Chapter 12
Life On A Farm
I feel that I should point out that Ma was
stubborn as a mule when it came down to dressing appropriately at the dinner
table. Personally, we boys thought she’d hit her head too hard to go out of her
way to change a working situation. But Ma had her say when it came to what we
wore at the table. She was fine about us being dressed as Indians if we were
going to sit at her table; she felt strongly that the boys should at least be wearing clean shirts.
I mean, who could blame her, really? We did stand out compared to everyone
else. It came down to this: ever since Pa and the boys figured out a way for me
to sit at the table without the need for a tray for every meal. They would lay
me on the coach and Pa would bring in the two extra leaves to make it larger;
then they would place the other underneath so that I could stretch my legs and
not bend the stitches.
Instead of making me wear a shirt, Ma made me a ‘dinner vest’ that had no
sleeves or back; it was just a front that would tie comfortably around my neck
and waist. My brothers would have to wear a clean button-down shirt. They were
required to wear them during every meal and the shirts were to be placed on
hooks by the door after every meal; however, this wasn’t the only change made.
Since we ran all day in nothing but loincloths, Ma made good on her promise to
us boys: Our sisters would twice a day rub sunblock on us, followed by a large
bottle of massage oil after the day was done. It was to keep mine and our skin
from drying out and checking our feet for blisters and slivers. Otherwise a
complete manicure and rubdown before and after chores each day; but she and Pa
would bathe us until I felt comfortable enough to let her do it on my own
without any fuss.
Yes, this had to happen even if Grandma wasn’t there to hold my hands so she
could clean the more intimate places; it still needed to be done. You can trust
when I say that I was a handful when it came to being bathed by any woman after
the age of 13; sure Pa could have done it, but when it came right down to it,
it was mainly for medical care and Ma was the one to go to.
You see it was a
matter of pride and I’m sure if you’re a boy reading this, you can understand
what I mean; however, if my brothers could endure it, I knew I would be able to
as well. Eventually, hoping my shyness and I would stop feeling that I was
immoral by my parent’s standards would go away by this time after running
around in nothing but a loincloth with my brothers. Either way, I was starting
to feel more comfortable in my own skin and less embarrassed by it.
It didn’t take long before Ma received the first check from the state which
included back pay from the time I was placed under their custody and the
current month. Ma screeched almost fainted on the floor stating. “$5,000,
you’ve got to be kidding me.” She said kept staring at the check in her hands
and yelling for Pa to see if it was real. “What in heavens name are we going to
do with $5,000…?” They stood there stunned. While Ma read the rest of the letter
as her hand shook handing it to Pa. made a quick phone call to Mr. Wells asking
if it was real.
Finding out it was more than real. Informing her she will receive another check
for the following month’s expenses for two-thousand more and every month while
I was in their home. Which equaled to $7,000 in total for this month along with
another two thousand at the beginning of the next month just days away, and all
this for just taking care of me; she had to sit down as she cradled the phone
trying to breathe.
I had never seen so much money in my entire life as I looked at all those
zeros. No longer did I wonder how people could make so much money for kids like
me; it was staggering. Yes, sir. I was a meal ticket on steroids, but it
worried me. What if Ma and Pa found it wasn’t necessary to love me anymore? If
all they had to do was keep the state satisfied to get paid that kind of dough.
Jeff’s words echoed in my mind trust them.
The first thing Pa did was give me a
crisp new one hundred dollar bill to spend any way I wanted. Giving me an
allowance of $25.00 a week; for doing my chores like my brothers and sisters,
and keeping my nose out of trouble and keeping my grades up. The rest of the
money was set aside for college no if or buts about it.
Ma was totally on-board with that, but she had other plans as well. She said
that I needed clothes and my own room. Giving me my own room benefited us all;
it gave them a chance to enlarge the house. Pa was still in shock; Ma was
making plans. She laid down some ground rules and a plan on how to use the
money wisely. Ma decided to take the money and place half of it in a savings
account with my name on it and then place the rest into a college fund; placing
a restriction that neither of my parents wasn't allowed to touch it without my
Grandmother’s permission or until I was 18 years old.
