Hey fellow Baby Boomers, have we become the people we said never to trust?

Anyone who has spent all or part of their teen or growing-up years in the sixties will surely remember the famous slogan delivered from under protest banners flying high or tacked up in seedy apartments and dorm rooms decorated with day-glow posters of Bob Dylan and Jimi Hendrix.

Remember what it was?  Come-on, sure you do. Here's a hint - it was one of the catch phrases of the hippies - the 'Love' generation. It went right along with, "Make Love Not War". And it was usually drawn with magic markers on rumpled 'used-to- be white', dorm room sheets.

Still nothing? Hey man you're not trying.

OK, last clue. What could the most ironic thing that millions of settled, responsible movers and shakers of today’s society (us) could have said all those years ago to make us squirm now in our CEO chairs or heated leather Lexus seats?

No guesses? Really?

OK, well everyone who thinks they know the answer, jot it down on an old 'zigzag' joint paper and stuff it into the back pocket of your jeans, (despite the fact that they're three sizes larger than they were in 1968, and now fit a whole lot tighter). And even worse, you're not wearing them tight in the butt any more to be sexy!  Then send it off to me in your old college laundry bag. Winners will be chosen completely at random by the judge (me) whose thoughts are likewise completely random (me again) and.... Oh forget it. You give up?

All right - well if everyone has guessed or is so stumped that they're about to give up and turn on the 24/7 'Bad-60's-Sitcoms-All-Night' cable channel's Beverly Hillbilly's re-run marathon, here is the answer. It was;

"Never trust anyone over Thirty."

Let me explain.

The whole irony thing slid insidiously into my consciousness the other day when I happen to hear a song that was pretty silly and pretentious forty years ago (and it hadn't improved with age) spilling out from the German built speakers of my Japanese car.

It was a rather banal little ditty called 'Signs' or some such title. To be honest I don't really recall who did the thing back then nor would I recognize the singer nasally droning it out today, even if you picked him up by the scruff of the neck and bodily wumped me over the head with him.

But it was the words to song - silly and naive as they were back then, that really started me thinking. The song, as I began to remember, was about how the middle class, up-tight, grown-ups (definitely not us back then!), had made up way too many rules in order to force their stodgy, middle class values on the free and uninhibited sprits (us - the 'cool' Baby Boomer kids).  And even more insidious, the song reminded us Boomer kids back in the 60's, that the adults had put up all kinds of 'Signs' to infringe on the rights all of us mellow, young Boomers, who asked for nothing more than to, 'let-it -all-hang-out.

As the still unknown pop vocalist of today sang about how the sign and the rules were encroaching on our freedoms and individualism, I started to get this unpleasant little nagging feeling at the back of my mind.

And then it hit me.

We were the ones who were now putting up the signs and making everyone conform.  The signs that tell everyone what they can and can’t do and what they better do if they know what’s good for them.

For instance, the environmental movement which had started out as a quasi-religion of 'love mother earth' by free-spirited hippies in communes, has now been taken over by grim humorless bureaucrats who watch over things like 'Big Brother' and use a bewildering array of sometimes contradictory government laws to enforce their will.

For heaven sakes I heard only last week about someplace across out fruited plains where not only were you ordered to recycle, but you had to put your garbage in clear plastic bags so that the enviro police could make sure you that were!

Whoa... Hey ‘Bro’ was this what the free spirits in the commune had in mind?  Weren't we protesting the heavy hand of government telling us what to do?

It sort of reminds me of that great old movie from the 60's by Woody Allen. It was called Bananas and was about how a Latin/American freedom fighter (who looked suspiciously like Castro) changed when the 'outsiders' became the 'insiders' and could make all the rules. As the farce, broadened into the ridiculous, I recall one scene where the dictator makes a law that everyone will have to wear clean underwear every day and they have to wear them on the outside of their clothes so that the 'Underwear Police' can check them daily.

Want another one we would have protested as infringement of free expression?  How about a planned community that recently told a resident that they would have to take down their colored Christmas lights or risk a fine. Why? Because someone had passed 'rule' that all Christmas lights had to be white! (I wonder if they not only require underwear to be worn on the outside, but mandate that it must be white as well !!  Hummm. Are we seeing a pattern here?

