Tenure Track by Victoria Bradley Read Free Book Online Page B

his life had been inextricably linked to several major historical events. He explained to the two intrigued historians how his mother, a Ukrainian Jew, had survived Stalinist-caused famines only to spend years one step ahead of Nazi death squads, fighting first with the Jewish resistance, then with the Red Army. “Fascinating!” Perry beamed, pressing for more details. Mark’s father was a fifth-generation New Yorker who met his mother in Germany during the waning days of the Allied Liberation. “A war bride! How romantic!” Perry chimed.
    Mark talked about his middle-class Brooklyn neighborhood, years of Hebrew school and even his bar mitzvah. Perry guffawed approvingly at the details. “Mazel Tov!” he shouted, raising his glass. “I have no idea what that means, but it’s the only Jewish phrase I know.”
    As Mark digressed into mini-Yiddish lessons for Dr. Waters, Jane tried to redirect the conversation back to his story by informing Perry that the Math professor had also been in the Peace Corps. As expected, Perry started quizzing him for anecdotes. Mark declared somewhat melodramatically, “Aah, I went overseas an idealistic Kennedy youth and returned a radical. Well, more like a voyeur of radicals.”
    Perry seemed a bit disappointed to discover that Mark had not been among the anti-war protesters beaten by Chicago police on national television. “No, I was proudly cowering at home, writing proofs and shouting ‘Right on, Man!’ into the TV,” Mark claimed with a pumped fist. “But I did know several people who were there. Abbie Hoffman was a jerk, though! Bogarted all the good drugs.”
    Before Perry could tuck away this piece of potentially salacious information, Jane burst his bubble by pointing out that Dr. Straussman seemed too much of a health nut to have ever put illegal substances into his body. “Oh, phooey!” the diminutive man expressed. “Well, I bet it’s true of Abbie, anyway.”
    Mark leaned in. “Well, I never met him personally, but I know people who did, and they swear it’s true.”
    “ Good enough!” Perry exclaimed triumphantly. Jane shook her head as the two gentlemen egged each other on.
    “ I was at Chicago’s first Earth Day celebration!” Mark volleyed. “Does that count as activism?”
    “ Aaah, a nature lover!” Perry lobbed.
    “ Card-carrying member of the Sierra Club,” Mark admitted satisfactorily.
    “ You Communist!” Perry chided. “Oh, we’d better watch our step with this one, Janey or we’ll be marked as Pinkos, too.”
    “ Don’t let Mama Straussman hear you say that,” Mark replied, explaining that his naturalized mother was a vehement anti-Communist who thought Nixon’s overtures to the Soviets were worse than his actions in Watergate. Thus the conversation segued into the latest Cold War developments and myriad other topics that seemed to last for hours. On that day, none of the three Baby Boomers would have predicted the Cold War’s peaceful end. Then again, they could not have imagined much that would transpire over the next 32 years, including how intertwined their lives would become.
    That simple cocktail conversation planted seeds of a surrogate family. The youthful Perry was like an abandoned puppy begging to be loved. Almost against her will, Jane felt a maternal urge to protect the diminutive man who revealed very little about his own life while quizzing them extensively on theirs. She adopted him on the spot. Not until the birth of the twins did Dr. Waters relinquish his role as first son, finally maturing into more of a quirky uncle.
    As for Mark, despite his homely looks, the quick wit and down-to-earth demeanor proved quite charming. Jane concluded that he was not someone she would ever date, but perhaps he could become a good friend. At least he was someone she could talk to whenever she felt homesick for New York, even if he was from Brooklyn. He struck her as the type of guy who would probably make a fine husband for some