Sunday, November 28, 1999 - A Genuine Piece of Milquetoast, Thanksgiving Day, and Tumbling Trees

I now have all of my father’s sermon outlines on my computer. They are completely done, and my nephew, Robert Walker, has made at least two dozen copies of the entire series. It takes a couple of two-inch notebooks to hold all the notes. I am one of the privileged few to get a picture of my father on the cover of the first notebook.


Larry had another abscessed tooth. Since he’s had root canals done on all the front teeth, the abscess gets into his gums, and he doesn’t feel it until it has gotten quite bad. By the time he realizes what has happened, it is so bad that it makes him sick. Luckily, we had a bottle of Amoxicillan in our cupboard, and, after he took a couple of them, the abscess went away. We are glad to have insurance now; but it will only cover half of the cost for dental work.

The pressure relief valve in the water heater in our church basement popped off. Monday morning, water was everywhere--about 50 gallons worth. Chapel--just singing, this time--was held upstairs, while things were put to rights in the lower level.

Dorcas has gone to help Susan and to play with Matthew every day this week, because Susan is having troubles again. The baby will probably be born this week. It is over a month early. The doctor thinks everything will be okay, but you never can tell…

One day when Larry was getting ready for work, he reached into the refrigerator and took out the covered bowl into which he’d put his dinner--chicken cordon bleu. He stuck it into his lunch bag, along with a small can of fruit.

Lunchtime arrived. He got his bag out of the refrigerator in the break room …opened it up … and pulled out a brand-spanking new carton of butter.

It seems that, in his early-morning rush, he’d gotten the wrong bowl. The butter went back into the refrigerator, and Larry took himself off to the nearest convenience store to buy his lunch.

When he returned, a couple of his coworkers asked him if he didn’t want to share his butter with them.

That same day, Hester made herself some toast. Getting the slice out of the toaster, she liberally coated it with butter…then peanut butter…she poured herself some milk…got a drink…and then, instead of next putting jelly on the toast as she had intended, she poured her milk on it. Still daydreaming, she picked up her knife--and then stared down in dismay at that hapless piece of toast, now soggy with milk.

“A genuine piece of milquetoast,” deadpanned Hannah, and everyone burst out laughing.

(No, Hester didn’t eat it.)

Tuesday and Wednesday, Victoria had the flu. She still wasn’t quite up to par (or ‘up to power’, as a friend of ours used to say) Thursday, but we took her to our church dinner anyway. She had been very worried that she would have to stay home, and not get to wear the new dress her Grandma Fricke had made for her. So, when I got her out of bed Thursday morning and began putting the dress on her, she beamed. “Oh, I am getting all better now, aren’t I?!” she asked happily.

Our last practice with the orchestra and band was Tuesday evening. It took a while to get everybody arranged and figure out who would go where and when whom should do what when the violinists finished playing and the boys with horns were ready to walk up to the front. Keith and Teddy wind up in a bit of a quandary at such times, because they have to put their cello and violin down somewhere, pick up their saxo-phone and trombone, and find their place amongst the members of the band. Would you believe this: the boys got themselves all arranged in the pew where they were going to sit; I began playing… they got up and filed up to the platform… and they were completely switched around backwards, and it wasn’t even my fault!

I was pleased. I was smug. (…because it’s usually my fault.)

The children got out of school at noon Wednesday, and they don’t have to go back to school until tomorrow. Every day immediately after school, Teddy heads for Foremans’ dogs, Mandy and Annie. Mandy is a golden lab, and Annie is a blue heeler. He lets Mandy out of the gate, releases Annie’s tether, and then throws a ball down the alley as far as he can, and Mandy goes bounding after it like she’s made out of rubber. (Annie disdains such frivolous pastimes.) He likes to let them into our yard, and they charge around like raving maniacs.

I opened my window and called, “Hi, Annie,” and that little dog looked up and stared at me for a moment or two, then began wagging her little stub of a tail so hard she nearly knocked herself down. So she did remember me!--and I haven’t even petted her since Mr. Foreman brought her back, and she’s been gone almost a year.

Speaking of dogs… One time I was telling the children that they mustn’t run from a mean dog; that will make him chase a person all the more. What one should do is to get down on all fours and gallop madly straight at him, barking and snarling and showing his teeth. Almost every dog in the world will run. Should you happen to choose the one dog in the country that doesn’t, be prepared to bite him on the end of the nose before he bites you on the end of the nose.