Or take the government itself. Now I know that I wasn't so stoned that I don't remember those protests. The ones where all we wanted was to get the government out of our lives and off of our back - right?

Now it seem like we've not just invited them to tell us what to do, but are demanding it !  You know the drill. "Why doesn't the government do something about this or "we need a law that says...."  Ah uh. There are underwear laws and white light rules in our futures folks.

Now don't get me wrong - I know that a lot of these laws and regulations have been put in place "for our own good". But wasn't that what an older generation told us forty years ago?

Ah well, maybe we should just shrug our collective shoulders, light some sandalwood incense, pass around the old bong pipe and just chock it up to just another 'sign' of the times.

Peace dude.

Ric Wasley

Author

Shadow of Innocence

Kunati - April 2007

http://www.kunati.com

http://www.kunati.com/shadow-of-innocence-hip-myster/

Ric Wasley has spent almost forty years wandering through corporate board rooms and honky-tonk bars. He now divides his time between writing mystery novels – Shadow or Innocence – A McCarthy Family Mystery – Published by Kunati, http://www.kunati.com , and observing the really ‘juicy parts’ of the human condition. 

Hello Readers:

I've been getting a lot of requests for additional information about the McCarthy clan so I thought it might be kind of fun to let them introduce themselves and say a few words about their roles in their latest adventure, Shadow of Innocence.

The immediate and extended McCarthy family is headed by the 'old man' himself, 'Big Mike' McCarthy, former Boston PD patrolman, Sergeant and Detective grade cop. Now due to a forced early retirement, he's out on his own as a private detective working out of a small office in Harvard Square, Cambridge, Massachusetts.  

Then there's his wife, the former (and now again through divorce) Miss Felicity Parker Prescott of the Beacon Hill Prescotts, who on a whim back in 1938 married the big, good looking Irish cop who rescued her from a mugging on the Boston Commons. The culturally mismatched marriage was doomed from the start but as Miss Felicity is fond of saying, "It did produce three lovely and talented children." Francis, Bronwyn and Michael Jr.

Francis McCarthy (Frankie to his father and Franklin to his mother) is a Harvard graduate and junior partner in the venerable Boston law firm of Hayward, Elliott & Delbert. Next, there's kid sister Bronwyn, a freshman at her mother’s Alma Mater, Radcliffe. And last but certainly not least, the middle child Michael Jr.…Mick.Oh, and we can't forget about the extended McCarthy family and Mick's two wild cousins from Southie, Kevin and Danny McCarthy.

But let’s have them say a few words about themselves and Shadow of Innocence.And of course that means starting with the 'stars' of the novel, Mick and Bridget.Although they may be liberated products of the swinging sixties, Mick is just old fashioned enough to insist on 'ladies first', so we'll start off with Bridget.Now Bridget isn't technically a McCarthy ­yet. (Oops, she's blushing ­­and tapping her foot. Not a good sign, so I'd better get on with this.) Like I said, she's technically not a McCarthy but she and Mick are a team in every sense of the word and as close as two people can get spiritually, emotionally, physically and…ah, yeah…well, I'll just let Bridget tell you in her own words.

Bridget: Well then, to get right to it. I was christened Bridget Ann Connolly in St. Mary's Church in Ballykill, County Cork, Ireland. I've got five brothers and I'm not ashamed ta say that my Da' and oldest brother Colin are fightin' fer Ireland's freedom in the Irish Republican Army. There are some as call 'em killers and such but they're wrong, they're patriots is all, and…ah, sorry, I get a bit carried away sometimes. Let me leave that lie.

About me. As I said, I grew up in County Cork and was educated by the Sisters at St. Thomas School who made sure we knew our Latin and Greek and never hesitated to use the ruler if we didn't. But I can't complain because when I was seventeen I was entered into an international scholastic contest by the school and wound up winnin’ a four-year scholarship to one of the most prestigious women's colleges in America?Radcliffe College.

That's where I met Mickey?I mean Michael. His mother hates it when anyone calls him Mickey. That probably explains her 'feelings' for me.But I'm ramblin’ then, aren't I? Anyways, I guess I fell fer the big darlin' fool the moment I laid eyes on him. It was in the Club 47 down on Mt. Auburn Street just off Harvard Square. A few of us were collectin' money to help the children up in Belfast that had been orphaned by the 'Troubles', and he was there with his two rowdy cousins, listenin’ to the music.

