Luxurious Entertainment

Entertainment. It was built in. There was always someone to play with. Always a team or two for baseball. Always enough to play a game of kick the can after dark. Always a Batcave that needed superheroes. Always someone to organize surprises. Always someone around to put on plays and plenty still left to be the audience. Always a building crew nearby for the forts that needed to be constructed. Always a swimming pool to be dug. Always treasures to search for. Always clues to encourage explorations in the woods. Always picnics to be enjoyed. And, there were always neighbors nearby who did not want to miss out on any excitement. There never seemed to be a dull moment around our house. I am not sure that we even recognized that there was constant level of stimulation surrounding our home. (I do know that after we moved to Jacksonville, every single house on our block of Fort Worth Street, except for the brave Kerzee and Groom families, was put on the market in the next few years.) No matter what kind of entertainment was on tap at the moment, because of the sheer number of people involved, a certain level of excitement always accompanied every activity. I guess excitement can be defined in a number of ways. Perhaps age has something to do with the definition. Maybe those who were not members of a large family had a different image in their head of what excitement really was. I am almost positive that when you achieved parenthood, your idea of excitement definitely changed. I am pretty sure that different levels of excitement exist no matter who you are or where you come from or what your position in life might be at the time. No matter who was observing my parents’ life there could be no doubt that sheer madness was their constant companion. How did my mom and dad maintain such a consistent level of tranquility with all the exciting entertainment? As I hear story after story at Sunday lunch, and look back on my own kid’s exciting adventures, I am sure that my parent’s serenity was a result of only one thing. Practice. Day in and day out the constant level of worry, scurry, and mayhem could either wear them out or they could just adjust to the idea that this abnormal amount of activity was their normal. Did they practice counting to 50? Did they practice hiding their worries? Did they practice suppressing moans? Or did they learn to just give in and enjoy the ride?

Surely with all of this constant entertainment, there was a need for my parents to have some down time. I know that when my kids were young, a trip to the grocery store all by myself was a luxury. James would always recognize when I sorely needed a break, and off I would go to the exciting world of grocery shopping. All alone and unattended. Pure indulgence. I realize now that bringing home a 4th child brought about the idea that grocery shopping could be luxurious. I certainly had never thought of that activity in those terms before. What, then, could constitute such an indulgence if you were to come home with your 9th, 10th, or even 11th child? Perhaps just a moment of peace and quiet in the midst of all of the excitement of everyday life could be simply sumptuous. When I hear about the day that occurred during the 2nd week after Pat was brought home from the hospital, I marvel at the complacency with which my mom tells the story. Pat was the 9th child and mom seemed to be able to exist on little or no sleep. My oldest brother had decided he would try to help my mom and take some of the kids away from the house for awhile. Pat was just 2 weeks old, mom needed rest, and Cookie was more than willing to help entertain the masses. With promises of excitement and entertainment for the youngsters, and armed with the help of the older kids, he piled as many of us as he could into the little English Ford and we all took out for a spin. This left the house relatively quiet for mom. Along with the newborn, there were only 2 toddlers left at home. I imagine that Mom put this moment down as one of luxury. Only 3 children at home for at least an hour meant plenty of time to recharge and recoup. As Cookie entertained his brothers and sisters I guess that the level of excitement must have started to wane a little. After all, there were so many people crammed into one car and we had been on so many “drives” for so many different reasons, that we had seen all there was to see in Navasota. Leave it to Cookie, though, to make sure that there would not be a dull moment for us. What would be wrong with seeing if the little English Ford (loaded with 6 little Swansons) could fit on the railroad tracks? It certainly looked as though the wheels were about the same width as the railroad tracks that wound their way through downtown Navasota. With much encouragement from Hunter and Jimmie; and with the inspiring looks of awe that he constantly received from the younger kids, Cookie guided the Ford onto the tracks. There was success for a minute, but of course, there was no way that the car could stay on the tracks for long. And, of course, there was no way the car was coming off of the tracks, either. Now, this was excitement! Try as they might, the boys could not get the