Note: The 1967 NFL Championship game between the Green Bay Packers and
Dallas Cowboys is known as 'The Ice Bowl'. It was played at Green Bay's
Lambeau Field on December 31, the temperature at game time registered a
frigid 13 degrees below zero.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kissing Jordan was just this side of heaven but the warning flags were up in my head. I reluctantly pulled away.
"Wow....yes....No, Jordan, I was only kidding around. I mean...ohhh...shoot, my folks are only fifty feet away."
It was a lame excuse and I knew she knew it too. But kissing Jordan was just too dangerous; especially now, when Boston and reality were a thousand miles away. I quickly set her aside and stood up. I held out a hand to help her stand. It took her a few seconds to take it.
"Jordan I..."
She held her hand up. I could almost see the relief in her face. It kind of hurt.
"You don't need to say it... you're right. So, is the boat ready to go? I can't wait. The weather said the water should be pretty smooth early in the day. I haven't been out on the water, in well, forever. Are we getting an early start?
Her words were rapid fire. All I could do was nod.
"Great! Good night Woody. I'll see you in the morning."
She turned and walked down the stepping stones that marked the way to the house completely unaware of the fact my heart was still racing. I stood there watching her. I had to smile as she reached out to catch a lighting bug as it flew across her path. There's an old mason jar out here somewhere....She let it go and walked inside. I was thankful that I still had to lock up the shop before I could go in. I needed the time to let my blood cool down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Jordan~
Dumb, dumb, dumb. The words echoed in my head to each step I took up the stairs. That wasn't going to happen again. It had to be the domestic beer.......
I opened the door to the guestroom. The hallway light reflected on the hundreds of glass eyes in the room. I fought a chill as it went up my spine. I fumbled to turn on the dresser light. Once the room was lit I didn't know which sight was worse.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. I bounced up and down a few times and then laid back. Even with all its pomp and circumstance the bed was quite comfortable. I let my mind drift back over the last few hours. If it were anybody but Hoyt, I would have told that woman to stuff it. I came close as it was.
I wanted to know what made Woody who he is. I needed to be more careful for what I wished for.
Her words were perfectly hospitable and her mid west manners impeccable, but Marianne Hoyt's Microsoft screensaver blue eyes were as cold as 'The Ice Bowl'. It was abundantly obvious to me that she was less than thrilled I was there.
After she gave up trying to get me to talk about my past, she made it a point to fill me in on all the opportunities Woody has missed by moving to Boston. I was never more relieved than when the last dish was placed back into the cupboard. I escaped out of the house as quickly as I could.
I stopped on the way to the garage and took a seat on the porch glider set up looking over the backyard. The squeak of the metal rails reminded me of one that was on Kim's porch. As kids we would spend hours watching the world go way. Sometimes even dreaming about a big green backyard; just like this. The grass seemed to go on for miles but in probability it couldn't have been more than an acre. Close enough to farm standards for someone who grew up in the inner-city.
The lawn sparkled with the flashes of lighting bugs meandering in the early evening mist. I have always loved the sights and sounds of the city at night, but nothing could beat the smell of a small town. I wondered if, as kids, Woody and Cal would spend a summer evening like this, with a mayonnaise jar, chasing fireflies....
"Dad really needs to grease that thing." Cal's deep voice said.
I smiled up at him. I moved over so he could sit down.
"This is nice. You guys were lucky to grow up with such a great yard."
"Lucky my ass,Dad didn't buy a riding lawnmower until last year. Are you all set up in 'Dollywood West'?"
I knew he was referring to the guestroom. I nodded politely.
"Don't worry it gets less creepy after you get use to it. How was dinner?"
"Delicious. Your mother is a good cook."
"Did she find out what shoe size you wear?"
I remembered our talk in the kitchen. "I thought Woody honed his interrogation skills through his time as a police officer."
"Nope. Unfortunately, it's in the genes. She didn't get too ugly did she?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle...I get a feeling she is not too happy with him.
"Oh, they get along great...now that Woody is living out of state." The tone of his voice changed. "We all have our crosses to bear Jordan and Woody's just happens to be Mom."
"You sound like you have a few of your own."
"Sweetheart, I've lost count through the years."
In the dim light I watched Cal stare out into the field. I instinctively knew he wasn't watching the mist raise. I've had that look on my face one to many times in my life not to see it for what it was. In a flash he was back. That innate Calvin Hoyt smile crossed his face.
"Let's go in the shop. We can raid Dad's fridge."
"If you're waiting for the bathroom I think my folks have already turned in."
I was startled by Woody's voice.
"I must have dosed off this bed is comfortable...."
Woody looked through the door of the room with an air of doubt. "I've never even had the guts to walk in there."
I noticed he was standing just outside the door....just like he did earlier.
"My, my Detective Hoyt, you have faced down just about everything a big city homicide division can throw at you and you are afraid of a few china dolls."
I watched in amusement when he couldn't hide the chill that went through his body.
"Have you ever watched 'Chuckie' Jordan?"
"Thanks for reminding me. Now I have to sleep here...." I feigned a look of terror.
"No, no you sleep next door. I'll..." He took one more look at the room. "I'll sleep on the couch down stairs."
He reached his hand out to grab my suitcase. Laughing, I stopped him. It was so easy to yank his chains.
"Just go. I'm fine...really."
"You sure?" He said not fully convinced.
