February 3rd, 2010
continued from the post January 29, 2010…
The “family in question” who had birthed the girl I “hated”, lived roughly one mile from the church.
It seemed like an hour’s drive that fateful day.
When we arrived, I noticed that there was a duck pond to the right of the driveway.
As was to be expected, there were lots of ducks.
And a huge goose.
That, in the annals of waterfowl history…
goes down as the meanest goose to have ever graced this planet.
Despite what DeDe’s mom, Jane, may try to interject here…
by way of a comment.
He was the exact breed of the picture shown, and was a “Graylag” goose.
Trust me when I say that there was nothing pertaining to the word “lag” in this fowl-fellow’s vocabulary.
As we got older and I could drive…
whenever we needed to drop something off at the house,
my brother could time making it to the door just ahead of this beast…
impeccably.
Because if you didn’t?…
Let’s just say that in merely looking at this “Googled” water fowl…
my Achillie’s tendons are tingling!
As we continue to discuss core issues…
I’m hoping to rustle up some more visuals of the events and people being described here.
Just know that I’m working on it, and that it’s complicated right now.
When we arrived at the door, the happy parents of the above-stated offspring, were there to greet us…
along with the three other sisters in this brood.
Admittedly, this did soften the blow.
Somewhat.
Stepping through the dining room, to the kitchen…
there she was.
Standing at the KitchenAid mixer…
whipping up dessert.
May I pause to interject here,
that not much has changed over the long haul of years?
DeDe has been standing, off and on, at a KitchenAid mixer…
whipping up something…
for the last 40!
“HI”!…
She came over to greet us.
This move was not only waaayy too exuberant…
it was highly suspect.
I knew right then and there that she, too, was being coerced into polite conversation with “the enemy.”
I had no choice…
I had to act quickly.
“Hello”, I replied.
Brilliant.
“We’re glad you’re here.”
“We’re going to have a great afternoon.”
It became painfully apparent that this individual addressing me…
had suffered some form of severe blow to the head.
Or there was an Oscar waiting somewhere nearby.
Dinner was amazing!
Always has been at the Ohlund estate.
You’ll never go hungry, rarely eat so well,
and could rustle up a hearty one-of-a-kind meal at 2:30 a.m. if necessary.
Once the table was cleared…
and the dishes were on their way to being done…
we were sent outside to play.
Once again, the brilliance of the “Dad CORE and Love of Learning” gene strikes. No “helicopter parenting” techniques for him.
i.e. “Honey-I-know-you-hate-her-but-could-you-be-nice-just-this-once?” or “I-hope-she’s-nice-to-you-darling-because-I-know-
you-would-never-paint-an-inaccurate-picture-with-all-of-your-10-year-old-maturity-while-I-wring-my-hands-tactics.”
Nosiree.
It was pretty much beyond implication that we had better BOTH do one thing.
Work. It. Out.
In Core Phase, it is very wise to allow situations to manifest themselves fully, in which a child will either chose to succeed or fail.
Without your intervention.
But definitely under your watchful eye and loving guidance.
How are you doing in this area of your life?
Never letting children fail and suffer natural consequences of actions and decisions,
however immature they may be, is to ultimately set them up for huge failure later in life.
Our parents definitely knew this.
Darn it.
Once we were outside, Ms. “Head-Injury” experienced an amazing comeback.
There was absolutely no doubt about it.
She was a pig.
Didn’t have any at the time, but definitely was one.
I mentioned earlier that my brother was in kindergarten…
when we were relegated to this new-found farm life.
He was cute.
And nice.
And totally unsuspecting.
in keeping with my promise to resurrect photos pertaining to the “era” being covered, I scanned this beauty in the garage. It hangs above my dad’s workbench. It was made in a Swanson pot pie tin…with plaster of Paris. He created it in Sunday School. I love the gold metallic paint job. My brother is known for his artistic talents. I also really admire the photographer’s ability to center the subject. Moving on…
In all actuality, he was in a whopping first grade, I believe…
by the time the “lucky lotto” came up for the Ohlunds to entertain us.
We were pretty much eating our way through the weekends at a brisk clip by then.
DeDe sauntered by the duck pond.
It was an unusually warm day.
“Would you like to swim?”
I would not.
My little brother, possessing numerous fish-like qualities…
was always game for this particular invitation.
Even if it was just a bathtub.
In he went.
I stood on the side.
Because I was waayyy smarter than these two.
And so much more “highly refined.”
I’m quite certain at this point, the adults were yucking it up over coffee and dessert…
while the “perky paradox” was about to make her move.
“You know, I think we’ve all had enough of you being such snooty, city-slickers.”
This was definitely aimed at me.
I stood there, attempting to act nonchalant.
DeDe looked at me and smirked.
“I think that it’s time we baptized you into the country life.”
She proceeded to dip a 5 gallon bucket deep, deep into the pond…
Where those ducks swam.
Multiple times each day.
And she dumped it over the head..
of my sweet little, unsuspecting brother!
He was in white pants to boot.
I was shocked and horrified.
This was definitely a new development…
and she was goin’ down!
to be continued…
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