Bridging the Gap

At age forty-six I decided to take a creative writing class and found myself needing to write a short story. As the things in my life were changing, somehow I wanted to honor those changes by bringing some younger and older life moments together. To make matters interesting, in today’s literary markets the type and time of my childhood writing is referred to as “historical fiction.” This little short story never happened in my life, and now I find myself very close to the grandma’s age. It made me smile as I read some of the questions asked of me at the time, my answers then, and those now. They really haven’t changed much at all. Still, I must admit, the story seems to have been written by a younger person than I am today.  At whatever age, hope you enjoy both sides of the story and connect the dots of time.

BRIDGING THE GAP

1950

Grandpa was getting up from the dinner table when Grandma reminded him, “Don’t forget to check on Old Sue. She may have found her calf by now.”

Mandy tried not to giggle, but it’s hard not to giggle when you’re eight years old.

“Grandma,” she said, “I saw a calf born when I was four years old.  I know cows don’t go around looking for their calves.”

Grandma choked back a chuckle from behind the ear of corn she was trying to chew with her false teeth. “Maybe they’re like people,” she said. “Maybe they go looking around for the very things that are inside them all the time.”

Now Mandy was really embarrassed. She was beginning to wish she had not invited Gloria to spend the weekend. Last week she stayed with Gloria in the city. They went swimming, to a ball game, and even to the movies.  But there was nothing to do in the country except shuck corn and shell beans, and the grown-ups couldn’t even talk right.

“Don’t mind her,” Mandy said to Gloria. “Grandma would try to make religion out of a mud puddle.”

Both eight-year-olds giggled and tried to dart out the door before Grandma could chain them to the dishpan. Whoever said Grandma was slow certainly did not know Amanda Krebs.

“You gals get back here before I cloud up and rain all over you,” she called to them.

“Grandma!  I have company! We didn’t have to wash dishes at her house.” 

“You probably didn’t feed chickens or gather eggs either, but the hens don’t stop laying just because your cousin is here.” Grandma was already boiling water for the dishpan.

Gloria looked at Mandy. Her hands were as smooth as her face. Both her eyes looked questioningly at the singing kettle.

“Don’t worry, Mama and Papa will be home from the factory after a while and we won’t have to do this at my house. We even have hot and cold running water at home just like you do in town”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Gloria lied because she was too polite to tell the truth.

Grandma looked at the two girls. It had been sixty years since she was eight years old. You didn’t talk about where calves come from back then, even if everybody did know. And girls certainly never went around in short pants after the age of four. But Grandma could be modern. She could shake her stiff leg better than anybody at the harvest barn dance every fall.  But she couldn’t be patient with little girls who had lily-white hands and wore necklaces in the middle of the day. She began pulling dishes from everywhere and dropping them into the sudsy hot lather.

“God gave us hands and feet because he knew we were going to need them,” her lecture began. “If he just wanted something to look pretty, well, he’s got plenty of flowers for that. You girls got it easy.”

Gloria leaned over to whisper to Mandy. “Are we going to hear about how she walked to school now?”

“No you ain’t.” Grandma’s ears were as sharp as her tongue. “Whatever made you think I went to school? I learned arithmetic from the Sears Roebuck catalog and the only book I ever read from was the bible.”

“That has to be true,” Mandy informed Gloria. “Grandma talks about the Bible so much that until last year I thought she must have written at least half of it herself.” The girls giggled.

Just then the back door swung open and Grandpa rushed in, “Better get some things together.  Old Sue isn’t able to have that calf.” He reached in the corner and picked up the gun, stuck a few shells in the pocket of his overalls and waited for Grandma to come with some rags, scissors, and on her way out the door she grabbed her sowing basket.

“Can we come?”  Mandy asked.

“No!”  Grandpa was firm.

The girls watched the couple hurrying across the yard. Just a few minutes ago the wrinkles in Grandma’s face had seemed to dance as she talked and worked around the kitchen. From behind, she looked old. She had a white cloth tied around her head that looked like it was holding her head together. She drug her stiff leg along behind her as though it weighed too much to lift beside her other one.

Grandpa carried the gun beside him as though the gun itself made a statement to life. His steps were as firm as his voice had been when he had forbidden the girls to come.

Mandy and Gloria looked at each other and read each other’s thoughts. They threw down their dish towels and started toward the door. “We’ll cut through the corn field and go around back of the barn,” Mandy said.

“Why did he take the gun?" Gloria asked.

“Shshsh, Grandma can hear me thinking.”

The girls didn’t have to duck. The corn stood almost six feet tall now and the leaves waved gently to them as they passed across the rough dirt. At the end of the corn field was a wire fence. Mandy lifted up the bottom two rows of wire so Gloria could crawl through.

