I was 12 when my mom let me use a sharp knife to snap beans grown in dad's unreasonably large family garden. She taught me to nestle the smooth end in my palm, extending my pointer finger on the back of the blade.
"After you snap the ends, cut the beans in half and set them in the collander," mom instructed while Nana slid her eyes up to peek at me.
"It's time to cool off," mom would periodically announce. Nana, Lisa and I would set the beans aside and jump into the pool.
The neighbor boys would come swim, standing shoulder to shoulder at the pool's edge while my brother, in his cowboy hat up on dad's shoulders would shoot his toy gun at the boys. "Pow! Pow!" One by one the boys would fall into the pool like a row of dominoes.
A bird sat outside the fence eating dad's blueberries through the netting.
My brother was 2 by then, sucking his two middle fingers at nap time and wearing his blankie thin.
We girls would get back to the business of the beans, our swimsuits dripping through the wide, scratchy chair webbing.
The new owners have long since filled in the pool, covering it with grass. I can't imagine not wanting your pool.
Even dad, who couldn't swim proper enjoyed the pool, flopping and splashing frantically as he grasped the pool's edge moving slowly down the length of the pool.
Uncle Bill had to rescue him one time. Dad lost his grip of the edge and began to plunge toward the hopper. Uncle Bill tossed his large, bulky video camera to the ground and rescued his brother.
People today won't understand how rare a video camera was the the 70s. People today have a video camera perpetually in the palm of their hand.
Yesterday somebody somewhere dropped their video camera (phone) from an airplane as they were jumping out. The phone filmed sky and earth in rotation until it landed with a thud in a pig sty at which point it kept filming nothing but blue sky until an enormous pig's face appeared. The thing recorded the pigs until a farmer's face appeared. The farmer posted the video, it went viral within hours and the owner retrieved his phone. Hi Ho the Dairy-O.
Mom would carry our snapped beans into the knotty pine, dark kitchen and rinse them well, all the while humming a tune or listening to Jim Nabors singing from a 5 foot long walnut stereo system. She would boil those beans forever, blowing her steamy bangs off her forehead, having loosened them from her bandana. It was a fancy bandana, don't get me wrong. Probably called a kerchief back then. Mom would cringe hearing me call it a bandana.
As I snap beans 51 years later with my brother's daughter, at my brother's house, I smile at fond memories and make a note to ask my sister-in-law if he still sucks his fingers in the night. I'm told he still has his blankie. I toss the beans in heated oil for 8 minutes, pour some soy sauce and rice vinegar on them and sprinkle them with ginger. I blow the bangs out of my eyes.
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