Evelyn

I don’t actually remember her being born. In fact, I don’t even remember my mother being pregnant; but at age three I was too young to even understand that. But as I watched my 4 year old granddaughter, Madelyn, anxiously awaiting the birth of her little sister, I probably was as aware as she was, but I just don’t remember. The earliest recollection I have of Evelyn was when she came home from the hospital. I remember people looking at her and all were wearing masks. I gazed into the bassinet thru the curtain like cover and saw this little baby.

We lived in an Oakland apartment when she was born, but must have moved to San Francisco shortly after that. My next vivid memory of Evelyn was when we lived behind the grocery store. I had climbed into Evelyn’s crib and she was crying. I was trying to comfort her when my mother came in and lifted me out of the crib. I don’t recall her being mad, but I do remember being told I couldn’t get in the crib again.

We moved from the grocery store to the chicken ranch when I was 4 or 5, and Evelyn was three years younger than me. I have good memories for the chicken ranch days and my adventures with my older cousin, Kathy, but I cannot remember anything about Evelyn or Christine. Christine was my cousin, Kathy’s sister, and was about the same age as Evelyn. I guess I don’t remember much about them because at that point they were still babies and I didn’t have much interaction with them – we didn’t run around the chicken ranch together.

Evelyn became a part of my life when we moved to Monroe Street. I turned 6 on the day we moved in, and Evelyn was 3. Her birthday was August 22nd and mine was the 27th, so we were almost exactly 3 years apart. My dad and the other dad’s in the neighborhood helped each other pour patios and build fences. I remember “helping” with ours. Our house faced west, so our backyard was on the east side. Between our house and the Lemus’ house on the south of ours, my Dad built a little play house for us. Evelyn and I would play in that house on and off over the years we lived there. It was our home or our hideout, depending on if I was the father or the Sheriff.

I remember once when Evelyn was in bed asleep that my Mom couldn’t find her among the dolls. She had more dolls that Toy-R-Us. (Except there was no Toys-R-Us in those days.) Her favorite doll was one almost as big as she was and her name was Judy Carol. She dragged that doll everywhere. If we were playing house or going to Capitola, along came Judy Carol. And it wasn’t just Judy, and certainly not only Carol – the name was Judy Carol. She had lots of dolls, but I only remember her playing with her favorite. I am sure when Christine was over they played with them all.

When Henry was born we were at school. Dad came and told us about Henry being born. We didn’t get to go home because Mom’s stayed in the hospital for a few days. And kids certainly couldn’t go into the hospital to see the baby and Mom. The best we could do was go with my Dad to the hospital and he pointed out Mom’s room and we waved at the window. Don’t know if she was really at the window, but we sure thought she was.

Henry was born on November 10, 1955. By the end of 1956 or early in 1957, we were on our way to Dallas. When we first moved in to the house, Evelyn and I had our own rooms. Henry was still small enough to be in Mom and Dad’s room. But a few weeks later, Henry and Evelyn were sharing a room. When the tornado hit, I was with Evelyn in the TV room. Mom grabbed Henry and gathered up Evelyn and me and we sat in the hall until we got the all clear. Evelyn and I thought it was a great adventure.

The summer we spent in Capitola was fun for all of us. Evelyn especially enjoyed being back with her cousin and best friend, Christine. At some time during that summer, Joyce Slider came for a few days from San Jose. We all would go to the beach and the old train station. I noticed that my mother shed a lot of tears that summer as she and Dad were having troubles, but Evelyn seemed to not notice She had fun thru the summer. When summer was over we went back home to Dallas. By the end of the school year we were moving to Southern California. One evening my dad came into my room where Evelyn and I were and told us he was leaving, that he would always love us, but that he and Mom couldn’t live together any more. We cried and cried all night. Then in frustration, Mom ran out the door and took off in her car. No explanation. And we cried more. We had just lost our father and now we seemed to have lost our Mother. We were frightened. We held little Henry, and clinging to each other we cried more. After what seemed a long time, Mom came home. We all cried together. Then, when Evelyn and I were alone we decided that Dad left because she and I fought too much and that he was tired of it. So we pledged that we wouldn’t fight any more. When our Dad came back for some of his things, we told him that he could come home because we weren’t going to fight anymore. He still left and we cried again. It took several days before the tears finally stopped.