Of course I acted like I didn't even notice him, even though he gave me every last dollar in his wallet. I knew he was watchin’ me the whole time until we left and I was more than a little perturbed that he didn't even ask for my name. But what I didn't know then was that he was pretty good at findin' things out, and a few weeks later who should I see sittin’ at one of the tables I was waitin’ on in the Blue Parrot where I worked, but himself. I was pretty cool to him at first, I gotta admit. I mean, after all, there he sat with some blond chippy at his side, starin’ at me with this big foolish grin on his face.

But...well, I guess that's just somethin’ about Mickey. He can make me mad and sure does it often enough but I can never stay mad at him for long. And just between you and me, it's the makin' up as makes it all worth while. And...and well, that's all I'm gonna say about that. But if ya really want ta know why I'm so perishin’ besotted with the lad, I guess yer just gonna have to read Shadow of Innocence. Well, and it's been nice chattin' then and thank you very much.

Next of course is Mick and although he says that he doesn't really feel comfortable about expressing his feelings except to Bridget?maybe he can fill us in about how he and Bridge got involved in detective work.

Mick: Hey, what's shaking? Yeah, I guess I can tell you about that. And probably a little about me, if you’re interested. Let's see…I'm twenty-two, I've got brown hair, and these weird gray-blue eyes. I ride a BSA 650 and am totally zonked out over a cute little 5' 2" chick with the greenest eyes on either side of the Atlantic Ocean.

I'm the middle kid in our family, for whatever difference that makes. In one of my psych classes, the professor is always babbling on about how birth order runs your life and all that crap, but I don't buy it. Although I gotta admit, being raised half McCarthy and half Prescott is weird enough to fill up a psych textbook all by itself. Mom wanted me to be one of the Prescott aristocracy. And Pop? He just wanted me to be a man.

I guess that's why I never could seem to be able to figure out just what the hell I wanted to do with my life. I mean my mom and the Prescotts had it all neatly worked out. They sent me to Andover and got me into Harvard and then I was supposed to join Frankie at Hayward, Elliott & Delbert or one of the Prescott holding companies. Mom even had the perfect little wife picked out for me, one of the partners’ daughter's?Paige Elliott. Yeah, my whole life had been planned right down to the last little detail. The only part that Mom didn't plan for was the part where I got kicked out of Harvard for fighting and then the part where Pop got so pissed at me for getting kicked out that he told me, "If you love fighting so much, why don't you join the army!"

And I did.Vietnam in 1966. An all expense paid tour, courtesy of Uncle Sam. When I managed to survive three months without getting my head blown off, they made me corporal. And when Mendez, our platoon sergeant, got his blown off, they gave me his job. Strangely, even though most of it was ninety-nine percent mind-numbing boredom followed by one percent pure terror, I actually seemed to be good at it. At least that's what my guys told me. And I kept most of 'em in one piece too until that day in June on that jungle trail when everything hit the fan and...

Bridge says I've got to let it go. Keep telling myself it's over and to leave it there. And believe me, I want to. And most of the time when I'm busy and we're doing a case or I've got an interesting class oh yeah, Bridge even got me to go back to Harvard part time. You know as long as I'm busy, doing something that counts, then it's OK. It's just at night sometimes. Sometimes when I dream...they come back.

Damn! Sorry. I'm not thinking about that anymore. Anyway...oh yeah. Here's what got me thinking about 'Nam. My best friend and corporal, Smitty from Harlan County, Kentucky, has this cousin Cody, who got himself accused of murder down in Newport, Rhode Island. Seems that Cody was in a band that was playing down at the Newport Folk Festival when he met a beautiful little blond fox who just happened to be the only daughter of the most wealthy and powerful man in Newport. And everyone saw good old Cody, grinning from ear to ear, leave the club with her that night.

Sounds pretty sweet, huh? Problem was, the next morning she just happened to wind up dead. That's when I got a phone call from Smitty and that's how me and Bridge wound up taking a little trip to Newport. Man, I'll tell you, it was...ah, but you can read about the whole thing in Shadow of Innocence.

