A Man Named Dave

part due to their past, I felt I had to rid myself of any feelings of resentment.
    On a wintry, overcast day, only a handful of people came to Mother’s funeral to pay their respects. A gentleman whom I later learned had met Mother a few times and worked part-time as a golf pro, gave Mother’s eulogy. At Mother’s gravesite, with scattered clumps of snow surrounding me, I knelt down and prayed. With my hands clasped, shivering from the chilling breeze, I prayed out loud for God to grant my mother peace. “May your soul finally be given eternal peace. And, may almighty God protect you and deliver you from evil… Amen.”
    As I finished, I could feel a gigantic weight lift from my soul.
    Before I caught my departing flight, all five of us promised to stay in touch, but that was the last time the five Pelzer brothers would come together.

13 – The Last Dance
    I was not looking forward to returning to Nebraska. Once again, I discovered Patsy had borrowed money. This time she had begged Grandmother nearly a year ago, while I was flying in Saudi Arabia. I would have never known had I not asked Grandmother for a loan so I could use the money to give to my youngest brother, Kevin, who in his early twenties needed the money to find his own place to live. At first Grandmother was insistent that I had borrowed the money from her. When I assured her I knew nothing about the loan, she then became more livid because I should have known.
    All the while Patsy fidgeted in her seat, claiming her innocence until she broke down in tears, saying she had forgotten to tell me and she was now too embarrassed to say anything in front of Grandmother. As I tried to stick up for my wife, Grandmother simply raised her head in a “I told you so” attitude, as if she enjoyed fueling the fire between Patsy and me. At the time I felt like a heel that my other brothers and I could do little to help Kevin, who eventually was able to provide for himself.
    At my new air force base, even though I had been stationed there for over eight months, I was still adjusting. My job was completely different and absurd compared to Beale. I was now part of the EC-135 Looking Glass, whose mission had been to serve as an alternative airborne communication command post in the event of a nuclear war. But even though there was a refueling boom attached to the aircraft, the EC-135 rarely midair-refueled other planes. To confuse matters more, the Looking Glass was retired but continued to fly “unofficially”.
    During my in-processing I learned my biggest task as a boom operator was not learning to midair-refuel a different aircraft, but to ensure that the twenty plus members of the crew received their lunches.
    On my first qualification flight, I found out how serious my job was when a low-ranking radio operator actually berated me in front of the entire crew because his lunch did not receive a mustard package. Upon landing I was immediately reprimanded by my superior, who rolled his eyes in mock dismay. Within days, because of my blunder, all boom operators were mandated to check every item on every meal prior to taking off.
    At home, after settling into a nice condominium we could not afford, Patsy soon became bored. Because we lived off base, she felt even more isolated. When I first found out about my reassignment, I had prayed the move would somehow force us to rely on ourselves, as a couple, without “family” interference once and for all. During our drive to Nebraska. Patsy had even chatted about getting her GED and then taking courses in college. She had seemed so optimistic. But within weeks Patsy complained of missing her family in California.
    I had assumed with the reduced flight times, due to budget cuts, I would be able to spend more time with my family, finish my college degree, and volunteer once in a while. But because of the ever changing flight schedule, I could not attend college or volunteer as I had in California, and I rarely saw Patsy or Stephen. To make matters worse, when I received my promotion to technical sergeant, I was assigned as the wing’s senior in-flight evaluator, forcing me to work longer hours. At times I’d come home only long enough to throw a ball a few times with Stephen and give him a bath before reading to him in bed. At times I was so tired, I’d fall asleep with Stephen on his bed. As the months passed, I felt my job was completely worthless, and I began to detest myself as a father and a husband.
    In the spring of 1992,