Tales from a Free-Range Childhood Page 14

  Back now in our front yard, we chose up teams. As always, it ended up with Larry and me against Joe and Ronnie. We lined up for the kickoff—away from the window, of course. I held the ball. Larry ran and kicked. The ball tumbled end over end through the air.

  No one in the world would ever have believed that my brother, Joe, might have caught the ball again. No one ever had to believe such a thing because he didn’t. Ronnie caught the ball.

  Ronnie seemed to know exactly what to do. He instantly handed the ball off to Joe, and with a burst of speed he turned and ran the other way. Larry and I had no choice; we jumped on Joe and smashed him into the ground.

  He was crying before we could get off of him. Joe rolled over, but he could not get up from the ground. All his left arm could do was to drag along behind the rest of his body. We had broken his other collarbone. Larry and Ronnie ran home before Mama got out there. I tried to help Joe carry his loose arm over to the car to wait for her to take him back to the hospital.

  In a couple of hours, Chicken Boy was back home again.

  We did not have the trip to Fontana Village. But we did have a little show at home that night. It was at the dinner table. It was a show between Mama and Daddy, but it also included the rest of us.

  Mama’s emotions had now all turned from worry to anger. She was mad about both broken collarbones (even though the first one had already healed), and for some reason she was mad at me! It didn’t even seem to matter that Larry had been in on it, too. No, it was declared to be totally my fault.

  “What were you thinking about? I know the answer: ‘Nothing.’ That is the answer. You were not thinking at all. What are you trying to do? Break all of your brother’s bones? Do you want me to make you a bone chart so you can break one, check it off, break the next one, check it off? They think that you are smart at school. That just shows what they know at school!”

  Daddy couldn’t hold it any longer. He burst out laughing, almost doubled over on the kitchen table. He couldn’t help himself. He simply shook with deep laughs.

  Instantly, Mama’s anger shifted its focus. Now, Daddy was the target. “This is not funny, mister! What are you laughing about? You are just like your son: you think you are smart and are not! Well, look at your son. Look at him and tell him right now how smart you think he is!” She was red in the face.

  Daddy looked peacefully at me. He thought for a moment, then he started: “Son, you are smart. I will even tell you how smart you are. You are so very smart that you know better than to break your own bones the way your mama did it!”

  That was all that was said. Mama almost passed out, but she could say nothing at all. There she sat, more than thirty years later, with the break bumps still on her arms. She was totally silent . . . for several days!

  That Sunday afternoon, everyone ended up out in the yard. Larry and Ronnie even came over when they saw that Joe was alive and seemed to be looking well.

  Daddy called the four of us together. “Well, boys, ” he started slowly. “I wanted to talk with you. It seems that we have some new rules for football. Actually, only one new rule. Pay attention: no more football!” And that was it.

  And . . . the big front window never did get broken.

  Chapter 15

  TWO RED COATS

  When our father was born in 1901, he was number eight of thirteen siblings. By the time he was nineteen years old, he was the oldest one still close to home. His older brothers and sister were grown or married or out on their own and into their own lives. So when their father suddenly died, he was the available unmarried child ready to take over the family.

  For more than the next twenty years, he took care of his mother, took care of his aunt Laura, and finished raising his own five little brothers and sisters. He sent four of the five of them to college. He told me once that he “got to be forty years old, and just forgot to get married.” I didn’t think he forgot. I thought he simply didn’t have time to think about it.

  When he was into his early forties, he met my mother, a twenty-five-year-old schoolteacher. They fell in love and ran away and got married. (I later learned from him that the reason they ran away was that he was almost the same age as his new mother-in-law. He thought he and Mama had better hide out for a few days before they came back so it was too late to undo what had happened.)

  So my brother, Joe, and I grew up in a slightly unusual household. Our mother, the oldest of nine children, was now going to be sure that her own children knew how to do the right thing, no matter what. In contrast, our father was now about ready to become a grandfather, and he thought that most of the things we did to annoy our mother were simply funny. His suggestions and his own childhood stories added to our amusement.