I'm getting too longwinded anyway. Just let me say that I may bitch about my family. But then, who doesn't? They're OK. But the one who really keeps my head screwed on straight?well as straight as I'm ever gonna get it is Bridge. No, I'm not gonna go all poetic and romantic on you but she is one dynamite, smart, gutsy chick. And cute as they come too. I know that most guys would think it was weird. You know, teaming up with your girlfriend on a case that can get pretty rough sometimes.

Did I mention that she's got five brothers and a father who's IRA.  And let me tell you, outside of my old squad, there's no one who I'd rather have watching my back. And come to think of it, I rather enjoy watching her back too. And  her front. Actually, I don't believe that there's single part of Miss Connolly that I don't enjoy watching. OK, now I really do have to shut up?before I dig this hole any deeper for myself. Anyway, you can get all the details in Shadow of Innocence and I can promise you, it's a wild ride.

Then of course, there's the head of the McCarthy clan, 'Big Mike' himself. But in solidarity with his son, he's deferring to his ex-wife?but more importantly, the mother of his three children the former Mrs. Michael McCarthy, Felicity Parker Prescott.

Felicity: Thank you. Well, where to begin? Let me see…as you already know, I'm Felicity Parker Prescott of the Beacon Hill Prescotts and the Back Bay and Brattle Street Parkers on my maternal side. I graduated from Radcliffe College with a degree in French Literature and took an active role in running many of the Prescott charitable foundations prior to my marriage. I suppose that I should comment on that, shouldn't I?

Well even now, I really don't feel that I have anything to reproach myself for, except perhaps a certain youthful impetuosity. I mean after all, if you had been put through the ordeal of being molested and threatened by hooligans and had feared for your very life, and then at the last moment had been heroically rescued, wouldn't you feel grateful? And if your young Galahad had been a handsome, young police officer who quite literally swept you off your feet and escorted you back to Beacon Hill well, who could blame you for becoming infatuated?

I must confess that I was just a tad bit flighty and 'spur of the moment' in those days, and perhaps when Michael asked me to marry him three weeks later, I may not have thought things through as carefully as I should have. My analyst even says that I secretly did it to spite Daddy. What nonsense. Why would I ever do that? I have always had the greatest admiration for Daddy his certainty, control and authority.

Why, I should imagine that those were some of the same qualities that I sensed in Michael. And of course the fact that he was big, strong and handsome certainly didn't hurt either. Unfortunately, the one area that Michael wasn't able to live up to Daddy's example was in business. And as much as I'll always love Michael, I won't deny that I was somewhat frustrated that he insisted on remaining a policeman even after Daddy offered to put him in charge of security for all of his Massachusetts companies. Why, he didn't even want to accept the Brattle Street house that Daddy gave us for a wedding present. Where did he expect us to live?in South Boston, for heaven sakes? As I recall, it really wasn't until we had our first child Franklin that he finally seemed to reconcile himself to living on Brattle Street.

Ah well, as the poets say, "C'est la vie.” And we did have three lovely and talented children. And I love them all dearly, of course, but well…I do have to confess that sometimes Michael Junior takes after his father just a tiny bit too much. I mean he has numerous admirable qualities. He's highly intelligent, and I don't mean to brag but all of the Prescotts and Parkers were renowned for their scholastic abilities. And he has obviously inherited his father’s courage and physical prowess, but unfortunately also his father’s temperament and reckless disregard for his own personal safety.

Oh, and one other thing and please, I don't mean for this to sound rude or snobbish, but well, how do I put this delicately? I'm afraid that Michael Junior has not inherited his father’s sense of setting his sights on a woman who exceeds his own social sphere (as his father did) or at least equal it. No, I'm afraid that Michael Junior must have some sort of throwback tendency to the McCarthys, because against all reason, breeding and advice, he seems to be utterly infatuated with a…a little Irish…waitress.

I know I should be more discreet about my feelings because Michael becomes furiously defensive about her, and apparently she does go to Radcliffe on some sort of a charity scholarship. And of course I certainly do believe in charity and good works and helping the underprivileged...but all the same, an Irish waitress? And must he insist on dragging her along with him everywhere he goes? Why, even when he's doing detective work for his father?which I am not happy about by the way he brings her with him. She was even with him in Newport when Bronwyn and I were visiting Bunny Cortland and Margaret Vanderwall. Although I suppose in all fairness I must admit that she showed herself to be remarkably resourceful during that absolutely terrifying incident in well, I've probably gone on long enough. You can read all about it in Shadow of Innocence. Toodles!  

