MARRIED... Winter woes Part 49l)
There was very little traffic on that road, especially at that time of morning. The first two cars that came by did stop and when they saw my car in the field they couldn’t believe it made it down there without touching the side of the hill or without flipping. The guy who originally stopped suggested that we go back to the gas station and see if the owner lived in the house right behind it. Just as I knocked on the door it opened. I was greeted by an old man with a beard down to his mid chest and it was his gas station. I told him my plight and he said the nearest wrecker was in the town where I went to college. He said he’d call and the guy who had stopped said he had to get going. I thanked him for his help and I still remember his parting words... ”Good luck but you probably won’t need it because you have a guardian angel hovering above you.“
It took almost two hours for the wrecker to get there. When it did the operator said he’d have to call the State Police to shut down the road for him to pull my car back up the hill. What a process!. There was about 15 to 18 inches of snow on the ground and when the car was being pulled up the hill it acted like a snowplow. It took a good 15 minutes to get it to the top. Once over the edge and back onto the road I saw the big dent in the middle of the drivers door where I'd hit the mile marker. I was going to try and start it but the the wrecker operator told me that there would be snow packed up tight under the hood. He was right. I opened the hood and saw nothing but snow and the cover for the air cleaner. The wrecker towed me back to the gas station where he, I and the bearded old man pushed, poked and beat as much snow out of the compartment as we could. When I finally tried to start it I was actually surprised that it did.
I had less than $10 cash on me and told the wrecker operator that I’d have to get the money got him once I was back at school. He wasn’t happy but he had all my information so he finally drove off. I figured I better give something to the old guy so put $4 worth of gas in the car and let him have the extra dollar. It was just after mid day when I arrived back on campus, I went to the Ad building first thing. I’d missed three classes and I was paranoid about losing my unauthorized ”cuts“. After showing them the bill for the towing of the car they agreed to make them authorized absences. When I showed up at the farm Mrs T was really upset when she saw the car. I assured her that I was fine but I refused to do what she wanted me to do and that was to call Elle. That was the last thing I needed to do at that time.
Everyone who saw the car wanted to know what happened. The door was stove in right to the frame rail. Because the door was no longer tight a fair about of air got in and I ended up using the towels that I kept under the seat for Elle to stuff in the openings. I knew that my father hadn’t canceled the insurance so I called his agent. I’d met Mr K a few times and when I told him what had happened I asked him to not say anything to my father until I got home in just over a week. He reluctantly agreed and told me that there was a $100 deductible with collision insurance. I had no idea what that meant. When he told me it was a shock. I was saving all I could to make the last payment to Elle’s doctor for the delivery of the baby and taking that much from that ”fund“ would a real problem. I also knew that driving the car that way was not good either.
When I got home and Elle saw the car she was upset but at least she could see I was OK. She also thought that the damaged car would mean that we wouldn’t be going home so she could meet my grandparents. No so. Even though I’d originally told Harry that I'd work the whole week I was off from school and going home would mean giving up some of those paydays. By then I knew we really had to do it. The situation was like a big boil just waiting to burst and left far too many unanswered questions for the future. I wasn’t looking forward to it but it was something that had to be done.
To be continued...
Friday, November 27, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49k)
At the very end of the previous part (48e) I told about my meeting an old family friend (John) in the city. He had told me that he was trying to ”broker“ a meeting between Elle, I and my grandparents and asked for me to think about coming home during the Spring break. He had made a point of calling me every few weeks to see how Elle and I were doing and to find out if I was making use of the ”heads up“ he’d given me about what was going on in the State political arena. He also used to call to push me towards taking him up on the offer to be a go between in a meeting with my grandparents. I’d told Elle about the offer right after I’d returned from the city and she’d responded rather coolly. I didn’t pressure her but with Spring break only two weeks away I knew I had to let John know our plans. John would usually call on Sunday nights knowing we’d be home. So, I sucked it in and tried to pin Elle down. I truly knew how she felt about being treated like she didn’t exist by my grandparents but I still loved them and wanted the standoff to end. We ended up agreeing to go but Elle was clearly unhappy and in bed she let me know by turning her back to me.
I’d leave for school around 6:30am but would get up around 5;30am to see what the weather was like. On that Monday morning I stuck my head out the door and even though it was still dark I could see it was very foggy. Because I travelled narrow back roads to get to school I decided to give myself a little extra time. Once on the road I found it hard to see more than a few feet in front of the car. As I approached town all I could see was a big bright glow as the fog diffused the street lights. Leaving town I ran up behind another car and was glad of it. I figured I could just follow him and let him do all the hard work. There were four distinct parts to the trip. The first was about 15 miles in length. There the road forked and most of the traffic usually went left. I was surprised to see the car I was following bear right but was happy about it. The second segment was about 8 miles and ended in a small town. My route took me to the left at the stop sign and, again, the car ahead went in that direction. The third part was about 10 miles and was the hardest part of the trip, good weather or bad. As I remember it we were doing only about 25 to 30 miles per hour at the most. There was another town that we had to go straight through. There wasn’t much to it with only a two pump gas/service station, a tavern and a building that served as a post office. On a road map it would be generous to call it a map dot. In any case we went on through the town and shortly after passing through the road made a fairly sharp right turn followed by a fairly sharp left turn. The fog was still hanging low but it was starting to get light. I was just following the tail lights of the car ahead when I felt the wheels on the right side of the car drop off the road a bit. When the car came back up onto the road I could feel the back end start to come around. Being around race cars as long as I had I knew enough to steer into the skid but it didn’t matter. The next thing I knew I was looking back at the lights of the town we’d just passed through. I’d done a 180 degree spin and was still moving when I heard and felt a tremendous ”WHOMP!“. I felt the car take a violent turn back to the left and then nothing. I knew instantly that the car was no longer on the road and I had the feeling of falling. I vaguely knew that this part of the road had been carved out of a small mountain and that off to the right was a big open field. As I looked out the windshield all I could see was blackness. It was then that I realized that I’d gone off the road and was now ”flying“ down the hill. Something made me duck my body off to the right and to lay down on the seat with one hand stuffed between the seat and the seat back with the other grabbing onto the underpart of the seat. No sooner had I done that when I heard and felt another ”WHOMP!“. Then there was nothing but silence. I sat up and saw nothing but white on all the windows. The motor was still running, the dash lights were on and the radio was playing but I just sat there. I don’t remember how long it was before I tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. So I slid over to the passenger side and tried that door. I was able to get it open about three inches or so but not far enough to get out. Next was to put the window down. As I looked out I could see those same lights from the town that I’d seen right after going into the spin except I was now looking somewhat upwards at them. I was decidedly below the level of the road. I shut the motor and lights off and climbed out the window to see headlights from the road above shining out towards me. They didn’t do much good because they were shining out into nothingness. Then I heard someone calling. I called back and let him know I was OK and then started making my way up the hill towards him.
