Friday, February 10, 2017

Drive - A Memoir 41th Installment

problem was his problem or she told him to. I guess he was hungry too.
Yes, we did eat with the men,” Linda remembered quietly.
Uh–huh,” just as meekly, Vicki added.

Eddie (age 5) and Jerry (age 3) sensing the impending storm was over, toddled over to Edith with their plates knowing they got to eat pretty much when ever they wanted. Oh, the joy of youth. Baby Carma (age 1) didn’t know if the impending storm was over, started to cry. Edith, feeling like she had to justify this arbitrary position, said more to herself than anyone, “I was raised to think this way. I was the only girl with four brothers. They ruled the place, and I had to take care of them and their stuff or face the consequences. I had a hard childhood.”

That’s not true,” Phil, Edith’s brother, said. That surprised us all because Phil rarely put more than two words together and this was three. Mostly we forgot he was there; he was like a piece of furniture or a lamp. The only times he spoke was when he played cards or he was drunk.

Was too,” Edith said so silently that only I heard her. Then she started making bread; she always made bread to come down from an emotional high. Fifteen minutes of kneading, stretching, pounding down and re–kneading the rubbery dough sucked her high emotions through her hands and into our bread. We had real emotion–filled bread sometimes. I loved it when she got mad and made breadhot bread only minutes from the ovenslathered with fresh churned buttermaybe some raspberry or strawberry jam from the berry patcha glass of cold milk to go with the steaming hot, soft, melt–in–your–mouth breadit doesn’t get any better than thisI was in hog heaven. The only thing better could be home made, raised dough bread biscuits.
Speaking of which, the eight years I attended Hamer elementary, Mrs. Wilma, a local farmwife and home cooking master, made an extra tray of homemade biscuits right out of the oven just for me! I was a little famous among the cooks who seemed to enjoy doing this for me. The cafeteria at the little school was like a mother’s kitchen, and the food was prepared from scratch with mostly local ingredients and served like we were just a big family.

Chapter 9
There were only about fifty kids in all eight grades that attended Hamer Elementary School – and most of them were bussed to Hamer Elementary from Terreton and farms in between – about twenty miles southwest toward Arco.

As far as I was concerned, Hamer Elementary was the best school experience any child could have; I loved it. There were four rooms built around two sides of a gym with a stage at one end. The gym was dug into the ground so the school’s hallway was around the

500 more words tomorrow

Related Articles


Post a Comment


Powered by Blogger.