Once she jumped on top of our tallest dresser, rattling pictures, vases, and porcelain birds; then she stood and stared, bug-eyed, into the picture on the wall, evidently thinking it was a window. She leaped onto the exercise bike and clattered the blinds, trying to see out. And then finally when I nearly fell asleep, there was a low, rumbling noise directly in my ear…no, it wasn’t the feline…it was the Homo sapien beside me, snoring peacefully. Aauugghh! Would you believe, I actually stayed awake through church, and I even know what the Sunday School lesson and the sermon were about?! We went for a ride after dinner, and Larry took us past Quail Run, where he works.
Monday, Larry actually wrote me an email!--he can use the computer at work:
“From: Larry Hergott (that’s the name of his boss, and the name that shows up on my computer under ‘Sender’)
To: lajacks@megavision.com
Date: Monday, November 15, 1999 11:12 AM
Subject: its ME again!
“Just looking up some parts on one of the cushman trucksters. So thought I would surprise you with an e-mail. Good-bye for now. Love, Larry.”
I responded:
Larry who? Who, Larry? How am I supposed to know these things? (mrs. lajacks scratches her head.) If there weren't so many Larrys in this world, life would be infinitely less confusing. And now, I will let the prankster get back to his truckster.
Love, mrs. lajacks
Here are a couple of emails he sent to the children:
To the Kids of 42nd Ave.: What are you doing?-- eating and sleeping, or goofing and wheezing? {He was inquiring into the state of health of those who were having trouble with asthma.} Just finished dinner, so I’d better get back to work on the old Ford tractor. Tell Mama hi! Love, Daddy
Late one night, Larry and I drove out to the wooden bridge over the Loup Canal, where we’ve gone fishing for catfish, and where we’ve sometimes seen river otters. We heard a big splash in the water, and I’m nearly sure it was an otter, but it was too dark; we couldn’t see it. And we’d forgotten the flashlights and spotlight. We had not yet learned that there was to be a meteor shower during the week, but we saw several falling stars.
This week the kids got their school pictures back. They are now all cut apart, and safely inserted into the Christmas cards.
The beautiful days continued all week; there is still a bad drought here in the Heartland Plains. But it’s not hindering our afternoon walks any. One afternoon Victoria noticed a large hawk --a Cooper’s, maybe?--soaring over SunMart Foods. (The Wrights call it “Unsmart” Foods.)
“Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “What kind is he?”
“It’s a hawk,” I replied.
She watched it for a moment as it wheeled on the breeze. “Does he really like to hawk?” she inquired.
Tuesday evening I again practiced with the orchestra and band; they’re getting better all the time. Only one more practice session, and then--Thanksgiving. I told the trumpet players that I would like a little tremolo, and Bobby, down at the end of the line, proceeded to play his saxophone in a high-pitched, trembling falsetto, just to give them a good demonstration, you know.
Larry’s been working on a ‘truckster’ at Quail Run -- similar to those sorts of carts such as we see at the zoo. He was doing the ‘winter check’--checking brakes, changing oil and all the filters, greasing it, and inspecting the frame for cracks. There has been such a lack of service on all their machinery that he will be busy for a good many months. The more he works there, the more he likes it. One day he happened to overhear his boss and another man talking.
“Larry’s sure getting a lot done,” said one.
“Yes,” agreed the other, “and it’s great to have somebody here who actually knows what he’s doing!”
They laughed. “He does that, all right,” concurred the first.
So Larry was pleased.
Tuesday, Hannah took Norma to Lincoln for her appointment with Dr. Shull. After the doctor’s appointment, they ate at Village Inn, then went to the Goodwill, and finally to Joanne’s Fabrics, where Hannah got me some black organza, dark green organza (for Hester and Victoria’s Christmas dresses), and white marabou for Victoria’s dress. That night, I cut out Victoria’s dark green velvet dress and lining, and began sewing it. Her dress is all done now, and it turned out adorable…even better than the one in StoryBook Heirlooms that sold for $225…and it only cost me $8--for a few yards of ribbons and pearls, and the organza and marabou.
