Tag Archives: crazy

When Davy Crockett saved Mary Poppins

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I’m ready to climb the Brother Branch of the Crazie Family Tree. If you need to get caught up, click here.

I was born two weeks after this picture was taken

I was born two weeks after this picture was taken

Sibling Position #2 – Two Years Older Than Me

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It was a beautiful late-summer day under a cobalt Kansas sky, littered with puffy white clouds. Mike, a ten-year-old ready for a day as Davy Crockett, carried a BB gun and Dad’s dented army canteen hung from his belt. I was ready for a day as a bookworm and carried a faded copy of Mary Poppins.

We took a short-cut through the freshly mowed hay field and hiked until we reached the creek that ran through the middle of our farm. The last heavy rain cut a perfect bench out of the bank halfway down a steep slope. I tumbled down and, sweeping the dust from my book, settled into a pool of sunlight to read. Mike ran around killing clods of dirt with his BB gun.

He finished his job of protecting the farm and slid down the bank to sit next to me. We took swigs of metallic tasting water from the canteen and I asked Mike about important things.

–Does Romper Room really have a magic mirror? Mike said yes, that Miss Connie called his name several times. I was crushed because even though she’d looked directly at me from the television, she’d never called mine.

–Can we start a club where no big sisters are allowed? He said, sure, we’ll start it right now and we shook on it.

–Will Mom and Dad ever quit arguing? Mike paused and because he’s always honest with me, said he didn’t think so.

After his last answer, we sat quietly contemplating our life, filled with times of shouting followed by hugs and laughter.

“Shhhhh!” Mike grabbed my arm. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” I listened as the leaves on the ground above our head rustled. “Sheesh.” I sneered. “What a scaredy cat. It’s just leaves.”

“No it’s not. Listen.” Again the leaves rattled.

We stood up to investigate and came eye to eye with a rattlesnake. “Snake!” I screamed.

Mike fired off a couple of BBs, then took hold of my hand and pulled me through the creek. We raced all the way home — Mike stopping every few yards to shoot at the demonic snake that was right on our heels. (You’ll say a snake can’t move that fast and couldn’t have been following us. To this day Mike swears it’s true and, because he always tell me the truth, I believe him.)

Clamoring into the house, we shut the door behind us and climbed onto the couch. Mom marched in asking what all the noise was about and before we could explain, Mike’s in trouble for bringing the BB gun into the house and I’m in trouble for leaving my book outside. And, even though Mom stood in front of us screaming, we smiled because we knew she’d keep us safe.

Stories from the Crazie Tree – Big Sister has something to get off her chest.

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I’ve been tracing the Crazie Family Tree – click here for last week’s ancestry.

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Big Sister

Big Sister

Sibling Position – #1 – Three Years Older Than Me

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Janet and Teresa in pajamasJanet and I shared a room on the second floor that had been haphazardly added to our tiny house when we were teenagers. Janet never got used to moving upstairs and everything frightened her. She once woke me up to say there was a stranger scratching at our second story window. I turned on the light to discover a limb from the hackberry tree moving in the breeze, swiping across the screen.

Another night, she woke me to say something was sitting on her chest.

I groaned. “Well, take it off your chest.”

“Noooo,” she moaned. “Turn on the light.”

I stumbled out of bed and flipped the switch for the overhead light. A gigantic grizzled grey cat with one torn and jagged ear, stood on top of her like a marble statue, glaring into Janet’s frightened face.

I raced down the stairs screaming, “Wild cat! Wild cat!” Even though I’m sure my Grandpa, who lived a half mile away could hear me screeching in terror, when I made it to my parents room, Mom was sound asleep. Dad lay on his back, an ashtray on his chest, smoking.  He took a long drag, blew out the smoke then asked me why I was causing such a ruckus.  I continued my refrain of “Wild cat! Wild cat!” He stubbed out the cigarette, placed the ashtray on the floor next to him and followed me — in his Fruit of the Loom white briefs — back upstairs.

I cowered behind him as he marched into our room and grabbed the cat, whereupon it immediately switched from marble-statue-mode to Tasmanian-devil-mode. Claws in killer position, hissing and yowling, it latched onto to one of Dad’s catcher-mitt-sized hands.

Cursing a blue streak, he managed to get it down the stairs and tossed the ferocious savage out the back door.  Dad returned to bed and placing the ashtray back on his chest, lit a cigarette. Janet and I had a hard time getting to sleep. I’d just nodded off when I heard her whisper, “Teresa. It’s back.”

I didn’t wait to turn on the light, but headed straight for the stairs screaming “It’s back! It’s back.” Dad came prepared this time, with thick leather gloves. He picked the cat up by the scruff of the neck and shouted through the screams — cat and kids — for someone to unhook the screen on the window.  We did and out the monster went.

Don’t worry, cat fans, the villain in this story survived his two story fall just fine. In fact, he went on to terrorize us for several weeks by crawling through the poorly installed heating vents and appearing in odd places throughout our house.