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 Dud was heading home in his pickup truck when he
saw the strange goings-on at the Bahdziewicz place. Abraham Lincoln
Bahdziewicz was out in the family’s large garden with a full
complement of kids who were happily hopping around. Some of the kids
came from the neighborhood, but most of them were homegrown
Bahdziewicz kids.
The Bahdziewicz family had a great garden, and went at the whole
thing scientifically and in great fun, because this is one family
that runs short on cash but long on kids.
Dud pulled over and watched for a minute as Abe laughingly directed
the family dancers doing the vegetable boogie through the various
rows of the huge garden.
“What’s going on, Abe?” yelled Dud.
“Squash bug stomping time,” Abe said, turning over another board
lying next to the vegetables. As soon as the board was flipped over,
a plethora of Bahdziewicz kids stomped the bugs flat. “It’s the
kids’ favorite time in the garden.”
The third-grader, John Kennedy Bahdziewicz, said, “Flip another
board, Dad.”
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“Hold it!” Dud yelled. “Not
another move until I get back, okay? I’ll be back here in five
minutes. Five minutes!”
Abraham Lincoln Bahdziewicz looked at his oldest son, Woodrow Wilson
Bahdziewicz and they both shrugged. The rest of the family stopped,
too. Dud peeled out in the pickup and was back in less than two
minutes.
“Okay,” Dud yelled. “Let’s do the squash bug stomp the right way!”
And he strapped on his accordion and fired up a grand polka as
boards were flipped over and the exposed squash bugs were dispatched
in record polka time.
Sometimes just living here can be an awful lot of fun.
[Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Pick up “Home Country: Drama, dreams and laughter from the American
heartland” www.lpdpress.com.
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