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Show Twisters . . . 107 I've gone through four inner tubes on the new Voyageur Grandpa bought me. I also finished the seventh grade in that period of time. Tonight, June 3, we're having an anniversary party here in our new house. Practically everybody in Grand Island is celebrating, as a matter of fact. KHAS TV is going to re-run the hour-long documentary they made of our disaster, so several neighbors are coming for pot-luck. Afterward we'll watch the show together. "And give thanks," Grandma reminds me. The Darlingtons are coming, of course. In fact, Arthur's already here, having offered to come early. "In case you need me," he said. What he'8 doing is setting up card tables while I tend Ryan. (Keeping Ryan away from Minerva II is no small assignment, you understand. Picture a circus bear, arms outstretched, swaying from side to side. That's Ryan, aged one-and-a-half, chasing the cat.) From the front window here, I can see Stacey coming down the street pushing Tempest June, girl number seven, in a stroller. My heart skips a beat, the way it always does when I see Stacey. The person we're all going to miss tonight is Mrs. Smiley. She didn't make it all the way to the anniversary. She was sitting in the doctor's office one day in March, just waiting for an appointment. She hadn't been feeling too spry, she had told Mom earlier. "I guess her dear old heart simply quit beating," Mom said that night. It's my opinion that her heart was too big to be housed in such an insignificant body. You can't put a 6.6 liter engine in a little old compact and not expect something to blow. I was truly sorry she couldn't have been a spectator at the fine funeral the Presbyterians gave her that Sunday morning. Everyone in |
