Long Bridge Runner

Kimberly's Vanity

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Chapter 192

“Phucqueing” was on Kimberly’s mind as she sat in front of her vanity studying her face in the mirror. Friday evening, while Gurion was at Shul,* she was phucqueing Harlem Jack.  Later she gave Gurion his favorite “hot buttered buns.”

 Saturday afternoon she set out for Albion “to check on my house and get everything ready for Daniel.”  Stopping at Vincennes on the way, she checked into the hotel at Chez Dreyfus. That evening she phucqued Lawrence Lawrence twice before midnight and once again in the morning. But she was not finished with sex; Sunday night she lay awake masturbating.

And now, as she applied mascara to her eyebrows, she thought about Daniel's arrival on Monday morning with a big suitcase. Straightaway she took him to the grocery and introduced him to Mr. and Mrs. Pournelle. “Give him whatever he needs,” she said, “and put it on my account.”

 Afterwards they went to Dorsey's and had something called barbecue, but it was definitely not the real thing. Not at all like the barbecue along the Ohio and across the river in Kentucky.

 As she applied her lipstick, she remembered Daniel in the second grade at the one-room schoolhouse in Scottsville.  That was the year that changed her life, the year that Kenneth came home after being out all night and asked, “May I have a divorce, please?” 

The following day, the last day of school, she said goodbye to Daniel and never expected to see him again.  She was full of grief.

 On the way home, she remembered passing a plowman on a red tractor; and on an impulse born out of hysteria and depression, she parked her car alongside the road and masturbated for the first time in her life. The plowman got down from his tractor and had his way with her in the grass.

 As she blotted her lipstick, she realized that in all the years she had been married to Kenneth, he had never known how to make love; the plowman gave her her first climax and she had never been the same since.

 As she brushed her hair back, she thought, that was eight years ago and Gurion saved me by performing an abortion, an abortion that left me barren and transformed.

 Her affair with Lawrence Lawrence so humiliated Gurion, showed such contempt for him; that now everything had come full circle.  She talked to herself now……….. “He tells me he expects me to lay up under Harlem Jack.  I don’t know how he found out about Harlem Jack.  I hate the loss of control, I hate being told what to do; but he says, ‘If you can fuck around, you can give me sloppy seconds—at least you're turned on then, unlike the way you normally are.’”

 Of course, Kimberly didn’t know about Gurion and Sofia Polanski—didn’t know about the house he rented on Baker Street.  If she had known this, it would have taken some of the sting out.

 Now, sitting with all her makeup on, in front of her vanity, she said to the mirror, “It's unbelievable, the way I’ve brought myself down.”

 She took off her lingerie and sat studying her nudity.  She was beautiful on the outside, no doubt about it, but what about the inside, she wondered.

 The night before, after Daniel had gone to bed, she took a shower and forgetting that he was in the house, lay on the bed nude and fell asleep.  An hour later,  when Daniel got up to pee, he saw her lying there—her alabaster skin with her black hair down her back and the mystery of her dark portal. 

 This was his childhood teacher who always smelled of lilac powder.  He thought about the embrace she had given him earlier in the day, he had felt a woman up against his body and he had blushed bright red; and now as he stood staring at her, he could feel himself getting aroused.

He went back to bed and starched his sheets.  After breakfast, after he had gone to school, she changed the sheets and saw this—this disturbed her more than anything. 

As she dressed, she wondered how she could stop her obsession with sex.  “Am I becoming a nymphomaniac?” she said out loud, “How could a sweet and innocent young schoolteacher end up this way?”  She caught her reflection again in the vanity but could not look into her own eyes and for the first time since it all started, she felt a tremendous burden of guilt. 

*Yiddish for school, in this case meaning a Synagogue service.

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Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dave Rojay Show Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO and THE LONG  BRIDGE RUNNER, novels by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read David Rojay's blog, “Too Late” on Sea Street capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".

 

 

Kimberly's Gift

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Chapter 191

It was sunset when Daniel and his Uncle John arrived in Scottsville. The fields were white with snow and the village seemed magical beneath a pink clouded sky.

