When we are young, we take the stories our parents, grandparents and other relatives tell us for granted, especially when we are too busy for them. I wonder how many times I said, “Mamie, you’ve told me that story a hundred times!” practically annoyed that she didn’t know she was repeating herself (or she did know and just didn’t care). And now . . . oh boy. What I wouldn’t give for a chance to sit down with her and hear them all again. Well the story I’m about to tell was always one of my favorites growing up, busy or not, and involved Mamie herself as a child. And not a good little child that listens to her parents like she always wanted me and my siblings to be . . . but a stubborn little girl who deliberately disobeyed her father. As I imagine some of my favorite moments, I can hear Mamie reciting this story to me, as she did many times, and so I feel compelled to relay Mamie’s tale from her point of view and voice. I hope you enjoy it as much as me.
Mamie:
When I was about 5 or 6 years old, we had a cow that was going to have a little calf. Since I was so young, this was a new experience for me and I was really excited. I can remember asking my dad every day when the calf would be born and that I wanted to see it RIGHT when it was born. My dad kept telling me the same thing: “Any day now” and “We’ll see.”
I must have been worried he wouldn’t let me know when it was born, because from that point on, I went with him every time he went and checked on our cow. I kept praying I’d walk in with him and be the first to discover the new little calf, but every time I would see just our old pregnant cow. At some point, I went to go with him and he told me to wait inside because it was raining. And even though I wanted to go with him, little kids were supposed to mind their parents . . . and you didn’t dare cross dad. When he came back in I was waiting right by the door and eagerly asked him, “Is it here yet?” and he replied, “No, Mamie. You’ll be the first to know when the calf is born.”
So I waited. And waited. And waited some more. But I did not go with my dad to check on the cow anymore after that because it just rained and rained and rained. I swear it rained for nearly two days straight. I remember thinking “If that little calf ever does get here, we’ll have to row a boat over to the barn just to get to it.”
Finally, after the rain had stopped, my dad had just come inside and called my name. And, just like he promised, I was the first one he told . . . the calf was finally here! I was so excited and was halfway out the door when I realized Dad was still speaking to me. “You can’t go see it yet. You’ll have to wait.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “WAIT?? That’s all I have BEEN doing!” I thought to myself. But I knew we were about to eat lunch, so I just assumed that was why Dad wanted me to wait, so I left it alone for the time being. After lunch, I told dad I was going out to the barn to see the little calf and he said “No, you are not. With all the rain, it is just too muddy for you to go out to the barn today. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
I’m telling you, boy was I mad! I had been waiting days, and now my dad said I had to keep waiting! And all because of a little MUD?? Who cares about mud? I got muddy all the time, and it was never a big deal, so long as I didn’t track it through the house. Why was my dad all of a sudden making such a big t’do about some mud? When I told him I was going to go see it anyway, Dad got mad. He raised his voice and thundered, “Mamie, if so much as go near that barn I’ll tan your backside!” So I listened. I stormed off and pouted for a little while until I thought “I’ll show him! I’m not going to let a little mud stop me. I am GOING to see that calf!”
I waited until I knew Dad was busy with something else and I quietly slipped outside. I remember thinking “If Dad catches me, I’ll probably get a switchin’, but it would be worth it.” As I made my way toward the barn, I began to understand why Dad made such a fuss about the mud. I had never been in this much mud before. It made just walking quite the chore. The mud was so gooey that both my shoes came off about halfway to the barn. I thought about turning back, but when I looked back at the house, I could see my tracks, leading from the house all the way to where I left my shoes. Those tracks combined with how filthy my shoes looked made me realize there was no way I was getting away with this. Either Dad would catch me in the act or he’d see my tracks, or Mom would figure it out when she saw how muddy my shoes were. “I am in trouble whether I turn back or not,” I thought, so I kept going.
