Farm

Were You Born in a Barn?

I grew up in the fifties  and didn’t expect much.  I didn’t feel deprived, just understood the situation.  All the family toys fit in a medium-sized box and were shared. We had mean cousins who regularly tore them up, so storage wasn’t a problem.   If we realized they were coming and had time, we locked them in my parent’s  bedroom, but nothing was foolproof.  Those hellions could ferret out a steel marble locked in a safe and tear it up. No kid I knew laid no claim to a television, radio, or record player.  We were free to watch or listen along with our parents and act as the remote control as a bonus.

Most of mine and my brother’s time was spent outdoors.  We had the run of our property, including a large two-story barn, so we never had to stay indoors, even in rain or rare icy weather.  “Get your jacket and shoes and socks on before you go to the barn.”  I was more concerned about getting out than I was about bad weather, so I’d gladly have gone barefoot and jacketless, given the chance.  

Mother, a pessimist, foolishly believed in hookworms, stray nails, and broken glass.  I knew better, but she stayed on me.  It was a real downer.  If I got wet, I certainly didn’t come in to dry off. Most likely, I was wearing my only shoes.  

Should Mother notice wet feet or muddy clothes, we’d be stuck indoors for the day or till our jackets and shoes dried  I learned early that if you stay out in your wet things, pretty soon they lose that discolored, wet look.  Besides if you play hard enough, you generate some heat.

Our barn was two stories with a gigantic open door centering the second where Daddy backed up his truck up to load or unload hay.  It was a thrill to get a running start and fly to the ground eight or ten feet below.  Dry weather provided the softest landings since thick, shredded hay and powdery manure make a decent cushion.   Even the most determined jumper soon learned the folly of jumping on a rainy day.  It was too easy to slide into something horrible.  

Regular wet clothes aren’t too bad, but malodorous puddles and cow pies should be avoided at all costs. No one ever broke an arm or neck.

Playing on the square hay bales without damaging them is an art worth learning.  Tearing up baled hay quickly got us expelled from the barn as well as plenty of trouble.  It didn’t take long to discover which friend could be trusted to do right.  Billy and I policed them  and put a stop to tearing up bales.  Daddy had a stacking method we knew not to mess up.

The cats loved the barn, busying themselves with the rats who also made themselves at home. I’ll never forget the horrible feeling of a rat running up my leg.

Knowing rats hid in our playhouse made them no less scream-worthy, though we weren’t afraid of them, often hurling corncobs at them.  I don’t think I was ever fast enough to do any damage.  Sometimes we were a little more effective with slingshots or a BB gun.

A covered area below the loft was intended for equipment storage. Interestingly, only the broken equipment was under the shed. Presumably, repairs were started and abandoned there.  The good stuff sat out in the open.  Very little space was taken up for feed.   Mostly, it served as a repository for junk items.

One of the most interesting  was a rough wooden box with filled with letters and personal items both parents brought to the marriage. We were forbidden to open that box on pain of death, so were sneaky as we prowled through it, enjoying  the pictures and letters from old sweethearts, navy memorabilia including a gigantic pin used to close Daddy’s navy gear bag, six two-inch chalkware dolls in their original box, and two enormous carved ebony spoons featuring a naked man and a woman with pendulous bosoms.  

I can only assume Mother was too much of a coward to hang those shocking spoons on her kitchen wall.  Her sister, Anne, in the WACS had brought them home as a gift to Mother, a woman who wouldn’t  say butt or titty, euphemizing with “your sitting down place “or “chest” if absolutely necessary. What a waste.  If fondling ebony wood breasts makes a pervert, I signed on early. The man was not anatomically correct or the guilt would have undone me. The pity of it was, I couldn’t ask questions about any of those treasures since  the  boxes were strictly off limits.  

Sadly, the rats devoured the letters long before I learned to really read cursive, though Phyllis bragged she got to read some.  I prefer to think she was lying.

