I had
to hide--hide, and get a new start.

The money in the pockets of my borrowed suit didn't last long. I
couldn't possibly risk presenting myself as a strong man or a
magician again. I became a ditch digger and a day laborer, and finally
drifted into the professional wrestling racket. Many of the top
wrestling promoters live in Washington, D. C. I rented a little white
clapboard house with green shutters, out in the country beyond Silver
Springs, Maryland.

* * * * *

I was careful to keep myself a second-rate wrestler. This was
exasperating, Your Excellency. At any time I could have beaten three
or four of their best wrestlers simultaneously. Everything was fixed
so I won and lost when they told me to. We even practiced how we were
going to win or lose before each match. I was very obedient and very
scared.

I did everything _not_ to attract attention. I started to use the male
principle again, but so sparingly that everything looked natural.

I tried to fit into the life of the community and become an American.
I joined a Bowling League. I learned to play a game called "Canasta."

I got to be great friends with a man named Nat Brown, an automobile
mechanic. He lived with his extraordinarily beautiful wife, Helene, in
a house about a half mile away.

The Browns used to ask me to dinner, and I would meet their friends. I
grew very fond of them. We would sit around and drink beer and play
cards and talk until late at night about politics and philosophy and
love and everything else on earth. It was by far the swiftest part of
my education in America, living with these lighthearted, charming
people who obviously liked me.

The only disadvantage was the problem raised by my increasing fondness
for Helene Brown. She was a vivid incarnation of the female principle,
and yet I knew I must not touch her. I had a constant battle with
myself to maintain the disinterested relationship necessary to
continuing with these people without complication.

Both Nat and Helene Brown used to come to see me wrestle whenever I
had a match in Washington. Whether I won or lost we would go out and
drink beer together. I would sometimes bring another girl along. More
and more I started to feel like a real native American. A couple of
close friends, Excellency, did a lot for your humble servant.

Three days ago I was riding along Connecticut Avenue in my new car.
When I stopped for a light, I saw a fam