Each month we would add to it after the basics were covered; food and clothes.
We were growing boys after all. Hell, I could use the money for my own car when
I was old enough. After clothes and everything else they felt that I needed, it
would be done out of love. I wasn’t for sale and neither was their love for me.
No, I could see that the money meant nothing to them as I rode to the bank
sitting on Ma’s lap with my bare feet and legs across the seat.
I didn’t have anything to wear except the loincloth because all of my clothing
had been burned or thrown away; including Aaron’s clothing. Who had brand new
spanking new clothes and a nice pair of sneakers that he seldom wore when visited
me so my Grandmother could have a break? Trust me when I say when it comes to
being very hyperactive or ADHD (I call it the bored quickly syndrome with a
burst of energy to burn.) My brother and I can be a handful, but Ma and Pa kept
us busy enough it was never a problem.
When we arrived at the bank the only one here in town and still is after thirty
some odd years, Santaquin may have grown in size but still has it small town
quirks. Like I said you blink you’d miss it. Pa personally carried me into the
bank then pulled two chairs over for me: one to sit in and one for my legs and
feet with a side table so I can fill out and sign documents. While they had the
bank teller work out the details, Ma laughed and kissed my cheek when people
stared at me. I, of course, had certainly been through worse than having a few
people stare at me. I was half naked and covered in nothing more than a
loincloth and bandages.
They would whisper freak or ruffian. Others would wonder would you get a look
at what he’s wearing. His parents should be ashamed of themselves for allowing
their kids to run around in public in almost nothing. He’s wearing nothing but
a washrag and at his age! They would also say what’s up with all of those
bandages? He’s covered in bruises and cuts as if someone literally beat him to
a pulp. I hope whoever did it is behind bars, that’s all I can say. Of course,
there were a few disgusting sneers otherwise no one said anything, but would
quickly walk away. Like I said out of sight, out of mind.
But I was certainly looked like no hobo that lived on the street. I was clean
and well groomed from head to toe, and had a crisp one hundred dollar bill just
begging me to spend it. What more could I ask for? I had parents that loved me
with a house full of brothers and sisters that loved me too. No, there was
nothing I needed. Well, maybe some boxers would be nice. Perhaps a shirt or two
that weren’t from a secondhand store would be nice, too. But for now, I was
just fine the way I was as I wiggled my very clean toes in the seat across from
me.
Pa decided to make one stop before returning to the farm; Ma insisted that I
have should have a nice, new pair of overalls too, which Pa agreed. Apparently,
the hubbub at the bank had bothered her enough, but she didn’t let on about it.
I offered to buy them myself, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Pa pulled alongside
the only store in Santaquin had and it was known as Stringum Hardware and
Goods. It’s still in business today with new management.
Apparently, Pa was well-known here; which really wasn’t a surprise; since Pa
did make things like: wooden future and toys. He made very good living from
here and other places he had contracts with. He wasn’t a millionaire by any
means, but he did make enough to keep us comfortable; to the point, we never
went without. Also considering I knew Mr. Stringum and Dave personally and have
been known to run errands for him on the weekends when my parents weren’t
looking or I just need a place to hang out to avoid going home even longer.
He always made sure I had a hot meal and plenty of food hidden around my hiding
places and a little spending money. He had taught me the basics of how to live
on my own in style; going way beyond scouting. He did have some medical
knowledge after serving as a paramedic during the war. Other words; he was very
well aware of how my parents treated me; being a strong advocate against child
abuse; and a very good friend of Judge Park; helping me keep my nose clean and
keeping me honest.
I can recall several arguments he’d gotten into with my father anytime he saw a
single bruise on my body or when he’d have to patch me up; he’d hide me from my
parents or the law, but he could never get the proof to stick; like I said:
they were very good at lying; with years of practice.