car free from the tracks. Being the resourceful son that he was, Cookie sent Bill running home to tell mom that somehow the car got stuck on the train tracks downtown. In the meantime, a crowd was gathering to watch the latest Swanson situation. A train was scheduled to arrive on the tracks in the next few minutes. When Bill arrived home out of breath to relay the situation to mom, she was galvanized into action. As she tells the story, she says she “grabbed the infant off of the top bunk and swept the two toddlers under her arms.” She went to my grandmother’s house in the block behind our house to find a vehicle that could take her to the rescue. (When I ask her why there was an infant on the top bunk she just shrugs and says, “That’s just where I put him!”) She piles the group of kids into the only car available. Never mind that the car did not have brakes; there were children to be rescued, and surely she could manage. As Bill guides her through downtown toward the location of the trouble, she spots my dad’s car parked at the coffee shop. Without use of any brakes, she whips the car around and coasts to a halt in front of the cafe. After explaining the situation, my dad, and the rest of the coffee shop regulars, head for the tracks in the next block. One man runs down the railroad line in hopes of flagging down the train that is now well on its way to town. Several men, along with most of my brothers, helped to lift the car off of the track as the train grinded to a halt before there was any harm or damage inflicted to anyone or anything. My dad thanks his friends, the train starts back on its journey, the kids all pile back into the little English Ford, the townspeople head back home and we are all idly wondering what we would have for dinner that night. My mom had already returned home and missed the car being lifted off of the tracks. At the telling of this story, I am shocked that she did not stay to see if the train actually stopped before ramming the car. How did she make herself leave before knowing that all of her kids were safe? She calmly explains that she knew that everyone was out of the car and that Papa was in charge of the situation. She needed to make sure that she could get home safely with no brakes and since everyone in town was near the tracks watching all of the excitement, the most practical time to leave was right then while there was no one on the road. She had to keep making several extra turns around several extra blocks to make sure that the car would slow down, but she, too, arrived home safe and sound. I know that the coffee shop and Pookie’s beauty shop and Pederson’s Drug Store had plenty to talk about that day. Accounts of the near miss provided lots of entertainment for everyone around town. For my mom and dad, it was just another typical day at the office. The more that I look back, the more I realize that it must have taken a massive amount of creativity to be able to recognize when one of those moments of luxurious peace and quiet actually occurred. My parents must have intuitively known when to grab hold of those sweet, uncomplicated, sparse moments of calm, and bask in the peacefulness that each one must have brought. Is that why I have such a clear picture of my 5 foot tall mom standing on tip toe to kiss my 6 foot 2 tall dad every single morning before he left for work and every single evening when he returned home from work? Were they just grabbing a moment of peace?
The train story is just one of the Sunday lunch stories that show me that, indeed, everything is relative. Things like excitement, entertainment, and luxury. Sure, the kids were stuck on the railroad tracks, but all of us felt the thrill of being alive. Maybe the rescue vehicle didn’t have any brakes, but how capable my mom must have felt to have beaten the odds. Perhaps the respite from having everyone underfoot did not last quite as long as anticipated, but just look how the younger kids kept putting Cookie higher and higher on a pedestal for his powers of entertainment. Maybe there was always a bit a drama surrounding our family, but just consider how a whole village was mesmerized. I am sure that there were nerves that were stretched thin during the whole escapade, but it was followed up with smiles and what ifs and a gratefulness that is still crystal clear as the story is told today. As I look back on my childhood and life, I see that perhaps we did not recognize until later the pure luxury of having parents that handled constant excitement with such a strong sense of confidence and calm. After becoming a parent myself, I will be forever grateful that their actions helped me to recognize and acknowledge the most ultimate of luxuries. The luxury of having a husband with kind, gentle, strong and capable arms that could hold me tight through all forms of excitement. The luxury of having a husband who knew how to enjoy all that life could throw at him. The luxury of having a husband who could recognize and share those rare moments of peace that are sometimes hidden when raising children. Truly there are forms of entertainment that make the heart grow stronger. How luxurious to be able to sit back and really enjoy the ride.