Sample Chapter: Born To Watch TV

Tobacco fields were lit by dull moonlight as 22 year-old Helen Norwood drew near to the end of her 1500 mile drive. She'd left her home in Abilene, Texas to give birth in Moore County, North Carolina where her husband, Wayne Denzil "Dag" Norwood was stationed in the army. It was August, 1943. A half-dozen German officials had lost their bearings using experimental psychotropic and mega-stimulant drugs. They talked of ruling the Earth for a thousand years. A war ensued.

Helen was a pretty lil Texas gal with buck teeth and great gams. She was of Irish/English descent. But, since trash is a dominant gene, Helen was almost totally and irreversibly Irish like her father L.S.D.. Larry Dwyer (middle name Stephen) was second generation Potato Famine.

She arrived in Pinehurst at dawn on July 26th. Dag, which was a reference to the cartoon character Dagwood Bumstead, met her at a small cafe. There was something slight in his greeting for his pregnant young wife. Sgt. Wayne Norwood had recieved a field commission to Captain and had taken up with an attractive 20 year-old visiting North Carolina from Alabama that summer.

As Dag saw it, he'd married as an NCO but now things had changed. He was Captain Norwood. That perhaps called for a spousal upgrade as well. So his eyes were lying as he drank coffee with Helen.

Just at that hour future rock star Mick Jagger was emerging from the womb. Others born in Leo 1943 included Jim Morrison and Jerry Garcia. The 1943 crop of kids listed Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, George Harrison and Kieth Richard. The stars were all stacked up in Leo. So was the moon.

A few days later, Helen went to the Moore County Hospital and delivered Rama Lama. Twas 7:43 pm, a hot sunday night, August First, 1943.

Wayne Denzil Norwood Jr. (he was to go by "Denny") was a ten pound baby. The mother recovered soon and drove back to Abilene.

She lived there with L.S.D. and his wife May, the beaming maternal grandparents, flush with pride at their first born grandchild. May was an ex-school teacher of old American stock. Larry was a landscape architect who had played football at Notre Dame on one of Knute Rockney's squads.

Also in the house was Betty Dwyer, Helen's younger sister who was 20. Older sister Mary completed the Dwyer family. She was married to another army man from Nebraska. Abilene hosted Fort Hood and the servicemen wasted no time familiarizing themselves with the local flora. Dag was from neighboring Oklahoma.

Helen was not yet aware of Dag's planned upgrade in wives. But soon he visited on leave before shipping out to a paratrooper unit in England preparing to invade France.

Dag first broke the noose to LSD. He told Larry he would seek a divorce from Helen. He planned to marry his Bama babe.

LSD puffed on Camel straights and stared into the dial illuminator of his Philco radio.

Finally, he told Dag to inform the happy new mother himself. Mr. Dwyer didn't carry bad water.

Dag took Helen for a drive. He gave it to her matter of fact. He had fallen in love with another woman. He intended to divorce Helen.

It was like a terrible collision. Helen couldn't see straight. She was borderline hyper/down-in-the-dumps anywaze, owing to her Irish gitup. She didn't cry then. Later, in her room alone with infant Lama, she weeped for many, many daze. Many, many daze. It would take a full twelve years for Helen to really return full circle to her status as a happy, newly-married wife.

Little baby Denny liked to leap in his spring-loaded jumper swing. He ate a pack of Camels to no discernible ill effects. He liked bright buttons that his grandmother May would spread before him, to smell May frying okra in a pan, to hear the thunderstorms through a screen door in the kitchen. He seemed a very bright boy to May Monroe Dwyer. Yes, her maiden name was Monroe. She was the great-niece of American President James Monroe.

As for LSD, after three girls he was most happy to have a boy to play with. And young Aunt Betty just adored the child whom she saw as gifted, blessed, enchanted.

So the enfant RL was well-cared for, even as his grief-stricken mom cried her eyes out upstairs in a darkened room. And cried. And cried.

And she cried.