Country Gal/City Woman: Fireworks and Friendships

The Irish-Catholic family across the street from 210 Birch included Tootie, Tiny, twins Jack and Marty, and their Pop and Mom, Dan and Mary Maher.  Two older sisters, one serving her faith as a Nun, lived in another state, visited upon occasion.

Tiny (Eileen) was five years older than I and Tootie (Margarite) was ten years older, the twins about twelve years older...all were extremely talented writers from an early age. The Maher home was my shelter and refuge when I knew there was no winning a "childhood skirmish" at 210 Birch being outnumbered by in-residence nieces and nephews... Bus, Peggy, Glee and Wayne who had no idea, back then, who would have the last word...like this Blog!

It did not take long for any of the Maher Four to realize how bashful and gullible I was, taking  visceral delight in feeding on those particular characteristics of mine. I had only to open and shut the back door of our humble home to hear--"Here comes the Peanut!" ...  secret code amongst those Four to get ready to "ignore, commiserate, pincurl my blonde locks or share a batch of peanut-butter cookies."  Those kids could really multi-task!   They were great at conspiracies, too! 

Jack and Marty were college students, majoring in Journalism at the University of Iowa.  When they were home for the "breaks," their favorite pastime, when spotting my innocent self skipping across the tarred street, was to "set me up!"  No sooner would I open their back screen door then they would, in unison,  peel off their UI-logoed T-shirts.

The blush that swept over the whole four feet of me only served as inspiration for repeat performances of that ritual. Over a span of time, I thought I had successfully learned to ignore this most uncollegiate-like behavior, until the day they added the visiting two handsome Hildabrand brothers (John and Byron) from Iowa City to their modified impromptu-chorus-line-strip-tease routine. The truth??  Yes, I peeked, Duh....My now five-foot frame  still grows warm when I think of their "beguiling" antics, memories stored away in a very special place.

The two young men, whom I most adored next to my brothers, went on to become, to no one's great surprise, editors-owners of two outstanding newspapers in the state of Iowa, in West Branch and Carroll, and served their communities well. Sadly, I missed the final deadline of letting them know the "real scoop"...I loved their teasing! Somehow, deep inside, I know that Jack and Marty know what a blessing they were then, and now.  We Irish folk don't always have to put "stuff" into words; a full-bodied honest-to-goodness blush says it all!

Tootie awoke one fine summer morn determined that I should learn to swim at the Sunnyside Pool.  She, Tiny and I jumped into Shorty's (a family friend) one-seater jalopy and off we went, they ready to teach and I ready to learn how to tread water, if nothing else. I learned, when I was all of nine or ten years of age, that I could speak a Second Language, fluently, as did the pool full of swimmers.

This is how that afternoon unfolded: By pre-arrangement, it was decided that Tiny would stand in the middle of the pool. Tootie would swing me out to where Tiny would wait eagerly to teach and/or catch, as the case may be. After a couple of warm-up swings to build up the necessary momentum, Tootie finally decided to let go...except for one minor detail, I would have had my first swimming lesson without mishap.  

Tiny's attention was elsewhere (I learned later she was looking at Don, her newest conquest and future husband). With eyes wide shut, and semi-gracefully skimming through the air, I surmised Tooties' aim to be perfect in that I did land on target, in the water, with flailing skinny arms and legs, but no Tiny was waiting my tiny missile of a body. Down...down...down I went, thinking, okay, now what do I do? Don't know how to swim, can't tread water 'cause I am really, really submerged. Tiny is agog over Don, and I am in big trouble!

Fortunately, for me, it was the one time I chose to keep my lips tightly closed. After what seemed several hours (don't mock me here until you have tried it!), I decided I should cautiously open my eyes and look around to assess the situation. Lo, all I saw were strange bodies, strange legs and nothing, at all, of  body parts looking the slightest bit like anyone I recognized. So, what is Plan B?

Somewhere from far, far away, I could hear an exasperated Tootie yelling at Tiny and Don. I feel in my "gut" to this day, that Tootie was heartily howling when she finally jumped in to rescue her charge-to-keep...Mayme's youngest child. I never asked what prompted Tootie to finally become my personal lifeguard, but it may have had something to do with "answering to Mom!"

That was the moment Tootie and Tiny and half the swimmers in Atlantic discovered I could speak a Second Language, known far and wide today as "expletively speaking!" It must be noted that it wasn't that I was that well versed in expletives, it was my ability to be repetitive with the two or three (or four) words that was rather remarkable. To save themselves and my family future disbarment from the municipal swimming pool facilities, Tootie and Tiny shuffled me out of the immediate area, skipping the showers and changing stalls and with great haste, into Shorty's coupe for the three-mile ride home.

Instinct told me they just were not taking this swimming episode seriously at all 'cause sitting on Tootie's lap on the ride home, I could feel her mirth coming up from the depths of her tummy area.  As I bounced right along with Tootie, it came to mind that this was a story I would tell my grandkids one day...well, not really, but I sure wasn't going to tell my Mom anytime soon.  It would not have been pretty as much as she loved those two Maher girls!  After Tootie got up enough nerve, like much later, she told Mom of the pool episode and that I had great potential, but I don't think it was for swimming.  I have since added a few new words to my vocabulary but am working on that flaw as the occasion arises. 

This wonderful family captivated my wee heart from the moment I could cross the street all by myself. I was so childishly proud that Mary and Shanty (Daniel) trusted me to walk to the Railroad Depot where Shanty was employed to pick up his weekly paycheck, cash it at the Whitney Bank and walk home with the money that helped send Jack and Marty across the State of Iowa to the University of Iowa...Tootie and Tiny filled my summer days with picnics, hikes on Highway No. 6 to visit friends on their nearby farm, fashioning little girls out of a great abundance of Iowa hollyhocks and, oh, yes, more swimming lessons.

Jack and Marty, when I began my would be writing career at the tender age of ten years, checked my Jackson School English essays for content and composition when I finally got over my "in-bred" hesitancy to approach them on a higher academic level.  From my "second family" I learned a bit about Catechism during the summers, heard my first words of Latin when they would take me in hand to Father Pat's sanctuary; there is such a thing as making "beer in the bathtub," and when those two handsome Hildabrand Boys visted the Maher Family on the Fourth of July, replete with boxes of illegal fireworks, there was no better place to be than on the corner of Third and Birch in Atlantic, Iowa.

And, to this day, when I see in person or on television spectacular fireworks, I am thinking:  "Love is in the air!" 

Read previous Country Gal/City Woman posts:

Country Gal/City Woman: "Roll the Presses!"

Country Gal/City Woman: My Father the Hero