Norma bought Hannah the pattern she will use for her bridesmaids; I reckon that mammoth sewing job will wind up being mine! Good thing I like to sew, yes?
Wednesday morning, Caleb had another asthma attack. I was in the living room when he came out of his room downstairs, and I heard him coming when he was still at the bottom of the steps. By the time he got to the top of the stairs, he was completely winded. He stayed home from both school and church that day.
An incident that occurred last week reminded me of my first few days at Nebraska Public Power District. I was 16 when I first started working in the Word Processing Center there. The age limit was really 17, but they made an exception for me, because I was in the Office Occupations Program at Columbus Senior High, and my teacher arranged the job for me. I will always believe he gave me the best job he found that year; it suited me to a tee, and I think he knew it would. Several times a year, I still send him a thank-you note for that job, just for the fun of it.
From the first day I began working there, several men in the drafting and engineering department were determined to give me a rough time. They had heard all about ‘Sweeneys’, you see, and had decided they didn’t like those sorts, whatever they were.
So, every day when work was over, they’d sit in their car in the parking lot until I backed out and drove by; and then that carload of men would pull in immediately behind me and tailgate me for blocks. At the stop signs, they’d pull up very close behind my car, stick their heads out the windows, and yell horrid things and make nasty gestures. A couple of days of that, and I had had enough. (I never was known for patience.)
The very next day at noon, I sneaked out early, rushed to my car, backed it up until it was directly in front of those men’s car--they hadn’t come out, yet--jumped out, and took a good look at the bumpers. Yup, they matched. I got back into my car, pulled back into my parking stall, and pretended to be busy--until I saw them, in my rear-view mirror, getting into their car. I waited until they started it…and then I backed out and pulled into the aisle. They immediately followed, as I’d known they would. We proceeded out of the parking lot, that big blue car inches from my bumper. Eventually, we arrived at the first stop sign. They, as predicted, started yelling offensive remarks and suggestions.
Try this, you thugs, I thought, and shifted quickly into reverse. I stepped hard on the accelerator, jerked my foot off the clutch, and went zooming backwards, as fast as that Le Car would go --and it was indeed a speedy little car. I tell you, one can get going faster than one might think, in reverse with the pedal to the metal!
WHAMMM!!
We made contact.
I happened to be looking in my mirror right when those bumpers smacked together, and I saw the driver’s head go bouncing forward and whack the steering wheel, while somebody in the middle back flew forward and thumped against the front seat, throwing the front passenger into the dash. But the expressions on their faces!--oh, haha, that was too, too funny (although I was concerned over the possible sorry state of my bumper. Those faces were filled with incredulity, and not a little bewilderment. Oh, hahaha.
Immediately upon arriving home, I hopped out and scurried to the rear of the car to look at the bumper. You can be sure, I sighed with relief when I saw that it was still as pristine and untouched as if nothing had ever happened to it! And, the next morning, I felt quite smug to see that their car’s bumper had a distinct bow to the middle.
That day, another carload of draftsmen pulled their stunt. As we exited NPPD’s lot, they positioned their big green car in front of mine, while the car with the convex bumper stayed behind (a farther distance than they had been staying, I might add). We proceeded like this for quite a ways, and I wondered just what sort of a stunt they were planning to pull.
Somewhere in the middle of town, they stopped at a red light…and stayed there through a green one…a red one… all the while, looking back at me, laughing, and making rude gesticulations. The light turned green again. They sat on. And then the man with the most despicable mouth of all opened his door and began getting out.
I suddenly jammed my car into first gear, stomped on the accelerator, and went pealing around those hoodlums--on the right side, next to the sidewalk, down through the gutter…where there was a nice-sized lake of mud and water. Gaining speed, I shifted into second and stepped hard on the accelerator. The wheels spun. Mud flew. I pressed fiercely on the accelerator, and mud went everywhere--including all over the bum who was still in the course of exiting the car, all over the men inside the car, and all over the insides of the voluminous car, and right into their open, hollering mouths. I sailed past them and continued on my way at a nippy clip a good ways over the speed limit. My last glimpse of them in my mirrors showed several of them sticking their heads out the windows, expectorating with vigor.
