A “Becoming” excerpt in sequence:

        On The Road/Dirty words

     December 18, 1955: 12:15 PM

For the past half hour— from the time they’d loaded the last of their clothing and what wedding gifts they were taking and kissed and said goodbye to their families at the curb in front of the house in Skokie— Marsha had sat on the far side of the car saying practically nothing.

As he drove, glancing at her now and then, taking her quietness as a sign of sadness because she was leaving home. Respecting her silence and leaving Marsha to her own thoughts, Mitchell didn’t speak either.

Nearly nine hundred and forty miles from Skokie, Illinois to New York City, the trip would take them through the states of Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and into New York. Once out of Chicago they’d travel on a ‘super highway’ but would not pick a state turnpike until Ohio.

A cold day, the sky was murky-white but the wind was minimal and ‘thankfully’ there were no predictions of snow for this portion of the mid-west or eastern states.

Because it was mid-day on Sunday, traffic was light and they were quickly on Lake Shore Drive. Approaching the turn-off for Solidarity Drive— the road to the Adler Planetarium. “Hey, Marcie,” breaking the silence, “you want to stop for a while and fool around?”

“Huh?” Shaking her head. Realizing where they were, moving closer and putting her hand on his knee. “Sorry, baby, I kind of drifted.”

Draping his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t be sad. They said they’ll be out to visit and before you know it we’ll be coming back. And just wait till you see the apartment.”

“Are you ‘kidding’, Mitch? I’m ‘not’ at all sad because we’re leaving here! I’m so glad to be with you that I’d go ‘anyplace’!”

Glancing at her, “What’s the matter, then?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Hey...” insisting, “...what’s the matter?”

“Okay. My mother knew I had my period and of course she ‘had’ to tell your mother and knowing her, she ‘had’ to make a joke of it and now not only your dad knows and my dad knows, but your brothers know too and by the time the day’s over ‘everyone’ who calls to tell her they had a good time last night will know, and by tonight the whole world’ll know that I have my period and we didn’t… uh, sleep together! And that ‘stupid’ story she had to tell about the guy that couldn’t, uh…”

“Get a boner.”

“Yeah! Get a… what you said… on his wedding night. God! Why’s she always have to try to be so funny all the time?”

Surprised by her vehemence, “Marcie, she didn’t mean anything by it!” Coming to the defense of his mother. “And I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. I really don’t think she said anything ‘that’ terrible for you to be ‘this’ upset!”

Looking at him, “You ‘don’t’, eh?” she said angrily.

Matching her tone. “No, I ‘don’t’!”

****

For the past six weeks, since the evening of November fourth Marsha had kept her mother-in-law’s unreasonable fit of anger to herself. Actually afraid to tell ‘anyone’ of Myra’s blind anger for fear of some sort of retribution from her mother, or possibly Mitchell towards his mother that could escalate to the extent of the cancellation and total destruction of her wedding, and marriage…

Each time she’d seen Myra and each time she’d spoken to Myra, keeping the knot of anger that was sticking in her throat under tight control, pretending ambiance had become harder and harder.

****

“Mitchell, you’re married to ‘me’ now! Don’t you think it’s about time you started defending ‘me’, your wife?” Moving back to the far side, once again Marsha stared out the window and once again they drove in silence, until…

Knowing it was about time to end this.

“ ‘Holy smoke’! That was just about the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me!”

Turning her face from the window. Knowing it was about time to end this, too. But Marsha’s stubbornness not allowing her to say the first word. “What was?”

Tugging on her knee, urging her to move closer. “ ‘What was’? Jesus!” He laughed. “How’s about dropping about a million pennies back there! And we wanted to be inconspicuous.”

Passing the ‘State of Indiana’ sign…

‘Just about the funniest’?” Marsha smiled her first smile in almost two hours. “What could ‘possibly’ be funnier than that?”

Pinching the collar of her coat urging her to sit even closer. “Did I ever tell you about the time I blew up our kitchen?”

“No, I never heard that one… ‘Really’, you blew up your kitchen?”

