WHERE THE FOREST TRAIL MEETS THE RIVER
by
Larry Rintala
Copyright © Larry Rintala
Smashwords Edition.
E-book ISBN: 978-0-9877289-1-3
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Picking Blackberries and starting school
Family and Friends Come and Go
Training Prince and Lighting Fires
A New School, Guitar Lessons and Jaggers
The River
It was an early spring day, the skies were overcast and the field was wet from the mist. All was quiet except for a huge roar beyond the tree line. What was this noise that was so loud it felt like it was going right through me? What could possibly make such an ominous sound through all the trees, a constant noise day and night? Every once in a while there was a crashing sound, like a large tree hitting the ground. Being much too young to go investigate, I could only imagine what it was.
I asked my Dad what this noise was. He told me it was the Nanaimo River. Each spring when the rains came and melted the snow in the mountains, the runoff found its way down the streams and creeks to the Nanaimo River. The water rose over the riverbank flooding fields and forest alike. One day Dad asked me if I would like to go see.
Excitement overtook me, “Yes! Yes!”
I could hardly wait. With gumboots and raincoats on, away we went across the field and into the trees. As we followed the trail the noise became louder and louder. I could see there was a clearing quite a way ahead. There it was: the river, murky green and moving very fast. It was mesmerizing. Then a thought crossed my mind, what if I fall in? Fear instantly came over me. There I stood, unable to move a muscle, heart racing. There was no doubt that one mistake, one slip, meant certain death. The water was ice cold. Hypothermia would set in quickly making it very difficult to swim. With gumboots and winter clothes on, I probably would not make it to the first set of rapids.
Dad walked further down the trail. The fear of being left behind broke my feet free from the ground. We walked through the forest on the trail to a corner in the river where there was a log jam; it was massive. Logs, branches, bark and trees made a huge pile all stacked together. The torrent disappeared under the log jam.
Further up river I could see a large tree in the water. It was coming fast. It went through the rapids like an arrow piercing the waves. Around the corner the tree came, straight for the log jam. With great force it hit, snapping the branches and breaking the tree in half. What a sight! What a sound! That was the moment I realized what had made those ominous sounds through the trees.
Dad said it was time to head back home. That was okay with me as I was getting a little cold and hungry. We followed the trail back the same way we had come. My mind was going a million miles a second and I could hardly wait to get home to tell Mom.
We got in the door and before I could say a word Mom said, “Hold it there.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Take your boots off, and your coats, and hang them up, too.”
I completed the task and was about to start speaking when Mom said, “Head into the bathroom and get washed up for lunch.”
I got cleaned up and sat down to eat. Mom brought the food to the table. My favourite: ox tail soup with barley and vegetables. Was it ever good? I vacuumed up a full bowl without uttering a word.
“Would you like another bowl?” Mom asked.
“Yes please,” I said.
This was the time I was waiting for, to tell Mom of my adventure.
“Guess what I saw today, Mom.”
“What?” she said.
“The river!”
Mom stopped instantly, looked me in the eye and said, “You are not allowed down there. Don’t you ever go down there alone.”
Mom had my undivided attention. Why was she looking scared and angry?
She turned to Dad and said, “Why did you take Larry down to the river?” The discussion began.
In the meantime I had gotten my second bowl of soup and eagerly ate it up. Lunch was over and my story of the day had not been told. I figured it was best not to bring it up again for fear of the same reaction. Fed and warm, my energy was back and I was ready to go back outside. I went to the closet in the kitchen and put on my gumboots and coat.
“Where are you off to?” Mom asked.
“Outside,” I said, and before Mom could say another word I was out the door.
Our German Shepherd dog, Sheba, was lying on the porch waiting for me. She lifted her head the instant the door cracked open, and she was up on all fours with her tail wagging before my foot hit the second step. We went up the hill to play on the rock bluff, a sandstone outcropping behind the house and across the road.
On top of the bluff was a very large maple tree that overshadowed the bluff. There were rocks and trees to climb as well as caves to explore. One of my favourite spots was what I called the Elephant Rock, a large boulder that looked a little like an elephant. There was a place to sit at the top with a view of the entire bluff. Where I sat there was a small maple with several branches going straight up. These were levers for steering the elephant. Many hours were spent playing and exploring the bluff. Sheba was always nearby. She explored as well, looking for creatures and bugs hidden in the fallen maple leaves.
The call came from Mom, late in the afternoon, “Larry, time to come in.”
With the sun setting and the evening light filtering through the maple trees. It was time to go in. When Sheba heard the call she stopped and looked at me as if to say, “Did you hear that?” ears perked, eyes fixed on mine and her tail wagging. Somehow she knew it was time to go. Sometimes I did not hear the first call. All I had to do was look at Sheba looking at me, and then I would listen for the call. Sheba would not move until I did. One step from me towards the house and Sheba was halfway there.
I answered, “I’m coming.”
I opened the door to the house, peeled off my boots and coat and asked Mom, “What’s for supper?”
“Go wash up before you sit down,” she said.
I was hungry and could hardly wait to eat.
We sat down to eat and Mom asked, “What were you doing outside?
