I spoke with my sister this morning, which is nothing new because we call each other almost every morning. I can’t live without my Doodie. We were laughing and reminiscing about our summers together without our older brothers. “Where were those guys anyway,” we wondered? Mike was at A&M and Paul must have already started working. In any case, we were home alone to fend for ourselves while Dad and Mom went to work. We thought about it some more and came to the conclusion that I was 7 or 8 and Doodie was 11 or 12. We had the worst time with each other then because we were always fighting for one reason or another and ALWAYS calling Dad on the phone–practically every five minutes!
The whole reason this conversation even came out is because MY children Jared and Evie were in the kitchen fighting and jumping on each other over a piece of paper! I made the comment to Doodie that now I understand why Dad would get so enraged every time he had to deal with us. Can you imagine his fury every time we called him on the phone at work? The poor man was just trying to get through the day and he had to deal with our constant bickering and phone calls.
I remember our rotary telephone (avacado green was a popular color then) used to be in the middle of the hallway on a little inset ledge, sort of like the “art walls” builders incorporate into new home designs now except this was specifically for the telephone. I can vividly remember standing there crying to Dad about DD. I can vividly remember seeing DD at the phone complaining about me. Ha-ha. I can vividly remember seeing Dad pull-up in his green Chevy pick-up not fifteen minutes later and walk up the driveway to the house PISSED OFF. Boy he would set us straight for another fifteen minutes before he returned to his job–and his lectures usually worked on us, until we had to spend the next day together and it would all start up again. Ha-ha! Those were the good ol’ days. I’d give anything to live with my sister now, or at the very least in the same town. Love you, Doodie!