“Then the decision is made,” Randy agreed.
“Are we being selfish?” Nora gulped. “I don’t want to give up my baby, and you’re holding out for West Point…not as subtly as you might think either. In the meantime, are we holding Grant back?”
“Grant will be just fine,” Randy insisted. “Maybe you ought to just pull him out of school and find him a private tutor.”
“No,” Nora insisted. “Call me an eternal optimist, but I think that school will do Grant good.”
Grant was never a disruption during class; instead, he spent most of his time sitting in his desk with his nose buried in a book he had brought from home. Though his teacher desired to challenge him, she was busy trying to accommodate the other twenty-two children in her classroom.
Otto and Ludwig wrote letters as they had promised, but their words only served to make Grant miss them more. Ludwig wrote letters that went on for pages. He told magnificent stories penned in neatly written German, and, as Grant read them, he could practically hear his old friend reading them to him.
During the summer, while Grant was in Prague with Otto, he had fallen in love with cousin Ulrich’s housekeeper. She was a portly, middle-aged woman named Rayna who was so irreverently funny that she kept the witty old men on their toes. Ulrich was the only family she had, and nothing delighted her more than the idea of having a child around the house for the summer. She could not imagine a more affable little darling than the sandy-haired boy whose lucid smile and understated dimples tugged at her heartstrings. Every night, as Grant sat cuddled next to her, Rayna translated fascinating stories from her great-grandfather’s journal. He had been an incredibly wise and insightful man; his writings were so detailed that every sense was stimulated, as though you were right there with him on his adventures. He had written about everything from his views on politics to his childhood memories of growing up in a dirt poor, working class family. Rayna had never met her great-grandfather, but the journal had been passed down to her from her father, and it remained her greatest treasure.
Grant had thought about Rayna a great deal since arriving back in the states. All summer she had called him Master Grant, in her heavily accented English, and it still made him smile every time he thought about it. He remembered how excited she had been to show him the famous landmarks of her country and how, at night, he looked forward to hearing more of the journal. When the time came for the two of them to say goodbye, Rayna sobbed openly as she held Grant close to her bosom. She pointed a short, pudgy finger in Otto’s direction, warning him to take proper care of her young friend. Grant didn’t know if he would ever get back to Prague to visit Rayna, but he knew he would never forget her fieriness, the feistiness with which she popped Ulrich’s hand when he reached for dinner before it came off the stove, the huskiness of her voice, the volumes she spoke with a simple raise of her eyebrow. As Grant left, he waved to her for as long as he could see her, and, as her heavyset silhouette disappeared into the distance, he turned around and sank down into his seat, biting his bottom lip as he stared at the seat in front of him.
It was an unforgettable summer, and, at the end of August, when Otto and Ludwig took Grant to the airport to catch his flight home, he feared he would never see his two best friends ever again. He sat in his airplane seat, his little legs dangling over the edge as he looked out the window, wondering if he would have any luck making friends in North Carolina.
During a quick stop in Stockholm that summer, Otto had taken Grant into a small, corner bookstore. Shelves and shelves of old books were stacked to the ceiling. They were arranged in no particular order; the floors creaked; the air was musty, but both Otto and his pint-sized companion had looked at one another to acknowledge that they had discovered where they would spend the rest of the day. Library time at school, on the other hand, consisted of thirty minutes every two weeks, twenty-five of which were spent sitting on a rug away from the bookshelves listening to the librarian go over library rules, eagerly awaiting your group’s turn to go on a five minute search for the one book that you would check out until your class returned to the library two weeks later. The selection was trivial at best, but Grant occasionally found an interesting biography that he finished before day’s end.
During the year that Randy was away, Nora prayed daily for his safe return. She also made sure that Grant stayed busy to keep his mind off of his father’s absence and his attention off of news reports out of the Middle East. He played on multiple basketball teams in North Carolina and, by year’s end, had made several new friends in his teammates. The boys would run and play together, and, after several months of demanding basketball schedules, the letters to Germany became few and far between. Grant actually looked forward to going back to school at summer’s end, but when Randy returned home, he brought news of a move, and, before school started the following year, Grant found himself saying goodbye to new friends he would never see again and preparing to begin a new life, a world away from North Carolina…in Japan.
