Burnie Comes for Dinner

I got to see Dad before I left for school. We had breakfast together. Neither Dad nor Mother said anything about boys’ swimming but Dad winked at me a couple of times when Mother had her back turned, so I think he was trying to tell me everything was okay with her. After I finished eating, Dad and I had lots of hugs and then I headed over to Burnie’s house so we could walk to school together, like always. Burnie was still speaking to me but we did not talk about boys’ swimming. I was pretty sure that was an off-limits topic.

Burnie broke our silent walk a couple of minutes after we started down the sidewalk toward North High.

“Sorry about being so stupid last night, Mable. I still don’t think it is going to happen, even though I think it should. I don’t want you to be disappointed. I mean, it all went so well with Miss Hawn, but she knows you from working on the Oracle the last couple of years. Coach Johnson’s job is to put together a swim team of boys. Those boys are on the team to represent North High. Coach Johnson certainly knows who you are, and he knows you are not a boy.”

I immediately set him straight with, “He also knows I can swim better than any of the boys on his team. He was one of the first coaches I interviewed for the winter sports preview for the Oracle. I told him about the records I had from last year, and that I was going to be setting more records this year. He was very impressed and wished me lots of luck.”

“But did he invite you to join the boys swim team?” Burnie countered.

“Not exactly, but he said he wished he had a boy who could swim that fast! That’s practically the same thing and you know it!”

“But he didn’t invite you to be on the team, right? How do you think the boys on that team are going to feel to be swimming against a girl who they know can beat them?”

Oh boy, I already had an answer of that one. This conversation was going to be good practice for me, preparing me for the arguments Coach Johnson would probably throw at me!

“Burnie,” I said calmly, “One of the best ways to improve in any sport is to play the game against a team that is better than you. You know that from baseball last summer. Remember when our North team played against the East High School team? You played them several different times and they always beat you, but every time you played them, you played a little better. The first game you lost 16-2. The last game was lost 5-4, but in extra innings. You can’t help but build your skills when you are playing against a strong opponent. I’ll be doing those fellas on the swim team a favor by beating them!”

“That sounds a bit extreme. Mable. No one is going to thank a girl for showing them up. A fella’s got to have his pride,” Burnie said with a fake whimper in his voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean? From the way you said it, you aren’t going to feel bad for any of them if I beat them. You think it would be funny, don’t you?” I was definitely surprised by Burnie’s hypothetical betrayal of his own kind.

As we walked up the steps at school, Burnie just smiled at me. We wished each other a good day and I thanked my buddy for a very interesting and informative conversation.

I had a little trouble concentrating during first and second hour classes. I was watching the clock and when it got to 9:00 A.M., I pictured Dad getting on the train with his big trunk. It was like a dividing line. Dad was here; Dad was gone. I had to take care of this swimming business by myself. First, I had to shine at the state meet this Saturday and then I had to show some more of that Mable moxey and have a serious talk with Coach Johnson next week. I put all that in the back of my mind so the rest of the school day would pass quickly.

Swim practice was tough. Tuesdays before meets were always like that. After warm-ups, Coach Mortenson put us in groups based on our times for the last meet. We swam timed races in groups of three. After everyone had raced she took the top four swimmers in each event and had them race again. The top two in each of those races would be competing in individual events at the state meet on Saturday. The bottom two would be on the relay teams with the top two in each of the events. Only the fastest girls swam in the state meet. There was, fortunately, the chance to swim in multiple events, if your times were the fastest. Coach felt no obligation to be fair and let everyone compete. It was an earned privilege. The North High Polar Bears girls’ swim team had a reputation to defend! Based on this selection process at practice, I was going to be swimming in the individual 40 yard and 100-yard backstroke, and I was also the backstroke lap in the 400-yard medley. Perfect. There had to be at least two state records in there; we had a whole team of strong swimmers.

When I got home, Mother was on the telephone with Aunt Helen in Steamboat Rock. They were speaking in German. I was wondering why she had not waited until the night phone rates started. Calling during the day was much more costly. She didn’t talk more than a minute after I came in the door; I was just opening the cupboard where she kept my snacks, when she was already back in the kitchen.

