When I was a kid, my dad told my sister and me stories about his childhood. They were all funny. Here’s one we always laughed at. Dad was a much better teller than he was a writer, but I’m still happy to have a copy of this story written in his own hand. I actually adapted it in my book Chicken Charlie’s Year.
My sister Bernice is only five years older than me, but when I was five and she was ten, that made a big difference.
My sister Bea was the best swing builder in the whole world, or so I thought once.
“Sure I’ll make you a swing, Charlie. But it’s raining out, so I’ll have to make it in the basement. I’ll get some stuff and tie it to the heavy wood beans. Okay?”
Well about a half-hour later there was my swing, a bicycle tire and a kite string.
“See, Charlie, it’s a swing, only you can’t swing on it. Get it. It’s only to look at.”
“What good is a swing you can’t swing on?” I asked.
“Well, don’t swing on it.” She went upstairs then. You guessed it. I didn’t make one full swing and there I went on my behind across the basement floor. I ran holding my backside, hollering, “Ma! Ma! Ma!”
Copyright © 2019 Susan Manzke, All rights reserved