CHAPTER 1
The house was quiet, so quiet… I listened for the sounds that used to be… Maggie playing Liebestraum on her violin; Hilda reading True Romance stories out loud as she lay on the bed beside Maggie; Netta talking silly and saying, “How beautiful!” while playing beauty parlor with me, Robbie in the washroom as she washed my face and braided my hair. I was little then, and I listened to the boys building their car out of scrap parts in the yard.
The most joyous sound would come when the telephone on the wall rang two short rings and one long ring. Mama wiped her hands on her apron picked up the receiver and shouted, “Hello,” into the mouth piece. She would listen and then call to us, “The boat’s in! Hurry and get ready, we have to go get Daddy.” The boys would run in from the yard and wash their hands and faces, standing two at a time at the enamel wash bowl in the wash room of that old house which held so many memories.
We would climb into the Model A, four girls in the back seat with me sitting on Netta’s lap. Paul and Mike sat in front with Donny squeezed between them. Mama had combed her hair back into a French twist and put on a fresh house dress. She smiled as she backed the car out the driveway, passed the pine tree and drove toward town to where the boat was docked in Sturgeon Bay.
Daddy came striding down the gang plank, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. We opened the doors of the Ford and surround him, wrapping our arms around his legs and waist, waiting for him to tousle our hair or lift our chin with his forefinger and plant a kiss on our nose. Mama waited patiently, the smile on her face pulled him to her and they hugged.
Back in the car, Daddy drove across the bridge as we all tried to talk at once, telling him about our latest projects. Paul, now sitting in the back seat, leaned over into the front seat, while Mike told about the car they were building out of old wagon wheels and scrap wood. He went into great detail until Mama shifted Donny on her lap and put a hand on Mike’s knee and he slowly wound down the telling of his story.
Mama sat beside Daddy, leaning close, enjoying his presence, happy to have him home, if only for a weekend. He put a hand on her knee and they communicated their love silently.
When the car slowed and pulled into a parking spot in front of Remy’s Ice Cream Parlor we’d shout, “I want chocolate… vanilla… strawberry,” and Daddy would choose one of the big kids to go with him. They’d return carrying double dip ice cream cones. We’d sit in the car and lick our ice cream and talk until Daddy would hand his cone to Mama, while he started the car, shifted gears and we were on the road toward home. Then he’d smile at Mama, take his cone and lick the melting ice cream.
At home Mama handed out the jobs, “Netta and Hilda make some cherry pies; Maggie and Robbie go to the garden and pick some peas and dig some new potatoes. Mike and Donny fill the water pail and the wood box.” She and Paul went to the chicken house; we heard the cackling as we scattered to do our jobs.
Mike took the pail to the pump in the yard and pumped it full to the brim. Maggie and I went to the garden, she pushed the pitch fork into the sandy soil and lifted the roots out of the ground, I pounced on the white potatoes as if they had legs and could run away. When we had a bucket full of potatoes we turned to the row of peas and soon followed Mama and Paul to the house. They each carried two headless chickens.
“Mike, we need more wood and water,” Mama called.
“Let Paul get it, “ Mike whispered under his breath, but a cool look from Mama sent him out the door to refill the water pail, Donny followed him out and when they returned, Mama poured the pail full of water into the tea kettle and handed the pail back to Mike. He shook his head, but headed out the door again bumping into Donny who dropped some of the wood he was carrying.
When steam rose from the spout of the tea kettle, Paul carried it to the back porch where the chickens lay in the galvanized wash tub. After he scalded them, we all set about pulling feathers. Our dog Ring would chase a feather floating through the air until it was out of his reach, then he’d return and sit beside the porch until another of the white feathers took off.
Hours later we gathered at the table, Daddy at the head, Mama at the foot. We seven took our places on each side of them. “Whose turn is it…?” Mama would say and one of the girls would respond, “Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest and let this food to us be blessed.”
Then Paul would respond, “Good Lord, good meat good god let’s eat. Please pass the potatoes!” Bowls of mashed potatoes, green peas, Lettuce salad and a platter of oven fried chicken were passed around the table as we filled our plates and began to eat.
|