“Are there cows in here?” Gloria whispered.

“Yes, and one bull, but don’t worry, they are more scared of you than you are of them.”

“I don’t think so. How far is it?”

“Just across the branch and threw those trees on the other side.”  Amanda was used to the thorns and the pasture.  It never occurred to her that Gloria might be frightened. A wooden plank lay across the little branch. The water was no deeper than three feet, with little minnows swimming under the plank as though they were playing “Snake in the gully”. Mandy took the six quick steps to the other side before she realized Gloria was not with her. She looked back at Gloria’s uncertain expression, and made a motion with her hand for her to follow her. The sun came through the trees and rested on Gloria’s auburn hair, making it appear for a second as though her head was on fire. The beauty of it caused Mandy to feel a brief jealous second, before she started back across the plank to take Gloria’s hand. The girls turned to the right and followed the trees to the wooden gate that let them peer into the barnyard. They were almost too late.

All they could see was red, even brighter than Gloria’s hair had been. Now the sun lay over the place where Grandma and Grandpa knelt. Grandma was rubbing Old Sue’s head and almost sitting on her front legs. Grandpa’s hands got lost somewhere in the red blob. It was impossible to tell where Old sue turned into the calf Grandpa was pulling from her body. It looked as though the cow literally broke into pieces while the girls watched. Finally, Grandpa and Sue gave a long cry together and Grandpa fell backwards catching the little red blob in his lap.

But Old Sue didn’t stop wailing.  Groans too horrible for eight-year-old ears to hear filled the barnyard with pain. Grandpa started standing up as the little red calf sputtered into life. Grandma carefully wiped its mouth, eyes and ears with the wet cloth she had brought, and smiled as the newborn immediately tried to suck on it. Sue was just too old to give birth. It appeared that Old Sue was akin to Grandma, seeming not to know when it was time to let go and let the young ones run the world.

Grandpa put a shell into the gun. Mandy covered her ears. Gloria screamed at the sound of the gun, but Sue became quiet and still on the ground. Grandma turned toward the sound of the scream. The girls came through the gate to kneel beside the new little creature that was struggling to stand up from Grandma’s lap.

Grandma looked into Gloria’s face and her heart melted tender to the child.

Until now, Old Sue had been just a cow to Mandy. Now she had real identity. Her life stood for something.

“What are we going to name it?” Mandy asked as though that were the appropriate question.

The little calf made a noise that sounded more like a sheep than a cow. Gloria’s eyes never left Grandma’s face. Each little dancing wrinkle seemed to have something special to say now.

“What will happen to the calf now?”

“Well, we have another calf about a week old,” Grandma explained. “We’ll take this one to the mother and see if she will let it nurse.”

“Will she?” Gloria questioned.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Well, sometimes a mother will take on another’s baby and sometimes not. Cows and animals can be like people sometimes. What it all depends on is love, nature, and God.”

Gloria finally looked into the baby calf’s face. The eyes were closed and Gloria wondered if they were any color at all.

“Let’s name it,” Mandy insisted.

“Let’s let Gloria name it,” Grandma suggested.

“Well, the first thing this calf heard was its mama getting shot. Why don’t we call it Bambi?” Gloria said.

“Then Bambi it is,” Grandma agreed.

“What will happen to Bambi,” Gloria still wondered aloud.

Grandpa had been busy cleaning up around the area and picking up things for Grandma to take back to the kitchen.

“And why the sowing basket?” Gloria asked.

Mandy giggled. “To sew up your mouth so you won’t ask so many questions,” she said as she began to understand why  Grandma had said that to her a thousand times when she was younger. Simultaneously, Gloria realized a real resemblance in Grandma Krebs’ namesake. She looked around the little area at the baby calf, her cousin, and the two old people. She reached out to touch Bambi’s little red head as the sun touched them with brilliance.

“Child,” Grandpa said because he was too old to remember a name like Gloria. “You come back next summer and Bambi will serve you up milk, cheese, and butter.” 

Questions asked by class and answered by me.

Q:  What is the significance of the color red?

A:  The brightness of life from beginning to end; light on Gloria’s hair, a young girl fixing to face life that may include some problems (jealousies), the redness of the cow falling apart at life’s end, the redness of the calf’s head as infancy.

Q:  What is the meaning of the title?

A:  The bridge of life, emphasized by the wooden bridge the girls had to walk across to get to the answers.

Q:  Shouldn’t the girls be younger than eight?

A:  I don’t know but I don’t think so in rural 1950.

Q:  You didn’t follow through on the God theme; why not?

A:  It was a part of what Grandma believed, and was a subjective presence in the story in the birthing of the little calf.