Two weeks ago, I asked you for a story about a time you laughed at yourself. Last week, I ran five fun stories. If you missed them, read them HERE. This week (our final week), I have another five for you.
Enjoy!
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Another school day had thankfully come to its end. I gathered my notebook and jacket and happily freed myself from the doors of the school. It was a two block walk home from school. I regularly walked home alone in our small town. I heard my name being called and saw a few of my friends hanging out the girls' bathroom window. “Where are you going?” they hollered. I briefly wondered why they were still in the school and why they'd ask me such a silly thing. “Home!” I hollered back as I rounded the corner, passing the school yard. I was intrigued why there were so many kids still playing as I passed along, taking the right turn towards home. I entered the door of my house with a sudden strange feeling that something wasn't right. Mom looked up from her ironing in the kitchen with a look of shock to see me. “What are you doing here?” I quickly began piecing together the recent events and quickly realized it was much earlier in the day than I thought. “Uh, school's over, so I came home,” I stated with question in my voice. After being set straight that it was only afternoon recess, and I still had two more hours to go, I was filled with embarrassment. I pleaded to be allowed to stay home, to be spared from facing my classmates who saw me leave. “No young lady, you march right back to class.”
It's been a few decades since then; I don't remember the walk back, but I do remember my friends looking at me with amazement that I just left and went home without permission before the day was done. It was a long two hours.
Debbie, Riverton, Wyoming
*****
I come from a family of huggers. We hug not only hello and goodbye, but my kids often just randomly hug me during the day. So, all that being said, I don’t really think twice about hugging. Years ago, at the conclusion of my yearly physical, the doctor escorted me out of the examining room. He stood in the hallway and extended his arms wide, an attempt at pointing me toward the exit, I realized later. But without thinking, I just saw the open arms and went in for a hug. I quickly realized my huge error when instead of a return hug I was greeted with a rigid body and still-extended arms. Of course doctors don’t hug their patients, especially their female ones! I was horrified at my mistake, and quickly released my embrace, turning around without a word and scurrying for the exit as quickly as possible, my face undoubtedly turning many shades of red. Neither one of us ever mentioned the incident. But I feel myself turning slightly pink, even today, at the memory.
Hope, Cataract, Wisconsin
*****
It was autumn and I had grown so many fun things in the garden that year. I had the beautiful purple and colored corn, white and orange pumpkins, and many different shaped gourds. I was inspired by so many decorated homes that I drove by and decided I was going to give this decorating a shot. I already had everything I would need, so it would be free; what more could you ask for?! I pulled a flower pot close to the front door, loaded it with corn stalks and gourds, had bigger pumpkins on a hay bale, and colored corn hanging prettily on the door. It turned out great! I was so proud of myself and my first attempt to decorate for the season. That evening when my husband came home from work, I went out to greet him, so he could tell me how good it all looked. I stepped outside only to see gourds on the ground, straw coming out of the bale, and chew marks in my pumpkins! I was sooo irritated! Those annoying dogs! We had a 1-year-old black lab, Midnight, and a yellow lab, Tucker. Well, they would just have to learn. I brought them over to my fixed masterpiece and sternly told them “NO” several times. I informed all the kids that if they saw the dogs messing with my beautiful creation, they had better stop them. I was determined. After fixing my masterpiece a few more times after the dogs thought it was all their toys, I decided I was going to stand watch and catch them in the act. The kids were all outside playing, the dogs were in the yard, and I waited patiently to teach one of the dogs a lesson. Midnight was the first to approach and after sniffing around for a while, she grabbed a gourd in her mouth, but I was ready. My plan was to surprise Midnight, grab her by the collar, and make her let go of the gourd right where she had taken it from. Things did not go according to plan. Midnight's reaction time was much faster than mine, and she took off running before I could grab her. So, I ran after her thinking I could catch her and bring her back. Midnight was running, I was running, and all the kids were frozen in place at the sight of Mom running. Tucker, the 110-pound yellow lab, saw me running and wanted in on the fun. He charged straight at me, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye, right before impact with my feet. He hit me so hard I literally cartwheeled through the air, and being the graceful mother of 4 that I am, I skidded to a stop on the palms of my hands in the gravel driveway. The kids all came running, mouths open wide in awe. I dragged myself and my bloody palms off the ground, just as my husband pulled into the driveway. I limped into the house as the kids gleefully told Dad how Mom flew through the air. My husband came into the house as I was over the sink, crying and digging the gravel out of my palms and washing the blood off my hands. He tried so hard to be supportive as he hugged me from behind. Choking back the laughter, he asked if I was okay. Crying and laughing at once, I said, “This is why we can't have nice things!”