It was the car that I’d been following. He’d seen my headlights disappear and knew there was no place to turn off in that area and so turned back to see what had happened to me. As we stood there talking I couldn’t believe where the car ended up. The road was about 25 to 30 feet above the field where the car now was. Neither of us could believe that it had made it from the road into the field without touching any part of the hill on the way down and hadn’t rolled over. It was then that I realized just how lucky I was because the car was a convertible. We looked around and discovered just what the first ”whomp“ was. There were no guard rails but only one single cement mile marker. When my car was completing the 180 degree spin it was about to go over the side but, with unbelievable luck, it hit the mile marker. The guy surmised that I must have hit it right in the middle of the car and with the weight of the motor in the front, the mile marker acted like a fulcrum causing the car to spin back to the left before going over the edge. At that point I didn’t care. Just the thought of what might’ve happened made my knees weak.
To be continued...
At the very end of the previous part (48e) I told about my meeting an old family friend (John) in the city. He had told me that he was trying to ”broker“ a meeting between Elle, I and my grandparents and asked for me to think about coming home during the Spring break. He had made a point of calling me every few weeks to see how Elle and I were doing and to find out if I was making use of the ”heads up“ he’d given me about what was going on in the State political arena. He also used to call to push me towards taking him up on the offer to be a go between in a meeting with my grandparents. I’d told Elle about the offer right after I’d returned from the city and she’d responded rather coolly. I didn’t pressure her but with Spring break only two weeks away I knew I had to let John know our plans. John would usually call on Sunday nights knowing we’d be home. So, I sucked it in and tried to pin Elle down. I truly knew how she felt about being treated like she didn’t exist by my grandparents but I still loved them and wanted the standoff to end. We ended up agreeing to go but Elle was clearly unhappy and in bed she let me know by turning her back to me.
I’d leave for school around 6:30am but would get up around 5;30am to see what the weather was like. On that Monday morning I stuck my head out the door and even though it was still dark I could see it was very foggy. Because I travelled narrow back roads to get to school I decided to give myself a little extra time. Once on the road I found it hard to see more than a few feet in front of the car. As I approached town all I could see was a big bright glow as the fog diffused the street lights. Leaving town I ran up behind another car and was glad of it. I figured I could just follow him and let him do all the hard work. There were four distinct parts to the trip. The first was about 15 miles in length. There the road forked and most of the traffic usually went left. I was surprised to see the car I was following bear right but was happy about it. The second segment was about 8 miles and ended in a small town. My route took me to the left at the stop sign and, again, the car ahead went in that direction. The third part was about 10 miles and was the hardest part of the trip, good weather or bad. As I remember it we were doing only about 25 to 30 miles per hour at the most. There was another town that we had to go straight through. There wasn’t much to it with only a two pump gas/service station, a tavern and a building that served as a post office. On a road map it would be generous to call it a map dot. In any case we went on through the town and shortly after passing through the road made a fairly sharp right turn followed by a fairly sharp left turn. The fog was still hanging low but it was starting to get light. I was just following the tail lights of the car ahead when I felt the wheels on the right side of the car drop off the road a bit. When the car came back up onto the road I could feel the back end start to come around. Being around race cars as long as I had I knew enough to steer into the skid but it didn’t matter. The next thing I knew I was looking back at the lights of the town we’d just passed through. I’d done a 180 degree spin and was still moving when I heard and felt a tremendous ”WHOMP!“. I felt the car take a violent turn back to the left and then nothing. I knew instantly that the car was no longer on the road and I had the feeling of falling. I vaguely knew that this part of the road had been carved out of a small mountain and that off to the right was a big open field. As I looked out the windshield all I could see was blackness. It was then that I realized that I’d gone off the road and was now ”flying“ down the hill. Something made me duck my body off to the right and to lay down on the seat with one hand stuffed between the seat and the seat back with the other grabbing onto the underpart of the seat. No sooner had I done that when I heard and felt another ”WHOMP!“. Then there was nothing but silence. I sat up and saw nothing but white on all the windows. The motor was still running, the dash lights were on and the radio was playing but I just sat there. I don’t remember how long it was before I tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. So I slid over to the passenger side and tried that door. I was able to get it open about three inches or so but not far enough to get out. Next was to put the window down. As I looked out I could see those same lights from the town that I’d seen right after going into the spin except I was now looking somewhat upwards at them. I was decidedly below the level of the road. I shut the motor and lights off and climbed out the window to see headlights from the road above shining out towards me. They didn’t do much good because they were shining out into nothingness. Then I heard someone calling. I called back and let him know I was OK and then started making my way up the hill towards him.
It was the car that I’d been following. He’d seen my headlights disappear and knew there was no place to turn off in that area and so turned back to see what had happened to me. As we stood there talking I couldn’t believe where the car ended up. The road was about 25 to 30 feet above the field where the car now was. Neither of us could believe that it had made it from the road into the field without touching any part of the hill on the way down and hadn’t rolled over. It was then that I realized just how lucky I was because the car was a convertible. We looked around and discovered just what the first ”whomp“ was. There were no guard rails but only one single cement mile marker. When my car was completing the 180 degree spin it was about to go over the side but, with unbelievable luck, it hit the mile marker. The guy surmised that I must have hit it right in the middle of the car and with the weight of the motor in the front, the mile marker acted like a fulcrum causing the car to spin back to the left before going over the edge. At that point I didn’t care. Just the thought of what might’ve happened made my knees weak.
To be continued...
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49j)
She made it out to the barn and we set about to finish up. All I wanted was a hot shower to, hopefully, ease my sore muscles. By the time we were about finished I accidently made the water splash her. She thought I did it on purpose so she pointed her hose directly at me. I remember ducking behind a cow but when the water hit the cow it sprayed all over. I tried to get her back but ended up hitting some of the empty milk cans that we’d just finished washing out and knocking them over. A couple of the cows were frightened and the last thing we needed was to have them trying to get loose so we stopped... at least for the time being.
I tried to get out the door before she did but she ducked out a different way. The outside barn lights were on (it was about 7pm) and I saw her running through the snow ahead of me. I caught up and tackled her. With heavy coats on it was hard to move around but she did try to stuff snow in my face. I could hear her giggling so I knew she wasn’t mad. When we got up she took off for the porch and, wanting to time it right for her to get her coat and coveralls off, I held back. As I approached she yelled for me to wait a minute. I didn’t answer but kept going, ever so slowly. The light in the windbreak wasn’t much and as I reached the steps I could see something sort of white where her stomach should’ve been. I was disappointed that I couldn't see more clearly. But, as soon as I saw her start to go through the door I ran up the steps and this time got a good view through the window. It only lasted a few seconds but I managed to get a good view of her rear end and crotch line of the panties.
She made straight for the stairs and the shower so I had to wait quite a while for my turn. When I finally got into the bathroom the warm water from the shower did feel good. I wasn’t ready for bed so got dressed and headed downstairs to watch some TV. A short time later I saw Joanne coming down the stairs in her bathrobe. I think she said something like “truce!” as she approached me. I was in a big stuffed chair and she settled in on the couch. We watched the TV until the program was over and then she leaned forward and, with a serious look on her face, asked if she could ask me some personal questions. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like that from her and especially, the first question... “Do you think I’m attractive?”
