Drive - A Memoir 19th Installment
Drive - A Memoir 19th Installment
would
ride home in the ‘bomb bed’ of the bomb carrier, the box behind
the driver’s seat. Riding in this military vehicle was fun but we
knew little to nothing about the military and absolutely nothing
about war. Vernon was classified as II–C (men necessary to farm
labor) and the military draft didn't recruit him into the war so he
couldn't tell war stories for our education or delight. Phil, our
mother's brother did go to war and came back somewhat mentally
damaged by the horrors of killing; he told very few stories about the
war.
Phil
lived out his last years of life mostly in our farm house. When he
wasn't living with us, he lived in the canal company's pump house. He
was the ditch rider enforcing the user’s rules and patrolling the
canal banks looking for problems and water thieves. When he wasn't on
the canal working, he was at the Hamer store and bar playing cards;
when he wasn't drinking and playing cards, he was reading. Phil was a
big but slim man, always looking stern, to the point of looking sour.
We were a little scared of him (especially when he was drunk) in a
'He's
going to lose his patience and yell angrily in our faces'
kind
of fear.
“Let's
play some Bridge,” he would suggest almost every night he stayed
with us, putting down the one thousandth book he was reading. He had
read every book Vernon and Edith owned, every book the neighbors gave
him, and all the books in the Hamer store. He would even read every
Readers Digest book section and most of the encyclopedia set. “Vernon
and Edith will play and I need one of you boys as a partner,” he
would say glaring at us. Game playing in our family was intense,
especially in the dark cold winter months with no other outlet for
excitement on a quiet night. When we were little we played checkers,
Sorry, Monopoly, and Chinese Checkers for fun (Edith loved Chinese
Checkers). When we grew a little older we played games like Chess and
card games like Seven–Up and Hearts. We were taught to play hard
but fair; we were pushed to play better, making few mistakes, and
expected to win even against adults. Still older, we moved to
Pinochle and Whist, games that were a lot more difficult with complex
scenarios and much more to memorize. Russ and I played with intensity
and the ethic we had for work and a friendly competitiveness. Then
next on the progression of difficulty was the ultimate mind game –
Contract Bridge!
“I
don't know how to play Bridge.” I would always complain.
“You
do too!” Phil scowled.
“Not
your kind of game; you're a chess kind of Bridge player, and I’m a
checkers kind of Bridge player,” I would argue. I meant it; the
game was too serious to my way of thinking. The fun would soon wane
and the take–no–prisoners
500 more words tomorrow
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