Fond Memories

Do you know the Station Man, the Station Man, the Station Man?
Nancy and I sang these words to the tune of "Do you know the Muffin Man?" We were about six years and three years when we first moved to the red house. That's when Daddy and his father opened the service station.

By the time we attained the grand ages of nine and six, we had developed the quaint little habit of going to the restroom together. It only seems unusual looking back; at the time it was the most natural thing in the world for one of us to sing and/or dance in order to entertain the other one who was sitting on the toilet. The outer edge of the white enameled tub was several inches wide, as I remember it. So we took turns standing up on the edge of the tub to dance along and sing the "Station Man" song. As we danced, we waved one of Daddy's station hats to add interest.

I don't remember ever hearing Mom yell to us, "You girls better get down before you break a leg or arm!" Of course, by this time our third sister had made her appearance, so Mom was probably quite busy in the absence of a dishwasher, a clothes dryer, permanent-press clothes, etc.

But she always made a point to remind us when it was time for our father to be home. When she heard the pick-up door slam, she called out, "Daddy's home!" There then ensued a race to the front door, with two of us yelling at the top of our lungs, "Daddy's home! Daddy's home!" He held out his arms with big hugs for each of us and then turned to Mom, most likely with Vicky in her arms, to greet her with a big smooch.

As I remember times like these, I can't help but wonder what Mom remembers....Does she have pleasant memories at times, or are they all gone? The disease is infuriating, as well as heart-breaking. I think I'll talk to her about our time at the red house the next time I am with her. That makes me smile. Maybe I can get a smile from her!