Katrina, Valley City, North Dakota
*****
It was 4th of July weekend, and the 4th fell on a Monday. We lived on a farmstead, and my husband had decided to raise our own chickens to put meat in the freezer, and this was the weekend for getting it done. He decided to get the butchering done right away at the beginning of the weekend so we could just enjoy most of the weekend without work. I didn't want any part of it. I had participated in butchering chickens when I was a kid and that was enough for me. I'd take care of the chicken after it was in the freezer. It all went well, the kids helped, all the meat was in the freezer, and all the stuff we couldn't use was in thick, black construction garbage bags in the back of the truck ready to go to the dump. We had a couple of dogs, and they would dig up anything that got buried, and we didn't want the yucky stuff showing up in the yard later.
The truck stayed shut in the metal shed and we had a wonderful weekend in spite of the almost 100-degree heat. Fast forward to Tuesday. My husband was back to work, but the chicken remains were still in the back of the truck, and very smelly after a long weekend baking in the shed. Remember the 100-degree weather? Could I please take those bags to the dump for him because the dump would be closed by the time he got home from work and the stuff was really starting to smell? The kids were all at VBS, and I didn’t really have anything going on other than cleaning, so yes. As I went out to get the truck later that day, though, the smell hit me before I even got to the shed. It was really bad! It was a good thing it was going today. I drove the 20 miles to the dump, thinking it might air out a little on the drive, but no. As I pulled into the dump to unload, one of the workers came to help me, and he was immediately hit hard by the smell! “What do you have in there?” he asked. Embarrassed, (what hicks he would think we were, especially if I told him what it was) “Just garbage that was sitting out all weekend.”
I got out of there as fast as I could. I thought I better go get a car wash. That would get rid of whatever smell was left. I pulled up at the gas station, and there was a line at the car wash. I would just get gas first. I got out to get gas. It still really smelled! The guy across the pump from me made a face, “What do you have in there, a dead body?!” I wanted to die. “I just went to the dump,” I said. Thankfully I could pay with a credit card and hurry up and get in the car wash. I only had to wait for the car that just went into the wash. As I sat waiting, I saw the guy that was across the pump from me talking to the clerk, pointing at me in my truck. Both of them looked at me. I really wanted this to be over. Pretty soon the clerk came out and walked all the way around my truck, looking into the back end. I'm sure she thought I was taking a load of garbage through the car wash. I had cleaned the back end out thoroughly, I promised. She completed her tour around the truck, looked at me with a “Where are you from?” look, and walked back in the store without saying anything. I would get this car wash and get out of there! I finally got through and decided to stop and have coffee with my sister. I deserved it after one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I drove up and parked across the street from her house. She was out watering her flowers as I pulled up. She turned around to greet me, made a face and said, “What is that smell?!” I am NEVER going to the dump for my husband again.
Katrina, Valley City, North Dakota
*****
Over 12 years ago, I gave my mom the perfect story to start a conversation. It goes something like this.
Elementary students are taught the importance of safety, and my Litchville-Marion kindergarten class was having an important presentation given by Barnes County’s police department. All seven of us kindergartners were enthralled with handcuffs, guns, and badges, so we listened intently and waited for our chance to ask the officer if he’d ever tazed anyone. After the presentation, the officers handed out coloring books filled with directions on what to do during different emergency situations, and our teacher created a theme for the week: If You Need Help Call.