“I was just up the bluff.”
The meal was great, pot roast, with potatoes and vegetables cooked around the roast in the oven. The gravy was dark and rich. The roast was moist and tender; I could cut it with a fork. A meal fit for a king. I finished up and then asked to be excused.
“Have you had enough?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “thank you, Mom.”
I headed for the living room to watch TV. The La-Z-Boy chair was the best seat in the living room and I had my eyes on it.
I sat down in it for only a few minutes when Dad came in and said, “Seniority bump.” That was it for me being in the La-Z-Boy chair. I moved over to the couch.
Dad always watched the news after supper. Most of the time, after the news, Dad would fall asleep. That was the cue to change the channel.
When eight-thirty rolled around Mom said, “Time for bed. Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
Lying in bed I could hear the rain on the roof. Sometimes it was steady and hard, other times softer and intermittent. When the rain was light, in the background I could hear the dull roar of the river. Sleep overcame me and I drifted off.
Morning came with a call from Mom. Breakfast was on the table. Mom was in a rush. Today was a work day for her and she was going to drop me off at Grandpa Rintala’s, my Dad’s father. He lived two doors down on the same side of the road. My favourite lunch was spaghetti from a can so Mom put a can in a brown paper bag and gave it to me. Out the door, into the car and down the road we went. In only a minute we were turning left onto Grandpa’s gravel driveway.
Mom hugged me and said, “Don’t forget your spaghetti.”
I opened the gate to the yard, went up the concrete steps and knocked on the door.
Then I went straight in, kicked my boots off in the mudroom and called, “Grandpa, I’m here.”
Grandpa was usually in the living room sitting in his big chair. I went into the kitchen, put the brown paper bag on the counter and went to find Grandpa. There he was sitting in his chair smoking his pipe.
Grandpa acknowledged my presence with an, “Uh huh.”
He got up, went into the kitchen and put the can of spaghetti in the cupboard. That cupboard was full of cans of spaghetti. Grandpa headed for the mudroom to put on his hat, coat and boots, and I followed. I never knew what we were going to do. Sometimes we went to town to pick up feed, other times we fixed fences. It all depended on the day of the week and the season.
It was a rainy day so we went to the machinery shed to do some maintenance on the farm equipment. An oil change and grease job on the tractor was first on the list. Grandpa let me use the grease gun; it was fun to hunt down the fittings and squirt grease in them until it came out the sides.
When the work on the tractor was complete it was time to let the cows out of the barn. When I arrived in the morning Grandpa had already put the cows in their stalls, fed them and milked them. The cows had eaten their hay and were lying down, chewing on their cuds. Grandpa went to each stall and opened the stanchions to let the cows out. I was only allowed to open the stanchions in one stall. That was Topsy’s stall. She was the friendliest cow in the barn. She had no fear of humans. I went between her and the side of the stall and let her go. She calmly backed out. Sometimes she stopped halfway to sniff me or to lick me. Grandpa said the reason she licked me was because of the salt on my skin. I think it was because she liked me.
When all the cows were loose in the barn it was time to open the door to the field and let them eat grass for the day. Once they were out we closed the door at that end of the barn and opened the door at the other end to bring in the overhead trolley for the manure. The barn had troughs down each side for the manure to go in. They were about two feet wide and six inches deep. When the cows went out it was time to clean out the troughs. The manure bucket was so neat. It was lowered, raised, and dumped using hand operated chains. The overhead track went all the way outside. The track outside was attached to a beam and the beam was held up by logs. When the trolley got to the end of the track it dumped the manure in a big pile outside the barn.
Time passed quickly as the morning went on. My job was to climb up into the loft of the barn and throw down bales of hay. The bales were too heavy for me to lift so I rolled them to the chute and let them fall on the floor. Then I climbed down the ladder and asked Grandpa for his knife so I could cut the strings on the bales and take the bales apart. I put a flake in each stall for the cows to eat. All this was done in preparation for the end of the day when the cows would be let back into the barn. The morning was gone by the time the barn was cleaned and the stalls were filled with hay. It was close to noon and time for lunch.
Grandpa looked at me and said, “Come on, time for lunch.”
We walked from the barn to the house, opened the gate to the yard and closed it, walked up the stairs, opened the door to the mudroom and kicked off our boots. Then we headed into the kitchen to cook lunch. A lot of the time we had boiled potatoes and stewed beef. While Grandpa cooked, I set the table.
There was a magazine rack in the kitchen and I picked one out to look at the pictures; most of the time they were about livestock or farm machinery. Sometimes there was a special treat, a Popular Mechanics magazine with pictures of great spaceships, submarines and new inventions.
When lunch was ready it was time to stop daydreaming and eat. I was hungry by this time. Grandpa put the bowl of beef and potatoes in front of me and I buttered up some hardtack and grabbed a slice or two of cheese. When lunch was over we cleaned the table, washed the dishes and put them away.
The afternoon always started with a rest. Grandpa retired to the sitting room and sat in his reclining chair. I went to the bookshelf and found a book for myself. There was a full set of all the volumes of the Book of Knowledge, with an endless amount of pictures and illustrations.