We moved back to San Jose and eventually back to the Monroe Street house. Henry had become very sick and began spending much of his time in hospitals. He had been admitted to the Stanford Children’s Hospital at Stanford University. At the same time, Mom had gone to work for Uncle Henry as a waitress in his new restaurant, The Hi-Life. Evelyn and I began spending a lot of time at home alone. We were both a little older at that time. I was 15 and Evelyn 12. One night we were watching television and she kept having to go to the bathroom. So she decided to test her urine with Henry’s test kit. She came up with a high positive reading for sugar in her urine. Mom took her to the doctor and she was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes. She would spend the rest of her life taking insulin shots.

As a teenager she loved life. Our city was growing and new places of business were coming in. One was just down the street - Baskin-Robbins Ice Cream. Evelyn would get and ice cream and then adjust her insulin. She wanted to be a normal teenager and not let her illness slow her down. It may have taken a toll that she would pay later with her life.

Evelyn was a talented pianist. She had taken piano for years and years. I took piano lessons for a while and all I could ever play was a simplified version of Suwannee River, but she could play the Bumble Boogie – by memory! The only other pianist I have ever known with that much talent is my daughter, Holly. Once at a Saturday Night Dance, Evelyn found a piano in one of the rooms of the Stake Center. She started playing Bumble Boogie and soon had a crowd cheering her on. She really got into the music and put out a lot of energy. When she was done, she looked at me and put out her hand. I always carried a candy bar in my coat pocket for her in case her sugar levels were low – and The Bumble Boogie took it all out of her.

When I received my Mission Call, Evelyn was my biggest fan. She followed me around like a puppy. I was leaving home and perhaps she was having difficulty with that given our history of family leaving. She followed me around like a puppy. I started calling her Arf and when she sent letters to me on my mission she put “Arf” in the return address. She was faithful in writing me. One letter she told me she was engaged to Tom Patterson, but wouldn’t be getting married until I got home. When I got home, so did Scott Smith and now she had a dilemma – she was engaged to Tom, but Scott had been the love of her life and her childhood sweetheart. She came to me for advice. I told her that it was the rest of her life and eternity she was facing and that she needed to face that with the one she really loved. In the end, she broke up with Tom and married Scott.

Evelyn and Scott were married in 1969, while I was in Vietnam. Scott was going to be going to dental school and was accepted to school in Saint Louis. After I was stationed in Hawaii we were assigned to Fort Rucker in May 1973. We rented a mobile home until we could move into quarters. Evelyn and Scott came down for Thanksgiving. Now, I need to tell a story here for the reader to understand what happened here.

After I returned home from my Mission, Mom, Evelyn and I spent a few days in Capitola. While there, Evelyn injured her left foot. When we got home, classes were starting at San Jose State, where she went to school. Evelyn had bought a car, a 1950 Pontiac – and it was a boat! It was a big and heavy car that had a standard transmission. I was using Mom’s car, which was an automatic. Evelyn asked if we could trade cars for the day because it hurt her foot to use the clutch. So we traded. I was going to go to Aunt Jean’s for lunch, so I drove off. I got three blocks from and I see the flashing lights in my rear view mirror. The Officer asks for my driver’s license. I reached for my wallet, and nothing. I had left my wallet in the other car. The officer tells me the reason he stopped me was for excessive smoke and out of date registration. He also informed me that since I had no identification he could take me in if I matched the description of anyone wanted by the police. I told him that I had just returned from my mission and that this was my sister’s car, that she had mine because of her foot. He issued me two warnings: one for the excessive smoke and out of date registration, and one for no driver license. I could show any officer my license and get them to sign the back of the ticket and then turn the ticket in and that would be okay. I had 15 days to get the repairs done or show proof that the car had been disposed of.

