Post by goblins on Oct 28, 2022 23:25:14 GMT
Never known one family to have so much tragedy and heartbreak.
When I was a child, a Russian family lived about a half a mile
from me. There was the father, a slender built man with a scrubby chin beard,
the mother, a plump, gentle woman who always wore a scarf tied with a knot
under her chin, and a houseful of children.
They, like many families in the area, including mine, were dirt poor.
The daughters in the Russian family were all very beautiful and the sons were
all built strong and healthy,
........except for George. George had polio when he was young
and it left him unable to walk. He managed to get around by crawling on all fours. He
frightened me when they came to visit. He would crawl from the backseat of the car,
across the yard, and up our steps where my mother held open the door. I admit when I
think about it now, Lon Chaney as the Wolfman comes to mind.
The father ruled his family with an iron fist doing very little in actual physical labor
himself, but the wife and children kept everything going.
They raised turkeys.
Alongside of their children.
In their shack of a house.
No matter the season.
Turkeys and babies.
When the father drank, he would tell stories of his homeland
and how much he loved Russia.
He would lift his glass and say,
"When I left Russia a thousand women cried and a thousand
men said get out of here you son-of-a-bitch."