During the time that Randy was gone, Nora had also taken on full-time responsibility for Emily. Though Rachel loved Emily, she thought that it was best for her daughter to remain with Nora, as she had given up hopes of being able to support her either financially or emotionally. When Emily was with Nora and Randy, she felt secure in a way that she had not at Rachel’s apartment. Within a matter of a few short weeks, the once timid, stringy-haired little girl who had become accustomed to being ignored had blossomed into a bubbly extrovert, confident in herself and one hundred percent assured that she was loved.
Nora knew very little about Randy’s current job description, only that he constantly seemed to find new ways to busy his mind. He was a brilliantly talented officer with a network of connections and a wounded heart that no assignment would heal. He was looking for something to fill the void he felt in his life. He needed something to do. He needed to do great things; he needed to matter. He needed to use his skills and the wisdom of his experience to save lives. He had put his life on the line in the line of duty; he had saved countless lives, but what haunted him was the one life he couldn’t save. As an officer he was taught to make quick, informed decisions. He was entrusted with critical choices in critical moments. He had dealt with life and death situations on a daily basis. He was good at what he did, but he had never figured that the most critical choice of his life would come as a result of the most impossible decision he was ever faced with…and he never could have imagined that the decision wouldn’t happen on a battlefield, but a back road in rural North Carolina.
Grant and Emily were both enrolled in an International School in Japan. Nora was pleased with the curriculum and the school’s focus on each child’s unique needs. She admired their emphasis on the importance of self-expression and prayed that Grant would excel there. Though it was an English speaking school, there was a strong emphasis placed on the Japanese language and culture. Emily made friends quickly while Grant struggled to find his place in school. He was increasingly moody and brooding, and he seemed to actually prefer spending time alone. He was pleasant and sociable when he had to be, so Nora didn’t worry too much about his behavior. He wasn’t like Nora’s other children, and she was never quite sure how to handle him. While her other children were made to walk the line during their formative years and adhere to strict codes of conduct, she had never been successful in implementing such rules with Grant. He was unintentionally rebellious, but he wasn’t a bad kid. He was just the sort of kid who didn’t take things at face value. He had to discover things for himself. He was capable and resourceful, and he was allowed greater freedoms because of it.
Within a year, Grant had learned enough Japanese to communicate well, but, after a year at the International School, Grant was getting restless. He had more questions than his teacher had time to answer, and he began to get frustrated. Soon he was getting into trouble, skipping out on class to read books in any quiet place he could manage to sneak into. Though Grant’s offences seemed relatively minor, Randy wouldn’t stand for it, as Grant’s behavior was seen as reflective of his abilities as a commanding officer. As troubles began to escalade, Nora set out to find a tutor for Grant, and she found the answer to her prayers in the form of an elderly Japanese man who had been part of the Imperial Japanese Navy during World War II. Though he was extremely strict, Grant respected his intelligence and his willingness to venture beyond the set curriculum.
This former pilot gave Randy cause for concern, however. He was not at all thrilled about the idea of his young son being indoctrinated with propaganda, and he questioned Nora’s decision to entrust Grant’s education to someone whose views differed so drastically from his own. The only positive that Randy saw was that Grant seemed more settled. He wasn’t getting into trouble, and that was a huge weight lifted from Randy’s shoulders. He chose to momentarily ignore the fact that he wasn’t pleased with Nora’s selection. Even if he did keep it a secret from everyone he knew, he allowed Grant to continue spending his days with his tutor.
Each day while Emily attended the International School, Grant spent long hours with his new teacher. They grew close, and their budding relationship gave Randy extra incentive to make sure he made time to talk to his son about the things he was being taught. Randy seemed pleased by Grant’s ability to discern that what was being taught as fact was actually a point of view that varied greatly from those of his father and others. While Randy saw some benefits to Grant’s multifaceted introduction to world politics, he ultimately decided that Grant’s tenure with his tutor would be terminated at the end of the school year.
