chapter 5
The summer of 1988 was remarkable for Mack. Lights were installed at Wrigley Field home of his beloved Cubs. August 8th was the first scheduled night game to take advantage of the alliterative 8/8/88. So Cub-like. As fate would have it, the The summer of 1988 brought numerous changes in Mack’s life. Lights were installed at Wrigley first night game was rained out, so the history books will forever list 8/9/88 as the first night baseball game at Wrigley Field. Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails burst on the music scene, and Kathryn Campbell came back from New York.
The two lovers spoke passionately daily, imagining the time when they would be together without the eastern half of the United States separating them. Henry was nearly three years old when Kathryn made the difficult decision to return to Illinois. Her heart wrenched, imagining her dream of cosmopolitan life forever being banished to the back burner of life. She felt at home in New York, she had since the day she landed there, but knew her love for Mack would overcome the dream she had nurtured for five years. She rationalized that she may one day return with him, he had spoken of the ability to transfer as a post office employee, but she also sensed from their conversations he felt entrenched in Rockford, a little unwilling to pick up roots for the life she had embraced. She was still somewhat old-fashioned in the sense that women were expected to follow their love to whatever ends of the earth would be necessary to follow her love. She certainly didn’t agree, but it was difficult to fly in the face of tradition and cultural truths. She would learn soon enough however, that convention didn’t always matter to Mack, something she hadn’t really felt from him up to this point in their relationship. Realistically, they had only had a couple of days in the city, and a little over a year of exchanging phone calls and letters. There didn’t seem to be anything all that realistic about their love though, it was an entity unto itself, taking flight and transcending any earthly realization. So the lack of physical togetherness seemed only a minor speed bump in the life and love of Mack and Kathryn.
She had to also consider Skippy, Skip, whatever the hell he wanted to be called. He was, however, Henrys father. Kathryns moral compass told her she must give him a chance to be the childs father. To take on an active role in his life, though she quietly hoped he would fade away into his drug duced stupor. She had little contact with him during the span of Henrys short, glorious life. She was never happier than with Henry, and Mack had been more of a father over the phone, cooing and teaching when they talked, than Skippy had ever tried to be. An occasional card or slurred phone call was the extent of the contact he had with Henry, but Kathryn would give him every opportunity to be an involved dad. That was the price she must pay for her dalliance.
Kathryn had become quite an accomplished abstract artist while in New York. Painting was an emotional outlet, tapping into music to inspire her, and the names of her work often bore song titles. She put on an album, Led Zeppelin was a favorite, and the blank canvas took on the look of sheet music for her. She exclusively used a pallet knife, and did her best work when naked in her apartment. Removing her binding clothing and undergarments gave her feeling of unfettered freedom to create. She knew she was sexy, and that awareness came through with every stroke of the knife. She imagined she might be a performance artist, painting naked on a stage in front of an audience, though she never thought of herself as an exhibitionist. The freedom one gains sans clothes listening to Zeppelins “Rain” wasn’t what she considered to be sexual. Simply artistic.
In her younger years, probably as a form of escape from the sins ravaged upon her, Kathryn fancied herself an entrepreneur. She had long envisioned owning a card shop, a restaurant or art store. As she prepared to leave New York for Rockford, realizing she didn’t have many employable skills other than her creativity, she considered opening a coffee shop/art store in Rockford. She had some money saved, and would be able to find a vacant storefront somewhere in town to open. She had no interest in having a building built, and it would be more cost-effective to look into one of the vacancies available. Rockford had taken an economic bath as the manufacturing sector virtually shut down in the 70s. Kathryn had a pragmatic side to go along with her ethereal nature, and knew that opening any business was risky, but chasing dreams at her emotional and spiritual core.
The Black and Darker, the coffee shop down the street from her apartment in Brooklyn wasn’t for sale, but Kathryn had an idea she thought the owner Lisa Gent might listen to. Lisa was a tall woman with a stern way, but Kathryn felt a kinship with her in spite of their apparent differences. Kathryn approached her with the idea of purchasing the name “Black and Darker” from Lisa, and using that as the name of her new venture in Rockford. After listening to the idea, Lisa agreed. She sold the name to Kathryn for a relative pittance, and decided to reopen as something cheesy, like Central Perk. So in August of 1988, Kathryn Campbell didn’t own a shop, but she had a name, and after a couple of months tying up loose ends, and saying goodbye to the friends she had made in New York City, she and Henry returned to Rockford, Illinois on October 1st of 1988, the day before Macks 29th birthday.
Mack had just observed the 9th anniversary of the beginning of his career as a mail carrier. It had taken some time, but he felt a part of the fabric of the post office community. He was on his 3rd regular route, and enjoyed the camaraderie with customers and workers. He worked at the downtown station which at one time had been the Main Post Office in Rockford, until the new, tomblike facility was built in the early 70s. It was a familial atmosphere at the station with many get-togethers. Some were as casual as an after work cocktail at a nearby bar, and some as formal as Christmas parties typically organized by the women employees at a local restaurant. Usually Marias, which is locally legendary for the steak and pasta they serve. The previous year had been exciting, even thrilling for Mack as he pondered the future with Kathryn and Henry. Kathryn was coming home tomorrow, and his exuberance was palpable, to the point of affecting his work performance. As he cased his route in the morning of September 30th, he considered the future, near and also more distant. He would pick Kathryn up from O’Hare tomorrow, the 1st, his birthday was the 2nd, and Mack was never shy about throwing his own birthday bash if no one else saw fit to do so. He had talked with Kathryn about the possibility of transferring within the service to New York, and though he never dismissed it out of hand, the winters were beginning to wear thin on him. Macks train of thought was now geared more toward the ease with which he could do his job. He hadn’t given a lot of thought to a change of scenery to accommodate his love life. It didn’t seem much of a step up weather wise from Northern Illinois to New York City, though the transfer would be easy, there were a lot of job openings in the city.
