Three stories about Mom and Roger

by Roger



When I was about five years old, Grandpa Max was
spending the night at our house.  Mom shifted the
sleeping arrangements to accomodate him, and I ended
up with the living room couch.  Grandpa Max had the
southwest bedroom, across the hall from Mom's
and Dad's room.

My toy box was in the hallway at the time, and in the middle 
of the night I got up and started playing with my toys in the 
hallway.  Just then Grandpa Max got up to use the bathroom.
He said to me, "What are you doing up?"

I said, "I don't have any place to sleep."

Mom heard the conversation as she lied in bed.

Grandpa didn't say anything more.  He just used the 
bathroom and went back to bed.

Many years later Mom liked to remind me of it.

Mom said to me:

  "I wonder what Max must have thought.  I can just 
  imagine him saying to himself, "I've taken his bed.. 
  poor kid doesn't have any place to sleep."  Max must 
  of thought I was really cruel, not giving you any place 
  to sleep."


I have no idea why I said what I did.  But I remembered 
saying it.



When I was about five, I was playing on the sundeck right by the kitchen door when one of my front teeth fell out.  I knew it was something to be saved, but I was too busy playing to be bothered about putting it somewhere safe, so I put it under the rug just inside the door going into the kitchen, figuring I'd put it somewhere safer later.  Of course I forgot all about it.

That night at supper Mom looked at me and noticed my tooth was missing.  She said, "Hey, I see you lost a tooth!"

I was too startled to say anything.  I just looked up from my plate and stared ahead.  Then I thought, "Oh yeah!" Without saying anything I got up from my chair and dashed over to the rug and retrieved the tooth and showed it to Mom.

Years later she liked to remind me that I'd been having so much fun at my playing that I didn't want to take the time to put the tooth anywhere but the nearest place, even it if was under a dusty dirty rug.  That's what made Mom happy -- just to know that her kids were having fun.




Mom versus the Big Black Wolf


Audrey and Pam have heard this story.

My friend John Finkle, who was spending the night at Mom's house, butchered a deer in our back yard, which resulted in a large pile of scrap and bones.

I asked him what he was going to do with the pile, as I couldn't have it lying there.  He said, "The neighborhood dogs will take care of it." (He is very old school, and was wistfully wanting to equate our neighborhood with something much more rural.)

John can be a little hard to sway, so I just dropped it.  After he headed out, I laid a nylon tarp over the pile and "secured" the tarp with some large stones, as I didn't want to take time to deal with it any better than that before leaving for work.

For some reason, I left my two year old dog Buster at home that day.  Buster is the same breed and size (100 lb) as Jester.  In other words, he's a big strong black wolf.  Buster, like Jester, was never fenced and had the run of the yard, going in and out as Mom or I opened the door for him.

The first time Mom opened the front door to let him in after one of his breaks that day, he trotted in with a giant bloody bone in his mouth! It was a major leg bone -- thick, about two feet long.

While Jester was a docile, agreeable dog, Buster was rambunctious and self-willed.

Mom shrieked at Buster to drop the bone.  Nothing doing.
So Mom grabbed one end of the bloody bone and a savage tug-of-war ensued.

There, in our living room, was our 95 year old Norwegian granny engaged in a mighty battle for a bloody bone with the big bad wolf, all the while squealing in her squeaky voice "give me that!"

Mom told me it was a prolonged and pitched battle.  She ultimately wrenched the bone from Buster's powerful jaws! Then she tossed the bloody bone into the front closet! (and closed the closet door.)  She was very practical.




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