One time when I was about 16 or 17, I was walking along, going to my friend's house, when a nasty dog belonging to another friend who happened to live next door came dashing out, barking and snarling. I knew for a fact that he had a penchant for biting people. He was a big dog, part Shepherd and part Hun, I think. Anyway, I leaned over and snarled right back at him (not on all fours; I didn't want to ruin my knees), and then ran at him, waving my arms and yelling.

He said, "YIPE!" and fled around a big Douglas fir nearby. I ran around the tree the other way, with the intent to cut him off at the pass. He reversed his direction. So did I. So, dodging back and forth, around this tree we ran, the Hun and the Girl, yiping (the Hun) and snarling (the Girl)... until all of a sudden, I heard somebody laughing. I turned and looked.

There, across the street, stood the grandmother of the person who owned the dog. I was mortified. I waved at her cheerily, and proceeded on down the sidewalk at what I hoped was a dignified stride. (But I'm sure my ears were bright red.) Anyway, that stupid dog never chased after ME again.

Keith and Esther came visiting Wednesday night--and brought us a real, live Christmas tree! Keith came marching in the door with the tree marching along in front of him, totally convulsing Caleb.

“A tree just came to visit,” he called to the rest of us, laughing until we could hardly understand him.

Teddy went off to the store and got ice cream and root beer, and we all had root beer floats.

We practiced our Thanksgiving songs--I played the piano, Keith his cello, and Dorcas her violin.

And then Thursday had arrived. Our Thanksgiving dinner was at 1:00. The congregation met upstairs at 12:30 to sing. The band and orchestra outdid themselves, and received many kind words. Later, Victoria, commenting on the instrumentals, told me, “It was really loud. I could hear it really really well, because it was sure loud enough.”

I used up three rolls of film…mostly on the children. I suppose I didn’t get any pictures of those I really needed to, in order for the pictures in the Christmas cards to be complete… Ah, well; it’s their own fault; they didn’t come and pose.

In between all that shutter-snapping, I gave the children their poems and verses. Victoria managed to make it safely through the dinner, although she was still pale as a ghost, poor little thing. Afterward, Larry and Teddy, and Keith, too, went to play football with Kenny and his boys and a dozen or so cousins. Bobby and Hannah and Joseph went to the Wrights’ to play a few games of this and that; and Dorcas, Hester, Lydia, and Caleb helped clean the house. Caleb had a leg ache all day…seems to run in the family.

Thursday evening the children decorated the Christmas tree, always a favorite task. Caleb, who has made it to the advanced position of Grade One, upon finding a few of his very own handmade ornaments, exclaimed, “Oh, look! Here are the things I made a long, long time ago, way back when I was in kindergarten!”

Upon getting up the next morning, Caleb, in his usual cheery, goodnatured way, said, “My leg stopped hurting while I was sleeping!” He thought about it a moment. “Or maybe I just didn’t know it was hurting, if it did!” he concluded.

By Friday evening, the tree had fallen over for the third time, and had to be totally redecorated. The second time it fell, there was a muffled exclamation, and then a small boy crawled out from underneath it…Caleb had been sitting on the floor beside the tree, looking up admiringly at it--when, quite suddenly, it came down around his ears. A little later, Lydia was sitting playing the piano, when suddenly the tree fell on her. Lydia yelped and scrambled out from under it.

She turned and looked at the now-prone tree, one hand on her hip. “Well,” she remarked, lifting an eyebrow, “I guess that tells you what that tree thought of my playing!”

One afternoon, the little girls were folding clothes. Victoria picked up a large bath towel, tucked one edge under her chin, and attempted to fold it.

“Shall I fold it for you?” Hester asked her little sister.

“No,” answered Victoria, “It’s too big for you.” haha

Friday evening was our first Christmas Program practice. Everything went swimmingly. It really pays to be practicing with the Jr. Choir ahead of time. There was one scary moment when, after arranging the very small children--ages 4-6--I was just telling them what song we were going to sing, and looking at one small boy... he must've combed his own hair...it was all slicked down in the front and pulled forward until he resembled Adolph Hitler.