It is now a year or so later and I am married and living in Southern California. I had to fly up to San Jose to take care of some business and I borrowed Evelyn’s car again. This time she had a later model Mercury Meteor. I am about 6 blocks from home and I get stopped again. This time it is for safety violations on the car. I had to start laughing and told the officer I had driven my sister’s cars only twice and both times I have been stopped to problems with the car. She had driven both cars forever, had gotten parking tickets at college, and never was ticketed for safety violations or out of date registration.

Now, we are in Alabama. Evelyn and Scott came down for Thanksgiving driving their little Volkswagen Bug. Scott and I were sent to the store by Jannie and Evelyn. Since I had never in my life driven a Bug, I asked Scott if I could drive. He tossed me the keys and off we went. During the drive to the store I mentioned to Scott that I noticed that they had California plates on the VW, and I thought they had bought the car in Missouri. He said they did, but they couldn’t afford to renew the license plates, so he took the plates off their old car because they were still valid in California. I stopped the car and made Scott drive. Three for three. I never drove another of my sister’s cars again.

We visited Evelyn and Scott once while they were in St. Louis with Scott in dental school. We were on our way to Fort Rucker and stopped to visit for a few days. They lived in a mobile home, but were house sitting for a family in their Ward. We visited them at that house. One evening Evelyn wanted Scott to bar-be-que some steaks on the grill. He measured the stakes and figured out exactly how many briquettes he would need to cover the area of the steaks. The fire never got hot, so she had me take over and teach him to bar-be-que. One Christmas they came to visit us at Fort Rucker. The trip was planned around my Mother’s arrival. They had only little Benjamin and we had a good visit. Benjamin was born after Brett, but before Todd. The boys were very young. Brett was 3. That would be the last time I would spend time with my sister while she was alive.

In June 1981 I had just returned home from a TDY trip to Oklahoma City. The night I got home I received a call from my mother telling me that Evelyn was not expected to live more than a couple of days. She had suffered complete kidney failure some months earlier and was on dialysis. The dialysis was taking its toll on her ability to recover from anything. Then one day she cut her foot. She was so run down that her foot did not heal and she had to be admitted to the hospital. I learned later that she had been in and out of the hospital often in those final days. I flew out to Sacramento and was met by Mom and Aunt June. We drove straight to the hospital in Chico. Between the time of the frantic phone call and my arrival in Sacramento a mere 24 hours later, she had had three amputations…part of her foot, then her entire foot, then just below the knee. Gangrene had set in and was nearly impossible to stop. Three amputations in just a few hours would be difficult for a healthy person to under go. When I arrived she was in a coma. She came out of it briefly. She knew I was there. Then she drifted back. She passed away a few hours later.

She was buried in the cemetery in Chico. The funeral service was attended by many, many people, including both Mom and Dad. Difficult as it was, I spoke at her funeral. Her father-in-law quoted from a play, My Turn on Earth. He said that Evelyn had had her turn on Earth. I recalled the younger years of the Fish Club and that she was Starfish. She was a “star” in all she did. I miss my sister and hardly a day goes by that I don’t at least briefly think of her. One day we will meet again and Arf and her big brother, together again.

A FIRE IN THE PASTURE 2007

A Fire in the Pasture 2007

Traditions in our family die hard, but even more, we develop traditions very quickly. Cornish game hens will always be served on Christmas Eve, but our Thanksgiving tradition is new and will last a long time. As a kid, my Thanksgiving was at the Capitola House. That tradition lasted until all the kids were gone. Our tradition is now going to Heidi and Shawn’s farm in Arkansas. Hopefully each of these trips in the future will give me things to write about – more fires in the pastures of our lives.

Shots rang out from the woods. Cell phones began sending texts. “Was that you?” “Did you shoot a deer?” No deer. Not yet. The boys are out hunting, spurred on by Shawn’s 8 point buck shot on opening day. Then just two days later, 12 year old Lauren shot a three point and “buck fever” had its grip on the boys. Thanksgiving was just too far away, but soon it was here and the family’s third annual migration from the south and the east begins. Once again Mom and Dad, 6 kids, 5 spouses and 13 grandchildren descend upon the farm in Arkansas. Add that to Heidi and Shawn and their 7 kids, and you have more than a houseful. Oh, and did I mention the dogs?

