?” 

     And believe it or not, she said, “How much is it?”

     And I said, “Ten cents.”

     She gave me a dime and took the magazine. She turned out to be a pretty nice old lady, because right before she closed the door she smiled and said to me, “You look just like the little boy on that Leave it to Beaver show. Did anybody ever tell you that?”

    Man oh man, that made Freddie madder than hell, that presentation I’d used on that old lady, and the fact that she’d took the magazine. The first thing he did when we got home was tell Mom about the whole thing, which of course got me into pretty big trouble, which I couldn’t understand, because I’d placed the damn magazine, hadn’t I, and wasn’t that what I was supposed to be doing, after all?  But Mom punished me by taking my bike away for a week.

     Anyway, going back to what I was talking about before, after the Book Study part of the Tuesday night meeting was over, Brother Harris said, “And now Brothers and Sisters, it’s time for everybody to meet our new Circuit Servant, who just arrived today and will be with us through Sunday evening. So, let’s welcome to the Lynchburg Congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses, Brother Gottwald. Brother Gottwald?”

     Everybody applauded and Brother Harris left the platform and Brother Gottwald went up there. He was a tall guy. He had on a nice looking suit, too, nicer than what most regular Brothers usually wear. He didn’t look real old or anything, but he wasn’t real young either.

     Brother Gottwald said, “Thank you Brother Harris, and thank you to everyone for such a warm, warm welcome. My wife Judy and I are very pleased to be here with you all this week. As you know, this is our first time here in Lynchburg, and we’re so looking forward to meeting everyone and working with as many of you as possible out in the Field. We hope to give as well as to receive much fine Christian encouragement, which I’m sure we all agree is so important to us in these critical last days, which are so hard to deal with. Also, we have much fine uplifting spiritual food to impart to you during the course of this week, and have therefore planned various special meetings and Field Service activities, which I’m sure will be of tremendous benefit for one and all.

     “First, let me say that each day, Wednesday through Saturday, we’ll be meeting right here at the Kingdom Hall, every morning at 9:00 and every afternoon at 2:00, organizing into little groups for Field Service activities, and then going out from door to door, preaching the good news of the Kingdom, which is the all important work we’ve been commissioned by our Almighty God Jehovah to carry out in these last days. We’ll be doing that on Sunday afternoon as well.”

     Well, everything Brother Gottwald had said so far was pretty much what I was expecting him to say. But what he said next wasn’t.

     “I’m also very happy to announce,” he said, “that due to the urgency of these critical times in which we live, we’ll be having some very special meetings here at the Kingdom Hall, beginning tomorrow night, again Friday night, and again on Saturday night, all beginning at 7:30, as well as the regularly scheduled Thursday night meeting. Wednesday night’s topic will be, ‘How We Know God’s Government Will Take Control Soon.’  Friday night’s topic will be, ‘Proving Ourselves Worthy to Enter God’s New Order.’  Saturday night’s topic will be, ‘Events That Still Lie Ahead.’  And Sunday, of course, we’ll be enjoying the regularly scheduled Watchtower Study, after which I’ll present a special talk on the timely topic, ‘One World, One Government, Under God’s Sovereignty,’  which I’m sure no one will want to miss. 

     “So as you can see, with such a busy week planned, we have much to look forward to in the next five days, and I encourage as much participation as possible, as we expect Jehovah’s blessing to be bountiful, as always.

     “Now, then, generally on Tuesday nights, I like to use the time provided to tell you a little bit about myself and my background and how I came to have the good fortune of serving you in my present capacity...”

     Jesus, after hearing Brother Gottwald go through all that, all I could think about was, it sure looked like I was gonna be stuck right there at the Kingdom Hall every night for the rest of the week. I just couldn’t believe it. You see, usually, in the past, when our old Circuit Servant Brother Davis came, the only special meeting he had was on Saturday night, which was bad enough, to have to go to the Kingdom Hall four times in the same week. But now Brother Gottwald was adding Wednesday night and Friday night, too. Man, I just couldn’t believe it. That meant six days in a row I’d have to be going to the Kingdom Hall, six days in one blasted week.