Molly and Sarah had set a feast for their arrival; but John said he had to get back to Fairhaven within an hour and he left with a tenderloin sandwich—not before he handed Daniel two letters that had been mailed to Fairhaven.

“You'll have to eat John’s share,” said Sarah as Daniel sat down at the table. There was tenderloin and mashed potatoes and gravy and canned corn and green beans with cranberry sauce and biscuits from the oven and for dessert a rich chocolate cake.

Daniel was pleased and he said to his grandmother, “What would you have had if I weren't here?”

Molly said, “Maybe some potato soup and a piece of jowl for your aunt.”

“We eat a lot of potatoes when you're not here,” said Sarah.

The remark was not intended to wound; but instantly Daniel realized what a burden he placed on the two women.

In the parlor, he opened the first letter—the one with a postmark from Paris.

“Dear Daniel,” it read, “I am writing you from Issy-les-Moulineaux; the city is covered with snow and it's so very, very beautiful.  I went to the Opera last night with Floresta, a friend from the 20’s. She talked about being in Paris during the War—tragic tragic; but we are still alive—smiling every day—to be alive in Paris.

You know Daniel tomorrow, before you get this letter, I will be boarding the Orient Express bound for Istanbul, Vienna, Prague, Bucharest and finally Istanbul. I so very much wish you were going with me.  I know you would enjoy the trip; and more than that, you would appreciate it. 

In the fall, I will be heading out to San Francisco; there is a new Artist Colony in the Redwoods of Marin County called Druid Heights.  I’m gonna check it out.

 I will see you at Christmas.  All my love, Florence”

The second letter was postmarked “Evansville” and Daniel was surprised to find that it was from Dr. Gurion's wife, Kimberly. Kimberly, of the lilac powder. Kimberly, the teacher that drove to Scottsville the year his parents left him at his grandmother's and taught him so many things—Prokofiev and Peter and the Wolf and the first lines of Hamlet.  She had explained how movie projectors worked; and for Christmas that year, bought him a small hand-cranked eight millimeter projector with a roll of black and white Abbott and Costello footage.  And most amazing of all—she had married Dr. Gurion, the Doctor who had saved his life when he was nine.

The letter read, “Hello, Daniel. Dr. Gurion and I heard about your problems getting from your grandmother's to High School in Albion. I have the solution to this—halfway between the High School and downtown, on the North Side of Main Street, is a blue house.  This is my house and I am enclosing the key to it; although I will be there the first Monday of next week.  This can be your home during the week and on weekends you can ride the school bus out to Scottsville and back. All your needs will be met—food etc. etc. Looking forward to seeing you, Kimberly”

Daniel went to sleep that night, smiling from ear to ear; he could relieve the burden that he was on his Grandmother and Great Aunt. He had noticed all along how they had aged and how they seemed to be waiting for something—just passing time.  The house, the farm and everything they possessed was part of another time, a better time.  For now, they were simply caretakers……………….. living out their destiny.

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Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dave Rojay Show Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO and THE LONG  BRIDGE RUNNER, novels by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read David Rojay's blog, “Too Late” on Sea Street capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".

 

 

THE KISS

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Chapter 190

It was so dark he could not tell whether he was on the road or beside it. He had been there for forty minutes standing in wet slush with snow blowing in his face; he was freezing.

Then suddenly,  to his left, out of the west—headlights. He backed up and almost fell into the ditch as the car stopped beside him. The passenger window came down and a voice called out, “Get in.”

He was in the car before he realized it was his Uncle John.

“What are you doing out here?” John asked.

“My ride didn't show up and I had to walk.”

“You walked all the way from the farm to the highway?”

“That's right,” Daniel said through shivering teeth.

“You'll be lucky if you don't catch pneumonia,” said his Aunt Alta.

Daniel leaned his head back in the new Kaiser.  “Beautiful car,” he whispered.

“I just bought it from Edgar York.”

“Does he have a daughter named Shauna?”

“That's right, pretty little girl.”

Daniel smiled knowingly.  After a minute he said, “I'm surprised you made the trip with all the snow.”

“Well it's not snowing in Fairhaven; we just ran into the snow, back a piece.”

