Table Talk

How wonderful it was to ing up the lane and driving be a kid on the farm back across our yard toward the in the day. gas and fuel barrels. A guy Growing up ten miles from the nearest town, you didn’t just run into town named Bob Bullington drove that bucket of bolts that kept our farm going. for one missing ingredient Farm kids in the day were in a recipe, and you sure not as afraid to approach better be near death if you needed to see the doctor, TABLE TALK someone they didn’t know; or maybe it was because with gas at 45 or 50 cents By Karen Schwaller Dad would occasionally per gallon. stop what he was doing to Seldom did visitors find themselves in our yard unless they really wanted to be there — if only visit with him while the barrels filled. The guy must be okay if Dad stopped his work to visit. because we lived in Nowheresville. Before long, we befriended him; and Rare was it for a visitor to find when we saw the truck coming we themselves there by accident … would scamper to meet him … not except for the Fuller Brush lady, necessarily for the stimulating convermaybe. sation that would ensue, but because

As kids, we learned to entertain our- he had the goods. selves. My brothers wore paths in the He had Slo-Poke suckers — those yard grass from all the farming they chewy caramel slices of heaven on a did. How much farming do you have stick. And he always had them. And to do with toy tractors and imple- he would share. ments to impede the growth of grass along the paths they created? Obviously, Mom and Dad didn’t care a lick because at least the kids were occupied. They were not double-dog daring someone to do something dangerous, weren’t smoking dad’s cigars out back, or setting the cats on fire. What was not to like about a few paths worn in the grass? For a kid out in Nowhere-Land who didn’t get to town a lot, a Slo-Poke sucker was the living end. It was big. It was delicious. And we didn’t have to share with our siblings—we each had our very own slice of heaven to unwrap and devour. And we could eat it whenever that truck came, regardless of when dinner or supper would be. It was kind of a big deal whenever someone did find themselves in our yard. Some of those visitors were the landlord and landlady, neighbors, the milk man, the school bus driver, and the grocery truck guy. Yes, a grocery truck used to navigate the gravel roads in Plymouth County, and it was always fun to see what treasures were inside the truck when he opened those big blue doors. It was Looking back now at all those times we greeted Mr. Bullington, I wonder if he used those suckers more like mail carriers use dog treats — to keep dogs occupied and away from their ankles. Or maybe he just liked having kids come to greet him. After all, it took a while for the barrels to fill, and he was stuck there until they were filled. like a wonderland on wheels to us I shudder to think of the stories we kids. must have told him while he waited.

Our mail carrier would visit at the I once heard of a teacher who spoke end of our lane daily, and would treat at a kindergarten round-up meeting us to sticks of gum whenever we were and said, “If you don’t believe most of there waiting for him. There were a what your child tells you about me, I lot of us kids, and I suppose his won’t believe most of what your child expensive gum-buying habit may have tells me about you.” to have been explained to his wife on She probably heard that line from occasion. our gas man first.

One of our biggest thrills was seeing He probably knew more stories the gas truck come into the yard. The about us than Mom’s hairdresser … truck was huge (as a child remem- who never brought her scissors and bers) and it made a lot of racket com- hair dryer to the farm, but who may have also been hired on occasion to creatively remove a Slo-Poke sucker from someone’s hair.

Karen Schwaller brings “Table Talk” to The Land from her home near Milford, Iowa. She can be reached at kschwaller@evertek.net. v