It was the best of times, it was the worst of times -- life on Long Pasture Road in Little Compton, RI. For us kids, it was an adventure to live in a crazy old house with the stable and guesthouse and outhouse, surrounded by fields and ocean, within walking distance to Wilbur's Store and Wilbur's Woods. It seemed that in the summer the house was always filled with guests -- cousins and aunts and uncles and friends, dogs and cats and rabbits and a goat. For Mom, I know it was a difficult time, and she survived problems with the restaurant and marriage and health and three wild daughters. Thank god for Tommy -- at least HE behaved himself! Mom worked hard to keep the house warm, food on the table, and her family intact.If only she'd had Internet access back then, she might have found these useful links to help her sleep better at night:
- The cupboard's a little bare! What shall we have for dinner?
- Help! I just found my son asleep on the back steps with a handful of beans!
- Gee! Didn't I ask you girls to turn off the sprinkler in the garden?
- Company's coming and we have no water! I wonder if we can actually use that old outhouse?
- I just saw Lucy holding hands with Donny Medeiros!
- What the hell am I going to do with that dead goat?
Submitted by Lucy.
1 comment:
Oh, the dead goat...the goat that we tried to make pull us in a sled one time in the back field in Little Compton. The goat that loved to run and loved to climb. When it was in the stables, it climbed the walls.
One day, Tom and I were taking a walk. As we came up the driveway, the chain that usually held the goat tethered to a post was tightly stretched across from the post to the wellhouse. The damned goat had climbed up on the wooden structure and fallen through the screen on the top--hanging itself!
For a minute, Tommy & I walked towards it until I realized what had happened and knew I didn't want my brother to know. I think he knew anyway, but we all cried while Mom dealt with the goat's remains.
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