______________________________________________________________________________

The twelve miles to Albion evaporated and Daniel ran to the band room where Mr. Copley was waiting for him and realized immediately what Daniel had gone through.

“I have a pair of dry socks in my horn case,” Daniel said as he stripped off his wet clothing and put on the band uniform.  The white bucks made it complete.

“Do I have time to warm up?” he asked.

“No,” said Mr. Copley, “we’re already fifteen minutes late.”

And so Daniel followed the band director out into the auditorium. The band was already seated and an announcement had been made that everyone was waiting for Daniel, so his face was red with embarrassment as he started to his chair; but the band director said, “Stand right here behind the mic.” Then without warning he turned and began to direct A Trumpeters Lullaby.

Daniel put his mouthpiece to his lips but no sound came out; his lips were frozen. The conductor stopped the band and Daniel leaned into the microphone and said, “I'm sorry I'm late; I had to walk half the way here and I'm frozen solid, my lips are frozen.”

 There was an auditorium full of silence but out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see Donna Abbingon set her flute down as she stood up and began to walk toward him.  He saw her eyes in front of his own and then she embraced him and put her mouth on his lips and began to kiss him gently. 

Silence in the auditorium gave way to nervous laughter and giggles and then the entire crowd stood and applauded.  The kiss was magic; his lips melted into the mouthpiece and he played The Trumpeters Lullaby perfectly with an open fat tone. This earned a standing ovation.

Next, he led the trumpet section through Buglers Holiday and finally at the end of a concert that included the entire score of Carousel he played La Virgin del la Macarena, the Mexican bullfight song that he had learned from a recording by Rafael Mendez. The entire auditorium rose in appreciation.

In the meantime, John had called Molly, his mother, and told her that he was taking Daniel back to Fairhaven.

It was the first time Daniel had seen his Uncle Thomas’ new house. “You see, it has patterned plaster, and hardwood floors and every room has a sliding glass door except the front room. And out here,” said Thomas as he opened the kitchen sliding door, “is a flat-stone patio; and beyond that we’ll put in a pool when spring comes.”

After the tour, Aunt Alta made Daniel a bowl of cereal with strawberries, blueberries, sliced bananas, pieces of dates and figs and sliced almonds. “This will keep you regular,” she said.

“That's right,” said John, “first thing in the morning you’ll take a healthy shit. Oh, by the way, the second bathroom will be yours.”

And with that, Daniel was ushered into his bedroom, a nice size room with a nice size bed and robin-egg blue walls. It was the first real bed Daniel had slept in since Evansville.  He slept soundly, dreaming of Donna and her sweet kiss.

In the morning, after breakfast, he was taken on a tour of the subdivision his uncle was building. “There are forty homes here and they're all finished except for carpeting and some paint. That is, except for the three down here on the end.”

A squad of Carpenters were working on the last three homes. Daniel walked into the first one which smelled of sawdust and the fumes of freshly sawed two by fours.

“Anytime you want a job here, just let me know and you can get in town away from that farm and that one-horse school.  The only problem with this whole thing—this whole subdivision—is that across the street from my house there is a run-down church—a Pentecostal Church.  I can sit on my front porch and look right down the aisle to the pulpit—at least in hot weather.  That’s when the preacher preaches right at me because right beside my lawn chair is a case of cold beer that I’m drinking down as he speaks. 

Sooner or later we’re gonna get ‘em out of here.  He calls me a sinner and says I’m going to hell and the whole congregation turns around, leans out in the aisle and stares at me; that’s when I give ‘em my middle finger.  Of course, they always close the doors then; it’s like a ritual and I really don’t give a damn because in hot weather they don’t have air conditioning and that church gets just like an oven—speaking of hell.”

______________________________________________________________________________

 It was a bright sunny day and not so cold as they rode downtown to the Courthouse Square. John parked in front of a sign that said Staff Only and led Daniel up the stairs of the Courthouse to a large office with a counter and four globe lights hanging from the ceiling.  A large blond-haired man sat behind a desk. “John Dickens,” he said as he stood and shook hands.

“Daniel... your mother's cousin—Daniel Dickens.”

“I know,” said Daniel, “I remember when you came home from the War; you came down Griffith Street, you were limping, you had been shot in the leg.”

