Carrying the milk pail

 Well, after Billy was born, the whole routine of our lives was thrown into something that resembled Bob’s bedroom.  Everywhere I looked was a pile of clothes and dishes, just like his room.  Bob had a wall behind the headboard, and that was where he wiped his boogers.  Before Billy, Mom wiped down that wall almost every day, but now his boogers reached as high as I could reach on the wall.  Bob was so proud and showed it off to Donnie, who said he had a booger wall, too

 Deanie Smith  and his family had moved to their newly built house out toward Hunter’s Cemetery.  Bob and I visited him twice before Billy was born, and admired the new features of the place.  Turquoise tile covered the bathroom walls and floors, and I mean everywhere.  The toilet was also turquoise and the sink, too.  The windows even had a frilly turquoise print.  I half expected some sort of netting under the print, but I guess Deanie's mom didn’t like netting either.

Since Deanie lived out so far in town, Mom didn’t let me run over there with Bob, who had his Little Silver tricycle and could pedal there faster.  Bob’s knees were rubbing the handlebars, and I knew the way things worked when it came to hand-me-downs.  I soon would inherit the trike, and I would paint it bright green.  So, Bob went to Deanie's house alone, by himself, without me, leaving me behind.  My heart broke each time I watched his back as he pedaled furiously along the buckling sidewalks, and sometimes I hoped he would tip over and get scraped up, so he would have to come home.  But that never happened.

 

It was just me and Mom with Billy, who by now was called “Bill” by everyone else but me.  Someone who so disrupted my life and changed everything I knew deserved a big name.  During the day, Billy was a charmer and I could tell that Grandma had chosen him to be her favorite.  It wasn’t difficult to see why.  He had wispy blond hair and blue eyes, with round red cheeks.  He stuck his tummy out to be tickled and kicked his legs as he laughed.  I tried to do these tricks in front of Grandma Carter, as I lay on the floor at her feet, but she just stepped over me.

 

At night, Billy would be in my old crib, sleeping with his diapered bottom up in the air.  Mom and Dad would stand over the crib, looking down at him with such deep happiness and love, while I watched from my own little bed not three feet away.  They kissed his downy soft cheeks and patted his back.  Then Mom would come over and give me a quick kiss on my hair somewhere, pull the covers up, and say, “’Night, sugar.”  Dad just left and turned off the light.  I would fall asleep, feeling like I had disappeared from the family, and no one noticed.

 

Even the morning routine, where I used to sit on Dad’s lap and helped him drink his coffee was over.  Sure, Bob would go over to Mom and get his hugs, but Dad’s arms were full holding “Billy” and talking to him.  I slunk up into my chair until Dad looked up and said good morning like he was talking to some stranger on the street.  I don’t think my head could hang any lower than it was then. 

 

After a while I knew what would happen next: my brothers would eat and run out to play. Deanie would show up at the door on his brand new shiny red tricycle and Bob would run off with him; Dad would go to milk Blackie; and, I would mope around the back yard where Mom could keep an eye on me.  No prison could ever be as bad as this.

 

I guess someone had noticed my beaten-wet-dog expression one particular morning, because when Dad stood up to go milking, he looked directly at me and said, “Sis, you wanna come with me to milk the cow?”

 

Did I!  You betcha I wanted to go with Dad to milk the cow.  Bob and I had never ever gone with him to do this chore, and now I was going to go with him.  “Hurry on up and get your clothes on!”  Dad said with a crooked smile, giving Mom a look.  She looked at him with an expression on her face that clearly said, “You’d better know what you’re doing, buster.”  I think Mom and Dad could talk to each other without using words.  I ran to my room and put on a clean tee shirt with a clean blouse, over clean pants.  I put on clean socks and then worked my feet into my tied sneakers.   I grabbed a fresh bandana from a drawer and took it to Mom.

 

Mom tied it around my head, and gave me the power words that I could never ignore.  “Do what your dad tells you.  Be a helper.”  I nodded, while my feet were dancing on their own, ready to run alongside my dad’s long legs.  Dad put on his John Deere cap, and moved it to the side, looking like he did on Memorial Day.  He picked up the sterilized bucket with its lid, and kissed Mom, full on the lips.  I looked down, a little embarrassed, like I had just seen something I wasn’t supposed to see.  Then Dad looked at me and said, “Let’s go, Sis!”  Such simple words, but they made me so very happy.

 

He took my hand and let me carry the milk pail with the other.  I skipped alongside his long stride, swinging the pail, and talking as if I hadn’t spoken in a hundred years, or longer.  I talked about everything that came to my mind, and it was a rambling expression of a four year old who never had had the sole attention of an adult in her whole young life. 