Grandpa got his pipe and tobacco out of the side table drawer and got his pipe ready. Taking a wooden match from the box he scraped the ash out of the pipe into the ashtray. Then he reached into the tobacco pouch and filled the pipe. He lit the pipe with the match he’d cleaned the pipe bowl with. The flame from the match disappeared with each puff and then reappeared. This happened several times before the pipe was lit. If Grandpa got distracted for a while the pipe would go out and he went through the same ritual again. Sure seemed like a lot of work to me just for a puff or two, but the pipe tobacco smelled good. It had a sweet aroma.
The afternoon work was waiting for us. With many acres of fences there were always fencing repairs to be done. The tools for fence repairs were in an old, galvanized metal, milk bucket which was kept in the machinery shed. In the bucket was a pair of monkey face gloves, a pair of fencing pliers, fencing staples and some long spikes. I got the fencing bucket while Grandpa got the roll of barbed wire and the shovel and put them on the tractor. I jumped on the three-point hitch at the back of the tractor. It took no time at all to find a spot to repair. Sometimes it was just a small repair, other times it was major. If a post was rotten at the bottom, and it was falling over, it needed to be replaced. This also meant there were probably more to be replaced because they were all put in the ground at the same time.
Sometimes Grandpa gave me his box of matches so I could burn the grass along the fence line. When the fields were cut in the summertime the mower could not cut right up to the fence so the grass grew for a season or two and then died off, this was a fire hazard. I think the reason I was allowed to burn the grass was that it kept me out of the way so it was easier for Grandpa to dig around the fence posts. Every once in a while the fire got away on me. All I had was my two feet in gumboots to stomp on it so Grandpa would get the shovel and help me put it out. That didn’t happen very often. Most of the time it was hard to get the grass to burn because it was damp so I made a torch out of some grass, lit the torch, and used that to burn the grass along the fence line. It would burn a patch then go out. When the fencing for the day was finished it was time to pack up and put everything away.
We went back to the house to wash up and then I waited for Mom to come pick me up and take me home. A honk of the horn meant it was time to go.
“’Bye, Grandpa.”
“Goodbye, Larry.”
The ride home from Grandpa’s was short so Mom would give me instructions on what I was to do when we got home like take the groceries out of the trunk and put them on the counter or fill up the dog’s food and water. Everyone had their duties to get ready for supper. Most of the time, I set the table because I was too young to prepare any food.
Suppertime was always the time to catch up on the day’s events. We listened to whoever had an interesting event or something to share with the rest of the family. When supper was over my brothers and I took turns clearing the table and taking care of the dishes, washing, drying and putting them away in the cupboards.
After supper was TV time. Dad would put on the station with the news and we were not allowed to change the channel, but it wouldn’t take long for Dad to fall asleep on the recliner, usually about the time the sports report came on. Dad’s head would slowly creep back onto the headrest, then his mouth would open and the next thing we knew, he was snoring. Sometimes his snoring was so loud he startled himself and would wake up with a snort or he would mumble, close his mouth and go back to sleep. Dad would sleep for an hour or so during which time it was a free-for-all with the TV stations.
Mom didn’t care what was on the TV because she was at the end of the couch knitting something. Beside the arm of the couch was Mom’s knitting basket and in the basket were the needles, wool and patterns. The needles went clickety-click, stopping occasionally only to read the pattern. Whenever Mom started a new project it was time for me to lend a hand or rather both hands. I held my hands out in front of me and Mom would put the skein of wool over my arms and then start to wind it into a ball. This took a long time and my arms got heavy in no time at all. I had to rest them on my lap for a while, but that was okay because then Mom would watch TV for a minute or two. If the TV show wasn’t interesting I would only get a small break, but if the show was good sometimes the wool would be on my arms for an hour.
Once Dad had his sleep and was feeling refreshed it was time to watch The Lawrence Welk Show. This was a perfect opportunity for me to do something else, like play in my room with Lego or see what pictures were left to colour in the colouring book. Later on in the evening a movie started, but I never saw the end of the movie because it was bedtime. I would whine and complain and sometimes this worked to get a few extra minutes, especially if it was an exciting part of the show, but this only worked for five minutes, max, then it was time to wash up, brush my teeth and go to bed. I would read a comic book or a magazine or sometimes I would think about the things I would do the next day.
After a short time Mom’s voice could be heard down the hall, “Larry, it’s time for lights out. Go to sleep.”
A short time later sleep would come over me with a feeling of warmth, contentment and the background noise of the TV and Mom and Dad’s voices.
If morning came and Mom didn’t wake me before I opened my eyes then that meant it was the weekend. Not that it made a lot of difference to me it just meant that instead of going to Grandpa’s I could play out back in the bush or go next door and visit with great-grandparents, Oscar and Sophie Peterson.
My great-grandparents lived one house down the hill in a two-bedroom house. They also had two separate sunrooms; one at each end of the house. These rooms overlooked Grandpa Rintala’s farm, facing to the southwest. Below the house was Great-grandma’s garden and in each of the four corners of the garden stood a fruit tree, three cherry trees and one plum tree. Beyond the garden was Grandpa Rintala’s field.
