LELA FAYE FUNK MORGAN NIGHTINGALE

SUMMER AND IT MUST BE POTATO SALAD TIME

It was going to be another hot summer day. It was between the times; school had been out long enough that we no longer thought about classmates and what they might be doing, and; still lots of time left before even the tiniest thought about fall and the next school year entered our heads. Just the three of us and Lela was in charge. Of course, we would not really be left alone if Mom didn't think each one of us could take care of ourselves. The rules were clear and heard often enough. So, here it was, middle summer and Lela, Mark and I had the whole day to do as we pleased. On this particular day, Lela was cooking. Making Mom's famous and incredibly delicious potato salad. We all have favorite dishes that "Mom" makes, yet this dish was true to my description. All of us proudly took Mom's potato salad to school, church, or other social functions. It was the first dish sought out and quickly disappeared before all others. No lie, just a fact.

I'm sure it was mid-morning since I do not remember the day being super hot at this time. Lela had taken the cooled firm potatoes from the pot, cubed them. All ingredients needing chopping were sitting nearby. It was now time to mix the sauce before joining all three containers into one. Mark and Lela were having a discussion and I was sitting at the kitchen table. As in all homes the kitchen is the heart and draws all to its welcoming center. In the old house, the original kitchen was dreadful and Dad remodeled it for Mom. To our young selves, it was incredible and beautiful. The walls a bright, inviting yellow. A corner window with the sink in the center. Off to the right of the sink were cabinets followed by the gas stove followed by the refrigerator. A small empty area was next before the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Old newspapers were on the floor here for the pet food dishes. Back to the kitchen sink, the wall to the left (it was a rectangle shaped room) held more counter and cabinets. The back door was on this wall. Our kitchen table was golden walnut and with matching chairs that had green vinyl seats. I'm sure the seats were replaced a few times over the years, though I always remember them being green.

The table was not an original of Dad's, however it was refinished by him and in later years by Mark. That table could tell stories and at another time I will tell one about Mark. This is Lela's series of summer stories. The table was in the center of the room. It was not a large room, with the focal point being the table, not too many steps were needed to reach from counter to table, stove to table, sink or refrigerator to table. I wish I could recall the funny story that set us off that morning. Lela stepped to the 'fridge' to grab the Best Foods Mayonnaise. As she pivoted around to put the jar on the table, Mark rose from his chair, and before I could yell, "look out!", contact was made. Mark's head collided with the mayonnaise jar. In slow motion, the loud smack of head and glass could be heard as six eyes turned upward to watch the jar smash into the ceiling. Shattering shards of glass scattered everywhere. White mounds of mayo flew in all directions and struck, stuck, and left white slashes on every thing. Between the instant shock of the scene, Mark's bleeding skull, we stood silently. Only for a moment. Looking about we fervently wished Mom was home. Just to hear her comfort us and say it was only an accident. And, more importantly, tell us to gingerly step out of the kitchen (we were always barefoot in summer) so as to not cut our feet. Then she would clean the mess.

Lela was in charge and that day she ruled. First commanding everyone stand still and then after looking at the top of Mark's head and determining it could wait a couple minutes, she proceeded to lay out the game plan. She would get the broom and sweep the glass and mayonnaise globs into a pile. Once that was completed, she had Mark sit on the step stool and washed his head and examined the cut closer. Fortunately, it was only a surface cut and not very deep. It had already quit bleeding. Next, she helped him off with his T-shirt to keep the broken shards of glass and white mayo splots inside. Okay he was now down to his shorts...his overies not his undies...that would be just too silly for us to do in front of each other. At least at the ages we were then. I'm guessing Lela was probably around 12 which would mean Mark was around 10 and I am around 7. Cuz when we were much younger, bathing in the laundry trays on the back porch or splashing in the creek in our birthday suits would not be a big deal. Now, however, Lela & Mark were big people and much more self-conscious of their bodies.

