The Red Flannel Rag

water, and put them in our beds to keep us from freezing. There was absolutely no heat

in the upstairs.

I felt a strong sense of responsibility for the family. I lay awake at night for as

long as I could so I would smell smoke and wake everybody if the house caught on fire.

Mom and Dad were always tired, so I knew they needed their sleep. I awakened many

mornings with frost in my nostrils.

The following summer, while I was out of school, Mom and I worked on the

house. We wallpapered the upstairs bedrooms and her bedroom downstairs. We

patched holes and painted. By the time school started, we had the house looking pretty

fine. My mom lived in the “old Shifflett place” until her death in 2001.

Over the years, as we could afford it, we fixed the house so it was more

comfortable. In 1969 Mom told Dad she was tired of walking through the ice and snow

to go to the toilet. She asked him if she could borrow the money to fix the cellar for her

canned food, add a pantry off the kitchen, and put in a bathroom with a tub and shower.

She already had the estimates. It was going to cost three thousand dollars.

Dad told her absolutely not. He didn’t want to go in debt for a bathroom. Th ey

argued for days. He said, “I don’t want a toilet in the house. It ain’t healthy to shit

where you eat and sleep.” She called him names such as Peter Tumbledown. That name

was always her favorite for him. She yelled, “You’d set here and let the dam n house fall

in on all of us. I’m borrowin’ the money anyway. I’ll pay it back myself with my milk

money.” She went to the bank and borrowed three thousand dollars and brought the

papers home for him to sign. He signed them.

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