Lean-to sheds with stalls flanked the left side and back of the barn. We frequently snitched oats and  lured the horse near the rail partitions dividing the stalls while the other slid on for a brief ride, then switch around for the other to ride.  We badgered Daddy Incessantly to saddle the horse for us, until one fine day when I was about ten, he told us we could ride any time we wanted if we could saddle the horse ourselves.

We never expected that.  Billy and I did the old oat trick and had the horse saddled in minutes.  We rode any time we wanted after that.  I know the horse hated what was coming, but could never resist the oats. When he’d had enough, he’d scrape us off by walking under the low roofed stall.

That barn was the most glorious play area any kid ever knew. We were the luckiest kids around.

 

 

Andrew and Molly Part 1

img_1700Andrew Wharton was born to be a farm servant like his father and grandfather before him, the line extending back much further than anyone bothered to remember.  His work was not a choice; he was born to work Hampton Grange and expected to die there.  The only surprise was when pretty Molly Peace chose him.  Ecstatic in his luck, he couldn’t believe the rollicking dairy maid favored him above all the hopeful lads pursuing her when he’d done no more than sneak shy peeks at her in Chapel.  The confusion of love and glorious sensuality overwhelmed the young man who’d never contemplated the possibility that life could hold pleasure. Molly saw joy in everything, the sweet breath of the cows she milked, the warmth of the sun on her face, and the sweet sent of the hay she bundled, not seeming to notice the manure in the cow’s tail, the slogging rains, or the sneezing brought on by the hay.

Their life at Hampton Grange offered the couple little beyond a small hovel, milk and cheese from the dairy, a daily ration of bread and beer, the privilege of wood gathering, and scant wages. Once a year, they were due a measure of wool for their own use. Compared to the conditions many experienced, it was adequate under Old Squire John’s management. Left to his gambling heir, it was soon lost to bankruptcy, leaving them adrift.

Andrew and his new wife Molly found themselves standing in the freezing rain wearing all they owned before a pub in Liverpool. After three days’ starving, they were easily persuaded to join an agent for The Virginia Club for food and drink. With no prospects, they were Signed papers of indenture pledging the next four years of their lives in exchange for passage to the Jamestown colony in Virginia. For their volunteer bondage they would receive lodging, food, and clothing, the quality to be determined by their master. They were fortunate in being bound four years. Most were bound seven years. including involuntary prisoners or abductees. At the end of their service, they were entitled to tools, money, and land. Like so many other indentured servants, they could expect years of unrelenting labor and uncertain treatment. In truth, the next few years wouldn’t be greatly different to the life they were accustomed to if they were fortunate enough to be bound to a good master. At least they’d have a start at the end of their time.

He Axed for It

Man splitting log in half for fire wood with ax

Man splitting log in half for fire wood with ax

It’s hard to imagine why, but all Billy asked for that Christmas was an ax. That’s not a typical item for an eleven-year-old to ask for, but he stuck to his guns. The ax was his only request. Christmas morning he got up to find the tree mounded up with presents, but no ax shaped gifts, though it’s hard to imagine how one might expect to see an ax wrapped. After a few tension filled minutes of searching, he spotted the old broken ax that had been lying out on the wood pile the night before. Whoever was playing Santa tricks hadn’t even bothered to buff the rust off the head or knock the dried cow manure off the cracked handle. It lay carelessly against the brick hearth where it had been tossed at the last minute. Bill was sick. He looked at Daddy’s stern face, “You didn’t really think you’d get something dangerous as an ax, did you?”

His Christmas was ruined. Daddy let him suffer a minute of devastation before pulling the age old trick. “Well, if you look behind the tree, you might find…………” Of course, it was the ax of his dreams, complete with a bright red bow, probably the only ax delivered that Christmas morning. He was delighted! He had to hang around long enough to open the rest of his gifts, including the obligatory item he needed, new shoes for school. He endured a safety lecture before bursting outdoors to try his ax.