Anyway, Lela sent Mark to the shower. I was around on the other side of the table and did not get much, if any, of the mayo on me. After Mark was out of the room, Lela finished sweeping the floor. When Mark returned, we all picked up glass from the counter tops, stove, sink and then began washing. It was a big, big chore. I cannot say we were having 'fun' yet. All the cupboards and walls had to be washed. All the fixin's and potatoes had to be tossed. Lela orchestrated us well and the mess disappeared in a couple hours. I really do not know if Lela started over making another potato salad, though knowing her, she did. And, I'm sure she washed clothes to removed any shards of glass and remaining mayonnaise marks. By lunch time Mark and I were off doing important things, I'm sure.

Lela had dinner going before Mom and Dad came home from work. Mom usually arrived around 1740 and Dad around 1800 or 1830. He would work on projects in his shop until called for dinner. One of us kids would be the dinner bell, as in, "go tell your Dad dinner is ready." We are in our usual places at the table. Dad at the head and Mark opposite. Mom on the side near the stove and refrigerator; Lela and I on the other. Lela sitting nearest Mark and I nearest Dad...just in case I needed help. Conversation was the usual regarding work; what we did that day; were the cows fed and milked; chickens fed; weeds pulled in the garden? All pleasant and ordinary..........until.

Until Dad stopped speaking in mid-sentence and his eyes shifted upward. The three of us followed his gaze and our eyes widened even more. Mom saw the exchange and followed our sight line. Silence. Briefly. Very briefly. Then thunderous, yes, thunderous is the best descriptive word for the sound bursting from we three. Thunderous laughter. Uproarious laughter. Contagious laughter. You know the kind. Mom & Dad were heartily laughing along with us. Tears coursing down our cheeks. Laughing so hard we could not catch our breath to explain the large gob of white on the kitchen ceiling. Once we started to regain ourselves, gasping between deep gut-bursting gushes of giggles, the story was told. Rules are rules. Outrageous behavior at the table is not allowed. All things in moderation. Laughter is welcome. Uncontrolled is not. Since it seemed apparent we three could not regain our decorum, we were banished to the back porch steps. Now, this is not real punishment. Mom felt meals and nutrition were essential, so we took our plates with us. We were never told to be quiet or stop laughing, only, leave the table. So, you understand, we were not in trouble for the flying mayonnaise as that was an accident and almost all of it cleaned up.
mj

CHOCOLATE PUDDING IN THE SUMMERTIME

It was finally feeling like the good old summer time. Sounds like a song. Actually, today we asked, as we had every day, that age old question. "Is it time, yet?" No, not are we there yet? Cuz, we are there...at home. Hot days and nights are here for good. On this day, the parents gave thumbs up, a clear 'yes'; good to go...and outside we go! It is a 'yippee' moment every summer.

We were still in the old house and I am not sure if Mom & Dad were even talking about the new home yet. The old one was in a 'U' shape with a huge walnut tree growing in the 'U' section. This was the front of the house and some summers there was a double bed out there near the tree. This is where Mom and Dad slept. Across the back of the house was a screened enclosed porch. The wringer washer, standard washer and dryer, laundry tubs and another double bed were here. On one end was the screen door which made the usual slam bang when we quickly passed through. As I said, we received the 'yes' response and delightedly headed to the brooder house. Here we would find old army cots. It didn't take long to shake off the dust from the heavy, green canvas bags and unload the contents. Placing the wooden pieces in order we quickly snapped the legs into place. The army green canvas unfolded and the cot was now ready to have the end pieces attached. Once they are installed, the cot is pulled into a tight, flat alignment. Now, where to put them? Sometimes we just had them outside in the back yard, though most years we put them in the orchard.

We had pear and walnut trees in the back field. This was a perfect setting to put our cots, sleeping bags, lanterns, and other 'important' treasures we each felt was necessary to have for our comfort. We were allowed to sleep out in the orchard for a few weeks until it was time to harvest. Pears came first, and we had to remove our stuff when the crew came in to pick the pears. In fact, we had to heed the very clear rules about crossing the bridge to the orchard. As in, Do Not cross! There were two reasons. One, get out of the way of the workers, naturally. And, two, for safety. The pickers were also advised not to cross the bridge to the home side. The creek was the dividing mark. We had irrigation ditches along the tree rows and it was so much fun to slosh barefooted through the ditch. Of course Dad and the orchard manager had differing opinions. More than once we were scooted out of the orchard and directed back across the bridge. Again, that was only during the harvest weeks.