If I could’ve done it over I definitely would’ve had a different answer. Because of the shock of it I shot back a quick “Yes... very!” I had no idea where she was coming from with a question so out of the blue and, in the few seconds after my answer I was afraid I’d put myself into a tenuous situation. She sat there, on the edge of the sofa, looking straight at me. Within seconds I was perspiring.
It took about a minute before I realized that she wasn’t coming on to me. She was very serious and obviously uncomfortable. It took a couple of abortive attempts for her to to get out the next question which was to ask what it was that I thought made her attractive. If you’ve read my posts about Joanne you know I was always concerned about her low self esteem so the question really had me on the “spot”. Without going into all the “dancing” I had to do to get to the heart of the question it originated from being rebuffed by Freddy from the educable class. She had a crush on him and he showed no interest in her and she was hurt by the inattention. I tried my best to explain some of the possible reasons for his inattentiveness but all I did was to get myself in “deeper”.
I was afraid that Mr and Mrs T would arrive right in the middle of our “discussion” and kept my ears attentive to the sound of a door opening. Joanne kept asking what it was that attracted me to Elle and since Elle and I had grown up together it was hard to relate that to her situation. She wanted to know what she could do to get his attention. I told her the same old stuff about not “pushing” and to let the relationship grow slowly. It was obvious that that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Then she hit me with a real “bombshell”. I truly thought that she was completely naive about sexual matters. Certainly, we’d never even come close to the subject when we were together. So, when she asked me what “excited’ me about Elle I was shocked. I feigned ignorance as to what she was asking and she responded, somewhat knowingly, about what happens... and she pointed to her crotch area. I was embarrassed. I really was.
I seriously wanted the conversation to end and at that point was hoping her parents would arrive back. I tried to get off the subject but she wouldn’t let it go. In an effort to derail her questions I offered up that I really just enjoyed being with Elle but that seeing her in her bra and panties ”turned me on“. I’m not sure I used those exact words but it stopped Joanne’s questions... for a few seconds. I don’t remember how she phrased it but what she wanted to know was that if she showed a boy her panties would it make them like her. At that point I was sorry that I’d mentioned it. It proved that she was still very, very naive and I was worried that I’d opened a ”Pandora’s box“. I did my best to explain that Elle and I had dated a long, long time. I lied when I told her that I didn’t get to see Elle that way until we were married. Even with hearing that she still seemed to be intrigued by the idea that letting a boy see her panties would, for lack of a better term, ”excite“ them. In any case, the conversation ended there and she went on up to bed. When I finally went upstairs I couldn’t go to sleep, worrying about what Joanne and I had discussed and how, in her slightly ”slow“ mind, she was processing it. I really wished I could’ve had the whole conversation back.
Tobe continued...
She made it out to the barn and we set about to finish up. All I wanted was a hot shower to, hopefully, ease my sore muscles. By the time we were about finished I accidently made the water splash her. She thought I did it on purpose so she pointed her hose directly at me. I remember ducking behind a cow but when the water hit the cow it sprayed all over. I tried to get her back but ended up hitting some of the empty milk cans that we’d just finished washing out and knocking them over. A couple of the cows were frightened and the last thing we needed was to have them trying to get loose so we stopped... at least for the time being.
I tried to get out the door before she did but she ducked out a different way. The outside barn lights were on (it was about 7pm) and I saw her running through the snow ahead of me. I caught up and tackled her. With heavy coats on it was hard to move around but she did try to stuff snow in my face. I could hear her giggling so I knew she wasn’t mad. When we got up she took off for the porch and, wanting to time it right for her to get her coat and coveralls off, I held back. As I approached she yelled for me to wait a minute. I didn’t answer but kept going, ever so slowly. The light in the windbreak wasn’t much and as I reached the steps I could see something sort of white where her stomach should’ve been. I was disappointed that I couldn't see more clearly. But, as soon as I saw her start to go through the door I ran up the steps and this time got a good view through the window. It only lasted a few seconds but I managed to get a good view of her rear end and crotch line of the panties.
She made straight for the stairs and the shower so I had to wait quite a while for my turn. When I finally got into the bathroom the warm water from the shower did feel good. I wasn’t ready for bed so got dressed and headed downstairs to watch some TV. A short time later I saw Joanne coming down the stairs in her bathrobe. I think she said something like “truce!” as she approached me. I was in a big stuffed chair and she settled in on the couch. We watched the TV until the program was over and then she leaned forward and, with a serious look on her face, asked if she could ask me some personal questions. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like that from her and especially, the first question... “Do you think I’m attractive?”
If I could’ve done it over I definitely would’ve had a different answer. Because of the shock of it I shot back a quick “Yes... very!” I had no idea where she was coming from with a question so out of the blue and, in the few seconds after my answer I was afraid I’d put myself into a tenuous situation. She sat there, on the edge of the sofa, looking straight at me. Within seconds I was perspiring.
It took about a minute before I realized that she wasn’t coming on to me. She was very serious and obviously uncomfortable. It took a couple of abortive attempts for her to to get out the next question which was to ask what it was that I thought made her attractive. If you’ve read my posts about Joanne you know I was always concerned about her low self esteem so the question really had me on the “spot”. Without going into all the “dancing” I had to do to get to the heart of the question it originated from being rebuffed by Freddy from the educable class. She had a crush on him and he showed no interest in her and she was hurt by the inattention. I tried my best to explain some of the possible reasons for his inattentiveness but all I did was to get myself in “deeper”.
I was afraid that Mr and Mrs T would arrive right in the middle of our “discussion” and kept my ears attentive to the sound of a door opening. Joanne kept asking what it was that attracted me to Elle and since Elle and I had grown up together it was hard to relate that to her situation. She wanted to know what she could do to get his attention. I told her the same old stuff about not “pushing” and to let the relationship grow slowly. It was obvious that that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Then she hit me with a real “bombshell”. I truly thought that she was completely naive about sexual matters. Certainly, we’d never even come close to the subject when we were together. So, when she asked me what “excited’ me about Elle I was shocked. I feigned ignorance as to what she was asking and she responded, somewhat knowingly, about what happens... and she pointed to her crotch area. I was embarrassed. I really was.
I seriously wanted the conversation to end and at that point was hoping her parents would arrive back. I tried to get off the subject but she wouldn’t let it go. In an effort to derail her questions I offered up that I really just enjoyed being with Elle but that seeing her in her bra and panties ”turned me on“. I’m not sure I used those exact words but it stopped Joanne’s questions... for a few seconds. I don’t remember how she phrased it but what she wanted to know was that if she showed a boy her panties would it make them like her. At that point I was sorry that I’d mentioned it. It proved that she was still very, very naive and I was worried that I’d opened a ”Pandora’s box“. I did my best to explain that Elle and I had dated a long, long time. I lied when I told her that I didn’t get to see Elle that way until we were married. Even with hearing that she still seemed to be intrigued by the idea that letting a boy see her panties would, for lack of a better term, ”excite“ them. In any case, the conversation ended there and she went on up to bed. When I finally went upstairs I couldn’t go to sleep, worrying about what Joanne and I had discussed and how, in her slightly ”slow“ mind, she was processing it. I really wished I could’ve had the whole conversation back.