Each sunroom in the house had windows on two walls which were placed three feet from the floor and went all the way up to the ceiling. Each pane in these glass windows was one foot square. There was plenty of light, and when the sun was out the rooms were nice and warm. The southwest room was Great-grandpa’s and the southeast room was Great-grandma’s.
The kitchen and eating area were the same room. A wooden table with four chairs was on one wall, the other wall had the wood-fire cook-stove. On the back side of the stove was the range boiler. It had copper pipe that went inside the stove and the water would circulate through the pipe and make the water hot. Great-grandma did all the cooking on the stove. Some of my favourite foods were flat bread and Finnish coffee bread. The other wall had all the kitchen cabinets. In the fourth wall was the door to the bathroom.
Great-grandpa’s job was to keep the wood box full for the wood-burning stove. There was also a wood-fired furnace in the basement. Out back there was a shed to keep the firewood dry.
The morning of a rainy, spring day I decided to visit my great-grandparents.
When I told Mom I was going to see Great-grandma and Great-grandpa she said, “Put on your Indian sweater and gum boots.”
Out the door I went, through the yard and down the hill. The trail went past our shed, through Great-grandma’s garden, past Great-grandpa’s woodshed and then up to the house. I went up the steps and knocked on the door.
Great-grandma said, “Come in Larry.”
I put my hand on the glass door knob. Sometimes it stuck and was hard to open. In I went, kicked off my boots and took off my Indian sweater. Great-grandpa was getting ready to light the wood stove. He did it with no paper and only one match, every time. This required a little bit of a ritual. There was a chopping block by the wood box and in the wood box there was always a block of western red cedar. Great-grandpa pulled the hatchet out of the chopping block and cut the cedar into half inch sticks. After cutting ten or so pieces he would take out his pocket knife and cut notches into each of the four corners of the stick. When he was done each stick looked a little like a tree and he would gather up the little trees and put them in the wood stove. Then he would get a single wooden match, strike it on the top of the stove and light the cedar. When the cedar started to crackle and pop that meant it was time to add more wood to the fire. First small pieces of wood were added, then bigger ones until the fire box was full. Then it was time to put the lid on the stove.
Once the stove was going it was time to head out to the woodshed to get some more wood for the stove. Great-grandpa went to the porch and put on his boots, coat and cap and so did I. We went outside to get some wood. The wood shed was about ten feet by twelve feet and it was ten feet high. The roof was done with shakes. The three walls were clad with one-by-twelve Douglas fir applied vertically with one inch between each board. Great-grandpa said the spaces were put there so the wind would blow through the woodshed and dry out the firewood.
Great-grandpa brought the wheelbarrow over to the woodshed. At the entrance to the shed was a large round block of wood, I think it was a block of fir. It was full of knots and there was no way anyone could split it with just an axe. It was the chopping block. Great-grandpa put a chunk of wood on the chopping block wound up with the axe and hit the chunk of wood. If it split easily the axe would stick in the chopping block and was very hard to get it out. My job was to pick up the split wood and put it into the wheelbarrow. When the wheel barrow was full Great-grandpa wheeled it to the house and we unloaded it into the wood box. The wood-box was a fair size and it would take several trips to fill it.
After the wood was in it was time for a break. Great-grandma had put the coffee pot on as soon as Great-grandpa had lit the stove so the coffee was ready when the wood box was full. Great-grandma poured the coffee in cups and put a plate of Finnish coffee bread on the table with some homemade butter.
The kitchen table faced down the hill towards Grandpa Rintala’s place. Looking through the kitchen window into the sunroom I could see past Great-grandma’s garden, over Grandpa’s field and see Grandpa Rintala’s house. Sometimes I would see Grandpa walking back from the barn after feeding and milking the cows.
Coffee break was over and it was time to carry on with the day. Great-grandpa went into his closet and got his fishing gear then went into the sunroom to make some fishing lures. Great-grandpa made all his own fishing lures. He had all the parts to make anything he wanted to. There in his box of things were hooks, beads, stainless steel wire, swivels and a piece of copper sheet. Great-grandpa would spend hours making fishing lures. When Great-grandpa got tired he would put his fishing things aside and lay on the cot for a mid-morning nap.
I couldn’t help Great-grandpa with his lure making so I helped Great-grandma in the kitchen. Today was flatbread day. I helped with the mixing of the dough and the kneading, as well. Once the dough was mixed up it was time to put it close to the wood stove for the dough to rise. In the meantime the kitchen needed to be cleaned up and dishes had to be washed. After an hour or two the dough in the bowl was three times the original size and it was time to knock it back down and do the same thing all over again. Great-grandma greased some flat pans, formed the dough into a ball the size of a grapefruit and put it in the wood stove to bake.