We didn't mind moving and we did not always place our cots with each other. Usually summer brought cousins, friends and other kids to camp on our little farm. Remember the Rules that were stated clearly and often, if necessary? A basic day would start with breakfast and then outside we would go; repeated with lunch and then dinner. Unless you were at Grandma Marshall's home. Then it was breakfast, supper and dinner. Chores were mixed in also and it was our individual responsibility to get them done. Once we were old enough to no longer need care, Mom went to work. On our own, we followed the rules and still had oodles of hours to play as we wished. We are thankful for the manner our parents raised us. In one way, you might think we were kicked out of the house to stay out of Mom's way. True, we could have gotten into some serious mishaps and it would not be known until one of us reported it. The true gift given with our 'freedom' was creativity. We did not have many toys from the store and electric/techno gadgets were years away. What we did have was Dad's shop. In many of his bins we found nails, nuts & bolts, screws and other doodads. A piece of wood, nails around the top outside edges and those wrapped with twine made a fine barge. We would build a pulley system across the creek and load plastic animals on our little barge and transport them across to holding pens and custom built farms. We would make all kinds of things. Dad cut a 55 gallon drum in half and welded the two halves side by side. Attached through the center would be a large hand held type beater; like the ones used for mixing ingredients by hand...only much larger. With a board attached about a quarter of the way in from the end, one could sit on the board seat, bend forward and use the hand crank beater to propel the makeshift boat forward. Cool! Thanks, Dad. Of course, after a bit this slow mode became boring, so once again we made a larger pulley system to move ourselves along the creek. This leads to more memories, however, I will leave this area right now and get back to sleeping out doors in the summer time.

As memory serves me, this summer Lela did not want to sleep outside under the trees. She was growing up and found insects and other creepy crawlies annoying to a young lady. She decided to use the bed on the back porch. The one with the rounded chocolate brown metal headboard. Since we shared a room together, you would think by summer she had her fill of my company. We were not likely roommates. More like the 'Odd Couple'. Lela wanted everything in its place and spotless. My side of the room was messy and comfortably disorganized. With summer here and the living was out doors, I still enjoyed the cot and sleeping bag. I also didn't mind picking out a spot to be by myself. Yet, Lela did not like being alone, even on the back porch. With little persuasion, I joined her on the porch. We told stories. Lots of creative stories. I wish I could remember some of them. A lot were about the people living on stars and on the moon. The man in the moon was not alone. As we became drowsy and drifting off to the land of nod, we discovered a need. Everyone has a moment just before dropping into sound sleep of a need. Sometimes it might be the, "I should have gone to the bathroom before getting in bed"; or, "I forgot to say my prayers"; or, "I left my book in the other room and I will not have anything to read when I wake in the morning." Some of these were true at times, however, we shared a sisterly bond for one thing every night. We wanted chocolate pudding. That was not possible unless one of us made pudding during the day. This summer took place back in the olden days, we had both luxuries....preparing pudding by cooking or using instant pudding mix. The little prepared pudding cups you get in the grocery were a few decades away. (I have the pudding dishes we used back then when a serving size was between a quarter or half cup.) Anyway, when making the pudding it likely yielded six servings. Fortunately we usually made two boxes in order to have lots of pudding servings and leftovers. Lela and I might add to our 'forgot' list the matter of sneaking a couple dishes of pudding to the back porch. Did I mention we had an old refrigerator on the back porch? Ah, yes, just the place to put the dishes of pudding, we both agreed. Also on the do not forget list was spoons. Lela was quite clever in this regard. Do not leave spoons in the fridge, it just might give someone else the idea of an easy-to-grab late night snack. Thusly, chocolate pudding in bed sometimes was a reality. And the headboard? Well, it really was metal and swirling colors of chocolate brown. When telling stories each night, they all concluded by reaching our hands over our head to grab some chocolate pudding; whether real or imagined. The first time Lela scooped imaginary pudding from the headboard to serve us and our friends on the stars, we burst into little girl giggles.

Summer time and the livin' is easy. Summer time and two little girls in printed pj's snuggle under cool, white crisp sheets. Summer time and the stories are silly and fun. Summer time in the chocolate pudding bed.
mj

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SUMMER AT THE BEACH