All right, now that we've heard from Miss Felicity, let's get 'Big Mike's' take on his wife and family. Mike, would you like to refute anything that your wife said?

Michael McCarthy Sr.: If by refute, you think that I'd ever say that anything my wife and the mother of my children says isn't the gospel truth, then I'm thinking that you’d better rearrange your  thinking before I have to do it for you. Let me make this crystal clear. Anyone who ever says a bad word about Felicity is gonna find that it's a hard job picking up their teeth with broken fingers.

And everything she says about me is true as well. I've got too much pride and too short a fuse. All I can say is that I tried my best to be a good father and a good husband, even though I probably fu... ah, fouled  up most of the time. If I'm being honest, I should also admit that I knew from the start that I was outta my league. I mean, why would a classy lady like her even give a big dumb Irish cop like me a second look anyway?

Sure I rescued her from those two weasel-faced punks that were trying to rob her. Humph! Yeah, that was a good night for taking out the trash. Well, I was young then, just made detective grade and I guess I was real anxious to prove what I could do. So I went after those two with nothing but a lead shot filled sap against a .32 and a .45 automatic. But hell…truth is, one look at Felicity and I would’ve gone up against those two with a toothpick and a Dixie cup. She was that  beautiful.

Still is. Well, that's all water under the Charles River Bridge, but like I said, she's a damn fine woman.And she's right. We do have three great kids. I mean, what's not to be proud of? Frankie, I mean Franklin, is a big shot lawyer with that Delbert and Hayward crew. And Bronwyn, why she's a freshman at her Momma's school. And of course Mickey's gal Bridget goes there too. And Bonnie (that's what I used to call her when she was a little kid), is beautiful and smart. Gets that from her Momma too. But she's also got some guts and determination when the chips are down. Like in Newport.

And then there's Mickey. He's probably the most like me. And that means he's probably gonna bump up against a lot things that he's gonna need all of the smarts and guts that he got from either side of the family to handle. But that's one thing I can help him out with, and I always try my damnedest to make sure that I'm watching his back.

I know that his mother's not a hundred percent thrilled that Mickey's helping me out on some cases. She wants him to be a lawyer like his brother Frankie. But I told her it was good lawyer training for him to know his way around a booking room. She's still not really onboard with the whole thing, but after what happened in Newport…in those cellars…hell, I been a cop for over thirty years and I still don't like to think about it. Jeez! The way that sick, crazy psycho just?enough! You can read about the whole whacko thing in Shadow of Innocence. Just make sure you read it someplace with lots of people?and lots of lights on.So long.  

Well, that sounds rather ominous. But let’s see if perhaps Bronwyn has a bit cheerier perspective.

Bronwyn: Oh, wow! I mean, like I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say. Oh, about me and the family and all? Well, I'm nineteen and I'm a freshman at Radcliffe and even though my mom talked me into going there 'cause she did, I like it OK. The one thing I did insist on was that I live in the dorm and not at home. I mean after all, I lived away at boarding school and I certainly didn't want to go backwards in independence, for crying out loud.

What else? Well, I'm the youngest in the family and the only girl, so I guess I kinda get away with a lot. Well, at least with my dad and my brothers. Especially my dad. It's like poor old Pop always gets tongue tied around me. I think it's because he and Mom got divorced when I was twelve.

Mom, on the other hand, is always on my case. I mean, like I love her and all, but sometimes she can really be a major pain. You know, she gets all freaked out when I go off to a concert or hang out at a different school for the weekend. And she always thinks that all the kids I hang out with are ‘bad influences’. Unless of course, they're the 'perfect little angels' of her old fossil friends. Right. As she always says, "I prefer for you to socialize within your own social class, dear."  Oh barf! What does she think I am?still ten years old?

Do you know who I kinda wish I could be like? My brother’s girlfriend, Bridget. She's really cute and really smart and sorta like a big sister to me. The funny thing is that 'cause she's also really petite and looks kinda young, a lot of people don't take her seriously. But boy let me tell you, they're making a big mistake. I've seen her in action, down in Newport. And trust me, you don't want to get Bridget Connolly mad at you.

