Chapter 1
Writing Entry for Friday, January 30
I am supposed to be writing about myself. I do not prefer to do that. Mr. Kubach says it will help me discover myself. Quite frankly, Bobby Shultz “discovered” himself in the locker room and got in trouble last week. I pointed that out to Mr. Kubach and received a reprimand. Mr. Kubach is my ‘special needs’ teacher. I put quote marks around special needs because there is nothing special or needy about being in this ridiculous class.
What good is writing about myself going to do? It is not like writing about myself will magically open my mind to the world around me and intake everything that has not been shoved in already. I tried explaining that to Mr. Kubach. He would not listen even though I thought I presented a well thought out rebuttal of the information. I cited my sources. He still said I had to keep this log about myself. I asked what happens if I do not do it. Failure was his response. How do you fail special needs class? By not being special or needy enough?
Given little choice, I have decided to keep this log. However, I am not going to write about myself. Instead, I will write about my grandfather. Mr. Kubach did not say what I had to write. My grandfather is a part of me, biologically speaking of course.
I have a feeling that this assignment was just a way to keep me busy and stop “being a paperweight” as Mr. Kubach likes to say. “Being a paperweight” is when a kid sits around and does not do anything. I probably could write down anything, and it would not matter. My guess is that he will not even read this assignment. I am still going to write about my grandfather though. Thinking about him makes being in this school somewhat tolerable. Sometimes.
Bernard Trevor Pierce was born February, 21 1940 in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Nothing like starting at the beginning, right? Hackney, I know, but I have to start somewhere. His parents were Frank and Gayle Pierce. I have never met them because they died before I was born. Makes it hard to meet a person, right? Ann Arbor is not too far from here. Grandpa took me there to see where my great-grandparents were buried. He knelt by the stones, and I stood and waited until he was finished. Then we went for ice cream. It was a nice day partly because it was just my grandfather and me and partly because my father was not there. That was when I was seven and before my grandfather had to stop driving.
My grandfather served in the Army from 1957 to 1961. Perhaps I will write about his time there. He has shared many stories about that time, and if I have to keep writing these ridiculous entries, then I will write about them. I have ten more minutes of writing, so I want to concentrate on one story. It is the earliest memory I have of my grandfather.
I was four years old, and my favorite toy was this Batman car that went everywhere with me. I think I must have rubbed the paint completely off that thing. My sister had been born the week before and there were people constantly coming over to look at her, which I never understood why. All she did was cry and suck on my mother. Big whoop. I did not like all those people tromping in and out of my house. Some were family, but that still bothered me. To make matters worse, my parents were paying more attention to the baby than me.
I walked into my parents’ room where my sister was staying and saw both my mother and father making fools of themselves over the bassinet. I did say that I was in the room, but either they did not hear me or they ignored me because neither of them turned around. I got angry and then threw the one thing I could-my Batman car. Now this was no Hot Wheels car. This toy had it all. It could fit a six inch action figure, fire missiles, and other inappropriate things a toy should not do for a four year old. The car sailed over my parents’ heads, hit the wall behind the bassinet, and then broke into several pieces, showering down on baby Pauline. She started to cry, but I did not notice that all that much. What I really noticed was my precious car was broken, and the person responsible had been me. My father whirled around, yelled and then scooped me up. The entire time he was carrying me, I was trying to squirm out of his grasp to go see how bad my car was. I was put in my room and then yelled at some more. I assumed it was the usual stuff about why did I do it and the baby could have been hurt, but I was not paying attention. Finally my father realized I was too hysterical to listen, or he tired of yelling because he left, shutting the door.
At four, I knew that I could not leave that room when I was in trouble or else I would be sent back longer. Normally it wouldn’t be an issue being placed in my room for a timeout, but that was when I had my Batman car. I must have screamed for what I thought was an hour when the door finally opened and my mother came in. She held what was left of my car in her hands. My precious car was in three pieces. The cockpit door had broken off, one of the wheels was off, and it was missing one of two fins on the back. Sitting next to me, she put her arm around me and told me that I needed to be patient with my new baby sister and my parents. She gave me a hug and told me I could come out of my room. Then she left. I picked up my broken Batmobile and started to cry again. Another person entered my room; it was my grandfather.
He asked if I was having a rough day. Like it was not obvious enough. Then he looked down at my broken car. He said that my Superman car was all broken. I did not bother to correct him. He took the pieces from me, gave me a hug, and then left. I followed him out to the living room where my grandmother, father, and mother, who was holding Pauline, were. I watched as my grandfather grabbed his coat and said he would be right back. Grandpa and Grandma Pierce lived like ten minutes away. Grandpa came back an hour later with my Batmobile. He had fixed it. The broken wheel was back on, along with the fin and cockpit. The car even rolled better than before it was broken. That was the first time I learned that my grandfather could fix anything.
