Part 16 And The Beat Goes On

So here I was, a twenty-three year old mother with a great job, a loving family and a very good bank balance. It couldn’t get much better than that.

Actually, in one respect it did. It was my time with little James that was transforming me as I wondered at the life I had created (with a little help from Jerry).

I found myself in the nursery / music room often, gently playing my much loved Sammy guitar and singing to my son.

One day I was doing just this and Jerry was home at the time. He sat in the corner, watching me. He recorded me on his phone in full video and, the idiot, posted it on-line.

Inside three days we were being inundated with messages asking for more Sammi Boyer music and he had been contacted by an agent.

All the time we had been playing as a group we had not had that much response and here I was, just playing a lullaby to my baby and everyone wanted a piece of the action.

I thought it was just too much and told him that I was not going to let him in to the nursery if this is what happens but he and Albert teamed up to convince me that I should do it.

The telling argument was that any money could go into a trust fund for James when he was older. Well! What else could I do but cave in after that.

We organised a contract with the agent who would set up a Sammi Boyer web-site and sell either single clips or a block of songs on-line. So I now found myself singing to my son for money.

The agent wanted more so Jerry sent him a video of us playing at one of our parties and that took off like wildfire.

So ‘Sammi and the Samoyeds’ became Twit-Tube hits. We got a lot of requests to play all over the country but restricted our appearances to our own locality so that anyone who wanted to see us play had to come to us.

None of us really needed the money. Like the song we now always played says, “Got a day time job, doing all right”.

We were coming up to my twenty-fourth birthday and we all decided that the games room was too small so we hired a reception venue in the closest city and had it catered.

We put out messages to our usual crowd to be there or be square and bring their friends but we didn’t expect to get more than a thousand turn up for the party, many bearing cards and gifts.

We managed to get through the night without anyone getting hurt or upset and played our stuff to a heaving mass of dancers. Our usual crowd thought it was a hoot but the older ones left early, not able to stand the heat.

When the agent heard about it he was incensed, he thought we should have had someone on the door, taking money.

The big problem with that evening was that Mary and Miranda, and to a lesser extent, Barry, had got the ‘fame bug’ and wanted us to accept what the agent wanted and do a tour.

Jerry and I relented so plans were made to have the tour that summer, just playing weekends so that we could all get home and be ourselves during the week.

In the meantime Jerry had to get on with his research and I, now on extended maternity leave, had to look after my baby. Actually, Albert had a chat to me and the upshot was that I let my assistant take over the HR seat as she had been doing it well while I had been away. So I was a full-time mum except for board meeting days.

The other thing that happened before the summer was that we now had a pretty good working experiment and a meeting was called to decide what to call it and how to get it into the marketplace.

The result of that meeting was that the Boyer Booster was christened and the board decided that a subsidiary company be set up, in its own premises, to make it. All we needed to do now was to decide on sizes, shapes and pricing.

Jerry suggested that, because the new, smaller and more efficient panels the company had now developed did not fit standardised frames, we could make a surround to the new panels so adding the booster to normal installations. That was heartily agreed to so that was how the first Boosters went out.

By this time they had been miniaturised and the old stalk sticking up had become a brush-like forest of plastic tubes with a thin copper wire in them that created much more output.

The new product looked like a smaller panel with a frame of broom-bristles but could put out a hundred watts during the night as the temperature cooled in a breeze and the same in the morning as it warmed up, even before the sun shone on the panel.

While we waited for the new factory to be built, we sent some of the new panels out to our biggest installers to put up as a test over summer.

The Boyer Boost Limited factory was not very big and was ready to be moved into by the end of that summer. The naming ceremony took place mid-week as we had our tour gigs on the weekends. The family was there and a plaque was unveiled by our local MP.

We had all agreed that it would be called the ‘Susan Schurbert Building’ and both Albert and Arthur had tears in their eyes as the ceremony ended.

It took until Christmas to get all of the equipment in and recruit suitable fabrication and electronics specialists to get the process going. By that time our installers were clamouring for the finished product with the results from their test installations blowing their minds.

The big power generation guys got wind of it as well and weren’t happy. A think-tank that Albert had spoken to had predicted that with the output of our first generation of panels, plus use of a battery, more than a third of houses in the country would have enough power to go off-grid. If we were able to up the output by twenty percent with the second generation they predicted that half the country would be off-grid soon after.

My next birthday was a very quiet affair, at home, with only a few guests. The band had found that fame wasn’t everything over the summer months. Being mobbed is one thing, being trolled is another and there were some very jealous people out there on the social media.

