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Let Us Pray
“Anita as Rosalind” by ALPA PROD, ID2228554311 licensed from Shutterstock.com
February 19, 1973: Love
I THOUGHT I was a pretty worldly guy. I thought I had things pretty well figured out in life. I had a business in Chicago and one in Ontario. I’d been traveling all over the world as part of my job and had a few different lovers. Of course, none of them compared to the three wonderful women who shared my home and my bed. We are a family.
Ronda and I have been together since February of 1967—six years! We had shared a girlfriend in high school, but when Chris graduated, she left us both. Ronda stayed with me and has never left my side. Oh, we’ve been apart, but Ronda is committed. She transferred from Boston University to the University of Chicago her sophomore year to live with me while she did her undergraduate work in International Relations. She probably could have gotten a much better job than being my coordinator, but she wanted to stay with me. I love her to the moon and back. She’s a rock and has seen me through a ton of shit.
Anna was my very first girlfriend when I moved to Tenbrook in 1966. My mom had become the Methodist minister there and we moved out of South Chicago so she could start work. Talk about culture shock. Tenbrook had about one percent the population that South Chicago had. But the very first day of school, I sat next to this incredibly cute girl in speech class and asked her out on a date. We were together for a few months, but she got scared of how fast we were moving—we hadn’t even kissed yet—and broke up with me. We kept working together on the school yearbook, though. By summer, she had officially become my accountant and bookkeeper. And by the next summer, we were lovers. She has more business sense than anyone I’ve ever met. And she manages the family just as efficiently.
Then there’s dear sweet Patricia. When I first met her in Tenbrook, she was riding the back of a motorcycle behind Tony, the leader of the local ‘biker gang.’ He had a tough reputation, but through one thing and another, we became best friends. One of those things was Patricia. She got me to take pictures of her pretending she was a Playboy bunny for her boyfriend. He loved them and kept sending her back for more pictures. When he was drafted, my mom married them. Patricia continued to come into my little studio every week to get new pictures to send to Tony. And sometimes to cry because she was so lost without him.
After Tony was killed in Vietnam, she spent even more time with Ronda, Anna, Chris, and me. When she found out she was pregnant, she sought comfort in my arms and we became lovers. I would do anything to protect her and our little girl Toni. Toni has called me Daddy for years and that’s what I am to her. We always remind her that her father is buried in Tenbrook and was a very brave man who saved my brother-in-law’s life. But I’m still Daddy.
The important thing is that we are a family. I mean Patricia, Ronda, Anna, Toni, and me. We live together. We bought a house in Ontario, just in case I needed to run from being drafted. It included an antique store and my Canadian studio.
But I never knew the instant bonding, the complete and unconditional love, that overwhelmed me when the nurse put my own little girl in my arms for the first time. I cried as I held her and took her to her mother. Then we both cried.
I believe we have a soul. I never really found evidence of it in the Bible. And no sermon ever convinced me. No. I believe I have a soul because I felt it leave my body and wrap itself around my baby daughter that day. I was more firmly attached to her than to any human being on earth. Even when I was in a different room, or in my studio, I could close my eyes and feel my daughter in my arms. To protect. To nurture. To Love.
As usual, I’ve tossed you into the middle of things without explaining how I got to this point. There were some pretty tense and emotional times involved and I’m thankful to be here.
May 18, 1972: When it all began
Nate Hart:
Congratulations on your graduation from college. Your selective service records have been returned to your local board and we have granted your request to be re-assigned to status I-O, a conscientious objector, not eligible for military service of any kind.
As all conscientious objectors are required to serve 24 months of alternative service, you are hereby directed to report to the Induction Center at 615 West Van Buren, Chicago, IL on September 1, 1972 by 3:00 p.m. to take your oath and begin your service. You will be instructed as to where you will serve upon arrival.
Have a good summer,
J. Henry Osgood
Chairman of the Hunter County Selective Service Board.
I tossed the letter on the table and sat with my head in my hands. My girlfriends quickly snatched it up and read what it had to say.
“They can’t do that!” Patricia screamed. Toni came running from the playroom to see what was wrong with her mother. Patricia scooped the three-year-old up in her arms. “It’s okay, honey,” Patricia said softly. “Mommy just got a scare. I was surprised.”
Toni petted Patricia’s face.
“Don’t scare Mommy!” she said, glaring at the rest of us.
“As I was saying, in a more controlled tone,” Patricia continued, “I checked with Miss Ludwig, who is still tracking all the call-ups from Hunter County. They filled their quota from your year at lottery number 187. You are 233. Send this to Mr. Graves and have him appeal it. You know they’re just baiting you.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “I’ve already agreed to go to work for the government. I don’t know what else they want. I need to think about this. There’s a reason they’ve decided to send me this letter and then give me three months to think about it. I’m sure they don’t intend to draft me. I really need to think about this before I do anything. They’ve given me plenty of time. I need to think.”