There was always something going on in the kitchen. While the bread baked Great-grandma put some water on to boil for doing the clothes washing. I brought the wash tub into the kitchen and put it on a side table. The wash tub was a square, galvanized tub with round edges. Great-grandma put the boiling water in the tub and added some hot water from the tap. Then she went to get the bar of soap from the kitchen sink and the wash board from the kitchen closet. She got the laundry basket from the bedroom and took it to the wash tub. She took the clothes out of the basket one piece at a time and put them into the tub to completely soak each item. Then she took the bar of soap and rubbed it on the fabric. Putting the bar of soap aside she would use both hands to rub the clothes up and down the glass wash board. Then she would push the item into the water bring it out and rub it again. The item then was turned over and the process was repeated to clean the other side. Then she would squeeze it out, dip it in another tub of fresh water to rinse it, squeeze it again and then put it on the drying rack next to the stove.
The morning soon turned into early afternoon.
When I told Great-grandma it was time for me to go home she said, “Goodbye. Don’t forget to put your Indian sweater on. I will see you later.”
I went into the sunroom to put my coat and boots on. Great-grandpa was lying on the cot, snoring. Away I went out the door.
The rain was coming down hard and I could hear the river roaring in the background. For some reason I looked towards Grandpa Rintala’s and I saw something in the field. It was moving. It was the same colour as the river. I couldn’t see clearly so I moved over to get a better look. There it was. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was the river in Grandpa’s field.
Fear came over me. The river was flowing over its bank, through Grandpa’s field, across the road and into the neighbour’s field. Our road was a dead end road. This meant we were trapped. I went back into the house with great excitement and woke up Great-grandpa.
“Grandpa,” I said, “The river is coming. It’s right over the road.”
Great-grandpa got out of the cot, looked out the sunroom window and said, “Where?”
I pointed, “Look. Look over here.”
Great-grandma heard me come back in and she came into the sunroom as well. There it was; the river flowing through the field. Grandpa and Grandma spoke to each other in Finnish. They said something about the rain and the river. I understood what they said most of the time, but I couldn’t speak Finnish myself.
Great-grandma said everything was okay and it was all right to go home. Out the door I went again. On my way up the trail I could hardly wait to get home to tell Mom and Dad. I started to run and, of course, Sheba was right behind me, then she passed me. I got to the back yard where Dad was working on Mom’s car.
“Dad. Dad. Guess what.”
Dad’s head was under the hood of the car. “What?”
“Dad!”
“What?” he said again as he lifted his head up and looked at me.
“Guess what!”
“What’s wrong?”
“The river is flooding Grandpa Rintala’s field!”
Dad turned the car off and walked down the hill to see for himself. Sheba and I followed. There we all stood looking at the massive amount of flowing water. Even Sheba was looking intently at the water. She looked at me then looked at the water again.
“Sure is a lot of water,” Dad said. “Looks like we won’t be going anywhere for a while.”
We walked out to the road and then down to the edge of the water and looked across to the other side. It was a long way across and the water was right up to the bridge deck. There were branches, sticks and logs piling up in front of the bridge. I could see the debris float to the bridge and stop at the bridge like it was a big net. The three of us stayed there for a while. Sheba went in the water, took a drink then walked up and down the shore. Dad said it was time to go, so away we went.
When we got back home Dad told Mom, “You had better fill up all the containers you can find.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
Dad explained that the river was flooding and the bridge was in danger of being washed out. If the bridge went the power lines would probably be washed out as well. So Mom got all the containers she could find in the house and filled them with water then she filled the bath tub right to the top with water. Dad was busy on the phone. He called everyone who lived on the road to tell them what was going on with the river. Then Dad made some other calls to people I didn’t know.
The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent preparing for the possible loss of power. Dad put wood down stairs. We had an oil furnace but it needed power to run it. If the power went off we had a wood furnace as a backup heat source. After all the work around the house was done Dad said he was going to go to Grandpa’s. Dad was gone for a long time. He didn’t get back until my bed time. When he got back I asked him what he’d been doing at Grandpa’s. He said he was helping Grandpa with the animals in case the power went out.
Dad said everything was going to be okay and to go to sleep.
Mom said, “Don’t forget to wash and brush your teeth.”
I could hear Mom and Dad talking about the day’s events. I could also hear the river in the background, but the thing I could hear the most was the howling of the wind and the drumming of the rain.
When morning came the wind and rain had stopped. I got up, went to the light switch and wondered if it would work. Yes! It worked, the light went on. The power didn’t go out after all. I went to the bathroom to get cleaned up then I went to the breakfast table. Mom just about had breakfast ready. Dad was at the table drinking his coffee. I looked out the window expecting that maybe the river was in the top field, but it wasn’t.
We all sat down to eat breakfast. When we were done Dad said, “Let’s go have a look at the river.”
Dad put on his coat and hat and so did I. When Dad opened the door, there was Sheba, wagging her tail. Out the door, across the field and through the forest to the river we went. The water was raging. The noise was overpowering. It was mesmerizing. We walked along the bank for a while then we went onto another trail. I didn’t know where we were going, but Dad seemed to know. The trail eventually opened up to a barn yard.
“I know where we are,” I said to Dad, “this is Grandpa’s barn yard.”
