Chapter 2

Attitude of Gratitude

12/7/2006

Much Obliged

Found this missing photo in the basement chronicling my earlier years (always a car guy) of posing happily with other people's interesting cars. Some say, that's all I am, but a poser. As I look back fondly, I'm reminded that we didn't have much, but we didn't need much.

I'll never forget the Abbotts, although I can't remember there first names  ( Vinton & Hannah ) . This picture must have been taken in the 40's, as I was relaxing in our driveway next to what I believe to be our neighbors, the Abbotts' Model T Ford. Dad used to help fix it for them on occasion. American Elm trees out front- before the Dutch Elm Disease invasion. Seems like ancient times, and although their car was considered old and obsolete then, it was only a couple decades old at the time. Like sis Kathy driving a 1980 Chevelle today. As a sort of footnote to history, those shoes were probably hand me downs that all us kids wore. I recall seeing them at our Virgil auction between the drill bits and the sewing notions.

Mom used to send us wee kids to walk up the dirt road a piece, more than a quarter mile to Mr. and Mrs. Abbott's old farm house to buy eggs. We usually got the white ones, though they'd have some brown and speckled eggs on occasion. The couple were always aged. Seemed to be 100 yrs old forever. They were shriveled and wrinkly. Mr. Abbott had a terrible hunched over posture and large hunch back like Igor. I can picture him out in the hot summer sun in blue denim bib coveralls swinging the hand sickle or scythe cutting the tall grass. When he stopped to wipe his brow with the old red paisley bandana, his tanned face contrasted with his white forehead that had been covered by his straw hat. Occasionally, he'd stop to light his pipe or pump a tin cup of water from the well out front and offer me a drink. I guess he had a hard life eking out a living farming with arthritis, rheumatism, whatever. They were always glad to see us, and smilingly asking about our folks. Think I remember their wood cook stove and fireplace always going, but might be a false memory. The Mrs. was typically in a white lace trimmed and embroidered or printed faded yellow flowered apron. We'd give her the 20 or 35 cents for the eggs and her freckly hands were white and frail but also swollen with knobby joints. In her strained and crackling voice she would ALWAYS say weakly "Much Obliged". They were a kindly old couple and were sincerely grateful.