Hands in Pockets
Today is Monday. There is a plan in place for our dead and dying lilacs to be taken down and out. Yes, it was my idea. With that being said, Dennis and his son Ken are in charge of pulling it off. Me? Stay in the house and mum is the word. Keep my hands in my pockets and if I am needed, I will hear about it. That’s hard for me. Both of my kids know that about me and Dennis sure as heck does.
My course of action is doing up the laundry. In between time, I have a historical novel to read in my bedroom porch. To get to my reading spot I need to pass by the ancient glider rocker. My mother and dad had paid $3.50 for it from Montgomery Wards. There was a time long ago that I was told to sit in this rocker and stay there until I was told I could get out. That was about 72 years ago.
At that time we lived one mile west of MN Hwy #15, several miles out of Winthrop. It would have been winter months and it was butchering time. Uncles and aunts made a day out of hog and beef butchering. The cuts of the meat were not as important as it was getting it done, getting it wrapped and divided up. Michael was six months old at this time. Calvin would have been three and could stay out of the way by playing. Michael needed tending. With Michael sitting next to me in the glider rocker with a white dishtowel tying him to the back spindles, it was my job to keep him from wriggling and slipping out of from under the dishtowel. I was told to stay put and not rock hard until such time he could either be put down for a nap or to be fed. No talking. I was as much a prisoner as Michael was.
This rocker has seen hard times. There was a fad of painting furniture and applying a top coat to give it an antiqued look. Hello! Mom had given it a calf shit yellowed look. At one time, Michael as an adult, had sat too far back in it and had broken one of the wooden braces. That spot got a metal rod welded in to get it back up and rocking. I offered mom to strip it down and allow the natural wood to shine through. I think that was in the 80s. The multiple spindles were not easy to strip. In turn the rocker was given to me. In and about 2005, I had Robert Sorenson, here in town, shore up the bottom of the seat. It was a thin veneer of wood. At the time it was new, there was no telling how durable it would be to last decades. The back of the top of the rocker had the same decorative veneer on it that the front had. That was long gone. Here I am all these 70 plus years, still dusting it and still cherishing it. Sweet memories.
Here I am putting myself as a prisoner in my own home, keeping my mouth shut with hands in my pockets to allow those that can to do the work of cutting down the lilacs. Life long lessons still help.