The Golden and the Tarnish

Prologue

It was raining in Stillwater, Oklahoma on Friday, June 6 1951. My every/no coloured eyes locked on my mother's twitching hands. From what I see in the driver's mirror, is my eyes filled with different colours, such as a rim of blue, a hue of purple, a rim of black and an irises of the deepest colour, that can be seen everywhere in nature. Green.

My mother tends to twitch her hands quite often. Her light brown hair fell around her petite face, making a wall of invisibility towards my prying eyes. She could be called beautiful, but I call her angelic.

The tapping continued against the 1950 Dodge Coronet 2-Door roof. It gave an unpromising feel to the dark car. Even though it was late morning the sky was grey and portentous. My rubber jacket squeaked against the fake leather seats, as I squirmed underneath the tense air.

I could wheel down the windows, but my mother would probably scold me. The back of the seats held me and my two-year old brother Kenneth. He wore a bright yellow rain bonnet over his dark brunet mane. His thumb wedged between his pink lips. In his tiny chubby hands, he held a red old ball. The stitching was wearing off and the red was dull shade of colour.

Tap Tap Tap went the rain droplets. It sounded thunderous in the blue car. I needed something to get my mind off of the overwrought atmosphere of the car. I stared out into the world outside of the stale car, filled with boxes. The long grass held grazing animals, from cows to bulls and horses.

I wondered if this is where we might live. But we headed on to al town. A modest sized billboard with the words, 'Tulsa, Oklahoma , Population 455,261'. The navy blue sign at the bottom swung lightly as we drove past it.

"Welcome to Tulsa, kiddos. This is where your old man and I were nurtured and raised in." Mr. Curtis says to me and Kenny.

Kenny looks outside and back at the larger man sitting at the driver's seat. He was wide-ranging shouldered and held a mop of dark oily hair. From the driver's mirror, you can see the happy lines next to his grey-green eyes and a smile on his mustached face.

Mr. Curtis is my dad's old friend from when they were younger. They have known each other ever since they were born and were raised in the same neighbourhood. To me, in my young eyes, I didn't ever see my father as a young boy who had friend and would run around in the mud and play football and soccer.

I looked back and see through the spaces between the boxes, my father and older brothers driving the large moving van behind our car. Even from within the car, you can see the bright, light-hearted smile on my father's hairy face.

We drove past a few modestly sized building and shopping centers. We stopped at a 'Steak n' Shake' drive in and ordered some burgers and fries. My mother handed us some meals and ate hers tenderly. The warm basket of fries heats up my lap and the hardy burger sat between my chubby hands.

"Kenny, you want some fries?" I ask him.

He nodded his head and gives me a tiny grin before taking a hand full of fries. Fisting the slices in his tiny hands, he tries to stuff it into his small mouth. A giggle escapes my throats, making him grin wider.

"Eat slower Ken." He looks up at me and nods, before unraveling his fisted delights and eating them slower. Being the three-year old that I was, I thought I knew everything. But I knew, no less then Kenneth himself.

The car roared with life as Mr. Curtis drove out of the diners and into the paved roads of the town. We continued down the roads smoothly, until we reached a neighbourhood. The houses were huge with white shingles and beautiful lawns and gardens. My eyes widen at the grandness of the locality.

Attractive mustangs sat in some drive ways and neatly dressed kids played in a park and adolescences with the up-to-date trends walked the sidewalks of the area. I gawked at the beautiful school in the intermediate of the district.