That's why I did all that stuff there and went with her and Marcy, even though it was the scariest, creepiest thing I've ever done. And to tell the truth, there was one point there that I really didn't think we were going to make it out alive, and all I wanted to do was, well, wait 'til you get to that part in Shadow of Innocence, you'll see.All for now. Catch you later.    

Whew! While the tone was cheerier, it doesn't seem as though the same can be said for the subject matter. Perhaps someone more business-like can shed light on the more staid side of the McCarthy family. Francis, or is it Franklin?

Francis, aka Frankie, aka Franklin: It's Franklin Prescott. Yes, I realize that I was baptized Francis McCarthy, but at twenty-one, I legally changed my name with the full support of Grandfather Prescott, I might add?to Franklin Prescott. As Mother and Grandfather correctly said, the Prescott name still opens many doors in Boston. And it most certainly did. The gilded doors to Hayward, Elliott & Delbert, for instance. And I might also add, a junior partnership that is, in the words of Stephen Delbert, "on the fast track to a full partnership”.

So perhaps I can be forgiven if I find the antics of my younger brother, and sad to say, even my father, a bit too…well, melodramatic. I mean, really. Father and son detectives? It sounds like an old movie starring Humphrey Bogart or George Raft. I'd like to see the pair of them grow up, but I really don't expect it to ever happen. So I guess I'll just have to look to my own resources in continuing the Prescott legacy and leave the rest of my swashbuckling family to their own rambunctious devices. Such as those in Shadow of Innocence. Well, you'll see what I mean when you read it. And now you'll have to excuse me. I've got a board meeting in ten minutes.

Well, I guess that just about wraps it up for the McCarthy family. So on behalf of the entire clan?what's that? Oh, sorry. Yes, yes, how could I forget 'Big Mike's' nephews and Mick's two wild cousins, Kevin and Danny McCarthy? Guys, a few words for our readers?

Danny McCarthy: A few words, huh? Yeah, sure, that'll work. So you might as well start with my kid brother Kevin, ‘cause that's about all he's got. A few words. And if you want some that are reasonably clean and more than one syllable, he's gonna have a very few words.

Kevin McCarthy: Nice mouth, kid. And after I've gone and saved yer ass more times than you got fingers and toes to count up on.

Danny McCarthy: Yeah? Well, just remember, little brother, that for every time you saved mine, I've helped you out of at least two or three bar fights when you were getting the crap pounded outta you.

Kevin McCarthy: Little brother?Jeez! Eighteen freaking months older than me and he thinks he's Elvis Presley and Ted Williams, all rolled into one.

Danny McCarthy: OK, Kevy. Enough! We're supposed to say something about us and all the stuff that went down in Shadow of Innocence. So while you try to think of something to say that doesn't start with the letter 'F', I'll kick it off.My name is Danny McCarthy. I've got one younger brother, Kevin, and 'Big Mike' is our uncle. Sometimes we help him and our cousin Mick when they got something that needs to be done. And it might not be something quite legal. Your turn, Kevin.

Kevin McCarthy: Jeez, thanks a bunch, big brother. Well, I'm Kevin McCarthy and I been gettin' the short end of the stick since 'Mr. Know-it-all' was born eighteen freaking months before me. I'm also the tough brother and can dish it as well as take it. Hey, knock it off with the wisecracks Danny or you and me are gonna go, right here and now. Anyway, like I said, my name is Kevin and my specialty is liberating muscle cars from jerks who don't know how to drive them. And helping nice objects like TV's and stereo's find a new home.

Danny McCarthy: That's freakin' great, Kevin. Why don't you just sign our names into the police blotter right now and save 'em the trouble of looking for us.Anyway, 'bright boy' aside, we really do help Uncle Mike and Mick quite a bit. Like down in Newport with the stuff that went down in Shadow of Innocence.Man, I'll tell you, that was some weird freakin’ scene. But like everyone else has said, you can read about the whole thing in Shadow of Innocence. See ya there.

I hope you've enjoyed these little profiles of the McCarthy family and I know that they're all looking forward to having you join them in the wild, scary but exciting ride that is the novel,Shadow of Innocence.

R.W.

Ric Wasley