Daniel Dickens laughed at this, “I've seen you since then.” he said, “you came to dinner at my dad’s one Christmas.”

“That's right,” said Daniel, “Cousin Alicia was there and she played the piano.”

“That's right, that's right,” said the older Daniel in a jovial manner.  Your uncle tells me you're stuck out in the country with Molly and Sarah. How would you feel about running an antique store? I know you're a bright boy and I'm looking for someone to run my antique store.”

“I don't really know much about antiques,” said Daniel.

“That’s okay, I've got a really good lady working there; she's been with me for almost twenty years.”

“Don't you work there?”

“Oh, not that much; I have my farm to look after.  You were down to my farm.”

“It's a pig farm, right?  And you had a big bull in the pen by the road.”

“Now you're remembering everything; but my other job is County Clerk, this is a County Clerk’s office,” and with that John led the way back down the stairs with Daniel and the elder Daniel in tow.

“We'll go to the antique store and I'll show you around and then I'll take you to Robb’s for some coffee and pie,” he said.

Daniel didn’t expect the antique store to be so grand.  Mrs. Applebee explained, “We advertise in the Journal of Midwestern Antiques and we get a lot of business from all over the Midwest.” 

“We go to estate sales,” said Daniel Dickens, “We go to St. Louis, Memphis, Paducah and Evansville.”

“And don’t forget Vincennes,” said Mrs. Applebee, “It’s an old French town.”

“And speaking of French towns,” said Dickens, “a great source of French antiques is Gallipolis, Ohio.  It was inhabited by refugees from the French Revolution.  Thus, the name Gaul-i-polis.”

“I didn’t know you had such a big operation,” said John. 

“Well, we have a buyer and two drivers outside of the store so we do all right.”

Daniel was shown some Chippendale chairs, a large croisant vase from China, a Shaker rocking chair, a Thomas Howells cabinet, and an Ansel Adams photograph (quite recent).

Daniel Dickens went on to say, “Your Great-Aunt, Sarah, owned a Notions Store over on Main Street from 1895 until World War I broke out and she took most of her inventory out into the country.”

“I know,” said Daniel, “she still has a big building beside the house full of stuff.” 

“Look, I’ve got a journal here of some of what I bought from her.  There were Raphael Tuck cards (the very best), a piano bisque by Hibbett, Hynaboloney and Sterling umbrella handles, cameos from seashell, coral and lava, and Samuel Clark pyramid candles (The Burglars' Horror), Tiffany lamps, Thomas Lester lace and a Battenberg Cape.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“That’s quite a place,” Daniel said when he was back in the car with his uncle.

They were following Daniel Dickens to Robb’s Coffee Shop.  Once the three of them were in a booth, Daniel Dickens looked the younger Daniel in the eye and said, “You know, if you don’t want to stay around Fairhaven, your hometown—and I can understand that—the only thing is, and I believe your Uncle John would agree with this; it doesn’t seem as if your parents really want you and you’re stuck out there with Molly and Sarah hitchhiking to high school.  You know, that’s no good.  I talked to John about this, and what you can do…………”

“What you can do,” said John, “is join the Army.  The war’s over in Korea and they have programs that’ll put you through college, give you a chance to get your bearings.”

“The only problem,” said Daniel, “is I won’t be seventeen until September.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” said John, “I know a County Clerk that will get you a birth certificate for any age you want it to be.”

Daniel looked at his second cousin and received a great big wink.

Daniel tried to focus on what they were saying and concentrate on his blueberry pie but Shauna York and her mother had just walked through the café’s front door.  Shauna sat facing Daniel somewhat puzzled that Daniel Autrey would be sitting with two of the town’s leading citizens.  Her mother turned around and waved at both men with a friendly gesture. 

The pie lodged in Daniel’s throat and he coughed and gagged with embarrassment.  When he looked up from the pie that he had spit out, Shauna and her mother were approaching the booth.  Both men stood up in respect.  John, who had just bought a new Kaiser from Shauna’s father said, “I’d like for you ladies to meet my nephew.”