Repeating it so often was making it obvious that I wasn’t thinking. Ronda and Anna both gave me a hug and Anna went to finish packing. Patricia hugged me and Toni immediately transferred from her mother to me.
“Dance, Daddy?”
“Sure, pumpkin. Let’s find some good music. Have I taught you to foxtrot?”
“No-o-o. Do we have a fox?”
“It’s a dance, honey. Come on, I’ll show you.”
On Saturday I photocopied the letter from the draft board and mailed it to my attorney as an FYI, explaining that I’d be out of town and unavailable for two weeks.
I had one last appointment before Anna and I took off for Stratford. It seemed like the last thing I did before I left my studio for a season was always to take pictures of Sandra. She’d been coming to me for four years to have photos taken of her physical development as a young woman. It had been an informative time for both of us.
“Nate! It’s good to see you again!”
“Hello, Sandra. Hope the rest of your freshman year has been uneventful.”
“Yeah. I think we both had all the excitement we needed a couple of months ago.”
A couple of months ago, Clyde Warren, who had once been the Tenbrook constable and then got a job screwing minority draftees at the Hunter County Selective Service Board, had decided to run for County Sheriff on a platform of moral decency. He’d managed to get charges pressed against Dr. May and the librarian, Edna Ludwig, for corrupting young women with information about sex and contraceptives. That, fortunately, went nowhere. Then he started making veiled allusions to Tenbrook shielding a child pornographer—me. I managed to quash that rumor and Warren lost the election. It was disturbing, though, that there were actually people who voted for him. Sandra had worked to be sure I was shielded from any accusations that I’d used her for child pornography.
“I just wish it was over,” I sighed.
“Don’t tell me! What now?”
“The draft board decided I should finally be reclassified as I-O and has called me up to do alternative service. I’m supposed to start in September.”
“Oh, Nate! I’m sorry. It’s all retaliation for the whole thing with Warren, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure it is, but I’m not sure yet what to do about it. We’ll have to see how it plays out.”
“Would undressing me and posing me, and… um… caressing me brighten your day?” she asked.
“Sandra, you know I always love to do your photos. I’m surprised, though, that you don’t want me to just set up the camera so you can do them yourself.”
“You know I want you to do it. And I hope you can take the time to pose me for some real Attic Allure photos. I think you only have one of me on display.”
“Hmm. We’ll have to find some more ideas after you’ve finished your developmental photos. How much longer do you think you want to have these taken?” I asked as I started undressing Sandra. She always preferred me to take her clothes off of her, with accompanying kisses and caresses.
“I’ve been conducting a lot of interviews this term as part of my coursework. I’m sure the most dramatic changes in my body occurred during my adolescence and high school years. But I’ve really discovered a lot about college years through my interviews of seniors. I had them bring photos of themselves as freshmen and just before graduation. Then they told me about how they’d changed in college. The upshot is that there are a lot of less obvious changes that occur during these years, so I’d like to keep recording my own changes—say once every six months or so—throughout my college years.”
“Well, we might have difficulty arranging times in the next couple of years, but I’ll try to be available. Now let’s get you into position in front of the drop so I can take your pictures and not just stand here feeling you up.”
“You know I love to have you feel me up. I wonder sometimes if I’m sexually repressed since I have yet to find a guy I’d like to feel me up more than you. I’ve dated a few times this year, but none of them do anything for me.”
“Maybe you need a girl,” I laughed as I took the first of her series of developmental photos.
“I’ve thought of that, but I haven’t met a girl who rings my chimes yet, either. You know, anytime you want to put an end to my virginity, I’d welcome you in.”
“Please don’t tempt me when I’m weak. It looks like your hair is getting darker.”
“Nice of you to finally notice.”
“Sandra, when you start off completely naked, it takes me a while to work my way up to noticing your hair,” I said. We moved the fainting couch in front of the backdrop and I spread a white sheet on it. Sandra posed with her legs spread wide so I could position the camera and look straight up her vagina. That made it even harder to notice her hair.
“I’ve been gradually tinting my hair darker all year. I’m not trying to attract a boy and blonde hair definitely affects how seriously my research is taken. You wouldn’t believe the number of interviews I had last fall that were people saying, ‘Isn’t she cute. We’ll humor her.’ By fall, I should be a genuine brunette and I’ll get taken more seriously. I’ve written pages and pages in my developmental journal about it.”
“I take you seriously,” I said as I snapped the first picture of her vulva. I moved closer and took a second.
“See anything down there you’d like to get closer to?” she giggled.
“Oh, yes. Um… Let’s get you into something for an Attic Allure photo,” I said.
“You don’t want me naked anymore?”
