Billy was Daddy’s shadow, making every step he made. One evening, they were sitting with several of the guys on logs around a fire telling tales. Billy had worked hard to keep up with his new orange hunting cap all day, only too aware of how lucky he was to Continue reading
Daddy
The Incredible Tale of Uncle Albert’s Tale
Why in the world did Daddy ever tell us Uncle Albert had a tail if we couldn’t ask questions or ask to see it? The next few times I saw him, I followed him around, hoping his pants would fall down. He was emaciated as only an eighty-five year-old life-long smoker can be. It seemed like a real possibility. For a while, every time I was around him, whenever Continue reading
Footloose and Fancy Free (Part 3)
Bobo’s old truck rattled in one Saturday about four. White-headed kids in overalls piled out of the back, their bare feet kicking up a dust. Fishing poles dangled out of the truck bed. Grinning, Bobo slung a stringer of bream over his shoulder. Inez slid out of the front seat, wagging a newborn and helping her twin toddlers slide to the ground. One was diapered, Continue reading
Footloose and Fancyfree (Part 2)
Even though the occasion of Bobo and Inez’s marriage preceeded my birth by a few days, Mother has told me the story so often, I feel I was there. Bobo showed up with his bride just hours after they married. No doubt, he was proud of her. He was twenty-seven; she, fifteen and visibly pregnant. Now, he’d be arrested. Quite a buxom lass, she was lovely. Continue reading
Footloose and Fancy-Free (Part 1)
Cousin Bobo was footloose and fancy-free, unperturbed by the economic responsibilities of four children in three years. He doted on his child-bride, Inez, living quite happily with her and their family in an old unpainted, farm house on her mama’s place. Despite his aversion to a regular work schedule, he and Inez managed fine. There was no power to the house, so no bills, the wood stove and fireplace sufficing for heat and cooking. The house was abandoned when they moved in, so he tacked wire over the open windows to keep varmints out, shuttering the windows for bad weather. Mama was real proud he did the right thing and married Inez, so she wasn’t about to stir up trouble, especially after the young’uns started coming. Bobo plowed and planted Mama’s garden, later helping get the peas picked and corn cut. Except for the few days he spent plowing, and cutting firewood, he fished and hunted every day. He happily peddled watermelons and turnip greens out of his old ’49 Ford Truck. They never ran short of game or fish. Sometimes he’d help a neighbor butcher a beef or hog, bringing in extra meat. He wasn’t averse to helping family with a little painting or carpentry work from time to time, as long as it was understood that his labor included a few days’s hospitality for his family. He kept Mama’s freezer full. That along with Mama’s chickens and eggs, the cow’s milk and butter kept them going just fine. Getting clothes for the kids wasn’t a challenge. Inez was the youngest of six spectacularly fertile sisters. Their cousin’s hand-me-downs were plentiful. All those little blonde tykes lined up in overalls year round was awe-inspiring. Most of the time, they wore shirts under their overalls in winter. Plenty of old tennis shoes lay casually around, should any of the kids decide they needed footwear. Some even had mates. Size wasn’t an issue. Should a shoe be too big, it worked fine to slide-style and let it flop. The kids weren’t partial to shoes anyway, unless they were picking around in a trash dump with old cans or broken glass. Strings were scarce, but I never noticed anybody complaining.
I loved it when Bobo, Inez, and the kids showed up. Mother wasn’t always so enthusiastic, figuring they had run out of groceries and needed a place to roost for a few days. They did seem more likely to show up in bad weather, when a warm house was helpful. Sometimes they’d stay a few days with this relative, a few with that one, moving one before the tension got too thick. Mother complained about relatives giving them gas money to help them down the road to their next hosts. I know I saw her slip Inez a little of her grocery money once, after Daddy went to work. They moved on. We ate gravy and biscuits till Daddy got paid the next Thursday.
to be continued
If Men Had Babies
Daddy loved going to doctors and taking medicines. He walked through one morning as Mother’s friend mentioned she was seeing Dr Bert Mason, praising him to Mother. Upon hearing this recommendation of a doctor he had no experience of, his ears perked up. Pondering Shirley’s recommendation as he went about his business, he did a total body assessment, trying to determine what imperfect body part might be most in need of attention. Like most people over forty, at any time he could likely zero in on problem or two. His knee was cranky, uncomfortable in foul weather. Seasonal allergies were an ongoing problem. Indigestion was a common visitor. Maybe he should see Dr. Mason. He made a note to have mother call for an appointment when he got back in the house.