Mr. Dave Stringum was a man that always stood for what was right and one of the
few men in today’s world that understood farmers and how to judge a man by his
deeds and how he treats his family. Even though he prides himself of being the
one to put Santaquin on the map, selling the best-traded goods he can find;
homegrown and bought. He loved to gossip according to his wife who had been
dead two years gone from lung cancer. He was a man everyone counted on when
they needed something done or built.
He had just turned sixty-five this past spring, his dark brown hair starting to
gray and he still seemed nimble with an average height of six feet. Brown eyes
and a handsome square jaw that still made a women quiver when he whispers in
their ears. Despite most of his teeth were manmade as his white teeth glistened
as he gave each person a wink when he did something on the sly.
David Yonser, Mr. Stringum helper was a young kid fresh out of college in his
early twenties; with a solid build from carrying heavy items and use to hard
work hauling supplies all over town. He stood at the average height of
five-feet-nine-inches, blue eyes, and yellow curly hair. Dressed in a nice pair
of workman overalls and a white tee shirt that showed off his strong muscular arms;
the girls that noticed him would all lick their lips moaning with deep
satisfying pleasure as he carried out their order. With a green apron that said
Stringum Hardware and Goods painted on the front.
Pa gently carried me into the store while Ma held the door open for us. Mr.
Stringum then quickly tipped his hat and held the door open for Ma. He didn’t
bother to ask why I was hurt or why I was only wearing a loincloth. Dave came
from around the counter and made it abundantly clear that something was amiss
as he gasped with his mouth wide open as if he was trying to catch flies. He
barely heard Mr. Stringum order him to grab his chair from the office and a
couple of crates for my legs and feet; this way Pa had a place to set me down
instead of a stool. I mean, that wouldn’t have been comfortable at all.
Mr. Stringum only said. “I was being to worry about you son since I haven’t
seen you around these parts for nearly a month, and was beginning to wonder
where you went. Your father came by, but I asked him about it. He said you had
gone to scout camp with the boys. Never in wildest dreams…”
Pa simply replied.
“Dave, EJ is currently staying at our home for the time being due to reasons I
rather not go into if you know what I mean, and we have decided that he is now
considered one my, sons- not his father’s. If you know what I mean…?”
Mr. Stringum wasn’t caught off guard when Pa called me EJ instead of Eric; he
knew the reasons behind it and rarely used my birth name. Unless it was in
times it matters most, regarding documents that needed me to sign or in front
of my parents to avoid a very nasty argument. Which would lead to another
beating by them; he hated my birth name as much I did when he growled my
father’s name with content as he would hide me in his office from finding me
whenever he came into the store requesting items for the trailer park or church
house.
He may not have liked the man, but he still had to do business with him
regardless. Not once was I sent to make a delivery to where my father worked.
He would either send Dave or make him come get it himself. I told him he should
charge extra for all the items he bought. He would only laugh. “I would if I
wasn’t so damned honest.”
“Mr. Downing you’ll have no quarrel about that I assure you. Judge Parker and
Doc have given more than enough information regarding his situation, so much I
could spit penny nails in half. If you say he is yours, it puts my mind
completely at ease. Now, what can I get for you folks today.” He said as he
leaned down to rub my hair. “Dave I believe this young man deserves a nice full
bag of that penny candy.” Ma took a piece for herself before handing to me and
telling me not to eat it all in one sitting. I told her I wouldn’t and sat the
bag in my lap for later.
“Now then Dave,” Pa said. “We are here to get my son a couple of pair of
overalls and some decent work shoes that he can wear on the farm when he's able
to.” Ma knew my measurements better than I did. While she selected one size
bigger to make room for the bandages and couple packages of snaps so she could
split my overalls apart and put them together again. She wanted something I
could wear and still be comfortable she found three shirts just my size. As she
made sure that they weren’t to snug since I had filled out more due to her
cooking and helped dressed me right there in the store until she was satisfied.
When she was done, she helped me take them off and place them on the counter;
grabbing a couple more for good measure. She also added 12 pairs of socks,
placing one pair on as she told me to stop fussing long enough to find a good
pair of shoes that were the right size. My secondhand ones were either too big
or too small. It came to a grand total of three hundred dollars. I choked when
I saw the prices; my mother could have bought a seven-year supply of secondhand
clothes for me and Aaron with that kind of money and still had plenty left.