Dad smiled and nodded, and I knew he wasn’t really listening, but I was holding his hand, and he let me carry the milk pail all by myself. 

feeding a calf

Timelessness

The thing about childhood is its timelessness. One day it is the birthday. Next week it will be Christmas and a few days later it will be Halloween. Easter? Just after midnight. All this was a child’s life until a Big Yellow Bus pulled up and the once-little children marched up the steps, lunchboxes in hand. Realism flattened them with a brutal calendar, ruling a child's life.

Somewhere shuffled in there was summer vacation, Oh, Thank you, Dear Lord! Summer vacation opened a world that had always existed but never had been recognized in our own child world, wedged in between Easter and maybe Valentine’s Day. But now, the power of bikes and open streets called. I have missed you so much. Come, join me. Spin your wheels. Have band aids at the ready.

We were not yet part of the Big Yellow Bus crew. No, the calendar deemed that we were too young. Someday we would have lunchboxes and climb up the steps to the glory of education. But for now, we could just gaze at a future, hands clutched on handlebars.

We watched our brother Don as he tore out onto the street with other nine-year-old boys. They laughed while my brother Robert and I stood by his trike in the grass until all that could hear was their laughter and crickets. Riding a trike along narrow sidewalks held so little joy that our faces dropped down to our feet and dragged on the grass. So, we pedaled along the sidewalks with Robert taking on the pedals, long strong legs while I stood on the back with my skinny girl legs

Maintenance repairs were on the calendar, the all-knowing calendar which said that those streets needed some work, coated with hot black tar. The bikers would be grounded just like the rest of us with trikes. The big boys ran off to play in the creek, enjoying freedom of nine-year-old. Our faces drooped.

While the trucks sprayed the new gravel on the streets, Robert and I lay in the grass listening to workers swear, watching them smoke. At least they were happy in a greasy black tar world. We instead scratched at mosquito bites and chewed on peanut butter sandwiches held by our grimy hands.

Next day, it was stinkin’ hot. That’s what Mom always said when it was hot like this: It’s stinkin’ hot. When it was that bad, plants fried, and black tar bubbled in puddles on the road. What Mom had to say about that was a stream of instructions and threats about our future existence if we disobeyed and charged into the black tar on the road.

We nodded with solemn faces. Of course. We wouldn’t go near the black tar. Shoot, that would be crazy. When Mom sensed our level of obedience would be nearly complete, she stood up and away, returning to whatever she normally did. We took off as fast as Robert’s legs could pedal, over stretches of uneven sidewalk and through still stinkin’ hot air.

Our zeal hit a full stop when it was clear the length of our adventure was about 100 feet. Being stinkin’ hot, Robert’s five-year-old legs and my four-year-old strength gave out and no adventures could be had. And this is where everything gave out and a new decision had to be made. This is sad part of my memory when we concluded that something new and exciting needed to occur.

It did as we pulled up by the Christian Church where a wedding had just occurred. All the congregation had headed to the schoolhouse where a reception was set up in the cafeteria. How were we to know the photos and photo opportunities were capturing the joy of walking down the church steps and through the fluffy bridesmaids’ gauntlet. It was ignorance on our part, never having been to a wedding and seeing tradition play out before us.

I sensed vibration filling Robert when he had a miraculous and an inspired idea. He did a U-turn, trike lined up at the wedding party. Oh, Robert!  Mom said, we can’t, we shouldn’t…But we took the jump, and made a decision.

 He geared up some strength and veered into puddle of bubbling tar, tires picking up as much of it as possible. Robert swerved left, heading straight for the gauntlet of pink chiffon dresses and rented tuxedos. Before they perceived any threat, Robert tore through the line of pink ladies, who were now screaming.

The hot tar sprayed off the wheels, splattering hot tar on the field of fluffy dresses and black tuxes. I can still hear the screams and the words that flowed from the tuxes-up men. They had a large vocabulary. While the air was filled with anger and dismay, we took off.

Adrenaline filled us both as we disappeared behind Lena Foote’s house and through the thick bushes separating Lens’ garden from Mom’s.  Robert was so fast, and I squeezed his shoulders, giggling in his ear. The screams and profanity grew fainter as Robert swung the trike into Dad’s old car shed, stopping it with sheer ease.  This is where good decisions had to be made.