At the same time, Daniel Dickens said, “I’ve been trying to get him to run my antique store; his mother and I are cousins.”

A look of amazement crossed Shauna’s face and she held out her hand as if to a total stranger and said, “It’s very nice to meet you, Daniel.”

Her hand was warm and soft and moist and she squeezed Daniel’s hand ever so slightly. 

Later, in his uncle’s car as they approached Scottsville, Daniel thought that if he were really Jewish, the way Rabbi Tannenbaum said he was, his days would start at sundown.*  In other words, the beautiful day now ending would have started with a kiss.

*Jewish days start after sundown

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Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dave Rojay Show Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO and THE LONG  BRIDGE RUNNER, novels by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read David Rojay's blog, “Dear Mitt” on Sea Street capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".

 

 

PRAYERS

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Chapter 189

The white bucks looked pretty good considering that they had been worn to several band events.  Normally they would be in a locker at Albion High, but Daniel had brought them home to be polished.

His grandmother watched as he worked and he looked up to say, “You know. I was supposed to have a pair of bucks at the beginning of the school year, but I didn't have enough money for them and my mom said that they couldn't afford to buy me white bucks, so she put white shoe polish on a pair of old shoes saying, ‘they'll be fine for a football game’ but it rained that night and all of the polish came off and the Band Director got really mad and he called mom and yelled at her.”

“What do you mean your mom couldn't afford to buy you a pair of white shoes?”

“Well I'm a supposed to pay for all my clothing out of my newspaper route earnings; I just didn't have enough that time.”

“For the life of me I can't see how your parents, who live in Country Club Manor, have two new cars, a swimming pool, a boat and an airplane can’t buy you a pair of shoes.”

Daniel looked at his grandmother, shook his head and laughed.

Carl was supposed to pick Daniel up at five forty-five but by six fifteen he was half an hour late and Daniel began to worry about making it to the concert before eight o’clock.

More than once, Molly had rung the telephone for Carl’s place—two shorts and a long; but there was no answer.

Finally, Daniel said, “I think I'll get going and maybe I'll run into him on the road.”

“But, my boy, it's snowing like crazy out there; it's freezing cold.”

“I know, but I can't be late; I'm the soloist tonight,” and so he set out with his horn case in one hand and his white bucks in a paper bag in the other. 

The road was slushy with snow and he immediately got his feet wet; but he relied on an old technique to keep going. When he had run a cross-country race at Baker Street School, he played marches in his head to keep his cadence up and now he recited The Charge of the Light Brigade to keep his mind occupied. 

He thought about all the years that he had delivered papers in Evansville on freezing winter mornings; this kind of cold was nothing compared to that and when those thoughts didn't block out the cold, he thought about what his grandmother and Aunt Sarah would be doing.

They had made fudge before he left and he had wrapped two large pieces in waxed paper and put them in his trumpet case.  Alongside the fudge was another knife that was also wrapped in wax paper.  The old ladies were still looking for the knife he lost when he was attacked by a calf.  “But I thought it was the panther,” he said to himself as he laughed at the memory of this.   

Back in Scottsville, his Aunt Sarah would be sitting in front of the tabletop Zenith with her ear against the speaker listening to Lum and Abner or the Great Gildersleeve.  Between programs, she would go to her room and draw on a fifth of Jack Daniels.

Likewise, his grandmother, who sat reading the Christian Science Monitor—a gift from Aunt Florence—would retreat to her room and take sips of the Courvoisier that Florence had brought her from Boston.

Halfway to the highway, Daniel realized that these ploys were not working; he was freezing through and through and had over a mile left to go. No one had come along the road that would have given him a ride and when he passed Carl's place, the lights were out and the car was gone.

The next best hope was the Allison place; but when he got there, the house seemed deserted.  It was a half a mile to the highway and he began to jog, hoping that he could generate some body heat.

Standing beside the highway, he retrieved his pocket watch but could not read it in the dark.  “Why didn't I bring flashlight,” he asked himself, “it must be at least seven o'clock.”

Forty minutes later, he was still facing west where any potential ride would come from. Two trucks had passed, splashing him with slush, some of which was still on his face.  He was drained of any thought or feeling as he stared into the black abyss.  “I must not lose hope,” he told himself, “I must not lose hope.”