We went into the barn where Grandpa was feeding and milking the cows. While Dad and Grandpa talked I went to see Topsy. She was busy eating her hay. She stopped eating for a moment to look at me. I went into her stall to pet her. She didn’t mind at all. I petted her for a while and then I remembered Grandpa had a bag of grain in the corner so I went over to get a handful for Topsy; she ate the grain right out of my hand.
When Dad and Grandpa finished talking Dad and I went out the barn and down the driveway to the road. When we got to the road we could see that the water was very close to Grandpa’s driveway. Wow! The water was higher than yesterday. Then I looked across the expanse of water. There was something missing. It was the bridge. It was gone, all of it. There was no sign of it ever being there. The power poles were still there, though. We went home to tell Mom about our adventure. Mom didn’t seem to be as excited as I was, but she listened intently to what I told her.
The Bridge
The next several days Dad spent the time at home working around the house, trimming the raspberry bushes, fixing things that needed attention. Mom spent time in the house, cooking and cleaning. About a week later the water had gone down enough to see where the bridge had been. The only thing left were the posts that the bridge had sat on. The fields were a mess with large holes dug randomly at the river’s will. There were logs and sticks all over the field.
The flooding river had caused Thatcher creek, which ran across our property, to overflow, but now it was contained within its banks. It was still running fast and the water was a murky green. Across the other side of the flood the department of highways was gearing up to build a new bridge. Trucks, cranes and heavy equipment plugged the other side of the road. The first task at hand was to put in a temporary bridge because it was going to take weeks to build a new bridge.
The crane was a big one; the boom was as high as the tree tops. They used the crane to lift the sections of bridge off the flat-bed trucks and put them on the ground where they were bolted together. Once the Bailey bridge was bolted together the crane lifted the entire bridge over the creek and set it in place beside where the original wooden bridge had been. The new bridge would take several months to build. The work crews showed up early in the morning and worked all day.
Mom dropped me off at Grandpa’s one morning and I could hear the men and equipment working at the bridge site. Once Grandpa and I were done with the morning chores and had lunch and a rest it was time to head to the tractor shed to get the tractor and trailer. Down the lane and through the gate we went. It was my job to jump off the tractor, open the gate, wait for the tractor to go through and then close the gate.
The task at hand was a large one. The field was a mess and it would take months to clean it up. Grandpa drove the tractor to a section of the field, unhooked the trailer and then drove the tractor to a pile of sticks. We loaded the debris into the tractor bucket then Grandpa dumped it onto the trailer. The logs were more work. Because Grandpa had a wood stove in the basement this was a great opportunity to get firewood for the winter. Grandpa ran the power saw and split the wood and my job was to load the blocks into the tractor bucket. When the bucket was full Grandpa hopped on the tractor and dumped the wood on the trailer.
Break time came around and we sat and rested for a while. We could see and hear the crews working on the bridge. It was a very busy work site with trucks coming and going, the crane lifting and the saws running. We weren’t in the field long before the trailer was full. We took the sticks up to the burn pile and unloaded the trailer. When the trailer was full of firewood we took the tractor to the back of the house and unloaded the firewood into the basement.
I knew Mom would be coming soon to pick me up to take me home when Grandpa headed to the barn to put the cows in and feed and milk them. I knew this because sometimes Mom would tell me in the morning if she was going to be late, then I would help Grandpa with the evening chores. I kept one eye on the road watching for Mom. She was on time and I could see her car crossing the Bailey bridge.
“Grandpa, Mom is coming.”
“See you tomorrow, Larry”
When Mom pulled up in the driveway I was waiting for her.
I jumped in the car and Mom asked, “How was your day?”
Since it only took a couple of minutes to get home there was no time to tell much at all so I usually told her it was fine, unless there was something special that happened that day.
The conversation at the supper table, for the most part, revolved around the construction of the bridge. That was the time I spoke up and told all I had seen while Grandpa and I had been working in the field. After all was said about the rebuilding of the bridge Mom asked me if I wanted to go to town the next day because it was Saturday.
I said, “Yes!” right away. I wanted to go across the Bailey bridge and, of course, I enjoyed going into town.
Mom talked about grocery shopping and asked if we needed anything from town. Dad hardly ever asked for things from town.
My brothers always asked for something, but most of the time Mom would tell them, “No you can’t have any treats.”
When supper was over it was my turn to dry the dishes. Mom washed and rinsed the dishes and I dried and put them away. Bed time rolled around all too soon, but I knew it was going to be a full day tomorrow.
The morning came and what woke me up was Mom getting out of bed. Usually Mom would wake me up, but today I was awake early so I went to the living room to watch TV while Mom cooked breakfast. Mom called Dad to the table so we could all eat. Dad asked Mom what places she was going to stop at during the day. I wasn’t paying too much attention because I was excited to go over the Bailey bridge and go to town. We cleaned up the breakfast dishes and got ready to go. Mom took the shopping list off the fridge and we headed out to the car. Dad reminded Mom to pick up some nails at Buckerfield’s and Mom told him she wouldn’t forget.
I could hardly wait to go across the Bailey bridge. When the car hit the bridge the whole thing moved up and down and side to side. The bridge was made of steel and the sides looked like end to end Ws. It was pretty cool. Only one car could go on the bridge at a time and no big trucks were allowed.