How do you keep 8 boys entertained for hours on end without electronics? Build a fire in the pasture. Pap-paw Miller did just that the morning we all arrived. And from then on, from the early frosty mornings to well after dark in the chilly evenings, the fire is stoked, stirred and fed by the boys, and an occasional girl cousin. As I look out the glass door as I write, I can see two boys adding wood and stirring the embers. As an adult I fondly remember playing in the sand and the waves in Capitola; these boys will always have a fire burning in their memories, the fire in the pasture on the Thanksgivings of their youth.

The girls do all the things little girls do. Dressing up as cheerleaders and gymnasts, they rehearse most of the day for their evening performance. . In the evening they put on a show in the living room, showing off the routines they choreographed and practiced all through the day. Much like the shows my cousins put on every year, requiring me to sing a rendition of Sixteen Tons. And the babies – they spend hours toting babies and playing with them, freeing up their mothers to do more important things, like baking pies! Of course, the girls are attracted by the fire as well and every so often you look out the window and see them watching the boys and giving advice on how the make the fire better, which the boys naturally, and promptly, ignore.

Of course, there are the games of Scrabble, Up Words and Trivial Pursuit that are ever present and seemingly always in progress. “I AM THE CHAMPION, MY FRIEND,” the winner sings out at the top of her lungs, or arms fly up in the touchdown symbol as a winner of Trivial Pursuit rubs it in to the loser. Memories we will have forever.

And the food! Turkey, turkey and more turkey! Fried turkey, smoked turkey and roasted turkey. And ham! Homemade rolls, Mimi’s dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, sweet potato something with pecans on top, ambrosia salads, and olives! And much more food than I can remember, and more than I could eat! And desserts! The pies – apple, cherry, pumpkin and pecan – and the pumpkin cake! And tons of whipped cream to put on all of it. What a feast! With lots of people to eat it! All of us and all of Shawn’s family! I lost count at 30, but in the end, a lot of food was eaten and lots of stories told. Then, round 2: the evening meal. And we ate more turkey! Turkey sandwiches were the fare of the evening! And of course, the pie! And then breakfast in the morning – and more pie! And then all the pies were gone and everyone well filled. And we survived Thanksgiving once again … and already looking forward to next year!

Once again it is early morning and the boys head to the woods to hunt deer. “We need to shoot a deer.” “Heck, we just need to see a deer!” “I’d even settle for a squirrel!” Brett settled for a squirrel and shot it with his cannon, not a trace of that squirrel was left! Then Chad comes into the house, too early to be home from hunting. “Why are you home?” he is asked. “I GOT A DEER!” He is almost too excited for words. He shot a large doe and he and the boys went out and retrieved it. With the deer hung in the tree, Chad began the task of skinning and quartering his prize. A task he had never before done. He had help and “got ‘er done”. His, the only deer shot the entire weekend. All the hunters in their new cammos; and Chad in blue sweat pants and a brown jacket…got the only deer. His first deer – priceless.

Miller’s Pond doesn’t exactly bring images of Huck Finn or Pirates of the Caribbean, but to the imaginations of 9 and 11 year old boys, it is high adventure! A farm pond out the back door of Heidi’s house with a row boat and it doesn’t get any better than that! The boys pulled the boat off the shore, climbed in; they paddled all around the pond. I remember the row boats in the Capitola River and have the same fond memories of my adventures that these three boys will have with theirs. I was fortunate enough to be -outside when the boat was launched and went down to the waters edge and took pictures and gave words of encouragement to the boys as they crossed the pond. What a memory!