That summer tour was the first, last and only one that we did and we kept any further shows local and limited. Another reason for a quiet time was that I was pregnant again.

James was two and I was again three months expecting on my birthday. This time, however, I was expecting twins, or so the ultrasound said.

The last three months weren’t an easy carry and I was sorry that I had to miss Jerry getting his Doctorate but I just couldn’t get away to the ceremony.

He had it filmed for me so I saw it later. My twin girls were born just before his birthday, just a week away from both James on one side and Jerry on the other.

The birth wasn’t easy and I had a hysterectomy before I left the hospital.

I knew that following summers were going to be a riot of birthday parties and started to think how I could get them to have one big one. No more children for me but I was sure that James, Belinda and Brianna would fill my future well enough.

Jerry had to take me back to the clinic for an unscheduled check-up a month or so later. I spent three days there while a nanny looked after my little ones.

The biggest problem was that although I had lactated for James, I was dry this time and this was a bad sign. My tests all came back in the correct zone but Jerry and I were warned to watch out in future.

With my original operation, anything could go wrong to trigger a rejection. While we were in the area we put flowers on the bikers’ grave and met his wife coming into the cemetery carrying her own bunch.

We chatted for a while. She seemed to have moved on and told me a little about the problems her husband had been having.

She said that he had suffered periods when he thought his brain and his body were fighting each other but the worst part, she said, was that he had times when he would lose all feeling in digits or even a whole limb, for hours at a time.

That information made my blood run cold; because since the twins, I had been losing feeling in the odd toe but had put it down to being a slave to fashion when it came to shoes.

The following two years were full of highs and lows. The Schurbert Boosted range of solar panels was released on the market and took off like a rocket. The Schurbert factory was flat out making the panels and adding the surrounds that we supplied.

There were a couple of odd moments though; the energy generation people tried to say that the Booster was merely a phony, having no use whatsoever. They had obviously taken one apart and found that there were no moving parts and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

When inspectors came to us to see if the energy guys were right we showed them a unit on its own, putting out power with just a heater and fan. We would not divulge the science behind it but they went away convinced.

Another group of bottom feeders who didn’t discover the secret were the copy makers. There were several that hit the market cheaper than us but none of them had any effect on the power output.

Every one that we pulled apart was exactly the same as ours in physical components but our software had been hidden away in a chip that looked like a second NiCad battery.

When we were pushed for our production we just bought in some of the best looking units cheap and replaced the useless NiCad battery with our chip and they worked perfectly. They just needed our sticker to replace the shonky one and we were good to go.

The sad part of those couple of years was losing my grand-parents, just three months apart. They had been hit with covid forty years earlier but recovered.

Doctors had said that it didn’t affect the younger people at the time but both of them had breathing difficulties in later life. It was strokes that brought them both down, something that doctors now admitted could be part of a ‘long covid’ problem.

It had an effect on Albert, now the patriarch of the family, who got a bit morose after both loses. He, however, was so happy that he now had four grand-children to carry on the family he managed to weather the bad days of the funerals.

I said four grand-children; my twins seemed to have brought on a wave of pregnancies.

Arthur was now a proud father of his first born son, Albert (what else), who would eventually inherit the Schurbert business, Barry and his wife had their own, as did both Mary and Miranda.

It was a very joyous time for all and our little get-togethers at the house were a sight to see, five mothers nursing seven children while five fathers and one grandfather chewed the fat.

Part 17 When I See You Smile

We had a get-together one weekend and it was decided that the band was no more, everyone happy to let it go.

A deciding factor was that we were being ‘sampled’ and there was even an ongoing ‘Rock’n’Roll Life with the Samoyeds'’ show on Twit-Tube that some bright sparks had produced where avatars of us did crazy things.

The funny part was that they had us as a pack of Samoyeds who could turn into a rock band at appropriate times.

It was actually very well done and quite funny. The opening theme music was “And the Beasts go on”. It was very popular and had generated a whole world of merchandise.

I had collected three sets of plush toys and three sets of posters for my babies which we all signed. They would, maybe, be a collectors’ item one day in the next century.

The show also brought about one very happy time that led to an awful moment. Jerry and I were down south at a popular show and the producers of the ‘Samoyeds’ were there and bailed us up in the foyer at half time.

They wanted me to do a guest spot on the show, singing a song which we had never done on stage or on video. They had chosen ‘When I see you Smile’ and I agreed to do it if they gave a donation to charity.

