Drive - A Memoir 51st Installment
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comment. A first time for me.
Thinking
about that trip I remember we were coming home from Cousin Danny’s
birthday party. Where from? I don’t remember. Anyway, there was
Russ, Danny and I in the back; Brent was shotgun up front with
Richard who was driving his T–bird. We were barreling down the
frontage road, through the desert, during the seventh year of the
jackrabbit cycle. There were jackrabbits in sight all the time
crossing the road or along the road. Richard had inadvertently hit a
few, so Brent said, “That’s seven.” When he hit another someone
queried, “Don’t that make eight?” We all laughed. After that
Richard seemed to speed up, and we felt him swerving from time to
time. “That’s nine.” He was trying to hit them, and we were all
on the edge of our seats, wild eyed and excitedly ready to
participate in this count–down or count–up in this case. The fun
went on and on as we counted. Swerve… thud…. “Thirty one”.
Screech of tires… wallop… “Forty five.” “We missed our turn
off.” Brent said…. Thump… “Seventy seven.” Richard was on a
roll, and we realized he was after a world record (unofficial) of a
hundred jackrabbits in one car ride. It didn’t take long before the
number was ninety, and he turned around toward home again. It was
just before we turned on to the Market Lake road a couple of miles
from the farm – Thwack! “One Hundred! One Hundred! One Hundred!”
we shouted and butt danced in our seats singing one hundred, one
hundred all the way home.
Chapter
12
Phil
died at night that cold winter of 62, on our couch in the living room
a couple of days ago. I didn’t see him, dead I mean. None of the
children did. Edith and Vernon, with the help of a county official,
took him away during the early morning. Phil didn’t seem old to me;
in fact, he seemed strong, commanding in a room, and mostly really
smart. Phil didn’t have knowledge of ways to solve world problems
with a narrow comprehension of science or politics, but he had a wide
knowledge of everything directly around us in the world – wide, but
not deep.
We
didn’t know much about cancer. I was afraid of it because it was
fast, after very little time Phil looked double his age and half his
size. In the last week of his sickness, when the cancer had spread
all through him, he even stopped reading, and that’s the way I knew
he must be very ill. I avoided the living room where he was sick, and
even after he was gone I was edgy in the living room. I especially
avoided the couch. I was told everything was okay, but not to me it
wasn’t.
The
winter was hard work because of the cold; everything took extra time
to finish; a lot of things just
500 more words tomorrow
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