School can be agony at times for most students. It is just a fact of life. No student enjoys every minute of the day at school. Those that say they do are just fooling themselves. For some students, just about every minute of school can be excruciating. So it was for Gavin Pierce. He was sitting in his resource class at St Clair Shores High School. It was the last class of the day for the seventeen year old young man, but it was also the longest.
He was sitting at a table by himself, trying to concentrate on his work at the moment. One could tell that he was succeeding in his concentration because there was very little writing on the algebra work. Had it been history work, Gavin would have sped through it, but it was Algebra II and intolerable. Occasionally, Gavin’s eyes would look up at the digital clock that was above Mr. Kubach’s desk, and then a look of disappointment would cloud over his face. Time not only came to a standstill in Kubach’s class, it seemed to go backward.
Mr. Kubach was a portly teacher who specialized in special education. He had been a teacher for 22 years and most of it in the Detroit area. The students knew all of this because he had told them on the first day, even if they had him the year before and the year before that. For Gavin, as teachers went, Mr. Kubach wasn’t that bad, but that was because he didn’t teach a particular subject. He managed some of the resource classes where the students with special needs were placed to help with homework and organization. The room wasn’t the size of a normal classroom at the high school and had tables instead of desks in it. Gavin was one of only a few students that had a table all to himself. It was how he preferred to work. Most of the other students in the room annoyed him. When someone sat down at his table, he would move to the furthest point away from that student. Most students had gotten the point and left him alone as much as space allowed.
Gavin looked down at his Algebra II again and then flipped his pen away. Frustration crossed his face as a black cat crossed a superstitious person’s path. He looked up at the time and was equally disappointed again.
“Algebra kicking your butt?” Mr. Kubach asked from behind and then put his ample weight into the empty chair next to Gavin.
“No, but I am not doing too well with it. Whoever thought of mixing numbers and letters should be dragged out into the street and beaten past an inch of his life,” Gavin said, not bothering to look over at the teacher. Mr. Kubach gave a chuckle and then peered at the problem that was stumping the young man. He pointed out some variables that Gavin had missed and soon the problem was solved. Without looking again, Gavin said, “Thanks. One down and nine to go.”
“They are pretty much the same. Just different letters,” Mr. Kubach said, standing up. “I’ll come back and see how you are doing.”
Gavin proceeded to the next one and then looked at the time. Five minutes had passed. There were still 20 to go. Does time pass any slower than when one is at school and the end is so close, but yet so far? Being Thursday, Gavin still had one more day to go before the blessed weekend, but that was for tomorrow. If he dwelled too much on the obstacles that the next day held, he would go crazy. For now, it was satisfactory for Gavin if the next twenty minutes would just pass without incident. The algebra problems were just that, problems. Concentrating on them was not going to pass the time. For Gavin the only thing that would pass the time would be to think about one of two things, his grandfather or boats. Since it was Thursday, it would have to be boats.
Lake Saint Clair is connected to Lake Huron by the Saint Clair River which allowed boats to access the great lake. St. Clair Shores had many docks and was a great access to the waterway. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Gavin would go down to the closest dock and watch the boats.
The boats varied in style, sometimes from moderate sized freighters to beautiful sailboats. It was the sailboats that Gavin paid close attention to. When there was a sailboat out on the lake, Gavin would watch it for quite some time. Being the second of June, there should be some sailboats out on the water.
School ended June 11, and that date couldn’t come any faster for Gavin. Some school districts were done with the school year by the end of May; that was a fact that Gavin would bring up many times with anyone that would listen. June 11 and freedom.
Gavin kept on pretending to work hard on his homework but not too hard. If it looked like he was concentrating too much, Kubach would think he needed help and be over again. Just the right balance was needed to keep the teacher from coming back.
Gavin looked up and saw that Kubach was helping Cindy Hessler, a portly girl that was also short. Gavin wasn’t short himself, but close to six feet tall, nor was he portly but just the opposite. He had been told that he actually needed to put on weight to get to his correct weight size. It wasn’t like he didn’t eat; it was just the fact that he couldn’t put on weight. His father told him that when he got older, his metabolism would slow down and the weight would catch up.
The bell finally rang, and Gavin shot up like a missile leaving a silo. Quickly gathering his belongings and barely hearing Kubach wish the class a good day, Gavin left the room in route to his locker. The halls of the high school quickly filled up creating an obstacle course for Gavin to maneuver around through. He mostly kept his head and eyes down, not wanting to look anyone in the face. They were less likely to acknowledge him by doing that.
His locker was on the other side of the building, and he was halfway there when a voice from behind him nearly stopped him in his tracks.