Tobe continued...
Sunday, November 15, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49i)
Living with Joanne and the T’s...
It didn’t take long for me to figure out that being a dairy farmer was NOT high on my “wanna-be” list. Even though I’d spent time at the farm and had spent almost a week living there a couple of years back I’d never participated in any of the work that had to be done. I’d agreed to do “chores” to pay for my room and after a few days knew it wasn’t “my thing”. The smell of the milking barn was overpowering. My main chore was the cleaning of the milking equipment. It was fairly easy but it still was the kind of work that I didn’t like. Even though both Mr T and Joanne showed me how to do it without getting wet I somehow managed to be wet when I was finished. I’d learned from Joanne that leaving my good pants in the kitchen and just working in the coveralls that the T’s provided saved my clothes. It meant that I was in only my underpants for the few seconds it took to get my pants off and then out into the wind break on the porch where we hung the coveralls. They were god awful cold when you put them on. I was thankful that Mrs T didn’t embarrass me by looking my way when I did my “strip”. Since I did that chore after supper Joanne was usually upstairs doing her homework for the educable program and I didn’t have to worry about her seeing me.
With all the snow we had the cows ended up staying in the barn on many nights. Unlike horses, they didn’t have their own stalls with hay in them that helped with keeping the smell and mess down. With cows, they stood on a cement pad with their heads through a hoop. There were two rows with the animals angled in and sort of facing each other. There was a trench like thing in the middle between the two lines of cows and to clean up their mess you had to use a water hose with more than normal pressure. Joanne was sometimes recruited to help out with that chore and when she was her mother would have her do her “strip” with me standing in the living room. Out in the barn, with her on one side and me on the other, we would point the hoses towards that trench. It would channel the water and cow slop to a pit just outside the building. It seemed there was no way we could do this job without getting splattered with the slop. Thankfully, it wasn’t something we had to do each and every night but when we did it meant taking a shower as soon as we came inside.
One of the things that I was privy to while staying there was the plight of the dairy farmer when it came to the price of milk. Being an economics major I was able to grasp the situation that independent farmers were in when it came time to negotiate with the milk processors. Mr T had been working on creating a co-operative with other local dairy farmers in order to strengthen their position in price negotiation. Their big meeting came during a mid week and because Mrs T was an integral part of the development of it she asked Joanne, the hired hand and me to pretty much take over the whole milking process for the day. They didn’t expect to be home until well past dark. I was NOT happy about it but there really wasn’t much I could say or do what with all the nice things they had done for me. I had to cut my classes for the day, something I really didn’t want to do. With only three unexcused cuts per course I was counting on them for emergency purposes. But I did what I knew I had to do.
I was truly a fish out of water. Initially, I was more of a hinderance than a help. Both Mr and Mrs T were there for the start of the morning milking and they left while it was in process. I just knew it was going to be a very long day. By the time the second milking was over that afternoon Joanne and I were both exhausted. We both knew we still had to clean the equipment and barn floor but decided to get something to eat. When we finished feeding the cows Joanne suddenly bolted out the door. I didn’t know why and followed close behind her. I remember yelling for her to wait up for me but she was running by that time. When I got to the porch and wind break I saw her going through the door and into the kitchen. When I got to the door it was closed but I could see Joanne putting her jeans on through the window. I got to see just a peek of the white of her panties as she pulled them up to her waist. As I saw her walk away I stripped out of my coveralls and opened the door only to find her standing right next to the door there and laughing at me as I tried to cover myself with my hands. I was a bit upset but as soon as I got my pants on I laughed as well. I told her that she didn’t play fair and we both laughed.
After eating neither of us wanted to go back outside. My arms and back were aching and I was, at last, warm. When we finally got up from the table Joanne wanted me to go first. I told her there was no way... that she’d gotten her “thrill” for the day and it was now my turn. She didn’t think that was a good idea and with a smile on her face went upstairs. I told her that if she wasn’t out in the barn in ten minutes I would come back in and would carry her out get. I remember her laughing and, more or less, daring me to try. (At that time she probably weighed close to what I did) It was the “loosest” I’d ever seen her.
To be continued...
Living with Joanne and the T’s...
It didn’t take long for me to figure out that being a dairy farmer was NOT high on my “wanna-be” list. Even though I’d spent time at the farm and had spent almost a week living there a couple of years back I’d never participated in any of the work that had to be done. I’d agreed to do “chores” to pay for my room and after a few days knew it wasn’t “my thing”. The smell of the milking barn was overpowering. My main chore was the cleaning of the milking equipment. It was fairly easy but it still was the kind of work that I didn’t like. Even though both Mr T and Joanne showed me how to do it without getting wet I somehow managed to be wet when I was finished. I’d learned from Joanne that leaving my good pants in the kitchen and just working in the coveralls that the T’s provided saved my clothes. It meant that I was in only my underpants for the few seconds it took to get my pants off and then out into the wind break on the porch where we hung the coveralls. They were god awful cold when you put them on. I was thankful that Mrs T didn’t embarrass me by looking my way when I did my “strip”. Since I did that chore after supper Joanne was usually upstairs doing her homework for the educable program and I didn’t have to worry about her seeing me.
With all the snow we had the cows ended up staying in the barn on many nights. Unlike horses, they didn’t have their own stalls with hay in them that helped with keeping the smell and mess down. With cows, they stood on a cement pad with their heads through a hoop. There were two rows with the animals angled in and sort of facing each other. There was a trench like thing in the middle between the two lines of cows and to clean up their mess you had to use a water hose with more than normal pressure. Joanne was sometimes recruited to help out with that chore and when she was her mother would have her do her “strip” with me standing in the living room. Out in the barn, with her on one side and me on the other, we would point the hoses towards that trench. It would channel the water and cow slop to a pit just outside the building. It seemed there was no way we could do this job without getting splattered with the slop. Thankfully, it wasn’t something we had to do each and every night but when we did it meant taking a shower as soon as we came inside.
One of the things that I was privy to while staying there was the plight of the dairy farmer when it came to the price of milk. Being an economics major I was able to grasp the situation that independent farmers were in when it came time to negotiate with the milk processors. Mr T had been working on creating a co-operative with other local dairy farmers in order to strengthen their position in price negotiation. Their big meeting came during a mid week and because Mrs T was an integral part of the development of it she asked Joanne, the hired hand and me to pretty much take over the whole milking process for the day. They didn’t expect to be home until well past dark. I was NOT happy about it but there really wasn’t much I could say or do what with all the nice things they had done for me. I had to cut my classes for the day, something I really didn’t want to do. With only three unexcused cuts per course I was counting on them for emergency purposes. But I did what I knew I had to do.
