Friends, Pals, Eggs, and Shells

Quite a pair, these two. I've been thinking of this blog for some time now, though my time is limited right now. Many things to see to today. Spending the day with Tristan, have flower baskets to prepare for Memorial day, laundry, and so on. Today Tristan and I will spend some time in the park....
To the thoughts that accompany this particular picture...

I don't remember a time when my mom and dad were together. They separated and divorced soon after my second birthday. Dad quit his job, let our house go, and moved home to his mom and dad's house. They had a very small house. That would have been in the spring time of 1952. Before Christmas of that year we had move to Albert Lea, Minnesota, dad had a new wife and I had a new baby sister. I have some vague memories of this. I remember being afraid. I'm not always sure of what. Just that I was afraid. I also remember something of life with Grampa and Grandma Crum.
We moved back to Nora Springs, Iowa maybe in the spring of 1954. I remember more of this time, and what I remember is not always nice....

I remember:

Sitting on the kitchen floor cutting pictures out of a magazine. The scissors did'nt work to well and I gave them a toss expressing myuself with a word or two I'd heard my dad use to describe his frustrations when he was in the garage working on a car. Next thing I know I'm being yanked up off the floor and a bar of LAVA soap shoved in my mouth while he is shouthing at me about swearing. Holding my jaw with one hand and the top of my head with the other he made sure I got a good chew....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I'm not even sure of what I did. I think I did something wrong at somebody's house. We were in the kitchen I think... I was being held up against the wall off the floor while a very angry face was shouting up into mine...friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I was probably in Kindergarten. I rode a bus to school all day every other day. I think it must have been getting close to the time for the bus and I hadn't yet had breakfast. I opened the door to the garage where mom was helping dad work on the car. I asked about breakfast. A wrench came flying across the garage and bounced off the door as I closed it behind me. Sure wish I'd made my own breakfast....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I don't really know what set this off. Maybe I did something to his hatchet. I don't really remember as this happened a half century ago. I was being dragged by the arm across the yard to the block of wood he used to slaughter chickens. I had watched what he did to chickens there. He was screaming at me as I was dragged while he waved that hatchet at me. "I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget". Mom came running out of the house yelling at him, asking what the hell he thought he was doing....friends, pals, eggs, and shells.

I remember:

I really loved my dad. When things were good we had this rhyme we used to say to each other...friends, pals, eggs, and shells. Meaning we were friends and pals. Meaning we went together like eggs and shells.

If I could just quit being bad he wouldn't have to be mean to me anymore.

I believed this up until the last few years. This distance between us, he rarely, if ever, calls me. He rarely accepts an invitation to my house. He never invites me to his. I believed this estrangement was as result of my poor choices and bad behavior. I was an embarrassment. I believed this until Roxanne pulled me out of what he and Ann were pulling me into by telling me I am a wonderful husband, a damn fine stepdad, and my grandsons think the world of me. My co-workers respect me and the congregation of the First United Methodist Church are convinced I am the best custodian they've ever had. The problem is dad, not me.

Friends, pals, eggs, and shells INDEED!!