"Ask me about the Klan a week from Friday. I'll know more then than I do today. Next Thursday I have an appointment for an interview with Tom Metzger, Grand whatever-he-is of the California Klan."
"Is he coming here?"
"No, I'm going over to his house."
"Has he ever seen you?"
"Does he know...?"
My brother Henry called that Friday night from Chino. Uncle Arbria and Aunt Viola had arrived. I had been expecting them. The Dodgers were meeting the Yankees in New York in the first game of the World Series the following Tuesday. Uncle Arbria sounded a bit tired. They had come by bus, so Vi would really get to see some of the country. Yes, they had enjoyed it, but they would most likely fly back. They weren't as young as they once were. Yes sir, he'd known all along that "the boys" would beat the Phillies. The Phils just didn't have as good a club. Nice bunch of fellas, though. The Yankees? Shoot, the Yankees shouldn't have beat the Royals. They might be able to buy the American League pennant, but not the World Series! No sir. Don and the boys played too good a ball. He just hoped the Series would last more than four games. It would be better for baseball that way. Yes sir, he was going to see the boys when he was in town, oh yes. He expected that he might be able to get some tickets for a game or two. He had the clubhouse phone number and he had Don's home address. He would get Henry to drive him out to the ball park. It would be good to see them again.
I told him that I would try to see him during the weekend, but I wasn't sure I would have the time. I had a speaking engagement Sunday. I had to prepare the speech Saturday, had an early class Monday morning, but I would definitely come up soon.
He paid me no mind, chuckling that if a man his age could come as far as he had to see his nephew, he knew that his nephew could find time to drive up the highway to see him. He needed a large, earthen urn and as many jugs as I could find. He was going to make some "punch" for my brother and me.