Archives

Mad Hatter

Jan31

I loved Sundays. Everyone in our farm house bustled around getting ready to attend Mass. Those of us who didn’t do barn chores had to be out of the bathroom by the time Daddy and my brother Billy were ready to use it. Mom had me dress first. It felt nice to be wearing my best clothing and have my usually tangled hair neatly combed.

Sitting quietly on the davenport, I waited, watched and listened. My sisters were bickering over something. The shirt one of my brothers planning to wear was in the laundry basket, so Mom quickly ironed his other nice shirt.

When Daddy came out of the bathroom he had a bit of toilet paper stuck to his chin where he’d nicked himself while shaving. Betty flounced into the room with her full skirt and sat down. Mary rummaged in the hall closet for shoe polish. Daddy, Billy and Casper were the first ones ready to go.

Instead of taking care of herself, Mom spent most of the morning doing last minute things for Daddy and her seven children. Most Sunday mornings she was the last person to be ready.

There was one final preparation for attending Mass. Women had to wear something on their heads in church. For the weekday school Masses, girls wore scarves tied under our chins, but on Sundays we wore hats to church. I put on a small, ruffled curvette. Mary donned a big flower trimmed bucket style. Mom put on the new black hat she’d bought a few days before. Daddy glanced at her and witlessly commented, “Where’re the hounds and horses?” Continue reading →

Small Words Big Impact

Jan24

Swallowing hurt. I felt sorry for myself. Tears formed in my eyes as I opened wide for Dr. Kroeplein to look down my throat.

He warned Mom, “Mrs. Altmann, your daughter has a strep infection again. As I told you the last time, strep is nasty. It can damage a person’s heart, if you don’t treat it with penicillin. My advice to you is to have Kathy’s tonsils removed after school lets out this spring. If you don’t, the infection will return repeatedly.”

In a state of shock, I followed Mom out of the doctor’s office. Being unable to properly swallow pills and having to take more penicillin was like signing up for torture. I was convinced that penicillin was the worst-tasting substance in this entire world! Just thinking about it made me gag, which sent off new waves of pain. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I was going to need surgery. Surely this was the end of my life!

Already tearful that evening, a huge flood began to flow when Mom told Daddy the doctor had recommended surgery. I dramatically sobbed, “Why did this have to happen to me?”

Ten years older than me, my brother Billy quietly answered, “Why shouldn’t it happen to you? It happens to a lot of people.”

Startled, I turned to stare at him. His statement hadn’t been said in anger or scorn. My brother’s face showed nothing but sympathetic concern. Feeling stunned, I knew he was right. Like everyone else in this world, I would experience pain, fear and disappointment. Continue reading →

Keeping Vigil

Jan17

I pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. My brother was deeply asleep. He didn’t murmur or acknowledge my presence, even when I leaned over, touched his hand and said softly, “Billy, this is Kathy. I’m going to spend some time with you.” I suspected that on some level my brother knew I was there.

From where I sat in his room, I could see part of the dayroom. Other residents of the home were coming and going. The television next to the Christmas tree was on, although no one was watching it. The sound gave the room a normal, homey atmosphere.

As I quietly sat watching my brother slumber, I remembered how I had taken care of Mom as she aged. I had paid bills, given baths and filled her pill box each week. Billy and Casper, my bachelor brothers who lived with her, made meals and kept her company.

A few years after Mom died, my weekly visits to the farm resumed. Both of my brothers had developed Parkinson’s disease. Now my visits were to fill their pill boxes, pay bills and keep them company.

Two years ago, my brother’s needs began to exceed my ability to keep them safe, so I moved both into assisted living homes. Their health decline accelerated. On Christmas Eve the nurse taking care of Billy called and said, “Your brother is no longer able to swallow. He’s having pain, so we’re giving him morphine. If you want to say good-bye, now would be a good time to come to visit.” Continue reading →

An Old Maid

Jan3

Two of my sisters sat on the davenport with piles of Mom’s favorite magazines on their laps. I sat on the floor next to them going through a mound of Dell comic books. They had been read to me so often, I nearly knew them by heart. Familiarity made them all the dearer.

Outside the living room window was a boring winter Saturday afternoon. Snow hadn’t fallen for over a week and the temperatures were frigid. None of us wanted to go out to play.

This year at school I had learned how to read. Despite all the praise I’d received, I was unhappy. Reading was harder than listening. I missed having my sisters read to me. Holding out one of the best comic books, I appealed to my sister, “Mary, please read this to me!”

Mary lowered the Woman’s Day magazine and said, “No. You know how to read. Read it yourself.”

I looked over at my sister, Betty, who was reading a Red Book Magazine. She didn’t bother to look up. I suspected that she was purposely ignoring me. Continue reading →

Baker’s Daughter

Dec20

Snow began to fall as noon recess ended. When the bell rang, I reluctantly fell into line at the school door with the rest of my first-grade class. At Sister Donna’s signal, we obediently marched into the building, up a set of stairs and into our classroom. Going straight to the windows, we admired how beautiful the playground looked with a thin blanket of snow.

The first flakes of snow that December afternoon were large and had fluttered slowly to the ground. Sister Donna passed out work pages, but my classmates and I kept turning toward the windows. She begged us to pay attention. The snowflakes soon became small and dashed rapidly to the ground. All we could do was watch in excited fascination. A house on the far side of our playground turned into a gray shadow.