“Hey, looks like someone let the squirrel out of its tree!” The voice belonged to Jordan Offterberg. Jordan was in the same grade as Gavin and had gone to school with him since grade school. He had been annoying Gavin since then as well. Not every youth with a form of autism has a thorn in his or her side like Gavin had, but sadly, many did. There is a saying that kids can be cruel and when they sniff out someone different, they can be merciless. Some antagonizers mature over the years and some even feel bad about the torment they have caused, but not Jordan Offerberg. He determined back in first grade that he didn’t like Gavin and set out to make his life miserable. To Gavin’s credit, he had gotten used to the razzing and could ignore it. Ignoring the jerk was what he was trying to do now.
“Going to collect some nuts? Why? You’re already nuts!” Jordan yelled out and laughed his ridiculous donkey laugh. Gavin moved on and soon was out of Jordan’s torment range. Gavin knew it could have been worse with Jordan, but it still didn’t make it any less annoying. Gavin turned down another hall and heard no more from Offerberg. Had Gavin raised his head, he would have seen the various posters on the walls of the hall advertising clubs and other school events, but he kept his head down, missing it all.
“Gavin!” Another voice called out from behind. It was not Offerberg again because this voice was female. It seemed he was popular this afternoon. Gavin recognized the voice as belonging to Sophie Kline. He had known Sophie since middle school. She was a good head shorter than Gavin and had a slim frame. Her auburn hair was in a ponytail and when Gavin turned around, he saw her smiling at him. Gavin found her to be a pretty girl, and it seemed like she liked him with how she always seem to greet him in the hall. “How was your day?”
“It was a day,” Gavin answered and for a moment his eyes caught her blue eyes and then his immediately dropped to the floor. He stood there for a bit then seemed to remember something. “How was yours?”
“Government was tough today. Werner assigned some essays on the functions of the Senate that don’t make sense. Did you understand them?”
“Yeah, I was done with mine before the period was out.”
“Would you be able to help me?” Sophie asked. “Do you have time now, or do you have to get home? If you’re worried about missing the bus, I can drive you home.”
“I do not have to go home, but I do not have time,” Gavin told her without lifting his head. Then, since he felt it needed no explanation, he said, “It is Thursday.”
“Oh, maybe another time,” Sophie said, clearly sounding confused.
“Yeah, sure,” Gavin said and then kept walking in the direction he was originally heading. He heard Sophie call out goodbye, and Gavin raised a hand in response. If he kept getting interrupted, he was not going to make the bus in time. He would not be taking his normal bus, but the one that dropped off closest to the pier. That bus left at 3:40, which gave him five minutes.
Arriving at his locker without any more problems, Gavin took out his key to unlock his lock. Gavin’s locker did not have the typical combination lock because it gave him such a hard time. The key lock was much easier for him to get open. Gavin dumped his books and work into the locker where it landed on the pile already there, shut it, and then left for the bus. It was warm out so no jacket was needed, and he didn’t take his homework because he never did school work at home. Homework meant something different to Gavin.
Bus 56 was where it was supposed to be and some students were getting on it. Gavin hoped he wasn’t too late to get his usual seat. His usual seat was in front of the bus, away from the annoying kids that sat in the back. The front seats of the bus were usually open as it was when Gavin climbed aboard the bus.
“Must be Thursday,” said the driver, a plump African-American woman with a friendly demeanor when one didn’t rub her the wrong way. Gavin had never rubbed her the wrong way, so she had no issues with him. “Can’t believe your parents lets you go to the Nautical Mile by yourself.”
“They know I will be home by seven,” Gavin said as he climbed the steps. Carla laughed as the two of them had gone through this many times before. When Gavin first started this routine, he had to explain to Carla why he wanted to ride her bus and not his usual one. She had also asked if it wouldn’t be easier to get his driver’s license. Gavin had told her he wasn’t ready to drive. She thought that was funny, especially living in Detroit. He reminded her that he lived in St. Claire Shores, where yes it was a suburb of Detroit, but it wasn’t officially a part of it.
“Go take your seat, honey.” Gavin did just that. He sat in his seat and scooted over so he could see out the window and not have to talk with the people around him. He hoped that if someone did sit next to him that it would be Toby. Toby wasn’t his friend, he was just a kid that rode the same bus. What was great about Toby was the fact that he didn’t try any idle chit-chat with Gavin. Toby would sit down without even a howdy and not try to talk about aimless things. Some kids liked to yap on and on about pointless subjects. Gavin would then have to tell the kids that he didn’t care which would make them mad. There was none of that with Toby.
The bus started to fill and sure enough, it was Toby that sat next to Gavin. The seat sank down from the young man’s weight, but that was the only way Gavin even knew Toby had sat down next to him. Gavin had no idea what grade Toby was in or why he smelled like Pine Sol all the time; he never asked.