Finding Grant a new and suitable tutor proved to be a challenge until Randy was introduced to a young, Ivy League educated wife of a fellow West Point graduate.
Jill Scott was a cultured, free-spirited and unique young woman whose black rimmed glasses and alternative style of dress gave Nora reason for pause. Yet, when she witnessed the way that Jill and Grant got along, she decided to withhold judgment and give Jill a shot. Nora remained unconvinced, however, that her husband’s selection was any more appropriate than her own had been. Randy raved about Jill’s credentials, and, though he had rattled off a few impressive accolades, Nora believed that the only credential that meant anything to Randy was that Jill Scott had apparently been smart enough to marry a West Point man.
It was safe to say that twenty-four-year-old Jill Scott was the ripped blue jean clad, knitted scarf wearing object of Grant’s first crush. Jill, a New Jersey native, was bright and accomplished but as laidback as any person Grant had ever met. She smoked cigarettes and listened to interesting music. She wrote poetry and had a tattoo of an electric guitar on the small of her back. She introduced Grant to new books, taught him how to play guitar and piano and constantly referred to him by a variety of pet names. She repeatedly told him what a heartbreaker he was going to be when he grew up, and, for him, that time couldn’t come soon enough.
Grant’s innocent infatuation with Jill concerned Nora. Under Jill’s tutelage Grant seemed to spend little time on traditional subjects and more time honing his acting chops, practicing songs on Jill’s guitar and learning yoga in Jill’s living room floor. The day that Nora informed Grant that he would be going back to school instead of spending his days with Jill, Nora felt her relationship with her little boy change. The way he looked at her was different…cold somehow. He yelled at her, which he had never done before. When she scolded him for being disrespectful, he declared that she didn’t understand him and never would. He stormed off to his room, slammed the door behind him and buried himself under his covers, crying into his pillow until he drifted off to sleep. For two weeks Grant didn’t initiate a single conversation that wasn’t centered around Jill. She was no longer a part of his everyday world, but there was something about Jill Scott that would stick with him forever.
Though Grant found his replacement tutor less than impressive, he had to admit that he preferred studying with him to going back to school. The redeeming factor seemed to be focused around that fact that he also worked with a ten-year-old Japanese girl whom Grant became fast friends with. Hoshi Yamamoto spoke no English, but she and Grant became nearly inseparable. When Nora arrived to pick Grant up in the evenings, it was not uncommon for her to find the two kids lying on their bellies, staring at the television, the backs of their heads, Hoshi’s jet black hair next to Grant’s blond, all that she could see. The two kids laughed together, learned together, and when news of a move came, Nora feared that her son would have his heart broken again.
When it came time for Grant to say goodbye to Hoshi, it seemed almost like second nature to him. Though the two had become attached, he seemed to detach with the flip of a switch. Two days before his family was to head back stateside, Grant totally separated himself from the people he had met in Japan. He spent the majority of both days in the street, alone with his basketball. In the days, weeks and months that followed, Grant never mentioned Japan or anyone he had left behind. He had cut all ties with his former life, and, increasingly, he said very little at all.
When the Cohens left Japan, they found an apartment in Washington D.C.. The move was to be a permanent one, and Nora needed time to search out the perfect house. Randy’s work at the Pentagon left him little time to spend with the kids, but Nora was so thankful to be back in the states that she didn’t even nag him about his busy schedule.
There was a basketball court less than a mile from the apartment, and Grant would disappear for hours at a time to shoot hoops in the park. He had become an expert ball handler, and his skills shined on the court, even against guys who were older and bigger.
At school things weren’t going nearly as well. Grant got into more than one fight at the public school he was attending, and, after several warnings, he was expelled. The little time that Randy and Grant were able to spend together had become strained. Randy was humiliated by the calls coming from the principal’s office. He had never had to deal with behavioral issues out of his older children, and he wasn’t in the mood to start. Randy’s temper often flared, and he threatened military school on numerous occasions.
