Selfish

Broken Arm

Grandma lived near the Gulf Coast with my Aunt Cookie, Uncle Riley and Cousin Barbie. The long drive to their house was covered in crushed shells rather than gravel. Apparently, it had just been resurfaced, making it a bit challenging to maintain your footing, especially in areas where shell filled deep holes.

Barbie was one lucky kid. An only child, she never had to share. Her parents had never introduced the concept. Any time one of us approached a toy, she threw a screaming fit. Aunt Cookie and Uncle Riley backed her up, wishing we weren’t so selfish as to make precious little Barbie scream.

I’d never seen so many toys as Barbie had in her toy room. There was no furniture, nor toy box, just wall-to-wall toys, piling up along every wall and extending up a couple of feet in all four corners. There wasn’t a bare spot on the floor. After we’d tossed things around a few minutes, we’d even have the door blocked. A great deal of the time, we’d just be on a treasure hunt, digging up one amazing find after another. Billy would hold an incredible toy he’d just excavated and Barbie would run shrieking to try wrench it from his grip. Meanwhile, I’d unearth another jewel, causing her to abandon her earlier quest. We usually kept her running and screaming till she exhausted herself. Cookie would give us “the look” and hustle poor caterwauling Barbie off for some cuddling and consolation time. Cookie was always trying to stave off Barbie’s athsma, While Barbie slept it off, we partied.

On this particular day, while our nemesis slept her fit off, we prowled around and found a tiny, red bike with training wheels stowed in the garden shed. The hard rubber wheels were barely six-inches in diameter. It still sported training wheels. It was barely used. Cookie and Uncle Riley were wildly overprotective of their little angel and likely hid it after Barbie tipped over a time or two.

Billy, an overgrown eight-year-old, was far too big for the minuscule bike, but he gave it his best shot. He knees nearly bumped his chin as he tried to pedal through the deep shells in the drive.He bogged down as he struggled to move. Grandpa sat on porch dourly watching. “Boy, you’ gonna fall off an’ break yore alarm!”

Billy didn’t bother to answer, just struggled on. Bless Pat, if he didn’t dip into a hidden hole, take a dive, and lay howling on the ground. Sure enough, his arm was broken. To this day, he’s disgusted.

Babies and More Babies

I Connie and Marilyn's Toddler Pictures

I was I was eight years old when my whole world changed.  Mother had a baby.  Never having been much interested in babies, this one seemed like a waste of time.  Life was far better before the baby.  Mother was nicer; not constantly carping about being tired.  She’d also gotten incredibly lazy, now expecting me to fold towels, dust, and clear my own dishes from the table.  I hadn’t minded the first time or two, especially when she thanked me so effusively, but when it became obvious she expected it to be a regular thing, I was disgusted.

Not only that, Mother went on and on about how much things cost now.  It made no sense that before the baby, there had always been plenty of money for cowboy boots, the ice cream man, and trips to Grandma’s.  Now we were poor.  She got her stupid baby and now I got nothing.

Eventually, Connie started playing and I loved her  Before too long, Mother got the pathetic mopes again.  She got lazier than ever, sat around with her feet up or took to her bed for hours at a time, sometimes even crying a little.  In desperation, Daddy even hired a lady to help out.  I loved Miss Annie, but she seemed a lot more interested in Connie than me.  Mother did nothing but lie around and play with Connie, till she she started sewing.  She bragged to her friend one day that she’d hand-made and embroidered eight baby dresses.  My jealousy alarm went off.

Kids”

“Mother, make something for me.”  I had no use for dainty embroidered dresses, but surely she could come up with something!

“You’re too bigI can’t handmake anything for you.”

I made a point to be crushed, devastated by her selfishness, going out to pout as long as I could manage it.  Fortunately, I had a short attention span and soon got lost in play. The next day, Mother had Marilyn.  By this time, I knew babies quickly got cute, so I loved her from the start.

..

HO! HO! HO! Deer Season Doesn’t Come But Once a Year

Daddy took his hunting very seriously.  This was a man’s sport, an entitlement.  Real men hunted and fished.  A man’s outdoor gear was a reflection of him.  Daddy would have sooner worn lace panties than not follow the unwritten rules. His hunting gear was a necessity, not an extravagance like a dependable car, bills paid on time, and clothes for Continue reading →