Friday, November 16, 2012

50 + 50 = 100 (part 2)



 St. Nicholas Byzantine Catholic Church, Perryopolis, built about 1918

When we arrived at the historic colonial coal town of Perryopolis (estb. 1814), my cousins were playing ball in my Grandparents' yard.   I had not seen any of them in 5 years, too long ago for me to remember them, but Dad had prepped me with their names and ages.  Cathy and Janet lived in NY and were close in age to me.  Eddie lived a stone's throw away and was also my age.  The rest were younger, except for Susan, 5 years older than any of the rest of us. 

As kids do, I hit it off with my peer-cousins in the green open space of Perryopolis.  Backyards had no fences, and runs flowed everywhere (creeks).  The schoolyard was a few hundred feet away.   My Uncle Paul's service station and beer distribution business was within sight of my Grandparents' house, and I used to go down there to stare at the gum he had for sale in the office, thinking if I hung around long enough he'd give me some.   Can't remember if he did or not.

 My favorite: Uncle Paul in  1962.  He died last March.

 Humble Gas Station owned by Uncle Paul

On July 20 our family had the formal reunion celebrating my Grandparents' 50th anniversary; I'll cover that tomorrow.  By that time I had warmed up to everyone, felt more comfortable there, and my natural mischiviousness broke through my deep, painful shyness.   The trouble began.

First and least, I loved my cousin Janet's cutie haircut and had to have one like it.  I pestered Mom endlessly about it until she finally took me uptown for my first pixie cut.


Then, as parents do, Dad wanted to give us a little taste of his childhood, so he took us into the woods to pick blackberries (they didn't grow in our part of California).   Back at the house, he announced we were going to give our haul to Aunt Dorothy so she could make one of her world famous blackberry pies. Heck if I was going to give up my hard-earned container of berries.  Tiring of my whining and fussing my folks gave in to shut me up.  They regretted it later.  I insisted taking the berries along to our quick trip to NY.  They spilled on the car floor and onto some clothing and pillows, and you all know blackberries make a stain that never comes out. 


It gets worse.  Uncle Ed went out to do errands to do for the beer business and invited my cousin Eddie and me to go along for the ride.  We all 3 piled into the company beer truck.

 blue and yellow Bubnash Beer Distribution company truck

Uncle Ed stopped at a client's bar and left us kids in the truck.  He was gone an awful long time.  We got antsy until we discovered the cigarette lighter (remember those?--they were in every vehicle).  It wasn't cool enough that the thing was hot and bright.  We had to burn something, but what to burn?  The seat of the truck, that's what.  We burned holes in it and were lucky we didn't incinerate ourselves.  I caught major heck for that, and rightly so.

Eddie and I again.  Not enough for us to do I guess.  We got the amusing idea to tie my Uncle John and Aunt Kay inside their house.  We found miles of cord in Eddie's cellar.  Kay and John's house had a wrought iron railing outside the kitchen door that they used exclusively.  With focused energy we wrapped the cord from the door to the railing and back again and again, a hundred times or more, building a spider's web that we were so sure would entertain and amuse them when they tried to leave.  It didn't.  Caught heck again.

My relatives must have been thrilled to see our family leave and put 2700 miles between us and them!  And I'm sure we were considered ill-mannered hillbillies for years after.  Or least I was.

Tomorrow: The Celebration, 50 + 50 = 100, part 3


2 comments:

  1. Haha! OK, I see now - you came from California. How did you get way out there?

    You were a rascal, huh? I love the haircut! You are so adorable.


    Blackberry cobbler is so good!

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  2. My Dad landed a West Coast job--Lockheed Aircraft, when I was 3 months old. I grew up in the San Fernando Valley, at least until age 13; then we moved to the Santa Clarita Valley (Newhall area). Yes, I was a naughty child, but am a very mature law-abiding adult!

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