     And I definitely wasn’t keen on going out in Field Service with Brother Gottwald, or with anybody else for that matter. I guess by everything I’ve said about Field Service already, you can tell how much I hate it. Which is too bad for me, because Field Service is like the most important thing in the world to Jehovah’s Witnesses, because of what Jesus said in Matthew 28:19, to go therefore and make disciples, and all that. Most of the time I can avoid it, but not always. You see, last summer Mom started making me go out every Wednesday morning. And during the school year she sometimes makes me go out on Saturday morning. But since the weather started getting warm this spring and the grass started to grow, I’ve been cutting grass on Saturday mornings, on Uncle Virgil’s street, like I told you about before, so somehow I’d been able to avoid Field Service for a while. Of course Freddie goes out on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons, and any other time he can.

     I knew I’d be stuck going to all those special meetings of Brother Gottwald’s at the Kingdom Hall for the rest of the week, but I figured with a little luck I could get out of the special Field Service activities he was talking about, because I still had school for the rest of the week, and I was supposed to cut grass again that coming Saturday morning. And I was gonna try my best to go with Danny and his dad to Miller Park on Sunday afternoon, to play baseball, like we’d been doing for the last couple of months. I knew that would probably take some real doing, the way things were starting to look, though.

     So, while I was sitting there getting more and more depressed thinking about all those special meetings I was gonna be going to for the rest of the week, Brother Gottwald was standing up there talking about how he learned the Truth and became a Jehovah’s Witness, and how he met his wife, and how they’d gotten married and decided early on that they’d serve Jehovah together and put off having children until after Armageddon, when they’d be able to raise perfect kids in the perfect New World. And he talked about how they’d both been missionaries together in some foreign countries, and how they’d both served at Bethel together for a bunch of years, and how he’d been a teacher at some kind of special missionary school up there at Bethel for a while, and how now they enjoyed so much his new assignment of traveling to the congregations in our circuit and providing upbuilding encouragement to the Brothers and Sisters, as this old world wound down closer and closer to its final destruction, and on and on and on. He must have talked for over an hour. Finally, he had us stand and sing song number 16, “God’s Army is Advancing,” and then he gave the closing prayer, and the meeting was over.

     Of course as soon as the prayer was finished, everybody started crowding around Brother Gottwald and his wife, introducing themselves and shaking their hands and making a big fuss over them, and all that kind of stuff. I figured I’d get to meet him sometime sooner or later, so I didn’t rush up there to him like everybody else did. I just stood around in the back, waiting for Mom and Freddie and Sister Straiter to come on back, so we could leave and go home. I mean, I wasn’t trying to avoid Brother Gottwald or anything. And I wasn’t really what you’d call mad at him, for coming and having all those special meetings this week, because I realized that was what he was supposed to be doing, being the Circuit Servant and all. He seemed like a nice enough man, really. And from what I could see from where I was standing, his wife looked pretty good, but I was trying not to stare or anything, in case somebody saw me and got the idea that I was back there lusting after her or something. Another thing I’ll say, too, and that is Brother Gottwald was a really good speaker, like most Circuit Servants are, because they have to give so many talks. They hardly ever use notes, so it really is like they’re up there “talking” to you during a talk, instead of just reading a speech to you.

      I think what it all comes down to is that I’m really just a pretty shy person, all in all. I don’t like going up to people that I don’t really know, and introducing myself and making small talk with them, and stuff like that. I’m just not very good at it. To tell you the truth, if it had been the Doobie Brothers up there instead of Brother Gottwald, I still would have had a hard time trying to go up there and introduce myself. You might not believe that, considering how hung up I am on the Doobie Brothers, but I think it’s true, just the same.

     Anyway, I’d been standing in the back of the Hall for a pretty good while, killing time by reading some of the stuff that was posted on the bulletin board, not paying attention to much of anything. And somebody came up behind me and said, “And who do we have here?”

     I turned around and it was Brother Gottwald standing there, by himself, with his hand stuck out. So I reached out and shook his hand and said, “Warren Grubber.”

     He said, “Warren Grubber. Nice to meet you, Warren Grubber. I think I just met your mother, Betty, and your brother, Freddie. Am I right?”

     I said, “Yeah, that’s them.”

     “Well, so nice to meet all the Grubbers. Your brother Freddie and I just made arrangements to work out in the Field on Saturday. I hope you’ll join us. It’s so encouraging to see young ones with such a zeal for the Truth. I do hope you’ll join us.”

     I said, “Thanks.”