  In that world, our father seemed to have two main hobbies. One of his hobbies could be called “spoiling our mother.” The equally important second hobby would have to be called “annoying our mother.” He was such a genius at the practice of these two hobbies that he could often manage to effect both ends in a single event.

  One of the times I most enjoyed watching him practice these hobbies came on Christmas morning when Mama opened the present he had carefully selected just for her. Watching this opening, and her reaction to it, was almost as much fun as opening my own presents.

  I was about seven or eight years old when I first began to observe the pattern of gift giving. That year, I watched as Mama opened a beautifully wrapped long box, and there, all laid out before her eyes, was a perfectly matched set of seven yellow-handled screwdrivers. There was even a little rack that could be mounted on the wall so that, whenever she had need of a screwdriver, all she had to do was reach out and choose the right one for the job. She was so emotionally overcome by this gift that she could not say anything. I could read on her face the depth to which she was impressed by Daddy’s shopping skills.

  One year, she got a bright red wheelbarrow with an inflated rubber tire. Another year, she got a yellow McCulloch chain saw. As she opened it, Daddy sang the theme song: “You’re in luck when you got a McCulloch chain saw!” She was almost as impressed with the music as she was with the gift itself.

  I am certain that she was the first woman on our entire side of town to have her very own weed eater.

  One particular year, however, stands out above all the rest. It was the year when I was eleven years old. That year, Christmas morning came, and as soon as breakfast was finished, wrapped gifts were opened.

  Mama picked up a long and heavy box. She pulled off the ribbon and tore off the paper. The box said, “Turner’s Department Store.” Mama was excited. This had the possibility of being a different kind of year. When the lid came off the box, she screamed, “You got it! You got it!” As she was screeching, she was lifting from the box a bright red, full-length wool overcoat. It was indeed beautiful.

  Mama squeezed into the new coat and marched all around the living room. “It is beautiful, it is so beautiful, ” she chanted over and over again. “Oh, Joe, how in the world did you know that I wanted this? ”

  I was only eleven years old, and I clearly knew the answer to that question. Daddy and Joe and I had watched her try on the red coat at Turner’s Store at least fifty times since September. If he couldn’t figure out by now that she wanted it, then he really was dumb.

  Now, it was his turn to ask a question: “Did I get the right size? ”

  Mama wiggled around in the tight coat and seemed to try to pull her shoulders together in the front. Even an eleven-year-old boy could tell that she needed at least one full size larger. But she was so flattered that he had chosen the little one that she wasn’t about to say anything about it. “It’s beautiful!” Mama admired herself without actually answering his direct question.

  In a little while, it was time to go to my aunt Eddie’s house. The next younger of Mama’s six little sisters, Aunt Eddie (and Uncle David) lived nearby. This year, it was their turn to host both the local and out-of-town relatives for the Christmas Day family gathering.
We loaded food and family presents and headed out in the Plymouth.

  Arriving at Aunt Eddie and Uncle David’s house, Daddy pulled into the front yard with the other family cars that were already there. He and Joe gathered the presents from the backseat and started toward the house, while Mama and I went back to the trunk to get the food we had brought.

  Our offering was totally predictable. (One of us children once asked, “Mama, can you make deviled eggs if you’re not even going anywhere? ”) Deviled eggs rode in the appropriately shaped Tupperware carrier, encircling green lime Jell-O with grated cheese and pineapple in the center. There was also Mama’s fried chicken with my special wishbone piece already hidden under the cloth napkin lining the basket in which it was being carried.

  While we were getting the food out of the car trunk, I noticed something. “Mama, ” I needed to warn her, “you didn’t take the tags off your new coat. They’re hanging right there. Do you want me to pull them off for you? ” I was looking at two rather large slick-paper tags hanging by short strings, one on each side of the new coat.