When we filmed it I took down my Sammy guitar and, kitted out in motion capture kit, sat on a stool and sang the song in front of a green screen.

It was fun and the episode that it appeared in, now with a singing Sammi Samoyed, was extremely popular. The only problem for me was that I when I had to play bar chords my index finger on my left hand was totally without feeling much of the time and I had to fudge so I didn’t use that finger.

Both companies were doing well now; we had a board meeting and the board decided to amalgamate the two factories. Jerry and I sold our controlling interest in Boyer for a reasonable, but substantial, amount. My life became a round of being mother, lover and business woman. As my children grew so did my interests. The gardens became a must-see place during the Open Garden days and we started to host small fairs and charity festivals.

I would take my children out into the grassland and we would talk to the deer. There were a few new babies there as well, just the right size for my three to pat and stroke. We were out there in the sunshine in the lead up to James ninth birthday when I simply blacked out.

When I came around again I was in the clinic with Jerry looking down at me with relief that I had woken up again. I had been out for four days and it was only the quick thinking of James, who had grabbed my phone and hit the speed dial for his father that allowed me to be looked at so quickly.

I had given everyone a fright, including me, but was able to be up and about in a couple more days. The clinic had been doing a lot of research into anti-rejection drugs and my surfer surgeon, now looking quite statesmanlike, told me that having me in their MRI machine had allowed them to generate comparison data against the early data they already had.

He assured me that if I took the medication he suggested, I would be good for a lot longer. The only thing he did say that was upsetting was that my brain was over eighty years old now and to keep a look out for the problems that afflict most old people.

Some of the things he spoke about I had seen recently, in Albert. When I got back home I asked him if we could have a little meeting with him, Arthur and his wife, me and Jerry.

I made sure we had tea and coffee and a choice of cake and started, “The clinic has told me that I’ll be good for some years yet and it got me to thinking about the future. We have all been successful and Jerry and I now have enough behind us to make you an offer on this house, Albert, with the proviso that you can live here afterwards.”

He looked surprised and then saw the logic. “That would be all right as long as we retain the status quo; if you buy it I’ll rejig my will; that’s something I’ve been thinking about anyway. What do you think, Arthur?”

Arthur said that it sounded good and would ensure that the house would remain in the family. We discussed values and the upshot was that Jerry and I became the owners of the house and grounds, with Albert as our guest for the rest of his life.

When all the paperwork was completed and the money transferred we planned a little party. Jerry and I had a little idea that would be our house-warming theme.

We got a name board made for the house (which never had a name of its own) and, at the end of that summer we set up the band outside the garage next to the orchard, moved the cars around the back and set up tables for the food and drink.

We invited all of our usual family and friends as well as all of our workforce and their families.

The morning of the party started with the unveiling of our new house name.

‘The Samoyeds’ made everyone laugh but it was income from the band that helped us buy it.

The rest of the day was a stream of well-wishers who danced as the band played for the last time together, there in the sunshine in front of the garages. I don’t know how many came to join us but the dancing went into the evening and still new faces were appearing.

It was a lovely day, made even better that the children of the band members were now old enough to appreciate that their parents really were Twit-Tube stars in their day. We all had a good time and there were a lot of smiles on a lot of faces so it must have been a success.

James was in High School and the girls were doing their end of primary exams when Albert started getting hazy.

He started calling me Susan and tended to forget things immediately he heard them. It wasn’t unusual; he was now past seventy five and had lived a full life.

His whole body was almost the same age as my brain and it was sad to see.

We carried on for another five years before he was confined to his bed and we had a live-in nurse. One day I was sitting by his bed, having a chat, and he got a short burst of lucidity.

“Samantha” he said, cutting through my mindless ramble, “I’m so happy you came into my life, bringing my daughter back to me and even giving me three wonderful grand-children that I love. I don’t think I’ve long to go but I want you to know that you’ve been more than a daughter to me, you have been a true friend and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you, my daughter,” and then dozed off, never to be lucid again in the two weeks he lived beyond that day.

His funeral was a big affair, seeing his position in the local business world and all of the charities he had supported. The service was set down for a Friday with the factories closing for the day.

The church was full and there were many outside. There were even people lining the road to the cemetery, the men with doffed hats and the women all dressed in black. It was harrowing but we managed to get through it.

James was now close to twenty and the girls were both starting university so everyone in the house was mature enough to know that in the midst of life, death sometimes becomes a factor.