I was truly a fish out of water. Initially, I was more of a hinderance than a help. Both Mr and Mrs T were there for the start of the morning milking and they left while it was in process. I just knew it was going to be a very long day. By the time the second milking was over that afternoon Joanne and I were both exhausted. We both knew we still had to clean the equipment and barn floor but decided to get something to eat. When we finished feeding the cows Joanne suddenly bolted out the door. I didn’t know why and followed close behind her. I remember yelling for her to wait up for me but she was running by that time. When I got to the porch and wind break I saw her going through the door and into the kitchen. When I got to the door it was closed but I could see Joanne putting her jeans on through the window. I got to see just a peek of the white of her panties as she pulled them up to her waist. As I saw her walk away I stripped out of my coveralls and opened the door only to find her standing right next to the door there and laughing at me as I tried to cover myself with my hands. I was a bit upset but as soon as I got my pants on I laughed as well. I told her that she didn’t play fair and we both laughed.
After eating neither of us wanted to go back outside. My arms and back were aching and I was, at last, warm. When we finally got up from the table Joanne wanted me to go first. I told her there was no way... that she’d gotten her “thrill” for the day and it was now my turn. She didn’t think that was a good idea and with a smile on her face went upstairs. I told her that if she wasn’t out in the barn in ten minutes I would come back in and would carry her out get. I remember her laughing and, more or less, daring me to try. (At that time she probably weighed close to what I did) It was the “loosest” I’d ever seen her.
To be continued...
Thursday, November 12, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49h)
It wasn’t until I drove into the downtown area of the town where we lived that I thought about looking at the panties. I parked under a street light so as to get more light than the dash light gave off. When I opened the bag it was the first time that I’d actually touched them. I pulled them all out and spread them on the front seat. If someone had walked by and peered in they would've thought I'd just stolen them off a wash line. As I held one and studied it I felt a bulge growing in my pants. They were beautiful. They were definitely the fanciest panties I’d ever seen. I remember looking at them and envisioning Elle actually wearing them. I knew it would be at least another three to four months even though Elle hadn’t put on that much weight. She was now wearing maternity panties that offered up nothing, especially as compared to what I was holding. The quality of the panties, starting with the waist elastic having a "tab" over where the elastic was sewn together, to the placement of the lace inserts and the finishing touches of the satin ribbon just had me totally "excited". If I wasn't out in public I certainly would've "relieved" my excitement. In any case it got me to thinking about what I could/would do when I got home.
Elle was six months into the pregnancy and, although not expressing much in the way of discomfort, had cut back in the love making department. In spite of being told by her doctor that there was nothing wrong with doing it she just got it into her mind that it wasn't right. In a way her thinking reminded me of how, when she was with me, she would refuse to pull her panties down when she knew she had to go and would end up peeing through them. In her mind that would've been "getting naked" and her mind wouldn't let her do that even with me. Irrational? Yes... but I accepted it and actually liked it. This new idea was also irrational and I certainly didn't like it.
It wasn't that I was cut off because she would let me "play" by "plugging in" in the "spooning" position. With her wet panties and the smooth nylon I could "get off". At the same time she'd let me play with her "button" and that seemed to satisfy her. As I started for home I had visions of being able to do just that. Not utopia but at least it was something.
There was something else on my mind... what to do with the panties. As Elle transitioned from her regular clothes (including panties) to maternity clothes we'd boxed the regular ones up and put them in the front bedroom closet. I had made a point of being the one to box up her panties and it gave me a chance to do an actual count. As I remember it there were over 60 of them with the majority being the Carter's Spanky Pants. Another thing I remember was that I'd bought her the majority of them. The first idea I had was to put the new panties in with the old. My problem was in finding a reason to go into the boxes. It seemed that I was never alone in the trailer. I finally decided to put them in the trunk with some of my "treasures" (the panties I'd collected over time... when I moved from the fraternity I decided they were better off in the car than in my room at the T's). I took one last look and feel of them before putting them in the box I had hidden behind my tools. I then thought of how I'd give them to Elle after the baby was born and started to get excited all over again.
To be continued...
Monday, November 09, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49g)
I was greeted by a haughty middle aged woman who looked like she hadn’t smiled in years. I don’t remember her words but the effect of them were like ”What do want in here?“ Because of the tone of the greeting I was taken aback and don’t remember what I initially said. I do know I did mention Gotham Gold Stripe. Still looking at me as some sort of a trespasser she headed for the rear of the store. Even with lights on it was fairly dark. There was a glass and wood counter with a back lit display behind it. As I approached the counter I saw a number of mannequin legs with stockings displayed on them. The lady reached under the counter and pulled out three small, thin boxes and laid them on the counter. They were a medium brown with a gold stripe running down one side of the top. I wondered if the Gotham panties came individually boxed. I quickly found out they didn’t. What the lady pulled out was a pair of nylon stockings. I didn’t know how to tell her that they weren’t what I was looking for. I remember her draping one over her arm and as she did I saw this lighter line running down the rear seam of the stocking. It took a few seconds to understand that it was the gold stripe the they were named after.
By now, what with the less than friendly welcome from the saleslady and wearing my heavy Winter coat I was perspiring profusely. I was about to leave but I managed to stammer out that I was looking for panties. Again, it was that look from the lady indicating that she didn’t want to be waiting on me. She put the stockings back in the box and then hesitated, looking at me with that same look. I was backing up when she asked me what size I was looking for. I stopped and told her ”size 5”. She walked down the counter a ways and then reached up for what appeared to be a drawer from the wall behind her. By then I was a good four or five steps away from the counter. I watched her put the container on the counter and heard her ask “Gold Stripe?” I nodded affirmatively but didn’t move any closer to the counter. I watched as she reached in and pulled a handful of white panties out and put them on the counter. Then she sort of flipped through them and then stopped and pulled one out. She looked at me with that sort of disgusted look and asked if they were what I was looking for. From where I was standing I could see they were, indeed, fancy panties. I stepped forward, now uncomfortably hot, and without touching them said they were. I was ready to say I’d take them just to be able to get out of there. But she reached into the container and pulled out another handful and almost the same motion pulled the top pair off and laid it out on the counter. There was something familiar about that pair and I finally moved up to the counter. A close look told me that they were close to the same panties I’d seen on the wash basket at the T’s. Now I was excited.
The lady found five pair of the really fancy panties and I said I’d take them all. I still hadn’t touched any of them. I guess I was afraid of what the lady might think. It really wouldn’t have mattered as I was probably never going to be in the store again but all I wanted was to get the panties and to get out of there. The price was 98 cents each. I had the $5 that the horse buyer had just given me stuffed into my pocket. I gave it to the lady and watched as she wrote out my receipt. As she did she looked up at me and made a comment about how the new Governor was going to make everybody pay more for their goods with his new sales tax. For the first time since I’d set foot in the store I didn’t feel intimidated. She’d just touched on the subject that was near and dear to my heart as it was the topic of my term paper that I’d been working on so diligently at school.
We ended up having a lively discussion on the newly proposed sales tax. I tried to explain that it was due to what the outgoing administration had left the new Governor but it didn’t do any good. She was a Democrat and anything I had to say to defend the reason for the tax fell on deaf ears. When I finally left the store I was even more energized about the topic. She’d given me the idea of how to present the paper, something that had been bothering me. With the bag of panties in my hand and the fresh idea in my mind I ended up forgetting all about the roast beef sandwich which had been the reason I’d stopped downtown.