The trip to town was almost always an all day affair. Mom usually started the day at the grocery store where she worked. She would go to the meat department and talk to the butcher about what cuts of meat she wanted then we would shop for the other items on the list.
Mom knew all the people that worked in the store, and a lot of the customers as well, so the grocery shopping took awhile because we had to stop and talk with everyone she knew which included niceties like, “How are you, and your family, and anything exciting?”
They knew me as well and they would say things like, “How are you Larry? Are you helping your Mom today?” I would nod my head.
When we were done she went back to the butcher to pick up her order of meat. I pushed the shopping cart for Mom, that was my job and, of course, I would remind her if she forgot something. Each time we went to town Mom would get me a treat, most of the time it was candy or a small toy.
Sometimes at lunch time we would stop at Grandma and Grandpa Perris’ in town. This was Mom’s mother and step-father. Grandma was happy to see us and would have lunch ready for us. Mom and Grandma would visit and I would watch TV. After lunch Mom and I would head back into town to do more shopping. Because Mom and Dad both worked and there wasn’t a lot of time to pick up things in the middle of the week, we made sure we had everything for the week. Lunch was great, I was full and ready to shop some more. While we were in town Mom would go to the bank and pay bills.
On the way home we stopped at Buckerfield’s to pick up some nails for Dad. Buckerfield’s was a neat country store. It had everything you could think of. We could get anything we needed for the farm there: clothes, seeds, rope, nails, baby chicks, lawn seed and farm clothes, anything we needed on a farm.
I had been in there with Grandpa, many times, to pick up feed for the cows, but Grandpa and I only saw the loading dock, mostly, because Grandpa backed up the truck to the loading dock and the people there loaded the feed sacks into the back of the truck. Then Grandpa would go into the store at the front counter to pay the bill so I didn’t have time to explore the store.
It was great at Buckerfield’s with Mom because she would shop for a long time and I would get to explore. Mom didn’t go into Buckerfield’s often so I had to show her where the nails were. We found the nails Dad wanted, put them in a paper bag and put them on the hanging scale by the nail bins. We had ten pounds of three-inch spikes. This sparked my interest as to what Dad was going to build with these spikes? I guess I was going to find out.
Mom went to the clothes section and I went to explore, just to see if there was anything new or something I may not have noticed before. There were always really neat things at Buckerfield’s. The new stuff was always at the front of the store like bee traps and live rodent traps. Why would someone want to live trap a rat? Well, I said they were neat not always useful. Every minute in the store was an adventure.
One of the first things I did was see if I could find the store cat. He was a pretty cool cat. Sometimes he would be curled up on a bottom shelf. The next time he would be on the top shelf. It was a hide and seek game just to see where the cat was. When I found the cat, sleeping all curled in a ball, he would lift his head and open his eyes. I would pet his head for a stroke or two and then he would put his head back down and go back to sleep as though I were not even there.
Then I’d go see if there were any chicks in the store. They were easy to find, all I had to do was look for the red light glow in the store. There it was in the back of the store. As I got closer I could hear the cheep, cheep, cheep of the little chicks. They were so cute, just little balls of soft fuzz. I would pick one up, but sometimes the chick would chirp loudly and I would put it back down quick so I wouldn’t get in trouble from the clerk.
When Mom was finished looking at the clothes she went to the clerk to pay for the nails.
She called out to me, “Larry, time to go.”
I didn’t want to go. There were so many things to see, but it was okay because I knew next month Grandpa would need to pick up feed again and I could explore some more. I hopped in the car with Mom and asked her if she saw anything she liked. I was fishing for clues to see if she bought me anything or if she was looking for something to buy me she just said, “No.”
Tuning Up the Truck
On the way out of town we stopped to get some ice cream. I had almost forgotten about my treat. I got a chocolate-covered ice cream cone, it was great. Mom had the same thing and we ate it in the car on the way home. The time had passed quickly and it was getting close to supper time so when we got home Mom grabbed the grocery bag she needed for cooking supper and asked me to bring in the rest of the groceries. I put all the groceries on the counter and went to the car to get the spikes. Dad wasn’t around so I went to find him. I found him working in the shop.
“Dad,” I said, “we got the nails you wanted.”
“Just put them on the bench there,” he instructed.
He was pretty intent on what he was working on so I didn’t ask him what he wanted them for. I went back in the house to help Mom with supper. I asked her what I could do to help and she told me to wash my hands and help with the salad. Mom did all the cutting and I tore up the lettuce and did the mixing. Then Mom asked me to set the table. I got the place mats out of the drawer and put one at each place on the table. Then I went to the cupboard, took out the plates and put them on the placemats. I grabbed the knives, forks, and spoons from the drawer and put them next to the plates.
Mom looked up from what she was doing and said, “The cutlery is in the wrong spot, the knife goes on the right.”
Dwain
Once the table was set I went to the living room to watch a little TV. Dad was still in the shop working on something and Mom was still in the kitchen so I could watch anything I wanted to, at least until my brothers got home and that didn’t take long. The door opened and before the door could slam shut the fridge door was open and Tom had the jug of milk up to his mouth and was drinking.