“I certainly don’t want you naked any less,” I laughed. “But I have an idea I’d like to try out. I think I’ll take this idea to Stratford with me and see if I can get some interesting photos there. Besides, with your breasts exposed, I don’t think people realize how beautiful your legs are.”
“Oh, that’s sweet.”
I managed to get a light box set up that she could stand on with lights of different colors shining upward. Then I found a dress with the kind of lightweight flowing material for a skirt that I love. The top was nicely form-fitting. I carefully tucked all Sandra’s bits into it and did a little soft kissing as well. Then I got the fan out and started it blowing upward. With Sandra standing on the lightbox and the fan blowing, her skirts flew up. I had her hold them down in a parody of a Marilyn Monroe pose I’d once seen. Only instead of just air, it looked like the light was blowing her skirts and cast her face into shadow.
After I got the photos, I swept Sandra up and carried her behind the privacy screen where I undressed her again, caressing and kissing her. We went into the darkroom where I processed her photos and we were soon both naked. It was such a temptation to plant her on my cock and fuck her. It was not going to happen, though we each made sure the other had a satisfactory climax.
I got her dressed and gave her the session’s developmental photos and negatives. Then I kissed her again and she left. I spent the next hour carting the last few items I wanted with me to the microbus, so it would be ready for Anna and me in the morning.
I made love to each of my wives, paying special attention to Patricia and Ronda. Anna and I would be together for two weeks in Stratford. The last time just the two of us went to Stratford, she tried to see how many times we could possibly make love in a week. It turned out to be a lot.
Ronda still had three weeks of school left in her quarter, so Patricia and Toni were staying in Chicago with her. I loved the way we were able to attend to our various tasks and not leave anyone alone.
Sunday morning, Anna and I headed east to get to our summer home. Anna cuddled next to me while I was driving and I sat close to her while she drove. It’s a long day’s drive in the microbus, but we decided not to stop for the night in Windsor.
“So, think out loud for a while,” she said after we were about halfway across Michigan. “Something has you bothered enough that you don’t know what to do about that letter. What are your options?”
“Options. Hmm. I guess one option is to turn it all over to Lowell and explain that it’s ridiculous and ask him to fight it,” I said.
“That’s the obvious and what we expect. You’ve got a summer business and a nice job offer working for the government, and Mr. Martin has even said three months’ leave of absence in the summer for work in Canada could be arranged. Tell me about why you wouldn’t do that.”
I breathed a deep sigh. It was a good thing the engine was all the way in the back of the bus, or Anna wouldn’t have heard my answer.
“I’m a conscientious objector.”
“And that’s a reason not to fight it?”
“I’m pretty sure the draft board expects me to fight it,” I said. “And when I do, they’ll announce it to the world that I wasn’t concerned about my conscience at all, but was just another draft dodger and didn’t even want to fulfill my alternative service. My credibility would be shot with the people who have organized around what I had to say in Hunter County. It might even prejudice the case against Warren.”
“So, you think you should serve so the case can go forward?” Anna asked, a little puzzled.
“No. I think I should serve because I’m a conscientious objector. For four years, I’ve been fighting with the board to acknowledge my status and to clean up their act. They claim they cleaned it up by getting rid of Warren. But using the draft—even of a conscientious objector—to punish an individual who made a big deal out of it shows they haven’t cleaned up their act. I volunteered to serve alternative service when I graduated and put off going to college. I was completely willing to serve—just absolutely not in the military. Has that changed now? Am I somehow excused from my obligations?”
“Oh, gee, Nate. You really need to explain that to Ronda and Patricia. And to me again. I think that we believed like you say the draft board does—that becoming a conscientious objector was mostly a valid means to avoid the draft. But it’s way more than that to you. It’s like a commitment to your ideals. It paints it in a completely different light.”
“There are a lot of people who are suggesting a universal draft instead of a selective service. They say we should follow the Israeli or Swiss model of requiring everyone to serve two years, whether in the military or in alternative service. I don’t go that far. I don’t think we should have a government mandate over our heads. But I believe there should be alternative service recruiting stations, the same way they are recruiting people to serve in the Army or Air Force or Marines or Navy. And it should be an equal opportunity for both men and women. You know, my sister just wants to become a pilot. But do you think the Air Force is ever going to allow women to fly jets? While we were screwing around with Warren back in Huntertown this spring, the senate passed the Equal Rights Amendment and sent it to the states for ratification. It took three months for the states to ratify the 26th amendment giving eighteen-year-olds the right to vote. It’s been two months since the ERA was sent to the states. Do you know how many states have passed it so far? Fifteen. Do you think a state like Illinois, that still has judges on the bench who don’t believe women are capable of orgasms and sheriff candidates who want to prosecute doctors for prescribing birth control will ever pass the amendment?”
“That’s scary.”