Arthur took over as Chairman as a permanent position, although he had been doing it for some time already.

When we met with the lawyer we found out that Albert had totally rewritten his will some time before. Instead of his estate being split evenly between Arthur and me it was now split with the two of us sharing half of it with the other half being split evenly between his four grand-children and his favourite charity.

After all the taxes, and seeing that he owned no property, the amount that each of the children got was significant. His shares in Schurbert Solar were split between me and Arthur so the family control remained.

As Jerry and I moved into our forties and fifties we became doyens of the local social scene. ‘Samoyeds’ was even more the place to be seen, whether it was an open garden day, a charity function or a party as we entertained all and sundry. James had a big bash for his twenty-first with all of his university mates and it took a week to find all the bottles and bits of food they had spread all over the garden.

He had asked for a popular band that played a weird mixture of punk-rap-goth music that was the in-thing and I didn’t consider it real music but the kids all had fun.

Two years later the girls wanted a debutante ball in a big venue and that was like something from a Bronte novel. I dressed to suit and they all called me ‘Mother, Dear’ and giggled.

Three years after that James and his bride walked up the aisle to start their new life together. He had, like his father, graduated with honours and was on the path to a huge career in Astrophysics. His wife was a talented pianist who had been tickled pink to be marrying into the family of the Samoyeds, a show that she had grown up watching.

Once again the girls went their own way after another two years. It was a crazy double wedding, my twins marrying another set of twins who came from a very well connected family and had definitely never followed the Samoyeds. It was, however, a very lavish and well-reported event.

We passed into a new century and I had a small, intimate birthday party on the next December. I say small, it was just family and the family had grown. It gave me a chance to cuddle my grandchildren.

It was partly to celebrate my fifty seventh birthday as Susan / Samantha and also (privately) to celebrate my original birth date, a hundred years before, in 2001.

The house now seemed far too big for Jerry and me once the children were away doing their own thing. They didn’t want to live in a big rambling mansion; it just was not the modern way.

Arthur didn’t need it so we talked about what we could do with the house and decided that we would talk to the clinic to see if they had a use.

They came out and saw it as a potential new clinic, with some renovations, that would be a second centre of research. I was happy, seeing it was them who gave me my second life.

Well, I say ‘them.’ The staff and administration were all new faces, the original ones being retired or dead. I came to realise that this was an unwanted factor when you live two lives; you end up among a lot of strangers.

Jerry and I found a nice place, not far away, which was about one tenth the size of ‘Samoyeds’ but easy to look after and far more cosy. We moved in and the paperwork was completed to gift the old place to a charity that worked with the clinic. It made our tax position look really good.

We both retired from our different boards and charity committees and just enjoyed our own company. Taking trips to all the places we had never been to; as well as visiting our children (for very short periods, you don’t want to overstay your welcome.)

I was a few years older than I was when I had the original operation when I collapsed again.

I was taken to the ‘Samoyeds Clinic’ and woke up with a view out of the window that I remembered from Alberts’ old room, the room where he died. The prognosis was that I had suffered another stroke and had developed swelling on the brain.

I had organised my last will and testament years ago so everything was in place should I drop off the mortal coil. I was visited by all of my extended family as I lay in my bed.

They all had tears in their eyes when they left, not sure if they would see me again. I loved them all, my Jerry being the rock that Sammy had been but so much more beside. I told him that I really loved him and on top of that, he was my best friend forever.

I have my journal and I’m writing this as they talk about another operation which may, or may not; relieve the pressure on my very old brain. I’ve asked them to give it to Jerry, unopened, so that he could do with it as he sees fit if I don’t come through and the doctor had nodded. I was sure he knew this one was the make or break time.

When I looked through my journal I noticed just how apt the words were before I had the big operation, so I will put them here, again. Maybe I’ll be able to start with a new chapter in a few days or weeks. If not, I’ve lived a good life. Make that two lives.

“Every story has a beginning and an end. I rather expect that today is the day my story ends. Who knows, I may avoid the fate that awaits me and I’m able to carry on with my life”.

“It’s all in the lap of the Gods, or so they say.”

I have loved being Samantha. It has been a truly uplifting experience. I look out of this window and watch the deer and realise that I have been bles…….

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Self-published by Jerry Boyer. In loving memory of his wonderful wife.
Taken by a massive stroke while awaiting surgery.
Loved mother of three; grandmother of seven.
She lived longer than most and brought joy to many.

Marianne Gregory © 2022