He told him so. The old man said if you marry that girl you’ll regret it. Said, she’s not one of us. Told the boy that over and over again. But, he went off and did it. They took off to the court house and became husband and wife. Passed the blood test, got the marriage certificate, the whole bit. Even had a girl there to throw rice at em on the courthouse lawn as they came down the steps. Drove off in a ’67 Dodge Dart. Green colored. A four door. Bought it off some Catholic priest for $500. Took off for Chicago. More than a honeymoon, that’s where they decided to live. Moved to some part of town called Canaryville. Out by the truck stop and the stockyards. White trash neighborhood. He told him so.

Boy never listened to the old man. He’d laugh at him. The old man would sit there in his Lazy-Boy yelling about the Clintons. What a mess they made of this country. He hated the whole family. The mother, brother, Hillary, even their daughter. The dad said he could tell she was up to no good. Said we hadn’t had a good man in office since Nixon. Look what they did to him, the old man said. They crucified him. Burned him at the stake. Stripped him of his dignity, he said. You’d think they’d have a little respect, the dad said, then go on mumbling about something else on the news. Price of gas, food, beer. The old man commented on it all. Boy just sat there and laughed.

The old man told him not to marry her. Said, if your mom was alive. She’d have a heart attack. You’d be the cause of your own momma’s death. Not too sure that you weren’t, he said to him. All that screwing around you did in high school. And now you go off and marry some colored girl, dad said. And a baby on top of it, he shook his head.

Well, best of luck to you, father laughed. But, don’t come back here for nothing. Don’t come back here when those Polacks and Irish start making fun of you and your family. Don’t blame me. I told you so.