I was back at the truck before I looked at my watch. It was well after 12 noon and I remember Harry telling me that the round trip should only take 4 hours. I’d been gone over three and I still had the whole way back to go. I put the panties on the front seat and started driving, worried about what Harry would say. By the time I got back I was famished. I lied when I told Harry I’d stopped to get something to eat and, of course, that took away any chance of getting a bite before finishing up and heading for home.
Because of worrying about what Harry would say when I got back I wasn’t thinking about the panties I’d just bought and left them on the front seat of the pick up. I didn’t think about them until I saw Harry driving out of the yard in the pick up. Within seconds I was perspiring all over again. I just knew Harry would see the bag and take a look. I worked myself up worrying about what I’d say when he asked me. From the moment that Harry drove out of the yard until he came back, those panties and what I’d say was all I could think of. I was mad at myself for not remembering to take the panties with me when I arrived back.
It was dark when he returned. Normally, I would have been gone by then but my late return had me doing the garbage collection later than usual. I actually took my time hoping that he’d get back and would just park the truck by the house and go inside. I was semi hiding at the barn when I saw him arrive. I quickly ran over and saw the bag on the seat. I opened the door, grabbed the bag and headed for my car. I didn’t even care that I hadn’t gotten my pay for the day. I just wanted to be out of there.
To be continued...
I was greeted by a haughty middle aged woman who looked like she hadn’t smiled in years. I don’t remember her words but the effect of them were like ”What do want in here?“ Because of the tone of the greeting I was taken aback and don’t remember what I initially said. I do know I did mention Gotham Gold Stripe. Still looking at me as some sort of a trespasser she headed for the rear of the store. Even with lights on it was fairly dark. There was a glass and wood counter with a back lit display behind it. As I approached the counter I saw a number of mannequin legs with stockings displayed on them. The lady reached under the counter and pulled out three small, thin boxes and laid them on the counter. They were a medium brown with a gold stripe running down one side of the top. I wondered if the Gotham panties came individually boxed. I quickly found out they didn’t. What the lady pulled out was a pair of nylon stockings. I didn’t know how to tell her that they weren’t what I was looking for. I remember her draping one over her arm and as she did I saw this lighter line running down the rear seam of the stocking. It took a few seconds to understand that it was the gold stripe the they were named after.
By now, what with the less than friendly welcome from the saleslady and wearing my heavy Winter coat I was perspiring profusely. I was about to leave but I managed to stammer out that I was looking for panties. Again, it was that look from the lady indicating that she didn’t want to be waiting on me. She put the stockings back in the box and then hesitated, looking at me with that same look. I was backing up when she asked me what size I was looking for. I stopped and told her ”size 5”. She walked down the counter a ways and then reached up for what appeared to be a drawer from the wall behind her. By then I was a good four or five steps away from the counter. I watched her put the container on the counter and heard her ask “Gold Stripe?” I nodded affirmatively but didn’t move any closer to the counter. I watched as she reached in and pulled a handful of white panties out and put them on the counter. Then she sort of flipped through them and then stopped and pulled one out. She looked at me with that sort of disgusted look and asked if they were what I was looking for. From where I was standing I could see they were, indeed, fancy panties. I stepped forward, now uncomfortably hot, and without touching them said they were. I was ready to say I’d take them just to be able to get out of there. But she reached into the container and pulled out another handful and almost the same motion pulled the top pair off and laid it out on the counter. There was something familiar about that pair and I finally moved up to the counter. A close look told me that they were close to the same panties I’d seen on the wash basket at the T’s. Now I was excited.
The lady found five pair of the really fancy panties and I said I’d take them all. I still hadn’t touched any of them. I guess I was afraid of what the lady might think. It really wouldn’t have mattered as I was probably never going to be in the store again but all I wanted was to get the panties and to get out of there. The price was 98 cents each. I had the $5 that the horse buyer had just given me stuffed into my pocket. I gave it to the lady and watched as she wrote out my receipt. As she did she looked up at me and made a comment about how the new Governor was going to make everybody pay more for their goods with his new sales tax. For the first time since I’d set foot in the store I didn’t feel intimidated. She’d just touched on the subject that was near and dear to my heart as it was the topic of my term paper that I’d been working on so diligently at school.
We ended up having a lively discussion on the newly proposed sales tax. I tried to explain that it was due to what the outgoing administration had left the new Governor but it didn’t do any good. She was a Democrat and anything I had to say to defend the reason for the tax fell on deaf ears. When I finally left the store I was even more energized about the topic. She’d given me the idea of how to present the paper, something that had been bothering me. With the bag of panties in my hand and the fresh idea in my mind I ended up forgetting all about the roast beef sandwich which had been the reason I’d stopped downtown.
I was back at the truck before I looked at my watch. It was well after 12 noon and I remember Harry telling me that the round trip should only take 4 hours. I’d been gone over three and I still had the whole way back to go. I put the panties on the front seat and started driving, worried about what Harry would say. By the time I got back I was famished. I lied when I told Harry I’d stopped to get something to eat and, of course, that took away any chance of getting a bite before finishing up and heading for home.
Because of worrying about what Harry would say when I got back I wasn’t thinking about the panties I’d just bought and left them on the front seat of the pick up. I didn’t think about them until I saw Harry driving out of the yard in the pick up. Within seconds I was perspiring all over again. I just knew Harry would see the bag and take a look. I worked myself up worrying about what I’d say when he asked me. From the moment that Harry drove out of the yard until he came back, those panties and what I’d say was all I could think of. I was mad at myself for not remembering to take the panties with me when I arrived back.
It was dark when he returned. Normally, I would have been gone by then but my late return had me doing the garbage collection later than usual. I actually took my time hoping that he’d get back and would just park the truck by the house and go inside. I was semi hiding at the barn when I saw him arrive. I quickly ran over and saw the bag on the seat. I opened the door, grabbed the bag and headed for my car. I didn’t even care that I hadn’t gotten my pay for the day. I just wanted to be out of there.
To be continued...
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49f)
Working at Harry’s...
The almost constant snow made it very difficult for Harry and Clyde to get in the necessary training work the horses needed. It also made it difficult for me to do my garbage collection chore. The path behind the two rows of trailers in the park was too narrow to run a snow plow down it which meant that I had to walk from the front of each trailer to the back to get to the garbage cans. It made the process a lot longer but I did get to meet most of the residents. There were definitely a few of the females that I wanted to take a close look at their wash lines when the weather improved enough for them to hang clothes outside.
I had mentioned my brief meeting with Vi’s sister, Stephanie and her son, Levi in an earlier part. After getting settled in at the park Stephanie ended up working for Harry and Vi as their bookkeeper and also cashier at Vi’s monthly auction. What we could and couldn’t do with the horses was determined by the amount of snow and the weather in general. On one of the Saturdays where we couldn’t do anything I ended up over at the auction to help out. That’s when I got to learn and see more of Stephanie.
