Tim's Letter to Merida (Continued)
Great Uncle Will, Grandpa's brother, died during World War I. I understand he died of pneumonia while en route to Europe. I assume he died shipboard. He was on his way to fight in the Great War.
Grandpa Ryan did not like the name "Vincent". It seems his greatest enemy years ago was named Vincent. Because he hated the name so much he nicknamed our brother "V.J." The name stuck.
Uncle Neal would talk to us kids and was our favorite uncle. He'd tell us stories and play games with us. Of course, we didn't know that he had a few idiosyncrasies. He claimed he was part of a CIA test for LSD. I don't recall what his last military commission was.
Mom told us of the time Neal was bringing his fiancé home from overseas when they were detained in Norway. Apparently, Neal's fiancé was a Soviet spy. Neal would tell us how he could only talk about sports while working as a courier for the OSS, which preceded the CIA. He assumed all the hotel rooms he stayed in were bugged. We were all intrigued. I don't remember the last time I saw Neal. I read his letters over the years as he and V.J. became pen pals. (I think Neal thought of V.J. as some sort of soul mate.)
One day Dad made a comment concerning Neal's eccentricities to mom. Mom didn't appreciate it one bit and told him the story of how Dad's relative, a Turgeon, thought Grandpa Ryan had started World War I. Apparently, this Turgeon fellow came to the Ryan's house with a shotgun and kept the Ryans trapped for an afternoon. Dad didn't believe the story; however, this story was later confirmed by his parents.
Grandpa was a farmer, and much later was postmaster of the Kimball, South Dakota post office. One of the Ryan's sons, Jim, had a "hair raising" incident as a child. One day while visiting the Indian reservation, one of the Indians saw Jim and wanted to buy him. Jim had red hair and the Indians considered this lucky. As you can figure out, the sale was not made.
I don't know that much about Grandma. She originally came from Illinois. From what I can gather, Grandpa and Grandma carried on a long distance romance by mail. I think Grandpa may have proposed by mail. Mom told a story about Grandma's early life. When very young, Grandma traveled with her parents to Leadville, Colorado, where our Great Grandfather McGonigle started a saloon. Grandma Ryan claimed she made the trip by train drugged. Apparently, her parents gave her laudanum, an opiate, which kept her very quiet the whole time. Another story involved a forest fire. A raging fire had circled the entire region, and endangered their cabin. Holy water was sprinkled around the house and on the house to protect it. Except for a few singed logs, the house was the only object saved in the forest. All the surrounding trees were burned. Great Grandfather McGonigle made a lot of money and would have stayed; however, Great Grandmother McGonigle did not want any part of the Rockies. They moved back east.
Grandma had relatives that moved to Australia from the United States. They were barristers and I don't recall how they were related to her. They were probably her uncles.
Uncle Jack. Jack was a real character and a creature of habit. After Sunday mass, Jack would go to Cahill's Comer for a beer. I liked visiting the Brule County News because it had all those real old newspapers. He would show us around the place and demonstrate how each machine worked. Of course, the Linotype machine and the other mechanical dinosaurs soon became extinct when he got a computer. Before he married, Jack lived with Grandpa and Grandma Ryan. I remember seeing Jack's Purple Heart medal. Mom said he never told anyone where he got wounded, but figured it was in the butt.
Cousins. The cousins we knew were sons of either Johnny and Mildred Fox or Bill and Mavis Ryan. Come to think of it, both of these families had overactive kids. We didn't see them that often - maybe, once or twice if we were lucky. When Bill and Mavis moved to Billings we lost track of these cousins.
For fear of being repetitious, I won't dwell on any of my brothers or sister since they have their own stories. Very early on there were only a few kids in our family.
Terry, V.J., Barb and I slept in one bed. Three kids would sleep at the top of the bed and one kid would sleep at the base of the bed. Our bedroom was the bedroom that eventually became Barb's first bedroom. The boys' bedroom didn't exist and was locked. It wasn't until we started growing a little that Dad and Mom decided the boys needed their own bedroom.
Barb was a tomboy. She only wanted to play with boys. I don't recall many little girls living in our area, in fact, we all knew Barb was a tomboy. We played together a lot.
V.J. was always the "turkey." "Turkey" is a sadistic little game where V.J. would be the turkey, hide naked under a blanket or sheet, and we (Terry, Barb, and I) would beat him with either broom handles, mop handles, or anything else that inflicted pain. To this day I believe V.J. played this game because he was starved for attention.
