The Good Old Days, Part Two
By Betty Lee Speckels, East Sierra Branch
When I was about eight my parents moved to a larger farm. Mother had many chickens and she sold the eggs in town each week. One morning as she made a tour of the hen house she discovered there were a lot of eggs to be collected. Mother usually wore a large apron over her dress and she would collect the eggs in the apron. On that morning she didn’t have on an apron, but since she was wearing one of the popular circle skirts, she just lifted her skirt and gathered the eggs in it.
With all the noise the chickens and my brother and me were making, Mother hadn’t heard the milkman drive up to collect the cans of milk. Mother was halfway back to the house when she became aware of the milkman starting at a very good view of her legs. She found herself in a rather awkward situation. She couldn’t’ drop her skirt or walk fast for fear of breaking the eggs. Mother was a very attractive but modest woman. Her face turned a rosy pink but with her head held high she continued her careful walk to the house. After reaching the safety of the house, she snorted, “He certainly had his nerve. You’d think he had never seen legs before.”
Another time, my two older brothers went through a stage in their pre-teens when they wanted to be cowboys. Since we didn’t have any horses at that time, they would run the good-sized calves into the barn lot and use them for horses. When Dad discovered what they were doing he put a stop to it. He admonished them by saying they were too heavy and would injure the calves’ backs.
Everything went well for a while until a neighbor boy came to visit. My eleven-year-old brother decided to show how well he could ride. Since he knew better than to use the young calves, he proceeded to get on a yearling. This animal had not been ridden before and didn’t take to it too kindly. It began bucking as my brother clung to its back. Down the lane they went and finally with one big lurch my brother went flying right onto a barbed wire fence. It took twelve stitches to sew up his leg and his “rodeo” days were over forever.
As yes, those were the good old days!
See Part One of Betty Speckels’ memories
in last month’s edition of socalwritersshowcase