Rhubarb

It's a good day.

I bought rhubarb in the marketplace this morning. I didn't need rhubarb, it was an impulse buy. Like twinkies, ho-hos, or Taco Bell. But who impulse buys rhubarb. I'm not even sure I remember what rhubarb pie tastes like. I think I've only had it once.

Betty made rhubarb pie. When we were young we would go to Betty's house and have tea and cookies while my mom talked with Betty and Althea. We were always treated like grown-ups - just miniature. I drank coffee like Bill. Bill & Betty were always simply ancient. While I know now that they were about the same age as my grandparents - Bill & Betty always seemed so much older.

Bill had served in the war, the second great one. He had a fun story of how he got drafted. I don't remember it well, but basically - he had an old truck that he was driving even though he was too young to drive on the roads. A cop pulled him over for not having a taillight and found that the driver was unlicensed. He told Bill that he could pay a fine of $400, go to prison for a week, or (if he was really as old as he said!)join the service. Bill had never seen $400 and he had seen the outside of a prison and didn't want to see the inside ... so he chose to join the service.

After tea and cookies we would all go for a long walk. I only loved the walks when we would stroll through the woods behind their house. With them, in those woods, I saw a tranquilized bear, deer, and large fields of blueberry bushes. In season we would pick for hours. My mother always seemed to pick thousands more than my sister and I could. Even Betty's arthritic hands managed to pick faster than us.

So maybe tomorrow I'll work on a rhubarb pie. We'll see.