He had a glorious time for several days, chopping everything in sight. After he seemed like he might have the essentials down, Daddy put a pretty sharp edge on it, thinking he understood the danger now. Big mistake. He just had time to build up a little confidence. He took a whack a log. It rolled. He whacked again. It rolled again. He steadied it with his foot this time. Hitting his foot with a glancing blow, he was horrified to see a cut on the side of his show. Knowing there was no way to hide the damage to his shoe, he headed for the house, ready to face the music, ax still in hand. He came into the living room. “Mother, I cut my new shoe.”

She blanched. “Did you cut your foot? Take off your shoe and let me see!”

“No ma’am! I just cut my shoe, but you can take it to the shoe shop and get it sewn up.”

“Don’t worry about that. Just take off the shoe and let me see about your foot!” He should have left it on. When the shoe came off, it looked like the side of his foot came with it.  Blood gushed all over the floor. “Oh, My Lord! Somebody get me some towels! We gotta get to the doctor!” My aunt and her boys were there. The women scooped him up, Mother holding pressure, and my aunt driving. In the brief time they were gone, I was left to watch her four-year-old twins, Corwin and Kelvin. Corwin in particular was skating maniacally around in the huge puddle of blood like he was a Rockette at a Macabre Radio City Music Hall. Not only that. Corwin was so horrible, he had to be prevented from hurting my younger sister who were also in my charge.

Thank God, Daddy met the women just down the road. He and Mother took Billy on to the doctor to be stitched up. This freed Aunt Essie up to come back and clean up her little hellions after their blood bath. Naturally, she left the blood for me to clean up. At least she got her monstrous twins off the premises.

Amazingly, he’d sliced neatly through the ball of his foot, missing bones and tendons. Though he had dozens of stitches, inside and out, it healed beautifully, with no problems.

Later that evening, he lay on the couch, foot elevated on a pillow. He’d had pain medication and finally felt well enought to eat. Mother felt awful for him, so had made oyster stew, his favorite. She brought it to him on a tray table, so he could eat without moving. That would have been wonderful, had she not maneuvered just perfectly and whacked him directly on his bandanged foot, rewaking his screaming pain.

Our budget being what it was, that shoe did go to the shoe shop to be mended. Bill was restricted to crutches, so Mother borrowed a set from a friend. The fly in the ointment, was that one of them lacked a safety tip. Mother really meant to get a replacement, but time got away from her. It probably wouldn’t have mattered except for the ice storm the night before he started back to school. He hobbled out toward the bus, managing pretty well till he hit a patch of ice with that slick crutch tip. He went flying head over rear, landing in icy mud, skidding the rest of the way to the bus. For what it was worth, he got an extra day of vacation.

Recently, I asked Bill why in the world he’d wanted that ax. We had just moved onto a farm of one-hundred twenty acres, all uncleared.  Daddy set to clearing the land, he cut the trees and it fell to me and Billy to pile the brush.  Naturally, Daddy didn’t let us near the power saw.  Billy wanted the ax so he could clear the smaller stuff and avoid some of the brush piling. I should have asked for an ax, too.

Hard Time Marrying Part 15

!fireplace-3She had supper ready when Joe and the boy came in.  She’d laboriously managed to cook beans in a cast-iron pot hanging over the fire and baked cornbread and some sweet potatoes in the coals, pleasant work she was accustomed to.  Joe’s brows lifted when he saw supper and bowls and cups out on the table.  She crumbled cornbread in a cup and Joe poured buttermilk over it for the baby before lifting her to Anya’s lap.  They all fell to with an appetite. 

“My name is Anya, not Anna.  I’ll stay and earn my keep till I can manage, but I ain’t no whore.  Don’t come sniffing around me.  I don’t want to owe you nothing.  I’m gittin’ better so I can do for the baby and tend the house, but you need to keep the boy with you.”  She looked him fiercely in the eye.