Pa laughed seeing me all gussied up dressed in a brand new bright yellow shirt
and pair of overalls and a good pair of shoes to boot. Yes, sir, I was
certainly a farmer’s son, no two ways about it; even Mr. Stringum laughed. I
was already sweating like a butcher before she helped me remove them. So she
could wash and hang them up when I could actually wear them. After all, Doc said
I need lots of fresh air and sunshine before he wanted to see clothing on my
back again. He wanted those wounds to stay clean and dry, not sweating, making
the infection worse than it was already.
Even though Ma had picked out some boxers, I wouldn’t be allowed to wear them
until Doc gave the okay. He was concerned about the infection around my left
thigh and the lower part of my ribs; I’d broken them clean through when I’d
fallen and nearly punctured a lung. The infection seemed to be lingering too long
regardless of how clean and dry I was kept. It just wasn’t healing fast enough.
The infection just kept coming back.
He was hoping with enough time and
antibiotics it would heal just like the other cuts I’d had, but he still had
doubts. For now, the clothing was optional. I couldn’t get my shoes and socks
off fast enough and nearly fell over trying to yank my socks off. Thankfully Pa
was there to steady me as Ma came to my rescue. I breathed deeply once I was
able to wiggle my bare toes once more. I hated shoes and socks: my brothers
weren’t any better.
“My son hates shoes as much as his brothers at home do,” Pa replied setting
them both on the counter. Mr. Stringum said. “I know that for a fact. The
second he walks in that door he tosses them in the office and then he is ready
to go to work, making my deliveries. But since his absence, they have piled up
some. I have a hard enough time finding anyone that will do them. Say, you
wouldn’t suppose I could borrow your boys Will and Robert for the rest of the
summer. Couple days a week and no more than two possible three hours each day;
I sure could use the help around here. Barefoot or not, I’ll take them and pay
them ten dollars week until school starts and to sweeten the pot I’ll add all
the penny candy they can eat, and EJ can help to when he’s well enough of
course.”
Pa rubbed his chin as he looked at me as I begged him to let me. My bank
account was looking really good and adding ten more dollars a week seemed to
make it even better. Ma said. “Well, have to wait and see what Doc says first.
But I don’t have a problem with that as long as they have their chores done and
keep out of trouble. That means we will have to get bikes for each of the boys
so they can get here and back. But I think we can work something out.”
Ma and Pa shook on the deal. And it was set in stone just the way Pa liked it
sealing the deal with a handshake. Mr. Stringum sprung for the bikes; he and
Dave loaded them in the pickup. Pa paid the bill and cleared the tab while
ordering a list of lumber he needed to get started on those rooms. He added a
bucket of nails and new tool belts for each of his sons and the tools to put in
them. By the time we left the store, we had spent nearly a thousand dollars,
but with all the goods Pa gave him to sell the bill rounded out with Pa still
having a hundred and fifty dollars on credit.
My concerns about me becoming a meal ticket went right out the window and I
still had that brand new crisp one-hundred dollar bill to spend. Ma placed it
in an envelope for safekeeping; since I didn’t have a wallet too put it in. We
placed it in the fruit cellar in a big bottle jar, tucked safely on the bottom
shelf. I knew at this rate that jar was going get filled rather quickly. Will
and Robert nearly fell over with shock seeing the new bikes and having the
opportunity to earn some money for the summer, on top of their week’s
allowance; yes sir we felt like kings, visualizing what we could do with all
that hard earn money.
We made a list of all the things we wanted to get with all that money we would
earn this summer. Robert, Will and I had picked out a nice dress for each of
our sisters we wanted to get them for their birthday and another just let them
know we loved them more than life it's self and bottle of their favorite
perfume. We had also decided to buy a new table saw and saddle for Pa and whole
new complete set of dinnerware with linen napkins and matching tablecloth and
some new toys for Sam and Aaron. Between the three of us, we were only short
five hundred dollars not including tax and delivery.
