Candy Toss

Sunday, May 6, 2012

Puck was already calling out greetings to every kid, by name, wishing happy birthdays, shouting down to Lulu from the sound balcony, who was toting around her dad’s harmonica case.
If anyone could match Puck’s volume, it was Lulu Kennedy.
When it was time to enter the service, Puck sat beside OLeif, his right leg crossed over the top of his left, just like OLeif, painstakingly drawing “disobedient circles” (a basic disciplinary method invented by OLeif) on the attendance card and trying to follow the flow of events in the bulletin.
Ray Bolger filled in to lead Sunday School, a solid kind of bow-tied pale green VW bug driving sort of fellow.
Puck received decent reports of behavior in Sunday School…
“Mama! I made a shaky thing in Sunday School! I filled it so high! With rocks and macaroni!”
Pringles can tambourines.
Collette lifted the lid off Puck’s creation, and, indeed, it was brimming with black gravel and dried elbow macaroni…
“I think I put a bell in there too!” Puck explained.

Meanwhile,iIt was the last day to spend with Joe. He was splitting for New Mexico, midnight Tuesday morning, as commissary manager at Philmont Scout Ranch for three months of everything boy.
And Mom had spent the weekend with Grandma Combs, where the rest of the family caravaned to Valley of Flowers. But not before Joe predictably scooched his rear end around the outside of Carrie’s window to the groans of all involved.

Lunch-Dinner was ready. Hot dogs, brats, and fried chicken. A selection of chips and Cheez-Its. Grapes and Apples. Slushes for Linnea and Puck down the street. And Gus’ Pretzels carted down the street.
“I’m sorry I can’t buy any,” Puck explained to the spry somewhat older lady, eating in his chair at the curb. “But I have to save my money for the ferris wheel. I’m sure everyone else will buy the pretzels though.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” the lady replied. “Saving your money for the ferris wheel is a very important thing.”
But Grandma was already set with her wallet and purchased three paper bags of soft pretzel stick goodness to share with the crowd, which included everyone but Linus, who was once again working.
When Rose arrived later, she joined Collette and Carrie in the side green of wild strawberries to discuss work, church, Saturday’s super moon, the weekend, etc.
“What is this?” Joe asked, leaning over the back of his chair. “Pride and Prejudice?”
“I guess they have… grass… in Pride and Prejudice?” OLeif asked.
“You can’t fool me with your pendantic conversation,” Joe continued to address his sisters.
“Pendantic?”
“It’s a word. Look it up in your Pictionary.”
Then Carrie accidentally crushed a spider…
“Oh poor thing…”
“Are you going to have a spider ceremony now?” Francis scoffed, grinning behind his shades.
Meanwhile, Uncle Mo had been promoted.
And Rose – who had a difficult week with electrical outages, apparently getting electrocuted herself – had also somehow “sawed herself” while working with a new saw, still packaged. Her hand had bled diligently for some time. It looked like she had been in a cat fight.
Francis and Uncle Mo were busy tossing candy and napkins back and forth, causing trouble – but no more than Joe and OLeif tossing bead necklaces up onto the electrical wires following the endless parade of everything loud and colorful down the Night-of-the-Twisters avenue towards the fairgrounds. And Linnea stained her teeth and lips and incredible shade of blue from the slush, rubbing out the color behind glittery gold nails before impending embarrassment.
Puck raked in the usual half-ton of candies, beads, whistles, etc., handing out various selections to his aunts and uncles, upon request.
“Let’s see what kind of loot you’ve got in there,” Collette asked him.
“That’s not a lute, Mama,” Puck replied calmly. “It’s a whistle.”
All the Valley of Flowers queen candidates rolled by stitched up in shocking colors and crepe paper rose-stuffed convertibles…
“Why do they keep waving like that?” Uncle Mo asked.
“So their arm flab doesn’t shake,” Aunt Petunia explained.
“But their young kids,” he replied.
“Oh,” said Rose importantly. “There’s still flub.”
Then Elvis was called over by Grandma and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek to the smiling amusement of more than a few fellow parade-attendees.
“I got a kiss!” Grandma declared to Carrie. “And it’s still wet!”
“Oh, Grandma…”
“Is it over?” Collette asked.
“Nope,” Rose replied, craning her neck around the building. “There’s more shiny stuff coming.”
But finally…
It ended.

Back inside, Uncle Mo pulled in a large floor fan while the ladies prepared the cakes. Angel food, cannoli…
“Gannoli is how we always said it,” Grandma was saying.
“You say gannoli, I saw tomatuh,” Aunt Petunia replied.
Carrie stole a sauced strawberry from Rose’s plate.
“Stop that!”
“Oh,” said Grandma, settling into her chair. “I just can’t wait for Rose’s birthday. Could we give her her present now?”
“When’s Rose’s birthday?” Francis asked, not exactly a walking calendar.
“June 26th.”
The box was opened. A small safe for important documents. And it was a hit. Adults and their adult gifts. Collette could never understand, as a kid, how all the adults always put sweaters and mixing spoons on their wish lists.
“I hope my safe stinks,” said Rose, roundly.
“Why?”
“Because no one would want to open it.”
Meanwhile, Uncle Mo, Dad, and Joe stretched out on the carpet in various corners, cooling down, with Uncle Mo and Francis razzing each other as usual. And OLeif fixed Grandma’s remote controls for the television.
“Hey, OLeif,” said Carrie, handing him a sticker. “Stick this on Joe’s rear end.”
Then Dad “ran ropes” between Uncle Mo’s legs, sprawled on the floor.
“We used to do this in football,” said Dad.
“Don’t step on my calves,” said Uncle Mo.
Lucia and Carrie departed for coffee.

As the Silverspoon’s drove Rose to her car around little schools and stone houses wrapped in ivy and ancient trees, the streets were already swept clean, tidy, 1960’s-style, like when Mom and Dad were growing up there.

White storm towers billowed into the heavens, brilliant in the loosening sun.