“I got all that preached to me by Carrie during our last study group. Her councilwoman has a platform of equal rights. All because our founding fathers were so shortsighted that they could launch a revolution against a king for the right of self-governance, but declared only that all men are created equal. No matter how we teach using the masculine when a universal is intended, that’s not what people actually believe about the constitution. Sure, all women are created equal, too. To each other. Not to men.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Nate. What does it all mean regarding your alternative service?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Here’s what I see. Eliminating the draft—and there’s been talk about an all-volunteer army for a while now—doesn’t solve one of the fundamental issues. The army will still be made up of racial minorities and the poor who can’t afford to go to college so they can get a better education and a better job. And it doesn’t end the war. It puts it in the hands of volunteers, who still go to fight in an illegal undeclared war that supports the military-industrial complex. How can I keep preaching against the war if I ignore my call to serve in alternative service?”
“Nate, I really hate to sound like your mother, but I think we need to pray about it.”
“Honey, you know I’m not very religious, but Mom’s always been right about that. She always prays to protect our friends and families and those who might be affected by our decision, and to help us make the right decision. She never suggests in her prayer what she thinks should be the decision. Only for guidance to let us make the right decision with confidence that God will provide it.”
“I think your mom is really smart. You know, that was the problem with my church and Rev. Armstrong. I love the man and really appreciate what he did for my family, but he always told us what the right decision was. He didn’t tell us to pray about whether or not we had sex. He told us that we had to not have sex. It wasn’t a decision; it was a commandment.”
“Mom says her faith is a faith of questions, not of answers.”
“Should we pray?”
“Honey, I think we just did. Do you want to say ‘amen’.”
“Amen.”
We stopped to eat in London, but didn’t take too long there. We pulled in to our parking spot behind the Family Attic a little after eight o’clock. We didn’t bother to unload all the things in the bus. Anna and I went straight to the apartment, turned on the heat, and went to bed.
Of course, that wasn’t to sleep. I loved having long conversations with any of my girlfriends, but there always came a time when the conversation was over and it was time to make love. When we got home in Stratford, making love was the only thing on our minds.
I could still remember how I dreamed of kissing Anna when she turned seventeen. I would take her in my arms, gently stroking her cheek with my fingers, brushing her lips with my own. And then… I was only seventeen and had never been kissed myself. I wasn’t sure what came next, other than in my dream, I came.
In five and a half years since then, I’d learned what came next. Anna and I had broken up a week before that promised seventeenth birthday kiss, and we didn’t collect on it until months later. Now, as Anna said, “Kissing makes a girl want to do all kinds of other things.” When I kissed Anna and we held each other, she wanted to do everything else we could do with our two naked bodies in bed. And that’s what we did that night in Stratford.
Anna and I explored each other like we’d done on a date when we were in high school. She looked at my cock—examined it—like she was memorizing every contour and vein. She licked it and stroked it and eventually took it in her mouth to coax a maximum load of come from me. But that wasn’t the end of our play. Anna lay back on the bed while I took my turn examining and just looking at her sex. It wasn’t like I never saw a pussy, but taking time to just look at Anna, to hold her open and gaze into the channel my cock wanted to invade, to lick from butt hole to clit and back again. All those things that we never seem to take time to do. I still thought Anna’s vulva was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
When she’d come on my tongue, I kissed my way up her body to her lips, as I slid my length into her and we both gazed in wonder into each other’s eyes. It was a wonder that we were so in love with each other. It was a wonder that we both loved two other women like our lives depended on it. It was a wonder to feel my phallus, almost painfully stiff, sliding in and out of her moist heat as we both rose to another climax, gasping ‘I love you’ to each other in the haze of orgasm.
And then we held each other, lying side-by-side beneath the covers, continuing to kiss and whisper our love. We woke up that way on Monday morning and made love again before dressing and getting started on our day. We had a schedule for the week that would allow very little time for just resting in each other’s arms.
“We have three shows to photograph and get prints ready for,” Anna said as we arrived at the theatre Monday afternoon. “As You Like It opens the fifth, Lorenzaccio opens the sixth, and King Lear opens the seventh. Before that, they will each have audience previews for the locals. The actors must be going crazy.”
“I can’t imagine how they keep their lines straight from one show to the next,” I said.
“Most of the leading characters are only in one show. Supporting actors are in a couple and extras and walk-ons might be in all of them. I understand your new girlfriend is playing the lead in this one,” Anna laughed.
“New girlfriend? Say it isn’t so! What are you talking about?”
“Patricia said you took photos of a new actress over spring break that Damien and Kathleen brought over from England. She was very satisfied with the sitting according to Patricia. She could hear how satisfied she was all the way upstairs.”
“That may be, but she’s part of Damien and Kathleen’s little menage.”
“Oh. Well, may she come no closer to our bed than Kathleen has,” Anna said.