I wanted to go get the money so bad and put it with theirs, but I had learned a
hard lesson regarding responsibility and never count your chicken before they
hatch Grandma always says. That money would keep and grow quick enough if I
just left it lone. But all I could do was think about how much I wanted to give
back to the family that loved me. It hurt something awful, waiting for that
chance. The chance to see their surprised faces when they would each see the gifts
we’d bought for them; for now we’d keep it a secret. If we each did our share
of the work, we’d reach that goal. We placed the magazines with each ticket of
the items in a safe place; under the floorboards in the closet and we left our
money in our piggy banks.
The summer was almost half over and I hated it when Will and Robert left
without me to go to work for Mr. Stringum; hopping on their new bikes and
waving at me as I’d watch from the window. I had plenty to do without them. My
schoolwork wouldn’t do itself and even with the help of Ma or my sisters; I had
a deadline just as if I were in a classroom. The work was still due by the end
of the week and the school counselor would come by to pick it up. I think I
mentioned before, but my sisters would help me as much as they could. Ma as
well. We’d sit at the table each day.
Doc had taken some of the stitches out making it easier to bend my legs and one
crutch to hobble my way through the house or on the farm. But he still wouldn’t
let anything near my waist or on my back. So my new clothes hung unused in the
closet. Not that I wasn’t use to being in loincloth by now. I was becoming one
of the tannest boys ever in Santaquin. But I felt jealous as Will and Robert
hardly wore theirs unless it was really hot outside.
We went barefoot unless we were headed into town or working on the house. It
was the best way to avoid stepping on nails or getting slivers in our feet; it
only took a few times of having Julie pulling them out or dropping a hammer on
our foot before we finally got it. It didn’t matter how many times Pa warned
us, but it happens often enough you realized you should have listened. I had
already lost count on how many times either Julie or Ma was called to remove
slivers from my feet. Pa had one rule when it came to using any type of saw.
Shoes, overalls or jeans were mandatory. We would end up grounded with extra
chores until we learned our lesson. Ma wouldn’t even let me near a saw when Pa
or Robert was using one. I had enough injuries and certainly didn’t need
anymore.
Ma had finished my overalls with the snaps all the way down on both sides. At
least it gave me something to wear bedside my work shoes when we went to town
on family outings; it was nice every so often to have some time off from living
on the farm. Pa would take us out to see a movie we all wanted to see or he
would bring home a video and pizza with ice cold root beer and homemade ice
cream.
The TV was like an addiction when I was younger, but ever since I had been sold
to the Boars. I had lost interest in it all together. One reason was I never
had the time for it, because I was either too tired or too busy working. The TV
had lost its appeal even here when I had the time to watch it. There were just
so many re-runs you could watch; it was easy to become bored when you had other
ways to be entertained. Even Aaron rather play with Sam or rest of the family
then be sitting in front of the TV watching cartoons; again ADHD. Didn’t
compare to living on the farm with real live animals to feed and riding a horse
with my brothers or Pa.
It was more fun spending time with the family playing board games or having
water fights when the temperatures would seem so hot it would melt you where
you stood. Or curl up with a good novel or two. I could go through four novels
a week and still not get my fill of them.
Ma was teaching us how to dance, playing music on the radio or the
recorded player so we wouldn’t be embarrassed if we asked girl that wasn’t your
sister at school to dance or the summer picnic that would be held two weeks
before school started; it was the social advent of the year for us. I am not
saying there is anything wrong dancing with my sisters or Ma, far from it.
There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my Ma or my sisters because they mean the
world to me, but I could just imagine what it would be like to dance with my
mother or worse Susan or Becky. Just thinking about it gives me cold shivers
down my spine. And even worse having to touch their cold skin and look into
eyes that held so much hate that left you breathless. Farm life may be hard,
but it was filled with love and joy for the moment. And I think Hell would have
been a better place to be than with my parents or my birth sisters.
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