My family lived on a small farm outside the town of Litchville, ND. My mom constantly drove us kids to appointments and activities, and managed to work out a schedule to fit all of us—except for one day. Her plan was to load my baby brother into the car, pick up my middle brother, and head to town. However, my oldest brother ended up sick, so my mom packed all three of my brothers and brought them all with her to the doctor, which meant my oldest brother wouldn’t be home to look after me when I was done with school. I had to take the bus home, which wasn’t so bad because our bus driver often gave us candy bars.
My mother wouldn’t be home after school now, so she told me to watch a movie, and she would be home before it was done. Her directions to run the VCR seemed simple, but we all know how it goes with technology.
After the final bell, I hopped onto the bus full of loud, smelly, and scary big kids. Since we lived out in the country on a small farm, my big brothers and I were always the last ones off the bus. After close to an hour riding on the bus without my brothers that day, the familiar big red barn came into view.
As usual, the bus driver dropped me off at the mailbox, and I ran as fast as I could to the house, anxious to watch whatever movie I wanted. With no loud brothers to boss me around or drag me outside for a game of tackle football, I could enjoy my afternoon in peace, but as I walked into our eerily quiet farmhouse, a feeling of loneliness and panic overwhelmed me. I’d never been home by myself before, and it scared the heebie-jeebies out of me when I realized no one would be there to protect me if someone tried to break in and kidnap me.
I went to pick out a movie, but not just any old movie. I was finally going to be watching a movie of my choice and not be out-voted by the male population of the house. This movie had to be a princess movie! But which one? I finally chose one of my many princess movies and was loading it into the VCR when I realized again how nervous I was to be home alone.
Maybe you’re thinking, “What kind of mother leaves her five-year-old daughter home alone?” I’ll tell you. The kind of mom who didn’t have any choice and thought it would be easy for her daughter to sit and watch a movie. But it takes a special kind of kid to make watching a movie into a fiasco involving the police.
I turned on the TV and tried to get the movie to play. It felt like hours, but I probably struggled with the VCR for four minutes. Realizing I needed help, I scrounged through drawers and found my coloring book full of helpful suggestions from the police who had visited school. Scanning through it, I landed on the page with HELP written across the top in big, bold letters. I grabbed the phone and dialed the number written on the page. Expecting to hear my dad’s voice on the other end, I was terrified by the strange woman’s voice saying, “911. What’s your emergency?” After just learning about stranger danger, I quickly hung up the phone. I would be doomed to a life without my princess movie.
Instead of crying, I headed outside to see if our neighbor was in the field next to our shed. I spotted his tractor and could tell he was working his way toward me, but then a white pickup came barreling down the gravel road in the direction of the farm. My neighbor in the tractor drove farther and farther away from me, leaving me to fight off the stranger by myself. The image of a big, scary man shoving me into his pickup and taking me away from my family flashed through my mind, and I ran at lightning speed back to the safety of our house.
Fear clawed at my chest, and I hid in the darkest corner of our living room. When the knock at the door came, I crept up to the window. A big man with a gun. The super cool badge. Handcuffs dangling from his belt. It was a police officer! Apparently my luck had shifted because now I could get the help I needed. I opened the door to the large but kind-looking man. He asked me where my parents were, and I happily declared I was the only one home. Concern crossed his face, but he continued his questioning and ended up coming in to get an exclusive interview and tour of the house.
The police officer fixed the VCR and showed me how to play my princess movie. My dad came home shortly after, so the officer was unable to stay and watch Beauty and the Beast with me.
Minutes later, my mom came in, tears streaming down her face and grabbed me by the arms. I thought she was angry, but she hugged me tight and declared how worried she was when she received a phone call from her sister who was contacted by the police department. My dad quickly informed her no one was hurt. Only then was she able to recover from that heart-stopping experience.
Rose, Valley City, North Dakota
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.