Friday, February 24, 2017

Drive - A Memoir 51st Installment

no 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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