I can still recall the time V.J. was considered the baby in the family, although I don't remember ever thinking of him in that way. V.J. always wanted to play with the rest of
the kids; however, for the most part we tried to avoid him because he was too young.
From my childhood, Terry stood out the most. This is probably because we were both twins and because we spent so much time playing together. I remember the day Terry and I got our bicycles. They were red, and I believe the name of the bicycle as either Indian Flyer, Red Flyer or something similar to that. Dad told us the bikes were an early Christmas present. Other kids in the neighborhood already had their bikes. Craig Pleinis rode an old, beat-up bike. We learned to ride bikes by borrowing Craig's bike. Normally, I crashed his bike attempting a stop. My feet could not reach the ground. Editors Note: They were Hiawatha bicycles - a popular bike sole by Gambles.
Anyway, the bikes added to our mobility. Now, we could travel all over town unworried about time.
Terry was my best friend while growing up. A lot of my earliest memories of Terry included the old sand box. The sandbox was a graveyard for toy soldiers. We would set up the Civil War soldiers in the sandbox, and blast them to oblivion with firecrackers. Little by little, the number of soldiers would diminish as they would mysteriously disappear after a particularly brutal attack.
As twins, Terry and I wore the same clothes. We played with the same toys. We played together with the same friends. Terry and I did everything together while growing up.
Perhaps the most exciting time in the Smith household occurred during Christmas. Who can forget the Christmas Clubs? Our prime mission was to find all toys left by Santa Claus. We planned our sneak attacks. We drew maps and had our own secret code.
During the club's first year, we had planned everything from locating gifts to dividing up responsibilities. It would have been perfect except V.J. wanted to play with all the new toys. He turned on the living room lights and began playing. We all freaked out. I remember getting so excited about Christmas that my sleep was rotten the week prior to Christmas. I thought Christmas Day was less exciting than the days preceding it.
My most disappointing Christmas happened when Santa Claus failed to bring me a leprechaun. On the night before Christmas, Dad told me he received a call from Santa. Santa did not go to Ireland; therefore, he would not be bringing me a leprechaun. I cried and cried. I may have been a second grader at the time. I had promised everyone gifts galore once I got my leprechaun. I couldn't look anyone in the face.
Normally, our bed time was 9:00 p.m., and Mom would give us bed-time candy (as a bribe) and sing to us as we climbed upstairs. Older kids will remember the pillow fights or the tug-of-wars we had in the boys' bedroom. Do you remember Mom's countdown when she got mad at us? I never heard Dad counting down; however, if he did I'm sure we would have all paid real close attention. I think his countdown ended at "one."
Our bedrooms were always messy. We pulled everything out of the drawers and just left it. Mom asked us to pick up our dirty clothes and toss them down the steps when she needed to wash clothes. Dad never went upstairs very often. One time he came upstairs (for what reason I still don't know). After viewing the tornadic mess, he ordered us to clean the upstairs. We cleaned it up; however, one problem remained. We couldn't hide a big, ugly mark on the wall. To hide this mar, someone placed a sheet of cardboard over it. A small table, located below the cardboard, had toy soldiers set up. The inspection finally came and Dad reviewed the whole upstairs as he would review his troops. We gave him a guided tour and he came to the boys' room last. Dad looked around to see if anything was out of place. He turned toward the table with the soldiers and noticed the cardboard anchored to the wall. He asked us why cardboard was on the wall. Quickly, Barb told Dad the box was our Sun, since we weren't allowed to paint anything on the wall. Dad didn't say anything, so I think he bought it.
I remember Dad liked two things: (1) hunting and (2) horses. As hunting season neared, Dad got more excited. I particularly remember one day when he prepared for a goose hunting trip. Dad had us turn off the lights in the living room so he could use his flashlight to show us on a map where we would be hunting. At a very young age, the boys would travel with Dad on his hunting trips to shag the game he shot. (This was before we got our dog, Smoky.) In fact, the last images I have of Dad concern hunting. Dad, V.J., and I hunted together in October of 1978. After that, V.J. and I left for Colorado.
Dad loved to go to the horse tracks, and this was before he bought Miss Hyground or any other horse. I got lost one day at the tracks in Aberdeen. I couldn't find Dad or anyone else I recognized. Finally, some man took me up to the administration office and I waited there. They brought me ice cream. I gave them Dad's name and it was announced over the loudspeaker. Dad came to the office a bit embarrassed.