Joe looked her and raised his voice.  “I’ll thank you to call me Joe.  Don’t you think I could’a already done hurt you if I’d wanted? I don’t want nothin’ more from you than you take care of yourself and the baby.”  He dropped his voice, speaking more to himself.  “I been getting along without a woman for a long time, but I ain’t fell so low I got to take up with a stringy, beat-up neck bone like you.”

Poor Joe was unaware her hearing had improved and was surprised to have a hot sweet potato hit him in the jaw.  “I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head,” she warned him through clinched jaws. 

“Yes, ma’am.”  He muttered.  “Beggin’ pardon, ma’am.  No call for me to be spiteful.  We are both in a pickle and battling ain’t gonna help.”

“You keep to your place and I’ll keep to mine till I can do better.”  The tension eased a bit now they understood each other.

They passed the evening watching the children at their play.  Joe had brought them a kitten from the barn.  The boy teased it with a bit of string, delighting the baby girl.  Joe and Anya caught themselves laughing at it a time or two.

“What’s the boy’s name?”  This was the first time it had occurred to her to ask.

“I don’t know.  I just been calling him boy.  His mama was sick when she got here and never told me nothing.  She died the next day.”  He stared into the fire.

“You mean these ain’t your young’uns?”  She was incredulous.

“No, I don’t know nuthin’ exceptin’ their mama up and died soon’s she got here.  I’d send ‘em back to her folk if I knew who they was.  She come with nuthin’ but my letter, a bundle of clothes, and these young’uns after I wrote off for a wife. I buried her out in the mesquite and tried to take the kids back to Talphus fer the town or the church to do for ‘em and them miserable bastards run me off like a scalded dog.  When I got back after doing chores that night, you was up in the house lookin’ at the baby.  I thought I’d done buried their mama alive.  It warn’t till just now the coyotes dug her body out of the grave till I knew you warn’t the woman I married.  Oh, Lordy.  I don’t know why I ain’t left well enough alone.”

 

Lou and Lynn Part 3 Looking for Grandma

As the rain pounded on the roof, Lou looked all around. “Boy, I hope Grandma’s not out in this! It’s dangerous!” Her lip quivered, though no tears escaped. “I will not cry! I will not cry! I am not a cry baby!” Facing away from Lynn, she stiffened her back and clinched her fist.

Lynn put her hand on Lou’s shoulder. “Lou, I know you’re worried but your grandma’s probably up at the house with Mother. Look around. We’d see her if she was out here. As soon as the storm’s over, we’ll head for the house.”

That made sense. “But won’t your mom be looking for you out in this storm?” Lou sniffled a little, still fighting tears.

“Oh no!” Lynn laughed. “She knows exactly where I am. We always play in the barn when it rains.”

That caught Lou’s attention. “Who is ‘we’?” She asked.

“My brother Billy. He’ll be home after a while. He went with Daddy and my uncle to take a truckload of hogs to the auction.” Now it was her turn for a quivering lip. “I could have ridden in the back with the hogs, but daddy said I’d be so dirty he might sell me by mistake mixed in with the pigs. It makes me so mad to get left out because I’m a girl! It’s just not fair!”

Now, Lou felt sorry for her. “No it’s not.” She agreed.

They were’t the only ones escaping the rain. An enormous red cow with menacing curved horns loped clumsily into the barn. To escape the huge beast, Lou bounded up the stack of baled hay. “ Lookout, she’s gonna get you!” She shouted.

The cow ran straight at Lynn, bellowing and wagging her horns side to side. Lou hid her eyes behind her hands, not wanting to see the cow destroy Lynn. Then she heard laughter. “Bessie, you big old baby. When are you gonna learn to stay with the cows under the shed?”

