COUNTRYSIDE YARNS
Tall Tale or Truth? You Decide!
Jackson & Annie McFrie
The Foster Care Years, Part 3
by Janis Stein

Join in the continuation as Jackson, with his bones stiff from the cold, decided to light a bonfire on Mama’s living room floor while Annie watched.

So bad was their breath, Mama bought the McFrie’s pink and white mints, bag after bag. Mama merely shook her head when she saw Jackson pop a mint into his Skoal container, to keep it fresh, he said. Intrigued with the pair, Sammy and I made a game out of sneaking into their room daily to steal their mints. If they were asleep, being kids, we’d sometimes take our mischief one step further, moving Annie’s walker just out of reach.

If they awoke while our quick fingers dipped into their candy dish, Jackson and Annie would take to swatting us with their newspapers. If we got too close, they’d thump me and Sammy on the head with their grotesquely long and yellowish nails. We didn’t really want their mints, but we did like to hear them swear. No one in our house ever cursed except maybe Mama, and then only if she had a real good reason.

Jackson and Annie swore all the livelong day, and mostly at each other, too. Why, Sammy and I learned more cuss words during the first few weeks the McFrie’s took to living with us than we had in all of our childhood years put together. Many of the words were unmentionable, of course, and Sammy and I never repeated them, except later in confidence to each other.

Annie knew a string of cuss words longer than Jackson, which intrigued us even more. Sammy would become near hysterical with fits of giggles when Annie would get mad at Jackson and yell, “Shut up, you old coot!” Of course, most times, she used worse words than “coot.” This cussing banter went on all day, every day, and I thought Mama would surely wear her rosary out praying for the pair.

I couldn’t understand how Jackson and Annie could be married 65 years, what with all the fighting and yelling at each other. Mama suspected maybe some folks just communicated differently. Over time, I could see Mama’s point. I thought it was kind of neat that, even though they were mad at each other, each spoke for the other to make sure their spouse had all that was needed. If Annie needed something, she never asked Mama directly, rather, Jackson called to Mama, saying Annie needed this or that. If Jackson had an accident, Annie called for Mama on his behalf. Love, it seemed, took on a whole different shape for the McFrie’s.

When Jackson wasn’t yelling at Annie, it was Sammy and me he directed his attention. Of course, it might be we brought some of it on ourselves. If Jackson caught us stealing his mints, the McFrie’s would both come alive, yelling, “You little heifers, get out of here!” Being town kids, neither one of us was quite sure what a little heifer even was, but by the look on Jackson’s face when he said it, we could be certain it wasn’t good!

The McFrie’s gave Mama a hard time, in general, but Mama would not be deterred. She grew more determined to make Jackson and Annie feel our home was theirs, at least during the first six months of their stay, including them in our family dinners when each special holiday came to pass. We tried to include them in everything, but they simply weren’t all that interested.

Angry is what they were. Angry the state decided it was the state’s business on how they should live, when all that Jackson really wanted was to return to his beloved ramshackle house by the creek in his woods. Annie seemed to adjust a bit better to our O’Malley clan, though in fairness, it must have been hard for them to be surrounded by so many children when they had grown quite used to swearing at only each other.

While tired-looking Annie seemed to enjoy being served three meals a day without worry of what to cook or how to stay warm, Jackson decided he’d had enough. He missed his home.

One night Jackson awoke in the wee hours, his old bones stiff from the cold. An independent fellow still, Jackson decided he’d make a fire like he did when he was home and proceeded to break apart Mama’s living room furniture, stacking it just so, right in the middle of the floor. Jackson smiled to himself as the wood began to crackle. He’d be warm for sure before long.

Mama awoke to the smell of smoke and, following her nose, dashed to the source. In one quick swoop, Mama surveyed the scene, her broken furniture yielding an impromptu bonfire on her living room floor. Jackson held his hands out, warming them, while Annie looked on, standing behind her walker and smiling in appreciation. Jackson had done well. Her bones ached with the cold, too.

Though stunned at the sight, Mama didn’t remain inactive for long, summoning the oldest of my brothers from their sleep. Papa was in the city working and she would rely on her sons to help right the matter. Mama explained to us that Jackson was likely having an episode of sorts, and perhaps thought he was back in the woods. As we children salvaged what was left of Mama’s furniture, Mama led the McFrie’s back to their room. Only this time it was Mama who gave them an earful for almost burning down our house.

Mama had had about as much of the McFrie’s as she could take. She told Jackson and Annie right then and there, if they wanted to go back to their home, she would only be too happy to drive them. At last, Jackson was going home.

Be sure to look for the conclusion next month when Mama decides to take Jackson and Annie on a road trip. Mama only did it once!

Have a yarn you’d like to share? We’d be happy to spin it. You may write to Janis in care of The Lakeshore Guardian, P.O. Box 6, Harbor Beach, MI 48441, or give us a call at 866-479-3448 to share your story.

© 2008 Stein Expressions, LLC