If you recall, Dad was a bit overweight. We always thought he looked like a sumo wrestler. Dad would always suck in his belly whenever he met anyone. I remember one time asking Dad if he ever thought about going on a diet. He said he had; however, he told me he decided against it. After all, he said, he might get hit by a car or a train. If he did get in an accident, he figured he would not be upset by the fact he was bleeding or dying. Rather, he would be upset that he didn't eat the extra piece of banana cream pie the night before.
There were only two times I remember Dad ever teary eyed. The first time was when he came back from Phoenix. He was gone several weeks, although it seemed much longer. I think he was glad to be home. He brought me a box with Arizona rocks. (This was before Terry and I really got involved in collecting rocks.) The other time Dad showed this type of emotion happened during his 25th anniversary when he received the silver tray from the kids.
Rock hunting. Dad loved the outdoors and I think that's why this hobby had particular appeal to him. Plus, who knows when one might find the Hope Diamond out there on the prairie. Two amusing stories about Dad come to mind here.
First, I remember looking for agates in the Teepee Canyon of the Black Hills. Getting a bit overheated, Dad took his pants and shirt off. There was Dad in his white underwear, white t-shirt, straw hat and a pair of boots out there looking for agates. From a distance, we could see a car approaching and Dad scurried to find a hiding spot. Unfortunately, there were few boulders large enough to hide him.
Another famous episode occurred near Glendo, Wyoming. Dad accidentally happened upon a rattlesnake and took off running. I don't remember him ever running so fast. I think Dad enjoyed these outings because it gave him a chance to be with his boys.
Amazing as it sounds, I can still remember when we did not own a TV set. Mom and Dad bought one because they enjoyed the wonderful Christmas specials they saw while visiting Grandpa and Grandma Ryan. Mom said the year they got their TV there were no Christmas specials.
Mom. the younger sisters do not know Mom like I knew her. Years ago she had a lot of energy. I do remember her smoking and drinking lots of coffee. It seemed her goal in life was to find the easiest way to make and keep hot coffee. I think the air pot probably solved most of her problems. Anyway, I remember Mom running after us outside or chasing after us when we got into trouble. I remember her climbing a tree to retrieve the baby birds after one of the neighbor kids shot the mother bird.
Mom liked to dance. Dad didn't.
Mom would always walk downtown to do her shopping. She always liked to go on Saturday afternoon. As you will all remember Mom didn't learn how to drive until after Dad died. I think Steve tried to teach her, but he gave up and refused to do it. Mom asked me to train her. I don't remember getting too scared, although she had a different way of handling the car then most people.
Mom walked downtown wearing a winter coat in mid summer. I don't know how long she had the old green coat. The first coat I remember Mom wearing was made of fake hair. The last time I saw that coat, it was lying on the floor in the room where we kept all the school desks. The cat used her coat for kitty litter.
As a little kid, I bugged mom while she read. I kept asking her to tell me what word site was reading. She would do so until she got mad. There were times when she would get impatient because we asked so many questions. We always felt she knew the answer; however, I think answering questions tired her out.
I still remember her explaining the facts of life. Of course, we were too young to understand what she was talking about. Instead of telling a cute story, Mom actually explained, the process. However, I was still confused. I told Dad how Mom explained where female babies come from. However, I couldn't figure out how men had male babies. Dad told me to talk to Mom.
For a period of time, I thought babies were created by a process similar to spontaneous combustion - that is, you never knew when or how you'd get pregnant. I remember Mrs. Goltz talking to Mom and Dad about some person having a child out of wedlock. They all sounded absolutely appalled. Nobody wanted to explain the facts of life to me. In fact, Dad said it just happens. I told him it was a good thing that the person who got pregnant wasn't a nun.
Mom was not a drinking woman, (although a certain priest thought otherwise). In fact, the most I ever saw Mom drink was at my graduation from SDSU. Mom was killing the pain from a fall she had several weeks before. Apparently, she fell off the kitchen counter.
I believe Steve was the first kid to get drunk. One day at the Ryans' house, Steve lapped spilled wine on the floor. Grandpa Ryan forgot to tighten the cap on one of his bottles. Steve slept well for the next several days.
It took a lot to get Mom all fired up. I don't believe ever saw a time when she became overly angry. The first time I remember seeing her upset was after Dad teased her about a burned roast beef she had made. She ran into the bedroom. Later, Dad told us not to say anything about her cooking. We didn't.
If I spent more time, I could probably recall other events in my early childhood. However, someone else will write about those topics. If I use catch phrases such as "The Gnome," "Where's my Hay," "Where's my shiny penny," "The world's smelliest fart" (also known as the Christmas fart that spread around the world), and other phrases I am sure you would all remember the circumstances. However, I will leave those topics for someone else to chronicle.