Mom barked at Tom, “Put the milk in a glass!”
Mom was too slow; Tom had guzzled his fill and just put the milk jug back in the fridge. Once Tom and Dwain had a snack and put their books away it was time to hit the TV. I, being the youngest, didn’t have much say about what we would watch on TV when my older brothers were there. Whoever was next into the living room automatically changed the channel. Of course, I wasn’t interested in the program chosen so I went outside to see what Dad was doing.
Mom saw me putting on my boots and said, “Go get Dad, supper is almost ready”
Dad was working on the pick-up truck. I think he was doing a tune up as he had the sparkplug out and was giving it a close inspection. He reached into his pants pocket, took out his pocket knife and carefully scrapped the end of the sparkplug. Then he put it back into the engine.
After he did that to all the spark plugs he said, “Hop into the truck and start it up.” I looked at Dad and didn’t move.
He stopped what he was doing, looked at me and said, “It’s okay, just check the shifter, make sure you can wiggle it and turn the key to the right until the engine starts. It’s okay; I have the throttle under the hood.”
I hopped in and Dad leaned over the fender. All I could see was his back and legs; the rest of him was under the hood.
“Okay, start her up.”
I turned the key, the starter engaged and the engine started. Wow! It was so cool. I started a truck! I had completely forgotten I had come out to get Dad for supper until I heard Mom’s voice from the porch.
“Boys, it’s time for supper.”
“Okay, we’ll be there in just a minute,” Dad called back.
He put his finger straight out, ran it across his throat and said to me, “Shut her down.”
I turned off the truck and asked, “What was that signal you just used?”
“Cut its throat, kill it.”
“Why did you do that?”
“In case you can’t hear me that is the signal to turn the thing off,” he explained.
Dad closed the hood on the truck and we headed for the house. We opened the kitchen door and the smell of Mom’s cooking hit me like a wave. Suddenly I was famished. It smelled so good.
“Wash up before you eat,” Mom instructed.
Dad and I kicked off our boots, hung up our coats and headed for the bathroom. I could tell from the smell we were having chicken and rice. It was so good. Mom would brown the chicken with spices then put the chicken and rice together in a casserole dish and put it in the oven until it was cooked. We all sat at the table and passed the food dishes clockwise until everyone had everything.
Now it was time to eat and talk because this was the time everybody was at the same place at one time. Mom asked Dad what he was doing to the truck and Dad said he was just giving it a bit of a tune up. This was my cue to butt in.
“Guess what?”
Nobody said anything.
“I started the truck!”
Mom looked at Dad and said, “You shouldn’t let Larry do things like that!
“It’s okay; I showed him what to do.”
I could tell Mom wasn’t happy. I think she was worried about safety. That was the end of my highlight. Mom and Dad started to talk about the plans for the next day.
Supper was soon over and it was time to slip into the same old routine in the living room. Dad took the newspaper, sat in his recliner, turned on the TV and read the paper until the news came on. He watched the news until it was over, read the paper some more, fell asleep and woke up just before The Lawrence Welk Show came on. When that was over Dad would say, “Wonderful! Wonderful!” just like Lawrence Welk did. Then Dad would smile and laugh. He knew we didn’t like the show as much as he did and he knew it was a chore for us to watch it.
After Dad had watched what he wanted to it was our turn to watch what we wanted. This part of the evening was very democratic and we had to vote. Before the next show came on Dad asked me what I was up to the next day.
“Nothing,” I said
“Well, can you help me with the truck tomorrow?”
“Yes!” I wanted to start the truck again.
A movie was about to start so we all quieted down to watch the show, but a short while later Mom said, “Larry, it’s time for bed.” So off I went.
I read my comic book for a while until Mom got up from watching TV and saw down the hallway that my light was on.
With a loud, stern, voice she said, “Turn that light out and go to sleep.”
I knew better than to say anything so I put my comic down and turned out the light.
“I will see you in the morning,” she called.
As I lay in bed all was quiet. There was no rain and I couldn’t hear the background roar of the river.
I was up early in the morning. Dad was already up and at the breakfast table having a coffee and looking through the window out at the field. It looked like not a bad day. It was overcast, but it wasn’t raining. Mom was busy in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Dad and I sat at the table waiting for something to eat. Mom had bacon and eggs cooking in the cast iron frying pan. The aroma filtered through the entire house.
“How would you like your eggs?” Mom asked.
“Over easy,” we both replied.
Mom didn’t actually turn them over she just put a lid on the pan to steam the top of the eggs. There were two frying pans on the go; the other one had potatoes being fried. They were left over from the night before. Mom chopped them into cubes, put them in the pan, added salt, pepper and garlic powder and poured bacon fat from the other pan into the pan with the potatoes. Then she cooked them until they were golden brown. When all the food was ready Mom put it on a plate and brought it to the table for us. The eggs were from Feather’s Farm across the road, the pork was from Grandpa’s farm and the potatoes were from our garden. It was way better food than the food we got when we ate somewhere else. Dad and I finished up our breakfast and headed outside.