Thursday, June 10, 2004
MORE THOUGHTS OF 1962
Billie, the parakeet deserves a little space in the grand scheme of things. He was a great little bird with a big heart….made fat because Billie loved pea-nut butter. Just how they came upon this bird I have no idea. In fact, it seems strange they would have one because dad was really funny about animals in the house. We were never allowed one growing up. However…..when there are kids in the house we adults do a lot of things for reasons we never adhere to once the kids have moved on. Becky is constantly reminding me….. “you never did that when we were home” or “you never let us get by with that”…. and she’s right. I don’t do a lot of the things the same way any more……so …….shoot me !! I maintain the right to change. (If you aren’t over 60 you don’t understand this yet. Just read on.)
Billie had the widest vocabulary of any bird I ever witnessed. Mom spent hours with Billie on her finger, his head close to her lips in a lowered position as if getting the vibes from her as she spoke. She constantly wrote of Billie’s increasing vocabulary and I thought….. “yah, right. A bird speaking so clear you can make out the words…poor mom…she needs another hobby.” Much to my amazement on the next visit home we were observers to his expertise. We heard him plainly say,
“Loooo-ie, Essssss-ter, I like Folll-ggggers coffee, Hot dog I’m a democrat, Where’s Hoppy, Billie Boy, Merry Christ-mo’ (never got so he could say Christmas) and it went on and on. I’m sure the kids can remember more words than I can. He was a regular show-off and the folks adored that bird. He had the run of the house unless for his own safety mom put him in his cage….of course at night he always went in and was covered til morning. Usually through the day he rode around on mom’s shoulder unless she was eating and quite often he would hop down on the table and take bites off her plate. I’m sure this sounds gross to some but when you love your pet…..they get certain privileges that NO one else can have. There wasn’t a cleaner cook than my mother nor a more picky person about food than dad so believe me when I say we weren’t offended by Billie’s presence at the table. He would only go to mom’s plate.
When mom and dad went to the lake for a few days in their camper, Billie went along and dad would hang his cage in a tree……Billie loved being ‘out’ and jabbered constantly. Of course the folks loved showing him off…he was a real ham and neighboring campers got a kick out of him. Dad found a little baby rabbit in their yard one time when he was mowing. The mother or other siblings were nowhere to be seen…dad took the little guy to mom and they fed and nursed him along until he was past the danger point. By then he had become as tame as a cat…and as clean, with his own litter box. Dad didn’t think they could put him back out because he had become so tame. Billie and Hoppy became friends and raced around the house playing tag and hide and seek…..it was a riot to watch them. Hoppy was as fast as lightening and used all manner of deflection maneuvers to stay ahead of Billie in their sprints.
Of course when Billie was found dead in his cage the morning of my 30th birthday the loss was insurmountable to both mom and dad. Especially since Hoppy had come to a bad end as well. Dad told that he would get up in the night and Hoppy would be sitting by the screen door looking out in the moonlit yard. Dad felt like Hoppy was needing to be out to live a normal life and took his friend one day to the back yard. For several days he would appear when dad or mom would be walking in their yard and then…..they didn’t see him anymore. A few days later Dad saw some neighbor boys in their back yard throwing stones at something in the grass…he immediately got sick in his stomach because he had the feeling it was Hoppy. He figured Hoppy saw the boys and thought they were friendly like mom and dad……..it was his demise more than likely. Dad could never go look to see….he hung on to the hope that maybe Hoppy was alive and well somewhere and his fears were wrong. Once you love a little critter that much it hurts to see them go. They never had another pet.
The house across the street from us had a family living in it when we joined the neighborhood. Later they moved out and it was repossessed by the government since the owner was a veteran and originally purchased it on a G.I. Loan. The house stood empty for some time and one day in 1962 we noticed people looking at it. Time went by and later a truck came with furniture and a family appeared. It was St. Patrick’s day in 1962. There was an older couple along with a young couple and two children. They came and went a lot and finally the older couple were no longer coming there. We became acquainted and found the older ones had been the parent’s of Gene (the husband) and his father had been going for cancer treatments until his death. His mother returned to Emporia where the familie’s originated from.
We became good friends over the years and Rosalie was like a kid sister to me. She was 6-years younger than me and Gene was a little older than her. Their children, Douglas was almost 3-years and Janice was less than 5-months. Since we were both stay-at-home-moms we were reinforcement for each other in an era where women were being encouraged to “be all they could be career-wise.” At times it seemed we were in a category of women who weren’t capable for anything ‘other’ than staying home and raising kids…..like it was a last resort choice. There was a strong movement towards Women’s Lib and the like….where a woman could do it all without a man. I think time has shown that was a disastrous intent. I’m all for a woman being capable and even independent…but why do we have to do that in defiance to men? I like men….my husband was a man…my father was a man, my brother was a man…my cousins, uncles and grand-father’s were men….well, I think you get the point.