Two weeks later, they hurried in to the doctor’s office. He settled in while Mother registered him. They were the first ones to be seen after the lunch break. As they waited, a couple of patients joined them. In less than five minutes, the nurse called out, “Billie Swain?” He was surprised to be called Billie, but followed her into the bowels of the clinic. As Mother waited, the room quickly filled with patients. Before long, Mother notice a commonality. The patients were all women, mostly obviously pregnant, or nursing newborns. Realizing there was nothing to be done, she settled back, looking forward to Daddy’s reaction to his visit with Dr. Mason, M.D., OB/GYN.
Within minutes, Daddy slipped out the door in the rear of the waiting room, signaling as he made his way out the door, hoping to escape notice.
Mr. Bradley and the Old Floozies
Repost:
Mr. Bradley died!! Mr. Bradley died!!
This was unbelievable! I had seen people get shot on “Gunsmoke,” but I’d never known anyone who had actually died. I knew I was supposed to cry when someone died but I couldn’t manage it. First of all, Mr. Bradley was an old grouch. He wore khaki pants and shirt and an old gray felt hat with oil stains around the hat band. He was really selfish. He had built us a chicken house. When I went out later to Continue reading
Hanging By a Thread
Though he didn’t apppreciate it till later, Bill’s life hung by a thread as he sat tranquilly in that day in church, just as he had every Sunday of his life. We all lined that pew, third from the left in front, Billy, Daddy, Mother, Marilyn, Connie, Phyllis (she was good help with the little girls), then me, on the end, where I’d hopefully pay attention best. Careful thought had gone into the seating. Billy and I couldn’t be trusted to sit together. I couldn’t be next to the little girls. I played with them, encouraging them to “act up.” Nobody sitting next to Phyllis got any encouragement to do anything except be worshipful. This generally worked out pretty well, giving bored kids plenty of time to think, the very thing that put young Billy’s body and soul in mortal peril that particular Sunday.
As the minister droned on and time dragged, Billy had plenty of time to think. The offering had been collected and sat temptingly on the altar: a handful of change, a couple of fives, tens, ones, a twenty, and a few checks. Brother Deck, an ancient deacon, who’d help collect it, had nodded off in the pew directly ahead of us, his head drooping as he slept. Occassionally, he delighted us by tooting in his sleep. It sounded like a screen door flapping and was quite satisfying, though we couldn’t make as much of it as we’d have liked, having been forewarned not to laugh when he did it again this week. It was still something to look forward to, relieving the tedium of the service.
Brother Elmer Elkins and his wife Miss Margie sat on the other end of the pew ahead of us. Brother Elmer had had the good sense to marry money. His wife had inherited land as well. Mr. Elmer was an excellent farmer, adding to the investment of her inheritance, and was the envy of the that farming neighborhood and the undisputed “boss” of the church. Though the church might vote on expenditures, plans didn’t come to fruition unless Brother Elmer, the church treasurer, signed the checks. As Billy pondered the fortune displayed temptingly before him on the altar, it occurred to him that in the bustle of church dismissal, that treasure would be unattended. He might be able to pick up a little offering of his own, if he slipped to the front unnoticed.
As the prayer ended, he slipped out the opposite end of the pew from the rest of us, intending to sidle by the offering plate unnoticed, helping himself to a little gift. Brother Elmer must have dealt with this temptation before. He slid out of his seat just ahead of Billy, turning to glare him down, before “collecting” the collection plate. Apparently, Billy wasn’t the first to think of this little trick. Thank God, Brother Elmer’s “bad boy” radar was working that morning. It saved Billy’s life!
Boo Hoo to You, Too
I wrote this in response to Trish’s post yesterday on Ten Years a Single on Mom about crying about a broken washing machine. I’ve done worse.
Here’s the whole sorry story. Daddy had died after sudden illness days before. I was a mess, but making a great effort to keep my emotions in check, knowing my mother was in Continue reading
Nutsrok 