Bessie leaned into Lynn, licking her face, then nudging her. “Stop it, Bessie! You’re about to knock me down!” With that, she pulled a pear out of her pocket. “Here. That’s all I’ve got. Bessie opened her big mouth and chomped the pear with one big crunch. Pear juice dripped out of her mouth. She bumped Lynn, hoping to shake loose another. “Nope, that’s it.” Bessie looked very disappointed at Lynn’s stinginess.

“You’re not scared of her with those big horns? Lou couldn’t take it in.

“No! We raised her on a bottle from a tiny calf. Her mama wouldn’t feed her. All you have to be worried about is , she might stomp your foot trying to get a treat. That hurts! Want to give her that other pear? Hold it out with your hand flat so she won’t crunch your fingers.”

Lou climbed off the hay and held the pear out to Bessie like Lou showed her. Bessie took in her mouth, gobbling it down in a big, noisy crunch, leaving slimy slobber on her hand. Then she licked Lou’s hand greedily, hoping for more.

“Ooh! That’s gross!” Said Lou., wiping her hands on her shorts.

“Yep. I never said she wouldn’t slobber on you. I just said she wouldn’t bite you,” Lynn clearly found it hilarious.

“Look the rain has stopped. We can go ask Mother if she’s seen your grandma. One thing, though. Don’t bang the doors as you go in. If you wake up the babies and get them crying, I’ll have to stay in and help take care of them. We’ll be stuck in the house.”

“Y’all have babies?” Lou was astonished. She’d rarely had a chance to be around babies.

“Yeah, a big one and a little one. I like the big one best. She’s cute and will play with you. The little one just sleeps and squalls and messes up her diapers. There’s not much fun in that.”

Lou’s ears kind of perked up. She didn’t want to get them crying but it might be fun to look at them. She sure didn’t want to be around for messy diapers. The best thing of all, Grandma was probably in the house, waiting for her! “Let’s go!”

Lou and Lynn Part 2 Adventure to Find Grandma

“I still need to find Grandma.” Lou remembered, reaching for her backpack. “Oh no! I left my phone in my backpack. How can I call Grandma, now? Can I use your phone?” she asked, reaching out to Lynn.

“We don’t have a phone. The lines don’t reach this far out in the country. When Mother has to use the phone she goes to Mr. Jones’s store and pays him fifteen cents.

“Your grandma is probably up at the house with Mama, anyway. There’s nowhere else to go, It’s a mile to the nearest neighbor.” Lynn bounced up and pulled down an old bag swing attached to a rafter. She gave a huge push and raced high up the hay. “Swing it again!”

Lou pushed it hard. Then again. Lynn and hopped onto the swing at its peak, her legs wrapped tightly. The pack of dogs went wild barking and snapping at the swing as it skimmed over their heads. Lynn flew high enough to kick the top of the open doors, scoring an exciting ride till it fizzled to a stop.

Jumping off, she shouted. “Your turn! Climb up on the hay!”

Climbing the hay was the easy part. Lou’s head almost touched the tin roof of the barn. The rain pounded just above my head. Lynn pushed the swing till it gained enough height for me to jump on it. The dogs anxiously waited for their turn to jump at her.

“I’m scared! If I miss, I’m a goner!” Lou complined.

“We do this all the time! You’re not gonna fall…..and if you do, you’ll probably land on a dog.” assured Lynn.

That made sense. There were dogs to spare. As she swung higher and higher, Lou grabbed the rope, held her breath, and jumped, wrapping her legs tightly. Wild horses couldn’t have pulled her off. That leap was the biggest thrill of her life. Laughing hysterically, she kicked the top of the barn doors wishing she could fly forever. Lynn pushed Lou over and over, then jumped on with her. The dogs joined in the fun, chasing and barking.

Though Lynn is lots of fun, Lou didn’t forget she needed to find Grandma as soon as the rain stopped.

Lou and Lynn Part 1 Memorable Moments: Riding Bikes with Grandma

Grandma was old and slow but could be cool sometimes. She was funny, always ready to play with Lou. Best of all, when Lou they got to spend the night together, Grandma told her stories. Not the “once upon a time kind” but stories about when Grandma was a kid. She must have been a cool kid from the tales she told. The stories went on until Lou went to sleep.


