I told the little Murdo Girl it’s almost Easter, and what does she do? She writes about Christmas. I’m beginning to understand the “dangerously” mean, older brother. I want you to know, I’m really trying to resolve the situation, but I think I should wait until after Christmas.
STEPHANIE MILLER, KAREN LINDQUIST, AND ME ON EASTER SUNDAY
The lady that wants me to write all this stuff about growing up here in Murdo, wasn’t too happy when I showed her my paper about Christmas, so I won’t write much about Christmas for awhile.
You see that picture of us? Mom took it on our front porch, but as you can see, the sun was in our eyes. Poor little Karen. You can hardly see her.
Every year, we all get new dresses, hats, shoes, and sometimes a coat for Easter Sunday. I hate my new coat this year. It looks like it’s starched. I can hardly sit down with it on. I’ll probably be stuck with it for at least two years. I don’t know why my Mom and Aunt Elna had our hair cut so short either.
Oh well, Easter isn’t about clothes. It’s about Jesus giving his life for us, so we can live forever in heaven.
I want to tell you one thing about Christmas. It sort of has something to do with Easter because it has baby chicks in it… almost anyway. People sometimes buy their kids baby chickens for Easter.
Last year, I asked for an incubator for Christmas. I got one too. Mr. Herman Brost brought me some fertilized chicken eggs from his ranch. I only hatched one and it was deformed. It only lived three days, and I wasn’t there when he died. Mom told me when I got home from school. When I asked her if I could bury him, she said she had already cremated him. I guess she did because I found him in the burn barrel. I God blessed him.
Next, Mr. Brost brought me some sparrow eggs. Have you ever seen a baby sparrow? Well, they all started hatching in the middle of the night. They were so ugly and they kept hatching and hatching and squawking. I started screaming at the top of my lungs. Dad came running into my room. He took the whole thing out and told me my hatching days were over. That’s fine with me. It was a whole lot of work. I had to keep the moisture and the temperature just right and turn the eggs every day. One time when Mom and Dad had gone out of town, I stayed with my Aunt Ella and Uncle Al. My cousin Valerie and I had to climb through a bedroom window to take care of the eggs. Mom and Dad had accidentally locked the house up.
That night, after he tossed my incubator, Dad went back to bed and did like he does sometimes. He says I’ll beat you to sleep and then he pretends to be snoring. I hear him say, “I’m asleep.”
Back to Easter…Grandma and Grandpa are coming to our house for dinner after Church. We’re having ham. I don’t really like ham. I would rather go to Fern’s Cafe and have a hot beef sandwich. Pete Penticoff and his Mother Fern make the best hamburgers too. Dad even goes in sometimes and he hates to go to cafe’s. They’re probably not open on Easter Sunday anyway.
After dinner, Billy and I have to do the dishes. I wash and then he dries. He won’t come and dry until I’m done washing. Mom said that when Billy dries, the dishes stand in the cupboard and cry. One night, I decided to be nice and dry the dishes too and put them away. I went out to the living room where he was laying on the couch and told him the dishes were ready for him to dry. After he saw that I had done it all, he came back to the living room. He got all mad because I made him get up for nothing, and now Mom was laying on the couch. The good part was, she made him sit on the end of the couch and rub her stinky feet.
Mom said onetime when Billy was little, she ran out of hard-boiled eggs, so she just let him color uncooked ones. My cousin Terry got one and Aunt Emily wasn’t too happy about it.
Okay, I have to go now. I was just thinking. I wonder if I could accidentally spill something really bad on my coat.
I don’t know who this is, but she must be getting ready for Easter Sunday