As I had mentioned, Stephanie was a VERY good looking woman. It turns out she had gotten married when she was only 17 and was now 35 years old. She didn’t look it though. On that day she was wearing a cowboy type shirt and a pair of very tight gabardine pants. It only took me about a minute or two to notice a very nice VPL (visable panty line). For the next few minutes I couldn’t take my eyes off her rear end. I was getting the items in order to be auctioned and she was setting up the table where the sale items would be paid for. All the lights hadn’t been turned on at that time but when they were I got a real treat. There was no mistaking that she was wearing two pair of panties. As I said in the first paragraph of this section, I’d not had much luck in viewing wash lines during this part of the Winter. But seeing Stephanie up close and knowing that she was wearing multiple panties made me want the weather to improve, and soon.
Levi, her son, loved the horses. However, Harry had made it clear to him that he would not be allowed to work with them until he graduated. He’d spent a couple of weeks visiting his aunt and uncle during previous Summers and been exposed to them at that time. I thought it was a bit unfair that he wasn’t allowed to spend any time on the weekends and during school holidays but that was the way it was. The only time I got to see him was when he would help his mother by doing some snow shoveling around their trailer. Selfishly, I was glad for the restriction because he certainly could’ve done all the things I was doing at Harry’s.
In looking back I’m somewhat amazed at how Harry never seemed to have any doubts as to my ability to take on a job at which I had no experience. He really put me to the test when upon my arrival one Saturday he told me I was to deliver a horse that he had just sold. Harry had a pick-up truck and a two horse trailer that he primarily used to bring his horses to the race track during the Summer. The only thing I’d ever trailered was my boat which wasn’t all that large. This thing was not only tall but was also heavy and wide. I had some serious doubts but Harry just told me to take my time.
Ironically, I was to deliver the horse to the town where my 2nd semester roommate from my junior year lived so I was somewhat familiar as to just where it was. The route that Harry had laid out for me took me right through my college town. For some reason the whole campus looked different this time. As I approached my destination I remember my old roommate telling me about this luncheonette that had the most fantastic roast beef sandwiches. As I drove through the town I tried scouting the place out and thought I saw it. I asked the man who had bought the horse about the place and he confirmed it. As to assure me that it was as good as I’d been told he gave me a tip of $5 and told me to use it to get my sandwich.
Parking in town in this part of the state was different from at home. Cars were angled in to the curb. With the trailer attached there was no way. I ended up having to drive to the edge of town before finding a place to park. As I walked through the town I was somewhat reminded of the town where my grandparents lived. All the stores were old with their doors between two display windows. The luncheonette was in sight when I looked into the window of a ladies dress store. It was like deja-vu because it was so similar to the store where I’d bought the Carter’s Spanky Pants for Elle many years before. I stopped and looked through the windows. As I did I saw a number of little plastic signs on the floor around the dress mannequin's feet. I immediately recognized two of them... Mojud and Gotham Gold Stripe. I couldn’t believe it. The fancy panties that I’d discovered in the wash basket at Joanne’s were made by Gotham. I didn’t hesitate for very long before I walked in.
To be continued...
Working at Harry’s...
The almost constant snow made it very difficult for Harry and Clyde to get in the necessary training work the horses needed. It also made it difficult for me to do my garbage collection chore. The path behind the two rows of trailers in the park was too narrow to run a snow plow down it which meant that I had to walk from the front of each trailer to the back to get to the garbage cans. It made the process a lot longer but I did get to meet most of the residents. There were definitely a few of the females that I wanted to take a close look at their wash lines when the weather improved enough for them to hang clothes outside.
I had mentioned my brief meeting with Vi’s sister, Stephanie and her son, Levi in an earlier part. After getting settled in at the park Stephanie ended up working for Harry and Vi as their bookkeeper and also cashier at Vi’s monthly auction. What we could and couldn’t do with the horses was determined by the amount of snow and the weather in general. On one of the Saturdays where we couldn’t do anything I ended up over at the auction to help out. That’s when I got to learn and see more of Stephanie.
As I had mentioned, Stephanie was a VERY good looking woman. It turns out she had gotten married when she was only 17 and was now 35 years old. She didn’t look it though. On that day she was wearing a cowboy type shirt and a pair of very tight gabardine pants. It only took me about a minute or two to notice a very nice VPL (visable panty line). For the next few minutes I couldn’t take my eyes off her rear end. I was getting the items in order to be auctioned and she was setting up the table where the sale items would be paid for. All the lights hadn’t been turned on at that time but when they were I got a real treat. There was no mistaking that she was wearing two pair of panties. As I said in the first paragraph of this section, I’d not had much luck in viewing wash lines during this part of the Winter. But seeing Stephanie up close and knowing that she was wearing multiple panties made me want the weather to improve, and soon.
Levi, her son, loved the horses. However, Harry had made it clear to him that he would not be allowed to work with them until he graduated. He’d spent a couple of weeks visiting his aunt and uncle during previous Summers and been exposed to them at that time. I thought it was a bit unfair that he wasn’t allowed to spend any time on the weekends and during school holidays but that was the way it was. The only time I got to see him was when he would help his mother by doing some snow shoveling around their trailer. Selfishly, I was glad for the restriction because he certainly could’ve done all the things I was doing at Harry’s.
In looking back I’m somewhat amazed at how Harry never seemed to have any doubts as to my ability to take on a job at which I had no experience. He really put me to the test when upon my arrival one Saturday he told me I was to deliver a horse that he had just sold. Harry had a pick-up truck and a two horse trailer that he primarily used to bring his horses to the race track during the Summer. The only thing I’d ever trailered was my boat which wasn’t all that large. This thing was not only tall but was also heavy and wide. I had some serious doubts but Harry just told me to take my time.
Ironically, I was to deliver the horse to the town where my 2nd semester roommate from my junior year lived so I was somewhat familiar as to just where it was. The route that Harry had laid out for me took me right through my college town. For some reason the whole campus looked different this time. As I approached my destination I remember my old roommate telling me about this luncheonette that had the most fantastic roast beef sandwiches. As I drove through the town I tried scouting the place out and thought I saw it. I asked the man who had bought the horse about the place and he confirmed it. As to assure me that it was as good as I’d been told he gave me a tip of $5 and told me to use it to get my sandwich.
Parking in town in this part of the state was different from at home. Cars were angled in to the curb. With the trailer attached there was no way. I ended up having to drive to the edge of town before finding a place to park. As I walked through the town I was somewhat reminded of the town where my grandparents lived. All the stores were old with their doors between two display windows. The luncheonette was in sight when I looked into the window of a ladies dress store. It was like deja-vu because it was so similar to the store where I’d bought the Carter’s Spanky Pants for Elle many years before. I stopped and looked through the windows. As I did I saw a number of little plastic signs on the floor around the dress mannequin's feet. I immediately recognized two of them... Mojud and Gotham Gold Stripe. I couldn’t believe it. The fancy panties that I’d discovered in the wash basket at Joanne’s were made by Gotham. I didn’t hesitate for very long before I walked in.
To be continued...
Sunday, November 01, 2009
MARRIED... Winter woes (Part 49e)
School...