Oh, crap! Kathleen had come to our bed when Damien was playing with his three witches. Anna was so smug.
As You Like It is a nice pastoral play. Kathleen was not in this show and shadowed us to help set up shots for the first act. She explained a lot of Damien’s concepts for the show.
“It’s set in 18th century Ruritania. That’s a fictional Central European country created in the 1890s as a setting for romances. It’s like the all-purpose fairytale land. As You Like It is sometimes considered Shakespeare’s most romantic play.”
“That’s kind of cool. I could make a lot of pictures out of that theme,” I said.
We got the photos set for the first act and then headed into the second. Kathleen picked up her commentary.
“The board wouldn’t approve Damien’s original concept for the play,” Kathleen laughed. “It seems last summer, some member of the Hart household suggested that she’d like to see someone cast a whole Shakespearean play in role reversal with women playing all the men’s roles and men playing the women. Damien got inspired. The board said this was the wrong play for that idea and that he should plot a third stage production that is expected to be avant garde.”
“Who would have suggested something silly like that?” Anna asked innocently.
“She’s standing between Nate and me. I seem to recall that she wanted it done as women in the men’s roles and not as cross-dressers. She wanted the men cast as weak and sniveling dits who all get killed because they cannot defend themselves.”
“Oh. I said that, didn’t I?” Anna confessed.
Anita came back on stage dressed as a boy. I figured there was some pretty heavy-duty elastic bandage strapping those tits down.
“The problem was that this is one of the few Shakespearean plays that actually has a dominant female leading role and the board felt that would be slighting a woman of one of the stronger roles available.”
“How would that work anyway?” I asked. “We’ve got Rosalind disguising herself as a boy. Would a male in the role have to disguise himself as a woman?”
“It gets really confusing,” Kathleen said. “In Shakespeare’s day, the roles were all played by men and boys. So, he had a boy playing a woman’s role, then had her disguise herself as a boy.”
“A boy playing a woman disguised as a boy,” Anna repeated.
“Not only that, but when she meets Orlando in the woods, she ends up role-playing the woman he’s attracted to, which is, in reality, herself. So, we have a boy playing a woman disguised as a boy role-playing a woman.”
“Who is actually a boy. I’m already confused,” I said.
We got through the first scene in Act 3 and called it quits for the day. In the morning, we would pick up again, but this was the last scene set anywhere except the forest. Anna and I went out to dinner with Damien, Kathleen, and Anita.
“I still want to do the whole role reversal thing,” Damien said as we sat at the café. “I just need to spend more time studying the plays to choose the right one. It’s a tricky endeavor. Do I change the names and pronouns all the way through the play? Perhaps a history would be a better choice, but everyone expects Richard to have a hump back and shuffle along with one crippled foot. The woman should be a strong character and not already have a disability.”
“It was just a half-assed thought that one young theatre-goer had,” Anna laughed. “I didn’t expect anyone to take it seriously.”
“Out of the mouths,” Damien said. “The name of this play is probably indicative that Shakespeare wrote it specifically to the tastes of his audience. He was terrible at naming his plays if it wasn’t named after the main character. He just throws up his hands and says, ‘Whatever. As you like it.’ And that becomes the title.”
“Twelfth Night,” Anita chimed in. “Or What You Will.”
“Exactly,” Damien said. “And here we have an audience member who off the cuff comes up with a great production concept. Come home with me tonight, Anna, and I’ll show you how much I appreciate your idea.”
Anna snorted soda out her nose.
“Men have an infinite appetite for other women. Women don’t share that. Not for other men. Now if Anita wants come join us and show me how much you appreciate the idea, Nate and I would make her welcome.”
“Oh, good!” Anita said, punching Damien in the ribs. “If it weren’t for my slave-driving director calling rehearsal at eight o’clock in the morning, I’d take you up on that. I don’t think I’d get any sleep, though, if I spent the night tonight, and I’ll need to be rested in the morning.”
Anna and I spent the next two hours after dinner processing and printing proofs of our black and white images. I’d drop all the color slide film off with Dave at Pro Photo Source after I finished the first round of production photos on Tuesday.
I had another task Tuesday afternoon besides processing and printing proof sheets. I needed to make a call.
“Mr. Martin, it’s Nate Hart. I’m supposed to come to work for you in September.”
“Yes, of course, Nate. Please don’t tell me you are backing out. I just made my presentation to the Assistant Secretary of Consular Affairs. They’re all very excited about the new program.”
“I don’t want to back out,” I said. “But a complication has arisen. I’ve been drafted.”
“At this date? No. I have your file here and it says your lottery number is 233. And your year was 1970. You shouldn’t be eligible for the draft,” Martin said, scrambling to look in my file.
