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| The Family Circle by Kenna Clayton Copyright@March 2007 Kenna Clayton |
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It was March when I left sunny California and went to visit my daughter and grandchildren in Minnesota. Soon after arriving the area was hit with a winter blizzard. Howling winds up to 70 mph, white out conditions, and snow coming down by the foot rather than by the inch. Most roads were closed; people were advised not to travel unless it was an emergency. The schools, city offices and such were all closed. I remembered back to when I was a child, snowed in at my parents� cabin. This was a time when we would sit back and relax, for the most part. There would be snow to shovel � so that we could get to the outhouse, as there was no indoor plumbing. We would have to make sure there was wood, brought in from the wood pile, for the wood stove; so that we would stay warm and have fuel for the wood cook stove. When not busy with those chores we�d sit and play Scrabble, Monopoly, or Rummy. If we didn�t play a game or listen to the battery operated radio, we�d tell family stories. I was sitting in the kitchen, trying to have a conversation with my daughter, which seemed an impossibility. She was more interested in complaining about the mounds of snow piling up and not being able to get to the grocery store. Plus her children were demanding her attention. Jimmy, a fifteen year old, was having a fit because he wasn�t going to be able to hang with his friends at the movie theater. Susie, who was sixteen, was fit-to-be-tied because her hair appointment got cancelled and her hair was going to look a wreck for the prom � providing there was a prom. Making it sound like if the prom was postponed it would be a national disaster. Jay (12) and Bill (8) were fighting over whose turn it was to be on the computer. No sooner did my daughter Rose, get these things settled then Susie and Jimmy were fighting over who got to play what on the Nintendo. Pete, Rose�s husband, came home from the office, which had been closed because of the weather, and was yelling about the weather, the idiots on the road, and the poor timing of Mother Nature. I decided it was time for me to go up to my room. As I was crossing the living room to go upstairs, Jay called out, �Where are you going Grandma?� �To my room?� �Why?� �It�s quieter.� I calmly said. He followed me up the stairs. �Sorry if we�re making you mad Grandma.� He said as I sat down on a chair in the guest bedroom. �It�s just this darn old storm, it�s got everyone cranky.� He climbed up on the Queen-size bed. �You�re not making me mad. Just thinking how times are so different now.� I said. �What do you mean?� He asked with a frown. �When I was your age, we thought being snowed in was sort of fun.� �Fun?� It looked at me as if I were daft. �Yes, fun.� I proceeded to tell him how, after the chores were done, we�d sit and play games, or tell stories. �What kind of stories?� he inquired. �Oh like the story my Grandma used to tell about a old Indian that ended up being their good friend.� �What about him?� The boy asked with interest; since he was part American Indian. Jay sat with wide eyed interest as I told the story. �My Grandma and Grandpa lived in Chelan, Washington. Now it�s a quiet little town in the Cascade Mountains. Back when they were in their prime it was a rather unsettled place, which was mostly populated with Indians. There was this Indian uprising and they were ransacking settlers� homes and killing them. Two Indians came busting into Grandma and Grandpa�s home. Grandma shot one with a rifle, they always had handy. Grandpa pinned the other one to the kitchen floor, through his jaw, with an axe.� �Really!� I thought Jay�s eyes were going to pop right out of his head. �Really� I assured him. �After it was all over, grandma nursed the old Indian back to health and they took the other Indian�s body back to the reservation for burial. As time went on the old Indian, who Grandpa always called Injun Joe, would sit together and laugh about the incident. Injun Joe would say �Yep, he gave me this old wicked scar, but if he hadn�t I�d of scalped him.�� �Great story!� said Jay. We could hear yelling coming from downstairs. Sounded as if Pete was getting mad at Jimmy for something he did � or should have done. �Need a good old fashion family circle.� I said. Jay asked, �What�s a family circle.� �It�s where the family gets together and spends quality time with each other. They talk � not yell, they play games, and tell stories. A way of bonding. Something people have forgotten how to do.� Jay solemnly nodded his head, slipped off the bed and went down stairs. I laid down on the bed and was almost asleep when Jay came tiptoeing in. �Grandma, you asleep?� �No honey. What do you need?� �I was wondering if you could come downstairs.� �Does Mom need me to help her?� �No.� He crossed his legs and played with his hair. Something he always did when nervous. I sat up. I could hear unfamiliar voices coming from downstairs. �Do you have company?� �Sort of,� replied Jay. �It�s our cousins and Uncle Mike and Aunt Judy. They�re heater quit working so they came over to our house.� I saw him bite his bottom lip, I knew there was something more he wanted to say. �And?� I prompted him. �I was telling them about how you use to spend time when snowed in and about the family circle. Mom�s making hot chocolate and Jimmy found some Uno cards. We thought you might like to join us.� �Great! Sounds like marvelous fun.� I slipped on my shoes and took Jay�s hand. We went downstairs. Rose had decided to put a batch of Turtle Brownies in the oven. We played a game of Uno while they were baking. When the brownies were done the family all gathered in the front room. Pete built a fire in the fireplace. Rose and I served warm brownies, with ice cream and hot chocolate. As we took our seat, Jay was saying that we could tell stories while we ate. He begged me to tell the Injun Joe story. So I did. This prompted Pete and Mike to tell of a time when an old drunk tried to assault their grandma, and their grandpa hit him over the head with a pitcher that was filled with pink lemonade. The pitcher broke, the drunk was knocked out, and laying in a pool of pink lemonade. We sat in a nice warm house, while the wind blew and the snow came down covering everything with a heavy white blanket of snow; one story after another came out and it was bedtime before we knew it. As Jay was saying goodnight, he said, �Grandma I like having a family circle.� The End |
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