One vivid memory, I was maybe 4 years old when mom and dad had a fight. The only time they ever did fight. I do not know what started it, but they were arguing and dad pulled out one of her plates and threw it on the kitchen floor, smashing it. My Irish mother yelled, “you think that scares me?” She then proceeded to throw out a cup and saucer and smash them. It continued until all the dinnerware was shattered on the kitchen floor. I started to walk in when mom said, “stay out of the kitchen until I get this mess cleaned up.” I suppose they made up, because my first brother Tom was born less than a year later.
Mom was pregnant most of the time, hatching out 6 of us. It’s strange but I could always tell when she was pregnant almost before she was sure of it. There was something different about her, not that she was showing, but her attitude and demeanor changed. Much later I asked her why she had so many children. She said because dad wanted them. I then asked why he wanted so many, she replied she did not know for sure, but she guessed he always wanted somebody to watch the Saturday morning TV cartoons with him.
Speaking of cartoons, there was one that ran every Saturday when my brother Tom was maybe 5 years old, making me 10 years old. The cartoon was about these raindrops, the light-colored raindrops were always happy and singing, while the dark raindrops were always sad. Dad turned to brother Tom and said, “we are the happy raindrops, but Bill is the sad raindrops.” I always had a sad, mad, serious expression on my face and still do. When I was first introduced to Joyce’s mother, she later asked Joyce what was the matter with me because I looked so sad? When I was in the navy and had shore patrol duty I was usually picked to go with the regular shore patrol guys to pick up trouble makers and take them into custody. It wasn’t because of my skinny frame, but because of the look on my face. Joyce and I have been married 54 years and she still asks me what is wrong, because of the look on my face. It’s the only face I have, so I am stuck with it.
Back to the old days, I somehow acquired a German Shepherd dog. The only word I could say was Leo, so that was the dog’s name. I rarely spoke in the very early days. My mother even spoke with the ladies. during the coffee get-togethers the neighborhood mothers had during the day, asking them if I needed to see a speech therapist because I didn’t talk. The one woman said, “why does he need to talk? He just points and you get him what he wants.” Back to Leo, it turned out Leo was a female and she had a bunch of puppies, which I just loved, but mom was afraid the dog would snap at me when I would pick up the puppies, but she never did. Somehow Leo and the puppies ran away. My great aunt Florence brought me a Boston bull puppy for my next birthday and somehow it ran away too. I did not understand how that happened, because it could hardly walk yet. The next year she brought me two pigeons and the next morning when I went out to see them, they had gotten out of their cage and flew away. I suppose I just had bad luck with pets. No wonder I had a sad look on my face all of the time.
When I was very young my dad drove an ambulance on the night shift. My mother took me and my cousin Regina to see the movie “Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein.” She thought we would like it because they were a funny comedy team. It turned out when Frankenstein first showed up, we both ducked under the seats, we were so terrified and never came up until the movie was over.
So when you see me with a sad look on my face, now you know “the rest of the story” as Paul Harvey used to say.
Mom was pregnant most of the time, hatching out 6 of us. It’s strange but I could always tell when she was pregnant almost before she was sure of it. There was something different about her, not that she was showing, but her attitude and demeanor changed. Much later I asked her why she had so many children. She said because dad wanted them. I then asked why he wanted so many, she replied she did not know for sure, but she guessed he always wanted somebody to watch the Saturday morning TV cartoons with him.
Speaking of cartoons, there was one that ran every Saturday when my brother Tom was maybe 5 years old, making me 10 years old. The cartoon was about these raindrops, the light-colored raindrops were always happy and singing, while the dark raindrops were always sad. Dad turned to brother Tom and said, “we are the happy raindrops, but Bill is the sad raindrops.” I always had a sad, mad, serious expression on my face and still do. When I was first introduced to Joyce’s mother, she later asked Joyce what was the matter with me because I looked so sad? When I was in the navy and had shore patrol duty I was usually picked to go with the regular shore patrol guys to pick up trouble makers and take them into custody. It wasn’t because of my skinny frame, but because of the look on my face. Joyce and I have been married 54 years and she still asks me what is wrong, because of the look on my face. It’s the only face I have, so I am stuck with it.
Back to the old days, I somehow acquired a German Shepherd dog. The only word I could say was Leo, so that was the dog’s name. I rarely spoke in the very early days. My mother even spoke with the ladies. during the coffee get-togethers the neighborhood mothers had during the day, asking them if I needed to see a speech therapist because I didn’t talk. The one woman said, “why does he need to talk? He just points and you get him what he wants.” Back to Leo, it turned out Leo was a female and she had a bunch of puppies, which I just loved, but mom was afraid the dog would snap at me when I would pick up the puppies, but she never did. Somehow Leo and the puppies ran away. My great aunt Florence brought me a Boston bull puppy for my next birthday and somehow it ran away too. I did not understand how that happened, because it could hardly walk yet. The next year she brought me two pigeons and the next morning when I went out to see them, they had gotten out of their cage and flew away. I suppose I just had bad luck with pets. No wonder I had a sad look on my face all of the time.
When I was very young my dad drove an ambulance on the night shift. My mother took me and my cousin Regina to see the movie “Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein.” She thought we would like it because they were a funny comedy team. It turned out when Frankenstein first showed up, we both ducked under the seats, we were so terrified and never came up until the movie was over.
So when you see me with a sad look on my face, now you know “the rest of the story” as Paul Harvey used to say.
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