“I guess ordinarily that would be true. I’ve been having a bit of a disagreement with my draft board for almost five years. They are currently the subject of a discrimination lawsuit that I kind of started. They tried to get me classified as I-A before the lottery was held and while I was still a student. I appealed to the State Board and they reinstated my student deferment. But that expired when I graduated a week and a half ago. My file was returned to the local draft board and they issued my notice this past Friday.”
“You should still be exempt. I don’t understand everything about the draft, but the most they should be able to do is classify you as I-A and wait to see if your number is called.”
“While I was still in high school, I applied to become a conscientious objector. When the local board got my file back from the state, they reclassified me as I-O and said all conscientious objectors had to serve.”
“That’s because that classification is not normally issued until after a draft notice is. I’m sure we can get you out of this. There is just too much sign of retaliation in this.”
“There’s a problem, sir,” I said. “I know they probably expect me to fight it, and then they can pull the rug out from under the class action suit by claiming I was just draft dodging and wasn’t actually a conscientious objector. But I am. When I was in high school, I volunteered to serve as a CO before I went to college. If I was classified I-A and drafted, I would have moved here to my place in Canada. But now that I’m classified as I-O, I think fighting it would a denial of the reasons I wanted to be a conscientious objector in the first place.”
“When are you supposed to report?”
“September first.”
“Good. That gives me some time to get this investigated. Check back with me in a couple of weeks. And no matter what, don’t report to the induction center until we’ve talked this out.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry to throw this complication at you.”
“Well, nothing about the US Government is easy.”
We shot King Lear Wednesday afternoon and all day Thursday. As You Like It was easy by comparison. Lear had forty characters and twenty understudies, plus staff who all had to get in various pictures. The settings in As You Like It were pretty simple, too. Most of the play took place in the forest. With Lear, there were little pieces of furniture and props that separated the throne room from Goneril’s castle from Regan’s castle, then to the moors, the cliffs, the battlefield, and every little place that indicated a change of scenery. On the other hand, there weren’t all that many costume changes in Lear. Edgar was the only one disguised as not himself, and that was mostly stripping to a loincloth and running around like a monkey.
Anna and I didn’t go out after either day. I got the color work to Dave and went to the darkroom for the black and white work.
On Friday, we met with the marketing people, who chose all the images they wanted prints of and made sure the cast all were included. One guy kept tossing As You Like It proofs into the King Lear pile and Anna was busy keeping them straight.
Eventually we got out of there and I had enough printing to keep me busy all weekend. On Monday, we started in with Lorenzaccio. It was a 19th century French play and had not been produced often because the plot is very complex. It has to do with one Medici offing another in an attempt to start a revolution that never materializes. It’s sometimes referred to as the French Hamlet, but it defies a direct comparison. I was happy when we finished with it Tuesday evening and let Anna handle the marketing people Wednesday while I printed photos.
By Wednesday, orders were coming in from cast and crew for personal production photos. Fortunately, we didn’t have to produce them that week. The shows would run all summer, so all I needed to do were the production photos. Early Friday morning, Anna and I headed back to Chicago for Ronda’s graduation the next week.
On the entire two-week trip, I hadn’t taken a single nude photo. I supposed that working for the State Department would be a lot like that. If I ever actually worked for them.
Of course, early Sunday morning we packed everyone up and drove to Sage. We got there in time for Mom’s sermon and lunch prepared by Dad. It was Kat’s favorite, Beef Stroganoff. She had to be at the high school by one-thirty and we all got there in time for her two-thirty graduation. Deborah and the kids rolled in just in time to sit with us. Anthony and Toni had a little tussle to see who would get to sit on Gampa’s lap. Dad told them they had to share and Cameron cuddled up close beside him while the littler ones were perched on his knees.
Julie found us and was enough younger than the rest of us that Cameron kind of made her a substitute for Kat. Then we sat through the commencement address, the valedictorian’s speech, and the roll call of the graduating students. Graduating a year early from high school was really a big deal for Kat. Julie had picked up her diploma the previous weekend and we took pictures of the two of them together.
We all stuck around for a while for the obligatory graduation open house. Deborah was spending the night at Mom and Dad’s house with her kids. John had been re-activated as a staff sergeant and was training for army electronics. Deborah said it was likely they’d be shipped to Japan for a couple of years, since so many of the advancements in electronics were happening there.
To me, Japan just sounded like Asia and was entirely too close to Vietnam. Deborah pointed out that it was still an eight-hour flight to get from Okinawa to Saigon, if there was even a direct route available. Which there wasn’t.
I thought of all my hours on a plane getting to and from Australia and sat to ponder just how far things were in this world. Many of them places I’d be traveling to.
We got back home in time for Toni to wake up thinking it was morning.
There was another reason to have the family all together that first full week of June—not that I needed any more reasons than being with Ronda, Patricia, and Toni. Patricia’s period had started the day Anna and I left for Ontario, meaning she wasn’t yet pregnant. This week would be a perfect time to start working on that again.