I was almost to the barn. A couple times, I thought I heard the baby calf mooing. The mud was getting very deep and making my journey difficult. Each step I took closer to the barn, closer to seeing that little calf, my feet squished deeper and deeper into the mud, until finally . . . I was stuck. I mean, REALLY stuck. I could not move. I tried literally pulling one of my legs out with my hands, but it was no use. As soon as I started to have a little luck with one leg, the other one would just plunge deeper into that mud. As I started to panic and wonder how I would ever get out of that mud, I couldn’t help but think of that funny line you’d sometimes hear at the end of a song, “Shave and a haircut, two bits! . . . Mud in the barnyard, knee-deep!” And as I looked down at my poor little legs, that was just about what I was: knee-deep.” I was in trouble. Deep trouble. KNEE-DEEP trouble.
I couldn’t believe it. I was so excited to meet that calf and had worked so hard to get out to that barn, sure to get into hot water with my dad, and now I wasn’t even going to get to see it. It was all for nothing. I was stuck, tired, mad, and my feet were cold. I imagined going out to the barn tomorrow to see the cow. It would surely be much easier since the mud would have started to dry up . . . only I probably wouldn’t be able to see the baby calf tomorrow because my dad was going to be so mad at me. “Why didn’t he take me out to see it?? Why wasn’t the calf born a few days ago?? Why did it have to rain so much?” Once had managed to avoid blaming every one and every thing but myself for the mess that I was in, I finally asked myself the right question . . . “Why didn’t I listen to my dad??” That’s when I started to cry. And it wasn’t a tender-hearted little whimper either; I bawled. I bawled and I bawled and you would’a thought somebody was beatin’ me to death the way I carried on. And then, without my even realizing, there was my dad, right by my side. He said in a quiet, but serious voice, “Mamie, I told you you were NOT to go out in this mud and try to see that calf.” I just kept bawling.
Dad reached down, grabbed me underneath my arms and pulled me out from my cold muddy trap with a sloshy squelch of a sound. He put me over one shoulder and I thought, “I’m in for it! He’s not even going to wait to get me inside first, he’s just gonna spank me right here and now in all my muddy glory.” I close my eyes and hugged my dad’s neck, part of me bracing for the discipline I was about to get, and the other part just thankful to be free from the mud. But Dad did not spank me. Instead, he started walking. Maybe he was going to get me cleaned up before he punished me; after all, he was covered in mud now too. Or maybe he was going to go and get a good switch. That was probably it. The palm of his hand was too good for me. I completely ignored his warning . . . I deserved worse than a spanking.
When my dad finally stopped walking, I still had my teary eyes shut and didn’t even realize where we were. He said, “Well here you are. Here’s what you’ve been making such a fuss over.” I opened my eyes to find we were standing just inside the barn. And there, only a few feet away, was the baby calf. I couldn’t believe it was not even a day old. It was bigger than I pictured, but I was shocked to find it already able to stand. It takes people almost a year to stand on their own, and yet a cow could do it as a newborn! It was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I gave my dad a hug, and we went back to the house, retrieving my muddy shoes along the way.
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Mamie had a lot of great stories; however she was not always the best storyteller. She told that story so many times, and every time I heard it, I learned a new detail as well as had to remind her of the parts she accidentally left out. But every time she told it, there were always a few lines that stayed constant, my favorite being, “I am GOING to see that calf!” As an adult, I can easily picture a little stubborn, 5-year-old Mamie going out and getting stuck in the mud, crying ’til her dad rescued her; but as a kid, I could only imagine a woman in her 60s, which gave me quite the chuckle. I remember asking her if she ended up getting in trouble later, but she didn’t remember. My wife and I were recently discussing this story, and she said how Mamie’s dad was probably just relieved to find her safe. I on the other hand, knowing how sneaky Mamie could be with me, have always wondered if in fact her dad had watched the entire thing go down, just waiting until she was good and stuck before going to her. I never got to meet Mamie’s dad, but had I ever, I would have LOVED to ask him for his version of the story.
And just to clarify, I always listened when Mamie told me not to do something . . .
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