I picked up a pillow from the bed and threw it at him. It landed in the hallway. I shut the door behind it. I didn't think I would miss one of the multitudes of pillows on the bed for one night.
"Good night farm boy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kissing Jordan was just this side of heaven but the warning flags were up in my head. I reluctantly pulled away.
"Wow....yes....No, Jordan, I was only kidding around. I mean...ohhh...shoot, my folks are only fifty feet away."
It was a lame excuse and I knew she knew it too. But kissing Jordan was just too dangerous; especially now, when Boston and reality were a thousand miles away. I quickly set her aside and stood up. I held out a hand to help her stand. It took her a few seconds to take it.
"Jordan I..."
She held her hand up. I could almost see the relief in her face. It kind of hurt.
"You don't need to say it... you're right. So, is the boat ready to go? I can't wait. The weather said the water should be pretty smooth early in the day. I haven't been out on the water, in well, forever. Are we getting an early start?
Her words were rapid fire. All I could do was nod.
"Great! Good night Woody. I'll see you in the morning."
She turned and walked down the stepping stones that marked the way to the house completely unaware of the fact my heart was still racing. I stood there watching her. I had to smile as she reached out to catch a lighting bug as it flew across her path. There's an old mason jar out here somewhere....She let it go and walked inside. I was thankful that I still had to lock up the shop before I could go in. I needed the time to let my blood cool down.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Jordan~
Dumb, dumb, dumb. The words echoed in my head to each step I took up the stairs. That wasn't going to happen again. It had to be the domestic beer.......
I opened the door to the guestroom. The hallway light reflected on the hundreds of glass eyes in the room. I fought a chill as it went up my spine. I fumbled to turn on the dresser light. Once the room was lit I didn't know which sight was worse.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. I bounced up and down a few times and then laid back. Even with all its pomp and circumstance the bed was quite comfortable. I let my mind drift back over the last few hours. If it were anybody but Hoyt, I would have told that woman to stuff it. I came close as it was.
I wanted to know what made Woody who he is. I needed to be more careful for what I wished for.
Her words were perfectly hospitable and her mid west manners impeccable, but Marianne Hoyt's Microsoft screensaver blue eyes were as cold as 'The Ice Bowl'. It was abundantly obvious to me that she was less than thrilled I was there.
After she gave up trying to get me to talk about my past, she made it a point to fill me in on all the opportunities Woody has missed by moving to Boston. I was never more relieved than when the last dish was placed back into the cupboard. I escaped out of the house as quickly as I could.
I stopped on the way to the garage and took a seat on the porch glider set up looking over the backyard. The squeak of the metal rails reminded me of one that was on Kim's porch. As kids we would spend hours watching the world go way. Sometimes even dreaming about a big green backyard; just like this. The grass seemed to go on for miles but in probability it couldn't have been more than an acre. Close enough to farm standards for someone who grew up in the inner-city.
The lawn sparkled with the flashes of lighting bugs meandering in the early evening mist. I have always loved the sights and sounds of the city at night, but nothing could beat the smell of a small town. I wondered if, as kids, Woody and Cal would spend a summer evening like this, with a mayonnaise jar, chasing fireflies....
"Dad really needs to grease that thing." Cal's deep voice said.
I smiled up at him. I moved over so he could sit down.
"This is nice. You guys were lucky to grow up with such a great yard."
"Lucky my ass,Dad didn't buy a riding lawnmower until last year. Are you all set up in 'Dollywood West'?"
I knew he was referring to the guestroom. I nodded politely.
"Don't worry it gets less creepy after you get use to it. How was dinner?"
"Delicious. Your mother is a good cook."
"Did she find out what shoe size you wear?"
I remembered our talk in the kitchen. "I thought Woody honed his interrogation skills through his time as a police officer."
"Nope. Unfortunately, it's in the genes. She didn't get too ugly did she?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle...I get a feeling she is not too happy with him.
"Oh, they get along great...now that Woody is living out of state." The tone of his voice changed. "We all have our crosses to bear Jordan and Woody's just happens to be Mom."
"You sound like you have a few of your own."
"Sweetheart, I've lost count through the years."
In the dim light I watched Cal stare out into the field. I instinctively knew he wasn't watching the mist raise. I've had that look on my face one to many times in my life not to see it for what it was. In a flash he was back. That innate Calvin Hoyt smile crossed his face.
"Let's go in the shop. We can raid Dad's fridge."
"If you're waiting for the bathroom I think my folks have already turned in."
I was startled by Woody's voice.
"I must have dosed off this bed is comfortable...."
Woody looked through the door of the room with an air of doubt. "I've never even had the guts to walk in there."
I noticed he was standing just outside the door....just like he did earlier.
"My, my Detective Hoyt, you have faced down just about everything a big city homicide division can throw at you and you are afraid of a few china dolls."
I watched in amusement when he couldn't hide the chill that went through his body.
"Have you ever watched 'Chuckie' Jordan?"
"Thanks for reminding me. Now I have to sleep here...." I feigned a look of terror.
"No, no you sleep next door. I'll..." He took one more look at the room. "I'll sleep on the couch down stairs."
He reached his hand out to grab my suitcase. Laughing, I stopped him. It was so easy to yank his chains.
"Just go. I'm fine...really."
"You sure?" He said not fully convinced.
I picked up a pillow from the bed and threw it at him. It landed in the hallway. I shut the door behind it. I didn't think I would miss one of the multitudes of pillows on the bed for one night.
"Good night farm boy."