She started with the questions right away. “How did practice go today? Dad wants me to ask every day. What events will you be swimming on Saturday? Are you and Burnie speaking again?”

“Mother, practice was great. I’m swimming the 40 yard and 100-yard backstroke and then in one of the relays, and Burnie and I are speaking again. He’s really on my side on this boys’ swim team plan.”

Mother looked surprised at that last revelation. She tilted her head a bit to the side, looking bewildered. “After the way you stomped in here last night and slammed that front door, I am really surprised to hear that! Surprised, but happy for you it’s worked out so soon between you two. You are like sister and brother. It’s hard to stand by and watch a disagreement like that. Are you having a peanut butter sandwich and some milk?”

“Yes, that would be just what I need, Mother. Are there any cookies?” I added, knowing she would not give me cookies before dinner.

“No, there are no cookies. You still have to help finish that apple pie. Your dad is gone. Who is going to eat all of that big pie? Do you want to see if Burnie has had dinner yet? Eat your sandwich and this piece of pie, and then why don’t you go over and ask if he would like to join us for dinner in about an hour? Tell him six o’clock, please.”

Sandwich and pie? Golly, I think Mother was going a little overboard trying to make up for Dad being gone but I was not going to argue.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Mother. Thank you. Dinner with you and Burnie will be the bee’s knees!”

“Better get a wiggle on with that snack then, dear. You need to catch Burnie before he eats at home.”

Mother liked to have guests for dinner. Dad always joked that he was surprised she didn’t go drag a bum in off the street to feed. Somehow, I never thought that was very funny. Dad used to also joke that he really wouldn’t care if she actually did that some night, but that she’d better make sure whichever bum she brought home wasn’t a ‘harp’. That’s what they called Irish fellas. That kind of confused me because I know Dad had some Irish in him; after all, he had a lot of red in his hair! Sometimes I could not figure out my parents.

I wolfed down my sandwich and pie, then dashed next door. Burnie said his mother was going to be serving leftover kidney pie, so my mother’s beef croquettes were an easy choice. His mother was as good a cook as my mother was. I knew that because I had eaten there many times, but kidney pie was not appealing to either of us kids, no matter who made it. Burnie told his mother that he would come home after dinner and help her with the dishes.

Later, when we sat down to dinner at our table, I realized I was smiling quite broadly. It was hard to believe I could be so happy when Dad had just left and was going to be gone so long. It was awfully quiet at the table for about the first five or ten minutes. Bernie and I were eagerly digging into the croquettes, potatoes with gravy, Jell-O salad, and string beans.

“So, Mother, what did Aunt Helen have to say this afternoon? When is Grandma coming and how is she going to get here? Dad can’t go pick her up this time.”

She had an easy answer. “Your Uncle Albert is bringing Aunt Helen to Des Moines to see a doctor for her stomach troubles. She has an appointment on Monday. They will be arriving Sunday afternoon and bringing Grandma with them. Pretty late, but in time for Sunday supper,” she informed me. “I suppose the next thing you are going to ask about is the sugar cookies? Don’t worry. As her one and only niece, you are sitting pretty. She is bringing us a giant tin of her sugar cookies. Now that the weather is getting cooler, it’s not a problem for her to do more baking in that old wood stove she has in her kitchen.”

“That’s swell, Mother,” I said excitedly. “That means I have until Sunday to eat the rest of that pie!”

“There’s apple pie left?” queried Burnie. “Hot diggety! Your croquettes are delicious and now there is pie for dessert?”

Mother was pleased to hear him raving about her cooking. “It’s a pleasure to have you over to eat, Burnie. You have quite an appetite. Are you sure you’ll have room for pie?”

“Yes, I will, Mrs. Hall. Apple pie is my favorite. I smelled it yesterday when you made it. I sure have been hoping to have a piece, please?”

I knew exactly what the answer to that was going to be, and true to form, Mother commanded him, “Well then, young man, you had better clean your plate. Don’t you waste any of those string beans. Do you need any more potatoes to go with that gravy on your plate?”

It would be a miracle if he didn’t explode before he had time to get to the pie. Mother was stuffing him with food. It was as if, since Dad was gone now, she needed another man around to eat all the food she had prepared and Burnie sure was the right man for that job!