Things were looking up in the 864th Engineer Battalion at Fort Lewis. Why were they looking up? Simple. My days in the battalion were numbered. Yes folks, I was on the way out. I was getting reassigned to the area support group. That right there was cause for celebration. Go shout it on the mountain tops. I had even been planning to climb Mount Rainier. I had tried a couple times before, but I had only made it as far as the base camp at Camp Muir. I was in great shape, and I had lost a few unnecessary pounds. Thus, I thought I was ready to make the push all the way to the summit. Circumstances beyond my control had other ideas as it turned out. I received a call from an Air Force liaison dude I didn’t know. He said, “Hello. Is this Wright Masters?” “Yes, I am Wright Masters. Who in the hell is this?” I replied. “I am Air Force Master Sergeant Bruce Johnson,” he said. “I am calling because I need to speak with you about your sister-in-law.” “It’s your dime Master Sergeant,” I said. “Your sister-in-law is not well and needs to ask a favor of you. I don’t want to get into everything over the phone. Can you take some leave and come down here?” “You mean, come down there as in, come to California?” “Yeah.” “Why in the hell can’t you just tell me what you need to tell me over the phone?” “She wants you to come down here. Could you please come down?” “Could you put her on the phone please.” My sister-in-law reluctantly said hello to me. Then, she dropped a major bombshell on me. It didn’t quite reach tactical nuclear proportions, but it shocked the shit out of me all the same. She said, “I am sick and want to move back to Washington and live with you for a while.” “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Hold on just a darn minute here. What do you mean, for the time you have left?” I said. “We’ll talk and I’ll explain everything when you get here. Okay? Please come quickly.” “Okay. “I’ll try to leave today. Let me talk with that Bruce fella.” Master Sergeant Johnson came back on the phone and said, “Hello? I’m back.” “So, what I want to know is why you’re involved in all of this? I said. Your sister-in-law asked for a liaison officer to be assigned to assist her with all of her benefits. I was appointed as that liaison officer. Then, she asked me to contact you.” “Well, if she wanted to contact me, why in the hell did she ask you to call me? Why didn’t she just call me herself? She has the goddamn number.” “She said you don’t get along too well with her family.” “Yeah. So. What the hell does her family have to do with anything? Besides, I ain’t denying that I don’t get along with those leeches. They’re all a bunch of penny-beggars that think I have all the pennies. But I ain’t ever had a problem with her. She knows that.” “Well, she needs an inconveniently big favor, and she was afraid to ask you herself.” “Oh, that’s horse shit. She asks me for favors all the damn time. Take for instance two years ago when she asked me to help her buy that damn rolling piece of imported shit Fiat Spider 2000. Biggest damn mistake she ever made. She paid cash money for the piece of shit. I told her she might as well just draw the damn money out of the bank and burn it cuz that’s exactly what she was doing by throwing it away on that hunk of junkyard tin. Then, there’s the time she asked me to stand up for her and give her away in her second marriage. I did that too even though I didn’t know the bum she was marrying. And how long did that marriage last? Huh? Do you know? Bet she conveniently forgot about those ‘little’ favors. In fact, that’s the only time I ever hear from her, when she needs a ‘big’ favor. So, I’m having a really hard time understanding why she needs your help to ask me for a favor this time. Unless, wait, I got it. She wants to invest in another lost cause flea market scheme to sink big chunks of money into just so she can lose it all. Right?” “Lieutenant Masters, you are coming to California, remember?” “I am? Oh yeah. That’s right. I am. In a pig’s eye, I am. California is a long way away from here, dude. I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and come running down there. I’ve got to rethink the whole idea. Besides, California is a pretty big state, and she has moved at least three or four times since the last time I was down there to see her. To where in California do I need to go?” “Novato. It’s in Marin County north of San Francisco.” “I’ll find it. What’s the address?” “Call me when you get here, and we can meet first.” “Alright, but why can’t I just go straight to her place? Why do you have to be the butt-in-ski for everything?” “I’m the liaison officer, remember? It’ll be better if we meet first to discuss a few things before you see her.” “That sounds like total bullshit, but okay. If you say so.” So, I took off for California on a Greyhound. When I got to San Francisco, I called Master Sergeant Johnson and said, “Hello, Bruce, I’m here. Can you come pick me up?” He replied, “Where are you?” “Greyhound Station,” I told him and he showed up about 45 minutes later. He took off down the peninsula as soon as we were in the car. So, I asked, “Not that it matters, but where in the hell are you going? We’re headed south, and I’m always one for sightseeing and joyriding. But the city is the other way. Are you taking the scenic route cuz you ain’t got nothing better to do?” He replied, “Your sister-in-law is in Palo Alto right now. We’re headed there to see her.” “Palo Alto? What the hell? Did she move in the two days since I last talked to you?” “No. No. Nothing like that. She’s at the VA hospital.” “What the hell? How bad it is really?” “I’ll let her tell you the details.” After getting to the hospital, my sister-in-law told me what was going on and then she asked me and Bruce to take her to her home in Novato where we could talk in greater detail. After Bruce drove us to Novato, he said goodbye and left. When my sister-in-law and I were alone, she dropped another tactical nuclear warhead on me. And let me tell you, it shocked the shit out of me. She said, “When I move back to Washington to live with you, it is for the time I have left, also my mom would have to move back there with me. Would that be okay?” Now you need to understand, me and my mother-in-law do not get along at all. We essentially cannot get along to save our lives as if we were each burning alive. So, I replied to my sister-in-law, “You know that I would never have a problem with you moving back home to be with us. But your mom, though. Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that. Two flushes ought to do it.” “What do you mean, two flushes ought to do it?” “You know. flush that idea down the toilet.” “That’s just wrong. Flush it down the toilet? You mean like shit?” “I mean exactly like shit. You catch on quick. There’s hope for you, yet. What are you going to do with your stuff? “Well, I don’t have much. I was thinking we could get a rental truck and haul everything back. Then you could either just come back for the car or take the car first and come back later for me.” “No. No. We’ll get a truck and move you and your stuff first. I’ll come back later for the car. Maybe if we rent a truck with a small enough cab, your mom can ride in the back with the furniture. Or better yet, she can ride on the roof. Maybe she’ll get blown off by the wind, or maybe we’ll hit a big enough bump to knock her off. Yeah. That’ll work. Or, here is a thought. I could buy one of those little red toy wagons, and I could hook it up behind the truck. Then, your mom could ride in the wagon while we tow it. Yeah. That’s a plan. I love it when a plan comes together.” I wished that could be a serious exercise in futility avoided.
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