Chapter 2 ~ Bootsie, the Cat

Maybe now would be as good a time as any to explain one or two tiny differences between Carmon and me.   For one thing, he was never a cat person and, as a result, we never had one as a pet during all our years together.  For another thing, he was a country kid through-and-through. 

He was born on a farm in Carroll County, Missouri.  Even though his mother moved the family to Mesa, AZ a few years after his father’s death, he never ceased being a farm boy.  I knew that about him before I married him, of course.  What I didn’t know and couldn’t have foreseen was the impact this was to have on my life. 

Mesa was a small town in the 1940’s and 1950’s.  Carmon and his family lived in a little house on the west end of town.  He started school at the old Alma School in 1945.  Because of Arizona’s temperate climate, kids can go barefoot almost year round.  I guess if it weren’t for school starting, many kids would do so even today.  But school didn’t stop Carmon.  He once told me that he used to put on his shoes dutifully every morning and walk to the bus stop.  As soon as he as out of sight of his house (and of his sister, Dotty, who was his primary care giver), he’d take off his shoes and hide them in the bushes.  Then he’d get on the bus and ride to school.  At the end of the day, he’d pull the shoes out from under the bush, put them on, and walk home.  I don’t know how long this went on before his mother figured out what was happening, but it took a phone call from the school to put her wise. 

In truth,  Carmon and school were not always on the best of terms.  When he graduated from high school, instead of the principal’s saying “Congratulations” when he handed Carmon his diploma, he said, “Buntin, I never thought you’d make it.”  This didn't phase Carmon; he just grinned and replied, “Brimhall, neither did I!"

Carmon spent his free time shooting birds with his homemade flipper, swimming in the canal, snitching watermelons out of the neighbor’s garden, catching crawdads and waterdogs in the ponds, and, of course, fishing.  He and his friends would float in inner tubes down the Salt River long before it became the pastime that it is today.   It was an idyllic life, one straight out of Mark Twain.   I remember his frequently saying that he had a very happy childhood. 

I never doubted it.

© Gebara Education, 2001.  No portion of this book may be copied by any method without the express written permission of the author.   

Picture of cat from http://popularscreensavers.com    
Picture of 2 little farmers from http://oatmealand whimsy.blogspot.com
Picture of children with feet dangling from http://mykidsfootdoc.blogspot.com
Picture of school children in the 1940s, and the Salt River, both from http://wikipedia.com