“Yeah! Well, come to think about it, it’s only funny thinking about it now, because it sure as hell wasn’t too funny then!”

“Yeah, I’d guess not! How the ‘heck’d’ you blow up your kitchen?

“It was back on the west side. I was, oh, sixteen”—in retrospect, knowing it was a really stupid thing to do, he did not want to tell Marsha that he was just weeks away from his seventeenth birthday—“and this shvartzer kid, his name was Junior Johnson, gave me a bullet…”

****

… “To this day I still cannot understand how so little gun powder could make such a mess.”

“You’re lucky they’d bought the house in Skokie, I’d’a killed you. That ain’t so funny.”

“Yeah?” Thinking a moment.

“To look at me, Marcie, would you ever think that I’m probably the ‘only’ person in the whole world that’s ever, uh...”using one of her words, “...’pooped’ on a bird?”

“ ‘You’ pooped on a bird?” Laughing, “You’re right, I ‘don’t’ believe it.”

“It’s true !” Making the motions. “Cross my heart.”

“Cross your heart, huh? Crossing your heart don’t work on Jews and I still don’t believe it!”

“It’s true !”

“How’d’j’ya do it, then?”

Looking at her, smiling, “I’ll tell you when I get to know you better.” Knowing that he would be taking Marsha to Rockaway and to see the tower. “As a matter of fact, I’ll even show you where I did it.”

Considering, he thought he might tell her about the episode with Ina Dorfmann, but in order to tell that story he’d have to go into details that he was positive he didn’t know Marsha well enough to tell, either.

There was also the time he fell in the toilet in Hebrew School, but how to explain that?

“Well,” she said, “so far as I’m concerned, you still haven’t come up with anything funnier than the pennies.”

“How’s about you? Anything funny ever happen to you?”

Quiet... Thinking of the loneliness of her childhood, and her life due to her mother’s mental ostracism of her from the time she was an infant right up to the time she’d announced her engagement to Mitchell, “No,” she said after a long pause. “Nothing too funny has ever happened to me.”

Sensing a newfound sadness about her. “Oh, yeah!” he came up with, “There was this time I fell out of a basement window.”

“Mitchell, how could anyone fall out of a basement window?”

“Oh,” grinning at her, “it wasn’t easy.”

**** 

At five-ten, almost five hours into the journey, inside the state of Ohio they stopped at a Howard Johnson’s Restaurant.

Finished eating, they used the washrooms, replenished the Ford with gas and were back on the road within forty-five minutes.

Nearly six o’clock, on the road for about six hours, it was becoming dark. Pulling the knob that turned the headlights and dashboard lights on, glowing a cheery, radiant green, now was the first time they had see seen the dashboard lit.

Warmly comfortable, with her legs folded beneath her, snuggling even closer Marsha lay her head upon Mitchell’s shoulder.

Putting his hand onto her lap, she held it.

“You don’t ever swear, do you?”

“No, I guess not… Well, sometimes I do, when I get real mad.”

“Back at the hotel, when pennies were rolling all over the place, you did say ‘damn’ or ‘damned’.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, you did! I heard you. You said ‘damn’ or ‘damned’. But all those pennies had to be worth a ‘fuck’ or, at the very least, a ‘shit’. But only a ‘damn’?”

“I never swear.”

****

True! Marsha Goldman ‘never’ swore!

‘Never swearing’ being a part of Marsha’s deep rooted phobia of ‘never’ being like her mother! A code of moralistic ethics that the child developed when learning of and understanding her mother’s illicit ‘dalliances’ that she ‘knew’ had to hurt her beloved father.

At that young age, of course, Marsha had no name for ‘prostitution'  but did know that what her mother did was wrong.

So began Marsha Goldman’s abhorrence of ‘any’ known or imagined furtive activities undertaken by her mother, which — although in her public guise as a ‘lady’ Rhea did not use vile language — included swearing and ‘most especially’ Marsha’s moralistic code of physical conduct and contact allowed while with a member of the opposite sex, including her own emotive desires which were held in tight rein…. Until the time of her civil marriage.