As kids, we dreamed of the go-carts we would never ride. What adventures we had on our imaginary motorized wheels. This year it was go-carts in the pasture. During the summer, Heidi acquired a go-cart and it was a nice one. The older boys and girls tore around the pasture at “break-neck” speeds. “Grandpa, I can’t wait until Nathan gets here so I can take him on the go-cart” Tyler said to me as he was taking a pit stop. And the little kids all got rides, too; the older ones driving them all over. Then the dare-devil took over and down to Miller’s Pond! What fun darting around the pond. Then they hit the soft mud and, “STUCK!” someone cried. The boys and Rebekah pushed and pulled, being cheered on by a couple of the little girls. Finally, free at last and the adventure could continue….all they had to do was start the motor. “Try and try again” seemed to be the tactic, but it just wouldn’t start. I had seen their predicament and wandered down by the pond to see what assistance I could provide. “Grandpa, it just won’t start. I have the choke on full, but it just sputters”, Tyler told me, his eyes knowing that Grandpa would have the remedy. “Close the choke”, I said. I then gave a good pull on the rope and the engine jumped to life. “Thanks, Grandpa,” Rebekah and Tyler shouted as they jumped into the cart. They accelerated, but they were still stuck. Pulling and pushing a little more and they were soon free of the mire. As I walked back to the yard, I looked back to see them at full speed on the levee of the pond. Then back up into the pasture; and the rest of the afternoon I could hear the tell tale hum of the Briggs and Stratton and laughter in the air.

Laughter. What a joy it is to hear it. Especially the laughter of children. Whether it was in the house or in the yard, there were lots of young laughs filling the air. The house isn’t that big and you could easily tell when there are 15 adults and 20 children under one roof. Conversation went on, games were being played, tales of deer shot, missed, and unseen filled the air. But above it all – laughter. Kids having the time of their lives. I believe that there was not a cross word spoken the entire weekend between cousins and siblings, or between anyone for that matter. Just fun and laughter! And nothing is sweeter than the sound of laughing children.

It’s Friday; it’s the last day for some of us. Tomorrow some will be going home and back to the grind of daily living….BUT today; we have today! And tonight is the bon fire! All weekend the fire in the pasture has been stoked and stirred by the boys. Now another fire. The fire pit is in the yard and Uncle Shawn has been preparing for it. Logs are stacked and kindling is placed so it will ignite the logs. Benches surround the fire pit. All is ready. Inside preparations are made for the weenie roast. Packages of hot dogs are opened and dogs put in a big bowl. Chips of every kind abound. Chili is heated and cheese grated. And mounds of olives! We sure do love the olives! Weenie forks are ready and now it is time. We ask for a blessing on the food and for safety in our activities of the evening. Kids grab the forks and skewer the weenies and head to the fire. Everyone else follows. Weenies of every degree of doneness are brought in for buns, ketchup and mustard. And many are topped with chili. In a manner of a few minutes, the dogs are gone, the buns are gone and everyone is stuffed. Then S’mores! Chocolate covered graham crackers with a toasted marshmallow smashed between. Mothers worry about the nutritional value – but this is a weenie roast! We can eat greens tomorrow. We made dinner and made memories … memories that will well up in the minds of these little ones many years down the road.

Saturday it rained. And it rained. And it rained. The fires went out, except in conversation and memories. The burning of buck fever also was doused by the rain. Brett felt like he was coming down with a cold and they quickly packed and left for home. Heather and Shawn planned to leave at about one o’clock … as soon as her car got out of the shop. The kids were quickly gathering their things and getting ready to pack cars. Then, it was time. Hugs and kisses and then the kids and dogs were gone. But not all the kids. Still, there would be plenty for fun. The kids had to entertain themselves in the house. The moms, along with Lauren, all went to lunch in Texarkana. So the dads and grandpa were here. I was apprehensive about all these kids with no place to let out their energy, but they were great. Laughing and playing with each other all afternoon. Dinner was tacos and the house was alive with kids talking and eating. Then pajamas and the house quieted down for the night.

If there ever was an ideal family gathering, this was it. We don’t know what the future will bring, but we will always have the memories of this Thanksgiving on a small farm in Southwestern Arkansas. We will always remember the fire in the pasture.