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Author’s note: In this mostly true tale our hero is a naïve young boy who misunderstands several things he overhears. That’s why several words and phrases are deliberately wrong. Contains no graphic sex or heavy romance. Characters under 18 only engage in innocent hugs or hand holding. Like the 1960’s this story includes racism, alcoholism, and tobacco use; all portrayed in a negative light. There is also a mildly disturbing but humorous scene involving menstruation. If any of that would bother you, please read something else.

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In a small southeastern town, USA 1960

It was a really good day! Gramma made me sketti and meballs! I never got sketti at home! I watched her dump the can in a pot, then my big sister Kimmy took me down to the basement to play. Kimmy scattered a bunch of plastic aminals around the basement and got a big toy dump truck out of the toy box. I pushed the toy truck around, making “Vroom” noises as I went around picking up giraffes, dogs, chickens, and other aminals. I was almost four and my big sister was eight. To me, she was nearly a growed-up. Sometimes Kimmy was wiser than my parents.

I didn’t understand most of what I overheard as Mommy talked to Gramma upstairs. “I really don’t feel like it anymore. We don’t want any more kids, but he keeps making me do it. He says if he doesn’t get it at least every other day, it makes him crazy. Sometimes he…” She started crying.

I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was sad that Mommy was sad. Kimmy walked around the basement, distracting me by scattering the aminals again. I saw a few tears on her face, but she said; “Good that you got ’em all. Pick ’em up again and make their noises this time.”

“Vroom!” I picked up a cow. “Moo!”. I took a few steps saying, “Vroom!” then picked up a dog. “Arf arf! Vroom!” I picked up a turtle and didn’t know what noise they made.

I overheard Gramma tell Mommy, “Well, you have to keep him happy somehow. It’s disgusting, and it’s a sin, but try …” She whispered something I couldn’t hear, then continued. “He might mess around with a nagga, but he won’t stay with one. At least it’s not like he’s cheating with a kraut that he might run away with.” Mom and Gramma hated naggas and krauts, just like they hated jabs. Gramma’s brother wasn’t around anymore, ’cause he was a earo. He flew a hairplane in a war, and the jabs took his life away from him. I didn’t know any, or what they looked like; but jabs, krauts, and naggas sounded really bad to me.

But I got sketti! It was a happy day! Kimmy got my sketti and meballs from upstairs and closed the basement door. She sat me in her lap and started feeding me. I wanted to be a big boy, so I took the spoon and got some sketti on my own. I did it! Only a little bit went on my shirt, and it was SO YUMMY! I loved sketti!

Several months later, on the morning after I turned four, I woke up and was eager to go outside and ride my new trike. My big sister left for school and Daddy walked out of the bathroom. Mommy was crying and spit in the toilet, then threw up. Daddy said, “That was great, honey! Thank you!” He put on his shoes, then went to work as Mommy sat on the bathroom floor making bad faces. Mommy gargled with mouthwash and smelled all minty. It wasn’t Sunday, but she told me we had to go to church. It wasn’t like all the other times I’d been to church. There were only two old ladies praying in the front, and a priest. Mommy told me, “I have to go do confession. Sit here and be quiet. I’ll be back soon.” It seemed to take a long time and was so boring! But on the way home I got ICE CREAM!

A few days later Mommy came home with a new kind of drink, in a blue glass bottle.