The next day, shortly before noon, the strangest thing happened: every last one of those involved in the fracases came into the Word Processing Center, and one, evidently appointed as spokesman, asked me to go to dinner with them! They--one and all--looked distinctly uncomfortable.
I refused. “No telling what you’d put into my food,” I exclaimed, smiling at each of them in turn.
They warily returned the smile. Nary a one of them apologized, but they were my friends and defenders, ever after.
Victoria and Caleb were recently having a race down the hallway.
Said Victoria, “On your marks! Get set! Wait! I’m not ready.”
Caleb, who’d jumped the gun and taken off pell-mell on the “Get set” cue, nearly fell over himself trying to stop. He got so tickled over this false start that he was nearly bent in half, laughing.
After Jr. Choir Thursday evening, Larry, Victoria, and I went to Wal-Mart. As we were walking down an aisle, Larry stepped on the back of Victoria’s sandal.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “I’m sorry; I stepped on your shoe!”
Victoria walked calmly on. A minute or two later, she whirled around and said, “Daddy! These are sandals!” She raised her eyebrows high and looked at him hard. “Can you say, ‘ssaanndaall’?”
Saturday Larry, Victoria, and I went to Sumner (‘Summoner”, according to Victoria) to take a pickup to Butch’s Salvage Yard. Butch, in turn, was supposed to send back a pickup worth just enough more than the one we took him that it would cancel the amount he owes us. Unfortunately, Larry couldn’t find a pickup he wanted; at least, not one that we wouldn’t wind up owing Butch for, and we didn’t want to do that. So, after a stretch of indecision, we left empty-handed, and I was late getting back for practice. All the worse, because the Jr. Choir came…but I did have time to play through their song once with them.
During this pretty drive through the sandhills, I got the forest-green organza rosettes done for Victoria’s dress, and sewed them on. Next, I sewed ribbons and pearls on it in loops hanging down from the rosettes. It really is beautiful now. Victoria at first acted like she didn’t especially care for the dress, probably because of its dark green color; but once I put all that frill and frippery on it, she changed her mind.
After my father died, my mother gave us all of Daddy’s old ties. Some are very skinny, some very wide. I cut a few down for the boys, and the rest are still lurking in the nether regions of the wardrobe.
One day when we were getting ready for church, Larry asked in an urgent tone, “Where are those ties of your father’s?”
“In the closet,” I replied, “Why?”
He started pulling on his suit coat, sans shirt. “Well, I have to have a really wide one; I can’t find my shirt!”
(It was found in Teddy’s room, fortunately.) (Fortunately for whom has not been precisely determined.)
Before Sunday School yesterday, Larry put four chickens into the roaster, for we were planning to have Bobby, Keith, and Esther come for dinner.
Hannah was surprised. “Four chickens fit in that thing?”
Larry nodded. “Sure. Didn’t you hear me stomping?”
Beside the chicken, we had dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits, lettuce salad, and fruit/jello salad with graham cracker crumbs. Everyone was stuffed. Well…maybe not everyone…
Victoria was sitting on Larry’s lap, and he was giving her some bites of his food. Finally, when it seemed that she’d had quite enough, he asked her, “Are you getting full?”
And she, without hesitation, and with a great deal of conviction, replied, “Nope!”
When everyone was getting up to go into the living room, Bobby picked up the hat Hannah had been wearing, plopped it on his head, and went strutting off, the bow on the back of it bobbing along in time to the march. hahaha That looked so funny, Larry and I couldn’t quit laughing.
Sunday evening, the Jr. Choir sang a song called Our Best. And that’s the last of Jr. Choir until January--from now on, it will be Christmas Program practice. The first practice is Friday night.
And now, it is time to tuck Victoria into bed for a nap, time to make sure the Christmas program is all in order, time to fix supper, time to sew a black organza sash for Hester’s dress, time to sew some marabou feathers around Lydia’s neckline, and, last, but not least, time to clean the house enough that some unwary soul, upon an innocent entrance, doesn’t mistake it for a pig-sty.
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