When the third recess bell rang, everyone in my class rushed to go outside. We formed lines and shuffled through the snow-covered playground, leaving long, snake-like trails. Our hats turned white while an inexplicable joy filled our hearts. Continue reading →

Oh Fudge!

Dec13

Mom handed me a box as I left the house. Without peeking, I knew there were fifty Christmas cookies inside, one for each of my classmates. She warned, “Be careful. Don’t drop the box. Don’t tip it side to side, either. I want those tender cookies to be whole when you hand them out.”

I’d hardly been able to think about school work the last few days. Earlier in the week my teacher, Sister Florence, said the third-grade class would have a holiday party after today’s last recess. Ever since her announcement, waiting and anticipating the fun and goodies had made time creep past very slowly!

I rushed out the back door of our farmhouse and found Daddy patiently waiting in the car. His farm chore routine was designed to fit around busing his children to school each morning and to return to pick us up each afternoon. Today I wasn’t the last to the car. We had to wait for Betty.

A subdued buzz met me the minute I walked into the school. Everyone was excited. Sister Florence tried to guide us through spelling, arithmetic and phonics, but our minds had a hard time settling.

A cold wind during first recess made me and the other girls in my class huddle around the exhaust vent from the cafeteria, where warm air filled with lunch aromas prompted us to talk about the goodies we’d brought to school. We knew there would be several fudges, two homemade caramels, divinity, chocolate cookies, ginger snaps and taffy to savor. Continue reading →

Fire Safety

Nov29

I heard the school bus pull to a stop in front of our house as I put a kettle of potatoes on the stove. My five-year-old had been standing at the large living room window for the last half hour, watching for her big sister. She shouted, “Niki’s home!” A moment later I heard the back-door slam and my fourth-grader walked into the dining room.

“How was your day?” I asked.

My daughter shrugged and gave me the usual before supper non-committal answer, “It was okay.”

The events of Niki’s day would slowly unreel as the evening progressed. She was never able to pour it out all at one time, so it didn’t pay to push.

By the time I was doing the supper dishes, Niki had told me about a math test she’d taken in the morning, who she played with at recess and what was served at hot lunch. The way my daughter leaned against the cupboards watching me clean the kitchen made it clear she wanted to say more.

Looking troubled, Niki finally said, “We had a class on fire safety this afternoon.” I turned to face her. Every fall the school taught the children what to do if their homes were to catch fire. Along with the knowledge came worry. Continue reading →

Said With A Sigh

Nov15

The summer afternoon was hot, so I sought out the cool shade under a row of mountain ash trees between our farmhouse and the driveway. After sitting down on the grass, I discovered a small cool breeze liked it under the trees as well.

Across the driveway, between the barn and a row of maple trees bordering the road, was a garden-sized field of timothy hay. Shortly after I sat down on the grass, Daddy walked across the yard with a scythe in his hands. Starting at the edge of the patch, he began to rhythmically swing the blade back and forth. As the tall grass fell, Daddy stepped forward to cut the next swath.

A car pulled into the driveway before he had a chance to cut the entire patch. The neighbor needed something we had in the machine shed. Leaning his scythe against the barn, Daddy followed him to the shed.

Eyeing the old-fashioned grass cutting tool leaning against the barn wall, I thought, “I wonder if I can make the scythe cut hay like Daddy?” Jumping to my feet, I ran across the driveway. The scythe was fairly heavy, but from watching Daddy, I knew how to hold it. Stepping up to the grass, I held the blade low and using my whole body, made it swing smoothly in an arc. Continue reading →

Battle Scars

Oct25

Who knows how it happened. But there I was lying on the living room floor in a puddle of water, sand, glass and flopping fish. Hadn’t Mama told me to stop chasing around? Maybe she had, but none of that mattered anymore. I opened my mouth and let out a long, loud wail. Not only had I ruined something nice, but I was scared and uncomfortable.

Everyone in the house must have heard the crash and come running to see what had happened. If they hadn’t heard the glass break, they certainly heard my fire siren howl. Mama picked me up off the floor and gasped, “Oh my goodness! The glass cut your left arm!” Holding me away from her a little she added, “Ugh, you’re wet and fishy smelling!”

Mama firmly directed me toward the bathroom for a bath, bandaging and a change of clothing. Before leaving the room, I looked back and saw my sisters and brothers picking up glass, mopping up the water and sand. I saw small orange fish on the gray linoleum floor wildly flopping about. The sight made me feel so sad I began to wail again. Continue reading →

Misbehaving Cooks

Sep27

Spicy aromas coming from the kitchen made my mouth water. Maybe if I begged Mom, she’d let me taste something. Bracing myself on the stairway banisters, I began to swing down three steps at a time. Before reaching the main floor, I heard Mom yell, “Supper’s ready!”

Daddy and my sisters flowed out of the living room into the kitchen ahead of me. One brother made a bee-line out of his room at the end of the hall to the table and the other brother quickly stepped in from the entryway. They all looked as hungry as I felt. Hints of garlic, onion, oregano and basil hung tantalizingly in the air.

Mom had placed two large jelly roll pans of homemade pizza on the center of our table. One sister exclaimed, “Those look beautiful!” She was right. The crisp crust around the edges were a light golden brown. Although topped with plenty of melted cheese, I could see chunks of meat, pizza sauce and mushrooms below. Beside the pans were shakers of Parmesan cheese and dried peppers. Continue reading →