“You have to give me loving first,” Ronda said. “I’m not trying to get pregnant, but I really miss you.”
“I miss you, love,” I said. “You all have to keep me straight about making sure I don’t ignore you and you don’t feel left out.”
“Anna had you for the past two weeks,” Patricia laughed. “But we won’t make her wait two weeks to have another shot.”
“I’m probably as horny as either of you,” Anna said. “We worked so hard the past two weeks we hardly had any time for loving after the first night.”
“No,” Ronda said, giving Anna a kiss. “You didn’t make love all the time?”
“Barely once a day,” Anna sighed. Then they all sputtered in laughter.
I, of course, was dancing Toni around the living room. She had a new stuffed fox and was teaching it to foxtrot. She was doing pretty well with the steps, but it was hard for me to bend over double and dance with her feet on the floor. And she really wanted to be held anyway, so I soon picked her up and we danced for an hour before we decided it was bedtime.
“I got a call from Mr. Martin,” Ronda said as we basked in the afterglow of our lovemaking. Patricia and Anna were next to us, holding each other. “He wants to meet with us this week. I set an appointment for Thursday.”
“I’m so sorry to be a problem with our plans, honey,” I said. “I really wanted it to work out that we’d be working together and traveling with our family.”
“Don’t give up hope. Anna and I had a couple of long talks by phone while you were ignoring her in Stratford,” Ronda laughed. “I understand why you don’t want to fight the induction notice. I talked to Mr. Martin about it and he was helpful. It seems I have a job offer, even if he can’t work something out with yours. But I think it will work out, one way or another.”
“I hope you’re right. I just feel like I’m letting the family down,” I said.
“Nate, one of the things we all love about you is your commitment to your principles,” Patricia whispered as she and Anna cuddled closer to us. “I know that if the induction was into the army, we’d be spending this week cleaning out the apartment and moving to Canada permanently. And we would all go with you. We know you are committed to non-violence and you are just as surely committed to each of us. We can only respond in kind and let you know we are equally committed to you.”
We shuffled around a bit, changing positions and kissing each other. Before long, my cock was deep inside Patricia.
“Let’s not name the baby after me,” I said. “There are enough Nate Harts in the world. Let’s find her own unique name and raise her to be as strong and independent as Toni is.”
“I suppose Nate or Natalie could be a little confusing,” Patricia sighed. “But the baby will have your last name. You said ‘she.’ Are you sure our little one will be a girl? Don’t you want a little boy to carry on the Hart name?”
“I’m not concerned about that. Maybe someday we’ll have a little boy. I’ll love him just as much as our daughter.”
“You said it again. Are you so sure we’ll have a little girl?”
“I read someplace that the father determines the sex of the child. So, I decided girl. Isn’t that how it works?” I joked. Patricia and I began moving together in a smooth rhythm and I just loved being in my beautiful girlfriend.
“I don’t think it’s quite as absolute as that,” Anna said. “What do you suppose Dora’s father decided?”
“To be an asshat,” I snorted. “If we have a girl who likes girls, or a boy who likes boys, or a boy who is really a girl, I don’t care. He/she will still be my child and I will love her/him with all my heart.”
“Oh, move a little faster, Nate. That turned me on so much I’m ready to come. Now, honey, now. Fill me with a baby.”
I did my best.
Ronda and I arrived at Mr. Martin’s office in the Federal Building promptly for our appointment. Then we waited. There was some kind of big diplomatic meeting that had just concluded in Berlin regarding the status of the city. What a mess that was. Basically, it said Berlin was still an occupied territory and the US, UK, France, and Russia ruled it. An aide of some sort, who just introduced himself as Brian, had explained why Mr. Martin would be a few minutes late.
Eventually, though, Mr. Martin arrived and we were shown in. He looked a little harried, but smiled and shook our hands.
“How would you like to become the Ambassador to Germany?” he asked, then chuckled at our discomfiture. “I’m not serious. It was brilliant to sign the Quadripartite Agreement this past weekend while we are between ambassadors. We just had a few issues regarding where the embassy is actually located. The answer is Bonn, by the way. We have a consular presence in Berlin, but as long as Germany remains divided, Berlin is not the capital. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to visit eventually, though. Now, let’s talk about your draft notice.”
“I’m sorry to be a pain, Mr. Martin. If you want to rescind our offer, I understand,” I said.
“No, I don’t want to rescind it. I had one of our lawyers investigate the past two weeks. Very interesting case. Technically, it seems your call-up could be considered illegal and retributive. Still, there is compelling evidence that you asked for this assignment and they have merely agreed to it. But we arrived at a compromise. I hope this will be satisfactory for you as well.”