October 1, 1988 was a glorious, sunny Saturday. Filled with life, love and energy, Mack left his apartment in hip Haight Village for the trip to O’Hare to pick up the love of his life, Kathryn Campbell. The ninety minute drive afforded him a bit of time to reflect, as well as ponder what the future might bring. As sure as he was about the passion, the love, the chemistry between he and Kathryn, they hadn’t spoken of living arrangements upon her arrival home, and Mack wasn’t certain what her living plans were. He had plenty of room for Kathryn and Henry at his well- appointed loft. So well-appointed in fact, that friends who didn’t know him well thought he might be gay, what with the attention to detail and decoration of his apartment. The two, in one of their hundred conversations over the last year, had barely broached the subject of living together. Kathryn would certainly like the location of the building; it was only two blocks walk to Kishwaukee Street and shopping, restaurants and a drug store. Mack painstakingly considered every factor he thought of relevant to Kathryn and Henry. Mack himself was easy to live with, flexible, willing to accommodate even the most uncompromising demand to place paintings, move furniture, etc. He was not all that sure, however, how she would take to occasional sloppiness, wet towels slung over the shower curtain rod, television preset channels set exclusively to his own entertainment preferences. These thoughts left Mack with an unfamiliar anxious ache in his stomach. By the time he reached Terminal 1 at O’Hare International Airport to meet Kathryn’s 10:20 am flight, Mack had worked himself into a sweat.
Henry was the highlight of the show on the flight to Chicago from New York. Fawned over by stewardesses and the crew of the airplane, he had joyfully exclaimed wheeeeee! as the 727 released the brake on the runway and began the crescendo of speed to the 160 MPH required for takeoff. Henry clearly had a need for speed. As the plane leveled off at 15,000 feet, the co-pilot sought Henry out to give he and Kathryn a tour of the cockpit. Kathryn was rather astonished at the compact nature of myriad instruments adorning the front, side and ceiling of the flight deck. Enthralled, Henry sat in the co-pilot seat and grabbed hold of the joystick which had by then been locked in place with the auto-pilot engaged. Kathryn happily thanked the crew as she and Henry were escorted back to their seats in the coach cabin. The din of the engines made conversation difficult, and the stale, dry air was cool, but uncomfortably stinging. Pilot Ferguson bestowed a set of toy pilots’ wings on to Henry’s red plaid shirt and returned to the cabin. Henry squealed that he could fly the plane now. He then settled back in his seat with headphones plugged into the pilot-controller frequency that was available at no charge to passengers. He was in his 2 year old glory, deftly maneuvering his imaginary aircraft through the friendly skies.
All the attention paid to Henry distracted Kathryn from the length of the trip, and as Henry followed the controller orders to descend to 180, she realized it was only 20 minutes until the plane landed at Chicago O’Hare International Airport. Mack was to meet them for the trip by car back to Rockford, a thought that at once excited and revolted her. Looking forward to finally having a normal, personal relationship with Mack, as opposed to long-distance longing over the phone, was what she had decided she wanted. He was the man she imagined he would be, and couldn’t think of a single reason she shouldn’t devote herself to him and their love. Rockford, however, was also the backdrop of many childhood horrors, many of which remained unearthed consciously, too painful and emotionally dangerous to confront.
Kathryn hadn’t divulged her purchase of the Black and Darker name or her plan to open a shop when back in Rockford. She had talked with Mack about her fantasy of opening a shop of some kind, but only in the context of the many dreams she had regarding the future. He had suggested perhaps applying at the Post Office; he had had a solid career up to that point, though if she were hired, it would be under a different and far inferior retirement plan to Mack’s Civil Service Retirement Plan. Her sister Katia had recently started as a carrier, but the work seemed rather mundane and unimaginative, obviously not a career that suited Kathryn’s ethereal aura. Mack had begun getting active in the Carrier Union (NALC) as a union steward, so he might be able to help her negotiate a couple of the hoops necessary to work there, but for now, she was satisfied with the plan she had in place. She knew Mack was great at being flexible; they had both managed to conduct a rather intense personal relationship over the phone and via U.S. Mail for the last year, testament to each ones patience, tolerance and persistence.
By the time all these thoughts had run the marathon through her mind, Kathryn and Henry, along with the other 76 passengers of flight 191 from New York Kennedy Airport to Chicago O’Hare International Airport, landed and began taxiing to the accordion like exit tunnel into the gate area in Terminal 1.
Mack stood halfway back from the jet way door as the passengers exited single file into gate A27. He stood tiptoed looking over the top of some 6’5″ guy in front of him who seemed to be swaying back and forth in identical rhythm to Mack, as if he were playing a game with him. Mack, solidly 6’3″, still had difficulty seeing over the top, until a moment later, he swore he saw an angelic glow engulf the exit and heard birds singing hallelujah as Kathryn emerged, Henry by her side. Their eyes met, and they ran to each other like the crazy television commercials where you see two lovers hurrying toward each other on the beach, hair blown back in the flowing breeze. They embraced with a passion neither had felt before, and parents directed their children’s curious gaze away from the spectacle. The kiss they shared let them both know one would always be there for the other. Kathryn, Malachi, and Henry traversed the length of A concourse at O’Hare International Airport seemingly on air, Kathryn and Henry each holding one of Mack’s hands. Their family was together.