****

“I never swear,”

“You even said to me: ‘fuck me’.”

“I did ‘not’!”

“That night, when we were in your bed before your mother went into the toiled and turned all the lights on. You did! You said, ‘fuck me’.”

Truly not remembering. “I would ‘never’ say such a thing!”

“Oh, yeah you did! I’ve heard you say much worse than that!”

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“Yesterday morning, in the car when I was driving you to the beauty shop you said ‘fucking’ and ‘fuckless’.”

“Mitchie...” said good-naturally “...you’re ‘such’ a liar!”

“No I’m not! Really, you did say…”

“I did not… Oh, yes,” Remembering. “You said it first and you made me really mad so it ‘doesn’t’ count.”

“Well, Marcy, that’s true , of course! No one ‘ever’ swears when they’re ‘really’ mad. What do you mean, it doesn’t count? Who says ‘fucking’ and ‘fuckless’ don’t count?”

“Me do! I says!”

Smiling at this exchange. “Come on,” he prompted, “say fuck.”

“No.”

“Okay, fuck’s kind of a hard word to learn on because it’s kind’a like the king of all swear words. What say we start with something easier. How’s ‘bout, uh, ‘shit’? Go on, say ‘shit’.”

“Mitchie, no!”

“Okay, shit’s kind of a, uh, shitty word to learn on. How’s ’bout ‘piss’?”

Trying to keep a straight face... “Uh-uh,” ...but couldn’t, and began to laugh.

“It’s not like I’m trying to get you to say a real high-powered word like ‘fuck’ anymore. ‘Piss’ is an easy word. Come on, Marcie, it’s real easy. Say ‘piisss’.”

“No,” she giggled. “I can’t.”

“Okay, then, how’s ’bout, uh, ‘pee’? Try to say ‘pee’.”

“ ‘Pea’.”

“That’s ‘not’ fair! I’ll bet you said ‘pea’, like in mashed potatoes and peas.”

“ ‘Pea’.”

“You said it like in ‘piss’?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said, ‘pea’, like in ‘pea’.”

“I don’t believe you. But I guess a pee’s a pee. Okay, but you sure I can’t get you to say ‘fuck’, or maybe, ‘piss’?”

“Nope!”

“Ok, then, what do you say when you get mad, ‘really’ mad?”

“When I’m ‘really’, ‘really’ mad?”

“Yup. When you’re ‘really’, ‘really’ mad!”

“ ‘Kockie, doodie, pea, pea’!”

“ ‘Kockie, doodie, pee, pee’?”

“Yup, that’s what I say, ‘kockie, doodie, pea, pea’.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see it now, I’m on the ship and some son-of-a-bitch… You wouldn’t consider, ‘son-of-a-bitch’, would you?”

“Nope!”

“I didn’t think so. Anyway, some son-of-a-bitch is giving me a hard time and I level off and call him a ‘kockie, doodie, pee, pee’. Yeah, I can just see me doing that!” Kissing her forehead, “I love you, you ‘kockie, doodie, pee, pee’.”

December 18, 1955: 8:15 PM

December 19, 1955:3:30 AM

Eight fifteen. Midway through the state of Ohio. Almost nine hours since leaving Skokie.

Stopping at another Howard Johnson’s.

Finished eating, both having used the washroom, as an attendant was filling the Ford’s gas tank...

“Think we’d better start looking for someplace to sleep?”

“Yeah, Marcie, I figured another hour or so. I’d like to get a little further up the road so we don’t have too far to go tomorrow in case it starts to snow.”

****

“Marcie, what’s wrong?”

About forty minutes since leaving Howard Johnson’s, her jaw once again locked in stony silence, Marsha was, once again, on the far side of the seat.

Putting his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not mad at me again, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“What’s the matter, then?”

“Mitchell, shhh, I’m concentrating.”

“ ‘Concentrating’?”

“Yeah.”

