“Life would be much simpler if everything were black or white. Figuring the shades of gray, while more accurate, could be a lot of work and downright confusing sometimes . . . Junior was bilious most of the time and occasionally threw things in a fit of rage. Frankie distrusted the world and its people , and so kept to himself—and he's the one who's considered crazy and put in the State Hospital. It didn't seem fair. I didn't understand it, and I missed my friend.”
At the age of eight, I went to live with my father, a mean-spirited, selfish man who had started a new family and didn't want me around to complicate this new chapter in his life. Thus began a five-year trial of surviving his bi-polar flareups of animosity and unreachable lows of depression, living a Huckleberry Finn style existence in a ramshackle shack on the banks of the Bellamy River, and forging a tenuous friendship with Crazy Frankie, a paranoid schizophrenic. The tensions increase as I approach puberty, and it's a race to see if I drown in the river--as my father hopes--or get shot and killed by Crazy Frankie--or if I escape and return to live with my grandparents.
For Years after World War II ended, Japanese soldiers termed "holdouts" would be found now and then in the many isolated islands in the Pacific. Some didn't know the war had ended, others didn't care. They were still prepared to fight and die for their emperor and the Land of the Rising Sun.
It seemed to me the Nazi Uboats could be holdouts as well. They could hide in the oceans, bays, and harbors undetected for Lord knows how long.
After all, I'd found proof of their presence close to my house.