Grandma was horrible at video games, so one day they decided to find something else to do.
Once they got outside, Grandma was worried about riding a scooter. She poked along on an old bicycle, wobbling every time she hit a little bump. “Whoa! Don’t go off and leave me!” It was hard to ride that slowly. Lou rode in circles so Grandma could keep up.

They didn’t get too far before Grandma needed a break. It must be exhausting being that old. Lou was dizzy from the circling anyway. As they parked under a tree and dug into their snack bags, a bolt of lightning split the sky, Thunder crashed all around them. Soon, it was raining so hard they couldn’t see as far as the road. Lou wished she was safe at home with her parents.

Grandma was upset. “There was’t a cloud in the sky when we left! How did this pop up?”

”What are we gonna do? Lou asked. “I’m scared!”

”I don’t like it either” Grandma said. Just then, another ear-splitting crash of thunder rattled the sky.

The next thing Lou knew, she was picking herself up off the ground, surrounded by fallen pears. Grandma must have been scared and run off. Lou was surprised. She didn’t think Grandma could get out of sight that fast, The sun came out. As Lou looked around, a girl fell out of the tree, almost on top of her. She dusted off her shorts and picked up a couple of pears. “Wow! You have a bike. I wish I had a bike! Do you want a pear?”
Lou had never had a pear straight from a tree, nor even seen a pear tree.

“Nah! I’ve got a juice box and some grapes in my backpack.” When Lou looked around, neither her backpack nor Grandma was anywhere in sight.

”Where am I? Where’s my grandma? She was just here.” Lou was confused.

”You’re on my family’s farm and I never saw your Grandma. We’ll look around for her. What’s your name? I’m Lynn. Come on!”

“I’m Lou and I have to find Grandma I don’t remember being this far from town. There’s not even a real road here.” Lou kicked a rock out of the dirt road.

“Come on, Lou. It looks like a break in the rain! Let’s get in the barn before we get soaked!” Lynn took off running, her ponytail bouncing. Her bare feet kicked up a dust. How in the world could she run like than on rocks?

Rain pelted the girls as they dashed in the huge barn doors. As Lou’s eyes got used to the shadows, she saw dust dancing in the sunbeams in through the big open doors. The strange smell made her sneeze. Huge stacks of hay were stacked high up the barn walls, reaching all the way to the ceiling. A few big dog flop-eared dogs burst through the open doors, barking like the they were having a contest. Jumping up on the stairs steps of hay, they rolled around drying themselves off. A big one jumped on a couple of puppies like she was going to tear them apart!

”Stop them’” Lou yelled. “That big dog is going to hurt those puppies!” Lynn didn’t act worried at all.

”Nah. That’s their mama. She’s just teaching them some manners. Here puppies.” At that, the puppies bounced down like rubber balls, licking Lynn for all they were worth. “These silly guys always think I need a bath.”

By now, the rain was pounding the roof so hard Lou had to shout to make herself heard. “Is this a tornado?”

Lynn laughed.”No. It’s fine. Haven’t you ever heard rain on a tin roof?

To be continued

A Hog a Day Part 6

We were sitting around the fire one Saturday night in Mr. Grady Rose’s sitting room.  The only light came from the fire.  All the little kids lounged on the floor in front of the fire, pleasantly tired from an afternoon of play with full bellies. Mr. Grady looked like a gray-haired bear in overalls, not so tall, as burly and powerful. I loved hearing him talk about raising his boys. “I had to kill a hog a day to feed them boys. I told ‘em lot’s of times, ‘Them that don’t work, don’t eat.’ I always go to bed real early and am up by four. That’s the way I was raised. I can’t sleep past four, even in the dead of winter even if I ain’t got a bunch of cows to milk. I used to be out milking while Bessie cooked breakfast. Now I just sit and watch her. Anyhow, one morning up in January, them boys decided they wadn’t getting up. Bessie called ‘em once and they didn’t make a peep. I give ‘em just a little bit and hollered for ‘em to get up. Then I headed out to milk, ‘spectin’ to be right behind me when I noticed, they ain” got up yet.