     It wasn’t long after that that we left. We dropped Sister Straiter off at her place, on our way home, as usual. Freddie talked the whole way about how much he enjoyed listening to Brother Gottwald and meeting him, and how anxious he was to go out with Brother Gottwald in Field Service on Saturday, and how exciting the special talks were gonna be, and all that. Mom didn’t say much of anything. I could tell she was mad about something, but I didn’t know what. I got to worrying that maybe somehow she saw me from one of the Kingdom Hall windows or something, when I hid my calendar under the back seat. But I was pretty sure that wasn’t possible, because the car was parked a good ways up the street from the Hall. I didn’t know what it was that was bothering her, but I was sure hoping it didn’t have anything to do with me.

     When we got home, it was kinda late, so I decided to just wash up and go to bed. I was pretty tired. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth and all. I stood there in front of the mirror for a while and looked at my new haircut. It didn’t look too bad, really, as far as new haircuts go. Ray hadn’t taken so much off that it looked as geeky as most new haircuts tend to look. So I felt pretty good about that. Then I got to looking at my face. I had about five pretty bad pimples, altogether, and three kinda little ones, that weren’t as bad. The very worst one, which had been like this big red egg on my forehead for the last three or four days, was starting to go away, which also made me feel pretty good. If I could get the other ones to go away, and no more new ones would show up, then I’d really start feeling great. That’d be one less pain in the ass thing in my life to have to worry about.

     While I was standing there looking at myself, I got to thinking about Ginny again, for some reason. And then I got to thinking about Miss June on the diving board that looked so much like Ginny. And then I started getting a little worked up, if you know what I mean. And even though I hadn’t been planning on doing it or anything, I decided to play with myself a little bit, there in the bathroom, before I went to bed. The bathroom door was locked, of course. That’s why I do it in the bathroom when I do it, because it’s really the only place in the house that nobody can just barge in on you. My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, and besides, I have to share a room with Freddie, anyway, so there’s no chance of having any privacy in there.

     I pulled my pants down and sat down on the toilet and closed my eyes and tried to imagine Ginny standing out on that diving board with no clothes on, and I started playing with myself. I hadn’t been at it too long when somebody started pounding on the bathroom door.

     “Warren!  Warren!  What are you doing in there?  Open this door right now. You’ve been in there long enough.”  It was Mom doing all the yelling.

     I jumped up real quick and pulled my pants up and ran my hands underneath some water for a few seconds, to make it sound like I’d been washing my face or brushing my teeth or something. Then I opened the door, and Mom was standing right there.

     She said, “Well, I guess you thought you could get away with it this time, huh?  You thought I wouldn’t pay any attention to you, this time, didn’t you?”

     Jesus,  I knew I was in big trouble now. Mom must have found my calendar, and she must have somehow figured out what I was actually doing all that time I was in the bathroom. I was a goner, that’s for sure.

     “But, Mom—“

     “Don’t ‘but Mom’ me. I’ve warned you over and over, but you just won’t seem to get it through your thick head, so now I have no choice but to do what I told you I was gonna do.”

     “What are you talking about?”

     “Don’t play that game with me, you know good and well what I’m talking about.”  She pulled her right hand out from behind her back and held up a pair of scissors. “If you can’t tell that barber of yours how to cut your hair the way I want it cut, then I’ll just have to cut it myself. I’ve been letting you slide long enough. And don’t say I didn’t warn you, either.”

     She grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so that I was directly facing her. Then she grabbed my chin with one hand, and with her other hand she took those scissors and started at the very top of one side of my forehead and chopped my bangs off in a straight line, all the way across to the other side of my forehead.

     When she was finished, she said, “I told you and told and told you before, that I ain’t no barber, but you wouldn’t listen. I bet you’ll listen next time. Now clean that hair up off the floor and go to bed, and I don’t want to hear a single word from you, either. Not a word, and I mean it. It’s your own fault.”  Then she walked out of the bathroom.

     What I can’t believe is, I never said a word or even tried to pull away or move at all the whole ten seconds or so that she was standing there ruining my hair. When she finished and said what she said to me, I just stood there and looked at her. I must have been in shock or something. I’m a small kid for my age, which I know I’ve told you a bunch of times before, but I’m still about an inch taller than Mom. I could have pushed her away or punched her, if I’d wanted to. I could have grabbed her wrist and twisted it away from my face. I was physically capable of doing that. But I didn’t. I don’t know why I stood there like I did. I don’t know why I stood there and let myself be humiliated like that. I don’t know why.

     I cleaned up my hair, like she told me to, and went to bed, like she told me to, and didn’t say a word, like she told me to.