“We’re interested in hearing any possibilities as long as we don’t need to compromise Nate’s principles and commitment,” Ronda said beside me. I started to reach for her hand, but thought that wouldn’t look too professional.
“Well, technically, they can’t draft a government employee engaged in a critical task. I could employ you effective today and the draft notice would be moot. I felt that was less satisfactory, considering our agreement about summers. What we offered the Selective Service was the opportunity for them to save face and assign your alternative service to the State Department,” Martin said.
“In other words, serve my alternative service in the job you hired me to do in the first place?” I asked.
“Exactly. We are walking a fine line in this as well as the SS. Alternative service is supposed to be served domestically. We’ll have to make your office be here in Chicago, but you’ll be traveling to other countries. The downside for you is that you are stuck with us for two years. As a regular employee, you could feasibly quit the job and go back to your normal life. Serving alternative service, you are committed for two years. Two and a half if we continue to honor our agreement for you to have summers off to attend to your personal business.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a downside,” I said. “I might also call it job security.”
“Good way to look at it,” Martin said. “Especially in the current economy. There is a further limitation. As a conscripted employee of the State Department, you are restricted in certain activities.”
“I can’t take pictures in my studio?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s fine. You can’t join a protest or be the spokesperson for the suit against your Selective Service Board. You can still speak against the former employee, but the suit against the board will either be carried out by the people of Hunter County or will be dropped,” Martin said.
“I think the suit against the board is going to be dismissed,” I said. “They have made an effective argument that the people cannot sue an office of the United States Government. That leaves them with the suit against Warren. The County Attorney has declined to file criminal charges against him and the civil suit is likely to go against him but not offer any remedy. He isn’t a multi-millionaire. Damages will be impossible to collect.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but it sounds like that won’t be an issue for you.”
“Can I make a statement about it before I come to work?” I asked.
Martin grinned at me.
“Just make sure you aren’t engaged in a criminal activity when you make your statement. Don’t paint it on a freeway overpass, for example.”
“How does this affect my position?” Ronda asked.
“You will still become a regular employee and I have created the coordinator position specifically for you. If you decide in a year that you will quit and start a family, that will be up to you, but Nate will still have to serve his time.”
We left the office with a degree of relief and maybe a little trepidation. I needed to call my lawyer and tell him the outcome. But first, I needed to take Ronda home and make love to her.
From that point on, chaos reigned in our household. Ronda’s last official day of the quarter was Friday. Of course, she’d already taken and passed all her exams. Her parents and brother arrived Friday afternoon and booked into a hotel. We wanted to invite Danny to stay with us, but we really didn’t have room for one more person in our apartment. We went out to dinner with the Mays and had a wonderful time celebrating Ronda’s graduation.
The graduation event itself was Sunday afternoon. Danny wanted to see a ballgame, but the Cubs were playing in San Francisco Saturday. He grudgingly settled for watching the game on TV in his hotel room while Dr. May went with me to see the studio and Ronda took her mother Susan shopping with Anna and Patricia.
“This is quite a nice setup you have,” Dr. May said when we stepped into the studio above Camera Warehouse.
“I don’t know how much chance I’ll have to use it in the next couple of years,” I said. “We plan to continue to spend summers in Canada and Ronda and I will be traveling a lot in our new jobs.”
“Congratulations on that,” he said. “Do you think this will be more profitable than just sticking with your studio work?”
“It’s hard to say, but it doesn’t make a difference anymore. I’ve been drafted.”
“What? Don’t tell me that board is so stupidly vindictive. What’s the plan. Are you moving to Canada?”
“No. We’re going to work for the State Department,” I said. I told Ronda’s father about receiving the letter and my new classification as I-O and the message that all conscientious objectors had to serve. Then I told him that we weren’t really talking about it, but the State Department had been approved as my alternative service employer. “The difference, as Mr. Martin put it, is that I can’t quit my job for two years. I don’t think I’ll have any problems fulfilling my obligation. Once I’m employed, the only thing the draft board gets is a final report that I’ve served my time.”
“We should get a statement out to the newspaper,” Dr. May said. “Even poster the community. I’ll bet the suit could get some mileage out of it. Can you come back to Tenbrook to make another appearance this summer?”
“Yes, I could do that. After I’m employed in my alternative service, I’m not permitted to engage in any public protest against a government office. That means the draft board. But it doesn’t exclude me from either testifying or speaking about the case against Warren.”
“I’ll make some calls and see what we can arrange. I’ll talk to you before we set any dates,” he said. “This set of photos of girls with musical instruments is nice. Tell me about that.”
We passed a pleasant time, supposedly looking at my gallery and studio. After the tour, though, I took him to the club and we had a drink and a smoke before going back to join the rest of the family for dinner.
And on Sunday afternoon, we all gathered and cheered when Ronda walked across the stage to accept her degree. That was it. We were all out of school at last.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