Once the bus was ready to leave, just about every seat was filled and the bus was loud. Carla bellowed to keep it down and the volume did drop a few decibels. The door closed and they were on their way. Gavin had gotten used to the bounciness of the bus a long time ago, and it was so familiar that it was like an old friend. Gavin didn’t take the bus in the mornings because his father drove him to school. No matter how bad a day Gavin had, the bounciness would let him know that he was heading home where he would have a few hours of peace before his dad got home himself.
The usual sights passed by, and Gavin knew exactly how far the Nautical Mile was from those landmarks. Once the bus got on Jefferson Avenue, it would stay on that street. Gavin’s destination was five miles to the south, and the bus would pass by another one of his favorites, St. Clair Shores Public Library. The library was located on the lake and even had slips for boats. Gavin would often go to the library as well. Traffic was about average on Jefferson, so it took about fifteen minutes to arrive at the stop. The stop was right by St. Clair Shores Park. Toby got up to let Gavin out, Carla said her usual goodbye and be careful, and then Gavin was out.
Anything that dealt with school was behind him for the day. What lay before him was the park and its two fountains. The fountains were currently working and water was spouting from them. There was a small pedestrian bridge that crossed the pond and led into the Nautical Mile itself.
The Nautical Mile was on Jefferson Avenue between Nine and 10 Mile roads. The area is home to 27 marinas that have over 2,000 boating slips, making it one of the biggest spots in the city to hold personal craft. Also on the Mile, were numerous restaurants, shops, and other entertainment venues.
Gavin knew all this information because once he adopted a place, he liked to look up as much information as he could. The library that he had passed earlier was very helpful, as well his family’s computer at home. Gavin liked to know the history of the places he lived in or went to. It would sometimes annoy his little sister when he talked about the history of a location.
A few years back, his parents took the three Pierce children to Disney World. Before going, Gavin spent time looking up the history of Disney World and knew so much that his father said Gavin probably knew the place better than Walt Disney himself. Gavin then told his father that since Disney World had opened in 1971 and the man himself had died in 1966, that he actually did know more about the place. His siblings were even less impressed whenever he would chime in with a bit of history about whatever park they were at in the resort. By the end of the trip, no one was listening to Gavin’s history lessons. That didn’t stop him from saying them though.
From the park, Gavin had a choice of where to go. Since he wanted to see the boats, he kept heading east to where some of the marinas were. From there he could see the boats in their slips and then continue walking until he got to the shore. He started passing slips which held boats of various types. His eyes passed over the typical fishing boats and would linger when he saw a sailboat. Many of them were sloops, or smaller sailboats. Their masts were tucked away, but he could still tell what type of rigging they used. Some had the Bermuda style, while others had the two-sail rig. He wouldn’t get to the slips that held the schooners until further down the marina because of the size needed to hold the much larger boat.
It took Gavin 20 minutes to get to the shore because he had stopped to look at some of the boats that were being prepared to take off. Most of the people on the boats ignored Gavin, but some would wave. He did return the waves because it was rude not to.
Gavin could hear the shore before he arrived at it. He could hear the water lapping against the rocks, and he found it soothing. He had been out to the shore when the wind was strong and the noise was much different and more violent with the waves crashing, almost as if they were trying to break the shoreline apart.
Looking out on the lake, Gavin saw plenty of boat traffic and quite a few sailboats. Many were of the smaller, sloop size, but there were a couple bigger ones. Three years ago, Gavin had seen a three-mast schooner with five tiers. It was a rare sight since most of those boats were used as passenger cruise ships. These ships was the type that explorers would have used when exploring the world. Gavin had even been lucky enough to go on it when it had docked. It had been part of a promotional program for the cruise line.
Gavin hadn’t seen a schooner like it since. The schooner had attracted a lot of attention, but Gavin still came even with all the people that had lined the shore and marinas to see the beautiful sight. He stayed mostly on the fringes in order avoid the crowd as best he could. He the schooner it right away on the horizon and couldn’t believe the size. As it neared, he still couldn’t believe how big it was. The ten main sails were white along with the ones in the front. Gavin’s eyes never left it until it made its final approach to dock.
There was a cool breeze off the lake that felt good against Gavin’s skin. He was wearing his usual tee-shirt and jeans. Once school ended, he would switch to his baggy, canvas shorts which were currently waiting for him in his closet. His shirt had an image of a sailboat on it. He would try and wear it at least once a week on one of his trips to the Mile. Gavin wished he could have brought his binoculars to see the boats on the lake better, but he didn’t want to bring them to school because they were expensive. He had saved up a long time for those Nikon eight by forty pair. There was plenty of time in the summer to bring them along for viewing.
Gavin lingered at the show for another half-hour or so and knew he would have to make his way back. The five thirty bus would be arriving and he needed to be on it. The bus ride would take about half an hour and he would arrive home a little after six. His dad would be getting home about then as well. His time on the Mile was done for now, but tomorrow was Friday. On Fridays he would visit his grandfather at the nursing home. That was Gavin’s second favorite thing to do.