  “Shhh!” Mama’s finger was up to her mouth as she quickly stuffed the still-attached tags into the side pockets of the coat. “Don’t tell your daddy. It’s too little. I just squeezed into it today for his benefit. On Monday, I am going to take it up to Turner’s Store and swap it for the right size. That’s why it needs to have the tags left on it.”

  “Oh, ” I agreed.

  We carried our food containers and went up to the front door. Since Daddy and Joe had gone into the house already, Aunt Eddie knew that we had arrived. Just as we got to the front door, she met us there. She saw Mama’s coat and squealed, “You got it! Oh, look, you got it!” She and Mama had been both trying on the coats at Turner’s Store. They both wanted the same thing.

  “Did you get one, too? ” Mama asked the question.

  Aunt Eddie chuckled. “We have been working so hard getting ready for everybody to come today that we have not opened a single present. But you know very well that David Boyd did not spend enough money on a present to buy me a coat like that.”

  “Try mine on, Eddie, ” Mama offered. “It’s too little for me. I’m going to swap it on Monday. I bet it will fit you just right.”

  Mama and Eddie looked a whole lot alike except that Mama was, at this time, at least a good full size larger than Eddie. Aunt Eddie put on the red coat, and it fit her perfectly. She marched around and around admiring herself in the reflecting glass of the front windows, then removed the coat and handed it back to Mama. “It really is beautiful, and warm, too!”

  Aunt Eddie took our food back toward the kitchen while we put all of our coats in that place that is built for them: we put them in a pile on the bed in the front bedroom. Then we followed her to the kitchen to start into a semester of eating.

  I looked around the kitchen and took my own roll call of the people gathered there. There were my grandparents, Mama’s mama and daddy. There was Mama and her six little sisters. There was Daddy and the other six brothers-in-law who had married that covey of women. There was my uncle Spencer and his wife, Betty. There was my uncle Steve, not yet nearly old enough to get married. There was a whole passel of what was coming to be more than a dozen cousins. Food was everywhere and in great abundance.

  Our father was the oldest of the brothers-in-law, and the most influential. His hobby of annoying our mama had spread to the others, and no family gathering ever occurred without some sort of planned embarrassment being publicly played out for all to see. The memories of such events were abundant, especially at times of gift giving.

  I remember the year when Aunt Nancy got her new teeth. Aunt Nancy’s reputation, earned or not, was that she never stopped talking. With her new teeth, she could talk better than ever. That year of the new teeth, she opened a Christmas present, and out came a set of wind-up teeth that clattered and chattered and bounced all over the table. “Look, Nancy,” one of the brothers-in-law stated, “those are the teeth you were supposed to get. They’re the only ones that can keep up with your mouth!”

  There was another year when Aunt Betty opened a package, and out came some sort of garment. She held it up, and everyone saw that it was a large, baggy pair of drawers made out of dishcloths. Pinned to the seat of the drawers was a poem that read,

  If you do not like wearing these britches,

  Then step right out and wash the dishes!

  There was always an embarrassing trick in the air. What would it be this time?

  Everyone had eaten a serving or two when Uncle David (Aunt Eddie’s husband) and another one of the uncles sidled out of the kitchen. There was so much going on that no one noticed. They just quietly eased out. The two of them headed to the front bedroom, where they found Mama’s new red coat. They then hunted up a box of the right size, folded the coat carefully into the box, and wrapped it up as a Christmas present from Uncle David to Aunt Eddie. Then the new “present” went under the Christmas tree in the living room.

  Soon, it was time to open all of the presents. Everyone moved out of the kitchen and gathered in the living room. To make it all last longer, one present at a time was opened in front of everyone, with the name of the giver being read out loud for proper credit. This could last for a long time.

  In no time, ribbons and wrapping paper were flying everywhere. There were cousin presents and grandparent presents and brother-sister presents of all kinds. It was a glorious day.

  One of the sisters picked up the long, heavy box and read the name aloud: “Eddie, this one’s for you. I can’t imagine what it is. It is so heavy!”