Rose and I shared many moments and emotions while neighbors on 65th Street and have been in timely contact ever since. “Make new friends, but keep the old; for one is silver…the other gold. You will be hearing a lot about Rosalie as we continue our journey…….and we need to meet John’s kindergarten teacher yet……
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
Billie had the widest vocabulary of any bird I ever witnessed. Mom spent hours with Billie on her finger, his head close to her lips in a lowered position as if getting the vibes from her as she spoke. She constantly wrote of Billie’s increasing vocabulary and I thought….. “yah, right. A bird speaking so clear you can make out the words…poor mom…she needs another hobby.” Much to my amazement on the next visit home we were observers to his expertise. We heard him plainly say,
“Loooo-ie, Essssss-ter, I like Folll-ggggers coffee, Hot dog I’m a democrat, Where’s Hoppy, Billie Boy, Merry Christ-mo’ (never got so he could say Christmas) and it went on and on. I’m sure the kids can remember more words than I can. He was a regular show-off and the folks adored that bird. He had the run of the house unless for his own safety mom put him in his cage….of course at night he always went in and was covered til morning. Usually through the day he rode around on mom’s shoulder unless she was eating and quite often he would hop down on the table and take bites off her plate. I’m sure this sounds gross to some but when you love your pet…..they get certain privileges that NO one else can have. There wasn’t a cleaner cook than my mother nor a more picky person about food than dad so believe me when I say we weren’t offended by Billie’s presence at the table. He would only go to mom’s plate.
When mom and dad went to the lake for a few days in their camper, Billie went along and dad would hang his cage in a tree……Billie loved being ‘out’ and jabbered constantly. Of course the folks loved showing him off…he was a real ham and neighboring campers got a kick out of him. Dad found a little baby rabbit in their yard one time when he was mowing. The mother or other siblings were nowhere to be seen…dad took the little guy to mom and they fed and nursed him along until he was past the danger point. By then he had become as tame as a cat…and as clean, with his own litter box. Dad didn’t think they could put him back out because he had become so tame. Billie and Hoppy became friends and raced around the house playing tag and hide and seek…..it was a riot to watch them. Hoppy was as fast as lightening and used all manner of deflection maneuvers to stay ahead of Billie in their sprints.
Of course when Billie was found dead in his cage the morning of my 30th birthday the loss was insurmountable to both mom and dad. Especially since Hoppy had come to a bad end as well. Dad told that he would get up in the night and Hoppy would be sitting by the screen door looking out in the moonlit yard. Dad felt like Hoppy was needing to be out to live a normal life and took his friend one day to the back yard. For several days he would appear when dad or mom would be walking in their yard and then…..they didn’t see him anymore. A few days later Dad saw some neighbor boys in their back yard throwing stones at something in the grass…he immediately got sick in his stomach because he had the feeling it was Hoppy. He figured Hoppy saw the boys and thought they were friendly like mom and dad……..it was his demise more than likely. Dad could never go look to see….he hung on to the hope that maybe Hoppy was alive and well somewhere and his fears were wrong. Once you love a little critter that much it hurts to see them go. They never had another pet.
The house across the street from us had a family living in it when we joined the neighborhood. Later they moved out and it was repossessed by the government since the owner was a veteran and originally purchased it on a G.I. Loan. The house stood empty for some time and one day in 1962 we noticed people looking at it. Time went by and later a truck came with furniture and a family appeared. It was St. Patrick’s day in 1962. There was an older couple along with a young couple and two children. They came and went a lot and finally the older couple were no longer coming there. We became acquainted and found the older ones had been the parent’s of Gene (the husband) and his father had been going for cancer treatments until his death. His mother returned to Emporia where the familie’s originated from.
We became good friends over the years and Rosalie was like a kid sister to me. She was 6-years younger than me and Gene was a little older than her. Their children, Douglas was almost 3-years and Janice was less than 5-months. Since we were both stay-at-home-moms we were reinforcement for each other in an era where women were being encouraged to “be all they could be career-wise.” At times it seemed we were in a category of women who weren’t capable for anything ‘other’ than staying home and raising kids…..like it was a last resort choice. There was a strong movement towards Women’s Lib and the like….where a woman could do it all without a man. I think time has shown that was a disastrous intent. I’m all for a woman being capable and even independent…but why do we have to do that in defiance to men? I like men….my husband was a man…my father was a man, my brother was a man…my cousins, uncles and grand-father’s were men….well, I think you get the point.
Rose and I shared many moments and emotions while neighbors on 65th Street and have been in timely contact ever since. “Make new friends, but keep the old; for one is silver…the other gold. You will be hearing a lot about Rosalie as we continue our journey…….and we need to meet John’s kindergarten teacher yet……
Until tomorrow,
Essentially Esther