Other than lights from an occasional roadside business or a farmhouse, all that could be seen beyond the soft glow of the dashboard were the taillights of cars before them, the headlights of cars to the rear, or those approaching from the other side of the turnpike.

“Honey,” holding her shoulder, “what’s the matter?”

Whispering a word he couldn’t quite hear. “What?” Turning the radio down, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Gas.”

“Gas? No, we’re ‘fine’. We’ve still got almost a full tank.”

“No, Mitchie, I’ve…” Pressing her forehead against the window. Closing her eyes and tightening her jaw “Got gas.”

Taking a moment to register. “Oh, ‘that’ kind of gas! So, get rid of it!”

“Yeah, sure! How?”

As though it were the simplest solution in the world. Which in fact for Mitchell Lipensky it was— forgetting his embarrassment of last night, of course…

“ ‘Fart’.”

“ ‘Mitchell’!” Turning to him. “I can’t do that?”

“You can’t do what? ‘Fart’? Hell, Marcie! Just about everyone knows how to fart! Even me!” he said jokingly. “Remember last night?”

“Yeah...” grimacing “...I do! But I’ve ‘never’ done it…”

“No, ‘no’!” Interrupting. “I know that you’re a nice girl, Marcie. But I just ‘can’t’ believe that you’ve ‘never’ farted, even once!”

Not wanting to laugh. “As I was saying!” feigning anger. “I’ve never done... uh, what you said in front of ‘anyone’! And most ‘certainly’ not in front of a boy!”

“ ‘Boy’?” Mitchell’s turn to feign anger. “Marcie, I am ‘not’ a boy, I’m a ‘man’! And I’m your husband and ‘I’ give you permission to fart! Oh, by the way, you wanna try f-a-r-t?”

“Mitchell, ‘no’!” Laughing, even as she bit her lip against the urge. “I don’t need your permission to do ‘anything’, but I just can’t do ‘that’ in front of you. It’s too embarrassing.”

“You’d rather be in pain, then?”

“No, of ‘course’ not!”

“Then go ahead, do it!”

“You guys think girls are like you and that we can do all the disgusting things you do!”

“Like you told me last night, it’s a natural body function. And besides, if God didn’t want us to fart, he probably wouldn’t have given us assholes… How’s about…”

“ ‘Forget it’! I won’t say that either!”

“And you’re the one that keeps telling me how much girls are like guys.”

“Well, yeah, we are, in ‘some’ ways.”

“The go ahead, I ‘dare’ you… ‘fart’!”

“But not in ‘that’ way! No, I can’t, I just can’t!”

“Okay, honey, I’ll stop at the next…” chuckling, “gas station.”

****

While Marsha was in ‘WOMEN’, he used ‘MEN’.

Because they were at a Howard Johnson’s again, and so long as he was thinking of doing it and not telling her, they sat at the counter where she had a doughnut and a cup of hot chocolate and he two doughnuts and two cups of black coffee.

Before leaving the oasis, the gas tank was once again, topped off.

****

“Mitch, we going to find a motel soon?”

“Yeah, baby, soon.”

**** 

“For Eddi and Mick in ‘Cleveland Heights’, here’s ‘Tennessee Ernie’ and ‘Sixteen Tons’.”

The radio droning on: “For Maxine and Miles in ‘Painesville’, here is ‘The Shifting, Whispering Sands’.”

…“For Shawn, Brian and Alyssa in beautiful ‘Ashtabula, Ohio’…”

Asleep, Marsha’s head lay upon Mitchell’s shoulder.

“For Steve, Karen and all you kids in good old’ Erie, P.A.’, it’s ‘The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane’!”

Running parallel to an east bound train for the time it took for the train to pass. Remembering the lonely train ride through Pennsylvania and New York state on his way to Cape May almost three years ago.

Thank you! he thought. Glancing at Marsha’s serene face, Thank you, God! Thank you!

…“For Lonnie and Pat!”

…“For Ida and Jim!”