I hollered up the stairs for ’em. One of ‘em got smart and hollered back ‘We ain’t getting up yet.  Ain’t no use in gittin’up at four just to sit around waitin’ for daylight.’

That got me hot.  I ain’t raising no slackers.  I went straight out to the barn and come back with the plow lines.  I brung ’em back in there and gave one or two licks over them boy’s quilts and they come flying out of that bed just a hollerin’.  All four of ’em was fightin’ and pullin’ each other back trying to git outta my way.   I didn’t have no way of knowing then on account of all the racket, but the deputy sheriff had just raised his hand to knock on the door.  Them four boys busted that front door down and gave him a good stompin’, trying to git away.

He grabbed up his hat, took off runnin’ the other way, jumped in the car and took off.  Turns out he was comin’ out to give me a summons for jury duty.  He went back to town and told the sheriff he wadn’t goin’ back.  Them folks was crazy out there.”

 

 

A Hog a Day Part 2

We all piled in Daddy’s GMC truck and headed for Mr. Rose’s house as soon as my sister caught the school bus.  I was normally jealous she got to  to school, but today, I was glad to be going to the Rose’s. I was in hopes I’d get to ride in the back of the truck with its tall cattle frame but Mother shot that down.  Billy and I bounced along on the seat between Mother and Daddy, dust fogging in the open windows as we made our way down that red dirt road way back to the Rose’s farm.
Even though it was hot and hadn’t rained in days, its deep, dried ruts made for slow.going. From time to time, Daddy made a point to hit a bump harder, just to give us a delightful thrill. I was amazed to see a young doe and her fawn step out of the deep woods and cross in front of us.  I’d heard of deer, but never seen one.  I was hopeful Santa’s sleigh might be right behind her, but Mother assured me he’d only be around at Christmas.

Eventually the Rose’s neat farm and unpainted house came into view.  Billy and I trailed Daddy and Mr. Rose to the barn, where they were loaded up a few squealing pigs to take to the auction.  Daddy always did such fascinating things, while Mother stayed home to cook, clean, and take care of the kids.  It didn’t look like much of a deal to me.  I decided early on I needed to figure out a way to be a boy, an idea I abandoned later.  The pigs didn’t seem happy at all about their ride in the truck, even though they did get to ride in the back.

Pigs loaded, the men disappeared on their journey.  At the time, a trip to the auction with a truckful of squealing pigs seemed as epic as setting off to search for the Holy Grail, had I heard of such a thing.  Even though I’d been told I wasn’t going, my heart broke anew seeing them drive off with that load of pigs.  Life just wasn’t fair!  I needed to ride in the back of that truck with those pigs and maybe see another deer.

Heartbroken, I staggered back to the house where I found Mother and Miss Bessie having coffee at the oil-cloth covered kitchen table.  Salt, pepper, a jug of syrup, a sugar bowl, a jar of homemade jam, and one of those cute, tiny cans of Pet Milk sat in the center of the table.  My feelings were greatly repaired when Miss Bessie set a plate with a jam-filled biscuit and two slices of bacon in front of me.   Then, wonder of wonders, she asked if I wanted a cup of coffee.  At our house, no coffee or tea for children was a moral issue.  My parents frequently remarked how wrong it was that one of my aunts allowed her children sips of coffee.  Unbelievably, Mother allowed it, “Just this one time.”  Miss Bessie poured a little coffee, mixed in a lot of milk, and two teaspoons of sugar.  That was the best cup of coffee I ever had.  That heavenly elixir totally cured my heartbreak.

to be continued