he would get in our car while it was still in the garage, and not until then would I lift the door up and we back out. I called him Mr. President sometimes as it seemed like we were protecting the president of the United States. When someone came to our home unannounced, he would go to his bedroom and shut the door and didn’t come out until they were gone. I guess they say you don’t really know someone until you live with them, so some positive, interesting things became apparent as new conversations were held over this time. One important factor being that Byron had received several war medals from his service during Vietnam: a medal of commendation from the United States Air Force and another medal for twenty-seven combat missions in Vietnam. A medal was awarded for the completion of twenty-five missions, but he went beyond the twenty-five. (A sidenote here was that the prosecutor, Pete Orput, had stated to the jury during trial that these medals were merely ribbons acknowledged for service.) Byron didn’t talk about that part of his life much, but he was proud that he served four years in the Air Force. With his sixteen years of service with the State Department, that allowed him to receive a full government pension that fulfilled the requirement of twenty years. He talked most about this college life in San Luis Obispo, where he graduated from Cal Poly. He was the member of the ski club and they went on different trips and partied as college kids do. He was telling me one day that they ordered beer by the palette for these trips. He had a California ID that showed his age as ten years younger than he actually was. It made him fit in better, and no one was the wiser. It was actually the DMV’s fault anyway. They had typed the year of his birthdate wrong, and it went uncorrected until the next time he renewed his license. Most young people would want to have an ID to be older, but he had one to be younger. He was in his thirties when he attended this California college, so by being twenty instead of thirty made him feel better. He also attended college at the University of Minnesota and then later decided to finish his degree at Cal Poly. His degree was actually in physical science, but his minor was electrical engineering, and his love of electronics got him the job with the State Department. He was proud of the fact that he had paid for his own education without the assistance of his parents. He talked fondly of his college days and his friend and roommate, Greg. He talked of going back to California and spending next winter there at his friend Mark’s cabin in the mountains of California. Mark was a good friend from Cal Poly, and his father was a forensic psychologist. Byron was amused by the fact that he had two good friendships with forensic psychologists as he was a small-town boy from Little Falls whom no one would ever think would have those connections. He dated a couple of times but didn’t have an interest in any one woman. He did tell me once that he had always wanted to get married, but it just never happened. Since his work demanded he live in a new country every three years, it made long-lasting relationships challenging. It’s too bad, because he would have made a great dad and things would have turned out very different for him. Byron volunteered for military service in 1968 and was inducted on April 21. He attended basic training in Amarillo for eight weeks and was transferred to Denver to technical training. He qualified for a forty-eight-week course in one of the most complicated and critical systems—the bombing and navigation systems of the B-52. Airman Smith worked at Fairchild AFB for one year and then volunteered for duty in Vietnam. There Sergeant Smith volunteered for combat mission in-flight support. His work was comprised of in-flight repairs on older, heavily used equipment. Most bombing flights occurred at thirty-five thousand feet, where SAM missiles and MIG fighters were encountered and could not be replicated on the ground. Half of the men who tried out to be a launch technician dropped out due to failure or stress of the flight or not making the minimum number of flights to qualify. Sergeant Smith volunteered to extend his combat duty from twelve to eighteen months. He made twenty-seven flights, exceeding the required minimum of twenty-five to be awarded the Air Combat Medal. He was also awarded the Personal Commendation Medal.
He is an easy houseguest. He is very quiet, does his own laundry, and spends very little time in the bathroom. (As a woman fighting for bathroom time, this is a great attribute.) He combs his hair quickly, brushes teeth, and is done, with no fussing about his look. I made a comment one day on how he should strive to look his best, always, and he commented, “For who?” When he first moved in, he wore the same green shirt for days until I bought him a new one for a Christmas gift. Then he wore that one for a few days. He prefers no scents, perfumes, or aftershave colognes. One day he received his credit report in the mail and asked me what he thought his credit score was. I really had no idea, but I assumed it was a high number. The score was 820. He received a report because he had applied for a credit line for his rental property just in case he needed the extra money. He has moved into our extra bedroom and keeps his files with his mail and court papers in a file chest. He spends much time on paperwork: gathering receipts for insurance claims from all the things that has been stolen from his home. He makes and sends copies of news articles of interest to his attorney or investigator. He studies Minnesota statutes as he is desperately trying to catch the neighbors who own the adjacent property to him, breaking as many laws as possible—even videotaping the Stop sign and speeding violations. He stated one day that their three vehicles have run the Stop sign on Elm Street more than ten times each. He makes his bed neatly every day. He has everything neatly folded and organized. He does not usually get up in the morning until after I have already gone to work. He eats rather light, but has a huge sweet tooth. Just as I was getting into the habit of not eating so many sweets, he likes dessert after every meal. He said they usually had dessert as he was growing up. I am amazed that he doesn’t weigh more because of his huge sweet tooth. John has been gone most nights now that it is ice-fishing season. I was a little uncomfortable with this arrangement and told John that he should stay home due to our new houseguest. But John’s reason for existence is ice fishing! He considers Byron the new protector for his family. (Last year we didn’t have a protector, so this is a new concept.) One night, shortly after he moved in, I suddenly awoke to hear Byron talking to someone in the middle of the night, possibly on the phone, I wasn’t sure. I heard him open his bedroom door, which he always closes for the night, and was talking with someone. I couldn’t understand some of his words, but what I did hear alarmed me. I heard him say, “Have you come to apologize for breaking my window?” He wasn’t talking upset or angry, but saying this in a quiet tone, like he normally talks. After that I heard his door close again and couldn’t understand the rest of his words, but he was still talking to someone in his usual tone of voice, not an angry or upset voice, but a kind, mentor-type voice. This incident startled me because I wasn’t aware that he was a sleepwalker, but the words I heard made it very clear that he was dreaming about the break-in. Finally, it became quiet, but I had trouble falling back to sleep, wondering if he would wake again or what other dreams or even nightmares would occur. When morning came, he was up before I left, so I asked him if he was a sleepwalker. He said he didn’t think so and quickly changed the subject. I never brought it up again and it never happened again.
The next Friday I took the day off from work to go to Minneapolis. Byron had mentioned that he wanted to take a day trip to go to Trader Joe’s and a tool shop. He thought John might appreciate this huge tool store near Plymouth.
The first stop was Acme Tools. I was actually the only person that bought anything. I had been looking for something to cut slabs of candlewax with and they had the perfect tool there. The next stop was a woodworking place where I purchased new guides for dresser drawers. Byron had been using this dresser and the drawers had broken guides, so we found some nice replacements so the drawers will slide smoothly. I needed an hour of mall time, so we headed to Ridgedale Mall. I needed to find a gift for my daughter’s birthday and my mom’s birthday, which are two days apart. Byron wanted to purchase a new cell phone, so he would go to the T-Mobile store while Dilan and I did a little shopping. Next, we headed to lunch. He wanted to go to the Mexican area in South St. Paul. He had taken us down there before to eat authentic Mexican cuisine at one of his favorite restaurants. When Dilan’s band had played at Station 4, Byron had driven down that day to hear them, so we all went out to dinner after they played. Although authentic Mexican is not my first preference, it was very good. We were the only non-Mexicans in the whole restaurant. John and Byron ordered the buffet and it looked like food I had never seen before: cow stomach lining, etc. I played it safe and ordered fajitas, and Dilan ordered tacos. John, who typically can eat anyone under the table at a buffet, ate two bowls of the soup and decided the food wasn’t for him. Working our way back toward home, we
