Before being old enough to attend school, I slept in a crib suitable for newborns through their sixth year; one side rail down, pushed in a corner of Mary and Betty’s bedroom. My sisters mostly ignored me except when it was bedtime and I wouldn’t stop talking. At those times, I was told, “Shut up!” Sometimes I felt in the way. Sometimes they’d stop talking when I came into the room. Then one of them would say, “Little pitchers have big ears.” I wanted to know what they had been talking about. I was also confused, because I knew pitchers didn’t have ears. Then there were other times when they made me feel like their personal comedian. I loved that!
The new school year had recently started, so my siblings were gone all day, either at school or at a job. Each day, I spent hours following Daddy all over the farm as he did his work. He called me his little shadow. I chattered to him non-stop in my childish lisp.
One morning, Mom sat at her sewing machine. I didn’t know what she was making, but knew that whatever it was, everyone would get to see it when it was finished. That evening Mom held up the material I’d seen her working on. She said to me, “I made a quilt for you.” She’d taken an old, thread-bare blanket, folded it in half, and covered it by sewing new material on both sides. To secure the quilt, Mom had used white yarn to make ties through all the layers every several inches.
I wrapped the quilt around me. The material felt cool, but warm and comforting at the same time. The pattern on the material reminded me of the spade, club and hearts I’d seen on playing cards, but these were the colors of blue, brown, and white. It wasn’t big like other quilts we had in the house. It was just the size of my crib. I loved the immediate feeling of coolness when I wrapped myself in it, so I began to call it my, “cole cover”. What I really meant to call it was my cold cover. I became very attached to that small quilt.
I had a childish habit of pronouncing some words wrong. I said “cole” instead of cold. Instead of learning to pronounce these words correctly, I continued to say them wrong, mostly because two of my siblings, who were six and seven years older than me, thought I was hilarious. I loved the attention.
One weekend, three cousins came to spend the afternoon with us. They were all close to the same age as Mary and Betty. When I wanted to join the group, one of my sisters exclaimed to the cousins, “You have to hear how Kathy says some words!”
My sister ordered, “Kathy, say, davenport!” In 1955 the sofa in our living room was called a davenport because that was the name of a popular East coast furniture company who made sofas.
Like a little trained monkey, I grinned and said, “Dam-port!” My cousins howled with laughter.
My sister demanded, “Say aluminum.”
I proudly pronounced, “Alumin-num-num.” The cousins laughed again.
My sister instructed, “Now say, hamburger.”
I obediently responded, “Hamburg-ger-ger.” I honestly didn’t know to stop the repetitive num-nums and ger-gers.” These were alliterations born of compulsion. Everyone thought I was funny, but my moment in the spotlight was over.
Just as I was about to follow my sisters and cousins outside, Mom decided it was time for my Saturday night bath. I protested to no avail. Once in the tub, I lathered the bar of soap until I was sitting in a bubble bath. When Mom wanted me to come out of the bath, I strenuously objected. She eventually got me to exit the water, but not before my fingers and toes developed wrinkled skin.
Donned in a floor length cotton nightgown, I escaped the house. The older girls were playing a game of Seven Steps Around the House. I didn’t know the rules of the game and wasn’t convinced that anyone else did, either. There was a lot of shouting and laughter. The sun slowly slid down the sky and the grass under my bare feet began to feel cool and damp. We all trooped into the farmhouse.
I asked for my “cole cover” and someone handed it to me. I still felt clean, but I checked my toes to make sure. There was a blade of fresh grass between a big toe and the next. Brushing it aside, I pulled the beloved quilt around me and savored the cool hug from my friendly old quilt.
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Life Lines 