And I was just thinking, Tee hee! There's Little Lord Fontleroy, when I took another look and thought, Little Lord Fontleroy is ill, and then he gagged. I mean, he gagged his socks off.

I said hastily, "Oh, are you getting sick? Come quick!" and I reached out and snatched a very hot, very dry little hand, turned and fled down the aisle with him.

His father, who happened to be in the nether regions of the sanctuary, came rushing to meet us. I gladly passed over the small hand, amazed that we hadn't yet baptized the aisle, and said in what I thought was a quiet voice, "RUN for it!"--but it must not have been so quiet as all that, because everyone burst out laughing, and even poor little sick Alan smiled sickly. They made it out the swinging doors...and I don't know what happened after that.

I really love all those children... I was giving the little first-graders their poems, and telling them what they would get to hold while they said them (crown, Baby, gift, manger, angel, etc.), and I said to one timid little girl, "Michaela! You get to hold Baby Jesus!" I started to hand her the paper with her poem on it. Then I pulled it just out of reach and said, "But you have to keep that doll from squalling and bawling in the middle of the program!"

And that shy child actually giggled right out loud. I grinned at her and handed her the poem. Yes, I love the little ones--right up to the 12^th-graders.

One girl who is just a bit mentally handicapped, but sweet as can be, happened to be sitting in a chair a little too close to the edge of the platform. She scooted her chair--and nearly tumbled off. The organist took a flying leap and caught the chair--luckily, before it got too far tipped; I don't imagine she could've righted it, had it gone much farther, for the girl is quite a bit bigger than my friend who plays the organ. Anyway, being a bit nervous about leaving that girl on the edge, I tried switching her and Dorcas around (Dorcas was on the other side of her). But we were trying to arrange them according to height, and Dorcas was taller.

Somebody asked, "Why did you want to switch them?" And I stuttered, "Well, uh, er, ah.." (I didn't want to make the girl feel bad) "...um, I don't want Belinda to fall off."

And then Dorcas. Dorcas, who is usually quiet, and a little bit timid in such situations. Dorcas giggled and announced to the crowd at large, "But she doesn't care if I fall off." Of course, all the children roared with laughter (including Belinda).

Lydia and Caleb didn't go to practice, because they had the flu. After Caleb lost his dinner, he said mournfully, "It's from Victoria!"

Friday afternoon, Hannah got the Peptobismal out of the cupboard to give to Lydia. Victoria, watching, said, “That is just for I.” And then, “It’s really just mine.” And further, “It’s for me.” And then, “I’m sick. I really am.”

Hannah replied, “No, you’re getting better; Lydia needs the medicine now!”

And Victoria, still staring hard at that yummy Peptobismal, answered, “I really don’t need to get better!”

Very early Saturday morning, I came out into the living room, flipped on the light--and blinded both Hester and Lydia, who'd taken up refuge on couch and loveseat. They were both sick. I sent them into my bedroom while I typed, so I wouldn’t keep them awake.

Some friends of ours got an electronic piano and an organ for the school. My sister, Lura Kay, and her husband went to Omaha Friday and picked them out. Their son Robert also bought a big organ for his wife Margaret; and Penny purchased an electronic piano identical to the one for the school. Lynita called Hannah and asked her if she would like the old piano that had been in the basement of the church. (That is where Chapel is conducted each morning.)

Hannah called Bobby to tell him of the offer. He said, “Let me think about it for a moment, and I’ll call you back.”

Hannah thought, “That’s strange; after all, it is free!”

But Bobby called back immediately and said he thought that would be fine, and Hannah thought no more of it. So they moved it out of the church, with help from several husky young boys. We tried calling Larry for a little aid and assistance, but he was nowhere to be found. Across the street, many small noses were pressed against the panes as many eyes watched the proceedings with interest.

They no sooner got that piano into the back of the pickup, than Keith seated himself on a toolbox and began playing, Charlie Daniels style. Merry laughter was heard from the house across the street. Hannah rode with them to their house, where they unloaded the piano and discovered--they had forgotten the bench. So back they came to collect the bench.

Sunday morning after Sunday School, I learned from Bethany, Bobby’s mother, just exactly why Bobby had acted a bit strangely when Hannah called him the day before:

“This is a dead secret,” she whispered in my ear, “but Bobby bought Hannah a brand-new piano, and it has been stored at Linda’s house. So, come Christmas, we’ll have to decide what to do with this old piano!”

