Tuesday, March 5, 2024 Grandpa Red’s Story

My Grandpa Red was born in April of 1898. By the time I knew him, he was in his 60’s with graying hair that only gave a hint of once being auburn, and a face that had seen a lot of weather. He passed away in 1973 and it wasn’t until many years later that I came across this story he wrote about an incident from his youth. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

The sounds of mother getting breakfast ready always awakened me and I used to go outside to enjoy the dawn with its thousands of bird calls. The sun came up like a huge egg yolk popping over the horizon and heralding a new adventure. Father was away with our team working on the road which made it necessary for our neighbors, the Dickmans, to come over with their team and move us.

It was customary in those days to use a hay rack for moving because it had a spacious platform and all of the household goods could be taken in one load. When Mrs. Dickman arrived with their old, flea-bitten grays pulling the hay rack, she explained that Mr. Dickman was sick abed. I knew she would want to go in and talk to mother, so I climbed on top to hold the team. Mrs. Dickman proceeded to get down to the ground over the back of the rack.

When hauling hay, a long pole was used as a binder to keep the hay from blowing away or falling off. This pole was lying on the bottom of the rack and protruded past the back of the wagon about six feet. In sliding down, Mrs. Dickman’s skirt got caught on one of those poles and it was pulled right up over her head. She was completely helpless now because her arms and head were entirely covered by the skirt. Mrs. Dickman wasn’t very tall so her toes didn’t quite reach the ground. When I saw the predicament she was in, I tied the reins to the standard and went back to give her some assistance.

Right here I want to mention that, for being a woman past the half century mark, she hadn’t lost any of her allure. When I got there, she was saying something but with her head confined it was just a mumble. I jumped down and put my left arm around her and my shoulder where it would do the most good. Then I straightened up, unhooked her skirt, and then lowered her to the ground. When she had her skirt in place and stood facing me, I wanted to laugh, but managed to keep my face straight and serious. At first her face was red as a beet, but when she finally got her composure, she said, “Well, that was the first shot,” as if to say that before the day was over, there would be more.

Oh yes, the kind of flour the Dickmans used was plain to be seen because across the back of her underwear were the words “EVENTUALLY, WHY NOT NOW?”

I’ll eventually delete this…why not now?