|
|
|
|
 |
 |
Sometimes the storms others may not see
are the ones that do the lasting damage...
of TheColumnists.com
Three generations of Haley women raced around the kitchen grabbing bottles of water, sandwiches, flashlights and a radio to take with them into the storm shelter. Backpacks hastily were stuffed with these necessities. Katie, the grandchild, was too young to take a tornado warning seriously. To her it was something in a cartoon; nobody suffered damages. Jessie and Jeanie, mother and daughter, had worked out the routine of grabbing their storm survival goods down to a science over the years. Folks in Western Kansas expected these bad times and made plans to stay safe
Yesterday's family get-together
following Uncle Bud's funeral left plenty of food to last
several days. Jessie packed a container with chocolate
cake because she knew Katie enjoyed it so much..
Well, Bud, I'm surely glad this storm didn't hit when we
buried you. I guess we have you to thank for all this fine
food. "Katie! One doll is enough!"
"Hold my hand," Jeanie ordered the child as they reached
the kitchen door.
"Mama, I want to carry Beanie."
"I told you he's already in the shelter. Come on!"
"Did you leave one light on upstairs?"
"Yes, Mom, I did."
"Okay, here we go,"
Jessie calmly announced.
She opened the door, the younger pair stepped onto the porch.
The three Haleys, hands linked, ran through the dark rainy afternoon,
across the back yard to the shelter's entrance. Some 20
years ago Eddie had built an underground safe place to wait out
tornadoes and high winds. Now his widow and family gratefully
took refuge there. Old dog Beanie had been rushed into
the shelter first to keep him out of their way while they made
ready for the storm. There he was, sleeping peacefully
right where they left him on his cedar lined mattress.
"Don't you wish we could stay as calm as Beanie does?"
"You'd be calm, too, if everyone else took care of getting ready for the tornado and all you had to do was sleep through it."
"Grammy, will we be here all day?"
"Maybe, maybe not. When we hear the all-clear siren, we'll know it's over. Get yourself snuggled down on your cot and see if you can take a nap like Beanie."
"Grammy, what if we're here all night?"
"Then we're here all night."
"I might get hungry."
"You might."
"Katie, you know we've never been here all night."
"She's too young to remember that. Do you remember the time we almost spent all night? You were 11 that summer."
"Oh, yes. That was the same time I decided I'd leave Kansas and tornadoes the first chance I got. Little did I realize I'd always have some kind of natural disaster to deal with."
"What natural disaster have you had to deal with?"
"My divorce, Mom. In California that's always a natural disaster. You’re lucky it never happened to you. I know it was hard when Dad died, but at least you parted on good terms."
If you only knew. Your daddy was lucky I let him live as long as he did.
"Grammy, will Uncle Bud be all right? Is he scared?"
"Uncle Bud's in Heaven, honey. He's not worried about anything any more."
"Okay."
"Will you sell the
home place now and come to live with us? You don't need
this big house now that Uncle Bud's gone. We'd love to
have you. Katie needs her Grammy.
"I don't know yet what I'll do. About selling this
place, I mean. The real estate developers have sniffed
around here off and on for years."
Eddie, you worthless bastard, if you'd behaved yourself maybe you'd still be with us.
"Hold out for a good price. You worked awfully hard to get it paid off. Daddy should have bought a bigger life insurance policy."
Your daddy spent so much on his floozies he couldn't afford to take care of our future.
"Yes, he should have, but he didn't. That's why I always pushed you to get a good education and have a good job. The only person you can depend on is yourself."
"I always felt sorry for you when you went out to clean Mrs. Ward's house. And all those other people, too. They never treated you right."
"Some did, especially Mrs. Ward. Who do you think bought your school clothes? Who do you suppose paid your first year's college tuition? It wasn't me or your Uncle Bud. No, it was Mrs. Ward."
"Mom! You never said a word before."
"You didn't need to know."
"Sorry. Let's stay happy. What did you and Dad do to occupy yourselves in here? I think I always went to sleep and missed the excitement."
Oh, you did miss the excitement. You didn't have to listen to your daddy confessing his running around with that Charlotte woman. I wish he'd never told me
"We talked about everyday things mostly."
Mostly he drank and ran the streets with your Uncle Bud. Mostly he spent his time with her, that Charlotte.
"How long after Dad died did Uncle Bud move in? I forgot."
"Well, now, he had his stroke two years after your daddy died. That makes it 15 years back."
"Was he an easy one to live with and take care of?"
Any man who can't talk much or run around on you is easy to live with.
"He wasn't all that much trouble. I was lucky to have a good deal of help from that nice nurse who came round every week these last couple of years."
Never mind she was Charlotte's girl and Eddie's daughter. She couldn't help that.
"Thank the Lord my Dad didn't linger. I mean, I'm sorry he died. But, now that I'm grown up and know more about the world, I understand how bad it would have been with two sick men to care for.
Good thing your daddy liked his coffee strong with a shot of booze or he would have likely tasted the rat poison. It took so many times, I thought he'd taken a liking to the taste.
"Sometimes it works out that way."
"That time we almost stayed the whole night here, did you and Dad get scared and talk about the future?"
No, we didn't get scared. Your daddy got scared. That fear made him feel he didn't want to die with sins on his mind. He took a notion to confess to me so's he'd leave this world with a clear conscience. He told me about his woman, Charlotte. He told me about the baby she was carrying. He wanted to tell me about the women before her, and I stopped him.
"We didn't talk so much about the future as we did the past. That was a long, long time ago. I forgot a lot of it."
He signed his death warrant that night. I remember planning how I'd get rid of his fancy ways. He's the one who bought the rat poison a month before, not me. It got rid of a rat okay.
Time passed slowly and silently. All the activity associated with Bud's funeral had made the Haley women tired. This was the only quiet time they had in almost a week. They had slept more than an hour when they heard the all-clear siren. Their own beds felt good that night.
"Good morning, Mom. I'll get us some breakfast now that you're up. Coffee?"
"Thank you. Toast is enough for me."
"Will you give some serious thought to moving to California? You'd like it there. No tornadoes, you know."
"Beanie's never been anywhere
else. I can't leave him here.
"We've got a big back yard, Mom. He'd do fine."
"It's too soon to say. That real estate man will show up soon enough. I'll think about it."
"Will you need me to come back and help you clear out the house?"
Not until I have time to get rid of the rat poison I've kept all these years under the sink.
"I'd appreciate it, honey. I couldn't do it without you."
"Think of all the fun you can give yourself with the money. Didn't you say Uncle Bud left you his insurance?"
"That's barely enough to cover his burying costs. Whatever's left over I thought I'd give to that nice nurse I told you about."
"Are you sure that's the right thing to do? That was her job."
Her daddy never did anything for her. At least one man in this family should be good to her.
"Yes, it would be the right thing to do. I won't need it. The money I get out of this place will do me."
"You make me proud, Mom. I hope I can be as good as you are."
I hope you never have to be.
"Thank you, honey. Uh-oh, don't
burn that toast."
©2004 by Patricia J. Geister. The drawing is from IMSI's
Master Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael,
CA, 94901-5506, USA.
|
You can get reprint rights for as low as $25. To learn more, click here: REPRINTS |
You
can comment on this column online. Please address your message
to either "The Editors" or Patricia J. Geister. To
send an email, click here: talkback@thecolumnists.com
| Home | About Us | Archives | Talkback | Shopping Mall |