I got really excited about investigating the lead that my father’s friend had given me on my quick trip to the city. The professor of my Public Finance course was really helpful in that he got me an appointment to see the head of the Political Science department. Although a staunch Democrat, he pointed me towards some very “interesting” tidbits about the past administration that were helpful for my term paper. I was enjoying this course more than any other I’d taken.
The Contemporary Literature course was going as had been “advertised”. The reading assignments were almost unmanageable. The Professor was known as “The Hook”. In the campus jargon at the time a C grade was known as a “hook”. This Prof graded into a grid. By that I mean he would give only one “A”, and (usually) only one “F”. Then he would give out three “B’s” and three “D’s”. Everything else was a C, or, a “hook“. All his tests were essay type which gave him much discretionary latitude. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall into the ”hook“ area. That was fine with me because I couldn’t afford anything less and still expect to graduate with my class.
The only real problem I had was one of the Economic courses that I’d been told I had to take as a condition of being allowed back into the department as my major. It wasn’t the course but the instructor. He was part of a University exchange program with, of all places, China. He could hardly understand or speak English. The subject was Economics of Underdeveloped Nations and the college thought it would be a good course for him to teach. He may have been knowledgeable on the topic but, because of the language barrier, he couldn’t it convey to the class. It wasn’t just me. One of the other students was in line for the school prize in Economics and he got a grade in the 60’s on the first test. (I think mine was in the 40’s) When the class started comparing grades it was readily evident that we all had a problem. The guy who was in line for the prize ended up being the spokesperson who approached the instructor asking if it was possible for him to ”mark on the curve“. It’s funny now but it wasn’t at the time as he took each word separately and tried to interpret it. He couldn’t. Not even with examples on the blackboard did he have a clue. That was a concern but it was still fairly early in the semester.
My relationship with Dr F led me to be asked to work as a ”mentor“ in his pilot educable program. When getting the OK from the State Education department he also got permission to use non certified (by the State) instructors. But one of the conditions was that all of the kids in the program be tutored in reading, writing and basic arithmetic. Dr F asked me and four others taking courses in the Education department to fill that roll. The students were required to take three hours a week in what were called the ”remedials“ and each of us would tutor one day a week. It was actually fun. Joanne was one of my students and, on a comparative basis, the best of the bunch. She was taking a course in Home Economics and one in Horticulture. Because of having had both her pie business as well as the plant business, she had been forced by her mother to do some basic math. She was still slow but at least had had grasped the basics. Her reading was at the 6th grade level which allowed her to read a newspaper and basic instructions. With her as the best, the worst had to be Freddy who was taking courses in both the automotive field and along with Joanne, in Horticulture. I really liked him. He seemed to be a nice kid but he had absolutely no interest (or ability) in doing the remedial work. It was very frustrating to me as I had been told that he was an outstanding student in both the areas he was working in. I along with a couple of other ”mentors“ spoke to Dr F about him and he said he’d try and follow up on him.
The State Education Department sent a representative to audit the program after we were about two months into it. The lady was almost a cartoon character for an old maid school teacher. Long story short, Freddy was brought to her attention and she met with him, one on one. She told Dr F that she thought he had dyslexia. Dr F knew what it was but I nor any of the the other mentors had ever even heard the word. After conferring with Freddy’s parents he was tested and they found that when he looked at printed words he saw them exactly backwards from what we saw. As Dr F explained it to us it was almost impossible for Freddy to read. But, the problem didn’t interfere with his ability to use logic and to learn by watching others. In both the automotive and Horticulture subjects he was taking he was being shown how to do the work and then given the time to do it himself. It was an interesting and memorable experience.
To be continued...
School...
I got really excited about investigating the lead that my father’s friend had given me on my quick trip to the city. The professor of my Public Finance course was really helpful in that he got me an appointment to see the head of the Political Science department. Although a staunch Democrat, he pointed me towards some very “interesting” tidbits about the past administration that were helpful for my term paper. I was enjoying this course more than any other I’d taken.
The Contemporary Literature course was going as had been “advertised”. The reading assignments were almost unmanageable. The Professor was known as “The Hook”. In the campus jargon at the time a C grade was known as a “hook”. This Prof graded into a grid. By that I mean he would give only one “A”, and (usually) only one “F”. Then he would give out three “B’s” and three “D’s”. Everything else was a C, or, a “hook“. All his tests were essay type which gave him much discretionary latitude. It hadn’t taken long for me to fall into the ”hook“ area. That was fine with me because I couldn’t afford anything less and still expect to graduate with my class.
The only real problem I had was one of the Economic courses that I’d been told I had to take as a condition of being allowed back into the department as my major. It wasn’t the course but the instructor. He was part of a University exchange program with, of all places, China. He could hardly understand or speak English. The subject was Economics of Underdeveloped Nations and the college thought it would be a good course for him to teach. He may have been knowledgeable on the topic but, because of the language barrier, he couldn’t it convey to the class. It wasn’t just me. One of the other students was in line for the school prize in Economics and he got a grade in the 60’s on the first test. (I think mine was in the 40’s) When the class started comparing grades it was readily evident that we all had a problem. The guy who was in line for the prize ended up being the spokesperson who approached the instructor asking if it was possible for him to ”mark on the curve“. It’s funny now but it wasn’t at the time as he took each word separately and tried to interpret it. He couldn’t. Not even with examples on the blackboard did he have a clue. That was a concern but it was still fairly early in the semester.
My relationship with Dr F led me to be asked to work as a ”mentor“ in his pilot educable program. When getting the OK from the State Education department he also got permission to use non certified (by the State) instructors. But one of the conditions was that all of the kids in the program be tutored in reading, writing and basic arithmetic. Dr F asked me and four others taking courses in the Education department to fill that roll. The students were required to take three hours a week in what were called the ”remedials“ and each of us would tutor one day a week. It was actually fun. Joanne was one of my students and, on a comparative basis, the best of the bunch. She was taking a course in Home Economics and one in Horticulture. Because of having had both her pie business as well as the plant business, she had been forced by her mother to do some basic math. She was still slow but at least had had grasped the basics. Her reading was at the 6th grade level which allowed her to read a newspaper and basic instructions. With her as the best, the worst had to be Freddy who was taking courses in both the automotive field and along with Joanne, in Horticulture. I really liked him. He seemed to be a nice kid but he had absolutely no interest (or ability) in doing the remedial work. It was very frustrating to me as I had been told that he was an outstanding student in both the areas he was working in. I along with a couple of other ”mentors“ spoke to Dr F about him and he said he’d try and follow up on him.
The State Education Department sent a representative to audit the program after we were about two months into it. The lady was almost a cartoon character for an old maid school teacher. Long story short, Freddy was brought to her attention and she met with him, one on one. She told Dr F that she thought he had dyslexia. Dr F knew what it was but I nor any of the the other mentors had ever even heard the word. After conferring with Freddy’s parents he was tested and they found that when he looked at printed words he saw them exactly backwards from what we saw. As Dr F explained it to us it was almost impossible for Freddy to read. But, the problem didn’t interfere with his ability to use logic and to learn by watching others. In both the automotive and Horticulture subjects he was taking he was being shown how to do the work and then given the time to do it himself. It was an interesting and memorable experience.
To be continued...
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