Lifting her head and opening her eyes Marsha muttered, “Where are we?” Without waiting for an answer, snuggling lower on the seat and putting her head onto Mitchell’s thigh, she eyes closed again.

…“For Carter, Herb and Dave, and all the gang at the ‘Westlake Inn’ in downtown ‘Altoona’, here’s one from the smash play ‘Damn Yankees’.”

“Whatever Lola wants...” Mitchell sang along softly, “...Lola gets.”

… “Snow this morning throughout ‘New Jersey’, ‘New York’, and well into ‘Maine’ and ‘Connecticut’.”

Reaching over the rear of the seat. Taking a blanket off the back seat he covered Marsha.

…“For Donnie, ‘Harry Belafonte’!”

…“For Bonnie, ‘Johnny Mathis’!”

Readjusting her body. In her sleep Marsha unknowingly emitted a short, fluttering sally of stomach gas.

Glancing at her. Putting his hand on her hip he smiled.

“For Laverne, Joanie and Reed, and all you late birds in ‘Teaneck, New Jersey’, here’s ‘Mitch Miller’ and ‘The Yellow Rose of Texas’!”

Snow began to fall.

“Your request is our demand, so, for Maynard, Luke and Judy in ‘Younkers’, though long gone, here is ‘Autumn Leaves’.”

The Ford crossed the ‘George Washington Bridge’, and soon the…

“For Leni, Laurette and Larry, and all you early birds in ‘Brooklyn’… ‘Hearts of Stone’!”

…’Henry Hudson Parkway’.

About ten minutes from entering the ‘Brooklyn Battery Tunnel’, “Marcie… ‘Marcie’, baby.”

Still on her side curled in a ball, Marsha still slept with her head resting on the outside of his thigh. “Honey,” shaking her shoulder.

Taking the blanket along. Sitting up and yawning she opened her eyes.

The wipers clicking wetly back and forth, there were two heavily beaded semicircles of slushy snow on the windshield.

“Snow? Mitchie, it’s ‘snowing’!”

Glancing at her, smiling, “No kidding!”

Looking at the clock in the dashboard. “ ‘Three-thirty’! Mitchell, I can’t believe I slept this long!” Calculating the time since leaving Skokie. “My, God, you’ve been driving for seventeen hours!”

“Not really. Considering the time difference between Chicago and New York, it’s only sixteen hours.”

‘New York’ not registering on her. “You’ve ‘got’ to be exhausted! Don’t you think it’s about time we find someplace to sleep!”

Beyond exhaustion: Between the wedding yesterday—actually now the day before yesterday—and the hours on the road yesterday and last night, he’d driven in a wide-eyed daze for the past three hours reviving and getting a second wind only as he outran the late night signal from the Pennsylvania station and picked up the early morning signal from New York City.

Now running on the last dredges of reserve energy — pumping him up, the adrenaline of his anticipation of Marsha’s reaction to the apartment making him all but hyperactive,.

“Yeah, baby, we are going to stop...In about a half-hour…. Look out your window.”

Rubbing the condensation on the window with her sleeve…

“My ‘God’, Mitchell!” Shaking her head in disbelief. Cranking the window down to see past the inner moisture and outer slush— cold air immediately filling the car’s interior. “I can’t believe it! That’s…”

Off in the distance, midway across the channel but perfectly visible, even in the falling snow…

The ‘lady’ is there! Floodlights shining from the base up and her crown down. In the distance the lady appeared to glow an almost eerie green.

“… ‘The Statue of Liberty’! Oh, my God, Mitchell, she’s beautiful! I ‘can’t’ believe it!” Her head turning to the right, continuing to look as they drove on.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to drive all night? You ‘should’ have woken me! At least I could have kept you company.” Quiet a moment, then, “We’ll be home soon, won’t we?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, Marcie, ‘we’ll be home soon’.”

“God, Mitchie… home, ‘our home’.”

Though the simplest of statements, it filled both their hearts….

‘Our home’.

 Next “Becoming” Excerpt in sequence: “Day Two: Seagate”