From the time my kids were preteens, either Bud or I stopped off a couple of afternoons to stock up the pantry. It seemed we were always low on fruit, milk, bread, and snacks. We encouraged our kids to stay home, meaning other kids hung out there. I rarely met a satiated kid.
One afternoon, I noticed some lemonade drinks that looked appealing. I picked up a couple of cartons, thinking the kids might enjoy them. Boy, was I right. They barely hit the fridge before the kids broke into them. I got busy with laundry or some other tasks while starting dinner. Before long, my kids were having a fine time, laughing and almost acting like friends. When John made a trip to the kitchen and asked his sister if she wanted him to bring her another, I knew something was off. Upon investigation, I found out the truth about California Coolers and really messed things up for them.
Bud and I have been together for 73 years. This is our first photo together. I am the baby on right in fitst row. He is the little boy behind me. The photographer has us facing the sun, so we are shielding our faces. I remember always being posed facing the sun. Who know the rationale behind that?
Bud’s mother came to help out when I was born. She often said she should have pinched my head off when she had a chance. Live and learn. Our families were friends, so we grew up playing together. He was a nice boy, never mean to girls, so I always liked him.
He first started coming to visit on his own when I was seventeen. Our family was generally confused as to whom he was visiting. My sister and I thought he was interested in her, so I went to my room and read. I was always looking for a chance to read, anyway, since Daddy kept us really busy on the farm. My brother thought Bud was coming to see him.
The matter was further complicated since Bud had bashed his left thumb with a 24 lb. hammer . The doctor pushed the ball of his thumb back in place until it was approximately thumb shaped, stitched it to his nail, and splinted it. One week to the day, while he was still splinted, a sprocket fell on his right foot, breaking it. Consequently, he was effectively disabled on the right and left side, though his job kept him on, probably out of guilt. He didn’t feel much like a suitor during this period.
The next week, he pitched his crutches in the back of his truck on the way to the doctor. They blew out. He retrieved them but one had suffered the loss of a rubber tip, not optimal for a lame guy with no grip due to a smushed thumb. Bud managed to hobble in the doctor’s door before hitting a slick tile. One crutch went one way, one the other. Pulling himself up on receptionist’s desk,he inquired “Is there a doctor in the house?” It must have been horrifying to the staff who were trying to remain professional.
So, he did finally live through the indignities of his injuries. All the while, I got a good bit of reading done while Phyllis and Bill courted him. I suppose I was inadvertently playing hard to get. When he eventually got off the crutches, he asked me out. I don’t know which of the Swain kids was most surprised, me, Phyllis, or Billy.
We got married two years later, while we were still in college.
“The teacher said I gotta have a duck suit Friday,” announced Billy, a second-grader. “I gotta be a duck in a stupid play, Friday”
“What?” demanded Mother, feeling panic rise in her gut.”where am I supposed to get a duck suit?”
Fortunately, the next day was Thursday, payday, but where in the world do you get a duck suit? In a panic, she called her friend who had a kid in the same class.”
“Ruby, Billy has to have a duck suit Friday for a play. Where am I going to find a duck suit? I don’t have time to make one.”
“He’s not gonna be a duck. He’s gonna be a duke and escort a duchess in a program. The boys have to wear suits and the girls have to wear their best dresses.”
“Oh, so now all I have to do is come up with a suit by Friday.” She moaned, dreading the cost.
I am sorry she found out the truth. It would have been so much mote interesting if he’d shown up in a duck suit .
Nutsrok 