Hi everyone and Happy Easter! I’m doing the traditional smoked pork butt that is braised for the last few hours. I’m also doing smoked bean pots beans and smoked red potatoes with garlic, onion and bacon. What do I mean that these things are traditional at Easter? Well, all traditions have to start somewhere and I like smoking food, so there! As always, hit that heart shaped button, hit the circle to restack my piece for other Substackers to read. You can even hit the button and leave a note as to why those people need to read my stories instead of the doom and gloom they all read.
There is a theme swirling around some of the Northern Rocky Mountain States legislatures including our own here in Montana. Those elected to represent us feel that using federal dollars to feed hungry children at school and, in some cases during the summer, is unnecessary and even un-American, nay perhaps Communistic. In Montana’s case, the excuse the Executive branch came up with was that the paperwork to receive the money was too burdensome. (As we approach Tax Day I do enjoy the irony of the government complaining that some paper work is too hard to fill out.) The outcry during the upcoming election season at the time made the paperwork easier (it was like magic) so now kids who have nothing to eat or, more importantly to the government, who have no money to pay for something to eat will be able to have lunch at school, at least in Montana.
At any rate, as I was torturing myself reading about the Idaho legislature and their very Christian attitude towards children and food during Holy Week, I remembered a story from the not-so-distant past.
I can’t recall why I was coming home so early on this particular day but I do remember it was during calving season. In Montana, at least out in the country, we have a habit of using an informal calendar based on the work that is done at that time of year. There is Calving Season, Irrigation Season, Branding Time, Fair Season, Sale Time, Christmas, … well, you get the idea. We were still living in the Blue Trailer on the Wormser Loop then, so I didn’t worry about calving. I did feel sorry for the ranchers who were in the middle of it. You could tell who they were when you met them in town. Blurry eyed, unshaven, shirts buttoned wrong, coveralls smelling of antiseptic and stale colostrum. They needed some sleep in the worst way and eventually they would get it. An efficient breeding schedule clumps most of the cattle together in a big group so most of the calves show up all at once. Not knowing what the future held for me at the time, I was grateful I didn’t have to deal with it. It was an innocent, care free time in my life.
As I pulled into our long driveway, I noticed Kerry’s car wasn’t there. I tried to remember if she told me she was going somewhere but couldn’t come up with anything besides the fact that it was Early Out Day. That was the day the kids came home early, and the teachers did some continuing education work. Maybe Kerry took the kids somewhere when they got home. I pulled up to my spot next to the porch and went inside where I was startled by the presence of someone. I say “someone” but what I mean is I was startled by someone’s butt sticking out of my open refrigerator. Once I recovered my composure, I recognized the butt.
“Joe?”
“Hi John. Do you have any mayo?” He said without pulling his head out of the fridge.
“Yeah. It’s on the door.”
“Oh yeah. Thanks.” Joe took the mayo, bread, baloney, and sliced cheese and placed them on a plate. Carrying a can of pop under his chin, he went to the table and sat down. Producing a butter knife from his back pocket he began to make a sandwich. He was the model of sandwich efficiency.
Joe was a ranch kid from up on top of the mountain behind us. We got to be friends with his mom and dad and our kids all played sports together. I found the two boys’ easy-going attitude about life to be laudable and very funny, and this episode was sort of typical of them.
“Do you want a sandwich?” Joe asked as he devoured his.
“No thank you. Say Joe, do you know where Kerry and the boys are?”
“Yes, I do! Kerry took Jack and Mike to the orthodontist.”
“I see. So where is your brother?” I glanced in the pantry to grab some potato chips for Joe and see if his brother was in our stash of cookies.
“Oh, my mom picked him up early too, but I don’t know why. She said to take the bus home.”
“OK. So why are you here?” I asked, placing the chips in front of him.
“Well, I think dad forgot it was early out day because he is calving. I waited at the bus stop for a while and then decided to cut across the pasture and come here to use the phone. I called up to the house but there was no answer. Then I got hungry and figured you wouldn’t mind if I made a sandwich. You don’t, do you?”
“No, not at all.” I was grateful there wasn’t a ham in the fridge because I was pretty sure Joe would cook it to perfection.
I picked up the phone and called Scott, Joe’s dad, but I didn’t get an answer either. I left a message telling him where Joe was and then turned to my newly acquired boarder. I need to come up with a plan or this kid would eat all my baloney.
“Joe, have you done your homework?”
“No,” Joe groaned. “I just have math to do.”
“OK, finish your sandwich and let’s get started on that. I’ll help you if you need it. If your dad hasn’t shown up by the time you’re done, I’ll drive you up the mountain.”
“OK.”
Fortunately, Joe didn’t need any help with his math homework. He probably knew more about it than I did. His dad hadn’t shown up so I gave him one more call, but it was no use.
“He could be pulling a calf or something,” Joe said and he was right. I loaded him and his backpack in the truck and up the hill we drove. I always liked this drive. When you break out on top there is a wide valley in front of you with the snow-covered Crazy Mountains as a backdrop. In the spring the grassy hills would be bright green. Cows, antelope or horses would be wandering around. When the sainforn bloomed at Scott’s place in summer the horizon was bright pink with their flowers just waiting to be hayed.
Joe was chatting away about all the stories from school but I was missing most of it. I was sure we would be meeting his dad on the road but there was no sign of him. He was now about three hours late to meet the bus and I was getting worried. Alone up here, he could be hurt or stuck in a ditch. As I pulled up in front of Joe’s house we could see his dad’s pick-up sitting there.
“I wonder where dad is?” Joe quietly said. He was worried too. We both were relieved to see Scot come flying out the front door, boots untied while pulling on his Jacket. He saw us and stopped dead in his tracks and just sagged his head. We both got out of my outfit and I waved.
“Hey Scott. I have an abandoned child who says he lives here!”
“I am so sorry, John. I went to take a nap on the couch after lunch and didn’t wake up until a minute ago. Then I realized it was an early out day so I had missed the bus by three hours. I hoped the boys were smart enough to go to your house.” Scott stopped as Joe walked by and went in side. He looked at me with a confused look.
“Where’s my other one?”
“Oh, Joe says your wife picked him up at school to go somewhere but he didn’t know what they were doing. Joe has had something to eat, and all his homework is done. I hope the math is right. It’s not my best subject.”
“Oh hell,” Scott laughed, “I wouldn’t know if it was right or not!” He reached out and shook my hand. “I appreciate you taking care of him. We always tell them that if something happens and we don’t show to go to your house and wait.”
“It was no problem. He is a good kid. I’ll be seeing you.” I turned and climbed back in my pickup.
“Hey John!” Scott yelled. I rolled down my window and stuck my head out. “How much did he eat? We are heading for some groceries at the end of the week.”
“I’m not sure Scott. I was busy keeping my hands and feet away from him, so I didn’t get bit. So long!” Scott put his hands on top of his head in mock embarrassment and laughed.
I backed up and turned to go home. Scott and Joe were waving in my rearview mirror. I turned east at the county road and drove slowly home to enjoy the view.
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Another great story, John! Can I come for Easter dinner?