  The package was handed over. Everyone was watching as Aunt Eddie pulled off the ribbon and tore into the paper. When the lid came off the box, she and Mama screamed at the same time.

  “You got one, too!”

  “I got one, too!”

  In no time, the red coat—the one that fit her perfectly—was out of the box, and Aunt Eddie had slipped into it. Then she went running over to Uncle David, almost crying. Her arms were around his neck. “It is so beautiful! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She gave him a kiss.

  Uncle David had a funny look on his face. This was not at all what was expected. He looked like a person who had just realized that he had stepped into something he was not sure he wanted stuck to his foot.

  Aunt Eddie would not take the coat off. She wore it all over the house, showing it over and over again to everyone and soliciting their admiration. I thought that she might even end up sleeping in it that night.

  Pretty soon, everything was over and it was time to go home. We headed into the front bedroom to get our coats. One of them was not there!

  Mama stood there looking at the empty bed and thinking about things. She was the oldest of all the sisters, and she knew everything there was to know and understand about them and the fellows to whom they were married. It took her only a few seconds to figure out both what had happened and what she was going to do about it. She grinned to herself, then put on a serious face as she marched out into the living room.

  “David Boyd!” She spoke to him in a voice that got everyone’s attention. “Something terrible has happened at your house while we were all enjoying our Christmas dinner. You have left every door and window in this house unlocked and half open, and while we were having a good time some evil, wandering scoundrel has come into your house and stolen my new coat. It is gone from the bedroom!”

  Uncle Ralph laughed out loud. Uncle David tried to laugh but couldn’t quite manage it. Finally, he blustered, “It’s not stolen. Eddie’s wearing it! You know how we like to do tricks. It’s not stolen. Eddie’s got it on!”

  With an extremely stern look on her face, Mama looked at Aunt Eddie as she spoke to Uncle David. “You stop teasing Eddie like that, David. Look how much she loves that coat that you got her. And besides that, look how it fits her. I am bigger than Eddie. I could not even squeeze into that coat. And another thing . . . Eddie’s new coat still has the tags h
anging on the sides of it. You don’t think I would have come out here with the new tags hanging on my coat like Minnie Pearl’s hat, do you? Now, you stop teasing Eddie!”

  With that, Mama gathered us up, and we walked out the door and went home. Uncle David was left standing there strangely and oddly speechless. Uncle Ralph could not stop laughing.

  Nothing was said in the car all the way home, but Mama seemed to be humming a little happy tune to herself all the while.

  When we got home, the telephone started ringing just as we got inside the house. Mama simply said, seemingly to herself, “I think it worked.” Then she answered the telephone.

  It was Aunt Eddie. She was talking so loudly that we could hear it all over the room. “Oh, Lucille,” she gushed, “I cannot believe that David got me this beautiful coat. He has never spent that much money on me in my life. It is just perfect! But he is feeling so terrible that someone came in our house and stole your new coat. He is so upset that he couldn’t even talk with you. He wanted me to call you to see whether you might know of anyplace where he could get you another one.”

  The end of the story came on the following Monday. I still remember going with quite a number of other relatives to watch while, at Turner’s Department Store, Uncle David laid down forty-one dollars to buy Mama the red coat that fit her exactly right. And that was the last time any of those brothers-in-law tried to play holiday tricks on the sisters whom they had married.

  The next Christmas, Daddy got Mama a silver bullet-shaped Electrolux vacuum cleaner. When she opened the gigantic box and saw what was inside, she burst out, “Oh, Joe. How did you ever know that I needed one of these?”

  “It was easy,” Daddy replied with a smile. “Eddie already has one!”

  Chapter 16

  THE LAST WHOOPING

  Whenever punishment happened at home, it was almost always Mama who meted it out. Her well-known switch bush sometimes had a hard time living through the summer, as it was pruned regularly to secure the harvest of switches she needed to handle two boys through the weeks when we were out of school.