Ch. 168; Vol. 10
“Mom, are we doing school in the deep afternoon, or the afternoon?”
Puck just has to know these things. As we drove out that morning for Vacation Bible School. I misheard the lyrics to The Bear’s music as usual, mistaking some bluegrass gibberish for “St. Charles Sea”, but it gave me a thought anyway…
“I wish we had a sea. The St. Louis Sea. Doesn’t that sound cool?”
“You should have somebody work on that,” The Bear told me, as we curved into the gold-green of the back road.
“I should.”
Joe wasn’t looking too great.
“Catfish,” he explained.
“Here, take a Pepto Bismol to work,” Carrie was telling him.
“In case it… revisits you,” I suggested.
“Yeah, that ‘steak’ Dad had,” Carrie said, “– he wasn’t feeling so great.”
I congratulated myself for thinking ahead by not ordering anything with meat in it.
“Yeah, that catfish tail flipping out of your mouth,” we teased Joe.
“You’ll be sitting at your desk and, ‘Oh, he-llo.’” The Bear laughed.
So VBS… VBS, VBS. It was sort of chaotic. Maybe a lot chaotic. I mean, registering 79 kids, a hot day, and no one knew exactly what they were doing yet. Counted sticky piles of loose change for the Ryes in Ethiopia, ran 90 copies of newsletters on sun yellow paper. But I did have a few minutes to hear about one of our southern ladies at church, and how she met Elvis back in the day. Her Mississippian drawl sort of lulls you along a few states south…
“He was quite a good lookin’ fella. Gave me a hug and a kiss – right there – on the cheek. I still have a picture he gave to me that day. Figured I’d save it for when I’m old and in a nursin’ home and have to pay for it… But we were invited to a party he was havin’ over at a closed theme park or somethin’ like that, and I told them my momma’d kill me if I was out with some guys. So I didn’t go to it.”
Grandma Combs was 77 that afternoon. Sonic: chili dogs, burgers, popcorn chicken, fries, iced tea, chocolate chip cookies, balloons. Blanchette Park. The recent wedding was the ladies’ topic of conversation for the afternoon. Puck raced the park with a boy in an orange shirt, shooting icy drinking fountains at each other’s heads to cool off.
Three short shrill blasts of whistle from the pool across the park. Something was coming. We packed up the picnic; thunder rumbled. More lightening, thunder, and then the rain about the time we were a mile out from Mom’s and Dad’s.
Joe had left me messages about how he still felt weird from the catfish…
“Did you take your Pepto Bismol yet?”
“Nope. I’m a man!”
Howl’s Moving Castle for Puck – he claims films during rainstorms. Linnea still walked to Dairy Queen with Gretyl to visit a friend – first day on the job. She brought an umbrella. Caught up on the local home schooled kid – a friend of friends – who was probably being sent to the Johnson City, TN rookie ball league.
Cold caprese salad skewers for dinner.
“Drinking Rum and Coca Cola”.
Mom likes to set atmosphere for Bible studies.
Joe walked in, sprinkled salt on an avocado, feeling better. Puck carved up the fat seed with a dull knife on the patio, watching the cardinals’ nest…
“Saw birds feeding their babies,” he told me important, like a tough guy.
The Bear was delayed: traffic, rain. Bible study was starting over Plum accounts of vacation in Alaska, trains through California, and coffee in the kitchen.
Puck was next to adamant after his shower – he had to keep a long, unused plastic bag he dug somewhere out of the sink cabinet…
“Why do you want to keep it, Puck?” The Bear asked him again.
“’Cause LOOK, DAD! You can SHOONK IT DOWN – LIKE THIS! – and IT’S FUN FOR A KID! It’s just FUN FOR A KID, DAD!”
