Tales of Uncle Ernest – (Continued) "The Boat"

Tales of Uncle Ernest – (Continued)

Section 2, “The Boat” – Chapter 2

Now, you know, Nina, mentioning my Granny reminds me of something that happened one ice-cold day in January, 1944. Granny was babysitting me and my little brother here in the farm house. I was not behaving for her at all. I don’t remember what I was doing wrong, but I recall Granny’s warning: “Bobby, if you don’t behave yourself I’m going to go out and cut a switch and go aboard you with it.”

After several such warnings, she took a paring knife, walked out to the lilac bush, and started cutting a switch. I can still see her out there, pulling the thin branch down, holding it with her left hand, and sawing on it with the knife. It was cold. It was so cold that two-foot icicles hung from the shed roof, and one even extended from the roof into the frozen-solid rain barrel.

I remember standing tip-toed, peering through the pane of our shed door. The door’s still there, Nina. Take a look when you get a chance. Then Granny started heading back towards the house, switch in hand, with a determined look on her face. She had expected to have been outside for only three or four minutes, so she had no coat on, just her apron. Well, I looked out at Granny and that switch, and just as she got to the steps I pushed the bolt through the latch in the door, locking her out.

I ran into the living room but could still hear her knocking on the door and calling, “Boy, you let me in there; you hear?” I heard but I sure didn’t open that door. “Now listen,” she shouted. “I won’t switch you. Now you open that door!” She checked out the front door but it too was locked. She pleaded for a while and then gave up. Then I saw her walking down our frozen lane towards Annie Boyko’s house.

I cooled my heels for about fifteen minutes until I heard Granny and Annie begging me to open the door. So I went out and unlatched the bolt. They came in and sat by the kitchen wood stove. Annie Boyko then went on home after gabbing for a while. Granny then trudged up the stairs to her room, not saying one word to me. Now, Nina, isn’t that an awful thing to do to your Granny? I still feel bad about it till this day.

I was one spoiled, ornery kid, and I don’t remember if it was the evening after I locked Granny out or an evening after I had done some other awful thing that the following incident happened. It may have been the evening after I had tied my little brother to a tree and left him for an hour that it happened. Or, maybe, it was the evening after I had hurt him in some other way.

Whatever it was, I remember how furious my mother and Grandmother were. They were extremely angry with me. They kept yelling, “You just wait, young man, until your father comes home; he’ll whip you within an inch of your life.” Granny was especially disgusted with me, crying out, “I just don’t know what to think of such a nasty rascal.” My mother cried, “The very idea! Your father will be home soon. You just wait.”

Well, Nina, when I saw Pop’s car rolling up the lane, I ran upstairs and lay stretched across my bed, sobbing to beat the band. Then all three of them came up the stairs, and I could hear their animated chatter in the hall. Then they came into my room. Pop didn’t say a word, but Mom and Granny were both talking at once. I started crying as Pop stood there, belt in hand, glaring down at me.

Then he came at me and in a flash my mother was next to me. She put her arm around me, looked up at Pop and screamed, “You’re not going to hurt him; you’re not.” Almost at the same time, Granny lunged in front of her son, grabbing the belt as she said, “Now, Ralph, you leave him alone. He’s suffered enough; leave him be; you hear?” Pop then stomped out of the room as Mom and Granny comforted me. As I sobbed softly, Granny stroked my head and whispered, “You rest yourself now, Bobby. When you’re feeling better, you come on down and get your supper.” So, Nina, from this you can see the kind of tough domestic life I had; somehow I survived it though. Speaking of survival, let me tell you a few more things about my adventurous Uncle Ernest. [To be continued Friday, 1/17/2012]