Back in Scottsville, the old ladies had made pilgrimages to the parlor window looking out at the whirling snow.  “I wonder if Daniel's ok?” said Molly.  

Sarah responded by saying, “He’ll be just fine; he’ll be just fine.”

But the second time they went to the window and looked out, Sarah did not give reassurance; and so they went into the living room and stood under the light in front of the heater.  Sarah held the hand of her little sister as they looked into one another's eyes—eyes full of fear; and then they bowed their heads and prayed, “Dear Lord --------------------.”

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Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dave Rojay Show Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO and THE LONG  BRIDGE RUNNER, novels by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read David Rojay's blog, “Dear Mitt” on Sea Street capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay".

 

 

GURION?S HAREM

Copyright 1995
By David Rojay
THE LONG BRIDGE RUNNER
Book One/THE MIDWEST

Chapter 188

Kimberly looked up at Harlem Jack’s blackness and saw the grin on his face; the “I'm having so much friggin’ pleasure” grin.

He was filling her up totally, pushing against the limits of what she could take. It was slightly painful in the most pleasing way.

They had F -- -- --ed about a dozen times, enough times so that Kimberly could actually  F -- -- -- and think at the same time.  She thought about how she looked under him, absorbing him into her voluptuous whiteness. And as she watched herself with her mind’s eye, she could hear herself moaning and screaming and screaming and moaning.

“What a spectacle this is,” she thought, “little Kimberly being rendered helpless, not just by the big Negro but by her own savage passion.”

“Will I ever get tired of this?” she asked herself through a roar of laughter.  Now she had her hands on his shoulders and then on the small of his back and finally on his buttocks, pulling them into her.  She had no control now, she was on a roller coaster—flying, dropping, hurtling to a climax and when it came with a roar, her whole body opened up and poured itself all over Harlem Jack.

His breathing quickened, his thrust became faster and harder, nothing would stop him, nothing in the world; and she loved it, loved it because it made her feel like a natural woman. When he covered her with his release, she knew that when it came to sex she belonged to him.  This realization frightened her and hurried her into dressing and running home to Gurion.

______________________________________________________________________________

 But Gurion would not be home, he had rented a row house on Baker Street and spent the day shopping for used furniture at Herschel Schmitz’s store.  Herschel belonged to the Orthodox Synagogue so he did not know Gurion.  In addition, Gurion went to Goldman’s and bought a seventeen-inch TV with rabbit ears.  Everything had been moved and put in place by four o'clock—an hour before the sun went down.

Sophia was thrilled with it all and made an elaborate declaration in Polish.

She walked to the store at the end of the alley beside the house and bought white Wonder Bread and mayonnaise and mustard and lunchmeat of three kinds and a box of Velveeta Cheese and three cans of baked beans and a jar of pickles and a carton of Coca-Cola and an assortment of candy bars. Gurion had gone out for Chinese food so she had food for tomorrow.

While he was gone, she took a bath and rinsed herself off with the rubber shower spout.

Standing in front of the doorway mirror, she studied her naked body; it was okay----maybe better than 0K.

After the Chinese food and making love successfully for the first time in ages, Gurion drove home; he smiled at himself, he would go home and once again enjoy whatever leftovers Kimberly had to offer.  He didn’t care what Kimberly did, there was a new fire in his belly; but as time passed, the image of Anna danced on the car’s hood.

“My love,” he heard himself say; and as he knew she still lay among the ashes at Auschwitz, a great bellowing moan welled up inside of him and came roaring out like the sound of an animal, and as he drove on he murmured, “Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna, Anna……….. Anna.”

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Be sure to watch David Rojay on The Dave Rojay Show Saturday night at 9:30 on Channel 17. Read A RED STATE HERO and THE LONG  BRIDGE RUNNER, novels by David Rojay on capecodtoday.com. Read David Rojay's blog, “Dear Mitt” on Sea Street capecodtoday.com and finally check out David Rojay on YOUTUBE. For more information, Google "David Rojay". Okay this situation this situation persisted through the fall this situation persisted through the fall and I get anything here Karen