Saturday Teddy didn’t feel well, and he stayed home most of the day. Later in the afternoon, he began feeling better, so he decided to go to the shop. Larry wasn’t there. He’d gone hunting both Friday and Saturday mornings at a friend’s farm just across the Loup River, so Teddy rode the four-wheeler down to the river to see if he could find him. Somewhere along his route, he flew down into a dip, then went abruptly over a hump--and he wound up hitting his chin on something on the handlebars, splitting it open. He got home half an hour later, white as a sheet. I took one look and knew he would have to have it sewed up.

It was almost time for me to go to practice; the little kids were all sick;---and I still couldn’t find Larry. Keith happened to be here, looking around in the garage for his extension cords for his Christmas lights. He immediately offered to take Teddy to David City, so I took him up on it with relief. Teddy was glad to have his brother take him, and I called the hospital to let them know Teddy was coming, and to give my permission for any procedures they would use, and for a long-overdue tetanus shot. He had to have 10 stitches. It will leave a nasty scar, but at least it’s just under his jawbone, where it won’t show too awfully much. Oh, these things turn my stomach and make my hands shake. I was not cut out to be a nurse, I don’t think. Well, I would be well saturated with compassion, but……

Saturday evening, the Sr. Choir came to church, and we practiced a new song (well, new to us; but it’s actually probably 100 years old), Gathering Home. Afterward, I got to play the new electronic piano--and Sandy played the new organ. They are beautiful instruments, and we got a smashing bargain on them--the music company took $1,000 off the total price, since we bought so many things at the same time.

This morning, I broke my left little fingernail about halfway down while playing the piano. It was still attached, and poking my finger and jerking on what was left of the nail with every note I hit; so, before the next song, I held my breath and jerked it the rest of the way off. It then bled all over the keys, and I had a difficult time playing. Do you think the sleepyheads who were contemplating their Sunday morning church naps would’ve jumped wide awake, had I howled “YEEEOOOOWEEEE!!” as I yanked the fingernail off?

I sat all by myself in our pew today--only Hannah and Dorcas came to church with me, and they sit with the other young ladies. The rest of the family were all sick (except Larry, who stayed home to babysit). Teddy and Joseph managed to make it to church tonight.

After church, Helen Tucker, Annette’s mother, started playing the new organ downstairs, at the same time John and Lura Kay, Merlin and Lynita and I were discussing the new instruments upstairs in the south coatroom. Suddenly, all the flocks and hordes of people who were in the school and the front hallway, talking and chattering, grew quiet; and then, in universal consent, they trooped en masse down the stairs and into the basement to enjoy the beautiful music issuing from the new organ. We soon followed, and directly somebody asked me to accompany Helen on the electronic piano. I gladly did so.

Loren and Janice were there, and when we began playing songs from the Inspiring Hymns, he, greatly enjoying the music, asked for a paper to write songs down for next Sunday. That’s when we told him--the Inspiring Hymns is not at this time in the songbook racks in the sanctuary. So guess what?! He recommended we soon put the Inspiring Hymns in! Goody, goody coughdrops. (Victoria’s remark.) We don’t change books nearly often enough, and I miss singing some of the songs that then we don’t get to--such as Meet Me There, We Shall Dwell Forever There, Let Us Crown Him, There is Joy in Serving Jesus, Jesus is the Joy of Living… and more.

Now Hannah has the flu. She came back upstairs about midnight, and was describing to us how one cousin, who sat beside her tonight, wiggles furiously all the way through church…how the usher seated too many girls in one row and Hannah got squished by one of her cousins who must weigh a good 250 pounds… how one boy pops to his feet to turn on the video camera, and when how he plops back down again, he head nearly comes loose… We wound up laughing till we cried at all of her silly animations.

Tonight during the service, Loren told about Bullet bugging him when he was trying to study, bringing his dog bowl, etc.; said he thinks the devil gets into him. haha He said he finally told on him--that is, he told Janice, who ‘talked’ to Bullet about it, after which the beast went and laid down in the bedroom and went to sleep.

“It’s no fair!” said Loren, “I don’t get the proper respect!” haha

Almost dinnertime!