 

Robert had a hiding spot he used frequently, and we crawled into it, waiting for police sirens to visit the wedding party. The volume of the screams lessened until it stopped. Dead silent. That was when we examined our clothing to see just how badly we had been sprayed ourselves.  Nothing, nothing at all. We were pure, sinless and safe.

Still fearing a reaction for our parents, we casually wandered through the kitchen door and headed to the bathroom to wash up. Again, we saw no evidence of our carnage. Instead we held our breaths, anticipating police to storm through the house and grab us by the scruffs of our clothes. Nothing. We sauntered back out the door and rejoiced, laughing.

Our folks never knew about this.

It was not until some 30+ years later that we told them about this event, this glorious event. What? We never heard anything about this. Are you serious? Yes, why yes, we were. I could even show them where the tar streaks still crossed diagonally over the sidewalk. God is good. He always provides.

Hidden Secret

 

In Preacher’s Creek 

Secret in the Barn        S.E.Kane        May 8, 2014 

It was a story that begged the telling, but could not bear to be spoken.  Yet, seventy years after it came to pass, it was time.  It was released and so was the teller. 

 

They were old women now, the both of them, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and pieces of apple pie.  Louise was the maker of the pie, it was her house, and it was her kitchen.  Her older sister Grace suddenly shrank into something heavy from within.  “Girl, I gotta tell you something.  Something that happened to me, and I must tell someone before I die.” 

 

Louise was stunned.  Grace was never a keeper of secrets, but this one weighed heavily upon her.  Louise leaned toward Grace, placing one old veined hand over another’s old veined hand.  Grace squeezed it and looked into Louise’s eyes, as her own eyes streamed quiet tears. 

 

“You went off with Ma to Quincy to buy new shoes, and she dropped me off at Uncle Lew’s house.  She said I could play with snotty cousin Velma while you all went off.” 

 

She paused and blew her nose into a hanky. 

 

“Well, me and Velma were playing in the barn when her three older brothers showed up.  Lyndle was holding a stick and a bread wrapper.  Velma giggled and said that we were gonna do something fun, really fun! 

 

“The brothers made me stretch out on the barn floor with Harold and Melvin holding my arms down.  Whatcha you doing?  Whatcha you doing?  I got real scared.   

 

“Lyndle grabbed my legs, spread ‘em wide apart, so Velma could kneel between ‘em.  Then Velma…” Grace gulped back tears, her voice turning ragged.  “Velma put the stick into the bag wrapper, and she told me this was gonna be real fun, ‘cause she’d seen her ma and pa do this all the time. 

 

“Velma put that stick in my woman parts.  She gave me a big grin.  Then she shoved it all the way in.  I screamed and screamed and screamed.  Aunt Lydia opened the kitchen door with a dish rag in her hand and she called out What you kids doing out there?  Come outta that barn! 

 

“The boys ran off as Velma pulled the stick out of my woman parts.  The bread wrapper was all bloody, and Velma turned white.  She said You wipe yourself off and go on home, now!  She threw a dirty rag at me, and ran to the horse trough to wash off. 

 

“I put that rag in my old bloomers and tucked it up as tight as I could.  Then I ran home.  ‘Member our old house, just down the road from Aunt Lydia’s house?  Well, I barely got there, I was so weak.  Ran up the stairs and filled the tub with water.  I soaked in it, and it turned pink.  Emptied the water, poured more water, emptied it, until the bath tub water was clean.” 

 

Louise was silent, the front of her apron wet with tears and her eyes opened wide.  OhGraceohGrace…. With hands over her mouth, Louise shook her head.  No..no..no..no… 

 

“I knew where Ma kept the pads for that time of the month and I put one on.  Took my bloody clothes out to the pump, rubbed them and rubbed them.  They would come clean.  So, took ‘em down to the creek and threw it all in the muddy water.  They rolled down the creek with the mud covering the blood. 

 

“When you and Ma come back, I told her I was bleeding, it was my time of the month for the first time.  She was happy, called me her my big girl.  I never told her, never told anyone ‘til now. 

 

“Something was tore inside, but it musta healed.  But that’s why I never had babies.  The doctor told me that the tear got infected and ruined my uterus. Ernest was just as happy, since he was a selfish son of a bitch who drank more than he did anything else. 

 

“So, that’s it.  That’s what I had ta tell you.”  Grace cleared the table, while Louise couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.  “I’ll do the dishes, you just go rest now.  You look darn tired.”  She paused and looked out the kitchen window.  “Looks like we got a storm coming.  Want me to bring in the laundry?”  And without waiting for an answer, Grace picked up the clothesbasket, going outside to bring in the underwear.