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First Wedding (not mine)
I was all dolled up for my Aunt Mary's wedding. I was her ring bearer. She used to call me "treensy." I don't remember much about the wedding except that it was held at a large Episcopal church in town. I was better behaved than the ring bearer at the wedding where my Uncle Frank was best man. That little boy didn't want to be a ring bearer so his Mommy showed him a dime. She told him that it would be his if he went through with the wedding. She had him watch her as she sewed the dime into the little pillow for the ring. After he marched down the aisle my Uncle Frank had to retrieve the ring from him. But the boy thought Uncle Frank was trying to steal his dime so he took off running down the aisle. My Uncle had to chase him down so the wedding could proceed. My Uncle wasn't a very good sport about it. He was even a worse sport about his own wedding but that's another story. This is the rocking chair that one of my baby sitters broke about this time. She was very overweight. She babysat us during the time when my Mom had back surgery. This is the only time I remember my Dad "cooking" for me. He made pea soup. I really liked it (but then I liked the taste of ant abdomen) His pea soup consisted of a can of peas, milk and salt. My Dad was a really pathetic cook. When I got to college years later I learned how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. I felt very accomplished and I often made them for my Dad. One day he asked me for one and I promised to do it after I finished some task. I didn't get right to it. After a while he asked for a grilled cheese again but when I put him off he grumbled that he'd do it himself. That was fine with me. A few minutes later I walked into the kitchen and found him tending to a smoking slice of toast swimming in stick of bubbling margarine over a red hot electric stove. He still hadn't added the cheese. The smell of burning fat and charred bread wafted into the air. I told Dad that I'd finish finish cooking it for him. I threw the mess down the garbage disposal and started over. This picture would have been taken at the apartment we lived in just outside of the Topeka City Limits. There were barns by our apartment which are still standing. This is the location of the story I talked my Mom into illustrating for me. I could never figure out how to end it in a politically correct way so we never finished it. |