The summer that Grant was twelve, he was sent to stay with his paternal grandfather in the Chestnut Hill area of Boston. The stay was to last two weeks, during which the retired colonel and former senator would spend time with his young grandson, teaching him about military history and the importance of discipline. Colonel Cohen came from old money, and, though he didn’t flaunt his wealth, he liked to splurge on his grandchildren…especially his youngest.
Though they had only seen each other three or four different times over the course of Grant’s life, the two had always admired one another. Every year around his birthday, Grant received a card with a hundred dollar bill and a note that always read in big capital letters: POPS LOVES YOU, SAM! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Nicknames are a West Point tradition, and when Hiram Ulysses Grant was appointed to the United States Military Academy under the name Ulysses S. Grant, he soon became known as to the corps of cadets as U.S. Grant. The U.S. came to stand for Uncle Sam, and Sam would stick with Sam Grant for the rest of his life.
R.J. “Pops” Cohen made the trip to North Carolina the day after his daughter-in-law gave birth to his youngest grandson, and, when his only child placed the baby in his arms, they bonded instantly. Randy had named both of his older boys after his hero, and he was anxious to tell his father what he planned to call the new baby.
“Well, tell me already, Son,” Pops insisted as he stared at the baby in his arms. “What are we calling this handsome guy?” He excitedly awaited Randy’s answer, imagining what twist on Dwight D. Eisenhower his son had come up with on the third go-around. Randy’s answer would surprise him.
“Pops, his name is Grant,” Randy smiled proudly.
Pops nodded as he stared at the baby named for the military man he most admired. “Well,” his voice cracked a bit as he gently kissed the baby’s forehead, “welcome to the world, Sam.”
Randy laughed, thrilled to see his father so overcome with joy.
“We’re calling him Grant, Pops,” Nora chimed in.
“Maybe you and everyone else,” Pops smiled admiringly, “but this little fellow here is my Sammy.” So it remained…Pops forever in awe of his Sam.
The Colonel had aged well, and, despite a lingering limp that was the result of shrapnel wounds, there was nothing that he wasn’t willing to try. He cut Grant no slack as he chased him around the makeshift basketball court in his driveway, and he was impressed, yet not surprised, by Grant’s speed and agility. In fact, when his twelve-year-old grandson revealed to him that his father had recently started requiring him to take the Army Physical Fitness Test each morning before he went to school, Colonel Cohen was not surprised in the least. With a chuckle, he recalled a recent telephone conversation during which his son had, with utmost sincerity, discussed the necessity of dying Grant’s hair at some point before he entered high school. Randy had lamented how he had always assumed that, at some point, Grant’s hair would darken to the shade that was shared by his four brunette siblings. He had gone on to say how disappointed he was that the transformation didn’t seem to be taking place. All of this, of course, to assure that Grant entered West Point with a more commanding look than he currently possessed. When Pops dared suggest that the reason Sam didn’t resemble Randy’s vision of the country’s most revered general had less to do with his hair color and more to do with the fact that he was a twelve-year-old little boy, Randy had dismissed the argument.
Randy had always been hardcore, bent on excellence and focused on molding West Point cadets. Zealous was always the word that the colonel used to describe his only child because it was the nicest way that he knew how to classify his son’s dedication, if not obsession, with his job. There was no doubt that he was proud of the patriot that his son was, but, personality wise, he and Randy were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Colonel Cohen was more laidback, more gentle, more understanding, more open-minded, and more willing to listen to Grant’s dreams rather than imposing his own hopes upon him.
During Grant’s stay in Boston, Pops arranged a trip to visit a friend who was a law professor at Harvard, and they took Grant on a tour of the campus. Pops took Grant to The Garden to see where the Boston Celtics play basketball. Grant got to see the locker room and even meet a couple of the players. They sat for hours in a bookstore in Cambridge. They sat at the kitchen table in the middle of the night, eating Zingers and talking about everything from the colonel’s days in Washington to Grant’s crush on Jill Scott.
